Chapter 15

There were four cabins, two girls’ and two boys’, open for primary week. Each one had only seven or eight campers, and the girls’ cabins had three counsellors each. The campers were happy and adorable, and went to bed (if not to sleep) at 9:00 pm. It had the makings of a fun, easy week, if all went well. With a higher staff:camper ratio than at any other time, everyone had more time off, and the stresses involved in large group management were significantly lessened. Individually, however, the campers required more attention than during any other week.
Jesse, along with many of the counsellors, acquired a ‘cling-on’, their affectionate name for those campers who required extra-special attention, and attached themselves to one particular staff member. Hers was a shy six-year-old with messy blond hair and scared blue eyes. The attachment formed on the first night, upon the loan of a stuffed white rabbit that was known to cure stomach-aches. From then on her little hands required the rabbit at night, and Jesse during the day. Her name was Samantha, and despite her neediness, Jesse liked her.
At 9:30 on Tuesday night, Michael and Jesse sat talking on the picnic table by the beach. Neither of them had any work to finish in the office, the campers were quiet and mostly sleeping, and it was still tolerably light out. Instead of going straight to bed, they related all the funny happenings of the day and laughed at them together. Michael came to remark on how enjoyable the week was so far.
“It usually is,” Jesse responded.
“Do you think it’s because the camp is so small this week?”
She thought that had something to do with it. “I think it is something more than that, though,” she confessed to him. “Have you noticed how happy we all are to be chased, climbed on, and hugged? To wipe their dirty faces and dish out their food, and pour their juice for them?” She could remember herself last year, fixing all her girls’ angel costumes for the Christmas play at the end of the week. She had never felt more like a proud mother than she had that night.
“They’re all so young... and a lot of us are old enough that they could almost belong to us. We all know it, even if we don’t realize it. We sense it the very first day; as soon as those twenty-something parents arrive and we see that they aren’t from our parents’ generation, they’re practically from ours. Suddenly, these kids look less like our little brothers and sisters, and more like the children we could be having in a few years.”
Michael grinned. “So we’re all playing house?”
“More or less, yes. We become more responsible, more protective. This week, we are moms and dads.”
“Even you?”
“Yes, I think, even me.”
“And how do you like being a mother?”
“I like it very well, for a week.”
“You’re very good at it, too,” Michael mused. “The kids love you. I’ve never been a cabin leader, so I haven’t had much of a chance to play Dad.” He looked out at the lake as he spoke. “I’d like to have kids, though.”
“Would you?”
“Yeah, someday. A whole passel of ‘em.”
Jesse smiled. “Exactly how much is a passel?”
“Oh, six or seven at least.”
“You’re very ambitious.”
“Maybe I am. What about you?”
She was caught off guard, and an answer caught in her throat for a second - just long enough for Michael to realize his mistake.
“I never thought about it,” she said as quickly as possible. A few quiet seconds passed, and then she turned the conversation back. “Six or seven kids, eh?” she mused, grinning. “And all with those golden locks, I suppose.”
“You like my ‘golden locks’?” Michael asked mischievously, glad that he hadn’t managed to ruin the evening, and to be back to their usual banter.
Jesse looked up into his eyes, comically prophetic. “One of these days, some girl is going to fall in love with those curls, and she’s going to want six or seven kids with hair just like it.”
“Well that’s encouraging to know,” Michael said, leaning back idly. “My face sure isn’t going to recommend me.”
“Or your manly physique, I’m afraid.”
“If you’re referring to our arm-wrestling bout, I’m more than ready for a rematch whenever you decide to obey the rules.”
“Don’t worry, there’s no need. I’m sure you’ll get a wife no matter how scrawny you are.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, I think. You seem very certain.”
“Well,” Jesse confessed, “if it was just your hair, I wouldn’t be. But you do have some other qualities to recommend you.”
Michael demanded to know what they were, but she refused to tell him, saying she didn’t want his head to get any bigger. She would admit to nothing specifically, except admiring his hair.
Jesse retired shortly after, but Michael of course was not tired in the least, and went to find some company. He strolled through what was by now near-darkness, to the office. He found Keith at a computer. The kitchen girls, maintenance, and some of the office staff were in the dining hall having pizza, and the noise from their party filtered in to their workplace.
