Chapter Thirty-Seven: Revelation

Blink spent the next few hours lying in a bed in the infirmary, but at best he dozed fitfully. Mostly he rolled over and over, unable to get his brain to quiet down. It just kept regurgitating the same thought over and over, spitting out images of Smurf unconscious in the boat, of the blood pooled around her. He heard her voice in his mind, weakly asking what had happened, why her head hurt.

She had a concussion, probably. Dutchy had said that. But what if it was worse than that? What if it was something really wrong, like brain damage? She could have died...

"Blink?" Dutchy let himself into the tiny infirmary room. He was holding a clipboard.

"Hey."

"So. Um. I just need to ask you a few questions for this...incident report."

Incident report. Like almost killing someone was some minor thing. Blink took a deep breath. "'Kay," he mumbled.

"It just, um...did you see it?"

Blink shook his head no. "I was looking the other way. I heard it, though." He told Dutchy what he remembered, which was everything—he doubted he'd ever be able to forget it. Dutchy jotted down notes and finally said, "Okay, uh, thanks."

"So..." Blink hesitated. "What...do you know if she's..."

"Yeah, yeah. Triage called. Um, yeah. Smurf has a concussion. It's...well, not too bad. The hospital is keeping her for observation for awhile, but Triage says she'll be fine. They'll be back tonight, she'll be staying in the infirmary overnight."

A very slight weight lifted from Blink's shoulders. He almost felt like he could breathe again. "Will she be okay in time for the race?" he asked, hoping Dutchy realized he wasn't asking because he wanted to race her. He asked because he knew how important the race was to Smurf. If she missed it...

"Well," Dutchy said. "Um, the thing is, she...Well, she can't sail for the rest of the summer. She's got stitches, so no water activities," he said.

The weight settled back onto Blink, like something heavy falling onto his chest. He felt like the air was crushed out of him. "Oh," he finally said.

Dutchy hesitated. "It's not your fault," he finally said.

Blink nodded like he understood, but actually he just wanted Dutchy to leave. He knew Dutchy would just keeping telling him that, but he didn't want to hear it. He knew full well whose part it had been.

And now she couldn't sail. Smurf was never going to forgive him.

*

Bumlets snapped his fingers in time to the beat, counting one through eight. David just stared at him. "It's step step turn kick turn kick step pose," he said tiredly. "In five-six-seven-eight..."

David managed to trip over his own foot, then turned the wrong way and walked into Mondie.

Bumlets groaned. "Dave. You're a smart kid. I know you can count to eight."

"Yeah, but not if I move my feet at the same time!"

Bumlets stared at him. David stared back plaintively.

"Okay...from the top," Bumlets finally said.

*

It was almost midnight when Smurf got back from the hospital. She was tired; she had been since the accident. Her head also ached, but the doctors said that was okay—the concussion wasn't bad, she shouldn't have any lasting problems from it, and they'd given her a prescription-strength painkiller. It was almost time for her next dose, which was just as well; it made her sleepy, so she'd take it and go to bed—in the infirmary, at Triage's insistence.

Paint appeared at the infirmary a few minutes after they pulled in, with Smurf's pajamas, toothbrush, and hairbrush in tow. "How you feeling?" she asked.

"Like I got hit by a truck," Smurf answered. She threw herself down on one of the bunks. "This sucks."

Paint cleared her throat. "It really does. Everyone has been worried about you all day. Rotten timing, too."

"No kidding. The race..." she groaned. "And it's my last summer!"

Paint took a deep breath. "Smurf, you, um, have a visitor. Speaking of the race."

"What?"

"When you guys pulled in, I heard on the radio and...well." Paint stood aside and opened the door to the infirmary again. Blink stood outside, with Sneakers right behind him; Paint stepped out and he stepped in. And just stared at her for a long time, and finally shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I'm sorry," he eventually said. "I—I'm sorry. It was an accident. I..."

She scowled a little. "Go away."

