Ihaan told Camp Juniper a story that night. I have to admit, he was pretty good with stories.
After Dad tended to him, – wrapped his ankle with a fresh bandage and cleaned his nose – we helped him over to Uncle Macon. He took his left arm, while Dad held him by the right, and they worked together to help him into the hammock.
During that time, Uncle Clement and Uncle Harrison finished setting up camp, and Aunt Lydia returned with a load of firewood.
Mom, Aunt Delia, and Aunt Jessie together looked up from cooking, but Mom huffed and closed her eyes, looking away. She was more jealous with Ihaan’s survival skills rather than the fact that she had been wrong.
Once we made sure Ihaan was comfortable, everybody, except Uncle Bart and I, hustled over to the picnic table and helped cook dinner.
Aunt Lydia made a fire, and Uncle Bart and I stayed with Ihaan. Uncle Bart placed a cool, new rag to his forehead, and I tossed his blanket over him. I returned his spear to his canoe, so all his belongings were together again.
While Uncle Bart and I watched over the boy, Uncle Bart admitted, “This is so remarkable.” He glanced at me. “Sorry about earlier, my dear. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I turned against you. I just found Ihaan too amazing to be real. But now I see that I made an enormous mistake.”
I patted his hand and comfortably spoke, “Don’t worry, Uncle Bart. It’s not every day you meet an amnesic hermit in the Lady Evelyn-Smoothwater Provincial Park. I’m just glad I finally found another teenager to hang out with.” I sighed. “I was so worried I was stuck. No offense, Uncle Bart.”
“Ah, don’t worry, Kylie Wylie.” Uncle Bart chuckled, and he waved his hand. “I’d feel the same way if I was your age again and stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of old people. You acquired a very unique solution, though. I wish I was as lucky as you.”
I blushed. “Yeah.” I peered down on Ihaan again. “However, I’m worried about Ihaan. I think he’s hurt far worse than I thought he was. We’ve got to get him a doctor.”
“How about let’s do this?” asked Uncle Bart, and he nudged my shoulder. “Let’s try to convince him to join Camp Juniper. We can help him to Lady Evelyn Lake so he can help that animal. If he’s still hurting this much when we reach it, then we’ll either call for a helicopter to airlift him to a hospital or take him all the way to Latchford. It will really depend on the severity of his ankle injury and pain level. The ankle is what we have to watch. He obviously severely broke it once and never got medical treatment for it. We just need to know when he broke it and how long he’s had to deal with it. If he comes with us, we can also try to help him find his lost memories. You say he’s been out here for ten years?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. I want to know how old he was when he got lost, so that’s why I need him to remember his age. He thinks he’s ten because he doesn’t remember anything before ten years ago. All he remembers is that his last name is ‘Kronin.’”
“Kronin?”
“Yes, Uncle Bart, which that brings me to the conclusion that this dry bag is his.” Here, I picked up the mysterious, yellow dry bag that I pulled out of Dad’s canoe and held it out to Uncle Bart.
“Oh well, what do you know?” he asked, and adjusting his glasses, he took the dry bag out of my hand. “Perhaps there will be a clue about his age in here?”
Ihaan was a very light sleeper. I don’t think he was ever fully asleep because he frequently spoke things that told us he had been listening in. He suddenly opened his mouth and spoke, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Oh no. Keep those quacky doctors away from me.”
Both Uncle Bart and I jumped.
“Ihaan!” I yelped.
Ihaan painfully sat up, with his eyes still closed, and the rag fell from his forehead. He clutched it with both hands because he still had a headache.
“We thought you were fast asleep.” Uncle Bart told him.
“Sleeping is kinda hard when there are two people talking next to me.” Ihaan stated.
Uncle Bart and I nervously chuckled.
Ihaan dropped his hands and finally opened his eyes.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. I heard Ihaan’s tummy rumble.
He blushed and reached for it.
I tittered, “I think you are. What do you want? We have chips, tacos, and dried fruit.”
“I have no idea what those foods are,” Ihaan admitted.
I opened my mouth to comment, but Mom approached us, and she held a Coke bottle in her hand. She was very mean to Ihaan.
“Oh, poor dear,” she sarcastically spoke, and she placed her hand on her hip. “He’s never had chips, tacos, or dried fruit. Why don’t you have some Coke instead, Ihaan? As they say, ‘Life is better with Coke.’” She forced poor Ihaan to chug the Coke. She almost killed him!
“Coke?” he weakly asked, and next thing he knew, Mom shoved the bottle into his face, and she began her plot. “It’s good for you,” she growled at him, and she punched the bottle’s top down towards Ihaan’s throat.
Uncle Bart and I gasped.
“Mom!” I shouted.
“Penelope!” yelled Uncle Bart.
Ihaan closed his eyes and started to cough. Mom was choking him! Coke spewed out of his mouth and stained his blanket.
I finally ripped the bottle out and shoved Mom away. “Stay away from him, Mom! How dare you! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Ihaan still coughed. He could barely breathe. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he coughed up a storm.
Mom next drew a water bottle from her back pocket, and she unscrewed the top. Next, she splashed the water into Ihaan’s face.
