The Thrums of a Hummingbird
Complete Story
It was raining harder than ever in Camp Dash. The rain tore through the canopy of trees as the wind howled and ripped its way through the branches. Bennett lay in his bed. It’s a good time to contemplate something when the world is pouring. Thoughts about the possible world-lines ahead of him swirled in his head like the rain pouring outside his cabin. Would our friend group stay together? How would I like college? Will my friends remember me? It was peaceful, almost. Within the storm he found some sort of serenity. Serenity from the strong pitter-patter of the clouds releasing their precipitation. The whistles of the wind, the rustles of the trees. Peaceful even though the generator had gone out and power was lost. Thoughts of the enormity of the water cycle, which was drilled in his mind some hot, lazy afternoon in Biology class. It was raining so hard his hummingbird feeder was barren and alone. Desolate in the storm. Hopefully, his bird companions had found shelter like himself. Sadly, the camp’s general mood did not match his. Figures were headed his way as their sound raced ahead of their dash up the steps, thunder at their heels. The mesh door flung open as the two figures shrouded in yellow ponchos stumbled in.
“Bennett, Are you alright? I don’t know if the camp can take much more of this. The rec room is already a complete mess.” This was Steven, the head counselor – the most successful kid in his high school, classically beautiful, brown locks topped his head, alongside deep dark eyes. He was the top of the social pyramid. Interestingly, during school, Steven and Bennett nearly ever hung out, or even acknowledged their existence. A slight head tilt in the halls, eye contact for two seconds or less, but at the camp it was different.
“I’m fine, just relaxing,” Bennett said. He wanted to add, It’s the only thing you can do at times like these, but his shyness only allowed him to say fifty percent of what he was thinking at any one time.
“We need your help to make sure the kids are alright -- especially yesterday.” This was Alice, always found within a six-foot radius of Steven, like a pirate’s trustworthy parrot, except this parrot matched Steven for looks. The ancient Greek gods would be proud of the duo, equal of wit, equal of character, equal of looks. If Steven was Zeus, Alice was Hera.
“You’re right, yesterday was not a good day.”
“I’ll help,” Bennett let out a sigh. Wishing he could continue his lackadaisical and languid solace in his bed and let the storm pass over. Steven was right though, yesterday was not a good day, while they retreated to their alcove on the lake the accident happened. It happened while they took a bong rip or two, stared out into the lake and experimented with the boundaries of their bodies and their minds. Maybe this thunderstorm was retribution for doing so, a demand to return the camp back to nature. Dawning his own camp trademarked, yellow poncho, the group ran into the storm together, headed towards the rec-room to use their collective brain power to salvage what they could.
Camp Dash was for lower income kids. The kids probably from semi-broken homes (honestly, who isn’t?) where their lifestyles inflict varying amounts of psychological damage – from major to severe – their reward was to be placed in the middle of nowhere, with facilities that were subpar, with counselors who were not up to par. The landscape of the lake a reflection of that stratification. Camp Dash was worst off, for the kids who were, as you expect, worst off. Meanwhile, Camp Oak was on the opposite side of the lake, exclusively for kids from the local prep school. The buildings all twinkling with their soft silver outline while still being managed by teenagers.
The crew barged into the rec-room, whose name was something of a misnomer. There was one dingy pool table while, in fact, most of the room was used as storage space. Canoes with patches of duct tape lined the walls, while bags of various sports equipment littered the floor. This was the norm. What was not was the growing puddle of water enveloping the rec-room from the various holes lining the sheet-metal roof.
“What’s the plan?” Alice said.
“Do the kids even play with most of this stuff anymore? Some of this seems like it hasn’t been touched since the 50’s, maybe we leave it?” Bennett replied.
“Are you kidding? It’s our job, our duty. Not to mention the kids still love to play with this stuff. Besides after yesterday we have to make sure we do our jobs.”
“Ugh, I don’t remember there being soooo many holes,” said Alice, “Maybe we should call Richard.”
