by Molly Booth
Immediately, the group around me went silent, pity hanging in the air, and I cursed myself. Sometimes I forgot how people acted about my childhood and adoption, even my close friends.
Everyone panicked. Donald looked at Margo, who looked at me, then glanced at Ben, who took a step forward—and suddenly, bringing a great wave of relief, Hana was at my side.
“I’ve always thought that star must’ve had some serious dancing skills.”
“You know it!” I laughed, too loudly. Hana held out a hand, I twirled into her, and she dipped me. Everyone laughed a slightly hysterical laugh, glad the awkward was over. For them, anyway.
“Now, unlike you jerks,” I said, standing up, “I have to be awake to help Mom and Dad set up before morning meeting. So I’m going to bed.”
They whined about me skipping the after-party, but I yeah-yeahed, kissed Margo’s cheek good night, and started back to Little Bat. Halfway there, I heard small footsteps running to catch up behind me, and Hana’s soft voice:
“Bee! Are you okay?”
My little baby seal. I pulled her in.
“I’m A-OK. Now tell me everything!!”
THE BALLS OF my feet tried to push me forward, to run after Hana and Bee. My ears rung, and my chest burned from wanting to so much. I was dying to go after them, to apologize, and make sure Bee was okay. Everyone had acted so weird. But considering everything that had happened tonight, and I guess the last year, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be welcome.
I turned and trudged after the other three instead, toward Donald’s cabin for the “after-party.”
“I’m such an idiot,” I heard Donald say as I caught up. “And Bee’s such a queen.” Was he an idiot for a dumb joke? Or for actually trying to ask Bee out?
“Agreed to both.” Margo patted his shoulder. “The queen bee among us workers.”
“Yeah, but she’s changing the day of Capture the Flag,” I said with a scowl.
“Which makes sense,” Claudia said over her shoulder. Seemed she’d recovered enough from kissing to speak. “We’re always scrambling afterward to get everyone packed up.”
“But ending a session on Capture the Flag always leaves the kids super pumped about camp, and all the great times they had,” I complained. “Even if they were homesick and miserable the whole week.”
“Like Dale.” Donald nodded.
“That’s not a bad point,” Margo offered.
“Besides, I’d already planned a kick ball tournament for that Wednesday.”
“No offense,” Claudia said. Yay. “But considering your disorganized track record, Bee probably didn’t suspect you’d planned anything.”
I groaned. “Well, she could’ve asked!”
We’d arrived at Donald’s cabin. He flicked on the porch light, nearly blinding me. Donald looked hungover already—Claudia had all the kissing energy to eat up the alcohol.
“Well, dude, she’s had it in for you since last summer,” Donald pointed out. “But I can’t imagine she changed the camp schedule just to spite you.”
“Can’t you?” I demanded. “She hates me now! She thinks I shouldn’t even be at camp. Even though I run the sports program, I’m, like, a hopeless kid to her.”
Margo shifted, arms hugging her stomach. “Umm, Ben…”
I looked around and realized everyone was staring at me. Probably waiting for the downer to leave so they could party.
“Sorry, guys.” I sighed. “I’m going to bed.” I was getting out of line, and I didn’t want to make Bee’s stinging opinion of me stick with the rest of my friends.
“Night,” Claudia called after me. I waved in her direction. I couldn’t really be mad at her for falling in love with Hana. But if tonight was any indicator, I’d been totally justified in my rant about drama. Or was nobody else disturbed by Claudia’s earlier flash transformation into a possessive, paranoid snapping turtle?
Whatever. All’s well and all that.
I walked back to the waterfront, just past my cabin. I grabbed a few flat stones, skipped them on the top of the little waves. From here, I could see Little Bat’s windows glowing in the dark.
And I could almost see my younger self, staying up late with the Leonato girls, playing Uno, drinking bug juice till our teeth were stained red.
Why had I tried? How had I messed this up so badly?
Why had I come back?
SO I ASKED her if we were going to kiss, and she laughed right in my face. Classic. And then I laughed too. What an asshat thing to say. You barf your heart out about your family, and she was nice to you, so what, now you get to make out with her?
