“Yeah?” Eyes still closed, he smiled and took a bite of chocolate.
“I sort of feel like that.”
Blinking, Jesse considered this. “Ben burned you down?”
I nodded. “But I’m growing back. Differently.”
Scooting closer to me, he smiled slowly. “Do you remember what I said about that section of the woods?”
I nodded again, the corners of my mouth tugging upward. “It’s your favorite.”
He reached out and boinged one of my curls. “That it is.”
I laughed and batted his hand away. “That’s your one free boing,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “There are consequences from here on out.”
Chuckling, he leaned in and kissed a spot under my ear. “Like what?” he whispered.
I breathed in his warm smell of coconuts and pine and sweat and earth. Bravery surged through me. “For starters,” I said, plucking at his collar, “this shirt’s gotta go.”
Expectant eyes met mine. “You sure?”
“Don’t get any big ideas,” I said, suddenly not sure what I was agreeing to. “No one’s having your babies any time soon, Mr. Rose-Eerdmans.”
He dropped his head, laughing. “I happily agree to your terms, Ms. Bailey-Cho.” He sat up straight and removed his shirt in that mysterious way boys do by grabbing the back of the collar and pulling it forward. My marvel at that universality was short-lived, however, because it was replaced by his lean, firm chest and arms.
I exhaled a shuddery breath. Then I sat up a little straighter and eyed his bare chest. I’d touched him through his shirt and even under his shirt, but he’d never taken his shirt off for me like this. It felt . . . different. Exposed.
He grinned. “If this is my punishment for boinging your curls, you can expect a lot of boinging from here on out.”
I laughed. “I believe we have moved on to the exorcism portion of the evening,” I said in a lofty voice, trying to hide my nervousness.
Nodding, he cupped my cheek, and I tilted my head into his hand. “I’m all in,” he said in a low, quiet voice.
A while later, Jesse touched his forehead to mine. “You are awesome. So awesome, I think I need some water. And to recite the state capitals in alphabetical order.”
He rolled over to his backpack and pulled out his Nalgene.
I gaped at him. “State capitals? W-Why?”
He shot me a half smile. “Let’s just say my body really likes you touching me.” He took a big glug of water. “And I need to calm it down a little. Plus, I think you’ll find my state capital knowledge is pretty impressive.” He cleared his throat and folded his arms over his chest. “Albany, Annapolis, Atlanta, Augusta—”
I realized what he was doing and laughed. “Did you know,” I said, sitting up, “that when I learned about sex, I figured penises were straight like sticks all the time? I didn’t ask anyone, but I felt really sorry for boys. It sounded extremely uncomfortable.”
Jesse burst out laughing.
“Better?” I asked, smiling.
“No!” he exclaimed. “I told you—I love that you’re funny. It does not make . . . things calm down.”
“It’s always seemed to have worked before.”
Jesse shook his head, then leaned in slowly and kissed my neck. I sighed.
“We’ve established this. Those guys are idiots,” he whispered, his breath tickling my skin.
I smiled and tilted my neck. “I like that.”
He kissed my neck again. “What else do you like?” he asked.
I tugged on the hem of my T-shirt. “Let’s find out.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
An hour later, hand in hand, I realized that we were about to emerge from the woods. Anticipating that tomorrow a million people would be around to pick up and be picked up from camp and we wouldn’t have any alone time, I dropped my pack, flicked off my head-lamp, and pulled Jesse to me. After he dropped his pack and headlamp, too, I kissed him, trying to memorize the way his body felt pressed against mine.
“I’m so glad I met you,” I said, my arms still wrapped around his neck.
“I’m the luckiest Boy Scout of all time,” he marveled, keeping me close. “Who meets any girl at Boy Scout camp, much less the best girl?”
“There should be a merit badge for that.”
Jesse laughed and kissed me again.
“And hey—in three weeks when Boy Scout camp is over, and you’re back in Minnesota, I want to meet Micky. And your moms.”
He nodded and smiled. “Three weeks is going to feel like a lifetime,” he said.