Richard was the only adult for miles – if you could call him an adult – he was stationed half an hour away and was the chief of the three camps that lined the lake. The supposed chief of the lake for several decade now. He spent most of his hours lying in his rocking chair with his old basset hound beside him. Both no longer the emblems of good health. Anyone who dared walk past his rickety cabin would get a good yell, they wouldn’t get up, no, instead just yell and howl. Exclaim but not act. He only really visited the camps when there was an emergency and he hated emergencies. Yesterday he was debating labeling the situation with the child as a “minor incident.”
“What would he do? Do the rain dance and make it stop pouring? He’d be as helpless as we are,” Bennett said.
“He is in charge though.”
“Bennett brings up a good point,” said Steven, “I don’t know how he would help. He’d mosey over and yell at us and then what? Remember when he made Michael cry so bad he quit? We already got threats of a shutdown after yesterday, it’s thanks to Richard we didn’t. If he is good at anything, it’s avoiding getting in trouble. Let’s just keep calm, try to get through this, and make sure the kids are all right. Get the mop, I’ll try to stop the leaking.”
So, they went to work, one of them mopping the floor, the other two taping the holes shut with various junk they could find, a decently organized attempt to make the rec room some semblance of waterproof. The rain was getting worse. After a couple more clashes of thunder, another counselor, Chuck barged his way in with the company of two kids – the twins, Linus and Larry.
“Golly, what a storm, huh?” Chuck always had a smile on his face. “You hear that kids? That’s what it sounds like when it rains cats and dogs!” The twins let out a chuckle.
“The rain is fun! Can we play outside?” They replied in a chorus.
“I’m afraid not, we gotta keep you youngins safe, but tomorrow we can play all day. The rec-room is looking good you guys, splash a new coat of paint on this bad boy and it will be good as new!”
The rec-room was looking remarkably better. Only a couple of drips could be heard and the equipment was only half-soggy.
“Phew, it was some work. How are the kids doing? Did you put them in the dining hall like I asked?” said Steve.
“Yessir, couldn’t have done it without these two, the best de-puh-ties this side of the Mississippi.”
“And Eric?” asked Bennett.
Eric was the kid from yesterday’s best friend, and he had not taken it too well. Ever since, he had holed up in his mind he had been letting out his anguish in peculiar ways. Bennett had found him the other day, behind one of the lodges, poking at a dead squirrel who seemed to have fallen from one of the trees. The look in his eyes was mirror-like, as if it was reflecting whatever images reach him without processing it – an impenetrable wall. His eyes looked older than they should. Bennett decided to keep this a secret.
“Fine, I do-o-o believe,” Chuck replied harmoniously.
“Good.”
The Oak’s leaves rustled in the storm.
The first day of camp is always chaos. Bennet knew the local farmers marked this day on their calendar as to avoid the small country road. Today, a train of cars cut through the woods to drop off their children. Steven was welcoming the kids, new and old, to another summer at Camp Dash, standing below the shade given from the heat by the giant, wondrous Oak that stood in the middle of the camp,
“Hey! Seems like you grew a couple inches!” Steven ruffled the kid’s hair, as they let out a manly grunt imitating a football linebacker. Steven always radiated an air of confidence the kids seemed to bask in.
“And how was your school year?” Alice kneeled to meet her in the eyes and exchange pleasantries about their year, they looked like peers.
Kids were running from car to counselor, tired goodbyes and good lucks spewed out of the parent’s mouths. The kid’s youthful energy radiated into entropy as they spun, yelled, greeted, tripped, and got back up to do it all over again.
