J – Running late…I'll be there in about half an hour or so. Can't wait to meet you in person!
C – Not a problem, but don't make a habit of it, mister, or I'm getting a new partner.
J – Rude. And we haven't even met yet!
C – Shut up and drive.
Looking back at our texting conversation, I smile. He should be getting pretty close now. Luckily for me, the location of our meeting is only 15 minutes away from Arendelle, which means it's almost 2 hours away from Burgess. I'm sitting on my bunk with my unpacked duffel bag. Since I'll be spending a few day here, I had to bring a few changes of clothes and stuff, but most of the bag is packed with lined paper – for writing music – and an assortment of writing utensils, plus some sheet music and my iPod. I'm not sure exactly how much work we'll get done, since all conversations I've had with Jack so far have gotten hopelessly off topic, but there's no harm in being prepared, I suppose. I swing my legs off the bed and stride through the cabin door, taking my iPod, a notebook, and a pen with me. I'm actually sharing the space with a couple of other girls that I've never met before, but they're all out somewhere, hanging out or working with their partners or something. From what I can gather, most of them already knew a little about the people they were working with, if they weren't already good friends with them. Jack and I seem to be one of the only matches in which we barely knew anything about each other….well, Jack didn't know me, at least.
The camp is a small site, with only a few cabins and a main dining hall. Since this is the first year of the exchange, there is only a handful of participants; it's a little exciting to think that we're some sort of test group. More girls than guys are doing the program, which is to be expected, but still, I was surprised by how many guys there were. Almost every pair is a boy and a girl, there are only two or three that are both girls.
I seat myself on a bench in the middle of the green space between the main hall and the cabins and put my earphones in, losing myself in the music and the wide blue sky.
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief,
Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
I smile to myself. I love a good Queen song. The drama, the choir-sounding feel of the background singers, the powerful, soulful voice of Freddie Mercury. I've often wondered about this song, why was it written, what's the message behind it? One thing I've always liked about Queen is that they don't seem to take themselves too seriously, even when they're being serious. I don't think that makes a whole lot of sense, but my appreciation of them is hard to pin down. I just like it, I guess there doesn't have to be an explanation. I close my eyes and start to hum along, then begin quietly singing to myself as the song progresses.
I work hard every day of my life
I work till I ache in my bones
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own –
I get down on my knees
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord – somebody – somebody
Can anybody find me – somebody to love?
Everyday – I try and I try and I try –
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm goin' crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe
Yeah – yeah yeah yeah
I'm just getting to the climax of the song when there's a nudge of my foot and I open my eyes. Jack's standing in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. His dark hair is hidden under a baseball cap and his bag is still slung over a shoulder. I blush and remove my earphones.
"Clara," he says in greeting.
"Sorry…how much of that did you hear?" I ask cautiously.
"Enough," he responds, and there's stifled laughter in his voice.
"Gosh, that's embarrassing," I say, and quickly change the subject. "How did you recognize me?"
He shrugs. "Well, it's not like I've never seen you before, and," he pauses, "I don't know, I just…I knew it was you. Besides, who else would be sitting by themselves? I'm pretty sure I'm the only late arrival to camp. Everyone else is probably with their partner already."
"Hmmm…that's true. Which means that you already owe me for being such a patient and understanding person."
"I'll try to make it up to you with my awesome guitar-playing skills."
"Awesome? That is yet to be decided. I haven't even heard you play anything yet. How do I know you're not just making the whole thing up."
As I knew he would, Jack recognizes the challenge in my voice and immediately rises to it. "Want me to play right now? I can," he says, gesturing at the guitar case resting on the ground next to him.
I laugh and wave his offer away. "Nah, you can unpack or whatever you need to do first."
"Wanna show me where the Bluejay cabin is? I have no idea where I'm going."
"Sure," I say, pushing myself to my feet. "This way." I lead him to the last cabin at the end of the row, three houses away from my "Robin" cabin.
"Welcome home," I say, presenting the structure to him with solemn pomp and circumstance.
Jack eyes the cabin critically. "It could do with a little landscaping, and maybe a repainting, but looks cozy."
I laugh. "Please, you'll only be staying here for three days, tops. Just unpack so we can get down to business."
"As you wish." Jack bows gracefully and opens the door, then turns back to me. "Stay," he commands, and then heads inside.
I only have to wait a few minutes before he returns carrying his guitar case across his back. "Quick unpacking," I observe, and he nods.
"I'm just gonna live out of my suitcase. No reason to take everything out."
I came to the same conclusion when I first got here, and tell him so. He inclines his head to me. "We're two peas in a pod, Clara. Which means that this partnership will either go really well or very badly."
