I huffed and crossed my arms. “Only because you are too American. Like genetically modified American or something,” I argued.
“She can’t believe I was a Prom King,” Kyle said.
Russ pulled a face. “Dude, you were?”
“You were?” Whinnie echoed. “Ha ha. You’ve kept that quiet.”
“Yeah, you did. Ha. Can’t say I’m surprised though.” Russ steadied me as I was in the process of falling over. “Amber? You all right? How many beers have you had?”
“Hey!” I straightened myself out and got ready to point again. “I am British. BRITISH! And there’s one thing I’ll have you know about British people. We’re very good at drinking and very good at holding our drink. You don’t have to worry about me.”
And that’s when I fell over the log.
SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:
Creeping into a cabin of squeaky floorboards
+
Drunk
+
A mother waiting up for you
Six
Kyle offered to walk me home.
By “home”, I mean the cabin of doom where my photograph is kept in the guest bedroom.
“Bye, Amber.” Russ slapped my hand in a high-five way – another American thing I needed to catch up with. “It was great meeting you. I hope you feel okay at training tomorrow.”
Training. All day tomorrow. Shite…
I hugged Whinnie goodbye, already feeling like we were the best of friends. “I love your Winnie the Pooh fleece,” I told her honestly.
She beamed back at me. “So lovely to meet you, Amber. I can’t wait to hang out tomorrow.”
“I still don’t see why I can’t take myself home,” I grumbled, as Kyle and I left the fire behind us.
“Just wait until we get into the trees,” he said.
“So? Trees are trees.” I shrugged and stumbled.
But, as we stepped under the canopy, the moonlight was swallowed whole and I couldn’t see a thing.
“Kyle, I don’t like it in here.”
He laughed and put his arm around my shoulder. Not in a creepy way, in a protective-American way.
“LUMOS,” I yelled, pointing my arm into the air. “EXPECTO PATRONUMMMMMM.”
“Umm, you know Harry Potter isn’t real, right?” Kyle said, as I looked disappointedly at the lack of my magical ability.
“Mudblood,” I muttered, and he laughed again.
“Are all British girls as funny as you?” he asked, steering me in what I supposed was the right direction.
“I’m funny?”
I felt him nod in the dark. “You are. The way you pulled faces when Melody asked you all that dumb stuff.”
“I wasn’t pulling faces.” I’d been trying so hard not to anyway. “That’s just what my face is like.”
He laughed again. “See, hilarious! Sometimes people here piss me off so much. Like, how can they not know more than one member of the British Royal Family?”
I thought about it. “To be fair,” I said, “I didn’t even know we had a Prince Andrew until he turned up at our college. Lots of people in England are ignorant too. There’s this one bloke, in my Art class, who said he had a photogenic memory.”
More laughing. “Maybe your cute accent makes you sound more intellectual?”
I stopped in the darkness. “Did you just sexualize an accent?”
Kyle stopped beside me. “Oh, because girls don’t do that?” he asked, and he put on a high squeaky voice. “Oooo, I just lurrrve the Italian accent on men. It’s so sexy.”
“I’ve had too much beer to argue with you right now.”
“That means I’m right.”
“No, that means I’m drunk and tired. It’s like midday tomorrow my time.”
“I still think that means I’m right.”
I smiled, knowing it was too dark for him to see.
It wasn’t just dark actually, it was jet black – like the plug had been pulled on the world. Without Kyle, I would’ve ended up lost and eaten by coyotes. Whatever coyotes are…
“How do you know your way in the dark?” I asked. “I can’t see anything.”
“I told you, I grew up in the middle of nowhere. I’m used to it, that’s all.”
When slivers of moonlight started sneaking their way through the overhead layer of trees, I guessed we were nearly back. I hoped the door wasn’t locked. It wasn’t like Mum would be waiting up for me.
She’d never once waited up for me…
… I dragged my duvet down to the sofa, tucking its edges around me to stop the cold sneaking onto my skin. Dad sat wearily in his chair, his finished newspaper wilting on his armrest, his reading glasses slipping down his face.
“What are you doing down here, poppet?” he asked. “You should be asleep.”
“I want to wait up for Mum too.” I paused and fiddled with a loose thread on my duvet. “Dad, she is coming back, isn’t she?”
All sorts of expressions crossed his face before he replied – expressions children shouldn’t see on their parents’ faces if they can possibly help it.
“Of course she’s coming back,” he said. Even then, aged twelve, I could tell in his voice he wasn’t sure. “She’s just out with friends, that’s all, having fun. Your mum’s allowed to have fun, you know?”
I turned over and used the armrest as a pillow, knocking Dad’s paper to the floor.
“She’s always out with friends,” I grumbled.
The cold air from the front door woke me. Someone had left it open.
Oh, and the shouting. The shouting woke me too.
Kyle and I emerged into the clearing, blinking at the light of the cabin. The kitchen light was still on, so bright it burned into my retinas, making me see fuzzy purple shapes.
“I’m so jealous you’re in a proper cabin,” he whispered, so as not to wake the Bumface lurking inside. “You should see the state of mine. All bunks, a chemical toilet, and in two days it will be full of hyper children.”
I kicked my foot in the dust of the forest floor.
“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to share a house with your boss.”
“That’s a point.”
We stood, awkwardly, both drawing spirals in the dropped pine-needles with our feet. I realized I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t really know anyone here. Not even the woman inside who shared half my DNA. The sadness hit my guts – I was sobering up.
“Thanks for walking me back.” I was suddenly too nervous to look him in the eye. Further proof I was sobering up. “It was very gentlemanly and American of you.”
He shrugged. “Hey, it was nothing. And it was cool meeting you. You’ll get used to camp. And America too, I’m sure. I’ve always wanted to come to England, so I’ll bombard you with questions tomorrow as payback…” He saw the look on my face “… Don’t worry, I know the basics already. There is more to England than London and you don’t all hang out with the Queen.”
I grinned and made myself make eye-contact.
“Only on Sundays. She’s busy the rest of the week – saying ‘one’ a lot and mainlining cucumber sandwiches.”
He laughed so loud I had to “shh” him.
“You all right getting back to the party?” I asked.
“I’m all good. Podunk night vision, remember?”
“I’m so confused by your words.”
He stood a moment more, then softly punched my shoulder, like I’ve seen fraternity brothers do in movies.
“Night, Amber.”
“Night.”
Only when he was fully submerged in the darkness did I let myself smile…
Maybe Americans weren’t so bad after all.
Maybe this summer would be fun.
I carefully nudged the front door open.
Maybe Bumface Kevin will get a tick in his bumchin and have to go to hospital so Mum and I will be left to look after the whole camp together.