by Kasie West
“That’s between me and the moon,” I said with a smile.
“Well, I hope you didn’t ask it for a certain boy we both know, because he’s a mess.”
“I didn’t.” And that was the truth.
As we rode back across the dark lake, I stared up at the sky full of stars. Just help me to know what I want. A few signs wouldn’t hurt.
I shouldn’t have asked for signs, even if I didn’t believe in them, because it made me read into everything that happened that week. It started the next morning at breakfast.
I was stirring my oatmeal when my mom asked, out of the blue, “Remember when you used to sing in that elite choir at school?”
My eyes shot to my sister. She held up her hands. “I did not say anything.”
“What?” Mom said.
“Why did you bring that up?” I asked, adding another scoop of brown sugar to my bowl.
“I don’t know. I just remembered how much you loved it.”
“I remember that. What made you quit choir?” Dad asked.
“You honestly don’t remember?” I asked, my agitation growing. Lauren had to have said something to them. She obviously didn’t spell it out because if she actually told them she wanted me to sing in a festival with an employee, they would say no. Maybe I should tell them and shut this down right here and now.
“No, I don’t remember,” Dad said.
“I ran off the stage in the middle of a concert because I froze up. Forgot my part,” I said. “The whole audience laughed.”
“Oh yeah,” Mom said. “I had forgotten that too.”
How could they have forgotten one of the most humiliating days of my life? “Well, I haven’t,” I said.
“Maybe it’s time,” Lauren said, “to replace that awful failure with a triumphant success.”
“Maybe it’s time,” I said, standing up, “for you to think of a new documentary you can create this summer.” I placed my half-empty oatmeal bowl in the sink and filled it with water. “Maybe it can star the lifeguards or the cooks.”
“Stellar ideas, Avery,” Lauren said. “Those sound like blockbusters.”
“What is going on with you two?” Dad asked, but he was really staring at me. He wasn’t used to seeing me lose my cool. “What documentary?”
“Nothing,” I said, and Lauren chimed in with, “Beyond nothing.”
* * *
Maricela was right—Fourth of July week had the camp bursting at the seams with the influx of new guests. Every table in the dining hall was full that week. The walkways were teeming with people, the lodge activities had sign-ins and waiting lists, the swimming pool reached its max capacity. But that didn’t stop me from putting on my swimsuit and heading for the Slip ’N Slide midweek. We’d been here awhile and I still hadn’t tried it.
There was a line at the slide. It snaked halfway down the hill and then took a sharp turn at the bathrooms and twisted back onto itself. The majority of line occupants were kids under ten. As I took in the attraction, I realized this was not just a piece of plastic with a cheap pool at the end. This was a hundred feet of plastic, heading down a slope before it leveled off again into a huge splash zone. No wonder the camp bragged about it.
I stepped up to the end of the line and the little girl in front of me turned around and peered up at me.
“Hi,” she said. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven.
“Hi.”
“Have you done this before?”
“No, it’s my first time. What about you?”
“Mine too.” She rose to her tiptoes and then back down again several times.
She seemed nervous, so I said, “Look at all the people getting off and coming back in line again. It must be really fun.”
She nodded as we inched forward in line. “My brother says it’s fun.”
“That’s good. I was a little nervous but that makes me feel better.”
“Me too!”
“You can show me how to do it when we get to the top.”
She smiled, revealing two missing top teeth. “You’re pretty.”
Suddenly waiting in line with a bunch of kids didn’t seem so bad. “Thank you. So are you.”
“You look like Belle,” she said.
“You have a friend named Belle?”
“No, Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”
“Oh.” I’d never gotten that one before. Lauren always got all the Disney princess comparisons. “Thank you.”
“Do you know any of her songs?”
“Um…” It had been forever since I’d watched Beauty and the Beast. “There’s that one she sings in the village. And the one where all the dishes sing.”
The girl giggled. “Sing one!”
“What?” I changed my mind. Kids were the worst. “No, that’s okay.”
“Please!”
Had Lauren somehow put her up to this? I searched for my sister in the crowd. “Look, we’re almost to the front,” I told the girl, even though we’d only just reached the curve of the line.
That’s when she started singing, loudly, drawing lots of stares. A few of the other kids around us joined in. I felt like I was in the middle of a bad musical. By the time I got to the front of the line, I was so ready to be done that I hardly enjoyed the slide.
* * *
The Fourth of July arrived and as I was heading to change for fireworks, I saw Maricela walking ahead of me, on her way to break or done with her shift, I wasn’t sure. I’d just finished dinner with my family where the band’s stage in the corner of the dining hall sat quietly empty again tonight until a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, had stepped onto it and called out, “Where has all the music gone? Someone bring back the music!”
