by Molly Booth
Ben actually laughed at that. “Okay. And Bee’s making out with Dave in a paddleboat?”
“Seriously,” I said.
“Did you actually see them making out?”
“No. But everyone else has.”
“Okay.” Ben sighed, like I was a seven-year-old camper throwing a tantrum. “Do you really think Donald would do that to you?”
Drunk thoughts swam through my brain.
“All Donald wants is to get laid.”
“True,” Ben replied, too calmly. “But he’s a good friend. Bros before…you know, whatever. I wouldn’t believe this till I saw it.”
“Fine.” I said. “So I’ll go see it.”
WHERE HAD EVERYONE gone?
It had been twenty minutes at least, and Margo and I had watched all of our friends vanish, in varying degrees of drunk and huffy.
As I bit into a crinkly golden marshmallow, a scene flashed in my mind: Hana rejecting Donald, him bursting into tears, and Hana, unsure what to do, then awkwardly comforting him. Or maybe he was shouting and being a dick. Either way, I’d let this go on long enough.
“Don’t you think melted chocolate kind of looks like poop?” Margo giggled at her s’more.
“I need to pee,” I announced, and stood up.
The crowd around the fire startled and looked up at me. Was I that loud?
“I need to go with her,” Margo also announced, with a hiccup.
“Ooookay,” Ellie offered.
We grabbed our beers and stumbled over the logs toward the trail. It was a good thing we were senior and kind of in charge, because otherwise we’d have been real weirdos.
“So are we looking for Hana and Donald?” Margo whispered to me, once we got on the trail. Luckily, the Maine sky had turned out tonight. The stars were breathtaking, if you weren’t worried your sister was currently getting Nice Guyed somewhere underneath them.
“We’re not looking for them,” I whispered. “But we’re not not looking for them.”
“Goooootcha.”
“I also do have to pee.”
“Me too!!” Margo giggled.
I wobbled, just a little. Two beers in. I really wasn’t good at holding my drinks. Both metaphorically and physically—I tripped and dumped a splash of beer into the dirt. Margo steadied me, and we found an adequate pee clearing in the shallow woods. As I peed, hugging a tree, I contemplated how, if it was daylight, definitely harbor boats could see us.
We hopped back on the trail, and I led the way in the opposite direction of the fire. Maybe now I was officially on the Hana hunt.
“Did you see Ben?” I whispered to Margo as we walked.
“Where?” She turned around. Had she been sneaking extra drinks? Maybe to impress Donald and his drunk boasting.
“No, not here.” I rolled my eyes. “At the campfire earlier. He was talking to Janine.” It came out darker than I intended.
“No!” Margo almost yelled. Margo and I both have loud voices normally. Give us a couple beers, and we’re belting a duet. “But isn’t Janine, like, fifteen?!”
I shushed and pulled her closer. “She is. But they were totally talking, for, like, half an hour.” She’d shoved him playfully and everything. But if I’d told Margo all of that, she’d know I’d been watching them, and not exactly 100 percent listening to her rehash her break up with Mike.
“Whoa,” Margo whispered. She reached an arm around my waist to steady herself. “But, like…maybe he was just talking to her. You know, Ben talks to a lot of people.”
Super astute. This girl was hammered. “Or maybe,” I whispered, “Ben’s trying to date someone on his maturity level.”
Margo giggled. “Noooo. I don’t believe it. Maybe she’s just got a crush on him, and he’s being nice. Ben’s really nice.”
“Marf,” I replied. Which wasn’t a word, but it was how I felt.
We’d almost looped halfway around the island by then, with no sight of Hana or Donald. We even stopped to check the kissing rock, but nothing. As we made our way back to the main trail, Margo’s arm over my shoulder, she asked me:
“Hey, Bee, have you asked them yet? Why they came back? Donald and Ben, I mean.”
I hesitated. Somewhere in my brain a warning signal flashed: SECRET, SECRET, SECRET. Right. Ben’s family moved. You will not say that, I briefed myself. You will say something else.
