Her Kind Of Hero. Janice Carter

needed to tell her story and that he wanted to hear it.

      “Anyway, I didn’t know any of those kids on the platform. But when I was going through the turnstile, I accidentally stepped on a girl’s foot. I tried to apologize, but she kept yelling that I was disrespectful.”

      “Showing off for her friends,” Matt put in.

      “I guess.” Dana looked his way. “I thought if I just ignored her, she’d figure out I was no threat and leave me alone. But when I got down to the platform, she gave me a hard push.”

      “She couldn’t afford to lose face with her buddies.”

      “I can see you know teenagers.”

      “Well, I was one myself once.”

      “But not like those kids.”

      Matt stared out across the lake. Maybe not quite like them.

      “Anyway, you know the rest of that story. But the whole way home, I was thinking about what happened and especially about what might have happened,” she went on.

       You and me both.

      “I decided I was never going to let myself be bullied again, even if it meant I was doomed to be a complete loner at school. And I was for the rest of my high school years. I made myself toughen up. I finally did just what my father had been wanting me to do.”

      Now he really wanted to hug her, but instead he said, “I didn’t mean to sound angry back there. I’m a bit sensitive when it comes to Camp Hope. It was my dream for a long time and now that I’ve finally managed to make it happen...well...hearing anything that seems like skepticism makes me overreact sometimes.” He paused, watching her take this in, then added, “But seriously, I’m letting you off the hook.”

      “No. What I’m trying to say is that I know sometimes I can be... That...sometimes I come across as...”

      “Dana,” he said, reaching out for her hand, “be kind to yourself. You had an awful experience—a life-threatening one. You no longer have to prove anything to anyone, least of all me. It’s all right. I’m happy to have met you and... Well...I can take you home.”

      She shook her head, slipping her hand out of his. “No, Matt. I need to do this. I will rise to the challenge. You’ll see.”

      His held her gaze, unable to think of a single thing to say. But he felt a lightness flare briefly inside. “Then I guess we should get back to the cabins...and those bunk beds.”

      DANA SANK BENEATH the billowy foam in her bath, leaned against the end of the tub and let out a long sigh. But her fatigue wasn’t physical. Hiking and running had been part of her life since high school. Her father had encouraged a full regimen of athletics, part of his “get tough” campaign. And after that day on the subway, Dana had accepted the challenge with determination.

      No, her exhaustion was a result of her inner turmoil, rather than making up twenty-two beds. She wondered who’d be in charge of the boys’ cabin. Matt? She felt an unexpected pleasure at the thought of him mere yards away.

      The whole time she was working, she was thinking of him and the way he didn’t interrupt her or dole out meaningless phrases of sympathy. He simply let her talk, and although that day had played like a horrifying video in her head for years, she’d never actually talked about it to anyone. It was fitting that the first person to hear her pathetic story was Matt. His hand wrapped around hers had given her the courage to go on. The strength and reassurance of that grasp stayed with her the rest of the day at Camp Hope.

      After she’d made up the beds, he’d helped her sweep, then mop the floors in both cabins. She’d thought he might open up while they were working and tell her something of that day from his perspective, or even about his life afterward. But the talk had been mainly outlining the agenda for the next day’s meeting at the camp. Something was obviously on his mind during the ride back to the city, and he’d fallen into a long silence.

      She sat up and rinsed off the puffs of foam on her arms and chest. She’d noticed that Sandro hadn’t been happy about her volunteering, though she couldn’t be certain if his upset had been directed at her or Matt. Not that she cared. Many people made assumptions about her abilities or character merely based on appearance. She understood how and why those opinions were formed. After that day, she’d learned to dismiss those people the way they dismissed her. She didn’t need them in her life anyway.

      Matt was different, though she couldn’t explain why. When he was showing her around the camp, she saw that his pride blinded him to the negative aspects she couldn’t help pointing out. Her attempt to help had been interpreted as nit-picking. But for twenty years he’d been her hero and though he obviously drew the same conclusions about her that Sandro had, she needed to prove him wrong.

      Rising up, Dana released the tub stopper and reached for the thick white towel draped over the stool next to the vanity. How hard could it be to spend a couple of days with some kids?