He coughed again. Water soaked his hair, face, and skin.
“Mom!” I shouted again.
Mom threw her hand and yelled, “Get him out of here! We’re not going to have anyone like him in Camp Juniper! If you don’t get rid of him by tomorrow morning, then I will!”
I pushed her away again. “Go away! There’s no way I’m going to get rid of him! He’s hurt!”
Mom stomped her foot and threw her hands like she was a little kid again. “I don’t care! I just want him out of my sight!”
“No!” I refused. I noticed that Ihaan was clutching his head again with his eyes closed. “He’s not going anywhere! He’s staying here!”
“FIFTEEN!” Ihaan suddenly shouted out.
I yelped again and fell backwards. Uncle Bart did too. Quickly, I got up and asked Ihaan, “Is that your age? Are you fifteen years old?”
Ihaan sprung to life! He shot to a sitting position again and nodded. He cracked a small smile and announced, “Yes! I am fifteen years old, Kylie!” He grabbed my shoulders and shook them. “My memory is coming back! My last name is Kronin, and I am fifteen years old!”
“Then that means you have been stuck out here since you were five years old!” I concluded. “Ihaan, what on earth happened to you?”
“I have no idea,” he answered, “but hey, I remembered something!”
“Good,” Mom growled, “he’s better. Now get him out of here.”
Uncle Bart and I shot her a glare. Mom, shut your mouth.
I prepared to protest, but before I could, I heard Ihaan. “Fine. If that is what you desire.” He actually sounded a little angry.
Uncle Bart and I together peered down on him and asked, “Huh?”
Ihaan swung his legs over the side of the hammock, and his blanket rested next to him. It smelled of Coke, and he wasn’t happy about that. I mean, I’d feel the same way if I was treated unfairly.
Ihaan’s wide, deep brown eyes met Mom’s, and he added with, “If you refuse to accept hermits like me, ma’am, then fine. I will get out of your hay, but I can assure you that you are going to regret this one of these days.”
That’s right, Ihaan! Stand up for yourself!
Right after he said that, he pushed himself off the hammock and hopped down next to it.
A tsunami of worry swamped me and dragged me under. “But, Ihaan.” I frightfully spoke.
“Your leg’s hurt,” Uncle Bart reminded him.
Ihaan didn’t listen. He huffed and picked up his boots, slipping them on. Closing his eyes, he looked away from Mom. Once he was ready, he took a step towards his canoe. Immediately, he groaned and swayed. Ihaan fell forward, with his teeth clenched together, but I caught him by his shoulders.
“Stop, Ihaan.” I begged. “Please. You can’t walk. You need to let your foot rest. We’re going to try to help you to a pediatric. You just have to trust us. Until we do, we don’t want you to put a lot of pressure on this foot of yours.”
“Miss America doesn’t want me around,” Ihaan grumbled. He pushed himself up and glanced into Mother’s eyes again. “So, I will fulfill her request. I have to help that ill animal anyway. Speaking of which...” Ihaan released his shoulders and next searched the area. “Where is Ro? Where is my bird?! I want my bird!” He glared at Mom. “What did you do with my bird?!”
“I didn’t do anything to your stupid bird!” Mom snapped. “Why don’t you shut that big mouth of yours and get the heck out of dodge?” She pointed at his canoe.
Uncle Bart and I shot her another angry look. I could see the lighting flashing between Ihaan and Mom’s eyes.
Before Mom could say anything else rude to him, Dad called her over to help set the table, and she decided to pull out. Before doing so, she said one last thing to Ihaan, Uncle Bart, and I. “He can stay tonight, but tomorrow, he better be gone!”
Ihaan moved towards her, but I grabbed him before he could make a move. “What did you do to my bird?!” he repeated.
Mom didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed her nose into the sky and marched towards Dad.
Once she was gone, I reached my hand up and felt the side of Ihaan’s forehead, saying, “You’re sweating, Ihaan. You need to lie down.”
Ihaan shook his head and tried to pull away. “Not until I have Ro. Where is Ro?”
Uncle Bart and I together took his arms and helped him back into the hammock.
“She will be back soon, son.” Uncle Bart explained. “We don’t want you to worry. Most likely, it will be easier for Ro to track you down if you just stay with us tonight. We don’t want to confuse her now, do we?”
“No.” Ihaan whispered. He fell backwards onto the hammock’s pillow. He stared at the pink sky and added with, “I just don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“Nothing will.” Uncle Bart promised. “Cross our hearts, Ihaan. Just ignore Mrs. Juniper over there.” He glanced at Mom out of the corners of his eyes. “She’s just trying to make you feel bad about yourself.” He turned his head towards Ihaan again. “Why don’t I get you something to eat?”
I chimed in. “And I’ll wash your blanket?” I picked up Ihaan’s stained blanket and threw it over my shoulder.
“But I’m cold,” he complained.
“Well, I don’t blame you.” I admitted. I watched as Uncle Bart left to grab him a plate of food. “You’re wet, and you’re also not wearing a shirt. I’ll get you another blanket to use as a spare until this one dries.” And with that, I turned on my heel and left Ihaan as well.
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