Nerdplay

Chapter 11 #2

“No one’s childhood was idyllic. The only people who think that are the ones who weren’t paying attention.”

He whistles. “Wow. That has to be the bleakest view of humanity I’ve ever heard. No wonder you hide away in your nerd camp every summer. Why bother to take a chance on people when you already know they all suck?”

“I’ve taken plenty of chances with people.” And they burnt me like toast. Never again.

“Do you even have friends in real life?” he asks.

“What’s that supposed to mean? The camp is my real life.”

“I’m talking about the other ten months of the year. Do you even leave your house? Catch a movie with another local?”

“I watch movies with friends,” I say carefully.

“I’m not talking about watching a movie at the same time as someone in another state. I mean sitting in a movie theater next to someone you know, sharing a bucket of popcorn.”

“Why does it matter whether my friends live near me?”

“Because living your life online isn’t actually living a life.”

I cross my arms. “Is there where you tell me to touch grass? Because I spend the entire summer doing exactly that, thank you very much. And I don’t need a lecture on how to live outside technology from a guy who probably keeps his ringer on all night in case a client calls.

” Annoyance flickers across his face. Another bullseye.

“You act like I’m the one who doesn’t step outside of my comfort zone, but you’re the one who built an entire business around staying in hers.”

I bark a laugh. “Nice try. I love what I do, unlike you.”

My comment rankles him. “What makes you think I don’t love being a lawyer?”

“It doesn’t take a law degree to read between the legalese.

” His expression hardens, and I realize that I have, indeed, hit a nerve.

I decide to guide the conversation back to a lighter space before he leaves me stranded in the woods without a flashlight.

“Listen, I have a confession, too.” I suck in a breath and hope the others don’t kill me for this later. “There’s no prank.”

His eyes narrow. “What do you mean? You’ve been pranking me all week.”

“I know. Those were obviously real, but the one Ben mentioned… It’s a fake out. The prank is to make you worry about a prank that doesn’t exist.”

He stares at me, gobsmacked. “That’s genius.”

I can’t resist a smile. “I know, right? The most harmless prank is also the most effective.”

“You have no idea how this has affected my bedtime routine. I check behind every door, under every object.” His shoulders slant lower. “This is a relief. Thank you for telling me.”

“You deserved to know the truth. You’ve been a good sport too.” He has. If we had done this to someone else, like the Prick, he would’ve threatened to take his ball and go home. “Anyway, we’re not always the most mature group. I’m sorry.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Are you, though?”

“Okay, not really. They’ve been amazing, and I’m sad it’s over.”

He pats my shoulder. “Honesty is always the best policy.”

“Ironic policy for a lawyer. Now, how would you like to remedy your pop-culture deficiency?”

“You want me to watch more movies?”

“You sound disappointed. Do you have a problem with movies in general, or only the ones you’ve refused to see so you can maintain your Too Cool for School demeanor?”

“It isn’t a badge of honor. My family was more partial to westerns and political thrillers.”

“ Stars Wars is basically a space western. What about in college or law school? Are you telling me not one nerdy friend insisted that you watch these movies?”

“Not that I recall.”

I eye him closely. “You didn’t have any nerdy friends, did you?”

“I did. Greg Chumley. He was a bio major. We were roommates.”

“Let me guess. Your first year.”

“How did you know?”

“Because he was assigned your roommate, but you didn’t choose to room with him after that. Did you stay friends?”

He’s silent for a beat. “I wouldn’t say we established a friendship. We got along okay, but there was no bond.”

“And who did you bond with?”

Vertical lines appear between his brows. “No one.”

“Not a single person?”

“I had friends. Guys I hung out with. Girls I dated.”

“But you didn’t bond with any of them?”

“I don’t keep in touch with anyone from college or law school, so I guess that answers the question.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t know. It wasn’t a conscious decision. We didn’t keep in touch, that’s all.”

“What about the law firm? Any close friends?”

He snorts. “Only a frenemy. Matt Lyman. He and I are both gunning for the lone partnership spot this year.”

