Chapter 26: Finn

The scene unfolds in front of me. There's Eric and Sean standing side by side, both looking a little worse for the wear after their late night. Standing a few feet away is Clancey, holding a smoking BB gun in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, his expression more triumphant than surprised. Less than ten feet away from the gun currently dangling at his side is one of the stray camp cats. It isn't moving.


And then all I can see is the color red.


"Finn," Clancey says, they way he'd greet an old friend. "What are you doing out here?"


There's so much fury inside of me that I can barely contain it; I can feel my fists trembling, my molars grinding until my jaw aches. "I was going for a run. That was, until I heard you torturing animals."


"The cat?" Clancey laughs, a cheerful dismissal. "It'll be fine. And so will you, if you leave us alone."


He doesn't even care. He goes around shooting animals, and he doesn't even care. "You're a fucking monster."


Clancey shrugs, dropping his cigarette and grinding it out with the heel of his shoe. "I've heard that before." He turns back to his friends and asks, "Should I shoot him now?"


"Make him run first," Eric suggests. "That's more fun."


Before I can even respond, I hear the BB gun fire again. Something stings my arm, almost like a hornet or a wasp, and then my skin erupts in pain. A lot of pain. Like, a lot. When I look down at my arm, I can see the red welt already starting to swell up. 


Eric and Sean cackle loudly while Clancey brings the muzzle of the BB gun up to his face and blows the smoke away like an old-fashioned cowboy. "You still wanna fight us, Fish? Or have I changed your mind?"


"You'll never get away with this!"


"If not for you meddling kids," Clancey finishes mockingly. "Turn around, Fish. Turn around and start walking and don't look back. This doesn't have to involve you. Not if you know what's good for you."


I wouldn't be at this camp if I knew what was good for me, I think. Then, loudly, I say, "Just leave the cat alone, okay? I'll go if you just promise to leave the cat alone."


"And ruin all our fun? I don't think so." Clancey cocks the BB gun and aims it at my forehead. "You'll go because I say so, Fish. You'll go, because if you don't, I'll put the next pellet through your eye."


I glance over at the fallen tree to check if Becca decided to stick around, but there's no sign she was ever even there in the first place.


Smart. At least Becca knows when to run.


I redirect my gaze to Clancey and his gun. "You wouldn't," I say. I'm starting to freak out a little on the inside, but somehow, my voice remains steady. 


"How much do you want to bet?"


"Fine. You wanna blind me? Go ahead. You'll get kicked out of camp once I tell the counselors it was you, but it's totally worth it, right?"


"I'll take my chances."


I stare at him. He stares back. We stand like that for good, long moment; silent, the world stretching itself thin between the end of his BB gun and my wide eyes.


Until the silence is broken by Becca's voice ringing out behind us.


"Let's get this over with quickly. Finn, step aside. Clancey— hand me the BB gun."


When I spin around, she's stepping neatly over the fallen tree, having apparently appeared out of thin air. Her blue-brown eyes are narrowed slightly and her mouth is threaded into a thin line, but she looks more serious than angry. I can't tell if she's consciously restraining herself, or if she really has such little interest in the situation; if, to her, breaking up a fight between Clancey and me is just another boring camp activity.


"Becca," Clancey says. He looks far more baffled by her appearance than mine, and a little apprehensive, too. "What are you doing here?"


She strides over to my side. "I'm with Finn."


"Seriously? He's your choice of company?"


"A better choice than most."


I'm expecting Clancey to look angry or offended by this, but all he does is smile. There's a gap between his front teeth that I hadn't noticied before. "More target practice, then."


"Actually, I think you're done practicing for the day." Becca sticks her hand out. "Give me the BB gun. I won't ask again."


"Ooh, I'm scared now."


"I'm not joking. Give me the gun or I'll take it from you myself."


"This piece cost me twenty bucks. I had to save up for an entire summer to buy it. What makes you think that I'm just going to give it to you?"


Becca shrugs. "Because otherwise I'll just do this."


And she walks over and takes the gun out of his hand.


I don't know how it happened. I couldn't try to explain it if I tried. It all happened so fast that I don't think any of us were expecting it— Clancey included. Somehow, in one moment, Clancey was still pointing the gun at my head, and the next moment Becca was holding it instead. There wasn't a fight. There wasn't a struggle. She just walked up and took the gun, as if she could already see Clancey's reaction and knew exactly how to sidestep it.


