Samurai Summer (7 page)

“Go ahead and become one then,” I said.

“On a farm?” He lowered his head and looked at me. “I’ll be lucky if I get to drive a tractor.”

“That’s pretty good,” I said.

“A tractor isn’t an airplane.”

Don’t be so sure about that
, I thought, and I remembered my dream again.

“I may not even get to drive the tractor,” said Janne in a low voice. “Besides, maybe they don’t even have one.”

Now we heard a different kind of rumbling as a few of the troop entered the glade with more branches.

“I don’t want to leave the castle,” said Janne. He looked me in the eye again. “I mean after the summer.”

“No,” I said. “Who does?”

“But they’re gonna force us.” He waved his hand, this time toward the camp.

“Matron. The counselors.”

I didn’t answer.

“If they didn’t exist…” said Janne and fell silent.

I waited.

“If there weren’t a camp at all then we could stay on here. As long as we wanted.”

I still said nothing. I thought about him and how it would be for him to arrive at the strangers’ farm for the first time. At least I had a mother.

“Right?” he continued. “If it didn’t exist?”

“But it does,” I said and nodded. “It’s over there behind the trees.”

You couldn’t see it from here, but you didn’t have to go more than a few hundred yards through the forest before you could make out the closest building.

“But what if…” he said.

What if there were no “if?”
I thought. Maybe you could take away the “if.” If there were no camp. If it didn’t exist at all… There is no camp. It doesn’t exist at all.

I looked around. The entire troop was assembled. Everyone was working on the castle. Everyone looked strong.

We could do it.

It was Janne who had said it, but I had probably just been waiting for someone to say what was already in my head, inside my brain.

If there were no camp, then we could stay on here. As long as we wanted. If there were no grown-ups telling us what to do anymore.

I
t was morning again. The sun rose on good and evil alike. This morning, the evil had cooked up something new. Anyone who didn’t eat everything on their plate would get it back the next time they sat down at the table. No one would get a fresh helping until they’d eaten the old one. There had been cold oatmeal and blue milk in my dish. When it was taken back to the kitchen, the oatmeal was even colder and the milk bluer still. I hadn’t even lifted the spoon.

“You know what’s coming, Tommy,” said the counselor when she went off with the dish.

I didn’t answer. The oatmeal wouldn’t taste any better or worse in the morning or in the evening. The milk would probably go sour, but I actually preferred sour milk. But I wouldn’t eat that either. I was never going to eat it. It was like the start of a new battle. I looked around the mess hall but
differently than I had before. I seemed to be seeing everything through new eyes. I had become someone else—someone who was even more unlike the boy who had once been Tommy.

The sun burned our eyes. We stood lined up on the grounds in two columns. We were going to march around the lake to the big swimming area on the other side. They called it a swimming trip, but I called it a swimming trek. The counselors kept a close eye on us from both sides. When the smaller kids got tired we had to carry them.

We marched. The lake glittered to the right through the trees. The ground smelled good. The smell of the forest was my favorite smell. With it filling my nostrils, I felt like a free warrior. Well, not right then, of course, walking in line but otherwise.

All of a sudden, I tripped on a root, fell, and slammed into the ground.

A few choice words flew out of my mouth.

Someone giggled behind me. I quickly jumped up and turned around.

“What did you do that for?” It was Kerstin.

“Do what?”

“Throw yourself to the ground?”

I saw that she was just kidding around so I started walking
again. She took two quick steps and started walking next to me.

“Why do you swear so much?” she asked.

“I don’t swear much.”

“Really?”

“I used to do it a lot more.”

“Wow. You must have had a really foul mouth.”

“It’s not always bad to swear,” I said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Sometimes there are no other words you can use.”

“Thou shalt not swear,” said Kerstin. “It says so in the Bible.”

“Mm-hm.”

“One of the Ten Commandments.”

“Thou shalt not force children to eat pig swill,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“That’s worse,” I said. “Worse than swearing.”

“I mean, is that a commandment too?”

