Caught in the Crossfire Read online

  I slid the picture back into the soft sheets of paper and put my Bible under my pillow for safekeeping.

  “Get settled in, guys. We passed the shower room on our way here. You’ll find lockers for your hygiene products, so you might want to stop there and stow your stuff. I’m going to go help Paul with a few things. Meet us down at the beach in twenty minutes, okay? We’ve got something fun planned.” Aaron left, the screen door bouncing shut behind him. I untied my sleeping bag and spread it over my bunk.

  “Hey, check it out.” Jake unzipped his suitcase and took out a huge pile of magazines. “I remembered to pack everything. Well, everything important.” Jake opened a magazine and held it up for everyone to see. The centerfold fluttered open. A blond woman with enormous breasts and pink nipples lay across a red sports car. “Play it smart and keep your mouth shut about it to Aaron, and there’ll be more where this came from,” Jake promised and threatened at the same time. Another one of his signature moves.

  I looked. Sure, I looked and immediately wanted to hand the naked woman a shirt to put on. I looked again, hoping to see what the other guys saw, but my stomach cramped. I looked away.

  “What’s wrong? First time seeing some real tits?” Jake sneered at me.

  “Your dad is going to kill you. You do know that, right?”

  “Naw. He’d have to admit he has a porn stash before he could give me grief about it, and that’s never gonna happen. Maybe you’d like some S and M then.” Jake tossed a Hustler on my bunk. I glanced at the image on the front cover and threw it back to Jake. I felt like we were back in third grade playing hot potato, except now it was with the tied-up woman with the gag between her teeth.

  “Dude, that’s so gross.” I reached into my duffel bag again and grabbed my insect repellant. I knew from experience that Aaron wasn’t kidding about the mosquitoes. I slathered the pungent white cream over my dusty ankles and worked my way up over my thin calves and knees.

  “What’s wrong with you? You don’t like girls? Maybe you’d like a Playgirl instead?” I froze at Jake’s words. Heads pulled out of their magazines and stared at me. My cheeks burned.

  “Why, did you bring your porn stash too?” I recovered. “I wouldn’t want to borrow your favorite magazine or anything.” Easy laughter broke out in the cabin. Even Jake chuckled. My hands moved again, covering every exposed part of my tanned legs with the cream.

  “Okay, choirboy. But if Aaron hears about this from anyone, we’ll know who squealed.”

  “I’d risk getting into trouble if I could make some purple with this babe.” Another guy in my cabin laughed, holding up his magazine and leering.

  “Hey, what does that mean, make some purple?” I blurted out the words and quickly regretted it. “That’s never been a rule here before.”

  Jake snorted. He looked at me like the word Loser blinked on my forehead. “Jeez, Cooper, where have you been living? In a convent?” He snorted again. “Everybody knows that blue equals boys. Pink equals girls. Put one inside the other and what do you get? Purple. Making purple means doing the nasty. You know, the old bump and grind.” Jake raised his arms into the air and made two fists with his hands. He thrust his hips forward. I seemed to be the only one who thought that Jake’s visual aids were unnecessary. “It’s fucking stupid. All this I’ll be watching stuff is a bunch of bullshit. I bet Aaron’s going to use that as an excuse to go out in the woods and get his freak on, if you know what I mean. Which you probably don’t.”

  “Sometimes, Jake, you can be a real ass.” I tucked the insect repellant back in my bag, grabbed my sunglasses, and walked out of the cabin. I headed down the path that led back to the main campground and thought of how my father would handle Jake. Sometimes you charge. Sometimes you retreat. A smart soldier knows when to do which, Jon. That’s how wars are won.

  I vowed to keep my distance from Jake.

  I couldn’t do anything about the fact that he would be snoring and farting above me for the next thirty nights, but the days were mine. Even then, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Camp life was no different from real life, except that everything happened at the lake. All the same rules applied. Some people, like me, slid into the lake. We floated on it and made as few waves as possible. Others lived for the splash—the bigger, the better. Jake, master of the cannonball, always managed to hit a lot of people with just a bit of effort.

  Whether I charged or retreated, at some point I knew I was bound to get soaked. “Some wars can’t be won, Dad,” I said as I walked past the Mellow Moose and caught a glimpse of someone with bright red hair, standing inside the cabin.