“I hate primary,” Keith said in answer to Michael’s greeting. “Those kids get to stay up all night and I can’t get any work done.”
“Working?” Michael asked. “At this time of night? That doesn’t sound like the Keith I know and love.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m finished anyway,” and so saying, he logged out and rolled his chair away from the desk. “You up for anything?”
Michael grinned. “What’d you have in mind?”

It was a wet Wednesday morning. Campers and cabin staff were filing into the dining hall for breakfast after a very unusual flag-raising. The three Homestead boys stood back together around the flagpole, admiring their handiwork. While most of the maintenance crew was looking for the Canada flag, “O Homestead!” waved proudly in the morning wind.
Michael was very impressed. “This was a great idea.”
“Well it was mostly my idea,” Zeb interjected.
Keith would acknowledge only that Zeb had helped, to which Zeb protested excessively.
“All you said was that we should make a flag. It was my idea to run it up the flag pole,” Keith reminded him.
“And I came up with the design,” Zeb protested.
“That’s one awesome painting job, Mike,” said Keith, disregarding Zeb. “You’ve captured the essence of Homestead.”
While Michael humbly accepted the praise, Zeb reminded them that, being the only one of their group to have ever been a maintenance boy, it was he who had pulled off the swap. He knew where the Canada flag was kept, and how to fold theirs in the same way, so that it could be solemnly hoisted up the pole while the national anthem was sung, and unfurled with one strong tug on the rope on the final “For thee!”
When Zeb was done feigning offence, they all agreed that it had been a worthwhile expenditure of an evening. It was a very respectable prank, with no hurt feelings. Only the maintenance crew were slightly put-out, and it served the added function of shameless self-promotion.
While they were standing there still, enjoying the sense of accomplishment, Michael happened to notice Jesse in the pavilion. He was not surprised - she rarely went to breakfast anymore, as it only made her feel worse - but he thought she looked more than a little ill this morning. She smiled at him, though... and then Keith saw her too and called out. Beach-boy Keith, with his California coolness, off to the rescue. He was quickly at her side asking if she wanted anything, or if he could do anything for her. She politely declined the offer, but Keith would not be put off. She turned abruptly away from him, and Michael saw more clearly the sadness in her eyes that she was trying to hide, and the want of colour in her face. For a moment he was afraid she was very ill, but she seemed to recover herself enough to turn again and give Keith some sort of answer. He said something back, which Michael could not hear, and she seemed to nod, looking at the ground. When Keith put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, she willingly leaned in to him, and he held her for a few moments.
Presently the two separated, and after a few more words she walked to her cabin. Michael hardly knew what to think of the scene he’d just witnessed. Whether he was more troubled by Jesse’s evident distress, or by the means of her comfort, he did not consider.
He and Zeb joined Keith, and when she was a safe distance away, Zeb asked, before Michael could - “So what was that all about?”
They were all walking towards the dining hall together, Michael got the benefit of Keith’s answer: “It’s May’s birthday today.”
Once again Michael was struck by the fact that they - Jesse, Zeb, Keith, and most of the staff here - shared something that he didn’t. This person, May, was someone he could never know. One always feels left out when others are talking about people or places one has never seen, but often just listening to the stories grows some familiarity. This wasn’t the case with May. Though she was remembered with fondness, the stories about her were told guardedly between those who had known her, like things treasured but not to be taken out often. Michael rarely heard more than a few words about her. When he did, it seemed as though the speakers would like to say more, but the memories were too precious, or painful.
“She would have been 21 today,” Keith added.
All three were quiet, then, until they entered the dining hall, and the sight and sounds of happy children claimed their attention.

