Camp Boyfriend

by Rock, J. K.

  “Oops. Gotta go. We’re heading into town to get supplies for tomorrow’s talent contest. You’ll be there, right?”

  I cringed at the reminder, imagining everyone’s scornful looks. Then a thought struck me. Emily could help me change that.

  “Would you do something for me at the talent show?”

  She leaned in conspiratorially. “What?”

  When I finished whispering, she nodded, eyes wide.

  “Done deal!” She jogged backwards a few feet, then stopped. “You know I’ve always got your back.”

  Alone again, I studied the envelope, wondering what the note said. I ripped through the seal and readied myself for disappointment. When it came to Dad, it hadn’t paid lately to get my hopes up.

  But a receipt with a familiar stamp appeared. NASA. The paper shook so hard in my hands, it took me a couple of seconds to read it then process what it meant. No wonder it’d felt so light. He’d sent in my letters of reference. They must have received my application for the Aerospace Scholars Program! My heart pounded. How had that happened? I remembered leaving the uploaded application on his computer the morning I left for camp, but since I didn’t think he had gotten the letters of reference, I hadn’t thought he cared.

  But my father had thought of everything, even a quick note of encouragement and a reminder to submit my essay online for early acceptance. My throat constricted. Dad might have put aside his dreams, but he hadn’t forgotten mine.

  Now I needed to write the admission essay and my application would be complete. It had been my childhood dream. But after a summer of focusing on boy and friend drama, I hadn’t given any thought to what I’d write about.

  The papers hovered over a nearby garbage can.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Siobhan’s reasonable voice sounded behind me.

  I squinted at her irreverent look—a knee-length Elmo T-shirt, red-banded gym socks, and a penguin hat—at odds with her serious expression.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The application you’re throwing out.”

  “What?” I pulled the envelope farther from the bin.

  “Duh. It was all you talked about last year. Remember? We even strategized about the essay you’d write. When Alex found the envelope, I remembered the phone conversation you had with your dad and put two and two together.”

  “You eavesdropped?”

  “Get real, Lauren. The porch windows are covered with screens, not soundproof glass. And you were wrong when you told your father life was too complicated to have what you want. It’s only as complicated as you make it.”

  I pointed to her school work. “You’re one to talk.”

  Siobhan shrugged and hoisted her backpack, bowing slightly under the weight. “My parents may make me do this, but I’d do it anyway. I want to be a doctor. Do you think that after all the opportunities they’ve given me I’d—” she gestured to the trash, “throw it away?”

  “At least you’ve worked for it. All I’ve done is mess everything up.”

  “Opportunities come to all kinds of people. It’s what you do with them that’s important. Think about it.”

  She gave me a small smile as she headed toward the lounge, the only quiet place during the activities-filled day. Gollum must have relaxed the rules for her, given that camp was nearly over.

  “Are you coming?” she called.

  My heart squeezed tight at the invitation from my old friend. Whether I deserved her friendship or not, she’d held out a hand when I needed one.

  I was an idiot if I wasted this chance, with her friendship and with the Aerospace Scholars. I’d lost a lot this summer, but I’d be damned if I’d lose this opportunity too.

  “Got a pen?” I shouted, sprinting past Siobhan.

  * * *

  Massive fans whirled overhead, moving hot air around the oversized common space. Siobhan curled up in a frayed chair, her dark brows knit as she pored over a science book. I sat across from her on a sagging couch that creaked whenever I moved. I’d filled out the application last spring without a problem. It was the essay question that stumped me.

  “What makes you a good fit for this program?”

  Last year, the words would have rolled off my pen. I’d known exactly who I was and what I wanted—to be an astronomer. And Seth had reminded me not to forget those old dreams, so I started with that.

  Wonderment is a word often associated with children. There is so much they wish to explore, thrilling at each discovery in their new world. While Earth held many such surprises for me growing up, my young eyes were also drawn to the heavens, imagining what I might someday find there.

