We sat cross-legged on the rug, and David shook back his hair. His face twisted uncomfortably. I suddenly wondered if doing this was as hard for him as diving had been for me. It seemed crazy, but maybe . . .
“Okay,” I said, setting the timer on my watch. “On the count of three.”
The first minute was terrible. Our eyes kept sliding away from each other. We’d catch ourselves and force our gazes back. David must have swept his hair from his eyes fifty times. It happened so much I started giggling. No wonder Donna was fed up with us. We were hopeless!
“Do you want a barrette or something?” I asked David.
“Do you have one?”
“No.”
“A rubber band?”
“No. What about your bass strap?”
David opened his case, unhooked the embroidered strap from his bass, and tied it around his forehead. He looked like a hippie, and I laughed again. The tips of his ears turned dark.
“We’re going to have to start over, you know,” I said.
“Please don’t say that,” David said, crushing his hands against his face.
“I’m sorry,” I said through my giggles, “but we have to. We really do.”
That was why Donna’s homework assignment was so evil. If we didn’t do it, she wouldn’t have to punish us. Our inevitable failure would be enough. I guess David realized the same thing. He started laughing, too. “Sorry. This is so awkward.”
“I know,” I said. “But we have to try.”
It took two more false starts, but we finally got past our giggling. We stared at each other, chins propped in our hands. I found myself really noticing David’s features for the first time. His eyes were very dark. They reminded me of Mom’s morning coffee before she added cream and sugar. His eyebrows were black smudges. His nose bent just a little to the left. He had a couple of pimples, but who didn’t? Toni was right, I realized. He was kind of cute.
I jumped when the timer on my watch beeped. David hopped up and unwound his bass strap from his forehead. His hair fell like curtains.
“See you at practice tomorrow,” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” I said. “See you.” I backed out of the room, tripping over his amp as I went.
I didn’t want to think about boys. Olivia, Toni, Adeline—why did everyone have to go there? Thanks to them, I was now wondering what it would be like to double-buddy with Olivia and Noel and David, when I knew it was a terrible idea. It was completely annoying.
At school, in those units on self-esteem, the ones that warn you about drugs and eating disorders and cutting yourself, they always tell you that if someone truly cares about you, they’ll accept you for who you are. So why did everyone think they knew what was best for me? They weren’t inside my head. They weren’t inside my heart.
Get real. You’re confused 95 percent of the time. No wonder you get pushed around.
I signed out a stall with a drum set and started playing, forcing myself to go slow and easy. No particular song—I was free playing, following the beat wherever it led. I breathed in one measure, out the next, until my heart synced with my drums. The music unfurled inside me, expanding to fill every cranny of my brain and body, until there wasn’t room left for anger or worry. It all melted away.
My arms and legs loosened up, and I began to play louder, faster. It was impossible to feel angry or helpless when I was in the groove. It was impossible to be a wallflower. I was in control here. I had the power. I would make the trees tremble for miles.
I kicked it up a notch, sweat gathering on the back of my neck, cymbals toppling wildly on their stands. I kicked it up another, and another, until—crack—a wild blow to the rim of a tom splintered one of my sticks in two.
Reality came crashing down around me. Control? Power? Only if I lived my entire life behind the drums. And apparently not even then. Growling, I left the stall, chucking the broken stick in the garbage.
The problem was I didn’t know where to go next. I stormed to the Fretboard but didn’t know where to flip my pick. I was standing there glowering when Adeline entered the clearing with her guitar. Ugh! Why couldn’t she practice in the lodge like a normal person? Why did she have to show up, instead of a complete stranger? Someone who’d give me a funny look and let me go without saying a word?
She held out her hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Melly, are you okay?”
I dodged away from her touch. “Yes. God. Why is everyone bothering me?”
Before she could answer, I ran back to the lodge. In the bathroom, I turned on the hot water and waited for it to warm up, but of course it didn’t. I had to settle for splashing lukewarm water on my face, which I did until I wasn’t completely blotchy and puffy.