“May... most of the time, I can think of you without grieving. I can remember you with only a little sadness, and think of you in Heaven, and smile. Not today, though. Today it hurts too much. Oh, it hurts. It hurts that you’re gone and I can’t talk to you. It hurts to be left behind. I miss you so much. I still can’t believe you’re not here, that you’ll never be here again. It’s like I stepped into a different universe the day you died. How can there be a me without you? I don’t belong in this world, this strange time in which you don’t exist. Why did you have to go? Everything’s wrong without you. I took you for granted, I didn’t always know it was you that made things so good. It makes me want to be better, because the world lost so much goodness when you left it. This place is full of you. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of you. I try, but I can’t seem to fill your shoes. I can’t even be me anymore, because a big piece of me is gone, too. I’ve tried to be strong, but I’m so tired. The ground keeps crumbling under my feet. It’s slipping away, and I don’t know where to go to find some solid earth again. What kills me most, though, is that I want you so selfishly. I want you for me. I want you to make my world complete again. I don’t really know what you feel about it. What was it like, to be taken away so early? Would you have rather stayed, or are you happy where you are? I never really understood you, so I don’t know. I admired you, I looked up to you, but you confused me, and I never got around to really making you out. I try to piece together my memories of you, to make a picture of the person you really were, but I can’t do it. I get little glimpses, but the true you isn’t there. You were so very, very good. I could never understand that. But I did love you. I didn’t always think I did, but I loved you.”

Jesse folded her journal closed with the pen stuck in the spine, put it on her dresser, and had a good cry. Not the serene, cold kind of cry that she had recently found herself capable of, but harsh, aching sobs. She sobbed till she was worn out, until she could not even groan. Every once in a while calmness threatened to interrupt her release, but then she reminded herself that May was dead, and, discovering yet more pain, she was able to take up the lament again. She would not let herself forget. It was May’s birthday today, and she deserved to mourn as much as May deserved to be mourned. When she was alive, this day was for celebrating her life. Now, it was a reminder of her absence, of the fact that she had not lived another year; everything opposite to what a birthday was for. Birthdays had taken on a new meaning since May’s death. She had died on Jesse’s own birthday.
Her throat and lungs were sore afterwards, but she felt calm, almost peaceful. She lay on her stomach low on the bed. Her feet dangled over the bottom edge. Slowly she pulled herself higher up, so that her head reached the pillow. She didn’t sleep with a pillow, it was actually a green garbage bag filled with clean laundry, but for now she needed something to hug. She wrapped her arms around its comforting softness.

Little Samantha, with tangled hair framing her dirty but hopeful face, looked up at Jesse and asked the question she most dreaded. “Will you be my swimming buddy?”
Jesse smiled and tried to look like she would love nothing better. “Of course, I would...but if I’m your buddy then someone else might not have anyone to swim with. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Unfortunately, Samantha was not yet at the stage of development where she could be reasoned into selflessness. Her face fell. “But I want you to be my swimming buddy,” she pouted.
Jesse was forced to make a deal with her. They would wait by the lake, and if nobody else needed a swimming buddy, she would go with her. It had always worked before, and she hadn’t yet actually had to go swimming. She changed into a bathing suit and shorts, pulled a big t-shirt over that, and went out fully expecting to find another camper to be Samantha’s buddy.
Today was different from all the other days, though. There were no single campers in need of a buddy, and Jesse was actually going to have to go in the lake. She eyed it warily. Then she looked down at the little girl holding her hand. Her head was only a little higher than Jesse’s waist. They would have to stay in pretty shallow water. Her t-shirt might not even get wet, she reasoned optimistically.
She had forgotten how much little kids splash. Though the water was shallow, in very little time she was soaked, and the t-shirt clung to her every curve unless she continuously released the suction by pulling it away from herself. She soon gave up trying altogether.
“Jesse!”
She looked around to see who had called her, and saw Sam, who was life guarding, waving at her. She waved back, and located little Samantha. Towing her giggling body behind, she sloshed toward Sam through warm, knee-deep water.
“I see you finally gave in,” said Sam.
“I guess I might as well, while I still can,” Jesse answered. She twirled around with her cling-on still holding onto her arm, screeching in delight.
“You worry too much,” Sam advised her.
“I can’t help it. How are things in the kitchen?” Jesse asked.
“Easy. It’s such a small week, I hardly feel like I’m earning my keep, even with life-guarding.”
“Well, that’ll change. We’ll all be earning our keep next week - Intermediate’s always full.”
“What’s ‘earn your keep’?” asked little Samantha, who didn’t like being ignored.
Jesse gave her another little spin in the water. “Something little kids don’t have to worry about,” she assured her.
“Are you busy tonight?” Sam asked. “After lights out I mean, around ten, maybe?”
“No, I’m not busy,” said Jesse.