“Ben!” she managed to say, through the giggling. “What in the world—”
“Sorry, sorry.” I waved my hands. “That was uncalled for.”
She bumped her shoulder against mine, still laughing.
“But I mean,” I ventured, “it is my last summer….”
She landed a thorough smack in the middle of my chest.
“Well deserved.” I nodded. “Sorry, I’m buzzed.”
“I’m buzzed too,” she pointed out. “And I’m not proposing ideas completely devoid of any sense.”
“That’s fair.” Devoid of any sense. Right. I collapsed again, falling back onto the blanket. This was really why I never dated anyone, I thought. Because I am the most awkward human being alive, and any attempts I made to be otherwise were pointless.
“But I am going to lie down too,” Bee announced. I looked over, but suddenly, she was there already, her head resting on my arm.
“Can I use you as a pillow?” she asked all nonchalant. “I’m a little sleepy now.”
“Sure.” I could barely believe it, but then she snuggled up into my armpit. I stared into the sky, praying silently to the Maine stars that my deodorant had lasted. I scooped my hand up and around her shoulder. And then, like magic, I was lying on a blanket, with my arm wrapped around Bee Leonato, the greatest girl in the universe. Breathing in tandem, our bodies slowly syncing. I could’ve lain there with her forever. The leaves above us could’ve changed, the snow could’ve buried us, I wouldn’t have cared—we’d just thaw out in the spring.
“I have one,” Bee said.
“One what?” I murmured.
“A personal confession.”
That woke me up. “Okay, go!”
“Well…” she began. I tried to look at her, but I couldn’t without moving, which would probably ruin everything. “When I was five years old,” she continued, “when my mom and dad brought me to the US, it was obviously a big adjustment. I didn’t know English when I first came, just basic phrases, and they only knew some basic Amharic. So I liked everybody and all that, but it didn’t feel like home.”
“That makes sense.” Maine was nothing like Ethiopia. Even I knew that.
“During that time, I thought a lot about running away…”
I knew the feeling.
“…I think partly for the adventure of it. I’m not sure.” She paused. “But anyway, the day I decided to actually do it, I told both my parents.”
I laughed, thinking of little Bee, the honest rebel. I could sense her smiling next to me.
“I know, right?” She laughed, too. “And Mom said, ‘Okay, I don’t want you to go, but if you’re going to, we should pack you a bag first.’ So they packed my backpack with my clothes and my toothbrush. They put on my puffy coat and sent me into the woods behind Big Bat. And as I left, Mom said, ‘Bee, before you get too far, check the front pocket of your backpack.’ So a few steps in I did, because I was convinced it was candy.”
I couldn’t help laughing again, and then I gave her shoulder a small squeeze. I didn’t plan it, it just happened naturally. Instinctually. Did I have good instincts? I think she liked it, because for a moment, she stayed closer, in the squeeze, her head farther up my shoulder.
“Anyway.” She relaxed. “It wasn’t candy. It was a note from my parents, which was at first a bit of a letdown. But then I read it. It said: �
��Bee, we love you, please don’t go.’ Simple English,” she explained.
“Right,” I whispered.
“And every time I decided to run away, which was a lot in that first year, they’d pack my backpack and put a note in the front. And eventually I named it the Bee-Don’t-Go Bag. And then I stopped wanting to run away.”
“Bee-Don’t-Go Bag,” I repeated, dumbstruck.
“Mmmhmm.”
I’d seen framed photos of little Bee at the Leonatos’. Braids, shining cheeks, that huge grin, one arm planted firmly around little Hana, always. I’d envied her perfect family, getting to live at Camp Dogberry all year long. Here, it was safe. I never really thought about how maybe it hadn’t always felt like that to her. I pictured Nik and Andy, dutifully packing a backpack for her, and then waiting for her to return. Hoping the next time that she wouldn’t feel she had to go….
…
“Ben?”
……
“Ben, are you crying?”
“No. I mean, I can’t help it.”