“I bet Donald’s dad made him come back,” I fake speculated. “So that he and John still look buddy-buddy.”
“Oooh.” Margo nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Yeah, and then Ben just followed, like a lost puppy.”
Margo liked this. “You think so?” She smiled. “Ben kind of does look like a puppy.”
“Oh yeah.” I steered us around a fallen tree in the path. “Ben wouldn’t have had the guts to come back alone.”
“Well, I probably wouldn’t come back without you or Hana,” Margo said. “Who’d want to be stuck here without our friends?” She swung her arm down and grabbed my hand, which made it easier to walk on the uneven path. We stopped to check another make-out spot, the kissing cove, and kind of walked in on Doug and Dave. Whoops.
“So sorry, guys!” I called back. Margo was just a giggle now. There was nothing else left of her.
Privately, I felt a teeny stab of jealousy. I remembered when I felt like Hana did, and clearly like Doug and Dave did. Like something exciting might happen at one of these parties, something that might change the next day.
Things were better this way, though. Friends were better. Just friends.
“How do you feel about it?” Margo asked.
“About what?” We were nearly to the other side again. Maybe Donald and Hana were already back at the campfire.
“About Ben coming back?”
It took everything in my physical power not to stop in my tracks. I mean, I knew Margo suspected…but did she actually know something? Had Ben talked to Donald and Claudia, and they’d talked to her?
“I wish he wasn’t here,” I said quickly. When I said it, I realized it was really true. If only he’d stayed away, like he was supposed to. Then maybe I could finally get rid of these feelings, these memories. “He’s just—”
A snap in the bushes cut me off. I could see a shadow looming. Someone was there.
Margo and I looked at each other. The shadow from the bush had a suspiciously floppy-haired head. Was Ben eavesdropping on us? Margo’s laughing face confirmed that she’d had the same thought. Her chin quivered from the effort of not giggling. I threw up my hands.
“Anyway,” I said, much louder than before. “What a great summer it would’ve been without Ben.”
“What?” Margo’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t picked up on the plan I’d just sent her telepathically: smoke Ben out.
“Yeah, I was really looking forward to it.” I sighed. “I mean, the last thing we need around here are childish employees.”
Margo still didn’t get it. “But what have you really got against him?” she demanded. “He sleeps late sometimes—”
“And is so disorganized, never remembers anything—”
“Well, yeah, but he always figures out the lessons in the moment—”
“He makes my life harder,” I said. “He’s immature, he follows Donald around like a puppy, he’s obnoxious and spineless, and never says what he’s thinking.”
“What?” Margo sounded confused, but I was barely paying attention.
The bush was practically shaking with anger. Any second now Ben would jump out and yell at me. I couldn’t wait.
“Okay, okay,” Margo’s voice got soft. She laid a hand on my shoulder. “I get it. You guys don’t…get along anymore. I mean, I still don’t get why, but…”
Too close, too close! Suddenly, I really hoped that wasn’t Ben in the bushes. I backpedaled so fast the boat nearly turned over.
“Let’s just get back to the campfire.” I looped my arm through hers. “I think we missed them.”
�
��Okay.” Margo looked over her shoulder. I pulled her forward but snuck a glance back myself. The bush looked like it knew my secrets. Fuck you, bush.
IT WAS FINALLY all happening: Ben and me. We were up far past our bedtimes, on purpose. And he’d stayed behind to help me, and now we were sitting on a blanket together, happily drinking warm beers. And we were laughing, and tipsy, and some kind of energy coiled in the space between us. Maybe just static from the scratchy blanket, but it felt like more.
But then he’d started ranting about how “fate is bullshit,” and I started to get the idea this was maybe not as romantic as I had begun to let myself think.
“Ben, what are you really trying to say?” I asked. “Like, you don’t believe in relationships, or what?” Wow! That sounded a lot bolder than I felt. Thanks, beer. He was dancing around something, and I wanted him to spit it out. No more dancing. Just spitting.
