“I saw something kinda similar to Rachelle,” a boy near Maya smiles. “But instead of words, your tears washed through a swamp and restored cleanliness where there had once been stagnation.”
And it continues. One person after another, sharing words, verses, song lyrics, and pictures God had given them. For me. My throat tightens as I try to take it all in.
“I was given a verse,” Maya opens her phone. “It was in my Bible reading this morning . . . Isaiah 58: 6 ‘Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?’” She looks back up from her Bible app, “Obviously, you have experienced this—particularly in the last week. But, in the theme of what everyone else has been saying, God will also use you to accomplish these acts of freedom.”
“Thank you,” I whisper again.
Those two words fall so short. So short in capturing how grateful I am for each person around me.
“I’m gonna be honest, Tarni,” Amias shakes his head. “It took me a long time to be certain this was for you. I guess because . . . well, I struggled to pick one thing.”
Everyone else laughs and nudges the person closest to them. I grin at him, my face heating.
“You know me, chained to the music. So . . . this Andrew Peterson song is what I think the Father wants you to hear,” he sets his phone on the grass and presses play.
I shut my eyes, listening to the familiar artist and unfamiliar song. Or maybe it is familiar, but I’ve never heard it like this before.
“You are not alone
I will always be with you
Even to the end
You don’t have to work so hard
You can rest easy
You don’t have to prove yourself
You’re already mine
You don’t have to hide your heart
I already love you
I hold it in mine
So you can rest easy.”
Rest easy. Rest easy. Over and over again. My heart swells with the music. “I already love you . . . So you can rest easy.” I reach for Amias’s hands, and he clasps them tightly.
“I care for you a lot, Seabird,” he whispers. “You have a beautiful heart and a beautiful mind. And if you ever worry about annoying me, I will hug you until sense gets back into that brilliant head of yours.”
I laugh. I wipe my tears and squeeze Amias’s fingers.
“Let’s all gather around and pray,” Miss Jan moves forward, setting her hand on my back.
Warm hands grasp my shoulders, my back, my head, my arms. Amias strokes my hands with his thumbs. Person after person speaks blessing, love, and hope over me. And I am overwhelmed by the urge to cry. I lean my head against Genevieve as she smooths my hair.
Every word spoken over me dives deep into my soul. They flow through my body, soothing the aches left by fear. And at that moment, I’m ready. I’m ready to go back to Africa. I have these words to wear on my heart and in my soul, and I am willing to accomplish the work waiting for me.
Miss Jan finishes praying, and we all straighten.
“Thank you, everyone,” I smile around the circle.
Genevieve nods, squeezing my shoulder. Amias pulls me into a hug, and I release a deep breath.
“Thank you,” I whisper again.
“Of course.”
After another moment, I smirk, “It’s your turn, you know.”
“Oh, right!” He pulls back.
We laugh. I swap spots, retreating into the circling crowd.
And we do it all over again. Except this time, I’m watching him squirm and then look around in awe as we share. His shocked expression makes me want to laugh. I smile at him through it all, unable to keep my eyes off of him.
“You mean so much to me, Amias Hoffman,” I rub my flushed cheeks, wishing everyone else would stop looking at me like that. “And though you believe your music to be insignificant, I hear God’s voice in yours. And as it says in Isaiah 55, ‘So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.’ Every word you write and say in the Spirit of God is a word written and spoken with purpose.”
Amias pulls me close, wrapping his arm around me, and I knit my hand in his. Everyone gathers around him and prays again.
We finish and scramble to our feet. Several of Amias’s friends pull him into rough hugs. I smile fondly. And yelp when Maya, Rachelle, and Genevieve leap on me.
“We love you, Tarni Bird!” Maya cheers to the sky.
I laugh, nearly toppling under their enthusiasm, “I love you too!”
Amias chuckles, and I look up. I free myself from my friends, pulling him into another hug. Several whistles pierce the moment.