  Chapter Three

  The heat of the late-afternoon sun beat mercilessly on the beach of Spirit Lake where Aaron had asked us to gather. Paul instructed us to find someone we didn’t know to be our partner. I looked around, searching for him.

  “Hi, do you want to be my partner?” A pretty girl with long brown hair startled me. I hadn’t seen her approaching.

  “Um, thanks, but I already have a partner.”

  “You do?” She looked around, confused.

  “Yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” I squirmed.

  “Oh, okay. I’d better find someone else then.” She looked disappointed.

  “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” She turned and walked away. Jake descended on her like a hawk spotting a field mouse. I almost called her back, but a glimpse of red on the far side of the beach caught my attention. I wove through the sea of bodies until I stood next to him.

  “Hey, um, wanna be my partner?” I asked. So lame.

  He frowned. “Technically, we have met, but I guess I don’t really know you. Why do you want to be my partner?”

  “Um, I don’t know.” My mouth was so dry I could have drunk Spirit Lake, fish and all. “I guess I just thought, you know, you’re new here.”

  “Obviously. So you thought you’d offer to be my partner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m Jonathan Cooper.” I stuck my hand out like a dork. He smirked, and I jammed it into my pocket.

  “Ian McGuire. Hey, about earlier—”

  “Listen up, everyone!” Paul called out. “Once you’ve found your partner, sit down on the ground. When everyone is seated, we’ll have some fun.”

  We sat on the sandy beach and waited, uncertain what fun he had planned for us.

  “Earlier?” I shifted positions. My knee brushed up against his leg.

  “Yeah, with the cretin.”

  “Oh, that. No sweat.” Except that there was. Lots of it, as a matter of fact.

  “I wasn’t thanking you. Do you have an ego or what? I wanted to tell you that I can take care of myself. Next time, remember that.” I didn’t know how to field that kind of honesty, so I just sat there, slack-jawed, and stared at him.

  “You have five minutes each to pantomime three things about yourself,” Paul said. “You may get up and move around if you need to, but there is no talking. Afterward you’ll introduce one another, and we’ll see if your partner correctly figured out the three things about you. This should be fun! Remember, no talking. No whispering. No mouthing words. No making sound at all. No props. Ready? Begin!” Paul blew the whistle.

  The beach suddenly became an oven. I looked across at Ian. He shook his head and pointed at me. I pointed back, but he crossed his arms in front of his body. I tried to remember the stage directions from a one-act play I’d been in the previous year. I stood up, swung my arms in the air dramatically, pulled my hands to my heart, fell to one knee, and hung my head. It had been a tragedy, but from the look on Ian’s face, he was watching high comedy. I stood again and walked forward, bowing deeply while he clapped without making a sound.

  Bravo. He mouthed the word.

  My stomach fluttered, and subconsciously my hand reached for the cross necklace, a gift from my mother. “No props, Jonathan!” Nathan, the junior counselor, shouted at me. I tucked the cross back under my T-shirt.
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  I kicked a pretend soccer ball around. Dodged and ducked. Even headed it off my forehead. Aiming, I kicked it square into the pretend net and then did a lame little dance in celebration. Ian yawned.

  Finally I cupped my left hand in front of my face and adjusted an imaginary camera with my right hand. Peering through the nonexistent lens, I pretended to focus on Ian who mouthed the word cheese through a stupid fake grin. I pushed my right index finger down and pretended to take a picture. Just then the willow tree behind him glowed in the golden sunlight. I squinted through the imaginary lens and regretted leaving my real camera back at the cabin. I lay down underneath the willow tree and took another pretend picture of it, not giving a damn how weird I might look. Nothing mattered but seeing every detail of the sun-bathed branches and the patches of blue sky that framed the picture in my mind.

  Paul blew the first five-minute whistle. I sat up and saw Ian beaming at me. I looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed the flush of red I could feel creeping over my face.

  “Your turn.” I dared to look at Ian whose smile had changed to a frown. He reached behind him and produced a small notebook. It was folded in half and tattered from being shoved in his back pocket. He opened it and began to write. No props! I mouthed, which didn’t break the rules in my opinion, though Simon pointed a finger at me and shook his head. I pointed at Ian.

  “No props, Ian!” Simon chided him.