"Smurf, please." He sounded a little strangled. "I didn't mean for it to happen! It was really, really an accident."

"I know that." She gritted her teeth. "I do, I just—I can't sail or swim or anything for the rest of the summer, okay, and it sucks, so just go away."

"I will, I just..." He trailed off. "I needed to tell you that. And tha sorry. And, and I know I've been a real jerk to you this summer—"

"This summer?" she interrupted.

"Um, been a real jerk to you," he said quickly, and stared at his feet. Finally, he added, "Is there...I'm not saying you should, but is there any way you could forgive me?"

She shut her eyes. "Nothing springs to mind. Would you just go away?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry," he mumbled as he turned around. She didn't open her eyes until she heard the door shut, then she rolled over and groaned. He had definitely looked sorry, and she even believed it. But it didn't matter. Her summer was ruined, she was never going to get her last shot to beat him in the race, and no matter how sorry he was, that wouldn't change.

*

Blink dragged his feet on the way down to the beach. Even the thought of sailing—and the fact that there was no way he'd lose the race—wasn't enough to cheer him up. Mush slapped his shoulder. "Chin up. This is it, right?"

"Yeah." He shrugged and pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it down on the sand. They walked over to one of the boats to wait, while the other teams got ready and viewers walked up to watch. Triage was there with a first aid kit, but Smurf wasn't. "One sec," he said to Mush, and hurried over to her. "Um...hey, Triage, how's Smurf?"

"She's doing fine." Triage smiled kindly. "She was well enough to come out for the race, actually."

"Then where is she?"

"She didn't want to." Triage shrugged. "I said if she wanted to rest for another few hours, that was fine."

He nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled, and walked back to Mush.

"Ready?" Mush asked, as the counselors in canoes paddled out to mark the edges of the course.

"Yeah."

"You seem kinda down." He raised an eyebrow. "I could kiss you and make it all better...?" Blink shoved him and he stumbled back a few steps, but Blink didn't even crack a smile. "Seriously, I know you got freaked out yesterday, but it's going to be okay. Smurf is fine."

"I know she is! I didn't freak out. I just feel bad...like, what's even the point of racing? We know we're going to win." He glanced over at the other contestants, some of whom he was sure had overheard the comment, but no one looked too offended. It was pretty much a given. "Kind of takes the fun out of it."

"Then why are you bothering?" Mush asked.

Blink started to answer, then stopped and blinked.

*

Smurf really was trying to sleep, but it wasn't easy. She'd been able to hear the sound of the air horn, signaling the beginning of each race. Big kids, middle, little kids. She could even hear some of the shrieking and cheering. It was probably a great time.

The yelling eventually died down, and the first bell rang for the late brunch. Smurf sighed and thought about going...she was a little hungry, and not too exhausted. And she had to ask Medda if she could help out with the show—backstage or something. Since she couldn't swim or sail, there wasn't much else she really wanted to do.

It was going to be a long week.

"Uh...hello?"

Blink's voice rang through the infirmary. She sat up and glanced down at her pajamas, a tank top and shorts to sleep in. Then, as Blink walked into her room, she pulled her sheet up to her shoulders.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." She scowled. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to see how you are."

"Well, I'm fine."

"Good. Cool." He shrugged. "So..."

"Look, if you're going to gloat, would you just get it over with and leave me alone?" she demanded.

"I'm not here to gloat," he said. "I didn't win."

"What? Did you throw the race or something?" She rolled her eyes.

"I didn't race."

Smurf opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again, as she had no idea what to say.

"Don't look so shocked," Blink mumbled. "I mean, maybe I'm kind of mean to you, but you make racing fun. No point without you." He shrugged awkwardly, and she could swear he was blushing.

"Oh."

"Anyway, um, Spot won. I figured you'd want to know."

"Yeah, thanks."

"And I'm sorry," he said.

And she meant it when she said, "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. Just a stupid accident. And, um...it was really kind of nice of you to not, you know...race."