  Some say the night sky is like an old photograph. Light takes so long to reach us that many of the stars I admire have burned out. Yet their memory is as bright and vivid as ever, a dream that should never be forgotten.

  These stars have guided many travelers home. I’m no exception. When I’ve lost my way, their lights, like old friends, guide me back. It’s a breathtaking vista and a quiet reminder that, no matter how complicated life becomes, the sky will always be my simple, universal truth.

  So far so good. But what came next?

  I put down my pencil, slowly becoming aware of a soft tune playing in my head. Or was it? I’d been concentrating so hard I’d missed the faint piano notes coming through the wall the lounge shared with the arts center. Something about it sounded familiar. I strained to hear more, then froze. It was the same melody Matt had hummed in my ear during the camp dance.

  The couch squealed in protest as I stood, drawn to the music. Other than that one time I’d heard Matt hum the song, I hadn’t ever heard it before.

  Siobhan glanced up and frowned. “Are you bailing?”

  “No. I just need to think through the end of the essay,” I fibbed, unable to concentrate until I found out who was playing that music next door. My eyes wandered to the wall, the notes trickling through it like a spring rain shower.

  Siobhan shook her head, penguin ear-flaps lifting. “Just as long as you come back.”

  “I will.” I stacked my papers on the scarred coffee table.

  She gave me an assessing stare as I passed by her chair and studied her homework.

  “I assume you know you need to use the sis form of that isomer,” I pointed out, my brain firing on all cylinders today.

  She stopped nibbling her eraser. “I do now. Thanks.”

  “Hey. Can I ask a favor?” I really needed an ally in the Munchies cabin to pull off my plan tomorrow, and I knew Trinity would never give me the time of day.

  Siobhan’s pencil stilled. “I’m listening.”

  I whispered my plan about the Talent Show. She remained silent for moment, her eyebrows disappearing into faux penguin fur.

  I grinned when she finally nodded; it was on now.

  * * *

  Lyrical chords rose and fell as I eased inside the arts center, the mystery song drawing me forward. My eyes adjusted from the bright outdoors to the interior gloom. Normally activities would be running this period, but it was free time. With the clock winding down at camp, everyone was outside. Except Matt.

  His straight dark hair, longer than he’d ever worn it, obscured his face as he bent over the keys. His hands were a blur of motion across the black and white strip, halting once in a while to yank a pencil out of his mouth and scribble on a sheet of music paper.

  Holy. Crap.

  I’d heard Matt mess around on a piano once, but I’d never known he could really play. Write songs. Compose music.

  I’d thought he was a sight to see on the football field. But watching him create music took my breath away.

  I must have made a sound because the song cut off with a discordant note. On shaking legs, I wove through the maze of art stations. He stared at me, his eyes following my body from my head to my feet, not lingering anywhere—a wary, defensive gaze.

  I tugged up my tank top strap, then stuffed my hands into the pockets of my shorts. Matt looked awes
ome in a faded-black racer-back tank that showed off his biceps, veins popping. Who knew piano playing could look so hot?

  “What are you doing here?” He glared at me, though his green eyes looked thoughtful. Their peculiar shade had always fascinated me, the color set off by a fleck of gold in his right iris.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” I moved closer and rested my hand on the worn piano lid. “Why didn’t you tell me you could play?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were spending the night with Seth?” His nostrils flared, the twitch under his left eye appearing.

  Air hissed between my teeth and I looked away. Would Matt ever trust me? “We didn’t,” I made air quotes, “‘spend the night.’ We got caught in the storm and had to wait it out.”

  Matt spoke to the peaked ceiling. “How convenient.”

  My nails drummed on the hardwood. “Actually it was cold, dark, and a little scary, but thanks for your concern.”

  His eyes flashed to mine. “I was worried. Rob and Bam-Bam had to keep me from going after you.”

  For the first time I noticed a nasty shoulder bruise and what looked like finger marks on his upper arm. I reached out to touch the spots.

