Page 24

twenty-four

Jessie

The dining hall is abuzz with conversation as everyone gathers for the talent show. This is one of my favorite events of the summer—and tonight it feels extra special. We’re so close to saving the camp.

Jack and Mary are doing a site visit and inspection with the new buyer on Monday. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to explain our co-op plan. This morning, I sent the Valentines an email, inviting them to join me and our staff for dinner the night before the site visit, and Jack accepted.

Now I step out onstage, my nerves kicking into high gear. I’ve gotten used to being in front of a crowd of adult campers, but tonight a few thousand more are watching online.

“Welcome, everyone!” I say into the microphone. The audience applauds and whistles. “I’m thrilled to have so many people gathered for our talent show—in person and virtually. It’s a joint effort by all the campers this week, but I want to give a special shout-out to Kat Steiner and Noah Rooney for all the help getting this online.”

More whistling and cheering. Blake and Kat are in the front row with their husbands, and Blake shoves Kat to her feet so she can take a bow. Beside Blake, Noah lifts a hand and waves.

“Before we start,” I go on, “I want to remind everyone what we’re raising money for tonight. We’re hoping to purchase the camp and keep it going for generations to come. Please check out our website for information on how to pledge money or otherwise support our cause. The response has been incredible, and we’re close to reaching our goal!”

I scan the audience and realize with a start that I’m looking for Luke. We haven’t talked since our confrontation the other day—I’m not avoiding him, exactly, but I’m kind of…embarrassed, I guess. By all of it. His rejection, my overreaction.

When I can’t find him in the audience, my heart sinks.

I miss him. I didn’t realize how much until this exact moment.

It would be one thing if I could brush him off as an asshole, but he’s not—the other day, I watched him play “fetch” with Scout by throwing a stick into the lake, carrying her into the water to help her get the stick in her mouth, then carrying her back to shore, over and over again. His back must have been aching. It was the sweetest, saddest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

But if he’s not an asshole, that means there must be something about me, specifically, that he doesn’t like—which is fine, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

You’re a camp nine but a real-world six , a little voice from the past whispers.

Luke could definitely do better than a six.

Shaking off my dark thoughts, I smile and focus on the audience. “Without further ado, let’s start the show! First up we have Cabin Three, performing a skit they’re calling ‘The Aquamen’!”

And with that, the talent show is on. Cabin Three starts us off with a classic “synchronized swimming” skit: a blue sheet held in front to represent water, and a choreographed routine performed behind it, complete with matching swim caps and nose plugs. We roll through a variety of talents—an interpretive dance to “My Heart Will Go On” performed on rolling chairs from my office; Kat and Blake’s lip-sync and dance to “Build Me Up Buttercup”; Cooper on guitar performing “Yellow Submarine.” He’s then joined by people playing fiddle, mandolin, and banjo for a rousing folk version of “She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.”

For our part, Hillary and I do our favorite skit from childhood—she sits behind me, and I pull my arms inside the big T-shirt I’m wearing while she puts her arms through, so it looks like her arms are mine. Then we re-create “A Day in the Life of a Camp Director,” with Hillary attempting to braid my hair, put on my sunscreen, and feed me breakfast. I end up absolutely disgusting, but everyone is laughing, so it’s okay.

The grand finale is a sing-along of Nathaniel’s favorite song, “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” with the changes he made to the lyrics to reflect our camp instead of West Virginia. We sing the chorus over and over, repeating the familiar words about returning home, to the place you belong.

Right here , I think. Doing exactly this.

After the song ends, I wipe my eyes and take the microphone again. I thank the performers and everyone in the audience, both in person and virtual.

“To wrap things up,” I say, “I want to give an update on our fundraising. Dot, do you have the total?”

She hands me a piece of paper. My heart pounds; this is the moment of truth.

Hands shaking, I take the paper. In the front row, Hillary’s hands are clasped together as she waits.

I clear my throat and address everyone. “As you probably remember, Dot divides all humanity into two big groups: camp people, and those who aren’t. And if you aren’t, you’re…”

“POND SCUM!” the audience yells, clapping and laughing.

“That’s right,” I say, smiling. “You probably also remember that camp people never say goodbye, we say…”

“See ya next summer!” the audience finishes, with more cheering.

