Callie's Sister

Chapter 16

“Callie…” I muttered. “Another god damned selfish Callie move.”

Cam stepped toward me. “Maddie, maybe this wasn’t the best thing to do today.”

“I hate her,” I said. “Am I allowed to hate her?” He didn’t answer me.

I turned and started walking to the beach. Cam didn’t follow me. I kept walking. The sand crunched under my feet as I picked up speed and neared the water.

“I HATE HER!” I screamed. It felt good. “I HAAAATE HER!” I started running towards the water, totally out of control. “YOU SUCK, CALLIE!” I screamed at her, all of my rage of the last several months coming out. Before I knew what I was doing, I stripped off my sweatshirt and kicked off my running shoes. Hopping on one foot at time, I pulled off my socks and then wriggled out of my sweats. My t-shirt was next and I stood there in my bra and underwear, not feeling the cold at all.

“Maddie,” Cam cried. “What the hell are you doing?” He started to run toward me and I dove into the water. I braced myself for the shock of cold water. IT WAS COLD!

I was a very strong swimmer; I had learned to swim at this beach. The waves were pretty intense, but I didn’t even think about it. All I wanted to do was swim as far as my arms would take me. Each stroke took me further away from my stupid family and from everything that had happened. My mind emptied and the guilt and anger washed away as the frigid waves splashed over me.

Stroke, stroke, kick, stroke, breathe.

My mind emptied.

Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke.

I could swim forever.

Except I couldn’t. A wicked cramp gripped my side and made it impossible to take another stroke.

Don’t panic. That’s the worst thing you can do.

How could I not panic? I couldn’t see the shore and I was doubled over in pain. A deep breath awarded me a mouth full of salt water. Half I swallowed and half went down the wrong pipe. I coughed to try to clear my lungs. And coughed again, my arms and legs frantically trying to keep me afloat. Crap, Maddie. Picture something calming. What?! Nothing in my life these days was calming. And now I was going to make it even worse by drowning.

How far was I from the shore? Maybe I could float back. I looked up and saw a boat in front of me. Now I was totally hallucinating. I tried to breathe again.

“Maddie, grab the freakin’ oar,” Cam called. I focused on the boat again. Oh thank God. It was Cam in our old rowboat. He held the oar towards me, but it took me a minute to comprehend it all.

“Grab it!” he shouted. I did and he pulled me towards the boat and lifted me into it, where I landed on my hip and scraped my elbow. Ouch.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He glared at me.

A shrug was all I could muster. I pulled myself onto one of the seats and stared back at the shore.

“Do you know how easily you could have died? Do you?” His face was red. “What in the hell would I have told your parents?”

I stared at him. He was right. This trip was one of the few impulsive things I’d done in months, probably in my whole predictable, well-behaved life. And I almost screwed it up by dying. That would have ruined the day, right?

The wind blew and I shuddered. Cam pulled his sweatshirt off and handed it to me. The Cam-sized sweatshirt enveloped me. It was a hug from Cam without the awkwardness of asking my almost-brother for a hug. Boy, I needed a hug. Badly. I craved being held. But there was no way I would ask. Instead I kept my eyes focused on the shore and curled my legs up into the sweatshirt. Cam kept rowing and didn’t stop until he struck ground. I took the sweatshirt off and tossed it back to him, hopping out of the boat and making a beeline for my clothes.

Cam pulled the boat in, dragging it past me on the sand. Fully clothed, I flopped down in the sand and lay back, pulling my sweatshirt hood over my hair and closing my eyes. The breeze blew across my face. I had no idea what to do now. None.

I felt Cam sit next to me. He dragged his fingers through the sand. Go ahead. Scream at me some more. Tell me I’m a moron. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. Maybe I could make this whole day disappear.

“So we’re done with the half-naked tantrum thing, right?” he asked me. I sat up. My turn to play with the sand. If I kept focused on the sand, I wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Maddie, man, when did you get so hot?” he said.

Holy, holy crap. I just swam in my underwear in front of Cam.

Oh. My. God.

Wait, how dare he call me hot?

“Shut up,” I said, flinging sand at him. He threw a glob back at me.

“You had me at full attention there.”

I slammed a giant sand ball into his chest.

“Stop being gross, Cam. That’s like incest or something.” Except deep down in the way back of my heart I was pretty psyched. He thought I was hot! Nobody had ever called me hot. Jamie was hot. Callie was hot. My family called me “Pudge” or “B.F.” for baby fat, which hadn’t been far off. Until my psycho running and biking escape began. Run, bike, do sit-ups and pull-ups often enough and the B.F. started disappearing and maybe, just maybe, I could be called hot.

I peeked up at Cam. He was teasing. Wasn’t he? But he met my eyes and he didn’t look like he was teasing. My whole body got quivery and confused. My fingers swept through the sand again, but I held his gaze. But Jamie…

The whole thing was too much for my stomach. Vomit rose in my throat. I leaped up and ran down the beach, keeling over and tossing munchkins, coffee and salt water all over the sand. Yep, I’m hot.