Page 37 of Give Me a Sign
“Not going well?” I call out, bunching up the ends of my jacket sleeves in my hands as I walk over.
“Nothing’s dry enough,” Ethan says and signs. “I’ll be right back.” He jogs off down the path in the direction of the craft barn and dance barn.
“Why are you here? It’s raining,” I say and sign to Isaac.
“Rain is almost finished.” He shrugs. “Want to————,” he asks, along with a familiar Y-shape sign, but at the moment I can’t remember it.
“Again?”
“S-t-a-y?” he fingerspells.
“Right, stay.” I smile. “Maybe...”
To sweeten the deal, Isaac stands, reaches into his backpack, and pulls out his beach towel, resting it across the drenched bench for me. He also rips a few blank pieces of paper from a beat-up sketchbook and crumples them in his hand, stepping back into the circle to toss them under the big logs. He picks up a lighter that’s been sitting by my foot, dries it off with the edge of the towel, then squats by the fire like a little green frog.
Flames consume the kindling, and soon, a proper fire is burning. Isaac jumps up, holding both arms out to the pit, showing off his creation. He bends down again to carefully fan the flames, throwing a few more pieces of crumpled paper inside.
“Nice work,” I sign. I can’t stop staring, totally amused, so I gesture toward his outfit. “Where’d you get this?”
“I don’t know, it’s so old.”
He sits beside me, and I lean away, thinking the water droplets I felt were from his poncho, but it turns out the rain is pickingback up. Isaac quickly undoes a few of the plastic buttons on the side of his poncho. He throws the dismantled green sheet over both our heads and backs, so we both huddle together.
“I thought the rain was almost finished...” I sign, but I don’t really mind, because we’re pretty cozy at the moment.
“Whoops, hopefully soon,” he signs one-handed. He looks back at the fire. “Still going!”
“For now.” I glance around, realizing Isaac and I have been alone for a while. “Where’s Ethan?”
“I don’t know.” But Isaac doesn’t look around. Instead, he crosses his legs and spins his body on the bench to sit and face me. But he doesn’t say anything. Does he want to tell me something?
I wait as long as I can comfortably bear him looking at me, until I sign with a smile, “What’s up?”
He shrugs. “Long rainy day.”
I nod in agreement.
“So many bracelets!” He holds up an entire arm’s worth of about twenty dangling bracelets, which were not-quite-skillfully threaded by his campers. I take a moment to brag and show off my equally large collection.
“My camper Honey made, like, eight of these,” I sign.
He points to the one made of colorful duct tape and raises his eyebrows in question.
“Oh,” I say. “I made that one. Looks okay?”
“Nice.” He smiles, running his fingers over the smooth weaving. “You’ll have to make me one.”
I press my lips together, trying to not look too eager. “Sure, I will.”
He peers out from under our cover to look back at the sky. “I want it to finish!” He looks back at me, his eyes wide withsincerity. “If we have to play more indoor games tomorrow...” He shakes his head. “No, thank you. But,” he starts with a sparkle in his eyes, “I’ll beat you every time in Honey, If You Love Me now.”
“No, no, no,” I sign, tapping my fingers together close to his face. “When we play again, I’ll win.”
“Really? Are you sure?” He squares his shoulders toward me again and leans forward. I can see his breath in the cold air. “Honey... if you—”
“Noooo...” I do the motion once but hold the O-shape on my mouth. Then, I start chuckling.
“See, I win again.”