She laughed and sat up. My shoulder felt cold. I sat up too, and rubbed at my nose, trying to wipe off all the gross happening on my face. I must be pretty wimpy and disgusting to her, I thought.
“But, uh.” I wiped my hands on my shorts. “That was such a beautiful story.” I finally looked at her again. Our eyes met. And I realized she really didn’t think I was disgusting.
“Aww.” She smiled. “Well, you’re the only one outside my family who knows it. This probably goes without saying but—”
“Never. What happens at Nest stays at Nest.”
“I promise too.” She put her hand on top of mine.
We were looking at each other like that again. Like when I’d asked if we were going to kiss. I forced myself to hold steady—I wanted us to keep looking at each other like that, to stay in one of these moments, because inside them, there was this tiny possibility of something.
Like it might actually happen.
AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES of sister talk, Bee yawned enormously and said she was going to sleep. I ducked out to go to Donald’s, and as I walked away from Little Bat, I stopped in my tracks: Bee might’ve been faking the yawn.
I turned back to look at our cabin—a flashlight lit one of the windows. I wondered if I should go back and make sure she wasn’t being upset on her own. I’d been so wrapped up in Claudia (literally) that I’d only caught the end of the adoption conversation. Once we were alone, she’d given me a quick rundown, at my urging, and mentioned something about Donald “making a joke” about asking her out, and then things getting weird. When I tried to ask more, she’d insisted we talk about the whole Claudia-and-I-kissing situation instead.
On my way to Donald’s, I filled my water bottle up with the shallow water, just at the spot Claudia and I had lingered. It had been amazing to me we hadn’t been electrocuted. I swear, I had felt sparks between our lips. I bottled up the memories with the water, and screwed the lid on tightly—later, I’d empty it all into one of the vases in my bedroom.
Coyote’s screen door fell sharply on the frame behind me.
“Hana!” Donald looked up, delighted, as I stepped inside. Coyote was a cavernous cabin—twelve beds, two lights. Every Dogberry cabin had camper signatures all over the walls and bedposts, written in permanent ink, but only Coyote had signatures in every color. Donald always brought a pack of rainbow Sharpies.
Steady rap music played on Donald’s laptop on the floor. Margo and Donald sat on his counselor’s bed on the back wall, a bottle of something between them. Above his bed, Donald had pinned up the big collage he’d made last year: a coyote’s face, with enormous yellow eyes, constructed out of tiny newspaper and magazine clippings.
Claudia hovered next to the door, wearing boxer shorts and a not-loose-enough-fitting gray T-shirt.
I needed to sit down.
“Hey.” I smiled and slid onto the bed opposite Donald’s. Claudia immediately sat down next to me. I felt my smile widen. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Kind of glad.” Claudia nudged me with her shoulder.
“Excellent!” Donald proclaimed. “Welcome to the exclusive after-party!”
“Where’s Ben?” I asked.
Donald shook his head. “He went to bed.”
Margo made an “eek” face. “I don’t know how he’s going to fall asleep over all that angry muttering coming out of his mouth.”
“I think he’d been chewed up enough by Bee,” Claudia offered. I winced.
“Well, they chewed up each other….” I trailed off.
Donald smirked, and Margo giggled.
“Umm, never mind.” Claudia blinked at me, her honey eyes laughing. She held up her left arm, and I scooted in under her shoulder. Her hand kind of flopped over the side of my arm. It was sort of awkward, but that didn’t make it any less magical.
“No!” Donald shouted. “Do mind, because we have an idea.”
“Mmm!” Margo agreed, smiling a little too wide. “And we need your advice.” These two were going to be real gross in the morning.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Claudia sighed. “Donald wants to do another setup.”
“You two can hardly complain.” Donald pointed a finger at her, at us.
I let out a giggle; Claudia shivered. I put a hand on her leg to steady her. More teeny shocks. How many body parts could we touch before lightning struck?
“Okay, who’s getting set up?” I asked. “Margo and Bobby? Officially?”
“Ew, no!” Margo said quickly. “Bee.”