Bennett gathered around his campers and began telling them the myth of the giant Oak in the middle. Eric and his best friend looked on starstruck, as they loved listening to stories and letting their imagination build safe, little worlds. It was sort of Bennett’s tradition on day one; however, as he spun his yarn his mind drifted elsewhere. Thinking about the parents driving away with half empty cars, they marked this day as the start of their summer, leaving the kids here at his stead. Why him? He was but a bewildered adolescent who hadn’t even figured out his own life. His chief concern right now was figuring out a formula to maximize his pleasure while minimizing his responsibility. He was already looking forward to those golden moments where the counselors snuck away to their little alcove in the lake, put on some summer tune they all sort of enjoyed, tried out various substances and let out conversations into the wind. Golden little moments where the boundaries of themselves began to fall apart and began being redefined. Through conversation, exploration, drugs, touch. Bare legs hanging outside the boat, bare eyes looking up towards the clouds. The lake would become a golden mirror those days, a mirror to see who they were, who they were yet to be.
The thunder hit like a giant wave.
“We should head to the cafeteria next and set up sleeping bags,” said Steve. “I think it will be safer if we all sleep there tonight.”
They gathered their gear and dashed towards the dining room, Chuck playing in the rain with the twins on the way there, hopping from puddle to ever-growing puddle.
There wasn’t a concrete reason for Steve to be in charge -- all of them only had one boss, Richard; everyone else was paid equally -- but they all followed Steve’s say. It did make plenty of sense though: without him, Chuck would be outside, playing in the rain with the twins. Alice would probably not even be here, she had outgrown the camp long ago and would rather be studying her physics texts, tending to her blooming love of science. Bennett would be back at his lodge, reading a book and listening to the chords of sound the rain created. His mind not on his book but on the welfare of his hummingbirds. Maybe they were dancing around his feeder at this very moment. He hoped they were all right…
The dining hall was vast and lofty, with tables lined up in rows parallel to one another. Perfect breeding ground for the social hierarchy kids formed. Who got to sit where, and with whom, dictated the strata of the various sub-groups the kids would create. The hall was empty except during mealtimes where counselors attempted their hand at cooking with preset recipes the company who owned the camp provided. Luckily, kids were usually not too hard to satisfy; a stew with whatever prepacked and preprocessed meats and vegetables lined in its plastic packaging was, overall, satisfactory. Tonight, was different though, the dining room was alive with panic. The normal cliques had dissolved into hysteria as each child was dealing with crisis in their own individual way. Some sobbing uncontrollably, others shivering, yet others laughing, each a unique reaction to the thunderstorm – or yesterday’s event?. There were thirty-two kids in total – well thirty-one now, and six counselors. Their goal was to keep calm and survive the storm. On one of the tables a radio was playing soft, comforting jazz from one of Lucy’s tapes.
Steve switched the radio station to scan for news. Unfortunately, he was met with the emergency broadcast for the county, “Tornado warning, I repeat tornado – zzppt – severe thunderstorm –zppt – take shel –zzpt” and with that, the radio let out its last somber breath as it returned to its embryonic static. It began to hail.
“Well, that’s just great, we’re stuck here in the middle of nowhere and there might be a tornado out there?? What are we gonna do???” Shouted the fifth counselor, Kai. He was always worried about something, whether it be Lyme disease from a tick, hypothermia from the water, or the camp getting destroyed by a tornado – admittedly, the last one didn’t sound so far-fetched right now. His fingers gnarled up from his constant knack of picking at them when he was nervous, which was all the time. The stress from the last twenty-four hours had clearly taken a toll on him, as his hands looked rawer than usual.
“We gotta keep calm, help me set up sleeping bags,” Steve yelled out, “Alright kids! We’re having a slumber party tonight! We can play with flashlights and tell some stories, how does that sound?”
There wasn’t much of a response, but the counselors set to work getting the kids comfortable, microwaving s’mores in the kitchen, which was off limits to the kids.
“You want a smoke?” Lucy asked, “I know were’ inside but it’s for the nerve and we’re in the kitchen, so the kids can’t see it, so I think it will be ok, we can just tell ‘em it’s the s’mores.” Lucy had a new personality each summer. She had gotten into some rougher stuff in her last year of high school and nw was chain smoking whatever she could get her hands on, whenever she could get the chance, “it’s my last two cigs, I was gonna go buy some today but… think of it as an honor.”