  Ian shrugged his response, put the journal away, and shot a dirty look in my direction. Narc, he mouthed.

  He stood up, rigid. He stepped forward and swung his right foot out in a small arc and then snapped it back until his heels tapped. His right arm snapped into a ninety-degree angle with his body. Then his hand snapped up into a forty-five-degree arc until the tips of his fingers hovered just above his right eyebrow. His hand, fingers together but outstretched, shielded his eyes from the sun. Every move precise. Every angle perfect. The expression drained from Ian’s face except for his eyes. They stared into mine like two lasers, the one discrepancy.

  Shoulders back. Arm higher, Jon. Hold that hand steady. Never connect eyes.

  The nearly perfect military salute. I could have identified it from my high chair.

  Tears burned my eyes. My vision blurred. My heart tripped in my chest.

  The thin wall that separated my worlds collapsed, and suddenly the sandy beach burned hot. Iraq hot. The wind swirled around us and tasted of spices I couldn’t and didn’t want to name. Someone, maybe Jake, shouted. I jumped and looked around.

  It was just the beach at Spirit Lake Bible Camp. I forced my breathing to slow. My head spun. I blinked twice and focused on Ian who waited at attention. The little toy soldier, ready for war.

  His shoulders were squared. His fingertips did not quiver.

  At ease, I mouthed. Ian’s arm fell to his side. Emotion flooded his face, like a flickering flame that had been relit.

  Paul blew the whistle again, signaling the end of Silent Introductions, Part 1. Part 2 loomed. I made Ian go first when it was our turn to introduce each other. I expected some push back, but he surprised me.

  He stood up and cleared his throat. “I’d like to introduce you to Jonathan Cooper. Jonathan is a veteran at Spirit Lake Bible Camp. He’s been coming here since he was a kid.”

  How did he know that?

  “In fact, he’s hoping to be a junior counselor here next summer. Paul, I’d seriously consider giving him the position. He deserves it.” Ian was the actor now. He had the whole camp eating out of the palm of his hand. “However, you may want to consider a few of his drawbacks. For one, he doesn’t know how to tie his shoes. He tries real hard though. In fact, he knelt over and looked at his feet for a good ten seconds, but nope. Couldn’t figure it out. He also has narcolepsy and might need to lie down unexpectedly, preferably under the shade of a nice tree.”

  I wanted to be swallowed up by the beach.

  “Jonathan also has a raging case of athlete’s foot. Either that or he plays soccer. Honestly, I couldn’t tell which. Obviously making Jonathan Cooper a junior counselor is a big gamble, but I’d give him high points for being a good sport, wouldn’t you?” Ian bowed and the traitors clapped.

  Paul laughed so hard tears actually ran down his cheeks. Even Simon chuckled. I looked over at the brown-haired girl, the one I should have chosen as a partner. Her eyes said she understood. At least she wasn’t laughing at me. Next to her sat Jake, wolf whistling at the top of his lungs. One look at him told me I could look forward to plenty of foot jokes over the next four weeks. At least he wouldn’t know what narcolepsy meant. Ian bowed again and sat down.

  “Hi, everyone! First, let me make something clear. I play soccer. I do not have athlete’s foot.” I stood up, lifted my right foot to feign a kick, and almost died of embarrassment when my shoelaces swung out in the air.

  “My partner is Ian McGuire.” Something in my words struck me as odd, but I couldn’t take them back. “As you can tell, he’s smart, funny, and exactly the leprechaun we’ve needed at Spirit Lake Bible Camp. Ian, where did you stash your pot of gold?” Okay, not the most brilliant thing I could have come up with, but I only had fifteen seconds’ notice. Ian grinned and pointed toward the forest. “Oh, and he’s a writer, I think. He sure is good with words. Don’t you agree?” The clapping, I suspected, was still meant for Ian.

  I started to say something about the salute, but the words died in my mouth as I realized that it had not been part of Silent Introductions at all. It had been between us, a private McGuire moment.

  Finally, I swallowed the last dose of humiliation, sat down on the beach, and listened to the brown-haired girl as she struggled to make Jake sound interesting.