“Ooh, I love a good frenemy. Who has the edge?”

His expression crumples. “You know what? I don’t really want to talk about work.”

“Because you’re having too much fun?” I poke him in the stomach, expecting a soft landing. Instead, my finger immediately makes contact with the slab of granite that doubles as his abs. I’m surprised I don’t sprain my finger.

“I wouldn’t say too much,” he tells me. “Just enough.”

Warmth floods my body in response to the quasi compliment. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad he chose to accompany me into the woods. I’m also glad he felt me up, even if it was under the guise of saving me from an incurable disease.

I’m partially relieved when Cricket and I emerge from the darkness of the woods.

I say partially because the greedy side of me wanted nothing more than to stay in that quiet, isolated space with her for a few more hours.

Outside of the campsite, I felt like we were in our own protective bubble.

The world fell away, along with all its demands and problems. It had nothing to do with the sanctity of the woods and everything to do with Cricket.

“You should move Hugo. You parked him right underneath a tree with weak branches. If there’s a storm, your car is screwed.”

It takes a moment to register that she’s talking about my car. “Why is my car named Hugo?”

“Because it deserves better than douchemobile, and I’m confident you haven’t already named it.”

“Why would I name my car?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she shoots back.

I scan the parking lot. “What’s the name of your car?”

“Rhonda.”

“Is there a reason for that choice?”

“When I’m running late or the car is giving me trouble, I can sing ‘Help Me, Rhonda.’ You know that song? My grandparents used to play it all the time.”

“Is there a song for Hugo?”

Her eyes turn to sly slits. “If there were, would you sing it?”

Inanimate objects don’t need names. She’s trying to make a fool of me somehow, yet I don’t feel like a fool. I feel… like I’m having fun. Again.

Maybe I’m giving Cricket too much credit and I need to commit to more time away from work. I spend the majority of my waking hours holed up in my office. It’s possible that a walk to the art museum would produce as many endorphins as this conversation.

“I’m not much of a singer.”

“So you say. I guess we’ll find out for sure tonight.”

Laughter booms from my chest. “Like hell you will. I’m an observer only.”

“No such thing at Comic-Camp. Everybody sings. You don’t have to sing alone, but you have to get up onstage and participate.”

I remain noncommittal. I could always ditch the evening, although the prospect of sitting front row for a Cricket performance is too enticing to resist.

“What’s your song?” I ask.

She shrugs. “You’ll have to stay long enough to find out.”

“Are you any good?”

“Nope. Terrible. That’s why it’s both fun and entertaining.”

“You’re not embarrassed to get up there and bomb?”

“Firstly, the crowd consists of my friends. They’re my safe space, and I know we’re all there to have fun and support each other.”

“And secondly?”

“It’s healthy to step outside of my comfort zone, even if it’s only once a year. I know I suck, so I get nervous beforehand, but I do it anyway.”

“That’s what alcohol is for.”

Her smile is pure mischief. “You might want to consider “Defying Gravity.” I have it on good authority you can nail those high notes.”

I’m not a fan of catastrophe movies, but I would be perfectly happy for one of those giant meteors to crash into Earth right this moment. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Since I stood outside your cabin and recorded you singing.”

The look on her face erases any mortification I was inclined to feel. She’s absolutely delighted to finally share this nugget with me.

“You’ve been holding this card for days.”

Her smirk solidifies. “Oh, I know.”

“How does it feel to show your hand?”

“Tremendous.” She rests her hand on my arm. “So, will you sing it? I promise it’ll bring down the house.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

She smiles up at me. “Not a no then. It’s a start.”

I can’t get over how much I enjoy her company.

She’s easy to talk to—I found myself touching on subjects I never would’ve mentioned to anyone else.

I know the camp has this whole ‘no judgment’ vibe, but Cricket personifies it.

Whatever I say, I know she’s simply listening, taking it all in and that feels amazing.

There isn’t a single person in my life that I could describe in the same way, not even my mother or my siblings.