I lifted my shirt to dry my face. All right. Tantrum over. Life would go on.
Outside, Adeline pushed herself off the stone wall of the lodge. “If you want me to go away, I will,” she said. “But first, are you really okay?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Sorry for freaking out. It’s been a weird day.”
She nodded. “We don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.”
“I don’t,” I said. “But I wouldn’t say no to canoeing. If you’re not too busy.” I’d been planning to go to another percussion workshop, but I needed a break from drums. And given what I’d done to that stick, maybe they needed a break from me.
“Nope, not too busy for canoeing,” said Adeline. “Not with you, anyway. If Caleb asked me? Well, I might suddenly have other plans. Come on. Did you know there’s a sunken rowboat in the lake? I’ll show you.”
This time when she reached out her hand, I didn’t duck away. I took it.
Fifteen
The sunken rowboat wasn’t as exciting as it sounded. I could barely see it. I’d imagined pirate bones and a treasure chest spilling gold amid the cattails, which was silly, of course, considering we were on a tiny lake by a sheep farm in northern Michigan. Anyway, only when the light through the scudding clouds glinted just right could I see the dark, hulking shape of it.
Adeline pushed her paddle deep into the water and gave it a whack. It thudded dully. A cloud of minnows and sand whirled to the surface.
“How did it sink?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been at Camp Rockaway this long without hearing about Nessie Smith,” Adeline said.
“Who?”
“She’s smaller than the Loch Ness Monster, but she can still do some damage when she’s got the blues. But don’t worry. It’s a well-known fact she only eats boys.”
“Please don’t say it’s because she likes the flavor of testosterone,” I said.
“Nope. Everyone has testosterone,” Adeline said. “It’s actually a mystery why she spares the girls. I guess she just likes them better.”
There she was, teasing again. I heard it in her voice. But somehow it was never a mean kind of teasing. It was a kind that made me feel special, like she didn’t bother joking around with just anyone.
Anyway, what was exciting was chatting with Adeline about everyday things as we paddled around the lake. Our favorite school subject (music, obviously). Our favorite movies (mine was Little Women, hers was Pitch Perfect). Our favorite books (mine was Little Women again, hers was Brown Girl Dreaming). I told her about Maki and asked if she had any pets.
“No pets,” she said. “My parents say things are chaotic enough with three kids, and considering how crazy my brothers get, maybe they’re right. But someday I’ll adopt a whole bunch of dogs, every size and color. And I’ll name them all after underappreciated musicians.”
“Like who?” I asked.
“I could tell you, but you wouldn’t have heard of them. Nobody’s heard of them. That’s the whole problem!”
Speaking of things I hadn’t heard of, that reminded me of the stickers on her guitar case. “Hey, what does it mean, ‘This machine kills fascists’?”
“Oh, the Woody Guthrie quote?” When I didn’t respond, she said, “Melly! Please tell me you know w
ho Woody Guthrie is. He’s only one of the quintessential American folk singers of the twentieth century.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know much about folk music.”
“I guarantee you know one of his songs—‘This Land Is Your Land,’” Adeline said. “He was really political. During World War Two, he wrote a bunch of anti-fascist songs. Like, against dictatorships and stuff? He actually convinced the army to draft him as a musician instead of as a soldier because he believed it was the best way he could fight. And he had this sticker on his guitar—”
“‘This machine kills fascists,’” I finished. “But with ideas, not bullets.”
“Exactly!” Adeline said. “Awesome, right? I would love to write something influential someday. So far, most of my songs are pretty basic.”
“You write songs?”
“Sometimes. I can’t compose in the stalls—I feel completely boxed in—so I end up carrying my guitar all over camp to work on stuff. That thing I was humming the other day that you asked about? There’s a reason you didn’t recognize it. I was making it up.”
“Oh. Wow.” Was there anything Adeline wasn’t good at?
“It’s what I really want to do. I like singing and playing, but that’s not my strength.”