“Okay, fine.” He let out a big rush of breath before continuing. “It’s nothing like that. It’s like…my mom.”
“Your mom?” We were jumping all over the place.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “My mom, and my stepdad, Tim. He’s an asshole. He screams at my mom. And me. Not at the girls, anymore. Not since last winter.”
“Last winter?”
“When we showed up at your house.”
I swallowed. We’d never talked about that night.
He sighed again. “But yeah, Tim’s not my mom’s soulmate. He’s just a shitty guy. This wasn’t meant to happen to my mom, it just did.”
I waited for more, but he only scrunched up his face and rubbed his nose. The clearing went silent. That was the end of the confession. I’d known things weren’t perfect in Ben’s home, he’d alluded to it before, but he’d never laid it out for me like that, in plain terms.
I thought about him at home, with Nessie, Ava, and Layla. I thought about all of these years struggling to protect them. About how he’d never really dated anyone.
“I’m so, so sorry, Ben,” I said, trying not to let my voice catch. This wasn’t about me.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “My mom’s making a plan, so…”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Well, I mean, your parents have helped a lot already. Nik took my mom to a group, and she’s got a job now.”
I nodded, slowly putting everything together. That made sense. Mom never told me why their family had shown up that night, but after, that spring, I sometimes heard her whispering to Dad about seeing Colleen, Ben’s mom. And sometimes she’d gone over “to visit” two hours away.
“That sounds like them,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “They’re good people. Camp Dogberry’s always been the best place to escape.”
I felt my eyes widen. Of course. Since fifth grade, Ben had come here, every summer, for the whole summer.
Suddenly, I turned to face him. He copied me, but before he could ask why, I reached forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He felt so much bigger than I thought he would. Slowly, his arms circled my waist. My chin hovered awkwardly, but then I relaxed and rested it between his neck and shoulder. We were locked, chests pressing up against each other.
After a few moments, we both pulled back, but paused with our faces close.
His brown eyes twinkled, his nose an inch from mine, his lips—
“Do you think…” he began, his breath alighting on my skin. “Do you think at some point tonight we’re going to kiss?”
I HAD ONE mission for the island party: ask Claudia to hang out. Slow, yes, but I liked Claudia. I didn’t want this to be a drunk hookup that got awkward in the morning.
Down at the waterfront, everyone waited for the rest of the ringers to show up. Claudia wore a black tank top, shorts, and high-top sneakers. She looked chic as fuck.
Once we got to the island, I had to admit, it felt good to be outside, partying around a fire, instead of cramped into a sorority house or dorm room or apartment. Some part of me filed it away—I could tell my New York friends about drinking under the stars, like it had been romantic, and then I’d tell them about the girl.
It was hard to get close to Claudia at one of these things. She and Ben were Donald’s lackies. I didn’t hold that against her though, because everyone thought Donald shat gold. I guess that’s what happens when you’re insanely rich your entire life.
Donald finally disappeared. This is it, I thought.
Drinking makes me nervous, but you have to drink at a party. I had a couple beers, and then jitters crept into my legs. I steadied myself and walked over to Claudia and asked for a beer. She seemed out of it though, annoyed, and I chickened out and sat back down.
“Where’re your balls now?” Bobby snickered.
“Wanna go for a walk?” Connie asked.
I glanced at Claudia. Ben had swooped back in. So why not? We ditched Bobby and hopped on the trail. Connie peered around at the bushes and trees.
“Do you see Donald and Hana?” she asked.
“Who cares?” Gross. My older brother making a move on a vulnerable sixteen-year-old. Pathetic, but unsurprising. Like father, like son.
“I don’t think she’s going to go out with him,” she continued. “If it makes you feel better. Bee and Margo got really weird when I told them about it earlier.”
I nodded. That actually did make me feel better. Shot down by a high schooler was good ammo for the fall, if Donald pulled any crap at Yale. I wouldn’t even have to make it up.