Bennett almost acquiesced.
Alice said, “Lucy, are you crazy? Put that away, or if you have to, find somewhere outside to do it, jeez.” Alice was definitely not a smoker. The hail picked up and made the deafening noise of the clangs on the metal roof even louder – if that was possible.
“I wasn’t asking you… I was asking Bennett…”
“I don’t care who you were asking, put those away before I throw them out into the rain.”
“Ugh. Fine… I’ll just keep on makin’ shitty microwavable s’mores,” she sighed. “This is so not worth $7.25 an hour.”
Even though, like Bennett, she likely had no idea what to do after high School, Alice was quite a talented artist. The denim jacket she always wore had an emblematic cat slurping on ramen which was pretty much her trademark. She would spend class doodling and drawing while her mind ventured on loftier ideas that were not present within the four walls of the classroom: romance, the psychedelic effects of the mind, somehow breaking free of the bodily forms he was given – to name a few. Steve was a five star-athlete. Sure, he would party too much sometimes which may not be the best for his burgeoning athletic career, but there was no doubt in whatever sport he applied himself he would be able to bring the steadiness and calm he brough to the camp counselors. He was off to the state university with a full ride for athletics. Alice was accepted to one of the best universities in the country (was it an ivy-league?) but limboed between going or opting out to go to the state university and stick with Steve – “the physics program was better than people gave it credit for” was a common adage in her friend group. Wherever she landed, professors would surely take note of the sharpness of her mind. Meanwhile, Chuck was to work at his father’s pool company. If you ever asked Chuck about his dad and the company, his eyes would become star-struck (even more than usual) as he beamed about the tiling they used, the various finishes to make a pool stand out, the perfect ratio of chemicals to keep a pool clean. Kai was going to community college before attempting a jump at some school with higher ambitions, his true love was woodworking which he had applied to some of the camp. The cabin his squad stayed at was the most luxurious cabin on all wof the Camp due to his repairs and additions. Bennett got accepted to an okay-ish university, but his hopes were to be a poet -- which was to his dad’s chagrin, and in return made him apply as an economics major because “that’s where the money was.” Meanwhile, the children they were supervising’s plans extended only to the day ahead, hoping it was sunny, a perfect day for flying a kite, at least he hoped.
A semblance of peace had been assembled by the camp counselors. The kids had settled down, and the counselors could finally breathe. Alice was looking for Steve, but she couldn’t find him. He wasn’t in the mess hall, and wasn’t in the kitchen, where could he be? There’s no way he could be outside, could he?
She decided to check the backdoor and lo and behold, there he was. Smoking a cigarette with Lucy.
“Steve… I thought you were going to quit.”
“I was. I just needed to clear my head.”
Lucy looked on without saying a word.
“Why are we even still counselors at this camp, Steve… we are terrible at our jobs. We almost got a kid killed yesterday.”
The raised Steve’s ire. Throughout the litany of issues that had struck the camp he had always kept a level head and tried his best. Sure, they had goofed off from time to time, but everyone needs to kick back some time, he thought as the nicotine coursed through his system giving him a trademarked head rush
“Never say we are terrible at our jobs. Sure, we slack off here and there but look at how much joy we bring to these kids. Add to that, when we work together, I truly think we make magic happen. We dealt with the rec-room in a breeze.”
“Steve a child is at the ICU.”
“No,” replied Steve, “no he’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He took another drag of the cigarette and stepped into the rain.
“Remember yesterday? He barely resembled a kid anymore, lying on the floor, his leg shattered.”
“That didn’t happen, and it wasn’t our fault.” The raindrops were streaming down him.
Lucy and Alice looked at each other in confusion.
“We are exemplary at our jobs, if we get told to do something we execute.” He decided to go back inside and left the girls outside. Alice looking out into the rain, letting her eyes come in and out of focus.