And if she wasn't mistaken, he cracked a tiny smile.

*

Memorizing things had always been one of David's skills. Which was a good thing, because with only a week to get the entire show ready to go, he had only been given 24 hours from the posting of the cast list to learn all of the songs. That time was now up, but thanks to his overachieving memory and having been loaned a copy of the show's cast recording and a portable CD player, David felt like he was doing okay with learning the words.

That was good. He was even able to sing it aloud the way he heard it, mostly, which meant he was almost always hitting the correct notes and not changing keys at random, unlike some of the cast members. But as soon as they moved from singing around the piano or sitting on benches up to the stage...

Bumlets took David aside before the afternoon's choreography rehearsal. "Um, okay...I'm a first-year counselor, so I'm not great at this yet."

"At what, choreographing?"

"No, I'm okay at that. It's, um, reassuring pep talks I kind of fail at. Let's see, Dave, you...well, you have a great voice. But, um..."

David held up a hand. "I can't dance, Bumlets. It's okay. I'm not offended."

"Okay, thank god." Bumlets took a deep breath. "My plan thus far is to choreograph around you as much as possible. So you can stand there and sing and everyone else moves. When there's no way around it, I'll keep it as simple as possible, okay?"

David nodded. "Sounds good to me."

But somehow, he wasn't reassured. Still, they stepped onto the stage and he tried to stand up straight. Counting slowly to sixteen over and over again, Bumlets showed the group the first big number. And true to his word, after his initial entrance, David spend most of the song, in Bumlets's words, "Standing there, looking prissy." Which was a good description of the character—Joseph was, well, kind of prissy. If the musical was a fair representation, David didn't entirely blame the brothers for not liking him.

As he stood there, Mayfly (who was singing the opening song) and Mush got to do some pretty cool dance moves, mimicked by the campers playing the brothers and their wives behind them. And when it got to the section where the coat for which the show was named was brought on, David got to go from standing to walking, and was proud to say that he could, at least, walk in time to the beat. He didn't trip or anything.

He did forget to sing his line as he walked, though. Medda stopped the piano abruptly, and Bumlets rolled his eyes.

David took a deep breath. It was going to be a long week.

*

"Hey, Blink, wait up!"

Blink slowed down on his way out of the theater. He was planning to hike up to his bunk through the center of camp; it would take him right past the tennis courts, and he'd heard from Trixie that now that she couldn't sail or swim, Smurf was playing tennis a lot. He just kind of wanted to see that she was okay—of course he knew she was, as she'd been allowed out of the infirmary, and Triage and Dutchy had both told him it was only a very minor concussion and there would be no complications to it. But still, she'd looked awfully shaken and upset, even that morning. So he wanted to see.

Mayfly jogged up behind him, red highlights gleaming in the sun.

"What's up?" he asked, and began meandering back towards the middle of camp.

"Not much. Just, they're going to announce the dance at dinner tonight. I heard Stage talking about it, how they'll have to make sure the flats are all painted beforehand."

"Cool."

"Anyway, I was thinking, we should totally go together." She gave his arm a friendly punch. "I mean, I heard about your little disaster last session."

He thought back on Smurf and the dance, which had ended up a little disastrous, and then the prank and its aftermath... Yep, disaster. "It kind of was," he agreed.

"That's what I'm saying. Anyway, we get along okay, so why not go as friends?" She grinned.

"Sure," he agreed. After all, it was nice to have some sort of date, and the only girl at camp he'd had a crush on, Sarah, had not only left camp, but had totally rejected him. He definitely didn't want to ask anyone and end up dealing with that again, and he and Mayfly got along fine.

"Cool." She smiled. "See you at dinner!" She waved and turned to hurry off.

He shrugged and kept going towards the tennis courts, which quickly came into view. Sure enough, Smurf was smacking a ball around against Volley, the brown-haired tennis counselor. Blink hesitated, watching, and after a minute Volley motioned Smurf aside so another camper could come take her place. She jogged to the side of the court, picked up a water bottle and put down her tennis racket. He wandered over slowly and she looked up.

