by Molly Booth
Well, you did feel like you could reapply once Donald told you he was coming back.
Fuck you, self, it was also because of the move.
Did you even really want an internship, or were you just afraid you wouldn’t get one?
You totally are spineless.
Shuuuuuut uuuuuuup.
I’d changed. Didn’t she know I’d done a whole year at college? I’d never missed a class, had aced my work, and spent every waking hour studying. Not that she’d heard about any of that, I guess. Because we weren’t friends anymore.
It shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise that she felt this way. I knew things were bad between us. I knew that I might’ve done something wrong that night. The problem was, I didn’t know what it was.
Or maybe this was how she’d felt all along. I mean, from that conversation, it sounded like Margo didn’t know anything about that night last summer, and Bee and Margo were close. So the only logical explanation was that Bee super regretted what had happened, and she was horrifically embarrassed, and she didn’t want anyone to know.
I was so sick of guessing. Would I ever actually know the truth?
Whatever the case, clearly, she hated me, and she never wanted to kiss me again, maybe she never had. I shouldn’t have come back here, with the harbor and the trails and the drama and the stars so gorgeous they almost reminded me of Bee.
When I got back to the campfire none of my friends were there. I grabbed another beer and sat down to discuss Capture the Flag strategies with Dave. I laid out a tentative plan for this year.
“Isn’t that against the rules?” he whispered, concerned.
“Do you want to play by the rules, or do you want to win?” I whispered back darkly.
He looked confused. “Both?”
“Wrong. Answer.”
“We’re baaaaack, losers!” Donald had appeared on the other side of the fire. As my eyes adjusted, Margo and Hana materialized next to him. Where was Claudia? And—
“Where’s Bee?” I called out. Shit. This second beer had gone straight to my mouth.
“She’s coming!” Margo assured me, with a giddy smile.
I shook my head, stood up, and walked across the campfire area. Like I figured, Donald wasn’t holding Hana’s hand, so it looked to me like Claudia was just being her usual paranoid self. Not that she didn’t have good reasons, but this was camp, not school, and nobody here was looking to make her miserable. That settled in my mind, I made a decision.
“I think I wanna go,” I said.
“What?” Donald laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m tired,” I explained, as if that had ever been a good enough reason for Donald. When I said it, Margo looked at me, then away quickly. Had she seen me on the way back? Did she know I’d heard their conversation?
“You’re not tired.” Donald shook his head. “It’s, like, ten thirty. Why do you want to go?”
“Look, I just don’t want to deal with Bee right—”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
I turned around, and there she was, illuminated by the fire, casting a ten-foot shadow, the flames’ light shimmering across her cheekbones. Goddamn it.
Focus, Ben, she just trashed you.
SO I HAD bruised Ben’s ego. Serves him right, I thought, for snooping on our conversation. I couldn’t help it—my gaze flickered over to him, and his eyes flashed hurt back at me.
Whatever.
“Donald”—I turned and addressed him—“you asked me to get Claudia.” I stepped aside and revealed Claudia, who was scowling powerfully. “I found her sitting on the rocks, sulking.” I left out with John. Something weird was going on there, but we’d left him and his buddies on the trail. No need to make any of this more complicated.
“Oh, come on!” Claudia cried, startling all of us. “I was not sulking!”
“You were hunched over on the rocks,” I pointed out. “And you had a big pouty face on.”
“Can everyone just leave me alone?” she asked loudly. “I just want to get off the island.” Had everyone had too much to drink? Wasn’t Ben supposed to be keeping track of this? Incompetent.
Hana bit her lip and glanced at me.
“Me too,” Ben interjected. “I want to go to bed.” He stood not quite upright, leaning to the left. So much for teaching me how to drink.
“All right, all right.” Donald tried to put an arm around Claudia, but she shrugged him off. Tipsy was not a good look on her. I glanced at Hana, whose forehead pinched in worry. All the other counselors watched us like we were onstage. Which, I guess, we kind of were up here, front lit by the fire.
