“But I won’t be happy with Kyle! I mean, I’ll be back on your side of the sea soon.”
“Ocean,” Lottie corrected. “But, think about it. Would you rather have everything stay the same, like those housewives in the seventies, feeling safe – but also stifled and numb? Or would you rather take a risk, fight for something, even though it may make you more unhappy in the end, but you’ll grow, Amber. You’ll be changing. You’ll be living…”
I really did start to cry then.
“Lottie, you’ve made her cry again,” I heard Evie say through the speakers.
“It’s good crying though.”
I sat up, showing them my red, tear-stained face. “Yeah, it’s good crying.” I cried harder.
My friends were right. I’m sure some expensive psychiatrist could say smart things about my drinking habits, and the fact I’m always angry, and that I tend to be sarcastic and nasty to new people as a way of pushing them away, and not wanting to get with Kyle, and they could easily pinpoint everything down to the shit with my mum, and abandonment issues, blah blah blah. And I could just roll over, and accept that’s who I am, or I could fight…I could fight to change myself…to grow…even if it hurt, I would grow.
I kicked my chair back and stood up.
“Girls, I have to go somewhere,” I said.
They began applauding.
“Go snog his face off!” Lottie saluted me.
Evie peered at the camera. “You have a booger on your cheek you may want to wipe off first.”
“You know I love you girls?”
“We know.”
“I miss you so much!”
“We miss you too,” they chorused.
“Thank you. Honestly, thank you.” I almost started crying again.
“Stop blubbing and go do the right thing,” Lottie said. “And then, of course, tell us every single detail the moment you can.”
I ran out into the darkness, my flip-flops kicking up scratchy pine needles. I could hardly remember where his cabin was, but something led me there. It was so dark. Probably so dangerous. There could be bears, or hyenas, or maybe not hyenas because this wasn’t Africa, but other eaty type things.
What if I was too late? What if I’d missed my chance? What if this made my heart explode into so many pieces it was essentially vapour rather than a rather important organ needed for survival?
But I had to try… I might get hurt, but I had to try.
Scratched and scared, I flung myself out into the moonlight. I was here. In the clearing where his cabin was. Everything was so still. So stunning when lit by the moon. Two little cabins – one Russ’s and one Kyle’s. Full of sleeping kids, and maybe, just maybe, full of my future.
I paused.
I wasn’t sure where Kyle would be sleeping. The weekenders were here until tomorrow, would they sleep in Kyle’s bed? Was he sleeping elsewhere? Also, if I got caught, I would be in unimaginable trouble…
I tiptoed through the clearing. My heart thunk-thunking so noisily that I could actually feel it hitting my ribs. I got to the cabin door, stopping to take a deep breath. I was doing this. I was going to do this…
The door creaked open and I winced, waiting for stirring…but I was greeted with snores. Twelve humps of bodies dozed peacefully under their camp blankets – gentle grunting snore sounds echoed around the wooden walls. It smelled a bit, but I wasn’t going to let something like that ruin my romantic moment. Kyle’s bed was right next to the door. I crept up to it. Seeing his face, all covered in sleep, silenced any nerves. Instead I just felt light, giddy almost. And relieved that I’d found him.
This boy likes me. This sleeping boy actually likes me.
And…
… You better wake him up now otherwise this will quickly feel creepy.
I reached out and shook his shoulder, the warmth from his sleeping body seeping up my hand.
Kyle stirred.
Kyle opened his eyes.
“Am…?” And I covered his mouth with my finger, and said, “Shh!”
Oh, my heart, it was going bonkers. Every inch of my skin was covered in goosebumps.
“Is everything okay?” he whispered, his eyes all wide. He was panicking. He thought something was wrong. Of course he thought something was wrong. You only break into a cabin full of sleeping children in the middle of the woods and shake someone awake at 1 a.m. if somebody is sick or dead. I nodded frantically, as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes and sat up.
“Hang on… Why the hell are you here?”
I shushed him again, and pointed to the door.
“Outside.” I tiptoed out before anyone else woke up.
It was a whole new level of dark outside – the moonlight had dipped behind a cloud and it was only just bright enough so I didn’t trip over the log. I stood in the middle of the clearing, my arms wrapped around myself to keep warm in the night-time breeze, still in my pyjamas, waiting for him.
Kyle stumbled out into the night. He didn’t have a top on, which made my stomach lurch. He wore pyjama bottoms though – chequered blue childlike ones.
“Amber?” He looked at me, in all my pyjamaed pale ginger-skin glory. “What’s going on?”
I stepped forward – knowing that this was the stopping point, and I wasn’t going to stop. I was ready to step over my imaginary line. I was ready to live. And get hurt. And maybe he wouldn’t kiss me back. I mean, why would he kiss me back? I’d totally rejected him, and he was probably over it already, or had thought about the whole long distance thing and realized what a stupid idea it was.
“Amber?” he asked again, looking confused. Maybe worried. I’d still not reassured him no one was dying. “Is it your mum?”
I took another step, close enough to touch him. I reached out and, unsure of myself, but also never surer, I stroked his tanned cheek with the back of my hand.
“Kyle…I…”
One more step. Our faces so close to touching.
I was over the line now. The line was a dot on the horizon behind me.
I put my other arm around his neck, and moved my head forward. Every part of me was alive and dancing. Kyle looked down at me – I loved how he was tall enough to look down on me. His eyes were wide, puzzled, uncertain. We stared at each other. Then I closed mine and leaned forward.
I brought my lips to his clumsily, holding down tears.
… Kyle kissed me back.
SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:
No time
+
No privacy
+
An insatiable desire to spend every second alone with each other
Twenty-six
Camp days became an exquisite torture, measuring the time I wasn’t able to touch Kyle. It was a surprise how much it physically ached.
I lived for the tiny moments I hoped no one would notice. The knowing smile Kyle would give me over the paint pots, as I helped the kids blodge oils onto canvas during my art class. The shoot of electricity that ran through my body whenever he made an innocent-looking reason to touch me.
“Out of the way, Amber,” he said, gently touching my back to move me to one side. “I need to get to the arrows.” And my body sang with so much happy static, I missed every shot in archery, arrows flying up into the trees or skidding along the ground – the kids laughing at my ineptitude, Kyle giving me another secret smile, knowing he’d caused it.
Over the next week, we concocted all sorts of ludicrous errands we needed to run, just so we could grab time together.
“Oh no,” I’d say, during lunchtime, when the kids were sitting in a dusty circle somewhere, inhaling more sandwiches before more baseball. “I forgot the milk cartons. Can anyone help me carry them from the kitchen?”
“I’ll go,” Kyle shot up his hand. Russ studied us both, maybe figuring it out but I really hoped not.
“You sure?”