I handed the scissors to a little girl called Rayanne, who still couldn’t believe I was from England.
“Here, Rayanne,” I said, copying Kyle’s best Disney voice. “You still need to cut yours out.”
She took the scissors in exchange for a bombardment of questions. “Where is England? Do you live in a castle? Do you eat little sandwiches? Mom says you all eat tiny sandwiches. Do you have a crown? Charlie Brown says you have a crown. Can I wear it?”
Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths.
“Are we all almost done, guys?” I shouted. None of them listened. They were either preoccupied with their colouring, or laughing at Charlie Brown who was running up and down the hall with his T-shirt over his head.
Kyle came bursting through the doors, armed with two giant coolers.
“Hey, guys,” he said, rescuing me. “Who wants juice?” he called.
“JUUUUUUUUUUUUIIIIIICCCCCCCCCCEEEEEE.” And they all abandoned their projects and ran at him to collect their pouches of orange squash. I noticed Kyle carefully cover his crotch and smile. He looked over, saw where my eyes were, smiled, and then went red.
“Gotta protect the boys,” he said, sheepishly.
The boys? Did he mean his bollocks? Oh God, he did. I went deep red. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about his bollocks. Which put me off him a bit. I mean, I’d never seen any, but from what Lottie had told me, I’d not missed much. “You know when obese people lose lots of weight and they have all that excess skin?” she’d told us. “Well imagine all that skin wrapped around two plums that smell slightly of cheese.”
I turned my face so he wouldn’t see my blushes and focused on tidying up the pencil pots.
“All right, guys,” Kyle said in his Disney voice. “Take ten minutes, then we’ll get your necklaces finished. But you’re not to go outside yet, okay? We still haven’t creamed you up.”
The juice was glugged down in ten seconds, then the kids started running about like madmen. I took the brief respite to put my head on the table and close my eyes.
“Where’s your mom?” Kyle sat on the tiny stool next to me. “Isn’t she supposed to be helping you?”
I kept my eyes closed, wanting sleep, needing sleep. Yet it was only 3 p.m.
“She’s having one of her lie-downs,” I answered.
“Huh?”
I reluctantly sat back up again. “She gets these…umm…she needed to lie down, she said.”
Kyle reached into his baggy pockets and pulled out two rescued juice pouches. He offered me one and I took it gratefully.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to be left with the kids by yourself?”
I pierced my straw into the little hole and sucked so hard the juice pouch was empty within three seconds.
“Man that is so good. And, no, I’m not. I’m only seventeen. She said it was only for an hour though…”
Kyle tried to keep his face neutral as he drained his drink. He eyed me curiously over the top of his straw.
“Well,” he said, crumpling up the empty pouch with his hand. “For someone who’s got no experience of working with kids, you’re doing pretty well.”
I looked round the carnage of the hall – the kids running around madly, bouncing and colliding like fireworks. “Are you kidding? They’re behaving like savages.”
He laughed and touched me briefly on the shoulder, making me sit up really straight.
“Not one of them is crying and you’re not in the first-aid tent. That is incredible, believe me. It’s first day of camp! They’re too excited, all you can do is try and keep them alive. Russ is already freaking because one of his almost drowned.”
“What?”
“The kid’s okay. Russ lined them all up on the jetty to teach them The Rules of the Water and this one just got so excited he jumped right in. Even though he couldn’t swim.”
“Jesus. Is he okay? Russ, I mean?”
“Yeah. Sort of. He’s just flipping out that the kid will tell his mom. He doesn’t want to get sued.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Why would Russ get sued?”
And Kyle touched my shoulder again, making each freckle there burst into flames.
“Oh, you innocent British person. I wish I had your naivety.”
I smiled slightly. “Where’s Whinnie?”
“Calming Russ down.”
“Well now I feel like I’ve got off the hook,” I said, gesturing towards all the intact children exploding about the hall.
Kyle furrowed his brow. “Your mom still shouldn’t have left you.”
“Mum shouldn’t have done a lot of things…”
It came out without thinking – my voice was tight and bitter and choked. How the hell was I going to keep them all entertained until she’d decided she was rested enough? Maybe I could sing them Queen songs? That was British?
Kyle pulled his tiny stool in closer, making a screeching sound as it grazed the floor.
“Well, this was my last juice stop. You want me to stay and help out?”
Relief pooled in my stomach. “You sure? You don’t need to be anywhere?”
“I think I need to be here,” he said, just as two children collided head first and started crying.
Half an hour later and they were all wearing beautifully decorated necklaces, singing Freddie Mercury and dancing madly. Kyle and I were at the front of the hall, conducting them ferociously with our arms. Kyle’d made a quick dash to his cabin to pick up his old iPod and speakers.
“Who knew Queen was such a good pacifier for children?” Kyle said, watching them twirl.
I nodded with pride. “I have the younger stepbrother from Hell. I worked this out the hard way.”
He pulled a face. “Ergh, is there any worse word in the world than ‘step-something’?”
“I know.” I nodded again, sadly this time. “It just means – the first attempt failed, doesn’t it?”
Mum walked through the door, sunglasses on her face, and a pashmina draped over her shoulders. I leaned back off the wall and stood up straight. Kyle didn’t.
She took in the music, and the dancing children, came over and rested a hand on my shoulder.
“Amber, what’s going on here?”
I stood up straighter.
“Their name badges are all done. Kyle and I have just got them dancing to get rid of any excess energy.”
She patted me. “You’ve done great, Amber. You know what my migraines are like when they hit. I really needed that lie-down.”
I did know…
The headaches started soon after that day they got back from the hospital. I’d hear crashes in the kitchen at night, the shrill sound of glasses clattering.
Then Mum wouldn’t get out of bed.
First Dad was okay with it.
“It’s okay, Amber,” he’d say. “Your mum is just grieving. Give her some time. We need to be patient.”
“Grieving for what?”
Though I think I knew. They’d told me once I was going to be a big sister. They’d told me once I was going to get to choose its name.
But then they went to hospital and they never talked about it again.
“Just…just…we need to be patient.”
A year later, when it was still happening, at least four days a week, he began to lose it.
He threw back the curtains and light burst into the stinky room, bouncing off the mirrored cupboards. Mum – a cowering lump under the duvet – whimpered from beneath the blankets.
“No, Brian, please. I’ve got a migraine.”
He ignored her, picking up her piles of discarded clothes and hanging them over his arms.
“You’re taking Amber to school,” he instructed, all businesslike. “I need to be in a meeting in half an hour. I told you I needed you to take her in today. Enough is enough, come on.”