UNEDITED
Calla Henrik's family runs the best ATV business in town, and she's ready to take over the family business for the summer while her parents go on a much-needed vacation. She's ready to earn some money before she attends the University of A...
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Maddox
"Why the hell are you scratching your balls?" Vance calls from across the campfire.
I quickly remove my hand from my inner thigh, where I was scratching at a mosquito bite. For the past week, Calla and I have been driving up to Duo Via Lake so she can continue to teach me how to swim. I've gotten a little better, but I'm still shrouded by panic whenever the water goes past my shoulders. Thankfully, Calla has been patient with me. And, while the lake is free of leeches, the area is not free of mosquitos; my shoulders and legs are covered in bites. One even managed to buzz up my swim shorts while we were drying off and bite my inner thigh. I glance down at the area where my hand was.
Huh.
I guess it did kind of look like I was scratching my balls.
"I wasn't scratching my balls," I frown.
Vance cocks an eyebrow at me.
I raise mine. "Do you need me to take off my shorts and show you the mosquito bite on my thigh?"
He contemplates his options for a moment before he shakes his head. "Nah, man, I'm good. I believe you."
I turn back to the campfire and stoke the damp ashes with the toe of my boot. The remaining embers snap and pop in response, sending sparks up into the air. It's cooler today; the skies are overcast with dark grey clouds and the wind is callous, making the trees and vegetation sway with it. I dump another cup of water over the embers, listening to them hiss and sputter. We've got a riding session in about half an hour, so I need to make sure this fire is out completely before we leave.
If we ever leave, that is. People have started to show up and I'm beginning to wonder if Vance and I will be leading the session.
I steal a glance over my shoulder to the trailer behind me. I heard the rumble of Calla's dirt bike just after eight this morning. Her trailer door slammed and, when I looked up from my textbook, I saw Calla pulling on her helmet, oblivious to her surroundings.
She's still gone. I assume she's at the top of Blue Grouse Mountain so she can make a call to her sister or Laurel. But there's also that part of me that worries she wiped out and is now buried beneath her dirt bike, sinking in the mud that coats nearly every trail after the rainstorm last night. I haven't ridden any of the trails today, but I've come up here enough to know when the trails get muddy and how bad they can be. A couple of years ago, in April, someone came up here during run-off season. He wiped out in the mud and ended up getting stuck beneath his dirt bike with no way to pry himself free. He died of hypothermia.
It's highly impossible that someone with Calla's skill level could be stuck in that type of situation, but you never know. I wish she would have asked me to tag along with her. If it was for a phone call, I would have given her all the time in the world and enough space to make it private.
