Page 8 of Kayak Girl

It felt as though I’d been dealt a triple blow to the stomach. One, the bill to fix Mabel was steep. That meant more late nights copywriting for me. Oh well. Two, it would take at least two weeks for some parts to arrive. Three, Andy said he’d have to send Mabel to a specialist mechanic for the bumper, so I would be van-less for about ten days. This was a lot to digest on a Monday morning. Thoughts of Brenda’s offer of free accommodation floated through my mind, and I hoped that meant staying in the dormitories and not just on a campsite.

“Okay. Thanks Andy. I don’t think I have a choice but to go ahead. Please, just remember, I have a teeny-weeny budget.”

Andy gave another solid nod. “Of course. We’ll try to get you the best price on everything. I’ll even throw in some free labor.” The clinking of metal in the background hinted at the labor he mentioned, and I wished I didn’t have to accept his offer of free work.

“Thank you so much. And thanks for squeezing me in today.”

“Sure, no problem. Anything for a friend of Dave’s,” he said, his bright smile stealing my attention away from the grease marks smeared about his face.

I returned to my campsite, and as I pulled up, I gently pressed the brakes. The last thing I needed was for the bumper to fall off entirely. I sat in my van and stared straight ahead. This was not how it was supposed to be. This was not part of the plan. Almost a month in one place because of car trouble? This trip was supposed to be free of responsibility and full of fun. What now, God? I didn’t want this responsibility. Everything seemed to be looking up yesterday with the prospect of the summer camp. Now this?

Responsibility had been my middle name for years, and I was sick of it. I mean, c’mon God, cut me some slack here! All I wanted was a bit of a break, a chance to live a normal life. But every time I tried to let go of all that responsibility and conflict, it seemed to cling even tighter. I took a deep breath. Positive. I needed to stay positive. I checked my phone, and two unread emails stared back at me. No thanks. I would deal with those later.

Instead of wallowing in my disappointment, I got myself ready to join the summer camp. I would be an hour late. But I promised Brenda I would still attend today, and I wouldn’t let her down.

Chapter 8

GRAY

Iwas supposed to co-lead with Brenda. But now that she was confined to the campgrounds, I found myself leading our group of kids solo. It was a daunting prospect, yet Amy reassured me it was just for a day; a plan for tomorrow was already in the works.

Fueled by determination to compensate for Brenda’s absence, I dug deep and brought all the energy and enthusiasm I could muster to the activities. Case in point—I was half covered in flour as we were midway through a game of flour tag. It was kids against leaders, and I was a favorite target with the regulars. The kids each got a mini bag of flour, and the goal was to cover the leaders in as much flour as possible. We’d take a photo after ten minutes of play and then turn the tables on the kids. Later we’d compare photos to see if the leaders or kids would be champions of flour tag this year. One kid had chased me to the far side of the beach and emptied his bag of flour on me when I crashed into someone. I grabbed my victim by the shoulders to prevent them from falling over.

“I’m so, so sorry. It’s hard to see with all this flour on my face. I hope I didn’t hurt you,” I said.

“No, it’s no problem.” Her voice was a melody amid the chaos.

“Elle?” I squinted, trying to make out her face through the white haze.

“Gray?” Elle replied, her tone a mix of confusion and amusement.

I was so surprised to see her that I forgot I looked like a flour ghost. I smiled and judging by her expression, she was probably wondering if she had stepped into a weird horror film. I attempted to wipe the flour off my face and carried on speaking as if this was normal.

“What are you doing here?”

“Um…I’m here to help with the summer camp. Please can you point me towards Amy?” she asked with a shy smile.

“Oh. I don’t think we usually take on strangers. But as soon as this round of flour tag finishes, I’ll take you to her.”

Before we had a moment to say anything else, a massive flour clump hit Elle. Brandon, a ten-year-old with a good arm, had sent one flying in her direction. Now that she was tagged, several other kids zeroed in on her and flour rained down. She just stood there giggling.

“Elle, you’re supposed to run; that’s why it’s called ‘flour tag’,” I said, as I grabbed her hand to pull her away from the onslaught.

Seconds later, Amy blew the whistle to mark the end of round one. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. With Amy’s stout frame and hair pulled back into a super tight bun, she looked like a drill sergeant. But, despite her severe appearance, she was a total sweetheart.

Thinking of appearances, I dropped Elle’s hand like a hot potato. I didn’t want her to read anything into it and touching her didn’t help my resolve to keep my distance from her. But the sooner I introduced her to Amy the sooner she would leave. It was sweet that Elle wanted to help, but I was certain Amy would never allow it.

I knew I shouldn’t try to connect with Elle any more than I had already, but a part of me was eager to show her that I was indeed capable of more than just asking obvious questions, so I made light conversation. “Don’t let this go to your head or anything, but in all my years of playing flour tag I’ve never seen anyone transform into a walking, talking snowman so quickly,” I teased as we strolled towards Amy.

Elle chuckled, brushing off some of the white powder. “Is that so? I should probably add ‘Professional Flour Magnet’ to my resume then,” she said, her eyes twinkling with humor.

“Hey Amy, this is Elle. She would like to join us as a leader today. I know we don’t normally take on strangers, but she said she wants to chat to you,” I said, watching Amy closely for her reaction.

Amy looked Elle up and down, her expression thoughtful and reached to shake Elle’s hand. “Hi Elle, so lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for agreeing to fill in for Brenda. I got your paperwork all squared away yesterday.”

“I’m so excited. Thanks,” Elle responded quickly, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

What? Was this Amy’s “plan”?

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