"Please, contain your optimism," I respond sarcastically, and he just grins again and follows me to the main building. "I'm just being realistic," he continues. "I personally think we'll get along really well, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared for the worst."
I don't respond. What happened to the Jack that sees the bright side in everything? What happened to eternally optimistic Jack? I suppose he may have some trust issues or something after I – after Elsa – left him without warning, but I honestly didn't think it would affect him so much. I mean, it affected me, but Jack always seemed so much stronger.
Without acknowledging his previous comments, I open the door to the dining hall. "There are some practice rooms in here, and I got one reserved for us for today at least."
"How did you manage that?"
"I'm a very good negotiator."
"Ah. Threats and promises, I see."
"Mostly threats, but you know how it is."
The practice room that I "reserved" is just an empty space, except for a few chairs and an old piano that is thankfully still in tune. I tested it out earlier with a quick rendition of Fur Elise, or at least, as much of it as I could remember off the top of my head. I used to have it memorized, but it's been a while since I played.
Jack takes one look at the chairs and seats himself in the one closer to the piano. Instead of joining him, I sit on the floor instead, crossing my legs and pulling out my notebook. My pen is still stuck in my ponytail, and I leave it there for now.
"So," I say, looking up at my best friend where he's sitting adjusting the strings on his guitar.
"So," he responds without looking up. "What's the plan?"
"You're asking me? I don't plan anything if I can help it," I say, earning another grin from him.
"I second that. Unfortunately, this project requires at least a small amount of planning," he says ruefully.
"Do you have any good ideas?" I ask.
He shrugs, but he seems on the verge of saying something, so I stay quiet and wait, which has worked for me in the past with Jack.
"Remember how we couldn't decide on who was gonna sing?" he starts.
"How could I forget? Our first fight," I say mockingly. He laughs this time, but is undeterred in pursuing the topic of singing.
"I've been thinking about that a lot, and I think you should do the singing." I'm about to flatly refuse but he keeps talking. "Just hear me out for a sec, okay? I wasn't going to say anything, but you're actually a good singer, okay? Your rendition of Somebody to Love was really good, even when you didn't think anyone was listening."
"You've got to be kidding me," I say.
"I'm not joking," he replies, and the serious expression in his usually playful blue eyes is enough to convince me that he's being genuine.
"But…" I start, and he interrupts me again.
"Can we try something?"
"Sure."
He rummages through his guitar case and pulls out several papers, handing them to me. "Do you know this song?" I peruse the first sheet for a moment and then nod. Thanks to Kevin's love of older rock, I am well acquainted with the work of Johnny Cash.
"Good. I'm going to play this song, and I want you to sing along, okay?"
I make a face. "Fine, but after this, you're gonna sing a song for me, deal?"
"Deal," he says, then leans over his guitar and begins picking out the notes and chords of the song. I close my eyes and wait for the moment when I'm supposed to come in. I always forget how depressing and melancholy song this is until I hear it.
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
As the last chords of the guitar fade into silence, I bow my head to keep Jack from seeing the sudden moisture in my eyes. Why did he choose this song? It seems a terrible coincidence that the lyrics fit my situation so well. I peek up at him to see that his head is down, too, and he's staring at the floor with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Is something wrong?" I ask timidly.
He looks up at me and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "No, I'm fine. It's just…" he stops and seems unwilling to explain.
"Just what?" I'm probably pushing my luck, but I've never seen him in such a vulnerable state and it seems like a good time to press for some information, to see if he would tell me something – anything – about Elsa. I'm being heartless.
"Just…this song. It's one of the first I learned on the guitar, it was very fitting for that time of my life. It still is, I guess," he says, looking back down. "And to hear you sing it, I don't know, it's just bringing back that time to me."
"I'm sorry," I say simply.
"It was my idea to play it," he responds, and we sit in silence for a little while.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Sometimes it's easier to say things like this, really personal things, to strangers than it is to tell them to people who know you really well. Luckily for Jack, I am both a stranger and someone who knows him well.
He shrugs and the silence stretches out. It's not an uncomfortable quiet, though, it's just…quiet. After a while he looks up at me. "I had a friend, my best friend, growing up. She disappeared. I never knew what happened to her or where she went. Her parents knew, but they wouldn't tell me – they still won't. This song reminds me of her."
The song 'Hurt' by Johnny Cash reminds him of me? Did me leaving hurt him that badly? Does he understand how much it hurt me? It's shocking how much this song fits both of our experiences.
I don't say anything, because I'm not sure if my voice is working at the moment. Jack's grin returns, though, and he says in a much lighter voice, "I did tell you you could sing though, didn't I? That was really good." The vulnerable moment is over, Jack's eyes are back to their usual sparkle. I just shrug. "Well, let's not jump to any crazy conclusions about who's singing. It's your turn now."