Seth pulled out a chair for me and sat on a table, his calves swinging. I buried my face in my hands.
“Hey. It’s not that bad.” His fingers brushed back a clump of uncombed curls. The moment we’d stumbled into camp, Gollum had blasted his whistle and set us to work with only a brief bathroom break.
“Yes it is.” My muffled voice rose through my fingers. “Did you see how the Munchies left breakfast the minute we arrived? They despise me more than ever.” I sighed. “If that was even possible.”
Seth pried my fingers away, his earnest eyes meeting mine. “Maybe they were finished?”
“Jackie still had French toast on her plate. No way were they done.”
Seth shook his head. “It was whole-grain bread. Not a lot of kids ate it. Trust me. I dumped enough plates to know.”
“It
was
pretty gross-looking,” I admitted, a smile starting. I inhaled his distinct outdoorsy scent.
Seth’s sandal snagged my shoe. “At least I won’t miss the food here next year,” he said in a quiet voice.
“What will you miss?” The question popped out without thinking.
His eyes skirted mine as he scratched the back of his head. “This.” He cleared his throat. “You.”
“But you can come back next year as a junior counselor, right?” We’d discussed that possibility last summer.
“Yeah. But I’m not so sure now. I mean, I’d love to work with the kids outdoors, teach them about nature, but…”
He broke off, his eyes following mine as Matt stalked past the mess hall. Jeez. Hannah hadn’t taken long to spread her poison. And knowing Matt’s possessive side, he’d decided to check things out for himself. I gripped the chair, keeping myself from following him as he rounded the bend toward the baseball field.
“You want to go after him.”
I looked up. “Huh? No.”
Seth’s eyebrows rose. He held my gaze until I looked down.
“Okay. Yes. But we’re better off apart.”
A large hand descended on my jittering knee. “Sure about that?”
A startled gasp sounded from the screen door. Breyanna stood behind the crisscrossed wire, a jar of swimming creatures held in her hand. Her headband slid to her forehead as she twirled away.
Seth shot to his feet. “Breyanna. Wait.”
She turned and held up the glass bottle. “They changed into metamorphs yesterday and they’re ready for the release we planned. I told the kids to be ready for us.” She looked at me, mouth drooping in disappointment. “But I’ll just go myself.”
The hurt on her face echoed my own pain. They’d raised tadpoles together? Seth and I used to do that, giving them names and having a ceremony when they were big enough to survive in the river. I thought it was our special thing. But like Seth said, things had changed. And that included us.
Breyanna nudged her headband back in place.
“Go,” I whispered to Seth. I’d broken up with him, after all. I had to accept the consequences.
“Are you sure? We still need to talk.” But he was already on his feet, and that said a whole lot more than his words.
He wasn’t waiting for me any longer.
“If we’re meant to be, we’ll be. Right?”
Seth shook his head, eyes wide. “I think that’s the stupidest thing I ever said.”
He jogged after Breyanna, nudged her shoulder, and grabbed the jar. The sun shimmered through the green water, illuminating the little lives ready for their moment of freedom. I’d worked hard to have mine; now that I was all alone, I realized it wasn’t so great after all.
* * *
I trudged down the dirt path to the baseball field, to Matt. Although nearly everyone in camp seemed to hate me now, his dismissal hurt the most. Maybe it was because I understood him the best. I’d spent so long believing that Matt was “the hot guy” I was lucky to have that I hadn’t seen how much we had in common. And I knew, without question, that he would feel the sting of me spending the night in the woods with Seth. I owed him an explanation, even if we weren’t together anymore.
At the park, my fingers curled around the links in the chain-link fence above the backstop, but there was no sign of him. I remembered the day we’d arrived and Matt’s awe when he saw the field. I’d scoffed at his fascination with all things athletic. But now I saw the beauty in the pristine white bases, the perfectly shaped red pitcher’s mound and diagonally mowed grass. Who was I to judge if someone else’s dreams were worthy? Meaningful? I’d been hard on him…hard on us both.
If only he were here. Suddenly, arms wrapped around me from behind. I held back a sneeze, senses overwhelmed by a flowery scent. It was Emily, not Matt.
“Hey home girl! You looked so lonely I thought you could use a hug.” Emily’s pink gums flashed.
“Thanks, Em.” My lips refused to shape themselves into a smile, even at the sight of her red cut-off “That’s what she said” T-shirt. “You might be the only person still speaking to me.”
“But not the only person talking
about
you, right?” Her elbow dug in my side as her high-pitched laugh rang in the sweltering, mid morning air.
“Right.” A burning started behind my eyes. I blinked and pretended to study the envelope clutched in her hand.
“I have a present for you.” She thrust the envelope at me. “Alex found it behind your bunk when we were cleaning up the cabin.”
Through watering eyes, I recalled my dad’s apology letter. As the camp’s social outcast, it felt good to have a piece of home in my hands. He’d asked me to open it during our phone call. Why had I waited so long to look for it?
“Yo! Em! You coming?” Bam-Bam boomed from the main building. He jangled a pair of keys, the bright sun glinting off the metal.
“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 awesome 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.”