“Definitely feels as if life is but a series of traumatic events. You only try to put yourself back together hoping you can outpace the next car crash, death of a family member, the injury of a kid, or the ultimate trauma of all – death,” she offered the cigarette to Alice. Alice took a drag and passed it back. Lucy tossed the cigarette into the rain instantly putting it out. “Come on Alice, it’s been a long day.” She put her arm around Lucy. As they entered, a crash, then commotion.
Kai was a wreck; his mind was running through all the possible scenarios that could go wrong as he sat on a cafeteria table watching over his set of kids. A pang of pain and the hot sear of a cut reminded him head cut through his epidermis once again. He sat on his hands to prevent any more nervous picking. As he scanned the room, he settled in with the makeshift peace they had momentarily created he wondered about his fellow counselors. He saw Bennett telling a story to a group of kids, probably a good idea with how much they had gone through. He knew Lucy, Alice and Steve were in the cafeteria but where was Chuck? He scanned the janky cafeteria and couldn’t find him. He got up and started looking. Not in the mess hall, not in the kitchen, where could he be? He heard a muffled noise from the supply closet. It had to be him.
“Chuck?” He exclaimed as he peered through the open door. Within, Chuck was an absolute wreck. His face absolutely flustered. It was obvious he had been crying for quite some time. Kai had never seen him like this, as long as he had known Chuck, he was always a beacon of optimism, an aegis anyone could lean on at a time of need. As soon as Chuck noticed him, he started wiping away his tears and his trademarked smile returned.
“Hey Kai! How’s it going?” He kept trying to make his disheveled appearance look normal. “Just checking on the supplies, who knows how long we will be in here, ya know?”
“Are you okay, Chuck? Never seen you like this.”
“Seen me like what? I’m totally dandy, my brethren.”
“We’ve definitely been through a lot, huh? I guess it’s even gotten to you. I’ve always been a nervous wreck. I can’t stop picking at my hands, my mind seems to always be on overdrive. Honestly, it makes me feel a little better seeing you cry. I thought you were infallible – a superhero. Feels good to know you are a mortal like me.”
“Hey now, were all in this together,” Chuck let out a smile, his optimistic shield slowly coming back online.
“You think I’ll ever be able to be as cool of a guy as you are?”
“You already are, Kai,” replied Chuck, “Come on, let’s get back out there and show the kids what we are truly made from. Like my dad would say, the strongest swimming pool tile in the tri-county area!” As they re-entered the mess hall, a crash welcomed them.
A flash of lightning illuminated the mess hall as if it had been struck. For a second, it seemed as if you could see each other’s skeletons. It was almost peaceful, being drowned in the light. The roar of thunder followed and swallowed any semblance of peace rattling the ceiling, rattling the tables, rattling their bones. The kids panicked. Eric panicked. Then Bennett decided on a story. “Falling sucks, huh? Whenever something falls it's usually never a good thing. Everything falls though, so you can't be afraid. You are going to fall one day, we all do. Life is just a cycle of falling, and picking yourself back up, rinse and repeat. I know what happened yesterday was horrible – there's really no words for it. Back when I was your age, there was this abandoned house. Everyone was scared to death by it. Huge, hulking, broken, but all of my friends were strangely attracted to it. So – of course – we went exploring.” He had gotten Eric's attention, it was working. “The house was scarier than I ever could have conceived. The stairs were falling apart, previous explorers had sprayed graffiti everywhere. Someone had drawn an old woman on the walls, the old woman who supposedly haunted the house. Me and my friends pushed onward, no idea why.” The hail was still knocking on the remnants of the roof. “We went up and up, until we were on the top story, next to a busted stained-glass window looking down unto the world below us. Imagine being a bird, being able to look down at the world. We were enraptured.” Did Eric know what enraptured meant? He decided to keep going anyway. “One of my friends thought it would be a good idea to yell 'It's her! The old woman!'” At that moment, everything crawled to a snail's pace, my friend behind me turned around so fast he elbowed me. I staggered back and went through the old stained-glass window and began falling, a whole two stories. Everything moved in slow motion. Shards of prismatic glass surrounding my descent. My eyes focused on the clouds above me which resembled zoo animals. Can you guess what they were?” He knew what Eric's favorite animals were. “A cheetah, and a swordfish. The clouds comforted me as I fell, and I don't really remember much else. Next thing I woke up, I was in the hospital on my way to recovery, eating loads of ice cream just like what I bet your friend is doing right now. Soon he will be good as new.” Eric's fear had receded. He was no longer afraid; he even smiled a little. Sweet. Sadly, this wasn't the end.