“I think we should talk. I mean,” with a meaningful look at little Samantha, “it would be nice to talk sometime without little ears listening.”
Jesse nodded. “Sure, yeah. We should talk. Do you want to come over tonight?”
“Sure. Ten ok?”
“Yeah. Ten is great.”
“Okay, see you then,” said Sam. Little Samantha was already dragging Jesse away.
Trudging back to shore when swim was over, Jesse saw Michael sitting on the picnic table. She was too far away to be sure, but she had a feeling he was watching her. It was silly, of course. He was watching them all, he was supposed to be watching them - that’s what the shore guard did. But she still thought he was watching her the most. Had she worried him this morning? She knew she should have just stayed in her cabin. Why did she keep doing things that drew attention to herself? She really didn’t think she was trying to do it, but she was succeeding at it, anyway.

That night at ten o’clock, Samantha and Jesse sat on the bed in Jesse’s cabin. It was actually dark out, finally, and Jesse’s lamp made Ingleside feel safe and cozy. Sam’s news managed to overshadow that comfortable feeling.
“They didn’t,” Jesse said in disbelief.
“Oh, they did,” answered Sam.
It wasn’t possible, not at Bible Camp. If what Samantha had just told her was true, it would shatter her belief in one of her most favourite concepts of all time: the Rocky Bay Bubble. The Bubble was responsible for every good thing about camp. It kept the world out - it’s worries, it’s influences, it’s noise, all of it. The Bubble started at the second railroad tracks on Bible Camp Road, and surrounded both of the camp properties, and part of the lake. Music, magazines, and various electronic devices were confiscated on entry, and although the campers brought a certain amount of worldliness in with them, (anger and hurt and all that), the influence of Christ was greater on the inside. His love permeated and filled it, and started working at the kids’ defences soon after they arrived and their parents left.
May had told her about The Bubble a long time ago. Jesse had laughed, but when she came to Bible Camp herself, she realized it was no laughing matter. The Bubble was real. Everyone who worked in the camp knew there was something to it. May believed it existed partly because of all the staff that were filled with love and the Holy Spirit, and partly because so many people were praying for Rocky Bay.
But the world had just broken in through those defences. The Bubble had been shattered, or at least breached. Something had happened that wasn’t supposed to happen at Rocky Bay Bible Camp, and as far as Jesse was concerned, someone was going to pay for it.
Two of the kitchen girls - Missy Nerino and another girl - had been smoking pot behind their cabin, Grassy Knoll. It was shocking, but true. Sam had been tipped off by Amy Laverly, and then caught them in the act herself. They were picked up by their parents that evening. As overwhelming as the information was, Jesse barely had time to absorb it before Sam changed the subject.
The second bit of news was the real reason Sam had wanted to talk with her, and it was a doozie. Apparently, there was a rumour floating around that Jesse’s ‘attackers’ had been, in fact, only her boyfriend. No one seemed to know who started it, and Sam was fairly certain that almost no one believed it, but she thought Jesse should know about it anyway.
Jesse sat in silence for a while, not sure what to say. Sam didn’t say anything either; she was not a person of many words, and Jesse was learning to appreciate that quality.
“Thanks for telling me,” Jesse said eventually. “You know, I used to think you didn’t like me.”
“I didn’t,” said Sam.
Jesse was appalled. “You didn’t?” she repeated.
Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s life. Not everyone likes everyone.”
She said goodnight, and Jesse was left to think over the strange conversation. What on earth was she supposed to do with this? she thought to herself. Her safe place was crashing down all around her. The Bubble that protected her and everything she believed to be sacred seemed to have burst, and in only a few words. ‘Pot’. ‘Rumour’. ‘ I didn’t’.
“God, what are you doing to me?” she asked. Hadn’t she gone through enough? Were two months of peace too much to ask? Two months of happiness, that was all she wanted. Two months where everything was the same, familiar, safe. Two months of being close to God, feeling him work in her life, and seeing him work in the lives of others around her; of being reminded daily of his love and protection, the side of God she had grown up believing in. She needed it to give her strength to get through what came next. Where was he now? Why wasn’t he protecting this place? Was it her? Had she done something to incur his terrible wrath, the kind found in the Old Testament? Was he punishing the entire camp because she was there? “For his wrath can flare up in a moment,” she quoted bitterly.