"Don't worry; you'll get it back," Becca says. Clancey's shocked expression turns hopeful— until Becca swings the BB gun like a baseball bat, shattering the plastic casing against a tree.


Becca drops the broken pieces on the ground and kicks them back towards their owner. "Just not in one piece."


The ensuing silence is louder than anything I've ever heard. Clancey looks too livid to speak; Eric and Sean too surprised. Becca just stands there, smiling and patient, waiting for the three boys to get their voices back.


Clancey is the first one to break the silence. "Fuck you," he says. He doesn't shout, but the raw anger in his voice is powerful enough to make me flinch. "That cost me twenty dollars, bitch."


"Really? That's the best insult you can think of?" Becca feigns a yawn. "You'd think that all that silence would have given you some time to think of a proper comeback."


"I'll— I'll kill you."


"You can try, but I doubt that you'll get very far."


"Are you threatening me?" Clancey blusters.


"A threat implies that I am not going to make good on what I just said. So no, I am not threatening you. I am telling you, in advance, that you are going to be incredibly sorry if you ever try to hurt me, or Finn, again."


I feel myself stand up a little straighter after she says this; because I've got to say, it feels pretty damn cool to have someone as badass as Becca Fisher on my side.


Becca lifts her face up to the treetops. "Looks like rain."


As if on cue, there's a rumble of thunder in the distance.


Clancey sways like he's about to take a step forward, but then he thinks better of it and stays where he is. "You have some nerve talking to me like that, Fisher."


"Maybe. Maybe not." Becca smiles thinly. "Do you even know why I was sent to this summer camp?"


He snarls wordlessly.


"I've put men bigger than you in the hospital, Clancey Cleavon. Having to fight you... well, that would just be a downgrade. Have you ever considered that maybe you're the one that needs to watch their words?"


Clancey opens his mouth and then shuts it, looking like a fish gasping for air.


"Let's get straight to the point," Becca continues. "I know what happened to Clare. And if you don't walk away right now and leave us and the cat alone, I'll make sure that the entire camp knows what happened too. Catch my drift?"


"What— you— how?"


"You're not a very quick learner, are you? I know everything about you, Lee. I know what you see when you close your eyes at night. I know what you see in your dreams. All of your secrets are just another punchline to me; so you better leave before you become more of a joke."


I didn't think it was possible to strike Clancey speechless, but there he is, mouth agape, eyes bulging, and totally at a loss. Wordlessly, he jerks his chin at Eric and Sean, signaling their departure.


Eric goes without a fight, but Sean still looks puzzled. "Who's Clare?" he asks.


Quick as a viper, Clancey grabs Sean by the collar and slams him up against a tree. "If you ever ask me that again," he snarls viciously, "I'll kill you. Understand?"


Sean's head bobs up and down frantically. "Yes. Yes!"


"Good." Clancey releases Sean's collar and shoves him away, then stalks furiously off into the woods.


The two boys give him a lengthy head-start before daring to follow after. If Sean wasn't such a dick, I'd almost feel bad for him— he still looks more than a little terrified, like a kid that just got ripped a new one by their parents.


Once all three boys are out of earshot, I let myself summarize my feelings in three, eloquently chosen words: "Holy fucking shit."


Becca nods. "Holy fucking shit is right."


"I can't believe him. I really, really can't believe him. Who the hell thinks it's okay to hurt animals like that? What kind of monster—" 


I stop mid-sentence, too angry to continue. Becca watches silently as I crouch down next to the injured cat.  


It's still laying motionlessly on the ground but when I place a finger under its nostrils I can feel its breath— soft and shaky, but there— on my skin. "It's just stunned," I announce, and Becca closes her eyes in relief. 


I lean in closer to get a better look at its injuries. As far as I can tell, the pellet hit the cat on the rib-cage, but thanks to its thick fur coat the impact didn't cut very deep. I wipe away some of the blood with the corner of my t-shirt. The pellet must have bounced off on impact, because there doesn't seem to be anything lodged in the wound.


"Hey there, buddy." I run my fingers up and down the nape of the cat's neck, trying to coax it awake. "You doing okay? I know of some people back at camp who can fix you up real good if you need." Slowly, its eyes begin to open.


"I think it likes you," Becca says. Sure enough, the cat is starting to purr. "I'm going to take a wild guess and assume it doesn't need medical attention."


"She," I correct. I ruffle the silky fur around its ears. "I think she's going to be just fine."