  “Are these from—”

  “Yes.” His jaw tightened as my fingers swept over the discolored skin.

  Touched, I blurted, “I’m so sorry. Believe me. I wanted to get back but Seth said it was too dangerous.”

  Matt’s laugh was bitter and hard. “And you believed him.”

  “Since he knows these woods and is my friend, yeah. I trusted him.”

  “We both know he’s more than a friend.” His low voice echoed in the empty space. “Hannah saw you hugging him in the dining hall this morning.”

  Of course. Hannah. Would that girl ever quit? Then again, with Matt close to being hers, why would she? Since it wasn’t her last year of eligibility for camp, or Matt’s, they could plan to meet up again next summer. My heart clenched. Maybe they already had.

  “The floor was wet and he slipped.” I sat on the piano bench, encouraged that he didn’t leap off the seat when I did.

  His bottle green eyes searched mine, a light in them growing as tense seconds ticked away. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders lowering.

  “You’re telling the truth.”

  “Duh. I told you I didn’t want to go out with anyone right now, and I meant it.”

  “So have you figured things out yet?”

  I shook my head. “No. But I’m writing my essay to become an Aerospace Scholar at NASA’s Johnson Space Center.”

  Matt’s smile made my stomach flip- flop. He grabbed my hands. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to do that?”

  “It’ll mean I might not have time to cheer next year.” I knew cheerleading wasn’t everything, but I liked it and I would miss it.

  “That’s perfect, because I’m going to be hanging out in the music room instead of playing football.”

  “We’re both geeks—” we said at the same time. “Jinx, you owe me a soda,” we chorused again and laughed.

  “That makes us geek chic.” I pushed up my square frames.

  “I prefer nerd cool.” Matt punctuated his statement with a cascade of chords.

  “Definitely cooler.” I smiled and gestured to the piano. “Why didn’t you tell me you played?”

  “I’ve gotten used to keeping it under wraps.” His words were punctuated by two ominous chords. “It never fit with my father’s image of a dedicated jock.” He deepened his voice in a decent imitation of his dad. “Keep your focus on the game, son.”

  “That wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

  “You cared a lot about cheerleading and your popular friends. What was I supposed to think?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it. Had I made him believe I wouldn’t accept this different side of him? That I would think like his father? I’d been so busy trying to fit in with my family’s expectations that I had failed to realize that others, even confident kids like Matt, did the same.

  Matt’s hands danced across the keys, a jaunty melody springing from them like magic. “And I’m not taking over the car dealership when Dad retires, either.” He trailed his fingers along the length of the board to punctuate his declaration of independence. Butler men had sold cars in Texas since Henry Ford was alive, and probably sold horses before that. My mind reeled.

  “What will you do instead?”

  “My mom said I can study music after I graduate.”

  “Wow, Matt, that’s amazing.” I hugged him quickly, then pulled back.

  Matt shook his head, looking as shell-shocked as me. “Crazy, right? I used to know where I’d end up, but everything is different now. I’m not afraid to do what I want—be who I am anymore.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I sound like a fortune cookie.”

  I squeezed his hand. “No. You’re making perfect sense.” I nodded at his music sheet. “Is that what you’re writing about?”

  Red bloomed under his tan cheeks. “No.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a love song.”

  “Oh.” I stood and wiped my damp palms on my shorts, not sure if I wanted to know who he’d written it for. Given my behavior, I doubted it was me.

  “Maybe I’ll play it for you someday,” he said, his voice pitched low.

  “I’d like that.” I backed away. “But I’ve got to finish my application essay today or I won’t get in.”

  His eyes shone with confidence. “You’ll get in, Lauren. There’s no one better.”

  I shut the door behind me and stopped to catch my breath. Never in a million years would I have imagined Matt Butler choosing music over football. It was too unreal to process.