But also, “Blessed are all who take refuge in Him,” she was reminded.
She went out and sat on her front step, ready to reevaluate her beliefs.

When Michael arrived at the staff prayer meeting on Thursday, Jesse was already there, as usual. What was unusual was that her hair was still wet. Could the infamous early-riser have slept in this morning? As unlikely as it sounded, it was possible. He cozied up next to her on the yellow wooden bench.
“Now, you almost look as though you weren’t up at the crack of dawn this morning,” he said.
She leaned in to him a little to speak quietly so that she wouldn’t disturb the others. “I may have slept in a little,” she confessed guiltily. He enjoyed the sensation of her closeness far too much, and he told himself so, without producing any change in his feelings. He was a little light-headed all through the prayer meeting.
After the meeting, while the cabin staff woke up their campers and got them ready for flag raising, Jesse asked him an odd question.
“Do you believe in The Bubble?”
“The bubble?”
She looked at him expectantly.
“Which bubble?” Michael asked uncertainly.
“The Rocky Bay Bubble,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“I’m not sure if I know what you’re talking about,” he answered slowly. But he couldn’t bear the look of disappointment on her face. “Maybe if you described it to me...?”
As he’d hoped, her enthusiasm seemed to return. “Oh, you know about The Bubble. It starts at the second tracks,” she said, trying to remind him. When he didn’t register any recognition, she went on... “You know, the feeling you get when you come to camp, how it’s different from the world outside. It’s like, how you can say things and talk about things here that people would think you were nuts for anywhere else; or how we can pray for a camper’s lost glasses, and the next day someone finds them in the lake.”
Michael was beginning to understand. A bubble. Yeah, that made sense. “Kind of like the boy in the bubble, keeping all the germs out?” he ventured.
“Exactly!” Jesse said, happy that he understood.
As she explained more of the aspects of The Bubble to him, Michael found himself becoming more interested in it, even adding some suggestions of his own.
“It probably has something to do with the history of the place,” he mused, tapping the bench in front of him absently. He and Jesse were now sitting facing each other. “This camp is what... 60 years old? It had good beginnings, from what I hear, a lot of prayer, a lot of sacrifice. God honours the prayers of his servants.”
They were still talking when it was time for flag raising, so Jesse came in for breakfast so they could continue the conversation.
“Do you sometimes think people back then were very different from us?” she asked him.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, they just seem so much more...Godly. You know, when they show black and white slides of the men and women who started the camp, and tell about how they prayed for things, and trusted him when there was nothing here. Even when my parents tell stories about how the Board would have prayers answered when they were younger. It’s almost like we don’t have as much faith as they did back then, even 20 years ago.”
“Well,” he began, putting some real thought into this one, “the past always seems a little rosier than it really was, I think. And it’s easier to see God’s plan, and the prayers he’s answered, when you’re looking backwards. I don’t doubt that those were wonderful people, but they had faults just like us. I’m sure they had doubts, too, and times when they didn’t feel like God was listening. We shouldn’t make them into something they weren’t.”
Jesse saw some logic in this, but she felt there was more to it than that. She was glad when Michael continued.
“At the same time, I think they deserve respect. They laid a good foundation, and they were good examples to the rest of us.”
“But do you ever feel like we’re not following it?” Jesse asked, grabbing hold of that idea. “Their example, I mean. Sometimes I don’t think we pray enough, or maybe we don’t pray for the right things, or we don’t really believe God will answer.”
She looked terribly worried about this. That, in itself, impressed Michael. He’d never met anyone who questioned the kinds of things she questioned. While it seemed to bother her, it showed him where her heart was, and it awed him.
“Well...I’d say, if you don’t think we do, you’re probably right.”
She sat up straighter, for she’d been leaning over the table to talk to him. “You think I’m right?” she said in amazement.
He nodded. “If you think we can do better, then we can. There’s no such thing as too much prayer, or too much faith.”
Jesse looked more closely at this boy...no, this man....in front of her. He was taking her seriously. He hadn’t brushed her off, or told her she needed to be realistic, or tried to change the subject. He listened, and he acted as if her opinions, as a Christian, were valid, almost as if they mattered enough to do something about them. He wasn’t looking at her like she was a silly little girl, and he wasn’t patronizing her. At least, he didn’t seem like he was.
