Golden Week

by Rachel McKimmy-Warf

NOW

The car ride up the winding mountain road was sickening. Mei grimaced out the windshield at the passing pine trees, almost grateful for the car-sickness, as it distracted her at least partially from her memories. A sigh slipped out of her. Her mother glanced over at her, then returned her eyes to the road. “A few summers ago, you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to go back to camp.” “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed since a few summers ago,” Mei muttered, still staring sulkily out the windshield. “Some camping trip won’t fix everything just because you want it to.” Almost instantly, she wished she could take her words back. “Don’t speak to me like that,” her mom said. She drew a deep breath, her dark eyes glossed with a tearful sheen. “I know you’re hurt, Mei. But please, don’t -- don’t take it out on me.” Voice trembling only slightly, Mei’s mom summoned a smile. “All I want is for you to be happy, 梅梅” Mei-mei. Her little plum blossom. “This will be fun.” Mei’s mom sounded as if she were trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince Mei. But neither of them was fooled.

*** THEN

It was Saturday, the Fourth of July weekend. “So you went to this camp when you were little, Mom?” Leaning forward eagerly from the back seat, a twelve-year-old Mei gawked out at the towering sugar pines of the Sierra Nevadas. “That’s right, after my parents graduated from Berkeley together.” Her mom beamed at her. Mei’s dad, sitting in the driver’s seat, smiled and patted his wife’s knee as they pulled into the long drive, up to the camp check-in.

Their cabin could barely be called a cabin; its wooden frame was covered by a canvas, and inside were bunk beds, a set of wooden shelves, and a single bare lightbulb hanging from the rafters crisscrossing the ceiling. After laying her brand-new sleeping bag and duffel on the top bunk furthest from the door, Mei jogged back outside, her flip-flops slapping the worn wooden steps. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the camp. Sunlight filtered through the pine branches to paint bright patterns on the needle-covered dirt. Cabins were scattered among the trees. Further down the hill was the path to the bathrooms, and, beyond that, the rest of the camp. “Mei!” called her dad, popping his head out of the cabin. “Where’re you going?” “Just gonna look around,” she called back. He protested, “You shouldn’t wander off in --” “It’s okay, Mark,” Mei’s mom said from within the cabin. “Mei, go explore. Just take the map with you and meet us at the dining hall when the dinner bell rings.” “Okay!” Mei pulled the map out of her pocket and unfolded it, giving it a quick once-over. The camp was huge -- there was even a lake nearby. “Why’s it okay for her to go off by herself if you say it is, but it doesn’t matter what I say?” “I explored Camp Golden all by myself when I was her age,” her mother replied. “Well, what about what I think?” Mei’s dad repeated, words now holding a tinge of anger that meant his pale skin was as red as his ginger hair. Her mom’s voice held a note of impatience, and even with her back turned Mei knew her mom’s expression, as well -- a false calm belied by tight lines around her mouth and a narrowing of her almond-shaped eyes. “It’s perfectly safe! There are people everywhere, and how is she going to become independent if we don’t--”

Mei sprinted down the path, her parents’ voices fading behind her. Running until she was out of breath, Mei collapsed against the trunk of a pine, gasping the hot, dry air of the mount-

ains. The air was thinner up here; she was out of breath faster than she normally was jogging down the street at home. Still, the rush of blood pumping through her veins, the hard, fast thumping of her heart, and the aching of her leg muscles felt like freedom. Now back near the entrance of the camp, Mei could see the tiny wooden building where they’d checked in, with the “Camp Store” sign hanging on it. Other cars pulled up the long driveway, carrying families away from their real lives for a week of relaxed camping. Or so that was the hope. Mei smoothed out the wrinkles in the map, examining it more closely this time. Up the hill in the opposite direction that she’d come, behind the Camp Store, was a place called “The Lodge.” Behind her -- she must’ve passed them on her run down the hill -- were the “Dining Hall” and “Fire Pit.” A chitter from a nearby tree captured Mei’s attention for a moment. It was a grey squirrel, with a big, fluffy tail, facing upside-down on the trunk of the tree above her. The squirrel was nothing like the fat, brown city squirrels Mei was used to in Sacramento. It skittered away up the tree trunk, around the other side, and out of sight. The lake lay beyond The Lodge. Mei set off in that direction, kicking up dust behind her as she ran.