"Hey," he said hesitantly.

"Hi," she answered, and took a drink of water.

"Um...how's your head?"

She shrugged. He could see the bandages on the side of her head, right under her hairline. "Okay, I guess. You been to sailing today?"

"Nah. Been in the theater all day."

"Yeah, I'll be there this afternoon. I guess I'm in the chorus and doing some crew stuff."

"Cool." He smiled; it was a little forced, but not unfriendly.

"Um, hey." She picked up her racket and ducked out of the tennis area. "'Do you have a minute?"

"Sure." They began to walk, no longer towards the boys' section of camp, just up the field. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to, uh, clear something up. Um, since it was pretty cool that you...skipped out on the race and all, I just wanted us to be even. So, uh...about that prank this summer. You know, with Daisy."

"Smurf, I'm really sorry—"

"Yeah, I know." She sighed and took another drink of water, then capped the bottle. "I figured you'd want to know. I said a lot of stuff about my grandmother, and..." She took a deep breath. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, all the parts of what I said are true. My grandmother gave me the doll, and she taught me to sail, and she died when I was a kid. But I kind of overstated everything when I told you about it...to make you feel guilty." She hesitated. "Her giving me the doll wasn't a big deal, there wasn't a real sob story or anything."

"Why did you do that?" he asked, shocked. "I felt so bad!"

"That was why! I still had Mrs. Higgins breathing down my neck from the prank on Sarah, there was no way I'd be able to get you back, so..." She shrugged.

He stared at her and she bit her lip. But finally he said, "You think pretty fast on your feet."

"Yeah, I'm a genius."

"Or, as most people would call it, a geek." But he grinned as he said it, then held out a hand.

She stared at it.

"Um, so I was thinking, like, you know how last session at the dance we declared a truce? Maybe we should do that again," he said. "So I don't accidentally almost kill you again or anything."

She blinked, then shifted her water bottle to her other hand and shook his hand quickly. "Yeah, no almost killing me. That sucked."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Well...see you."

She nodded and turned to walk off towards the girls' side of camp, and he headed back to his own bunk, wondering why he wasn't mad he'd spent so much time feeling bad about Daisy.

*

At breakfast Tuesday morning, Mrs. Higgins announced the last dance, which would take place Thursday—two nights away. Before it was done, all the flats for the show had to be painted and dried, which meant getting to work on them quickly. Smurf volunteered; she was hardly an artist, but had the basic ability to paint within the lines, and so she spent most of the day sitting on grass, painting flats right outside the theater, with an ever-changing group of helpers, whoever happened to be around but not in the scene being rehearsed at that moment.

It was in the middle of the afternoon that Blink wandered out. He glanced around at the number of people already working on various flats, shrugged, and picked up a brush and began to fill in black between the grey bars Smurf was painting for the background in Close Every Door To Me, when Joseph was in jail.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." She glanced over at him. "How's it going in there?"

"Pretty well, I guess. We've got the whole opening section down, and I'm starting to kind of get my solo."

"Cool."

"Um...so what've you been up to?"

She gestured down at her outfit, a pair of shorts that had probably been pants at one point, judging by the ragged bottoms and threads hanging down, and a camp t-shirt. Her clothes and her shins were stained with paint. "They got Paint to come down and design the sets, and lucky me, I get to supervise seeing all of these things done by the end of the day."

He glanced around at the flats that had been laid out on the grass. "You seem to be doing a pretty good job. Though it looks like you got almost as much on your shirt as—Hey!" He sputtered as she flicked excess paint from her brush at him and grinned. "We have a truce!"

"Aw, come on. That wasn't mean, it was funny." She dipped her brush again and went back to painting. He grumbled but did the same. "So..." she finally said. "Where did you learn to sail?"

"My mom," Blink said. "Well, and my dad. When I was little we actually lived on a lake, so I just kind of grew up with it. My mom taught me all the knots and stuff, though."

