Cascadia's Fault

Antisocial Butterfly

People were groaning and crying and cursing as they slid their way free of the other bodies around them, checking for bumps and bruises and scrapes. The driver worked his way down the aisle with a first aid kit in his hands. She knew she'd be sore later, but it wasn't anything some Tylenol and a hot shower wouldn't cure.

It took a while for everything to settle down, for the driver to check in with the camp and his bosses, but 20 minutes after the ride in a blender, they were back on the road.

Caz did not expect Johnny to come back and flop onto the bench, but flop he did.

Scrubbing at her neck and accepting the unavoidable, she asked, "Is your sister okay?"

Obviously still uncomfortable himself, he pushed both hands through his hair, "Yeah, Jem's tough. She got tossed around some, but for all her smiles, she may be the baddest a*s I know."

Caz huffed a laugh, "High praise, for sure."

"And she'd probably kick mine if she heard it." Johnny rested his head on the back of the seat, slanting Caz a look, "You and CJ okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure he even noticed."

"Do quakes like that happen a lot?"

"Little ones like that, sure. I think everyone is still waiting for the big one. The quake in Japan freaked everyone out; we had their debris floating up to our shores for months. Not from around here?"

"Moved here from Isla Mujeres, and I've never been so cold in my life."

"I bet."

They sat in silence as the bus rumbled further down the highway and closer to the camp. Johnny broke the silence, asking, "So, the real question I've been wanting to know is how did you get your hair so green?"

Caz snorted, "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Would you believe me if I told you it's all natural?"

It was Johnny's turn to snort.

Caz slouched further in the seat, wedging her knees up, and shrugged.

Johnny peered over the seat at CJ noting his perfectly straight, spiky, inky black hair, then turned back to her, "Still no."

"True story. I'm sure there's probably a MySpace or whatever kind of social media existed when I was born out there with my baby pictures still up on it showing curly green hair."

"Uh huh," skepticism practically oozed from his pores, "I'm wondering why you didn't go blue to match your eyes? You've got a great stylist."

Taking a deep breath and willing the tension headache to back off, she said, "I do. And colored contacts are easy enough to order with my prescription."

She didn't wear a prescription.

"I like it."

"Okay."

"And you couldn't care less."

"You seem like a nice enough guy, but no, couldn't care less."

Conversations quieted as the bus turned off onto the gravel road. The bumps and ruts were worse than the tremor had been. Dark blue with seething white foam meeting gloomy sky loomed closer and closer before the road veered off again with nothing but trees on either side so dense nothing was visible in the verdant shadows. Rich, spiny ferns spilled through the trunks leaving no sign of earth or sea. The noise inside the bus, which had waged war with the noise from the bus, quieted as everyone concentrated not only on staying in their seats, but to watch for what was coming.

Caz braced herself, waiting, scanning, gut twisting. More new people. More poking, prodding, expectations. Johnny hadn't been so bad, she thought, but what about everyone else? And there, just up there ahead, the road widened, cleared. The cabins were what anyone might have expected: long wooden dormitories with plaques above the doors. She could hear the ocean crashing on one side, the forest blocking them in on the other.

Please let there be running water.



She glanced over at Johnny then back at CJ, who for once had put his book down and was paying attention to something besides who he would kill off in his next game. Both boys were gripping the seats in front of them, leaning in like they could make the bus go just a little bit faster, like they couldn't get there soon enough and let the fun begin.