Playing Hurt - By Holly Schindler Page 0,6
we don’t get too many eighteen- or nineteen-year-olds here at the resort, mostly families with younger kids. But Todd’s obviously hoping for the best.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist and lets out a moan when he sees my poster. “What is that? What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s just an idea,” I say.
Todd shakes his head. “No, no, no—no more ideas. You’re blowing everything.”
“Blowing what? I told you, it’s just an idea.”
“No, no, no,” Todd mumbles, finally swallows. “Look. I can understand you working hard senior year. Making up for lost time, maybe. Okay, sure. But last year—you, me, and Greg, away at school. Didn’t even have to deal with being in a dorm—we had our own place. No parents. The perfect opportunity. And you studied. For God’s sake, who works so hard, freshman year of college? Huh? Do you know?” he asks, turning to Earl.
Earl just tugs on his steel wool beard, trying not to laugh.
“Really—who studies like that?” Todd shouts again, like I’m deaf or something. “You take—gym—you take—James Bond Movies 101—you take—freshman comp. Did you go to a single party all year, Morgan?”
I just stare at him. He knows I didn’t.
“You blew it. The freebie, gimme year. You blew it. And now, at the very beginning of the summer, when everybody takes a little breather, you’ve got three jobs?”
“I don’t have three—”
“Tour guide here at the resort,” Todd interrupts, holding up his index finger. “Working at Pike’s Perch,” he says, holding up his middle finger when referring to my parents’ restaurant. “And now,” he finishes, holding up a ring finger slathered in mayo from his sandwich, “that.” He points at the poster, then shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.
“Maybe you’re spreading yourself a little thin,” Earl adds.
“It’s not like my folks pay me or anything,” I protest. “Working at Pike’s is just kind of like helping around the house. And some extra cash on the side would really help with tuition next year. Not to mention geology textbooks—those things aren’t exactly cheap. Maybe you guys could sign up for my boot camp. Help a guy out.”
“No way,” Todd says, shaking his head. “Huh-uh. I’m not contributing to this working craziness. Working, studying, jeez. And another thing—if your parents don’t stop bragging about your A’s to everybody at Pike’s, I’m gonna kill you. My parents eat in there.”
“What about you?” I ask Earl.
Earl grimaces. “I’d rather get a whoopin’.”
“I’ll get somebody,” I insist, laughing now. “You just watch.”
“Speaking of watches,” Earl says, nodding once at the old wristband I wear. Old-fashioned, I guess, but I've never been into cell phones, which seem to be the only way anybody keeps track of the time anymore. Besides, around here, cells never really work all that great. Shoddy reception at best. “Think you’ve got a hiking tour waitin’ on you,” Earl finishes.
I glance at my wrist, slam my box of stick pins onto the counter. “Bet you both a free dinner at Pike’s I get somebody before the week’s out,” I say as I rush for the door.
“Your folks sure aren’t gonna like you givin’ away their food,” Earl warns.
Todd laughs as he leans against the front counter, waiting, just like he always does, until the very last millisecond before heading out to his fishing tour. Which is just Todd’s style—he’s pretty much last-second about everything. Not that he’s some irresponsible moron; Earl wouldn’t let him get close to one of his launches if he couldn’t trust him. Todd’s just never been in a hurry in his life.
I’d shout some smart-ass stinger back at the two of them, but I’m already too far out the door for either of them to hear me.
Outside smells kind of swampy, earthy. It’s familiar, like I guess it should be; Pop started taking me here to fish and hike when I was barely out of second grade.
A white launch putters across the lake, leaving a trail of ripples behind it. Greg is onboard, entertaining a load of noisy tourists, baiting lines and telling wild stories of fish caught by other vacationers. “God, it was big as a whale!” I think I hear him shout. He’s really worked up today, probably just excited to be back at the resort, his voice carrying across the stillness of the water. He’s really putting on the works, priming his first group of tourists for their own Old Man and the Sea adventure.
Greg and Todd and this resort: my three oldest friends. Their faces fill