Pete
It’s time to start packing up and loading the bus, even though the campers aren’t done with their activities yet. But we have to pull out around dark so we can be back to the city by midnight. I look around and hate to even think about leaving. When I go back to the city, I’ll go back to house arrest and I’ll be back with my brothers. I’ve enjoyed the freedom I’ve had here, though, and now I know what I want to work toward. I don’t know what Reagan’s schedule looks like, but I hope she’ll still want to see me when she comes back to the city.
Gonzo rolls up and stops in front of me, cutting me off on the walkway toward the barn. I’d hoped to be able to find Reagan there. I want to talk to her before we pull out. I really don’t want to leave her, but I don’t see how it can be avoided. Gonzo doesn’t grin at me for the first time since I met him. He looks almost as morose as I feel. “What’s up?” I ask.
The sky, he says, pointing toward the heavens.
“Ha ha, very funny,” I say. But he’s not laughing along. “Something bothering you?” I ask.
Just you, he says.
“Me? What did I do to bother you?” I go back to stacking chairs because it’s what we’re supposed to do before we leave. He follows me. Then I have to help all the youth boys load their bags into the bus.
You were going to leave without saying good-bye? He glares at me.
“We still have a few hours left before we leave,” I remind him, glancing at my watch. “Were you hoping I wouldn’t forget to kiss you good-bye?” I walk over to him, wrap his head up gently with my arm, and give him a noogie. He shoves my arm away. Is he really angry? “You’re serious, aren’t you? You think I would leave without saying good-bye to you?” I squat down and look him in the eye. He’s serious. Much too serious.
I thought we were pals, but you kind of disappeared for the past few days, he says.
I look toward the house. I have spent quite a bit of time with Reagan, but I haven’t left Gonzo out. I’ve made sure he had boys to talk to and hang out with. “Did you get to make some friends while you were here?” I ask. I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. “I was going to give this to you later, but I guess I can do it now,” I say. I hand it to him. “It’s just my phone number and my address. I hope you’ll stay in touch.”
He grins. You do love me, he signs.
Hell yeah, I love the little shit. He’s hard not to like. “Love is a pretty strong word,” I say. “Tolerate would be a better word.”
He grins. I tolerate you, too, he signs. He draws air quotes around the word tolerate. If that’s how you tell people you love them. He looks me in the eye. Thanks for everything this week. I appreciate it. And appreciate you.
“I appreciate you, too, kid,” I say. “I want you to contact me if you need me. For anything, all right?”
His eyes get all shimmery, and he signs the word yes. His mom calls his name from their cabin where she’s packing, and he turns to go help her. “Hey, Gonzo,” I call.
He looks back at me.
“You’re a good kid, and I’m glad I met you,” I say.
Yeah, yeah, he signs back. You’re going to make me think you have a crush on me. He looks past my shoulder. Speaking of crushes, he signs. Then he points and winks. See you later.
“Not if I see you first,” I shout to his retreating back. He just flips me off rather than looking back at me.
I laugh and turn around to see what he was pointing at. But it’s not Reagan. It’s her dad, and he’s bearing down on me carrying that f**king hatchet. I cross my hands in front of my lap and step to the side. “Pete,” he says. He’s a little out of breath, and I feel like he ran here to find me.
“Mr. Caster,” I say. I look at the hatchet, and he raises it up, appraising it greedily, like he’s enjoying all my discomfort. “Everything all right?” I ask.
“Fuck no, everything is not all right,” he says. He scrubs a hand down his face. He points a finger in my face. “I’ve messed around with you all week long, and now I’m done playing.”
“I didn’t realize we were playing, sir,” I start.
He holds up a hand to stop me. “My daughter likes you a lot, and that’s the only reason I tolerated you this week.”
“Um,” I start. But he shuts me up again with a hushed breath.
He raises the hatchet, and I step to the side. “But I swear to God that if you do anything to hurt my daughter, I will chop off your head right after I chop off your nuts.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her, sir,” I say.
But he shushes me again. “When you get back to the city and there’s no dad with a hatchet waiting to emasculate you, you remember that I am just a phone call away. Do you understand?”
“Clearly,” I say.
“That’s all I wanted to say.” He heaves a deep breath and blows it out. “It was nice to meet you, Pete. Hope you have a good life if I never see you again.”
He walks away, swinging his hatchet. Shit. I wasn’t expecting that.
Phil whistles as he walks out from behind a tree. “Thought he had you there for a minute,” he breathes. He grins and shakes his head.
“Do you know what that was about?” I ask, jerking my thumb toward Mr. Caster.
“Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe.”
“Care to share?” I ask.