As if in agreement, the cat rubs its teeth against my wrist. I smile down at it. I've never had the pleasure of owning a pet cat, but sometimes I look after my neighbor's when they're on vacation. "What shall we name you, little one? You've been so brave today; you deserve a good name."


Becca peers over my shoulder at the cat, her face softening. "How about Gertrude?" 


I make a face. "Gross. What is this, the 1800s?"


"Gertrude is the patron saint of cats and dogs, you ass. My grandmother used to have a cat named after her."


"Fine. Gertrude it is."


I give the newly named cat a pat on the back. She curves her neck around to lick the blood off her cut, honey-brown eyes blinking slowly.


"Pretty animal," Becca remarks.


"I know. It's a shame she has such a dusty old-lady name...."


"Gertrude is a beautiful name. Don't be blasphemous."


I turn my attention back to the cat. I'm reluctant to part with my new friend, but Becca is right— we need to get moving before our unwanted company decides to return for round two. "Move along, Gertrude. Go catch some Alaskan mice."


I give the cat one last pat before rising to my feet and shooing her on her way. She licks the tip of my sneaker, stretches out her legs, and then frisks away into the trees without a backwards glance. I watch her go wistfully. I wish I could bring Gertrude back to Beckarof cabin with me, but I don't think Ronan would appreciate taking in another stray.


Becca nudges me with her elbow. "You really have a way with animals, Finn. Have you ever thought about being a vet?"


"I guess. Honestly, I try to think about my future as little as possible. Being a vet would be fun but I don't think I have the patience. I'm not even that good with animals— I just luck out by meeting all the friendly ones."


She nudges me again, harder this time. "Maybe they're the ones lucking out by meeting you."


"Easy with the compliments there, Fisher. Since when did you act so nice to me?"


"You want me to go back to being mean? 'Cause I'm pretty good at being mean—"


"Joking, joking!" I flash her a grin so that she knows I really am just kidding around. I'm glad that Becca and I are chill now, and I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin this tentative friendship. "I'll think about it. Being a vet, that is."


"Yeah, whatever. You ready to go?"


"I was born ready. My middle name is ready."


Becca just rolls her eyes at me. "Your middle name is moron."


"Ouch. You really are good at being mean."


We jog back to the path together. Our pace is far more subdued than our frenzied sprint from earlier, but I find running alongside Becca just as enjoyable as I do racing against her. It's fun to chat with her, too. She's decent company when she's not trying to be a pain in the ass.


"Did you mean what you said earlier?" I ask. "About how you'd make Clancey sorry for what he said?"


"Of course. I never go back on my promises, Finn."


There's something about her tone that tells me she's dead-serious. "Well, if you ever think of a plan to get exact justice against that asshole, I'm all in. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."


"Of course. Friends who run together get revenge together, right?"


"Oh, so now we're friends? I'm finally fast enough to make the cut?"


"Fuck off," Becca replies, but she's grinning now, too. There's something oddly affectionate about her grin that makes me feel touched.


"Enemy of my enemy is my friend, am I right?"


"Makes sense. How's your arm?"


I look down at the fresh welt. It's getting redder by the minute. "It's okay. Probably."


Becca raises an eyebrow at me, but she doesn't push the subject. 


When we finally reach the main trail, I decide to ask Becca the question that's been bugging me before we both go our separate directions. "Who is Clare, anyways?"


I'm half-expecting Becca to go off like Clancey did, but all she does is sigh, like the question takes a toll out of her. "She's just some girl. Nobody you need to worry about."


"If she's such a nobody, then why did Clancey care so much about her?"


"Cared," Becca corrects. "Clare is dead."


"What? How?"


"Clancey killed her in a hit-and-run when he was sixteen."


"Jesus Christ," I say. I'm too taken aback to think of anything else. That's certainly not a sentence you expect to hear everyday— and especially in such an unaffected tone. 


"He got away with it, too. Nobody ever found out that he was the one responsible for her death."


"If nobody ever found out, then how do you know?"


Becca hesitates a moment before replying. "Guess I'm just a good detective."


"But how—"


"Look, Finn, I'd love to give you a real answer, but I'm pretty damn exhausted right now and all I want to do is make it back to camp in time for breakfast. Can we continue the conversation later? Please?"


I have a thousand more questions for her, but I don't want to push my luck. "Okay," I say, a bit uneasily. "Later, then."


"Later," Becca agrees. 

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