Page 20 of That Summer Feeling

At once, the world opened up. Every leaf came into focus, their spindly veins holding droplets of dew that were suddenly so plump I could nearly taste the water on my tongue. My heart’s construction crew hammered away with reckless abandon as I found a small brown bird resting on a branch.

“Wow,” I gasped. “I think I see a yellow-billed cuckoo.”

“Stop it. No, you don’t,” Stevie said.

I leaned forward—not very far, not breaking our touch—but enough to be playful. “Oh yeah. The... plume gives it away. That rich green? I’d know it anywhere.”

“Why would ayellow-billed cuckoo begreen?”

“That’s the thing. This one is.”

“Incredible,” she said. “The second I get reception, I’m calling the Audubon Society and letting them know.”

“Thank you.” I continued inspecting the very ordinary-looking brown bird. “Never seen anything like this in my thirty-two years of life. Maybe they can call this the Magnusson-Moore cuckoo. I’m willing to share credit for the discovery. Only because you lent me the binoculars.”

“That means a lot to me, seeing as I’m the one who fostered this new passion you have for birds.”

“I will always credit the passion you foster in me,” I said.

Stevie scooted back until she was no longer touching me.

This was not the first time I’d managed to say something inappropriate, but I sincerely hoped it would be the last. It wasn’t in my nature to make suggestive jokes, so the urge I had to do it around Stevie mystified me. If I’d offended her, she didn’t give me time to apologize. She just pulled her phone from her shorts pocket and said, “Shit. We need to get to the main hall for the team announcements.”

“I think we have some time. The twins were still eating breakfast when I left to find you.”

“So? We need good seats. We have to see everyone’s faces when they call out what teams people are on. You can tell by someone’s face whether or not they’re gonna take the competition seriously.”

I hoped she could not see in my face exactly how little I wanted to participate in this. She clearly did not see my abysmal beer pong effort as the looming bad omen she should have. Talk about a missed sign.

Our steps fell into a matching rhythm as we emerged from our hidden alcove and set ourselves back on the regular paths. The synchronized walking made me think of a processional.

Maybe if I changed my mind and Ididend up marrying her brother, my wedding would be nontraditional. As most second weddings were. Perhaps Stevie could walk me down the aisle? She was the key to all of it. It would make sense.

I shook my head, stopping myself. It was another one of my classic daydream scenarios. Mason and I had drunkenly swayed to Enrique Iglesias, and not at all passionately at that,and I was already imagining my alternative second wedding with him despite not wanting to get married ever again or expecting anything serious to happen with Mason.

There was no way to know my future if I never stayed in the present. So I took to looking at the trees again. Breathing in and out.

Appreciating that I was alive and I was here, and that was the best I could do.

8

When Stevie and I made it to the main hall, all three of her brothers arrived right behind us, breaking into a sprint to grab seats. Running was completely unnecessary. The other campers were filing in one or two at a time with no sense of urgency, and every single one of them opted to leave the first two rows vacant.

“Hee-haw!” Mason called out as he sailed past me. He fell into his seat, and his brothers swiftly followed suit until all three of them had crash-landed in the front row, nearly knocking over the remaining chairs.

Stevie and I took spots beside them. Immediately, all four of the Magnusson siblings started speculating about who would be on what team. They engaged in truly nauseating levels of competitive banter, shit talking one another, making bets on who would win and who would come in last.

Frank the poor sport received most of the antagonization.They loved to remind him of what a sourpuss he could be, and it was the exact kind of ribbing I wasn’t built for. It made me feel so bad for Frank, and also grateful to my own sister. She could be competitive too, but she knew me well enough to know I couldn’t handle being dragged through the mud for my faults.

Mason encouraged most of the insulting, I noticed. That would be a fight we’d have later on. We’d have to discuss how he needed to be more supportive. He’d probably tell me I didn’t care enough to try and win. I saw it all unfolding, and I had to stop myself again.

Stay in the present, Garland. Stay here.

In the very last row, I spotted Dara sitting with legs crossed, chatting with two people I recognized from yesterday as her cabinmates. Thanks to the name and pronoun tags Tim and Tommy had everyone wear, I’d learned their names were Aja and DJ. Aja was a beautiful Black woman with an infectious, beaming smile, and DJ was a white nonbinary person who wore a button-down with cats on it. They had a disposable camera on a lanyard around their neck. Dara looked at ease with them. I never understood how she made friends so quickly, because it seemed to me like she didn’t put in much effort, and effort was practically my middle name.

Tim and Tommy arrived, starting with a speech about how excited they were to be able to do this. They’d had the entire competitive element of the camp planned without their input so that they could participate too. They’d been so thorough with every facet of this experience, it really did feel like a completely different world from the one all of us knew outsidecamp. No one was bound to their jobs or their personal connections here in the mountains. Instead we were defined by our cabin numbers and, soon, our color teams. Our names were going to be picked out of a hat to ensure the teams were randomized.

“About eighty percent of our campers signed up to participate in the color games, so we’re lucky enough to have eight members on each color team!” Tim said excitedly.