She leaned in again. “Have you ever thought about it before, yourself? I mean, do you really agree with me? Or are you just giving in to avoid an argument?” she asked, not quite believing him.
Michael leaned in, too, and answered with only a slight twinge of arrogance, “As we all know, I am an excellent arguer; so no, I am not trying to avoid an argument.”
Jesse grinned without meaning to.
“And no, I haven’t really thought about this before, at least not in the way you have. But we’re a team, right? We’re all “brothers and sisters in Christ”, and if one of my sisters feels like we’re not praying enough, then we’re not. That’s not the kind of thing you argue with.”
Jesse’s grin broke into a look of utter astonishment. “That’s what I thought!”

In spite of the fact that, since it was Primary camp, parents would be arriving to take their children home shortly after supper, Jesse put off confronting the person responsible for the undesirable rumours pertaining to her. She knew who it was, but she wasn’t sure of the best way to handle the situation. Technically, she knew she had to talk to her, but when it came down to it, she’d rather not. She would be just as happy never mentioning the offense at all. She had told her story in the beginning, to the entire staff, and she felt that was more than enough. So what if some chose to believe something else? She didn’t need to defend herself against idle rumours or even malicious gossip.
Deep down, she knew it was more than that. Someone had made this up, and lying about others should not be tolerated in a Christian camp. If it were about anyone else, and she heard of it, she would certainly have to deal with the situation. Still, she couldn’t make herself actually approach the perpetrator, and at lunch she was afraid Sam would ask her about it. She didn’t. Phil did.
“So, you know what people are saying about you, right?” she said point blank, careless of the little eyes and ears at the table.
Jesse feigned ignorance. “What people?”
“Oh don’t give me that,” begged Phil, “you know who it is.”
Jesse wondered about that. “How do you know I know?” she asked.
Phil talked through a bite of mashed potatoes. “She doesn’t like you, and she doesn’t really try to hide it.”
Jesse couldn’t refute that, though she was unaware that others had noticed the hostility.
“So are you gonna talk to her about it?”
“Probably,” said Jesse.
“Today?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re lying,” said Phil matter-of-factly.
Jesse’s expression challenged that accusation.
“There is no way you’re going to confront her today,” Phil asserted. “You’re too nice. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t talk to her at all.” Phil scooped up some peas with her next bit of potatoes. “But you don’t need to worry about it,” she said between bites. “I took care of it for you.”
Jesse stared in blank shock. “You did what?”
Phil shrugged her shoulders. “I talked to her for you. Don’t worry, I was very Christian about it, I didn’t yell at her or anything. But she should be apologizing to you sometime today. Tell me if she doesn’t. No, better yet, tell me when she does. Otherwise, I’ve gotta talk to her again, and bring somebody with me, and I don’t want to do that, for all our sakes.”
Jesse closed her eyes, not knowing what to say to this.
“Don’t be mad, Jesse,” said Phil. “You know you never would have done it, and it had to be done. Now you can get on with the more important and pleasant parts of your job. Besides,” she added as an after-thought while chewing a piece of chicken, “stress isn’t good for the baby.”
Jesse gave her an evil glare as a little boy beside her said “What baby?” She was able to hush him up and distract him with a juice re-fill, but that didn’t much soothe her annoyance with Phil.
“Oh come on,” the smaller girl intoned, “they’re five! They don’t understand anything!”
“I understand,” piped up the tiny girl in braids beside her.
“What do you understand?” asked Phil in the serious tone that her campers, who were used to being talked down to, appreciated.
The little girl thought for a minute. “I can say the alphabet,” she offered.
“That’s not understanding,” Phil said, somewhat cruelly, and turned away from her abruptly. “See?” she said to Jesse. She held up the potato bowl for a refill, and it was picked up by Amy Laverly.
“You worry too much,” said Phil.
“Don’t let her worry,” said Mark, passing by, “it’s not good for the you-know-what.”
Jesse hung her head down in defeat. “It really doesn’t matter what I do, does it?”
Phil’s smile didn’t falter. “You might as well stop trying.”