She smiled. When the sun hit her eyes they got lighter. They turned a different color—green almost.

“You bet. One of the most important ones.”

“Do you know any more?”

“Thou shalt not steal a kid’s bag of Twist,” I said.

“I don’t get it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does,” she said. “I can hear that it does.”

Before long we had marched around half the lake. In a while we’d be able to see the big swimming area. The rays from the sun transformed the water into silver, and I could see a sailboat out on the lake. The sail was as white as our sheets the night before the moms and dads came to visit.

“What, did somebody steal a bag of Twist from you?” asked Kerstin. “You had a whole bag of Twist?”

I didn’t answer.

“It sucks if you can’t say it,” she said.

“Now who’s got a foul mouth?”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, my mom brought me a bag of Twist and they took it.”

“They? Who’s ‘they’?”

“The grown-ups.”

“Are you sure about that?”

One of the counselors appeared alongside us. She had probably been eavesdropping from behind and wanted to hear more.

“You’re moving too slowly,” she said. “The line isn’t staying together.” I looked up and saw that we’d fallen fifteen feet behind those ahead of us. I picked up the pace and so did Kerstin. Her stride was bigger than mine. Her legs were longer.

“Did they really steal it?” she asked. “Would they really do something so awful?”

“It’s gone,” I answered. “I didn’t get one single piece.”

“Maybe it’s been forgotten somewhere,” she said.

“A forgotten bag of Twist? You believe that?”

“No.” She smiled again.

“Shouldn’t that be one of the Ten Commandments?” I continued. “Thou shalt not steal a kid’s bag of Twist.”

“That’s included in the other one,” she said. “Thou shalt not steal.”

“It should have its own commandment.”

“Have you asked them?”

“I’ve even looked for it,” I answered and told her the story.

“Weren’t you scared?” asked Kerstin after I’d finished telling her.

She looked scared herself as though Matron had suddenly appeared and was standing there panting right next to us.

We were approaching the swimming area. I could hear children shouting all across the wide bay as they swam.

The jetties extended far out into the water. I could see the ends of them sticking out beyond the rocks that we were going to round in a minute. It might have been a nice place to swim, but I had never been able look at it like a real beach where you went to have fun. I was never going to come here once I could decide for myself. There were many
places I had no intention of ever going back to.

“Weren’t you scared?” asked Kerstin again.

“Of course I was scared.”

“She didn’t try to hit you?”

“No. Lucky for her.”

I didn’t want to saying anything about how Matron had tried to twist my ear off. I was ashamed of it. I thought about how I had to make sure I didn’t touch my ear. Then Kerstin might notice that it was still swollen.

I looked at her but she wasn’t looking at my ear. She seemed to be gazing out across the lake toward the camp, as though she could see Matron standing on the steps.

“She’s creepy.”

“Worse than that,” I said.

“Next time you do something, maybe you’ll get sent home.”

“There’s nobody at home,” I said.

“Why not?”

“My mom’s away.”

“To some other camp then?”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who wants me,” I said.

“LISTEN UP!” shouted one of the counselors.

There was a light breeze blowing at the end of the dock. I could see that there was a little wind in the sail of the boat
that was still drifting around aimlessly in the middle of the lake. It seemed that it was looking for a way out but couldn’t find one because the lake was too big. The boat was stuck there for good.

“What were you talking to her about?” asked Sausage.

He was sitting next to me. When he was only wearing swimming trunks he really looked like a sausage. A breakfast sausage, thicker than a hot dog.

“What did she want?”

“Nothing.”

“I saw you talking to her. You sure talked a long time for it to be nothing.”

“She just happened to be walking next to me.”

“We said no girls.”

“We did?”

“You’re the one who said it, Kenny.”

“That all depends on what you mean.”

“Well, what do you mean then?”

“Nothing,” I said because I didn’t want to talk about it. “Wanna dive in?”