I nod. “A month ago, I thought the end of this summer would mean goodbye, forever—and I was determined to make it the best goodbye imaginable. But thanks to the ideas of this brilliant woman”—I point to Hillary in the front row—“my incredible staff, and all you beautiful camp people who joined us tonight, in person or virtually, I finally have hope that Camp Chickawah will be here for many summers to come. And so, I am delighted to announce…”

I hesitate, my gaze drifting over the audience. And this time I see him, way in the back.

Luke. He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching me.

Our eyes meet, and a jolt runs through my body. For an instant, I falter—he unnerves me, the way he seems to see through my skin, even at this distance. But then he gives a small nod, like I’m doing just fine, and maybe it’s pathetic, but that’s all I need to collect myself.

“Thanks to your generosity,” I say, a huge smile spreading across my face, “we’ve not only hit our goal, we’ve exceeded it by three thousand dollars!”

The room erupts into cheers. Hillary jumps up from her seat and runs to give me a hug. Dot joins us, then Zac and Zoey and Cooper, hugging and cheering.

By the time I look over at the door again, Luke is gone.

—

It’s Sunday evening, and Cooper outdid himself with family dinner. Everyone’s in a good mood as we discuss Zoey’s latest “would you rather”—a choice between having chocolate hair or chocolate fingernails.

“Fingernails,” Zac says immediately.

“You’re going to eat your fingernails?” Zoey says, giving him a disgusted look. “I’d pick chocolate hair. Always have a little snack on the go!”

Zac tugs at his short hair. “That wouldn’t work for me, babe. Can I share yours?”

“Ew, no,” she says, and for a moment he genuinely looks like he’s going to cry.

“Definitely better to have chocolate hair,” Dot says. “Chocolate fingernails wouldn’t provide any protection at all. Did you know that nail bed injuries can take six to twelve months to heal?”

I stifle a laugh. “I did, thanks to your first aid book.”

“Okay, I have one,” Hillary says. “It’s chocolate adjacent: would you rather swim in a pool of M&M’s or a pool of Skittles?”

“Skittles,” Zac immediately says. “Body heat would melt the M&M’s.”

“What kind of Skittles?” Dot asks.

“I love the sour ones,” I say.

Dot turns to me. “Ah, but you wouldn’t want to swim in those. They’re covered in powder. You’d breathe it in and develop a chemical pneumonitis.”

Cooper slides in next to Hillary—he’s always last to fill his plate—and says, “Would you rather keep talking about fictitious candy-related situations or our plan to approach Jack and Mary Valentine? They’re coming tomorrow.”

Everyone goes quiet. A heavy feeling of dread settles over the group.

“Sorry,” Cooper says, wincing.

“No, you’re right,” I say. “We have the money raised. We have a business plan. We just need to get Jack’s buy-in.”

“And they’re still planning on the dinner?” Hillary asks.

“Yep,” I say. “Cooper, do you have the menu set?”

“Just about. I’ll need to make a special trip to town for some ingredients.”

“And Zac and Zoey, the sailboat will be ready?” I ask. We’re taking the big forty-footer out on a sunset cruise for the dinner, giving Jack and Mary a view of the camp from the lake.

Zac gives a salute. “I found the perfect spot to drop anchor.”

“The financials are almost ready,” Hillary says. “I pulled comps in the area, so I know our offer is competitive, but we’ll need to cover any penalties the Valentines will accrue from backing out of the sale, too. I also gathered stats on the individuals joining the co-op, so they can see our plan is viable.”

“Excellent,” I say. “And I’m working on my most persuasive, heartfelt speech.” Looking around at my staff, my heart glows with pride and gratitude. My summer family. “Let’s save our camp.”

—

When I head back to my cabin, there’s an envelope stuck in the doorjamb. It’s addressed to me, written in unfamiliar handwriting.

Jessie—

Congratulations on reaching your goal. I can’t say I’m surprised—you’ve always been the kind of person who achieves whatever she sets her mind to. Including getting me to apologize (insert self-deprecating smile from me). Even though you were the one who poured syrup on my head (insert eye roll from you).

So here you go: I’m sorry. You’re a perfect queen and I’m a dumb little dweeb. I’m a pathetic, pretentious prick. Whatever I have to say to get you to talk to me again. You are quite literally the only friend I have here. Which is my own fault for being antisocial, I know. But still. Come say hi.

—Luke