The lake was a crystalline blue, shimmering with sunlight. Mei panted, squinting out across the too-bright water. Trees grew all the way to the water’s edge in places, while in others the waves lapped at a wide, white stretch of sand. On these strips of beach, people sprawled out in the sun, soaking it in, or eating packed lunches at picnic tables under the shade of the trees. Towering mountains, capped with snow even in the heat of early July, surrounded the lake. A group of hikers dropped their packs on the ground, wiping sweat from their brows and taking deep swigs of water. A cluster of signs nearby pointed toward various hiking trails around the lake. Mei trekked along a trail that followed the shore for a while, skirting a group of giggling younger kids darting across the path. After following the trail for a while, she found a deserted

boulder by the lakeside, crouching in the shadow of a giant tree. Clambering up the boulder’s side, loose pebbles digging into her bare knees, she collapsed on top of it, staring up at the pale, cloudless blue sky through the thatch of branches above her. “Hello,” the tree called, rather shyly. Mei jerked up, palms flat on the boulder on either side of her, peering around. “Who said that?” “Up here,” came the quiet voice again. Perched in one of the thick lower branches of the tree was a boy. His hair was black, like Mei’s, but it wasn’t straight and flat like hers. His poked out every which way from his head in untamed curls like a birds’ nest. His skin was a dark honeyed tan. Knobbly knees stuck out of ratty cargo shorts, his feet were fitted with sandals a size too big, and his gangly frame wore a faded blue T-shirt. He grinned shyly down at her. Staring up at him in surprise, Mei shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sun and asked, “How’d you get up there?” He gave her a bemused look. “Climbed.” Eyes wide, Mei stared at the tree. The trunk was too skinny, the branches too far apart for her to climb. She was instantly impressed. “What’s your name?” “Salim.” She hesitated, then asked, “Why don’t you come down here, Salim?” He considered for a moment, before drawing his bony shoulders up to his ears in a shrug. “Yeah, okay.” Scrambling down from his branch as deftly as the squirrel Mei had seen earlier, he landed on the rocky surface next to her, rolling forward on the balls of his feet with his arms splayed at his sides for balance. Still sitting down, Mei had to crane her neck to look at him, and she felt a sudden rush of shyness. Jumping to her feet, she brushed the pebbles and dirt from her palms onto her jean shorts. “I’m Mei,” she said quickly, offering her hand. “Salim,” he replied, brown eyes wide as if he were surprised to be making a friend. Salim shook her hand, and when she offered him a tentative smile, he returned it with his own crooked-toothed

grin.

*** NOW

Mei collapsed on the bottom bunk furthest from the door, next to her unpacked bag. The cots were thin, narrow, and uncomfortable, more so than she remembered. She wondered where he was now. Salim. Her friend. A twinge in her heart told her she’d probably never see him again. It’d been too long. Four years since she’d last seen him, at the end of that perfect week that marked the happiest time in her life. Before everything had gone wrong. Before her dad cheated on her mom. Before the constant arguing. Before Mei grew quiet and hostile at school and lost all her friends, turning to books instead because they were the only thing that made her feel less alone. Before her family split irreparably apart, rending her heart into two pieces so that she felt her love would never be complete again. Mei’s best friend’s voice intruded on her mind. You didn’t lose all your friends, Drama Queen, Carmen said. If Carmen were here, she’d tell Mei to look on the bright side. Here she was, with a week to do pretty much whatever she wanted -- no homework or grades or chores to worry about. No empty rooms in her house to haunt her, no brittle tension ready to shatter at any moment. Just woods and squirrels, and plenty of fun ways to distract herself from her real life. Mei had the sudden urge to call her best friend and talk about the whole thing, to hear Carmen’s chipper voice. It’d be so much more fun if Carmen were here. Checking her phone, Mei groaned. No cell service. She’d promised to text, but it looked as if that was out of the question now. Although, Mei wondered, thinking of the tall mountains, maybe if I could get high enough to get a good signal... Would that even work? Well, she guessed, it beat sitting around feeling sorry for herself. Mei grabbed a granola bar and an apple, an empty canteen

-- she’d have to fill it at the water faucet near the bathrooms -- and of course, her phone, the key item in this mission. “I’m going on a hike, Mom,” she told her mom, who was napping on the bottom bunk across the aisle. Tired. She always seemed to be, lately. “Okay, have fun, 梅梅 ,” her mom replied groggily. Prompted by a sudden impulse, Mei leaned over and gave her mom a quick peck on the forehead. Her mom’s lips curved upward happily in her half-asleep state. Mei pulled her hair into a short ponytail, put on and tied her boots before slipping off down the dusty path toward the lake. The best hiking trails were over there. And before she did anything else, there was someplace she wanted to visit first.