  The lounge was deserted when I returned. I wished Siobhan had stuck around, but I was glad for the privacy. My head felt like a tornado had blown through it, my thoughts twisting all around. Matt and Seth had changed this summer. Then a thought struck me. I had, too. A different Lauren would return to Texas, just like a new Lauren had left it. The only difference was that now I accepted those changes. Like Matt said, I shouldn’t be afraid to be myself.

  I picked up my pen and got back to the essay.

  At first glance, the universe appears to be a constant. But I’ve learned that things are rarely as they appear. New stars form as I write, while others fade away, their light dimming to allow room in the sky for the next generation. Such change is not to be feared, but celebrated.

  The unknown is a gift, a promise, a journey worth more than its destination. As an Aerospace Scholar, I will bring my passion for this dynamic, ever-growing entity, the primordial origin of life. My thirst to uncover the many secrets the heavens hold will make me a dedicated student and a fascinated observer of the wonder that lies above.

  I’d convince Emily to let me type and email it tonight. Then I’d make copies. Two individuals had taught me a lot this summer, and I wanted both to see what I’d learned.

  As I passed Siobhan’s empty chair, I noticed a note propped against its back.

  L- If I could write you a letter of reference it’d go like this: I’m pleased to recommend Lauren Carlson. She’s the smartest girl I know and the one I’d vote as most likely to change the universe. She will always be one of my closest friends, and you’d be lucky to have her. We were. See you at the talent show, Lauren! Can’t wait—the girls will freak. Love ya, Siobhan.

  I swiped at my damp cheeks, incredulous that by some miracle I’d kept at least one friend. Would tomorrow’s risky plan help me win back the rest, or would I lose them forever?

  * * *

  After spell-checking for the tenth time, I hit send a few minutes before the computer lab shut down for the day. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms. Wow. I’d completed the NASA application and taken my first step toward the life I wanted. After all I’d been through, I never would have guessed that the guy who’d help me realize my dreams would be my father.

  When I returned to Divas’ Den, my
belongings were heaped on the porch, with an “I’m sorry” note in Kayla’s handwriting. My shoulders slumped as I processed their unspoken message: I was no longer welcome. Spending the night with Seth hadn’t gone over well after promising to keep the summer “boy-free.” Kayla might have believed me, but what chance would she have stood against Hannah’s harsh judgment?

  I packed my clothes in my suitcase and left it there on the porch with the rest of my stuff. Grabbing some leftover trail mix from my bag, I set out to hike along the Nantahala River, something I’d always liked doing when I came to camp. I wanted at least a few camp memories that weren’t about boys and cliques. Much later, when the campers gathered at their final bonfire, I snuck back and grabbed my sleeping bag.

  Lying on the dock, I listened to an orchestra of crickets and the lapping water below. There was nothing like sleeping outdoors on a clear night. Luckily, Victoria’s deep sleep habits meant I wouldn’t be missed.

  Brilliant stars twinkled down from an onyx sky. I drew my flannel-lined sleeping bag around me as the first breath of crisp night air caressed my shoulders. Summer was ending.

  I watched the steadfast universe I’d always loved—Polaris, the North Star, and the Big and Little Dippers. But the familiar formations left me restless, and I scanned for signs that the heavens changed like us, something I no longer feared. I could evolve eternally and shine just as bright.

  A flash of light streaked across the midnight sky. As it fell like a sparkler, I made a wish. I’d finally figured who I was and what my place in the world should be.

  The question was, who to share it with? And would he want to share it with me?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The day of the talent show passed in a blur. After hours of prep work running errands for counselors and helping paint scenery, I stepped out of the shower. Outside the window, kids chattered on their way back from dinner. They shoved, giggled, and screeched, their excitement for our end-of-the-year event palpable.

  I blew out my hair, straightening every inch until it reflected the waning light. I withdrew my dance outfit from my suitcase, my breath catching as I tore off the plastic. Kayla’s fashion-connected mom had come through and gotten us gorgeous costumes in record time.