Water and Ghosts

Chapter 8

We stay in the meadow all day, except for a short break we use to walk back to our campsite for lunch and to grab my mother’s plant book. She used so many plants with her experiments, it’s no wonder she has a bigger book on them than Glenden does.

His eyes widened when he saw it. “She only had an interest in plants, not an obsession, right?” He had asked. And then we made our way back to the meadow.

If there is anything that I learned today, it’s that Glenden is secretly good at drawing. Even better than my mom. 

I feed him information and he writes it all down. I spend hours walking through the flowers to find the ones that he takes notes about. This flower garden has them all.

In the end, I grab a couple of the last three flowers that he needs and make a bouquet, bringing them to Glenden. He smiles at me, and it’s the most sincere smile I’ve ever seen on him. Not mocking, not overly-friendly, but sincere and genuine.

A nice smile.

I sit down and lay back, closing my eyes and folding my hands over my stomach. I lie like that for a long time, listening.

The wind moves slowly, rustling the grass and the flowers.

Glenden’s pencil scratches against the paper as he sketches the flowers. 

His eraser expunges the words he doesn’t want or the lines that are not good enough, making a light rubbing sound.

Birds chirp in the distance.

My chest rises and falls with my breath, and for a while I focus on my heart. Constricting… releasing. Constricting… releasing. Over and over again, calming me.

“Alright,” Glenden says, his voice piercing through the naturalness of the moment. My eyes snap open to look at him, but I am distracted instantly.

The sky.

The sun started to set while you eyes were closed, and now the sky is hardly even blue. It’s pink.

Orange and pink collide in a bright display of colors on the horizon, with the mountains below. The color lessens in its intensity the higher you look, but it is still magnificent. Purple clouds all over the place, light blue on top of the pink and orange, deepening to the night sky that will soon overtake all of it.

It’s stunning.

I hear a camera click, I turn to see Glenden point it quickly at the sky. He takes another photo.

“You are going to print those and give them to me,” I demand. There is no way I am not putting those in frames.

He smiles and looks back at me. “Of course.” He stares into my eyes for a moment, and I stare back.

Time stops.

My breathing. Stops.

Glenden blinks, shaking his head and looking away and saying, “I’m done. Are you ready to head back?”

I nod and stand up, blushing. I brush the grass off of me before stepping next to him. I palm my mother’s plant book, and we start walking.

“Do you want to find fireflies tonight, too?” He asks me.

I frown slightly, trying to hide it. I need to find that Cactone flower, though I guess making Glenden tire himself out means he’ll fall asleep faster.

So my response is, “sure. Why do you need fireflies, again?”

He looks self conscious. “A personal project.”

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to look at me. When he does, he rolls his eyes.

“You’re not going to let me get away without me telling you, are you?”

“Nope.”

He barks a laugh at my honesty. “Fine, then. I’m going to catch some of the fireflies and put them in a jar and draw them. I was required by my coach to join a club, and I joined photography.” He looks over at me quickly. “Which is something no one knows.”

Aw. I feel so special. I smile at Glenden reassuringly, promising, “I don’t plan to share this information.”

He looks grateful. “Good. Anyway, our assignment right now is combining ‘nature’ with ‘light’, so I thought…”

“Fireflies,” I finish for him, and smile. “That’s really cool. And nobody else is going to be able to do it, since they’re not on this trip, right?”

“Exactly,” Glenden says happily, swinging his arm back and then forward, taking my hand in the same moment. His hands and warm and calloused, his grip firm. I’m surprised, but I don’t pull away. We swing our arms in the middle as we walk back.

“What do you think is for dinner?” Glenden asks casually.

“Hot dogs. I saw the packages.” The perks of being observant. “Oh, and we get s’mores afterwards.”

“And then fireflies.”

Deciding to play dumb, I give him a wired look. “I’m pretty sure we’re not eating fireflies.”

Glenden busts up laughing, and I follow suit. We hurry back to the campsite, seeing the bonfire already going long before we reach anyone. Before anyone notices, Glenden lets go of my hand and pulls away.