*** THEN

Plunging her bare feet ankle-deep in the burbling water of the deep stream that ran through the forest, Mei gasped. The shock of the icy water made her feet almost instantly numb. Salim waved at her, standing proudly on top of the thick log that bridged the stream. His cargo shorts were wet from wading into the water, but unlike Mei, he wasn’t shivering. “Come on,” he said, his voice barely carrying above the sound of the stream. Mei couldn’t understand why he spoke so quietly, but maybe that was because she was always so loud. Or so her dad often teased her. “What if I fall in?” she gasped, windmilling her arms as she struggled to balance on the slippery rocks. Each hand held a flip flop.

look. “You’ll get wet,” Salim informed her, giving her a queer

“Yeah, well, I know that,” she replied in annoyance, her heel slipping backward off a rock into the water. Hurriedly, she shifted most of her weight to her other foot while swinging the first one forward to land on the next rock.“What I don’t know,” she admitted, a bit embarrassed, “is how to swim.” “Oh,” Salim said. Apparently, that hadn’t crossed his mind. “Well, I guess I could, you know,” he rushed, then halted. Mei

paused and glanced up at him. His face was flushed red. Or maybe he was just sunburned.“Jump in and save you?” he finished, his voice growing yet more quiet and questioning. Mei avoided his gaze and hopped from the last stepping stone onto the larger, granite slab. Using that, she climbed onto the log next to him, far less gracefully than he’d done earlier. “Why don’t we just cross the stream using the log instead of wading in?” she’d asked when they’d arrived. Salim had pointed at where their side of the log was lodged deep into the high mud bank, and the five-foot deep stream below that. “We can’t climb onto the log on this side. The only way to cross is by making it to that granite rock and getting onto the log from there.” He started walking down the length of the log. She followed him, crawling on her hands and knees and letting out a squeak of fear every time she felt the log teeter a little under their weight.

As soon as Salim was across, he turned and watched her scramble forward and collapse on the opposite bank. “Did I forget to mention I’m also afraid of heights?” she panted. Salim gave her a dubious look. “We were only six feet above the water.” “I’m just being dramatic.” With a sigh, Mei got up and wiped her hands off on her already wet and dirt-streaked shorts. When they’d met at the lake he’d told her that he’d come up here every summer with his parents and four older brothers for the past five years. After skipping stones on the lake for a while, the shade of the tree wasn’t enough to keep the sun off them, and he’d invited her to come to his “secret hideout” with him. Whatever that meant. Mei perhaps should’ve considered the possibility of him being one of those serial killers she’d been warned about, but those warnings had only ever referred not other kids. “Where’s this secret hideout of yours?” “Just a little further.” Salim led her down the bank. Mei slipped on her flip flops, but they did little to shield her cold feet from the pebbles that were determined to gouge into her soles and were soon caked with mud anyway. The vegetation was thicker here than at the camp or even

at the lake. Grass grew out of control, tickling against her legs, and unfriendly brambles scratched at her skin. After a few moments of walking, he halted and turned around. “Here,” he said proudly. Looking around, Mei noticed nothing out of the ordinary. “So?” she asked. Salim’s face turned red again. No, it wasn’t sunburn. For someone so tan, she thought his blush was surprisingly noticeable. “Listen,” he said, and fell quiet. “I don’t hear anything,” she muttered a few seconds later, and he waved her quiet again. “Shh,” he hissed. “Geez, okay.” Straining her ears, Mei tried to pick up some sound, but there was nothing beyond the burble of the stream nearby, birds chattering in the trees, and the buzzing of insects drawn to the water.

“I seriously don’t hear anything,” she announced, and Salim gave a triumphant grin. “See? It’s a special place. No people. Just trees and animals. I picked it last summer for my secret hideout.” “Isn’t it, like, not a secret anymore if you’re showing it to

me?”

Salim gave her a look that reminded Mei of a puppy asking for a treat. “Well... what’s the point of having a secret hideout if... you don’t have someone...” He turned brighter red, and he scuffed at the dirt with his shoe, avoiding eye contact. “...to share the secret with?”

