Survivor Girl by Erin Teagan

Author:Erin Teagan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HMH Books

Twenty-Two

Everything hurts when I get out of bed the next morning. It’s not just my head anymore. But I lie when Claire asks me how I feel.

“Great.” I stretch and bend over to get my shoes, a searing pain rocketing up my leg. She hands me some medicine and a bottle of water, shaking her head.

“You’re just like your father, you know. God forbid a Kensington has a real injury that requires some bed rest.” She snorts. “I want you to take it easy. You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead that I had to glue shut, and a minor concussion.” She looks at me. “That’s no joke, okay?”

I take the medicine when she’s not looking.

Muscle Mindy is running circles around the medical tent with Isabel on her back when I step out into the sun.

“Hey, Amy!” she says, trotting past, and I don’t even correct her.

I hear Dad’s voice coming from the prop tent and I take my time walking over, still feeling a bit wobbly. He’s rummaging through the bin of fishing gear with the props guy when I step through the flap door. On one side of the tent is a long table divided into little squares with masking tape, one for each prop item. The stuffed squirrel is there, its little square labeled SQUIRREL, SCENE 7, DAY 4. There are a lot of random things, like a fishing net, a plastic gray mouse, bear spray, a Survivor Guy knife, three pieces of firewood, a snakeskin, the hook made out of a rock, and a cluster of dead yellow flies. The other side of the tent is a mess of stacked boxes filled with junk. The one next to me is overflowing with paper leaves of every color.

“Hey, Dad,” I say. “I’m back. Ready for another day on set.”

He rushes over and gives me a delicate hug, then looks at my head. “Does it hurt? Does Claire know you’re out of bed?”

“Just a tiny concussion. I’m fine.”

They let me back on the set for the day, but Claire and Muscle Mindy follow my every step. The makeup lady spends a long time fashioning a paper leaf bandage to go over my real one. Muscle Mindy gets one to match and basically does the entire morning shoot for me, except for the parts where Dad’s cooking up a swamp muskie for lunch while Jake and I are sitting on the beach of the lake. When there’s absolutely no potential risk of bodily harm.

The rest of the time, I sit on a camping chair a few feet away, under an umbrella for shade. Adam sits next to me and we watch Muscle Mindy fake-build a raft with my brother and Dad. I can’t even look at him. He stuck up for me at the ditch, and I blew it.

Rick interrupts the raft-building. “Mindy, maybe a little less grunting? We’re hoping to emphasize the strengthening father-son and -daughter relationships, not muscles.”

Adam crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I can’t wait to leave this place.

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