  *

  “Hey, how did you know all those things about me?” I grilled Ian as we walked toward the dining hall. The scent of barbecued beef and corn on the cob filled the air. “That I’ve been coming here for years and that I want to be a junior counselor next year?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” The color of Ian’s eyes, I decided, was smug. Not green. Smug.

  “Not to me, it isn’t. Do you read people’s minds or something?”

  “Maybe.”

  I looked at him curiously. I mean the guy knew some seriously uncanny stuff about me.

  He saw my gullible face and laughed. “Okay, not really. The first time I met you, you jumped in between me and Jerk.”

  “You mean Jake.”

  “No, I meant Jerk. Don’t interrupt.”

  I laughed, despite myself.

  “Conclusion: you’re willing to go out on a limb for someone you don’t know. Sounds like someone who wants to be a junior counselor to me.”

  “True, I guess. And the fact that I’ve been coming here since I was a kid?”

  “Easy. I overheard you tell Paul you’d known him for seven years.”

  “Oh yeah, I guess I did.” It all made perfect sense when he explained it. “Still, the junior counselor thing was pretty slick.”

  “Basic observation and conclusion. It’s not rocket science.”

  “But what was up with the salute?”

  “You’re a military kid, right? C’mon, Jonathan. It’s written all over you.”

  “Yeah, I am. I just didn’t know it was obvious.”

  “It is. At least to me.” Ian frowned.

  “Man, you nailed that salute. It was perfect. But you were supposed to be doing something about yourself. Not me. So technically you cheated.”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.” He slid into his place in the dinner line. Eyes still locked on mine, his hand reached for a tray and silverware.

  “C’mon, Ian. Someone taught you that. Are you a military kid too?”

  “I’m nobody’s kid.” The silverware clattered onto the plastic tray.

  His eyes said drop it. So I did as he walked away and sat at a table by himself.

  The salute, just like Ian, remained a mystery.

  Chapter Four

  My he
ad spun as I crawled into my sleeping bag. It was hot enough in the cabin to sleep on top of it, but I figured I should make the mosquitoes work for their feast. Improve the species by winnowing out the weak.

  WWJD? A hint of moonlight peeked through the window, and I read the letters someone had carved into the wooden base of the upper bunk, directly over my head. What would Jesus do? Good question. Most of the time I even came up with a pretty good answer.

  “Lord, please watch over my dad. Keep him safe and bring him home to us soon. And please, be with my mom,” I whispered.

  Jake’s obnoxious snores interrupted my prayers. The chirping of crickets filled the night. I’d loved listening to crickets ever since Dawn taught me about them last summer. She said that some male crickets dig tunnels into the ground with amphitheater-shaped openings where they sit, rubbing their wings together to produce the familiar chirping sound. The cricket song we all hear, Dawn had explained, is actually nothing more than an extremely loud booty call that can be heard miles away by female crickets. She had pointed out that there were three songs: the initial call, the love song when the male senses that the female is nearby, and the celebratory song after they’ve mated. Talk about kissing and telling! she had joked.

  Jake’s breathing finally quieted into a rhythmic pattern. I closed my eyes and floated on the gentle waves that lapped against the shore of Spirit Lake where thousands, maybe millions of male crickets were burrowed in their amphitheater holes, chirping their songs.

  That’s a whole lot of horny insects.

  Silence filled the cabin as the kiss-and-tell songs of the crickets died away. Aaron slowly unzipped his sleeping bag. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. This scene was not supposed to be witnessed, I was certain. The screen door creaked open, and I heard the muted sound of it carefully being closed. What are you up to? My curiosity nibbled at me like a mosquito until I finally swatted it and got out of my bunk. I stood outside the cabin, looking for something to indicate which way Aaron had gone. The sound of a snapping branch came from deep within in the forest. Gotcha. I followed the narrow path that led away from camp and deeper into parts of the forest I’d never explored. I walked slowly, carefully, crouching low. Suddenly I ran out of trail and stood at the edge of a clearing, unable to believe or look away from the scene in front of me. Aaron leaned against the trunk of a tall tree, his face turned up toward the sky. Moonlight beat down on him. A smile played across his face. A slight figure with red hair knelt in front of him. Sara? The name exploded in my mind. I stepped into the clearing and walked closer toward Aaron who ran his fingers through the short red hair. Short red hair? Ian turned and looked directly at me with those remarkable green eyes and winked.