“What are you talking about?” I said, turning around. “You’re an amazing musician.”
Adeline gave me a look. “I’m not amazing. I’m fine. And I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I’m just saying what I want to do isn’t perform. I want to be more like Linda Perry.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Yeah, she only had one big song of her own, and it was a long time ago. But I bet you’ve heard of Alicia Keys. Christina Aguilera. Gwen Stefani. Linda Perry wrote some of their biggest hits. I don’t want the spotlight. I want to be the poet behind the scenes.”
Hearing her say that somehow only made me like her more.
“Anyway, one thing’s for sure,” Adeline said. “Looks like I’m going to have to name one of my dogs Woody!”
After Adeline and I parted ways, the sky seemed to lose some of its blue. But she had to practice our songs, and we’d spent most of the afternoon together. I could hardly expect more.
In the short time I had before dinner, I swung past the craft cabin to pick up my maple seed key chain and got sucked into tie-dyeing a bandanna. I remembered how ridiculous David looked with the bass strap tied around his forehead, staring mournfully into my eyes, and laughed. That was when I knew I was truly feeling better: I could laugh again. I dyed a bandanna purple and orange to match David’s purple Wyoming Junior High shirt and hung it on the line to dry. I could give it to him tomorrow.
Olivia grabbed her usual seat next to me at dinner. “He said yes!” she crowed.
“What?” I felt like I’d walked into the middle of the conversation.
“Noel.” Olivia sounded disappointed I hadn’t guessed. “About being buddies on Sunday.”
“Oh, right. Great!” Dinner was tuna melts, and as I pulled a cheddar-oozing sandwich onto my plate I wondered what tonight’s vegetarian option was. Adeline was sitting with Yasmina, which seemed to be where she always sat when she wasn’t with us. They must have gotten really close over the years, to stay friends from summer to summer.
“Well?” Olivia said. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“He said yes,” I repeated stupidly.
“No! I mean, yes, I told you that, but how it happened.” She rushed on. “I waited until after we were done playing, and Brick and Mikey had left, and I was like, ‘Hey, you know the field trip?’ And he was like, ‘Yeah.’ And I was like, ‘Want to go with me?’ And he was like, ‘Me and some of the guys were planning to hang out. You can hang out with us.’ And I was like, ‘Cool, thanks, but do you want to go with me?’ And he was like, ‘Yeah, sure, why not?’”
As conversations went, it didn’t sound very romantic to me. But what did I know? “I’m happy for you,” I told Olivia.
“Thanks,” she said. “Did you figure out your own buddy situation?”
Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it. “I’ve got plenty of time to figure it out,” I said.
Just like that, her attention flipped back to Noel. “Hey,” she said, turning to include the rest of the table, “do you think I should sit with Noel at firebowl? I mean, now that we’re buddies, it wouldn’t be a big deal, right?”
“Go ahead,” I said. I knew she wouldn’t hear any other answer.
“Just realize Toni’s going to make you tell us all about it later,” said Shauna.
“That’s right,” Toni said. “The lights go off, and the truth comes out!”
“Okay,” Olivia said, breathing deeply. “I’ll do it.”
That’s when I noticed that even though most of the table was cheering Olivia on, Candace’s face was tight, her mouth small. I had a feeling this whole thing might turn out to be a bigger deal than Olivia thought—and not in a good way.
At firebowl, Olivia waved good-bye and went to find Noel. Adeline motioned the rest of us over to the bench she was sharing with Yasmina. I slid onto the log beside her. Toni and Shauna followed, and Damon started firebowl with a sing-along of “Sloop John B.” The music mingling with the hisses and pops of the bonfire reminded me of the scratchy old record player at Grandma Goodwin’s house.
I still wasn’t ready to join the song leaders in front of the crowd, but that didn’t bother me. Listening and singing and tapping my toes on the pine-needled earth was plenty.