“Mr. Flemming, Miss Evans,” Ms Flores calls. She has the packages of hotdogs beside her, and metal sticks for roasting them. She beckons us over.

She gives me a hotdog and stick first, and then one to Glenden. “Don’t burn them,” she says, winking at us before turning to the person that came up behind us. Quickly, we make our way over to an empty log.

I stick my hotdog into the middle of the fire, and then bring it out again. I do it again and again.

Glenden watches me with raised eyebrows. “Have you ever gone camping before?” His voice is dubious.

I smile at him “wrong question. Have I ever been camping? No. But have I ever roasted marshmallows or hotdogs over a fire? Too many times to count.”

Both of my parents loved the outdoors. My dad made stuff from wood and other things all the time. My mother loved plants. There were multiple times, when I was really young, that we wouldn’t be allowed inside the house for a full day. We could use the bathroom, but I wasn’t allowed to have my toys or anything. I could have books and pencils and paper, but that was it. We would hangout outside all day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were served over a fire. We slept in sleeping bags on the bare ground. I was always in the middle, with my parents on either side.

I have never felt that safe and protected, that calm.

After Mom died, Dad kept it up. At least twice a month, we would have a O2 night. O times two: Outdoors Only. 2 people breathing fresh Oxygen. O2. 

I always thought the name was funny and just… fit.

Glenden studies me, keeping his hotdog towards the top of flickering orange flames. “You have some good memories with it?” He asks.

I nod.

He nods back and turns his attention back to his food as I do mine. Naturally, my hotdog is done faster and unburned.

“Don’t question the master,” I murmur as I walk past him to grab a bun. He merely rolls his eyes.

I eat two hotdogs and three s’mores, not burning any of them. Glenden took this as a personal offense, since he deeply wanted me to be proven wrong.

“You’re head, on this matter, needs to be made smaller,” he told me gravely. At that, I almost did burn my marshmallow since I started laughing so hard.

Once we were done, it was full dark. Most people went to bed early, but Glenden led me slightly away from the camp after explaining to Ms. Flores what we were doing. She, of course, had no problem with it.

We sit in the grass, looking around. I stare at the trunk of a tree when I see a flash of light.

I gasp quietly, my eyes darting all over the place.

There! Another.

And then there. And then all over the place as we are surrounded by the bugs. I hold my arms up and smile.

The camera from earlier snaps. I turn to see Glenden lowering it. He holds up a hand as I open my mouth to protest.

“Nope. No saying anything. I’m doing my thing.” He grins, probably because he knows it bothers me. 

I debate fighting back, but then I just shrug. What do I care?

I turn back to the fireflies and I forget about Glenden. Other than the occasional camera shutter, he’s silent. He hands me a jar without speaking, and I take it gratefully. Then, I move forward and catch five fireflies.

The lid, which I pop on and off, has a bunch of tiny holes stabbed through it. The bugs shouldn’t die in the jar.

“Do you have enough pictures?” I ask Glenden, yawning and cursing myself. I need to be not-tired.

“Almost,” he says. “You can release the fireflies in there now.” He turns around and holds the tiny camera up to his eyes. Turing back to my own task, I unscrew the lid and watch as the fireflies fly away. The camera clicks away to my right, but I don’t look at Glenden.

“Now I’m good,” Glenden says, looking very satisfied. He tilts his head to the side. “Let’s head back.”

I follow obediently. The fire dies out and we make our way to our tents.

“Thank you, Aqua,” Glenden says.

“You’re welcome,” I smile tiredly. Then I climb inside my tent and zip up the front. 

Now— how to sneak back out without waking up the whole forest.

Quickly, I change into my hiking boots and my jacket, stuffing my Magic Compass in one pocket and a flashlight in the other. I listen to the sound of the waves in the background and the cricket chirps for about five minutes before I move forward, slow as a snail.

I unzip my tent so slowly, it’s actually painful.

It takes ten minutes, but eventually I break free. I smile to the darkness.

Time to hunt for one flower we did not find.