“Shut up,” Amias and I say as one.
More laughter, but our friends relent. Amias releases a deep breath.
“Thank you,” he says, repeating me from earlier.
“Uh-huh,” I smile up at him, choosing the more original option.
The rest of the group walks inside, but Amias and I keep standing in the grass. He pulls back and takes my hand.
“I don’t want to leave,” he gazes up at the sky. “But, I’m finally prepared to.”
“Me too,” I say in a hushed voice.
He looks back at me, “Long-distance for you and me, huh?”
“Fun times,” I drawl.
“We’ll make it fun,” he cuffs the side of my head. “Now, come on. Let’s get some dinner. Being honored makes you hungry.”
I laugh at him and start moving forward when my pocket buzzes. I frown, pull my phone out of my pocket, and nearly drop it.
Everly.
“I’ll wait inside,” Amias squeezes my shoulder. “Take as long as you need.”
I take a deep breath as he walks away. Lord, give me strength . . .
I answer the FaceTime call. For a moment, I stare at the black screen. Then Everly’s face appears on my phone, pale and smiling shakily.
“Hey, Tarn,” she takes a deep breath. “How have you been?”
“Better. Much, much better. How are you?” I clear my throat.
“All right.”
We fall silent. I walk towards one of the outdoor couches.
“I am . . . sorry, Tarni,” Everly says in a small voice.
“Me too,” I sit down, running a hand through my hair. “I am really sorry.”
We smile at each other for a moment. Then burst out laughing. I lean my head against the couch with a groan.
“Why have we always been like this?” Everly’s chuckle hitches. “I mean, we’ll fight or not talk, but the moment we reconnect -.”
“I know,” I shake my head. “But really. Are you well?”
“I’ve been overwhelmed. Since we last called . . . When was that? Three or four months ago? Anyway, it’s been hard readjusting. And of course, dealing with the past has also been . . .”
“Yes, I understand. And Everly, if you need a little more distance between us and still want to end our friendship -.”
“No,” Everly fusses with her hair. “No, Tarni, forgive me. I-I was so hurt and angry, I was ready to blame everyone who had been a part of those years. I never thought you were a victim like me.”
“It’s all right. I blamed myself too,” I adjust my glasses.
“We did not react healthily. Either of us.”
“Nor could we be expected to in such circumstances. Our ‘big brother’ betrayed us. How many times . . . did Luke?”
“Many,” Everly hugs herself.
“He approached me three times, but never touched me. Did he . . . ?” I swallow hard.
“No, no, thank the Lord.”
“Good. Have you . . . stayed in touch with Adam, or are you distancing yourself from all of them?”
“I’ve talked with Adam a few times,” Everly hesitates. “But he’s too much like Luke, Tarni
. Or rather, how Luke used to be. I do not fear him like I fear his brother, but he judges without self-reflection.”
I try to suppress the sting her words bring. Adam truly never cared about me . . .
“How about you and Adam? I mean, I saw he has a girlfriend,” Everly raises her eyebrows.
“He cut off our friendship the same night you texted me,” I blow out a breath. “I see now how much he hurt me, so I don’t want to change things. But it is still hard. He used to mean so much to me, and he only saw me as a companion of convenience.”
“I am sorry.”
“Right back atcha,” I smile. “But, um, I have new friends. And a . . . well -.”
“Boyfriend?” Everly’s smile echoed me.
“I am fourteen. That’s too young to be truly . . . dating. But we like each other and have said so.”
“Aha. Can I meet him?”
I can’t hold back a laugh, “You can meet all my friends. If you want.”
“Yes! Great. Also, when can we meet up in person? This is weird.”
And still laughing, talking animatedly, I walk back into the lounge area. This is bizarre. And different. And I don’t think I will recover from the wounds our years together caused for a while. I think, while introducing Everly to my roommates and the triplets and Amias. But this . . . is good. I smile down at my phone screen, seeing my friends gathered between glass and continents.
