Fall With Me

you.”
    “Maybe you should try not telling me what to do, considering you’re asking me for a favor and all.”
    Allison smiles and gives me a sisterly look. “I’m just joking, Jill. Geez. It’s cute how much Simon likes you, actually. So will you do it? Do the trail ride? I was going to take Griff up to the city.” She leans toward me and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “Griff has a trust fund.”
    I try to refrain from rolling my eyes. “That must make him so much more attractive.”
    “Hello, are you blind? He doesn’t need anything to make him more attractive. He’s like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
    I let out a low whistle. “Well, then, that’s quite the honor.”
    She narrows her eyes, as though she can’t decide whether that jab is an insult to her or not.
    “You shouldn’t be jealous.”
    I laugh. “I’m not.”
    “Okay, sure. Well. Thanks for doing the trail ride. We might not be back until tomorrow, too.”
    “I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” I go into my cabin and lie down, trying to stave off the headache I feel building behind my eyes.
     
    The six kids that stick around for the trail ride are five girls, plus Simon. Instead of heading to the beach, I take them inland, over golden grass and through groves of cypress trees. The fog has pulled back and the day is bright, the sound of heat bugs fills the air. The horses kick up dust as they plod along. It is warm without being overly hot, the kids are chatting happily, and I should be enjoying myself but I’m not.
    I can picture Allison zipping up Highway 1 in her sporty little red Honda Del Sol, Griffin in the passenger seat. The fact that this bothers me is bothering, and when Peaches, the palomino mare I’m riding, reaches out to grab a mouthful of leaves from a passing branch, I jab her with my heels harder than I meant and she skitters forward, ears pinned back.
    “Sorry, girl,” I mumble, patting her neck and smoothing down a section of her cream-colored mane. I resolve to put the whole thing out of my mind. When that doesn’t prove possible, I resolve to not let it bother me. Is it that people like Allison always get what they want? Is it that I can see exactly the kind of summer Allison’s going to have, and the reason her summer is going to be so great is because Griffin has shown up, which therefore means my own summer—which I’d been counting on being as predictable as it’s always been—is now completely shot to shit.
    But I shouldn’t let it get to me. I really shouldn’t.
     
    That evening, we cook up the trout Bill and the campers caught that afternoon. I watch as all the campers clamor to sit near Griffin; they’re like a bunch of puppies.
    “You shot a lion in Africa ?” I hear one of them gasp.
    “Wow, that’s so cool!”
    “Was it scary?”
    “What kind of gun did you use?”
              He gamely tries to answer all their questions. I set my fork down.
    “There is nothing even remotely cool about going on a hunting trip like that,” I say. “It’s disgusting.”
    Everyone stops and looks at me.
    “How is it any different from, say, deer hunting?” Allison asks sweetly.
    “There is a huge difference between hunting for sport and hunting because you’re actually going to use what you kill. Hunting for sport like that is ridiculous and pathetic.”
    “I wasn’t actually the one to shoot the lion,” Griffin says. “I was pretty young at the time.”
    “People hunt for all sorts of reasons,” Bill says. He gives me a look. “We shouldn’t put down others just because we don’t happen to agree with everything they do.”
    I’ve only eaten about half the food on my plate—and the trout really is good—but I stand up from the picnic table. “I’m going to get started on the mess in the kitchen,” I say, which mostly no one hears because they’ve all turned their attention back to Griffin. He gives me a curious look as I walk by and it’s all I can do not to dump my plate of food on his head.
    In the kitchen, I busy myself wiping up fish scales and vegetable peelings. The sound of laughter comes in through the open window and I glance out to see Griffin telling some story, gesturing with his hands, everyone is cracking up.
    I’m not exactly sure why I feel this much rage toward him. In a way, Allison does have a good point—it is good for the campers to have a younger male around, someone other than Bill. And clearly, Griffin is able to relate