I looked at Donald. “With who?”
You?
The last few years, I’d noticed Donald around Bee. Donald was always funny, always on top of it, but around Bee, there was this tiny falter, this small hitch in his game. He always pushed through like it hadn’t happened, but I’d got the sense he felt something for her. I’d never mentioned it to Bee, because it was pretty clear to me she didn’t feel that way about him.
Which was partly why that whole Donald-liked-me rumor had been super weird today. Thank goodness it had been nothing.
If Donald’s feelings had been hinted at before, I was pretty sure they’d been confirmed tonight. Even if he’d played it off as a joke, and then put his foot in his mouth.
“We’re setting her up with Benjamin!” Donald declared, raising his bottle. “Those two have been into each other since…seventh grade?”
“Years!” Margo yelled in agreement. “They’re my OTP.”
We laughed. I guessed they were my One True Pairing too. I’d always thought they were going to get together.
“Right,” Donald nodded. “And we know something happened between them last summer.”
All eyes turned to me. I held up both hands. “I don’t know anything,” I assured them. I felt guilty even confirming that piece of non-information.
“And she wouldn’t tell us if she did.” Margo toasted the bottle at me.
I smiled at her. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“But something did happen!” Margo continued. “It’s so obvious. They’ve been acting weird ever since last year’s sparkler party.”
I watched Donald’s face. Was that the tiniest flinch ever, or a blink?
“Well, they’ve always made fun of each other,” Claudia said.
“Oh, come on,” Margo said. “It wasn’t like this before. Before it was friendly. Or flirting.”
“That’s true,” I said. “They were friends.” I turned to Claudia. “Good friends.”
“And this could be Ben’s last shot!” Donald hopped off the bed in excitement, held out his arms wide. A presentation was beginning. “Bee’s gonna get scooped up by some hottie this fall.”
“Totally.” Margo nodded. “She’s already joined, like, nine clubs.”
I felt a pang. Had she?
Donald laughed and pointed at Margo. “Exactly. She’s a hot nerd, and there’s gonna be a line of guys banging down her door. So Ben’s got one last shot, this
summer.”
I wasn’t a fan of discussing Bee’s love life behind her back, but Donald was probably right. Bee was going to have her pick of guys at college. My mom had sometimes said this to Bee, when she’d bemoaned her dating options at Messina High. Unlike me, she’d never even sort of dated anyone at MHS. But in Boston, that big, looming skyline in my head, she’d have so many options. Odds were she’d meet at least one guy she might actually want to spend time with.
Maybe this was Ben’s last shot.
“Well,” I managed. Claudia gave my shoulder a squeeze. She’d figured out what to do with her floppy hand. I loved this.
Donald clapped at me. “Hana’s on board. Claudia?”
“I don’t know what I’m agreeing to yet.”
“Good point.” He climbed back on the bed, put one arm around Margo, and leaned in. He motioned for Claudia and me to come over. We glanced at each other, quickly acknowledging neither one of us wanted to move, and then we did. We crowded around Donald on his squishy, orange sleeping bag.
“I have a plan,” he whispered.
“Of course you do,” Margo said, tipping over onto his shoulder.
I should’ve guessed. He was on a roll. He’d been so proud earlier, taking me for a walk, little by little revealing that Claudia liked me, while at the same time making sure I liked her back before he did. I’d been so terrified that he liked me, the entire thing had worked perfectly.
“What’s the plan?” I asked him.
“We’re going to trick them into admitting they like each other!” Donald said triumphantly. “You and I,” he said to Claudia, “will set up Ben so that he overhears us saying that Bee likes him but won’t tell him. And then you two”—he gestured to me and Margo—“will do the same thing with Bee. Reversed.”
Margo squealed and hit my arm excitedly.
“I actually like that idea.” Claudia raised her eyebrows. “It’s like Battleship.”
I smiled, but I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t going to bring it up again, for fear of more speculation, but we didn’t know what had happened between them last summer. We didn’t know what we would be getting in the middle of. What if it was serious?