"You don't live on a lake anymore?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "After she died, Dad kind of...I think it made him kind of sad. We moved to New York, but he figured I'd probably like to at least get the lake in the summer, which I do, so here I am."

Smurf blinked. "Your mom died? I mean, you don't need to tell me if you don't want—"

"Yeah, when I was eight." He shrugged. "It was a car crash. I don't really remember it...it's what screwed up my eye, too."

"Huh?"

"My eye got..." He trailed off. "You know, the details are really gross. Anyway, I have a glass eye. And an eyepatch, because I hate the glass eye."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I mean..." She trailed off.

"It's okay. It was half my life ago, so...you know, aside from missing my mom sometimes I've kind of dealt with it."

She nodded. "I guess that's good. I mean, it's really awful that it happened, but it's good that...that you've dealt with it. I guess."

Blink actually chuckled. "Wow, I just made you really uncomfortable, huh?"

"No! No, I, um, I...Yeah, a little."

"Here, let me fix it." He flicked paint at her and grinned. "You're really short. There, back to normal!"

She laughed. "You're surprisingly tolerable when we have a truce on."

"Oh, gosh, thanks. You, too." He paused. "Actually, you really are. Like, why were even fighting to begin with?"

"You're joking, right?"

"What?"

She looked up from her painting and blinked at him. "You really don't remember?"

"No?" he answered, confused. "Was there a real reason? I just assumed we always kind of...you know, didn't get along."

"No, the reason was that you were a jerk."

"Hey, we've got a truce on!"

"I'm not saying it to be mean, I'm saying it because it's what happened," she answered. "We were friends. And then you decided to be a jerk."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, though now that he thought about it, he did kind of remember being friends when she first got to camp. He was actually pretty sure they'd gone sailing together a bunch of times her first summer.

"No, I'm serious. We were friends until the first race," she explained. "And I won, and then Jack and Race and everyone made fun of you for being beat by a girl, and then you decided the way to handle it was to be a jerk to me, so, you know...you suck."

He frowned. Okay, he did kind of remember that.

"And that's how this whole fight started?" he asked.

She nodded. "Well, I wasn't just going to take it, so when you didn't apologize..."

"Right. Okay, well...I'm sorry."

"Hey, no problem."

He glanced up at her and smiled a little bit. Smurf ducked her head, trying not to smile back.

*

"Soooooo," Trixie said, flopping down on her bed and looking over at Smurf. "When I stuck my head out of the theater this afternoon, you and Blink looked awful friendly."

"We have a truce on."

Arrow sat down on her bed, the other side of Smurf's. "Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Calling what?" Smurf asked, irritated.

"What we old-fashioned types would call a crush," Arrow said.

"Ha!" Smurf snapped. "Like I have a crush on Blink."

"Well, you do," Trixie said. "But more importantly, he has a total crush on you." She cackled. "He loooooves you. He totally wants to marry you."

"He does not!"

"No?" Arrow asked. "Then what were you two talking about all afternoon?"

"We didn't talk all afternoon, we talked for, like, not even an hour."

"About?"

"I dunno, just stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Like..." She lay back on her bed and spoke up into the air. "He talked about what happened with his mom and his eye and stuff."

"What happened?" Arrow asked.

"Uh...I guess he lost them both in a car crash," Smurf said. "I mean, I make fun of him and all, but considering that, I guess he's pretty well-adjusted or something."

"You loooooove him," Trixie sang.

"And he's telling you all about his tragic, angsty life because he wants you to kiss him and make it all better," Arrow agreed.

"You two are crazy!" Smurf snapped, and rolled over to bury her face in her pillow...Mostly so that no one could see her blushing. "And Blink doesn't like me," she added into her pillowcase. "And I definitely don't like him."

Which was true. Basically. Pretty much.

