Summer on the Short Bus (24 page)

“Not now!” I say.

Shirking my counselor responsibilities, I bolt through the mess hall and out the front doors like my ass is on fire. There is no way she's going to take him down for anything that happened last night!

Ignoring my screaming hamstrings, I sprint across the small field that separates the two buildings, and come to a screeching halt just feet from Rainbow's office.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter, my already labored breath catching in my throat. What is he doing here?

With one hand on my side holding back an impending cramp, I slowly make my way toward the sleek silver sedan that's resting beside the beater camp truck. The country club parking sticker on the windshield, and the ever-present Starbucks cup in the center console are confirmation that my dad is in fact on-site, and not in Spain where he is supposed to be.

I should be terrified by my discovery, but I'm too worried about Quinn to care. I stomp across the front porch and fling the office door open. Rainbow is the first person I see. She's sitting behind her desk with an intense look on her face that slowly fades to confusion when she sees me.

“Cricket . . . what are you doing here?” she asks, standing up slowly while keeping her hands firmly planted on the desk in front of her.

I ignore her question and turn to Quinn, who's sitting in the sad excuse for a guest chair to my left. “Are you okay?” I ask.

He nods, though the quick shift of his eyes tells a different story.
I look over my right shoulder and find my dad standing in the corner of the room. To some, his face would be unreadable. But to me, it's crystal clear.

“Why are you here?” I ask cautiously, aware that the last time I saw him look this pissed was the day before he sent me here. “I thought you had to stay in Spain.”

“I got back a few hours ago. Rainbow had me summoned the minute we touched down at O'Hare.”

“Oh,” I say, hoping that some of his anger may stem from jet lag. The tension in the room is so thick it's hard to breathe. “Well . . . uh . . . why did she call you?” I say.

He continues to hold my gaze with the same intensity that has made him one of the Midwest's most successful businessmen, before his expression softens. Just a smidge.

“We need to talk.” He unfolds his arms from his chest, and motions to the empty folding chair beside him. “And you don't need to be here.”

Heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I go sit down without comment as Quinn takes the not-so-subtle cue. His solemn expression leaves me with no indication as to what's been going on. He leaves without a word.

“We need discuss what went on here last night,” Rainbow says, the second the door closes.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Cricket.” My dad sounds exhausted as he makes his
way to the other side of the room, dropping into the chair Quinn just vacated. “Breaking and entering is a serious offense. Just confirm what your friend has been telling us so we can move on and get you home.”

Not too long ago I would have traded my left arm to hear those words come from his mouth, but now they leave me feeling nauseous. There's no way I'm leaving—not now. I swallow back the sour taste welling in the back of my throat and say, “What exactly did Quinn tell you?”

He leans forward in the chair, dropping that same Exxon receipt I held last night on Rainbow's desk, before resting his forearms on his knees.
Shit! I
never put it back in the drawer. “He said he was trying to help you track down some information you were looking for, and thought that Rainbow's private office was a logical place to start. He said you had absolutely no idea what he was up to, and all responsibility should be placed on him. Is that true?”

I nearly lose my breath, as a dangerous combination of heartache and gratitude threatens to take over.

“
Well?
” he says, his patience running dangerously thin.

The old Cricket would have answered yes without batting an eyelash. When it comes to the art of parental BSing, I am the master. And my poor father is virtually incapable of distinguishing a lie from the truth when it comes to me. But as his question bounces around in my head and the parting image of Quinn is still fresh in my mind, I can't even imagine lying.

“No. It's not.”

“What do you mean?” he says sharply. “Which part isn't true?”

I have to swallow hard again before I can answer. “It's true that Quinn was in here because I was looking for something. But he wasn't alone.” I see my dad's jaw tighten as he braces for the words he knows I'm about to say. “I was here, too.”

“Oh, for God's sake, Cricket—”

“What exactly were you looking for?” Rainbow asks.

I know I should answer her, but I can't speak. And forget about knowing where to look—my dad is like a volcano ready to erupt and Rainbow has this vacant expression on her face.

“Dammit, Constance,” Dad says in a tone I've never heard before. “Answer her!”

“I . . .”

“What?” Rainbow prods. “What is it?”

Clueless as to how to broach the subject, I pull the photo I stole the night before from my back pocket, and with a shaky hand lay it down on the desk in front of her, right next to the receipt. “I know you've been talking to Carolyn,” I say, hedging all my bets on one bold assumption.

Her jaw nearly drops and her already pale complexion manages to fade a few more shades. Assumption confirmed. “Oh dear,” she mutters.

“What is she talking about?” Dad says, interrupting Rainbow's reality check. “What about you and Carolyn?” His question hangs
in the air like a foul odor, when the image of his young wife finally catches his eye. He stares at it for a moment before snatching it from her desk. “Where did you get this?” He faces me, raising the photo in the air.

“From a drawer in Rainbow's office,” I say nervously, shifting my attention back and forth between the two of them. “That's why we broke in. You knew things about me, personal things, and I wanted to know why . . . and who was telling you.”

Rainbow nods her head. “Of course you did,” she says. “Of course you'd want to know. You have every right to.”

“Wait a minute,” Dad says. “Carolyn's been feeding you information about Cricket? Why the hell would she do that?”

“Because Connie asked her to,” she says, unaffected by his obvious contempt for her. “She knew you would never do it, so before she passed she asked Carolyn to keep me up-to-date on Cricket. It was something she did in private—you never knew.”