Mei stared at him. It was hard to argue with someone who had such simple, sincere reasons for doing everything, but she was difficult by nature. “I guess.” He scratched his head, his dark hair falling into his brown eyes. As his mouth twisted a little in a way that told her he was disappointed with her answer, Mei felt a small stab of guilt. “I think I see what you mean,” Mei conceded with a sheepish smile, and Salim returned her smile with one of his own. Mei changed the subject. “So, uh, where’s the hideout?

Have you got a fort or something?” Eyes narrowed, Mei stared speculatively at the so-called ‘cave.’ “O-kay,” she enunciated slowly. “Your hideout’s lame, so here’s what we’re going to do.”

They spent every moment of their free time over the next week working on Salim’s secret hideout. After acquiring a rope swing and a hammock -- Mei had no idea where Salim had gotten them, but suspected thievery was somehow involved -- and building a small wooden shelter out of large sticks and rope, the hideout wasn’t exactly awesome, but far less lame. And at some point during that week, it became not just Salim’s hideout, but Mei’s, too. She even stopped being afraid to cross the creek. Even when she wasn’t at the hideout, it was a constant presence in her thoughts, and whenever her parents started arguing about the smallest thing like whose turn it was to do the laundry, she knew that being at the hideout would silence those raised voices -- and it was all thanks to Salim. She gave up other camp activities, from pottery to the pool, to spend time there with Salim, whom she hadn’t seen around camp at all. Not even in the dining hall.

Well, maybe Salim was lying about his family’s camp membership. Maybe he was a wild animal who lived in the forest. He looked the part, she thought, with his ratty clothes and messy hair.

It was the last day at camp. Mei lay in the hammock, long legs kicked up against the trunk of the supporting tree and reading a comic book. Her parents thought she was at a sketching class. A soaking-wet Salim sprawled on top of one of the boulders, drying his clothes off in the sun. He hadn’t bothered to bring along a swimsuit, and Mei had protested his taking off any clothing to go for a swim. So, with a shrug, he’d climbed onto the rope swing and jumped into the water fully clothed. He resurfaced, laughed at her sputtering disbelief, and shook droplets of water from his hair like a dog. Recalling it made her want to laugh and

roll her eyes simultaneously. Mei must’ve let a little giggle escape, because Salim opened his eyes. He didn’t ask her what she was laughing at, only grinned back at her. To her surprise, Mei felt a blush rising in her freckled cheeks. She lifted the paperback to hide her face behind it. “I should teach you how to swim,” Salim announced suddenly, standing atop of the boulder. “What? Why?” She was embarrassed, being twelve and not knowing how. She’d never liked the water. “Because everyone should know how to swim.” Mei sniffed and shuffled through the pages in her comic, trying to find her place. She should have brought a bookmark. Hearing his footsteps in the sand approaching her, Mei paid him no attention. At last finding her place, she was startled by the aspen leaf he thrust in front of her face. “All-natural bookmark,” he said, dropping it between the pages of the comic. Mei craned her neck to squint at him. If she were standing, she’d be taller than him. (She liked being taller than people. Especially Salim, for some reason.) Shaking her head to clear it, she answered his unspoken insistence: “You can’t teach me to swim in a day, anyway,” she reasoned. “My family’s leaving tomorrow morning. And, I don’t want to.”

He didn’t turn and stomp away as she expected him to. “Fine, I won’t teach you to swim,” he said, without even an edge to his voice. “I just thought you might like to know how, is all.” Mei was slightly annoyed she had not been able to get a rise out of him. Finally, she set her comic aside and climbed out of the hammock, stretching her limbs. “Are you coming back to camp next year?” Salim asked, still hovering nearby. “Are you coming back to camp next year?” Salim asked, still hovering nearby. “I don’t know, maybe. Why?” Hands on his hips, Salim surveyed her. His hair and clothing were still dripping, his curls a soggy mess on top of

his head. “Even though you’re a know-it-all and you think I’m weird, I like having you around.” Then he flashed that smile at her -- and for the first time, Mei felt a fluttering inside her chest. “Um,” she articulated, tongue-tied and blushing. She leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re adorable,” Mei told him honestly, and it was his turn to blush. “I’ll see you next summer,” she promised hurriedly, and, grabbing up her backpack and comic, without bothering to put the comic inside, she rushed off, leaving him standing there, gaping after her. She couldn’t keep the goofy grin off her face her entire journey back to her cabin. That was the last time she saw Salim.

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