A jeep rumbled up to the dining room, it was Richard's.
“Oh no, he is going to flip,” said Steven.
With a slam of a door, Richard was on his way. He had driven around the three camps looking for damage. Of course, Camp Dash was the worst off because of all of these incompetent counselors. He saw the rec room was a disaster held up with duct tape and bravado, the kitchen a complete mess punctuated by some weird aroma - who knew what these degenerates had been smoking - and worst of all the kids were not in their rooms. The kids should always be in their rooms during thunderstorms. He hated rain. He hated teenagers more. He had approached via the dining room, seeing shadows through the windows which were the kids and counselors. They were going to get it. He had thought of retiring but thought what could be the harm. He was regretting it, each year it seemed like the kids got worse and the counselors even more so. You would think out in the woods your main worries would be black bears or raccoons, but no, it's teenagers.
His anger was as vicious as the storm. His talent, and why he was put in a managerial position, was smelling out people's insecurities. The doors he had flown in on lay open, letting in more wind, rain and hail. The kids were huddled by their sleeping bags, with the counselors in front of them, like bison protecting the young from a predator. A forlorn Steve took the lead, as per usual.
“Hey Richard, how are ya doing? We've had some problems here, he, but I think it's under...” he couldn't finish.
“You kids are the most god-damned, despicable, the worst, most irresponsible counselors I have ever Goddamned seen. I don't even know why I even hired you. I've known flies with more use than you all. One job, keep these kids safe and you can't even do that. You have to go and do your 'rebellious, fight the system, whatever you call it' and whatever is in your stoo-pid, fuckin' heads.”
“Hey, don't swear around the kids...” replied a sunken Steve.
“Don't swear around the kids?” mocked Richard, “Don't swear around the kids! Who put you in charge you airhead? Just because you are a caricature of a jock doesn't put you in charge. You got nothin', I'll swear however Goddamn I well please. Forgot that I'm your boss in that noggin of yours? Oh wait, you failed basic math, so logic is probably not your forte.” Richard slinked back. “You're going to a state college for sports, your life isn't worth jack, friend.”
“That's not very nice,” replied Alice.
“That's not very nice.” mimicked the camp chieftain, “When are you gonna think for yourself, huh? Just because he is good lookin' doesn't make him some sorta God. I know all about you, you actually have some intellect buzzing around in that head of yours but you ain't done nuthin' with it in order to follow this meat head. Shows how bright you are. Ever heard of street-smarts? I got plenty. All of you are burn outs.” He turned to Lucy, “This one has a new identity every summer and is now destroying her body with who knows what god-forsaken-substance mixed in with a good dosage of hooch – good life plan you got there. Your purported art career and the wisps of your ambition are dying between a hot-boxed car in a mall parking lot and your burnout job at Urban Outfitters. A general plan between the end of a bong and probably a syringe.” His gaze landed on Chuck, “This one will work for his dad's pool company which will probably only last another couple of years tops. How many loans is he on now? Who can afford pools in this e-con-o-my? Like your dad, your positive attitude is a ruse.” Chucks' grin turned upside down. “Kai here has a disorder; he won't be able to keep up with life's stress. Watch him flunk out of community college and off himself by twenty-six. No wait, twenty-seven. I'm feeling generous.”
Bennett didn't care about many things, he wanted to sleep through the rainstorm and forget about all of this. He did care about his friends though – sure they weren't flawless but who is?
“Shut up, dude, like, honestly, shut up. You have no right to talk,” Bennett spoke up.