“Three lifetimes,” I agreed. “One for each week.”
He picked up his backpack, stared at it, then dropped it, and kissed me again. Laughing, I kissed him back, taking his hand and guiding it under my shirt, but Jesse pulled away. “Karen—”
I chuckled. “No one’ll be here for at least twenty more minutes,” I murmured.
“No—Karen! There! Now!”
My head whipped around to follow where he was pointing. Karen, plus the Gildas, were marching with purpose toward the nurse’s cabin.
“Hey!” I called out, waving an arm over my head. “How was the show?”
At the sound of my voice, their heads snapped my way, and like a flock of birds with a shared instinctual brain, the Gildas flew toward us. Karen waved, but kept marching toward her cabin.
“Zelda!” Hanna called, “Go get changed! You need to look like a Boy Scout!”
I frowned and asked Jesse, “What is she talking about?”
“No idea.”
The Gildas arrived in a clump, breathing heavily, all talking on top of each other.
I held up a hand. “What is going on?”
Everyone turned to Paloma.
“Okay,” she said, “We don’t have much time. Karen is finding a shirt and shorts and a Boy Scout baseball cap for you. She has extras in her cabin. That’s the first thing—run there! Go! We’ll explain the rest on the way back to camp!”
“But—”
Paloma put her hands on my shoulders. “Zelda. Do you trust us?”
“Of course.”
“Then change! It’s important!”
Three minutes later, I emerged from Karen’s cabin in my own hiking boots, a pair of ill-fitting olive shorts, and a button-up BSA khaki uniform shirt with patches sewn on the sleeve. I’d stuffed my hair into a messy bun and tucked it all under the baseball cap she’d given me. My pleas for Karen to explain had been met with tight lips and head shakes.
“My job was to get you the clothes,” was all she’d allow. “The Gildas would kill me if I told you the rest.”
“Okay,” I said, letting the screen door slam behind me. “I’m a Boy Scout. Now what?”
“I’m ready!” Jesse called, jogging up to meet us on Karen’s porch. He’d changed into an outfit that looked just like mine, only he also had a scarf cinched around his neck with a medal slider.
I grinned at him. “You’re very cute.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “So are—”
“We don’t have time for this!” Emily yelled, flapping her hands up and down.
“Come on—let’s go!” Sirena called. She and Emily grabbed my hands, and the pile of us hurried down the road.
I twisted around. “Are you coming, Karen?”
“You go on!” Karen called. “I’m not going to run, but I’ll get there as fast as I can!”
“Okay!” Instinctively, I turned to Paloma and pleaded as we ran, “Please tell me what’s happening!”
“Okay,” she huffed, “Varsity did not do your cold open.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t surprising news, but a wave of disappointment still washed over me.
“But hold on,” Paloma continued, “High Ropes Jake walked up to Nina Knightley before the show and handed her a copy of your script. He told her the whole story about Ben and you and you getting kicked off the team for hitting Ben and—”
“How do you know
this?” I interrupted.
“Nina told us,” Hanna exclaimed, punching the sky.
“What?” I spat.
“Hold on, Hanna,” Paloma said, whacking Hanna’s shoulder. “I’m not there yet! So, Nina Knightley goes up to the Pauls with the script and points and gestures and I don’t know what really happened because we were so far away, but they looked all flabbergasted and they made calm-down hands and she pointed some more and then Dion and Roger came up, and I think they must have confirmed High Ropes Jake’s story because she huffed and came over to us and asked us if we knew you.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“And we did!” Emily squealed.
I barked out a laugh. “Yes. Okay. Okay. Okay?”
“And then she said, ‘Can you get her over here after the show?’ and Karen showed up out of thin air and said she had an idea.”
Karen to the rescue. Again. “So that’s why I’m dressed as a Boy Scout.”
“Exactly. Because,” Paloma paused for effect, “we’re sneaking you in to meet Nina Knightley.”
