Page 16 of The Parent Pick-Up
We make eye contact, and a charged moment marches by before either of us looks away. I slide over, indicating the open seat beside me. Ivy’s jaw clenches, but she doesn’t have much choice. All the other seats are occupied.
She strides down the aisle and perches on the edge of the bench as if she’s afraid to get too close to me.
As the bus lurches to a start, Ivy nearly falls into the aisle. She shoots me a warning glance and cautiously slides closer to the middle.
“I don’t bite.” I keep my voice light and smile, trying to ease the tension, but Ivy ignores me and turns her attention to the lead chaperone standing at the front of the bus.
As soon as Mrs. Hopeton has welcomed everyone and finished going over some ground rules, Ivy digs into her backpack and pulls out her headphones.
I can’t get a word in before Ivy pulls the bulky headphones over her ears and settles back in the seat with her arms crossed, her eyes closed.
Message received.
It’s a long sixty minutes to camp. I try to ignore Ivy, but every time we go around a corner, we are pushed toward each other. Her arm brushes mine, and she jerks away as if I’ve shocked her.
When we finally arrive at camp, Ivy springs off the seat like she’s been shocked by the pleather and rushes off the bus before I can say a word. I follow behind along with the others, circling up in front of the main entrance with the kids and other chaperones.
The kids run wild. They’ve gotten a taste of the great outdoors, and it’s impossible to contain their excitement.
I came here as a kid, and nostalgia nips at my heels as I have the kids line up in front of the tall pines stretching toward the sky. The camp counselors look exactly the same as their predecessors did thirty years ago. They wear the same khaki uniforms and floppy hats with whistles around their necks and clipboards clutched in their hands.
The counselors call out the names of the groups. Ivy and I are placed in the same group with two other chaperones and tenkids. She shoots me a look like I’m a cockroach she wants to stomp on.
I vow to make the best of the situation as we trek into the woods for an adventure hike. The kids run ahead, setting a pace that will surely make them tired halfway to the top of the overlook. I focus on identifying leaves, pointing out woodpecker holes, and keeping everyone from wandering too far off trail.
But I can feel her just a few paces behind me. Not close enough to talk. Not far enough to ignore.
Eventually, we reach a clearing where the kids collapse onto a fallen log for a snack break, pulling trail mix and juice boxes from their little backpacks.
I take a chance and approach Ivy. “How’s Olivia doing?”
She shrugs. “Good. She’s been counting down to this trip since the welcome packet came home.”
A pause stretches between us.
“And how are you?” I ask, not looking at her.
“I’m fine.”
My patience stretches as thin as the barely concealed rage in her voice. “I don’t think you are.”
She brushes past me. “Don’t act like you care.”
I reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her. “Whoa. Hold on a second.”
“Let go of me.” She wrenches free and marches toward the edge of the trail.
Heat rises up the back of my neck, and I hurry to catch up with her. “At least tell me what I did wrong.”
She glares at me, blue eyes shooting icy lasers. “You know what you did.”
My jaw clenches so tightly, I have to force the words out. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”
She steps around me, continuing down the trail and turning left at the fork that leads deeper into the woods. “Just leave me alone. I’d hate to contribute to yourcircus.”
I glare at her back, confusion clouding my mind. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hah!” she tosses the word over her shoulder, hurrying away from me.