We dove in. The water was clearer here than over by the camp. I could see my fingers in front of me. They were green. Green like Kerstin’s eyes. I thought of her again. It was Sausage’s fault. I could see his legs wiggling in front of me like two small, stubby cocktail sausages. I stayed below the
surface until it felt like my head was going to explode. And yet, it wasn’t that I thought I couldn’t breathe. It was that, for a moment, I felt I wanted to stay down there.

I gasped for air when I came up.

“I thought you’d drowned,” said Sausage.

“A new record.”

Sausage climbed up the ladder.

“I think it’s snack time,” he said.

The snack consisted of cinnamon buns and diluted fruit concentrate. Everybody got some except me.

“You didn’t finish your oatmeal, Tommy,” said the counselor.

“Where is it?” I asked.

They hadn’t brought it along. If they had, I would have eaten it up just to show them.

I went and sat behind the big rock.

The sailboat was still out there, but the wind had died down. The sail hung limply like a bed sheet.

“Here.”

I looked up. Kerstin held out a paper cup.

“Then there won’t be any for you,” I said.

“I took a second cup,” she said.

“So drink it then.”

“You don’t have to play tough. Not in front of me.”

“I’m not thirsty,” I said.

“You will be. We’ve got to walk back too.”

She held the cup even closer to me. I took it and drank. The fruit concentrate was weak, but it didn’t matter.

“You can have half of my bun if you want,” she said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat any breakfast.”

“You call that breakfast?” I asked.

She sat down. I moved over slightly. She held her hand over her eyes and gazed out at the lake.

“That boat’s not moving,” she said.

“There’s no wind.”

“What’s your favorite breakfast?” she asked.

“Rice.”

“Rice? You mean boiled rice?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what you usually have for breakfast?”

“No. Not here.”

“At home then? Do you usually eat boiled rice at home?”

“Uh… no.”

“But it’s still your favorite breakfast?”

“It’s a samurai breakfast,” I said.

“Doesn’t sound very good.”

“That’s not the point.”

She didn’t answer. She seemed to be thinking about what I had said, but I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t see her eyes.
You have to see someone’s eyes to know what they’re thinking.

“My favorite is ham and eggs,” she said without lowering her hand from her eyes. She was still gazing out at the sailboat. “And jam on toast.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that,” I said. “Do you get that when you’re home?”

“On Sundays.” She lowered her hand and looked at me. “Sometimes.”

“Maybe you can put in an order with the cook for Sunday,” I said and got up and walked back to the others.

My head felt strange. I turned around. Kerstin was still sitting by the rock. Maybe she was keeping an eye on the sailboat. While I had been sitting there, I’d thought about how you can go just as far in a sailboat as you can in an airplane—even with that boat, if you could get it out of the lake. Anywhere in the world. That boat might be able to sail from this puny little puddle all the way to Japan. The sail had caught some wind now—wind that might have blown in all the way from the sea. The boat looked like it was about to take to the air.

“Hi there, Romeo!”

I turned around again.

“Aren’t you going to take your girl back with you, Romeo? Are you just going to leave her all alone by the rock?”

It was Weine.

“What’s her name?”

“None of your business.”

“Maybe I should go ask her myself.”

Weine had two other guys with him. They stood behind him and snickered whenever he said anything. I didn’t understand why.

“Go ahead,” I heard from behind me. Seemed like everyone was talking behind me today. I turned around. It was Kerstin.

“Go ahead and ask me then,” she said and looked straight at Weine.

Weine’s face looked dumber than usual.

“Forgotten how to speak?” asked Kerstin.

You could see the wheels turning inside Weine’s skull. I was a spectator watching from the sidelines, even though I was standing right between them.

“Aw, what the hell,” said Weine, and he started walking back toward the beach.

His gang looked at him for a moment before following him.

Kerstin stood next to me.

“Guess he didn’t want to know my name after all.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t say that about people.” She looked at me. “There are real idiots you know. People who can’t help it.”

“Sure, there’s one right over there,” I said, and I nodded
toward Weine who was walking quickly across the narrow strip of sand. The other two stumbled after him.