“Maybe bed isn’t a bad idea,” I said quickly. “Ben, can you take Claudia—”
“Got it.” Ben nodded at me and strode toward her. I guess he wasn’t so incompetent, under direct orders. I felt warmth spread in my cheeks, but it wasn’t the beer or the fire. It was that feeling that I could count on Ben, even when we were at odds, in moments like these.
“No, no, no, no, no, no. No.” We froze. Donald pushed Ben away from Claudia. “No sleep till kissing!”
Our audience erupted in laughter. Ben threw up his hands. Margo giggled so hard she sputtered her sip of beer. But one of us still wasn’t having it.
“Who’s kissing, Donald?” Claudia snapped.
“You’re doing the kissing, dummy.” Donald rolled his eyes and held out his free hand to her. Claudia didn’t move.
“I don’t think she wants to kiss you,” Margo whispered loudly. More laughter, including Margo, cracking up at her own joke. I shushed her.
“I don’t want to kiss her, either,” Donald whispered loudly back. “She’s going to kiss”—he pointed to my sister—“Hana.”
At Hana’s name, Claudia’s whole body changed. Her arms uncrossed, her jaw unclenched. She panicked, looking at Donald quickly, then Hana, who braved a small smile. Donald dropped his beer in the dirt, thunk. He grabbed Hana’s hand first, then Claudia’s, and brought them together.
“Hi,” Hana whispered. I swooned at the cuteness, just a little.
“It’s official: You two totally like each other! You both told me!!” Donald proclaimed giddily. “Now, kiss! Or something.”
Hana stood there, hand clasped in Claudia’s, her smile soft and hopeful. Claudia, meanwhile, looked like she’d been punched in the brain.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Donald started a chant, Margo immediately caught it, and soon everyone was chanting and clapping. The strangest repeat-after-me song ever. Claudia looked up, suddenly realizing what was happening, and stared at the mass of chanting weirdos with absolute terror. Hana registered Claudia’s alarm, and the bubble popped. She went from thrilled to seriously uncomfortable in a snap.
I grabbed them both and ushered them toward the trail, away from the fire, to an “Aaaaww!” from the disappointed chanters. The new couple both looked at me, dazed, waiting for instruction.
“The kissing rock”—I nodded down the trail—“has a really lovely view of the harbor.”
“Ooooh.” Hana smiled.
She glanced shyly at Claudia, who nodded in reply, still looking like a moose in headlights.
“Thanks, Bee,” Hana said, and without another word or look, took Claudia’s hand and led her down the trail.
“No problem!” I called after, and watched them float off into the darkness. A couple whistles and hoots came from the campfire behind me, but it didn’t seem like they could hear it. I’d never seen Hana look at someone like she’d looked at Claudia. Well, I’d never seen her look at someone that way and have them looking back. Their connection sparked visibly in the dark air.
Without warning, tears welled in my eyes.
“You gonna keep creeping on your sister?” Donald shouted to me.
I pulled down my sweatshirt sleeve, wiped at my eyes, and walked back to the campfire.
“It’s just nice to see something actually working out,” I said, and sat down directly across from Ben.
> IT DIDN’T REALLY matter that the rock had a nice view. The only thing that mattered was the kissing part.
Kissing Claudia was like ascending a flight of stairs that seem to go on forever—every height you reach, you realize there’s more. It kind of hurts, but you keep going because you know, you feel, that there’s something magical at the top.
Claudia
Kissing Hana was everything I’d ever wanted.
Hana
Our lips touched, again, and again, and again. Sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes barely brushing. My head reeled, softly. I stroked her cheek, her neck, under her ears. One of her arms wrapped around my waist, and it fit perfectly.
Claudia
I glanced up toward the trail, the fire pit in the distance. I tried not to worry about if anyone could see us. Because this incredible, beautiful person was kissing me like her life depended on it, and I’d never kissed like this before.
I wondered if she had.
Hana
Lips, hands, lips, eyes, skin. Claudia, Claudia, Claudia.