About halfway around the trail, we spotted Bobby.
“Guys!” He ran up in the dark.
“Not a guy,” Connie grumbled.
“Claudia,” Bobby said, breathless. Dude was not in shape. “I bumped into Claudia, and then I saw her head down to the rocks.”
“She’s alone?”
“Definitely. We almost peed on each other.”
Connie and I looked at each other.
“Accidentally,” Bobby clarified.
“Gotcha.”
“Make your move, dude!” He punched my shoulder.
Fuck. He was right. This was my moment. Man up.
“Thanks.” I clapped his shoulder and took off in Claudia’s direction. My heart drummed in my chest, my ears. I rounded a corner, pushed through a couple bushes and out into moonlight, and then I saw her, down on the flat “kissing rock” (camp was so cringeworthy) overlooking the harbor. She sat with her knees pulled into her chest. She’d put on a camp sweatshirt.
“Hey! Claudia!” I jumped down the small, steep trail.
She turned her head. “Oh, John, hey.”
She made no move to stand up, so I sat down next to her.
“What’s up?”
She stared out at the water.
“Sucky night,” she said, finally.
“That…sucks,” I said. Not the smoothest.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m just trying to cool down.”
I glanced at her. She wasn’t lying. Her jaw clenched tightly. Something was really pissing her off. This was why I liked Claudia—she was real, like a real person. Not like other girls, who pretend like everything’s fine, and then flip out at you.
“Sorry,” I said, scooted a little closer. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a set of strings. “Knots?”
She looked at my outstretched hand and actually smiled. “Yeah, thanks.” She grabbed the black strings and began folding them, pushing, pulling until she had a fish hook. Straightforward, perfectly done.
“This helps,” she said. But not enough. Her jawline still looked like the Hulk. “So how’s your night?”
I thought about it. “Fine,” I said. “But I did want to ask you a question.”
“Okay, shoot,” she said. She started on a monkey’s paw.
“Do you want to, like, hang out sometime?”
She paused. “Like, how?”
A fair, vague question. She was good. I tried: “Like, on the weekend? Not at camp?” I hoped she got the message. I co
uldn’t go further than that without feeling like I was handing her a bat to bust my nuts.
“Do you mean like a date?” she asked, still staring at the string. I was super affronted. That sounded so old school. Date. It was pretty cute, though.
“Like, hanging out,” I clarified.
She paused again, then nodded. Phew. Hard part over with. But then came something worse: silence. Not actual silence, because the small waves broke softly on the rocks in front of us. I counted waves instead of seconds: One…two…three…
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
“Really?” I said.
Someone else’s voice jumped out. “Hey, friends, what’s going on?”
Claudia freaked and shoved the rope back into my hands.
I WATCHED BEE and Margo go, then stepped out of the bush, prickled and dazed.
Bee. Talking to Margo. About me. Behind my back.
Well, technically, in front of a bush, but whatever.
Cool. Real cool. I loved parties.
I kicked a pebble. Camp Dogberry was really something else. You stop to pee and get to hear all your worst qualities listed systematically. Bee’s words echoed all tinny in my head: childish, disorganized, immature, obnoxious, spineless, puppy-like.
I wish he wasn’t here.
I shivered. So, the moment with the boats, the bantering over starting the fire…I was a moron. None of that meant anything. I breathed in and out.
It’s fine. You knew she didn’t like you, Ben, you just let yourself get carried away for an hour. That’s nothing after getting carried away every summer for eight years.
I would walk back to the campfire, but from the other direction. I didn’t want Bee to think I’d overheard their conversation.
Or did I?
I stood there in the dark, unable to decide.
Goddamn it. Immature? A terrible employee? I mean, I was late to morning meeting a lot. And yeah, I was never great at planning ahead. And sometimes I forgot things, like deodorant or my sleeping bag. And okay, one summer I forgot pants. Just all my pants.
Did she really think I’d just do whatever Donald did?