Page 10 of Summer’s Echo

Echo

Another couple of weeks with Summer and I working together with the Creative Crew, she’d finally eased up a little and let me take the lead during class a few times.

It felt good to do what I loved, especially since we had the right software now.

I’d been itching to start teaching the computer drafting class, and it was worth the wait.

I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of donors Camp Quest had on their side because each kid had their own tablet to create their projects.

That kind of luxury would’ve never been available at my old camp.

Even Summer seemed excited to learn some of the techniques I was teaching the campers, which was a miracle in itself.

It felt like we’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm.

Every morning, we had breakfast with the same group of counselors before walking to the art room together.

By lunchtime, the vibe was the same—easy, like we’d been doing this forever.

Like clockwork, I’d casually toss out a flirty line or two, just to watch her eyes roll in that way only she could, or she’d hit me with her best hard-to-get mean girl act.

And then there were those damn dimples, caving in despite her effort to play tough.

I knew she secretly loved our playtime. I know I did.

We ended every class the same way to—our game of questions.

Each round pulled us closer without either of us wanting to admit it.

After class today, we walked our campers to the quad where ice cream was being served.

Instead of hanging with the other counselors, we took a walk, drifting toward one of the wooden swings near the lodges.

We sat side by side, swaying while she enjoyed an ice cream sandwich, while I ate a Drumstick.

“What high school are you going to?” She hit me with a question that I quickly realized was a rite of passage for every St. Louis native meeting someone new.

Apparently, around here, that question was more than just small talk.

Summer explained that it was code—the quickest way to figure out who you knew, what part of town you were from, how smart you might be, and, depending on the school, even how much money your parents probably made.

It was like a secret handshake, and I was just starting to catch on.

“I’m going to Carter Prep Academy,” I answered.

Summer perked up just a bit, a trace of surprise brightening her features. “Oh, so you’re smart smart like your daddy!” she teased as she sat crisscrossed legs, casually running her tongue around the edge of the ice cream sandwich.

I tossed my head back, caught up in the charm of her quick wit. “Why you say that? What school do you go to?” I asked as if I was familiar with any high schools in St. Louis.

“Riverdale. A public school. Carter Prep is, like, the best and most expensive private school in the city,” she said, switching to an exaggerated snooty tone. “Most of their students go off to the Harvards of the world.”

I shook my head. “Well, I mean, I am smart, but Harvard ain’t for me.”

Summer arched a perplexed eyebrow, her expression twisting in offense, like I’d insulted Mariah Carey, her favorite singer. “It’s Harvard. You talk like it’s some kind of trade school or something,” she said, her whole face now furrowed as she studied me.

“Nah, no diss,” I replied quickly, shaking my head.

“My father would love for me to go to an Ivy League, but I’ve dreamed of being a Morehouse man since I was six years old.

” My posture straightened a bit, proud just saying it.

Her head snapped in my direction, her pretty face a mix of shock and surprise.

I was confused by her reaction. “What? What’s wrong with Morehouse? ” I asked, tossing my hands up.

She shook her head quickly, that auburn-brown ponytail of hers swaying as she pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said, her tone softer now. “Actually, Spelman’s been my dream since I was like ten.”

A small smile curved the corner of my lips.

The kind that didn’t come often, a rare feeling—one of those this feels-like-fate moments.

We were only teenagers, but something about her felt timeless, like she could be my forever.

For a brief second, the image of me and Summer being a SpelHouse connection played vividly in my mind, as if it was already written.

I stepped closer, leaning casually against the table beside her. “See, Sunshine, our friendship was meant to be,” I teased, winking as I reached out to press the tip of her button nose with my finger.

She swatted my hand away. “Echo, stop,” she whined, but the protest lacked any real bite.

A comfortable hush fell between us, the kind that needed no words.

Both of us sat there, steadily becoming comfortable in the silence, losing in a moment of possibilities—Morehouse for me, Spelman for her, and a future that suddenly didn’t feel so far away.

“Sunshine, huh?” she said, interrupting my musings, her voice questioning.

“That’s a new one.” I nodded, trying to keep my cool as she smiled, a soft, shy curve of her lips.

“I like it,” she admitted quietly. Her words caught me off guard, and for what felt like a lifetime, I just stared at her, stunned.

She’d completely thrown me off my game, so much so that, for once, I didn’t have a comeback ready.

Finally, I cleared my throat, breaking the silence. “Alright, man, I gotta bounce. Thanks for your help today, by the way. Turns out you know more about computers than I thought you would.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. I swore those big, brown things were going to get stuck someday. “Whatever. I’m smart, too, smarty pants,” she shot back, playfully sticking out her tongue.

I gave her a lingering glance before turning to head toward my lodge, but after only a few steps, I hesitated.

I caught her just as she bent to pick up the ice cream wrapper from the ground, my attention snagged on her again.

I lingered a second too long, tracing the curves of her figure, drawn to the effortless way she moved.

Summer’s body was…thick. Like grown-woman thick.

Like that girl on Tyra Banks’ modeling show that my sister watched.

I think her name was Toccara. The judges called her plus-sized for the runway, but I just called her fine.

That was my Sunshine, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t deny how intrigued I was.

She lifted her head suddenly, catching me in the act.

Busted . A knowing, yet coy smile spread across her pretty face, and I froze for a moment.

Mine faltered, my cheeks burned like a horny li’l boy who couldn’t keep his cool around a pretty girl.

Regaining my composure, I found my swag again.

“Come on, Sunshine. I’ll walk you to your room. ”

She didn’t say a word, just gave a little nod as she caught up to me.

Her lodge was just a few steps away, so it didn’t take long for me to watch her disappear through the door before turning in the opposite direction.

Instead of heading to my room, I circled around the building, passing by her bedroom window.

Just before I was completely out of sight, I tapped on the glass to get her attention and stuck out my tongue—payback for earlier.

Summer shook her head before tossing up her middle finger without missing a beat.

I clutched my chest in mock offense, and just like that, we were laughing, two little kids wrapped up in our own silliness until she was gone from view.

Even after I walked away, I couldn’t shake the stupid heat creeping up my neck, the blush lingering long after I should’ve moved on.

“Hey, Mum,” I said into the phone, leaning back in the chair. We couldn’t have mobile phones at camp, so we had to make calls from the lobby of the main building.

“Echo,” my mother cooed, making me smile instantly. “We miss you, especially Didi.”

“I miss you guys, too.”

“You haven’t called in a bit,” she added, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Things must be good.”

I nodded though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, ma’am. It’s…cool.”

“Cool, huh?” she mocked me before continuing. “Have you made any new friends?”

“A few,” I admitted. “A lot of counselors are from St. Louis, so that’s cool, and one guy goes to my new school, so…” My voice faded as I tried to figure out how to explain the mix of comfort and unfamiliarity.

My mother took a deep breath, a sound so full of relief that I could almost feel her body relaxing through the phone.

While my dad taught me to be a man—practice strength and discipline—my mum?

She taught me something just as important, to be a gentleman—how to care and not be afraid to show it.

So, my happiness was important to her, maybe more than it mattered to me. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

In the background, there was a sudden burst of commotion, followed by familiar chaotic shouting. I let out a snort, knowing without a doubt it was my rowdy siblings. “Is that Echo, mum?” someone yelled.

“I wanna talk first,” Sadie’s voice chimed in, clear and demanding as always.

“One at a time,” my mum fussed. For the next fifteen minutes, I was passed around like a toy, catching up with my family. Then there was a soft knock on the window in front of me. I lifted my head and saw her .