The temperature in the Main Lodge was twenty degrees hotter than the air on the porch, and the difference made it feel like we walked through a wall made of warm air. With the Gildas and Jesse as cover, I kept my eyes on my boots and tried to move as masculinely as possible . . . whatever that was supposed to look like.
Laughter swelled in the audience, and I sneaked a look up. Darkness enveloped the crowd, but the stage lights shone bright on the players. My heart lurched, and I focused on my boots again. After this was all over, despite what had happened—or now, because of it—I was going to meet Nina Knightley. I had to remember that was way more important than any one improv show.
We slid into the back row and I looked around, trying to spot her. There was a row of men I didn’t recognize off to the side—probably the guys from Second City and iO and UCB—but Sirena touched my arm before I could find Nina.
“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” she hissed.
I glued my eyes to the floor.
“Thank you so much for coming and for being such a great crowd!” Brandon called out over the applause. “We’ve got some talent scouts and big-name alumni in the audience tonight, and it was an extra pleasure to perform for you!”
I closed my eyes, steadying myself for meeting my hero. What would I even say to her? Sirena elbowed me. I opened my eyes, and she nodded at the stage.
Paul DeLuca and Paul Paulsen were clapping and pointing at the Varsity team, who took an additional bow. Then the team jogged off, waving at the crowd. The Pauls took center stage.
“Well, well, well,” Paul DeLuca bellowed, a microphone in hand, “it’s hard to believe another fortnight of improv at RMTA is coming to a close. And what a performance! Give it up one more time for Varsity!” He clapped his hands against the microphone, which produced a low thudding sound. The applause peaked and died down. “Now, none of this would be possible without all of you coming back year after year, so give yourselves a round of applause, too!”
I exchanged sidelong glances with the Gildas. Less enthusiastic applause accompanied this microphone thudding. I rolled my eyes and resumed looking at the floor.
“RMTA is a great place with great, talented people,” Paul DeLuca continued.
I clenched my jaw.
“And we can’t wait to see you again next summer. We—”
“Paul, do you mind if I say a few words?”
I wasn’t looking at the speaker, but I’d know that voice anywhere. The room erupted into applause and cheering, and my head snapped up. There she was: Nina Knightley. Looking . . . like a regular person. I mean, she wore nice jeans, but they were still just jeans. And she’d paired them with what looked like a vintage RMTA T-shirt. Her long black hair was swept up on top of her head, held in place with two pencils. She could have been me.
“You know, I’ve missed this place,” Nina Knightley said, taking the microphone from Paul DeLuca. The crowd clapped and cheered. She crossed downstage, closer to the audience. “I came here four summers in a row and stayed in Gilda Radner each time.”
The Gildas whooped, and I couldn’t help but join in.
“And I only made Varsity my last year, but I’ll never forget that show. It felt . . . electric. I was invincible. Because I had a great coach, and I had the best teammates, and we all set each other up for success. Jane and the Pauls had a magical thing going on here. But we lost Jane the year after I left. I still feel the loss of her positivity and wisdom in my life. But I especially feel it coming back here tonight.”
The Pauls exchanged a glance, and Paul Paulsen shifted from one foot to the other.
“When Jane was here,” Nina continued, “things weren’t perfect. But if someone had made me a dead prostitute in a scene against my will, that sort of thing would have been shut down. We’re improvisers, not lemmings. ‘Yes, and’ has its limits. And it’s up to the adults to show young performers where those limits are.”
My heart started thudding in my chest.
“So, in honor of Jane, I’d like to be indulged. Pauls, if you would be so kind.”
They opened their mouths, but she cut them off. “I’d like this year’s Gildas to join me on stage.”
Polite applause filled the space, and we looked at one another in astonishment. But then I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees. “Go,” I hissed, mostly out of self-preservation. What if I was found out before I got a chance to meet her? “Get up there.”
The Gildas hesitated for one more moment, then followed each other up on stage to join Nina Knightley. Jesse slid over and put his arm around me.
“Hey,” I whispered. “I’m a boy, remember?”
“So?”
I grinned into my hands.