Since the afternoon, the clouds had piled up on each other over the lake and trees. It seemed like you could poke the air with a pin, and water would stream out through the tiny hole. Adeline said, “Bet it’ll rain tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing beats a midnight rainstorm at Camp Rockaway. The sound of the rain through the leaves, pattering on the roof of your tent. And thunder so loud the ground shakes. Fun fact—did you know a lake attracts lightning like a magnet?”
My skin prickled as if static were already building around us. My hair stood on end. I had that increasingly familiar sensation of knowing exactly how much distance was between me and Adeline at every moment, felt a tug every time one of us shifted on the log. My head started to do the floaty balloon thing. I shut my eyes and hugged myself tight.
Stay here. Stay on the ground.
“Are you cold?” Adeline whispered.
I realized with surprise that I was shivering. “A little,” I said.
“Here. My sweatshirt’s enormous. We can share.”
She unzipped her hoodie and draped it across our shoulders—and zap. With my left side pressed up against Adeline, the tension in the air became an electrical current shooting between our arms where they touched, between our hips and knees. I looked at Adeline out of the corner of my eye, to see if she felt it, too, but she stared straight ahead, down at the fire, singing as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
Then the first drops of rain spilled from the sky, sending puffs of steam hissing into the air from the coals. The music stopped immediately. Around us campers shrieked and covered their heads. “Calm down!” Damon called. “It’s only a little water.”
But the rain pelted harder, and it was clear firebowl was over. The counselors did their best to herd us back to our campsites in a semi-orderly fashion so we could grab our toothbrushes and take care of bedtime preparations before the storm really hit. In the commotion, I lost track of Adeline.
I was drenched by the time we made it back to our tents for good. We laid our soaked, mud-streaked socks on the floor to dry out. It smelled awful, but we couldn’t put them in our laundry bags without ruining everything else. By the time we climbed into bed, our tent flaps tied firmly against the wind and rain, the entire floor was covered with wet clothing.
With our flashlights off, darkness folded around me, I felt curled inside a drum. The rain beat down on the canvas roof in flams and paradiddles. I snuggled dee
p inside my sleeping bag. My pillow was moist from the humidity, but I didn’t care. Adeline was right: this was terrific.
I wondered if my parents were watching the weather report and worrying about me sleeping in a tent in the woods in this deluge. I sort of hoped they were. Then I remembered Dad still hadn’t written me a letter. He probably hadn’t given one thought to me. I felt sick at that.
But there was nothing I could do. Nothing but close my eyes and let the rain pound and puddle in my brain so I didn’t have to think anymore.
Sixteen
It was still raining hard when Poppy gave the morning wake-up call. During the night I’d been yanked from sleep over and over as thunder crackled and boomed. I was really too old to be afraid of a thunderstorm, but it freaked me out a little not to have solid walls and a solid roof between me and the weather. I imagined lightning splitting a tree and sending it toppling onto our tent, crushing all four of us. After that I barely slept at all.
Across the tent, Shauna groaned loudly. I turned on my flashlight. All I could see of her was a few curls. The rest of her was scrunched into her sleeping bag like a neon green caterpillar. Toni didn’t even stir.
“Hey, Olivia,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Olivia said groggily.
“That’s a great question,” I whispered back.
Shauna sat bolt upright and belted, “‘Oh, what a beautiful mornin’! Oh, what a beautiful day!’”
Olivia clamped her pillow over her head. “Make it stop, please.”
Toni woke with a start. “What’s going on? Is there a tornado? Do we have to evacuate?”
I burst out laughing. I rolled out of bed, kicked my damp, dirty clothes out of the way, and peeled back a tent flap to let in some light. It didn’t look like daytime outside. The sky was the color of steel. The pine trees glistened, tiny pearls of rainwater clinging to their needles. A metallic smell hung in the air.
“Oh God, my feet are soaked!” Olivia yelled. She kicked off her sleeping bag and ducked out from under her mosquito netting to investigate. “There’s a leak! This whole corner is drenched!”
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