Page 42 of Wildfire
The kids are currently having an hour break after lunch to keep them out of the sun at the hottest time of the day and give them a chance to wind down after a morning of horse riding, archery, and volleyball. Making my way across the camp, I immediately spot Russ and Emilia watching something near the Brown Bears’ cabin.
“What’re you doing?” I ask as I approach the two of them. I’m immediately greeted with shushing. Russ points toward a shaded area beside the cabin, where several of our campers appear to be coordinating a routine of sorts. Blocking the sun from my eyes withmy hand, I watch in silence with them for two minutes before asking again, “What’re you doing?”
“We’ve been trying to work out what they’re doing for five minutes,” Emilia says. “But we can’t decide if they’re playing together or plotting to take over a small country.”
“Maybe it’s a ritual,” Russ clarifies, shrugging when I glare at him, confused.
“You two should not be left in charge of children. They’re clearly practicing for the end-of-summer talent show. They must have been here before. Smart to get a head start. We should have done that.”
“Sorry, back up,” Russ says, stepping in front of me, eyebrows pinched together. “Why should we have done that?”
I lower my hand. “My favorite thing about you is you’re big enough to block out the sun,” I say, referring to his six-five frame.
Emilia shuffles closer to me, standing in the shade Russ creates. “Oh, you really are.”
“Aurora, why did you say we should have been practicing? Practicing what exactly?”
“Did Xander not tell you about the talent show? Everyone has to do something, including the counselors. They’ll announce it on Sunday most likely; that’s what they used to do when I was here.”
I’ve never seen him so distressed, and I’ve just spent a week watching him awkwardly stumble his way through compulsory sharing about himself. His jaw is tight as he chews the inside of his cheek, and I struggle to stay focused on his concern as my mind begins to wander to the image of him dancing on a stage.
“Are you gonna throw up?” Emilia asks, taking a step away from us.
“I have no talent,” he says.
I want to tell him that’s not true, since I’ve personally witnessed what he can do with his mouth, but that is counterproductive to our fledgling friendship.
“I’m sure you do,” I offer. “What about hockey?”
“I can’t play hockey at a talent show. Can I cheer you on from the audience? It’s better for everyone if I’m not involved.”
“No, you have to do it. I love the talent show. I look forward to it all summer. The kids do, too.”
He sighs, tilting his head back to the sky before looking at me again. “It’s really important to you?”
I nod. “I was tutored when I was younger because we traveled with my dad’s job. I didn’t have school plays and talent shows. This was the only chance I had, and it made me feel less lonely.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Promise?” I ask, holding out my pinkie. “You have to come to all the rehearsals.”
He links his pinkie with mine. “Promise.”
“That was Aurora’s really wholesome way of emotionally blackmailing you into participating, Russ, and you fell for it,” Emilia says. “Have you considered showing hockey through the medium of contemporary dance?”
“You’re the goalie, right?” His reaction switches to surprise and he nods. “I’ll throw stuff at you and you can block it. There. Talent.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, he slides it to the back of his neck, digging his fingers into his skin to ease out tension. “Why does this feel like you just want to throw stuff at me?”
“You know her so well,” Emilia jokes, turning her back to us to watch the kids dancing around again.
Russ smiles, the dimples of his cheeks making me lose my train of thought until he speaks again. “Maybe that’s my talent.”
“You don’t need to feel nervous,” I say quietly so only he can hear me.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