*

Wednesday rehearsals were frequently interrupted by costuming. Medda had come up with basic designs, and Triage had a sewing machine, so she would appear and measure a few kids, then disappear; later, she'd show up clutching a hastily stitched together vest or pair of very basic pants. The crowing achievement of the morning was Joseph's coat, which was built on a white trenchcoat. First it had been tie-dyed, then Triage had sewn on numerous multi-colored strips of fabric as fringe. She had assumed it would look cool whenever David did a spin, but it hadn't taken long before Bumlets had put in place a strict "no spinning" rule for David. Much to David's—and everyone else on the stage's—relief.

By that afternoon, the other specialized costumes started appearing. The narrators both had nice dresses, though everyone else's was pretty basic with a few variations depending on character. Mush got a walking stick, Ian had some kind of palm leaves for the Calypso, and Blink received a cowboy hat and matching boots.

As she alternated between helping to put up flats and helping Triage with taking measurements and doing hand-sewing projects, Smurf silently noted that Blink's eyepatch kind of spoiled the cowboy effect. Otherwise, though, he kind of seemed a little too into it. "Howdy, little lady," he said in as deep a voice as he could manage, as he walked past her. Then he added, "Emphasis on the little."

She threw a tape measure at his head and noted, "Your impression of Jack is terrible."

He picked up the tape measure and handed it back to her, then said, "Yeah, I'm gonna see if David will help me with it. 'Cause we know how familiar he and Jack were."

Smurf laughed. "You can actually kind of pull off the hat. If you ever want to be a stripper or join the Village People, you've got your character all ready to go."

He leered. "You want me to do a little strip tease?"

"I do!" Mayfly shouted from across the theater. They both looked up to see her shoot them a quick thumbs up.

Blink coughed and Smurf turned red. "No, I definitely do not."

"Yuh huh," he said, grinning. "Suuuure you don't."

"You suck." But she was giggling, which was kind of weird.

"Okay, everyone! All brothers on stage!" Medda's voice broke through the din of campers chattering, and Blink tipped his hat.

"That's my cue," he said, and practically swaggered up the stage. The girls all settled onto benches to wait for their next cue. Smurf found herself sitting with half-sewn costume in hand, a bench behind two of the other senior girls—Zodiac and Lyr, two of the wives/chorus members.

The music for one of the early numbers started up, and the brothers took their places for the dance. Bumlets yelled directions from in front of the stage, sometimes demonstrating by dancing along.

Zodiac leaned over to Lyr. "They're looking pretty good at that. It's even better with the costumes."

"Yeah, the first act is going really well. Though..." She giggled. "Blink's eyepatch kind of spoils the effect."

"Yeah, I know. What's with it, anyway? I mean, it's kind of ridiculous."

Smurf cleared her throat and leaned forward. "It's kind of none of your business," she snapped "Besides, I think it looks cool," she added. Never mind what she'd thought a few minutes ago.

"Geeze," Zodiac muttered. "Aggressive, much? You must be an Aries."

Smurf rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered.

It wasn't until the song on stage was almost done that she realized she'd been defending Blink. And that Blink probably didn't discuss the eyepatch with most people, since she'd never heard anything about it...it was just one of those things that everyone seemed used to at camp...But he had told her about it.

Which meant...maybe he trusted her or something? Or at least felt okay talking to her. Which did feel kind of good. And now that they were talking, they did get kind of...flirty. Sort of. A little. Was it flirting to joke about him being a stripper?

She tried not to groan out load.

It was definitely flirting, and he'd definitely flirted back. She looked up at the stage, where for some reason he was dancing arm-in-arm with Skittery, and just watched him for a second. Okay, so he was kind of big and blond and dumb...But also kind of sweet. He had withdrawn from the race and had been really worried about her, after all. And she didn't totally hate guys who were too tall for her, since everyone was too tall for her. And, well...she did kind of like blonds. And they both loved sailing and prank wars.

And Trixie and Arrow were right. She totally had a crush on Blink.

"Oh, man," she muttered aloud.

[End Chapter Thirty-Seven.]
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Union and Reunion