Page 93 of Give Me a Sign
“Don’t do it because the doctors want you to, or even because Mom and Dad want you to. Do it because it’s whatyouwant to do. What you think will make things best for you.”
“Okay,” he says plainly.
“And take time to think about it. You don’t have to rush into anything.”
“Okay-okay,” Max signs with a cheeky smile, trying to make a joke to end my lecture.
“Promise me?” I ask, needing to be sure I’ve gotten through to him.
“Yeah, whatever.” He steps away. But, wide-eyed, he turns back to look at me. “I promise.”
It’s time to head to the parking lot and say our final goodbyes to all the campers. Phoebe lets me roll her bag up front. The departure window is still a few minutes away, yet her parents are here early, already waiting.
Her dad takes the suitcase, while her mom gives me a smothering hug. “Thanks for helping our girl out,” she says.
“Nah,” I say, unsure how to respond. “It was fun.”
“I got an audiobook for the drive,” her mom says, returning to the passenger seat.
“Keep in touch, kid,” I say to Phoebe.
“I’m your age in, like, three months.”
“Well, I’m eighteen in, like, one month,” I say. “I’ll see you next summer. Don’t forget to tell your parents the great news.”
“You bet,” Phoebe says.
“Add me on Instagram or Twitter or whatever. If you—” I hesitate, unsure if she’s active on social media.
“Yeah, I use them. Screen readers are a thing, you know? Make sure you add alt-text to describe your pictures for me.”
“I’ll add a ‘hi, Phoebe’ at the end.”
She extends her arms wide into the air. “Hey, I’m trying to give you an awkward hug goodbye here.”
I tackle her. “We don’t live too far away, you know.”
Once she’s gone, I hang around the parking lot for a while, feeling largely unneeded. The younger kids are bursting with energy, while their parents were clearly hoping for exhaustion instead.
Honey and Blake come to find me for goodbyes. “Maybe I’ll be your counselor next year,” I say and sign to their delight.
Since Honey’s parents have arrived, I give her a big hug and am pleasantly surprised when Blake approaches her to do the same. “See you next year,” Honey signs to Blake.
“What’d she say?” Blake asks, nudging me.
I’m happy to relay the message. “ ‘See you next year.’ ”
“That’s what I thought,” Blake says, waving goodbye as Honey walks off.
Despite her late arrival, Blake isn’t the last camper to be picked up. Her dad climbs out of the truck and scratches his head. “Huh, not late this time.”
“Hey, Daddy,” Blake says, waving to him, using the sign for “father” against her forehead.
“I learned some sign language, too,” her dad calls out. He makes a thumbs-up, peace sign, pats his head, and taps his nose. Real amusing stuff. I’m proud that Blake doesn’t laugh.
“I know none of that is right,” she says.
“Toss your stuff in the back,” her dad calls out. “Long drive here and even longer drive back.”
