Fall With Me

look at it. I squint and wish I had my Ray-Bans.
    “I’m Allison,” the girl says. “Are you and Jill . . .?” She lets the sentence trail off.
    “I know Jill,” I say, though I refrain from adding whether it’s biblically or not. I have a feeling Jill wouldn’t appreciate that one too much.
    “My parents own this place.”
    I glance down at her. “Your parents own the beach?”
    “Well . . . sort of. They own the ranch. I’m a counselor here. But you aren’t one of our campers.”
    I feel as though I look like the shit someone just scraped off the bottom of their shoe, but from the way Allison is smiling at me, my outward appearance must not reflect that. Or, she’s really hard up, but she’s a cutie, so I doubt that’s the case.
    “You didn’t tell me your name,” she says, tilting her head and giving me a coy look.
    “Griffin.”
    “Are you going to be around for a while?”
    “Uh—”
    “Because I wouldn’t mind seeing more of you. You should stay. You can be my guest. My parents won’t mind at all.”
    It makes my face feel like it’s about to crack, but I give her my most winning smile. “Sweetheart, that’s the first good news I’ve heard in a while.”
     

Chapter 8: Jill
     
    After Karen and I herd the fifteen bleary-eyed teenagers back down the footpath to the ranch for breakfast, I double back to go find Griffin. He can eat something and then be on his way, wherever that might be.
    But he’s not there when I return. I look down the beach, but there are only some gulls, and, in the very far distance, a person walking a dog. The waves slide up the beach and back, and I wonder if Griffin disappeared just like how he had arrived.
    I break down my tent and check the area for any debris that the campers might not have picked up before they had left and only find one empty beer can and a lollypop wrapper. They’re a decent bunch of kids, I think, as I carry my stuff back to the ranch.
    I’m heading over to the barn, debating whether or not to mention anything to Bill and Lorrie about Griffin. A small part of me wonders about him, but if he’s truly gone, then what’s the point in bringing him up? Oh, guess what, last night some guy washed ashore and I let him sleep in my tent and then when I went back this morning he was gone. Uh-huh.
    But then I hear Bill calling my name. He’s standing on the porch of their house, a little Craftsman bungalow, built atop a gently sloping hill that overlooks the barn.
    “Jill!” he says, waving. “Can I steal you for a moment?”
    “Sure,” I call back. I dump my gear and turn and walk toward the house. He waits for me on the porch, and as I approach, I try to read his expression. He seems as affable as always.
    “Sounds like last night was a success,” he says. “Everyone seems happy. Let’s go into my office for a minute.”
    We walk inside and down a short hallway to his office. And there, sitting on the faded blue couch, is Allison. Next to her is Griffin. He looks a little more put together than he did last night, though that isn’t saying much. His hair is messy and black and flecked with sand. He’s got probably a week-old beard going. But underneath all that dark hair you can see he’s got this perfectly square cut jaw and his eyes are large and bright blue, framed by those thick black lashes.
    Bill goes and sits behind his desk, leans back in the chair. “Allison came to me with an interesting proposition this morning, but I thought we should talk to you about it. It seems her friend—Griffin, is it?”
    Griffin nods. “Yes, sir.”
    “Bill, please. None of this ‘sir’ business. Griffin is interested in joining our team for the summer.”
    “One of Allison’s friends,” I say slowly. I can see Allison out of the corner of my eye, arms crossed, foot tapping. I can practically feel her glare boring a hole into my side. “Actually, I don’t think that would be the best—”
    “It would be good if there’s another guy around,” Allison cut in. “Especially since Brandon’s not here this year. It would be good for the guy campers.” She gives me a level stare and in that moment there is nothing more I’d rather do than reach over and slap her across the face.
    “I do have some outdoor experience,” Griffin says. “I actually used to go to a camp like this myself, when I was younger. In the Catskills. I’d love the opportunity to have some new outdoor experiences. This seems like a great