“Oh, the quiet one decided to join us now, does he? Just because you don't talk much doesn't mean you are smart, kid. What do you have going for you besides being shy? Being apathetic? Apathy wont' get you through this sum-of-a-bitch of a world,” shoving Bennett back. “Hell, you all's apathy for taking care of these kids almost got one of these rascals killed yesterday. You're all doomed, fucking doomed.” His screaming continued, mimicking the tone of the thunder in the background.
Screaming startled him. He had been screamed at too much for only being nine years old. Screaming always lead to worse things, things he didn't like, things he wish didn't exist in this world. Too much pain. His friend screamed before falling. His mom screamed a lot. Screaming was bad. His dad was a source of screaming. He felt like he was falling. Falling from the tree. He remembered how screaming stopped. His friend stopped screaming when he hit the ground. His mom stopped screaming after they took her away. You must go away to stop screaming. If he could take care of his parents they wouldn't scream. How do you stop falling? He picked up a piece of sharp metal from the debris behind him. He walked towards the mean man. He wanted to make it stop. He must make it stop. I hate falling. The counselors were nice, they didn't mean any harm, these were his friends, they helped him not fall. The man was not his friend, he had to make it stop.
So, he silenced him.
“Oh man, oh man, oh man, what are we going to do?”
Eric had decided to run away. He had flung a piece of old metal at Richard, and it shocked him into silence. It happened like a flash of lightning. Eric burst out into the woods. Bennett stood there; a sob here and there as the rain stopped. A hummingbird emerged and fluttered around a bird feeder.
Hello, is this the Gowan residence?
…bbzzt Yes… is ...bzzt.. Steve?
Yes, Mrs. Gowan.
Your child is completely safe, but I am calling to inform you that one of the other kids had an accident and broke his leg.
… oh my
He will be making a full recovery; however, we understand this is a breach of trust and invite you next week to voice your concerns at our town hall.
Yes, I’m very sorry Mrs. Birch.
…
We let all the kids here down, but we are going to try do our best moving forward.
She took a drag.
…
No. No, we did not condone any of the behavior. You’ve seen me Mrs. Birch. I couldn’t climb a tree to save my life.
Her hands were trembling.
Hi Mr. Anderson?
He could barely keep his tears contained.
You could hear him inhaling through the phone in his anxiety.
Today, well, in the morning, I guess it was more the afternoon, something happened we need to talk about.
Take a breath son.
Yes sir, of course sir, your daughter Margaret is completely ok sir, but it was another kid, sir, he decided to run up, err, I mean climb up the tree.
Yeah! His Mrs. Camby! How are ya today?
…
Good! That’s great to hear.
…
Why am I calling? Oh yes, about that, we had a little accident at the camp today.
…
No. no. Marcus is a-okay! To-ta-lly safe. One of the other youngin’s climbed up the ol’ oak and fell. Mr. Richard said he’d host a ‘town hall’ or something or other to listen to all the parents thoughts, if you want to come through July 17th at the main camp hall we’d love ya have ya.
Hi, am I speaking to Mrs. Rose?
Yes, this is she. How are you Alice?
Hi, Mrs. Rose.
Hello sweetie. Your parents are doing just fine across the street.
Thanks for checking on them Mrs. Rose. Actually, something happened at camp today…
I’m so sorry.
…
He hung up.
His shirt was drenched as the heat encroached on him from all sides.
He looked out.
The kids were crestfallen. Yet somehow managed to settle down.
In the orange dusk, the clouds glowed as if on fire in the distance.
Was Eric okay?
Eric was drenched. The rain had stopped, but the trees were shuffling and drying themselves. The heavy drops covered his cheap clothing in water mixing in with his sweat. He thought he had run for miles, in reality he was a couple trees into the forest, still within hearing range of the camp. He looked up, watched the gray-white clouds stream by. Clouds trying to catch up to the storm, hoping one of them would grant verisimilitude to the dream-like actions he had just performed. He searched his child brain for answers and instead found silence. It had all happened so suddenly; he remembered the loud noise which shattered the barriers he had flung up the day before. He remembered some calmness, as the kind counselor talked, then while he had regained some of his austerity, the mean man stormed in and brought everything crashing down.