I take a screenshot. To new seasons with better friends. And better me.
:•─.•─:•─.•─:•☾☼☽•:─•.─•:─•.─•:
I walk down the cold beach, arm-in-arm with Maya. Moments after dinner, Jeff announced another campfire night out of the blue. As we are teenagers from Africa—where you, generally speaking, cannot get good marshmallows or marshmallows at all—, this was the best idea ever heard. Not that I disagree.
“It’s so annoying,” Maya pouts, shuffling sand under her feet. “You girls all have admiring gentlemen, but I’m left alone.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Brynn comes up behind us.
She throws her arm over Maya’s shoulders with a dramatic sigh. And takes a bite of her roll, stolen from the dining hall.
“I’m in the same boat.”
“Great,” Maya snorts. “At least two of us can show off to ‘All the Single Ladies.’”
“My, my, my, that is not a Bible song, devil child,” Brynn laughs, copying a Southern accent.
“You know I’m from the South, right?” Maya raises her eyebrows at Brynn. “That was a horrible accent.”
“You’re from the South?” Brynn’s roll freezes halfway to her mouth.
“Atlanta, Georgia, baby,” Maya holds up a peace sign and trips over a bump in the pavement.
I snort, and my roommate sniffs, whipping her blonde ponytail at my face.
“You don’t have an accent,” Brynn squints as we step up to the campfire gathering.
“I’ve lived in Uganda since I was ten months old. You bet any accent I have only appears when I talk to my grandma,” Maya waves and makes a beeline for an already crowded beach chair.
Her friends laugh as she tries to squeeze in with them.
“Tarni! Over here!” I look across the roaring fire and spot Amias and Genevieve on the sand.
I grin and hurry over, plopping between them, “Hi.”
“Hey,” Amias slides his arm around me.
“Where were you?” Genevieve asks.
“Oh, Lena wanted to talk about my character in the skit,” I shake my head. “She is a dedicated director.”
“Rachelle said she always gets like this with a big project,” Amias gestures to the pair of friends a few chairs away from us.
“I swear, they are the last people I would expect to be best friends,” Genevieve watches them talk with their larger friend group. “I mean, when they aren’t together, they are with totally opposite groups.”
“It’s like us roommates,” I nod at Maya. “If we hadn’t been put in the same bungalow, we wouldn’t have become close.”
“And even though y’all are close with Drew and Brynn, I’m not. And only Maya has gotten to know Kelly,” Genevieve brushes sand off her shorts.
“Camp—or rather, big group dynamics—are always so interesting,” Amias eyes the table of s’more fixings.
“They certainly are,” I rest my head on his shoulder.
He smiles at me, and Genevieve sighs.
“You guys are so cute, it makes me sad,” she props her face on her hand.
“Soeng-Su is right over there,” I point with my chin.
She studies him for a moment, “Yeah, but he and I both know our ‘thing’ is not going to last past camp. So, it’s pretty pointless.”
“Sad.”
“Nah,” she shrugs. “Imma get some s’more things. You guys want some too?”
“Sure,” I glance at Amias.
He nods, “Thanks, Genevieve.”
“No prob,” she walks towards the table.
Amias squeezes my shoulder. We’re quiet for several moments, looking around at our camp friends and crew. The cold sand presses against my feet and legs. While the roaring flames make my face feel like it’s on fire, too.
“We’re going to leave so soon,” I whisper. “And you haven’t got me that coffee yet.”
“Ah, that’s right. I promise I’ll take you before camp ends,” he smiles as Genevieve walks back over with the supplies.
“Don’t anyone dare talk about camp ending,” Genevieve shakes one of the pokers at him.
Amias grabs it before she can jab him, “Precise grammar with Genevieve.”
“Shut up.”
I laugh, taking the other poker.
“Do you want me to make yours again?” Amias raises his eyebrows.