While waiting for two young campers to finish going to the washroom, Jasmine considered her options. There weren’t many. The obvious one was to apologize to Jesse, but that didn’t appeal to her. The other was to not apologize; but she didn’t like the idea of that short blond girl coming after her again, either. Phil had made it very clear that she expected her to “make things right” with Jesse, and Jasmine knew she would tell on her if she didn’t follow through. She didn’t know if they had any proof that she was the source of the rumour about Jesse, but she doubted that it mattered. She didn’t expect a fair trial here, and she couldn’t risk getting in trouble: her parents had made it very clear that they didn’t expect to see her for the rest of the summer, so being sent home was not an option.
“Did you wash your hands, Sarah?” she asked as one girl attempted to leave. The guilty camper reluctantly made her way back to a sink.
She would just do it, she decided. Apologize, make it official, and they’d have to forgive her. It would all be over...then again, it would be an admission of guilt, and that idea rubbed her the wrong way. Yes, she had started the rumour, but she definitely wasn’t sorry for it. Why should she be? Her version was probably closer to the truth than anyone realized, anyway. It had been stupid, though. She should have known they’d pin it on her, with or without evidence. No one here liked her - and everyone worshipped Jesse. Not that she cared, of course. People could take her or leave her, it didn’t affect her one bit. Why should it? She didn’t like them either. Even Hannah and Susannah were just barely tolerable.
The girls finished washing their hands, and she walked out with them towards the cabin to get ready for swim. They were all going in this afternoon, she and Kaimi had decided. Most of them usually went swimming anyway, but there were one or two reluctant ones that were getting pretty smelly, as well as dirty, and that wasn’t the best way to hand them back to their parents. Jasmine didn’t have guard duty today, so she planned to speak to Jesse while the kids were in the water.
As soon as her campers were lined up at the beach, clad in bathing suits and carrying towels too large for them, she went in search of Jesse. It was some time, however, before she found her, walking from the chapel carrying a Bible under one arm, and looking somewhat lost in thought. Jasmine stopped her on the road behind the dining hall to make her apology.
“Jessica!” she called as she approached. Jesse recognized her and slowed; they stopped, facing each other, and before Jesse could say anything Jasmine said as casually as possible but a little out of breath, “I’m sorry for what I’ve been saying about you.”
“It’s just Jesse,” Jesse replied, still looking rather distracted, and then, almost smiling, “Sure. It’s alright. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
Jasmine stood there as Jesse walked past her without another word. That was it? It seemed strange. Jesse really hadn’t looked upset. She had expected her, if not to get angry as Phil had, at least to try to make her feel guilty in some way: by lecturing her on lies and gossip, or by telling her how hurt she’d been by them, or expounding on her forgiveness. Jesse had done none of these things. She acted as if she really believed it had been an innocent misunderstanding, almost as though it hadn’t affected her at all.
Of course, it wouldn’t, she quickly thought, watching Jesse calmly continue on her journey to the pavilion. It wasn’t as if anyone had really believed her story, anyway. Jesse was perfect in the eyes of all who beheld her; how could someone like that be affected by her, a person of no significance whatsoever? Her brief astonishment at Jesse’s casual manner was that quickly replaced by bitterness.
She turned to take a shortcut through the bush to her cabin, but once there she heard someone else coming down the road, and rather quickly. Slightly interested, she looked over her shoulder to see who it was. From the cover of trees and shade, she saw Keith rush down and catch up with her least favourite head cabin leader. Jasmine moved to get a better view. Jesse seemed surprised to see him, but pleased. Keith stood close as he said something to her, placing his hand on her arm. There were no campers around, since most of them were swimming, and they had no reason to think anyone else was watching. Jasmine was too dumbfounded even to smile. Something was up with these two. As she watched, Jesse hugged him around the neck, and then Keith kissed her on the cheek before they parted.
It was unfathomable. She never would have guessed it; she had been so sure Jesse liked Michael...but come to think of it, the interest seemed to come more from him than from her. He watched her, he made excuses to be near her, to talk to her. But this...she had hugged Keith, not the other way around, and he had actually kissed her, and in the middle of camp, too. Why they would take such risks was beyond her, but she was certain that something was going on between them. They had obviously been in the chapel together; doing what, she wasn’t going to guess, but she had seen the kiss, and that was all she needed.