I sneaked a look up on stage and watched Nina count the Gildas. “One more . . .” she muttered. “Where’s Zelda?”
Now my eyes were dinner plates. What was she doing? I wasn’t supposed to be here. Didn’t she understand that?
“Now, Nina,” Paul DeLuca said, panic in his eyes, “I’m afraid she’s not here.” He turned to the crowd. “But let’s have a round of applause for all of our hardworking girls!”
The look Nina flashed Paul had enough venom to kill a mountain lion. He recoiled a step, and she turned to smile at the crowd. “You know, these days, all I get to do is promote the camp and donate an awful lot of money to it.” At the not-so-subtle threat to their already tenuous funding and good name, the Pauls backed off stage. Nina smiled. “But I really miss playing here. Gildas, would you like to join me in a Montage?”
The crowd burst into applause and the Gildas grinned, immediately clearing to neutral.
My heart lurched. What I would have given to be up there . . .
“To start us off, I need a suggestion for the animal that should have been sleepwalking in the cold open you didn’t see.”
There was a split second of confused audience silence. Then I couldn’t help myself. “A bear!”
Nina sent a slow smile in my direction. “Care to join us on stage?”
More than anything, I wanted to get up there, but what was going to happen if the Pauls found out I’d been sneaked back in?
“What do you need, an engraved invitation?” It was Karen. I whipped my head around. “She’s just threatened a huge line of their funding. She can do anything she wants. And she wants you. Go!”
I got to my feet. Jesse squeezed my hand and grinned. “Knock ’em dead!”
The applause grew as I leapt onto the stage.
“Hi, Zelda,” Nina said, smiling at me.
The audience gasped. I laughed and chucked my hat into the crowd. “Hi, Nina Knightley.”
“. . . I’m just saying, we don’t actually fly the plane anymore—the computers do it for us now,” I said. “If anyone knew how easy it was, they’d slash our enormous salaries! Or worse—we’d lose our jobs and be replaced with a bunch of
fourth graders!” I pretended to smoke a cigar. It was even hotter on stage than it had been in the crowd, but I hardly noticed the sweat trickling down my back.
“Still,” Nina demurred, brushing “ash” off her shoulder, “I think things have gotten a little extravagant around here, Captain. Not to mention cocky. Smoking in the cockpit? That’s against FAA regulations. And really. In an emergency, how would we be able to fly from this hot tub?”
The crowd laughed.
I groaned and mimed flicking water at her. “I suppose next you’ll be trying to get me to get rid of Ivan.”
Hanna jumped out, bouncing a small “ball.” “Are you ready for your midflight tennis lesson, Captain?”
I held for the laughter. “After the bubbles run out, Ivan. In the meantime, can you have Francois whip up that caviar pâté omelet I love so much?
Another round of laughter.
Nina frowned. “Captain, this is getting out of control. When we land, I’m going to have to report you.”
I waggled my eyebrows at her. “What if I get you your own Ivan?”
“Captain—”
“Personal barista?”
“I don’t—”
“Fleece jammies.”
“It’s just—”
“A kitten? You want a brand-new kitten every day of the week?”
Nina folded her arms. “What I’d like is a little respect for our passengers.”
“Fine.” I shrugged. “They can have kittens, too.”
The lights blacked out, and the crowd erupted.
Both the stage and house lights came on together and I scanned the crowd for Will as Nina and Sirena grabbed my hands for our curtain call. We bowed, the applause feeling like it would never end.
But someone turned music on over the PA system and the crowd eventually calmed down.
“Holy freaking ever-changing teen slang, Batman.” Nina grinned and gave me a high five. “You were on fire.”
I laughed. “You—I can’t believe you did this for me. For us. Thank you.” I turned to the Gildas as they gathered around Nina. “Thank you.” We all put our arms around each other, our heads touching.
“There’s a lot of crap out there,” Nina said, her arms around my and Sirena’s shoulders in the huddle, “and I’ve seen my fair share of it. But the way you get through it is together. Find your people. And then keep helping people up. It’s the only way. Got it?”
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