GOLD STAR SANDERLING

5.

I sat against a tree somewhere off the path between the far side of the lake and camp, huddled around my soaking self as the chill of a midsummer night in New England settled in around me. I couldn’t hear the dance in the distance anymore. I closed my eyes and tried to feel under the earth for the tiniest rumble of vibrations from the speakers, but there was nothing to remind me where I was or where I had been. I felt so totally alone.

My eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but also getting further from the truth. Shadows became people and animals and houses in the distance and then disappeared and it was just me and the trees, again. A spooky kind of quiet, but also with every kind of sound that nighttime nature brings. 

And then I heard a distinct crackle. That specific kind of crunch. A footed pace. Slow and careful, not wanting to startle me. Human. Him.

He came for me. He just needed that dance to be over. “Until the sky falls down on me” and a couple of ad-libs and a fade out and then nobody would question it. He could thank Jenna for her time and run off and come find me. Save me.

So, I sprung up.

My hoodie and my shorts were soggy and heavy like wet cardboard as I pushed myself up to see him, to hold him, to really kiss him this time because there would be no doubt.

And there was Leanne Farnsberg.

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn't.”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where'd you go?”

“Here.”

“But why?”

I shrugged.

“I saw you leave. I'm sorry I followed. I'm sorry I didn't stop them.”

I shrugged, again.

“Are you sure you're okay, Teddy?”

“Uh-huh.” My voice broke. 

She ran over, hesitant to hug me, maybe because of the wet clothes, maybe because I looked as broken as my Walkman. She squeezed my forearm, like an adult, and I started crying. And then I kind of collapsed onto the ground, again. And she must have learned it from an aunt or her mom or someone, the way she just sort of stood over me, held my shoulders, and rubbed my back like I was puking and it was soothing. And when she felt my breathing calm, she knelt down next to me, her bare knees unafraid of the sticks and the twigs and the dirt. 

“It's okay. It's gonna be okay.”

We sat in silence for a bit, facing each other on crossed legs. Hunched. Beat.

And then she casually started filling me in on all the gossip from the dance. Who liked who. The kisses, the touches, the tears. Counselors getting drunk. All the scandalous plans for after lights out. She brought up Nick and Jenna and I think she felt me tense. 

She said Lauren was mad at Jenna because Lauren had danced with Nick first and they were both mad at Nick, but Nick had run off somewhere. My face must have been a puzzle because if he had run off, he’d know where to go. But he never came.

Leanne told me that as soon as she turned away after asking me to dance, she sensed that something was wrong. And when she turned back around, she saw me walking up the hill to the cabins and so she followed, just to check. And I guess when I was heading over to the lake, she noticed two of the boys from my bunk who were playing around outside the tent spot me and huddle and agree on something and then sneak off after me. She thought about telling someone, but didn't want to get me in trouble, so she decided to keep an eye on them herself.

She didn't want them to see her following, but she was pretty sure she knew where I was going, so she went around the camp in the opposite direction - through the lower bunks, past the tennis courts, around the baseball diamond, and all along the perimeter of the woods. At twilight, no less. And because it took her longer to get there, taking the scenic route, she was too late to stop them. She heard the splashing, the laughing, and my screaming.

‘Oh God,’ I thought, ‘I didn't know I screamed.’ 

And as soon as she knew what was happening, she rushed to help, but when she heard them running back, she hid behind a tree. She said they seemed scared, like they had done something really wrong and like they were trying to figure out how they’d get away with it. Once they passed, she ran and scoured the lake. When she didn’t see me, she was afraid I drowned.

“I was afraid you drowned and I didn't know how I would know, but then I thought, ‘No, I would definitely see his dead body, like, floating in the water or something, so he must have run off’ and so I kept looking and here you are.” And with a pleading, pitying sigh, “Was it him?”

“Huh?”

“Nick Sanderling.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You like him.” It was almost inquisitive in its hesitation, but not a question.

“What?”

“You like him.”

“I don't. I don't.”

“But I've seen you. I saw you. Laughing in the field on that day it rained. And I've seen you sneaking off out here during Free Play. I know you’re friends. But, like, secret friends. And. And I saw you watching them dance. That's why I went up to you. You seemed sad. I didn't know at first it was Jenna or if it was him, but it's him, isn't it?”

And I hung my head low and sniffled out more tears. And this time she pulled me into her arms. And that's when she saw the Walkman. 

“What happened to it?”

“Went in the water with me. It's broken.”

“No, no, it's probably not broken. Did you try it?”

“Try it?”

“Did you try to play it?”

“No.”

“Well if you didn't try it, then you don't know.”

She picked up the Walkman, shook it a bit, kind of clipped the mouth back on. In the moonlit dark woods, with a squint, it did sort of look like a Walkman again. She held up the headphones between us like they were sitting on the head of a ghost, so that we could each take an ear. We made a wish, held our breaths, and she pressed play. It spattered and spit and screeched and made a horrible sound that wasn't music at all. 

“Yup, it's broken,” she said. 

“Yeah.”

“We should bury it.”

“Huh?”

“We should bury it. It meant a lot to you, we should bury it. Right here.”

And before we did, she took out the mixtape. 

“This might be salvageable,” she said. 

But I shook my head, “Bury it. Bury it.” 

So we dug and we dug til our fingers were black and muddy and gross. And we buried my Walkman and Echo and the Bunnymen and The Smashing Pumpkins and The Smiths and Under the Milky Way and Only Happy When it Rains and Love Will Tear Us Apart.

And I didn't exactly pray. But I thanked it. For sitting next to me. For helping me along the way. For not judging me when I danced or sang along. For letting me be sad. For letting me feel truly and madly and deeply.

And then I smiled, looking at Leanne taking it as seriously as I was. 

“Thanks, Leanne. You saved me.”

And she morphed into the stupidest, most amazing slow motion smile I've ever seen. 

“Am I a hero?”

And we laughed, really good. Until her face fell into a serious, stony concern. 

“What? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You're a mess.”

“Well, yeah.”

“No, like, you're soaked and you're shivering and you're covered in mud now. You’re gonna need new clothes. What are we gonna tell everybody?”

“I don't know. What even is happening now?”

“Bonfire.”

“What’s that?”

“After the dance, before lights out, there’s always a big bonfire on the beach. The real grownups will be gone after that and it’s just counselor's in charge.”

That made me shiver even more.

“It's pretty crazy,” she said, “There’s a lot going on. But, still, they’re on pretty high alert and they’ll wonder what happened to you.” 

“They won't notice me.”

“I think they will. Teddy. We have to tell them what happened.”

“No, Leanne, please, no. It’ll just make it worse.”

“Ok.” She seemed defeated, but conciliatory, and then she said, “I have an idea. Come on.”

And she grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the path and we ran the correct way towards camp, but she stopped at Nick’s little spot and before I could see or think or understand, she threw herself into the water.

“Leanne!”

I panicked in the brief moment her body disappeared under the lake, but then she hopped right back out again all shaking and shrieking and cold and alert. 

“What are you doing?” I shouted at her with hilarity and relief.

“I'll say you helped me.”

“What?”

“I'll say you helped me.”

And she trudged herself out like a lake swimming summer camp pro, grabbed my hand, and led me back to camp.