Why did he do it?
He remembered his desperate need for silence. Flashbacks of moments in his life where silence was demanded from the world around him. The silence from yesterday when his friend fell. He shuddered.
Why did he do it?
He tried to talk him out of it, but his friend responded like he always did in these situations where he would push the ordinary away, with a smirk. A smirk which somehow inspired confidence. Not only that he could do the object of his desire but so could Eric. His mind found a focus, something he could throw his entire being at and forget about the events that transpired. At that point he knew, he knew why his friend tried to push boundaries, why he tried to climb the tree.
He would do it.
He would climb the Oak.
He heard rustles around him, counselors looking for him. He noticed other kids, in their lodges, in the woods, watching him.
He ran.
He ran back to the Oak, as fast as he could. His torn-up sneakers, letting rainwater in with every mad footstep towards the gnarled tree. The two counselors on the look-out saw him dashing, and at first couldn't process what was happening. Was Eric running towards the camp? This moment of paralysis bought enough time for Eric to make his move. He jumped and grabbed hold of an old branch. Digging his feet as much as he could into the bark and beginning his ascent. Branch by branch, step by step, getting small cuts along the way. He heard his name and looked down. The counselors were yelling after him, “Get down! Please Eric!” He hadn't realized how high he had gotten in such a short amount of time. The distance seemed to grow. Focus. He kept going. Below, just like yesterday, the shrine had been rebuilt. A row of people circumscribing the tree, all looking up at the heavens. Time slowing, each tick of the clock lasting a lifetime. Apprehension for the second that would make or break a life. One of the counselors, the kind one, Bennett, decided to start climbing too. Eric ditched his shoes; his toes gave him more grip as they could get between the ridgelines of the bark. The sun kept on glimmering in and out of the dashing clouds, you could see the birds from up here. Birds singing their post-thunderstorm sonata. The branches were getting slimmer, harder to hold but he could feel he was getting close. He didn't want to look down. He did. He froze. The kids and counselors around the tree were nearly indiscernible and instead blurred into one contiguous line. Sound seemed more muted up here. Then he noticed Bennett, he had caught up. His longer limbs afforded him more speed. With a visage of his friend he continued, climbing and climbing, branch to branch. Passing by old nests forgotten in age, and new ones, the parent birds chirping at him to stay away. Squirrel's treasure troves and small tree frogs, all who called the Oak their home. A giant ecosystem in which he was now a part of; in which he was now on top. Straddling the topmost branch and poking his head out, the wind greeted him with gusto. A breeze stronger than any he had felt before. The lake rippled in the distance, a panel of tumultuous gray. The whipped tops of the clouds chasing the king of all storms. A rich, dark gray cloud towering to inconceivable heights shining in a deep blue-green hue from the violent maelstrom within. Although the cloud was so much higher, he felt as if there was some sort of understanding between them. Two scrapers of the heavens. Did his friend feel this same emotion?
His fingers were numb, and bleeding. He hadn't realized how much the climb had taken out of him. Waves of weakness emanated from his body as his arms and legs felt thinner. Suddenly, a pang. An arm grabbed his ankle which caused a wave of bio-electrical signals to course up his spine and instinctively let go.
He fell.
Slowly, like a graceful leaf careening back and forth.
No fear. Just peace. Tranquility.
Above, the cloud’s auras coming to display, outlining them with an iridescent shine. The tree turning into its recursive fragments. The birds in the distance shattering into shards of their primary colors, like a stained-glass window. Bennett coming into view and metamorphosing into a warm spirit. His heartbeat, the only thing he could hear. With every thump, his soul would sear like a primal wildfire. Every musical rest his heart took was met with a complete, nascent cold. He closed his eyes. He let the wind cradle him.