“That's ridiculous! Carolyn's worked for me for twenty years. She'd never betray me like that.”

“It's not a betrayal to her, Burt. She was honoring Connie's wishes—”

“Stop!” It's my turn to play catch up. I turn to face Dad. “Why wouldn't you have stayed in touch with her if that's something Mom wanted?”

He doesn't answer me. He just stares at me with a cold, distant look in his eye.

“Because your father and I don't get along very well,” Rainbow answers for him in a somber voice. “He thinks running a successful company is more important than spending time with your wife and child.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” he says. “Are we really going to start up this nonsense again? Connie moved on with her life and you couldn't accept that. It's the same story it was twenty years ago.”

“Your mom was an incredible woman,” Rainbow says to me, completely ignoring Dad's bold accusations. “She was my best friend and one of the smartest, funniest people I've ever known. I'll admit it was hard to watch her run off and get married only six months after meeting your dad, but it wasn't because I couldn't accept it.” She glares at my dad. “It was because over the course of their marriage your mother changed—her enthusiasm for life just fizzled out.”

“This is nonsense—”

“No, Burt
, it's not,” Rainbow cuts him off. “What you may not know, or may not want to face, is that Connie felt desperately alone before she died. Yes, she had this beautiful little girl”—she motions to me—“and all the things that money could buy, but you weren't there. And you”—she turns back to me—“you have every right to be angry with me, but I want you to understand that being part of your life, if only through pictures and e-mails, has been the best gift that your mother could have given me. When you stepped out of the car that first day . . . my God”—she bites her lip, failing to hide
her emotions—“it was like looking at my freshman roommate for the first time again. I just wanted to take you in my arms and squeeze you—but I knew I couldn't, because you didn't know me. And as much as I wanted to tell you, part of the arrangement with you being here was that I not say I had any connection to you or your mom.”

“Then why would you even send me here?” I say, looking to my dad for an answer. He just looks at me—his jaw still clinched like a vice. “Dad?”

“Your mom added a rider to her will just before she passed,” Rainbow says, since my father is apparently incapable of speech. “Not only did she leave a percentage of her personal inheritance from your grandparents' estate to the camp, but she also specified that she wanted you to spend a summer working here some time before you turned eighteen.” She glances in his direction. “Considering she'll be eighteen in a few weeks, I'd say you held out as long as you could.”

“Wait a minute.” I stand up, even more confused than I was a minute ago. “You were going to send me here anyway? This had nothing to do with the country club thing?”

“Actually, no,” he says. His voice is so cold it gives me chills. “I hadn't planned on sending you here at all. But you were spiraling out of control at home, and I didn't know what else to do with you. Sending you to Hawaii with your best friend didn't seem like the best solution to your unacceptable behavior. Not that it's improved
much since you've been here.” He turns back to Rainbow with a disgusted look on his face. “Obviously your assurance that she'd be surrounded by responsible young adults this summer wasn't accurate. She went from smoking oregano to breaking and entering. What kind of delinquents do you have on staff here?”

“Quinn is not a delinquent!” I say, leaping out of my seat. “Don't you dare call him that! The only reason he even got involved with this is because he cares about me and knew how upset I was. Quinn is amazing and smart and funny and the most honest person I've ever met—and I love him!”

He blows out a heavy sigh. “Are we really going to get wrapped up in a teenage love affair now? Just because some boy you've known a couple of weeks is willing to take the heat for you, doesn't mean you're in love.”

My eyes begin to burn, and that painful ache is back in my throat. I want to take a deep breath, but I can't. From the corner of my eye, I see Rainbow's hands balled up into fists, and then it hits me. That's why she acted the way she did when she saw me with Quinn.

“Oh my God,” I turn to her. “You were afraid I was going to do exactly what my mom did, weren't you? That night at dinner, when you saw us together for the first time. You thought I was getting too invested in a guy—in Quinn.”

She holds my gaze for a moment before her eyes fall to the desk. “I suppose I'm a little protective of you, even though I have
no right,” she says. “It was wrong of me to pass my own anxieties on to you, and I'm sorry for that. You're right about Quinn. He's a bright kid with a good head on his shoulders, who obviously cares a great deal for you.”

“He won't be punished for this, will he?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not.”

I feel the tiniest bit of relief, like maybe the whole world is not about to come crashing down, until my dad says, “Go pack your stuff.”

“What?”

“I said get your stuff. I'm taking you home.”

“No, I can't go home. Battle of the bands is in two days! We've been working our asses off. Everyone needs me to be here!”

“Please, Burt,” Rainbow adds in a surprisingly calm voice. “The kids have been working so hard on this. They'd be devastated if she wasn't here until the end.”

“It's not going to happen,” he says with a voice devoid of any emotion. “I went against my better judgment allowing her to come up here this summer, trusting this place would provide a good environment for her to see what life was really about. Clearly that didn't happen.”

“Dad, please! Don't make me leave. You don't understand. I
have
changed. I'm so much different than I was when I got here. I've made friends with the other counselors. And the kids . . . these kids are really cool—”

“Constance
. The decision has been made. Go get your things and meet me in the car.”

I can actually feel my heart breaking inside my chest. Like a million tiny daggers ripping through me at the same time. “You're such an asshole!” I try to scream, but my voice is raw and tired and comes out more like a puppy's yelp. “Don't you get it? You're not punishing me because I broke into her office; you're doing it because you were a lousy husband and father and you can't own up to it!”