Claudia
Eventually, I pulled back. When I did, she looked confused, and kind of dizzy. I tried not to smile at how cute she was.
“We should probably go back up,” I whispered. My fingers tentatively reached out to touch her cheek. She brought her hand up, placed it on top of mine, and closed her eyes. I didn’t know what to do.
Hana
I closed my eyes, took a breath, pulled myself together. I really wanted to keep falling apart, with her, in this new way.
“If we have to.” I sighed and looked at her. She smiled. Her smile was so genuine. I felt like I knew everything behind that smile. I realized I trusted it.
I took her hand in mine as we stood up. We made our way back to the fire pit. Right before we got within earshot of the rest of them, I whispered, “To be continued?”
Claudia
Hana asking me that was a joke. But I nodded at her. “To be continued.”
Would I really get to touch her again? Would I get to keep touching her? Was this summer going to be the best summer of my entire life?
When we sat back down, I could’ve sworn the fire danced just a little higher.
“ANOTHER HAPPY COUPLE, brought together by me!” Donald crowed.
“You’re praaaactically cupid!” Margo singsonged.
I rolled my eyes but laughed, too. It was late—we were on our way down to the dock for departure. Claudia and Hana were walking slightly ahead of the group, so blissfully into each other that they couldn’t hear the group of tipsy, tired counselors fumbling behind them.
“Another couple?” Ben asked Donald. “Pretty sure this is your first success. Unless you count Kangaroo Court.”
Kangaroo Court was our mock trial performance game at Camp Dogberry. Raphael, our improv teacher and my favorite person ever, ran it. We let the campers put the counselors “on trial” for silly things, like not wearing enough sunscreen (Margo), or singing loudly and badly in the shower every morning (Donald).
Raphael also liked to perform fake weddings at Kangaroo Court. He married Mom and Dad last year, and Donald had convinced him to marry Francis and Sam, a couple of older counselors, a few years ago.
“Well, first of all, I do count Kangaroo Court,” Donald said over his shoulder. “But I have a real couple success rate, too.” He turned, and flashed his flashlight into Ben’s eyes.
“Hey! Ow! What?”
“You and Bee, four years ago, second-year CITs?”
I snorted.
“That really doesn’t count,” Ben said. Why did that make me want to smack him?
“Oh, that magical summer,” Donald sighed. “When you two couldn’t get enough of each other.”
“Ooooh! Right!” Margo wrapped an arm around me. Then something horrific dawned on her: “Hey, did you guys kiiiss? Were you first kisses??”
Ack. “No,” I said firmly. “We didn’t do anything. It was just one of Donald’s stupid schemes.”
“But…” Margo’s face screwed up in tipsy thought. “You were his girlfriend, right?”
“She was,” Ben interjected, glancing over his shoulder at us. “For three entire days.” I glared at him. “And we slow danced,” he continued. “At the dance party that year.”
“Ooooh!” Margo giggled. “Scandalous!”
I couldn’t believe Ben. I took a breath and reminded myself that I promised my parents I wasn’t going to murder him.
Buuut you only said you wouldn’t drown him, I realized. You could still murder him in other ways.
“If I remember correctly, I dumped you during that slow dance.” I settled for death by humiliation.
“Right,” he agreed, too easily. “For being childish, obnoxious, and spineless.”
Crap. My own words from earlier echoed back at me. Ridiculous, eavesdropping Ben. My eyes rolled and my cheeks burned all at once. Great, Bee, you brought this completely on yourself, vis-à -vis the most absurd boy in the world.
“But hey,” he continued. “I don’t think that actually counts, either—can you even dump someone if you weren’t technically dating them?”
“You totally can.” Donald sighed and shook his head. “She’s got you there, bro.”
“Hey, Ben.” Margo reached out a hand. “You just found out you were dumped four years ago. Do you need anything? Ice cream? A hug?”