His friends had laughed and eventually his parents had pulled him down. Surprisingly, my sister said nothing about it, didn’t even look at me. Lauren hadn’t said more than a handful of words to me since our fight.
I picked up my pace until I was walking next to Maricela.
“Hey, stranger!” she said, her face brightening. “Where have you been all week?”
“In hiding. There are too many people here.” And the universe or the moon or someone by the name of Lauren was out to convince me to do something I didn’t want to do.
“Tell me about it.”
“You done for the day?” I asked.
“Yes! You should come with me! We watch the fireworks from a clearing up the hill.”
“Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t be super excited if I didn’t watch the fireworks show with them. They reserved a spot by the lake last week.”
“Oh, right. Sometimes I forget your whole family is here.”
“Very much here,” I said with a smile. “Don’t you have to help with the fireworks?”
“No. Janelle hires a company for that. She doesn’t want us burning the forest down. Go figure.”
“She expects so much.” I scanned a group of people in front of us as we walked but there was nobody I recognized—only guests. “How is everyone?”
“Everyone?” she asked.
I bit the inside of my cheek. She was really going to make me spell it out. “Brooks. How is Brooks? Have he and Kai made up? Has he talked about the festival at all?” I hadn’t seen him all week, despite doing everything to search him out except knock on his cabin door, and it was killing me.
She smirked. “It’s been so busy this week, I haven’t talked to anyone much. But he seems like his normal self, from a distance. I saw him talking to Kai just yesterday, so I think they’re good.”
The amount of relief I felt at that was more than the news deserved.
We passed a bench tucked between two pines where a guy was singing to a girl. She was giggling, her hands over her mouth. “Seriously?” I said.
“Musi
c is a love language, isn’t it?” Maricela said with a sincere smile.
“Not you too,” I responded with a groan. “Has my sister been talking to you?”
“About what?” she asked, oblivious.
“About me singing with Brooks for the festival?”
“What? No! Is that a possibility?”
“No, it’s not. I’m a chicken.”
“You’re not a chicken,” she said.
“I really am,” I said.
She nodded slowly as if thinking this through. “So now you’re worried Brooks is mad at you.”
“Do you think he is?”
“No, I don’t. Brooks is probably mad at himself for entertaining the idea of performing at the festival in the first place. For getting his hopes up about it. He probably even has some stupid idea that his dreams are what caused Ian to get hurt. Like I told you before, Brooks is a mess. And I thought I told you that meant you should steer clear.” Just how well did Maricela know Brooks? With a speech like that, more than I realized. I panicked when I realized he could easily be her mystery guy.
“You don’t think I should sing?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what you think.”
If only I knew what I thought. “I better go. My parents will be waiting.”
“Okay, if you can sneak away tonight, follow the signs to Shadow Ridge.” She rushed ahead.
“I don’t need to follow any signs,” I mumbled.
I’d changed into jeans and pulled on a hoodie, and now, as the light was quickly fading from the sky, I searched the crowded shore around the lake for my parents and Lauren. They said they would be near the snack hut but I didn’t see them anywhere. All I saw were families sitting on colorful blankets awaiting the main event.
The lake was dotted with sailboats and paddle boats and motor boats, filled with people, all anchored and waiting as well. On the dock, an older woman tapped a microphone, then said, “Will everyone please stand for the national anthem.” I wondered if this was the infamous Janelle. She was in a flannel and jeans and her gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
She passed the microphone to a young girl while everyone around me climbed to their feet. And then this girl, who was probably only eleven or twelve, began to sing, with an entire camp and lake full of people staring at her. And she didn’t miss a single note.
“Jealous?” Lauren’s voice asked in my ear when she was done.
I turned to see Lauren’s smirk. “Yes, actually. I think you think I choose to have stage fright.”
“I think you choose not to do anything about it.”
“Where are Mom and Dad?” I really didn’t want to have this conversation. I just wanted to watch fireworks. I loved fireworks.
She spun on her heel and led the way to a blanket halfway down the beach area.
“Avery,” Dad said with a smile. “We thought you got eaten by a bear.”
“I almost did, but luckily I threw someone else in the path and kept running.”
“Good call,” Dad said.
Lauren blew air between her lips. “You two and your dad jokes.”
I met Dad’s eyes. It had been a while since we’d shared some friendly banter. Things had been awkward between us. I dropped my gaze and lowered myself to the blanket.
Mom was using a wadded-up sweatshirt as a pillow and she looked up and raised one of her hands. “I thought it was funny.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
“Where are these fireworks going to be blasted from anyway?” Lauren asked.
Dad pointed. “Way out in the middle of the lake. You going to record tonight?”
She shrugged. “Things like this don’t translate very well to video without super-expensive equipment. It’s like when you try to take a picture of the moon. It’s just not the same as seeing it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Had someone told her about our moon circle or was it just a coincidence that she was bringing up the moon? Had she seen Kai or Levi…or Brooks this week?