“Nah. I’ll just watch you and hope for the best,” I spear a marshmallow on the end of my stick.
Genevieve salutes me, “I see we have another s’more ‘winging it’ champion.”
“I’m pretty sure I am always the champion of ‘winging it.’”
“Tarni,” Amias gives me a dubious look, “you overthink everything.”
“True. I guess I am the champion of ‘I will plan everything out, but end up winging it all and give myself intense anxiety.’”
My friends laugh. We cook our s’mores, get sticky, and laugh when Genevieve nearly burns herself with a poker. After that, she retreats, leaving Amias and me to watch the flames. I take a deep breath of smoke and burnt sugar and smile up at Amias.
“You know, the last campfire was when I realized I liked you.”
“Really?” He nods at the sky. “I knew when I taught you four-square.”
“Oh?” My eyes widen.
“Mhm. Your eyes were sparkling, and for the first time, I watched you let down your shield. I was a goner after that,” he strokes my hand.
“I probably started liking you before the campfire, but I was in intense denial,” I sheepishly grin at my past self.
“That does sound like you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I meant you when you first got here, of course.”
“Whatever.”
Amias shakes his head with a laugh, “Oh, Seabird. What am I going to do without you around?”
“Call me at least weekly,” my heart aches at the thought of leaving. “Maybe even more often than that.”
“Deal.”
And so we keep our arms around each other, laughing at our friends’ antics. Drew perches a stuffed sloth on his shoulder while Kelly shakes her head at him. Genevieve and Maya sing Christmas carols for no reason. And once again, I feel the burning, aching moment sink into my heart.
I want it to stay.
But this time, I’m not afraid.
Chapter Thirteen: For a Moment
I skip down the pavement of Marathon, Amias’s hand in mine. The smell of “Summer” waves between us. Or at least, that’s what my perfume bottle claimed when I sprayed it on earlier.
Days have passed in streaks of golden warmth and growth. Each moment feels eternal and fading at the same time. But the moments, the hours, the days, do fade.
It’s the last day before camp ends.
But it’s morning. I have rehearsals through most of the afternoon. My parents, grandparents, and Koa are arriving in a few hours. And basically, I refuse to believe I’m leaving until tomorrow. I have enough going on.
“It took you long enough to make right your bribe,” I frown at Amias.
“I know,” he fusses with his blue shirt. “But I was saving it for when you needed to get out of the resort.”
Boys do not understand how easy they have it. I muse, admiring Amias’s unusually smart collared-tee and jeans.
When Amias told me to dress up for our coffee, I went into a mild panic as I had only brought two dressy outfits with me. Thankfully, Abi enlisted Rachelle’s help (who though several years older, was about my size) and got me a cute white romper. And with a team of makeup and hair artists, I was ready with deceptive promptness.
“Why do I need to get out of the resort?” I fuss with my tassel earrings.
“Because you have a stressful afternoon ahead,” Amias leads me towards a small cafe. “Preparing for the skit, talking to your parents, performing the skit, sharing your poem -.”
“I get the idea,” I puff out my cheeks as he opens the door for me.
“And now I will stop talking about it. I can’t wait to meet your family.”
“And I can’t wait to meet yours, though I am scared half to death about it,” I wave to the waitress at the counter.
“Ah, don’t be. They will love you.”
We walk up to the counter, order our coffees, and walk to a table by the window.
“I know, I’m silly,” I sit down. “But I mean, we are just kids. I don’t want our parents to think we’re being immature or something. Like . . . we aren’t dating. We’re just -.”
“It’s not hard to explain, Tarni. We like each other, yes. We are serious about each other, yes. But we are also best friends,” Amias scratches the back of his neck. “I think long-distance will be a gift for us. Our parents might not be as comfortable with how serious we are if we lived in the same city.”
“Yeah,” I blow out a breath.
We fall silent.
“Listen to me,” Amias chuckles. “Trying to be upbeat about leaving you.”
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