And now we were laughing again. I couldn’t decide if I was fine with all of this, or if I wanted to set myself on fire. And because this was still an enormous joke, everyone quickly grabbed paddleboats and left me with two options: 1. Hop in the moping boat, John’s vessel, or 2. Enjoy a paddle for two with Ben.
“Jerks!” Ben shouted at the other four, as they pulled away from the dock.
I stomped into the front seat. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He looked at my outstretched hand, sighed, and took it. Shaking violently, he stepped forward, then collapsed awkwardly next to me.
“Thanks,” he muttered, righting himself.
“No problem.”
As we chugged away from the dock, my right hand buzzed on the steering handle. I told it to stop. It kind of listened. I felt Ben to my right, maybe looking at me. A small silence passed over us, and I almost felt something reset in my chest. The boat, the water, the island, what if last summer had all been a dream—
But by the time we reached the Dogberry shore, we were arguing again.
“Capture the Flag is always at the end of the week,” Ben complained.
“I know,” I said as I steered us toward the hazy outline of the beach. “But it’s always a nightmare to do that the same morning the session checks out.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. It’s a done deal,” I said. “My parents asked me to set the events schedule for the summer, and I did. Capture the Flag is on a Wednesday.” I hopped out of the boat into the knee-deep water and pulled the boat in closer.
“But I’m the sports leader!” he complained, still sitting in the passenger seat. “Shouldn’t I get a say in this?”
“Capture the Flag isn’t a sport,” I snapped. “Can you get out of the boat, please?” He grumbled and climbed, very slowly, onto the dock. I was regretting any and all of this. Tonight, the last week, last summer, every summer leading up to that…
All the counselors had pulled in and were helping each other stow their boats back on the racks. Margo and Donald helped with ours. John and co. had already disappeared. The younger counselors wandered off toward their cabins, promising they’d hydrate. I looked for Hana and Claudia, and saw them lingering in the water. Was it possible to enjoy kissing with your feet that cold?
Slowly, I became aware that Ben was still muttering about Capture the Flag, sort of directed at me. I decided to ignore it on purpose now.
“You know.” Donald came up behind me and swung an arm around my shoulders. “It kind of seems like you two aren’t in love anym
ore.”
That brought Ben up short. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Tragedy.” I laughed. “I guess I’ll give up. I’ll never love again.” Kind of pleased with how that sounded so over it. I was. I was so over it.
“Never?” Donald turned to me, his face close to mine. Alcohol breath. I inched back a little.
“Please,” I sighed, in spite of myself. “The potential dudes at my school were the worst. Maybe I’ll have better luck in college.”
I thought I could feel Ben’s eyes on the back of my neck. I turned to glare—
“Well, what about me?” Donald asked.
“Ha!” I snorted. But when I looked at Donald, he wasn’t laughing. By the yellow light of the buddy board, I could see him watching my face intently. Wait, was he serious? I couldn’t tell, and I’d already laughed. Shit. Shit. As Raphael would say, commit.
I laughed again and shoved him away. “No way, Donald. You’re too fancy for me—I couldn’t go to those big black-tie senator events every weekend. I’d end up stabbing someone in the eye with my salad fork.”
There was an awkward pause, in which I freaked out that I’d erred to the point of no return. Who was listening to us? Ben? Crap.
But then Donald cracked his familiar smile. He clapped his hands, hooting. “I’d like to see that!”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be stabbing you,” I pointed out.
“Damn, Bee!” He reeled, laughing. I couldn’t tell if his reaction was genuine or overkill.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I said, shooting him a smile.
“No apologies, please.” Donald shook his head. “Happy to be roasted by your wit.”
“That’s why we love Bee!” Margo popped in between us and slipped her hand through mine and squeezed. “She’s the wittiest, silliest Queen of the North. Plus, she’s a Libra.”
I squeezed back. “You and your astronomy.”
“What, it’s true!” Margo insisted. “The stars don’t lie—your planet is Venus, hon, and you’re beautiful, just, and super sarcastic.”
“How scientific.” I laughed. “Well, my birth mom did warn the adoption center that I was ‘born under a dancing star.’”