“You feeling any better?” Dad asked, putting his hand on my mom’s head.
She had her forearm draped across her eyes as she lay on the blanket.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you sick?”
“I think that salad at dinner and my stomach aren’t getting along,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Me too,” she said. “But I’m going to stick it out for at least one firework.”
“You’re leaving?” Lauren asked.
“One firework,” Mom insisted.
“Well, we all know they start with the best fireworks and end with the crappy ones anyway,” I said.
Mom laughed and then held her stomach. “Don’t make me laugh.”
The lady in the flannel shirt was weaving between blankets, talking to people now.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“That’s the owner of this camp,” Dad said.
Lauren’s eyes shot to Janelle, probably wanting to put a face to a name as well. A huge red firework lit up the sky to oohs and aahs from the crowd around us.
Mom groaned.
“Girls,” Dad said, “would you feel the need to talk to your future therapist about being abandoned on a holiday if your mom and I went back to the cabin?”
“Definitely,” I said.
“Right after I tell them about the summer my parents took away my access to the internet,” Lauren said.
“Oh good, you’ll have plenty of fodder,” Dad said, standing as another firework lit the sky behind his head. “Come home right after the show is over. It’s too crowded to stay out here late tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom said to us, letting my dad help her to her feet.
The two of them slowly picked their way through the crowd. Lauren and I sat there in silence for several minutes staring at the sky. Then, as if we both knew the other had found out about the staff party happening right now, I said, “Should we go?”
And she said, “Absolutely.”
* * *
“Who told you about this?” I asked as we walked, pointing our flashlights at the trail ahead.
“I don’t remember. Levi? Kai, maybe?” Lauren said.
“You’re still talking to them even though the documentary isn’t happening?”
“Yes. We’re friends now. I wasn’t just faking it for the documentary. I’m not a user, Avery.”
“I know.” A sadness washed over me with her words and I knew why. I had thought Brooks and I were friends, but now I wondered if he was only helping me because I was helping him. I mean, that’s exactly why he was helping me; that’s how it started at least. But I had hoped we had moved on from that. This week, not seeing him once, proved to me that we hadn’t.
“Did you hear that?” Lauren asked, stopping in the middle of the path. Fireworks were still going strong in the sky, the smell of explosives stronger up here on the ridge.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
Her flashlight swept over the trees on our right. “What if there’s a bear out here?” she whispered.
I almost told her that she was being dumb, but maybe there was a bear up here, scared by the loud blasts. I pointed my light to the trees as well. I didn’t see anything, but now I heard what she had: a rustling of leaves or underbrush. My heart slammed into my rib cage.
“Are we supposed to run?” she asked. “Or play dead?”
“I have no idea.” Every instinct in my body told me to run. Why hadn’t I asked Maricela what to do if I ever saw a bear? That seemed like some good information to have.
Lauren, who hadn’t touched me all week, gripped my arm and smashed herself against my side.
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s probably just a squirrel or something.” It
did not sound like a squirrel. It sounded like something much bigger. “Let’s keep walking.”
“They sell bear spray in the general store. Why haven’t Mom and Dad bought us any of that?”
“They probably didn’t think we’d wander away from camp after dark.” We weren’t that far from camp, just on one of the trails that cut through the woods above the lake. I took the first step forward and Lauren followed me.
We walked for several more minutes that way—slowly, with Lauren clinging to my arm and the sound of rustling to our right. When I finally heard voices up ahead, I almost cried out in relief. Lauren relaxed beside me as well.
But then the rustling noise got louder and more intense. Lauren yelped and we started running. In my periphery I saw a huge shape leap out from the woods, followed by a very human sounding “Roar!”
I swung the flashlight around in time to see Kai land on the trail in front of us, laughing.
“You are the literal worst,” I said evenly.
Lauren melted into tears and Kai’s happy face crumpled to remorse.
“You deserve that,” I said to him.
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. Come here.” He pulled Lauren into his arms. “Shhh, I’m sorry.”
“You. Are. Such. A. Jerk.” She hit his chest with each word.
He tried to stifle his laugh. My suspicions about the two of them came roaring back to life. I wanted to pull Lauren out of his arms, but just as I stepped forward to take her hand, he released her and said, “Come on, you’re missing the show. There’s food too.” Then he led the way to the clearing.
It was brighter than I expected. Lanterns had been strung up in trees. Someone had even hiked a folding table up here and it was covered with snacks and drinks. And to the left, like the trees had grown to create a perfect window, was a large circle of blackness that kept bursting to life with fireworks.
Lauren walked to the food and I walked to the colorful display in the sky. I wasn’t the only one who had wanted a closer look. Several others were standing at the edge of the clearing, watching the sky.