My father is an obvious no. The man emerged from the womb judging the squalid conditions.

My mother’s criticisms are subtler; they’re glimpsed in the tilt of her head and the squint of her eye.

You feel them rather than hear them. My brother will tell you what he’s thinking, although his delivery is generally less harsh than our father’s.

My sister will beat around the bush until you drag her thoughts out of her, but she makes it clear she has them.

When we arrive back at camp, we’re immediately surrounded by campers.

“What happened to you two?” Hunter demands. “I tried to track you, but I ended up by the creek.”

“That was a successful decoy move,” Gloria says with satisfaction.

Bradley cuts through the shadows and holds up the Smurf flag. A collective cheer follows. I’m swept up in the moment and feel a satisfying thrill that people care so much about this stupid game.

No, not stupid.

Fun.

“Don’t forget! Karaoke at ten in Cabin Twelve,” Cricket announces. “I need to shower first. My head feels itchy.”

“I’m covered in mosquito bites,” Fiona adds. “Does anybody have calamine lotion?”

Cricket starts toward her cabin, and I instinctively fall into step beside her. “The game was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

The squint in her eye tells me she’s wondering whether I mean the game or the woodland encounter.

“It’s only a two-week camp, Charlie,” she finally says. “‘Sometime’ is fairly limited.”

The karaoke deejay is, appropriately enough, named Melody.

I’m hardly a karaoke regular, but I can tell Melody is a pro.

She seems to know the right order for the songs and how to keep the crowd engaged, not that this group needs any encouragement.

They’re all happy to be here, and even happier to be in each other’s company. The positive vibes are palpable.

Adam hums the Star Wars theme song as he takes a seat.

Cricket leans over and whispers, “I told you everybody sings.”

“I’m not sure that one qualifies.”

“The helmet makes it difficult for him.”

“He can always take it off.”

“He will when the time comes.”

Angela slips me a gummy. “You seem like you’re in dire need of this.”

I don’t typically indulge in gummies, but I make an exception tonight for karaoke. My mind continues to hum with memories of Cricket’s bare skin and the soft curve of her breasts. It’s hard to focus on much else.

Stefan sings “Immigrant Song.” Bradley and Hunter perform a surprisingly good duet of “Creep” by Radiohead.

Fiona, Gloria, and Laura sing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” Cricket’s song is the biggest surprise of the night, with an entertaining rendition of “The Warrior.” Not sure about her vocals, but the gestures and gyrations are on point.

I would’ve assumed Joel put me off finger guns, but apparently not.

Cricket drops into the chair next to me and holds out the microphone. “You’re up, Charlie Brown. What’s it going to be?”

I wave her off. “Nobody needs to listen to me.”

“Imagine what your career would look like if you said that to your clients.” She thrusts the microphone into my hand. “You’re one of us now, Charlie. Nobody leaves this cabin without making a fool of yourself… except Stefan.”

“Yeah, he was incredible. I need him to give me some tips.”

“Have fun with it. That’s the tip.”

Someone starts chanting my name and soon the whole cabin reverberates with the same two syllables.

I make a last-minute change to my selection.

I don’t feel capable of “Defying Gravity,” so I go for “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver.

My stomach would be in tangles if it weren’t for the gummy. Well, make that two gummies.

I only manage to get one line into the song before the whole bar joins in. Before I know it, I’m in the middle of a sing-along and can’t even hear my own voice, despite the microphone. I’m perfectly okay with that outcome.

The song ends with hoots and hollers. I’m carried off the stage on a cloud of euphoria.

My head is cloudy but not so muddled that I’ll forget the way this moment feels tomorrow.

As with everything related to camp, this evening is good-natured fun with nothing to be gained except pure, unadulterated enjoyment. What a novel concept.

Melody closes out the evening with “Sweet Caroline,” always a crowd-pleaser. Afterward we pour out of the cabin, sticky with sweat. The humidity outside doesn’t help.

“Midnight swim!” Fiona yells. She takes off in the direction of the lake.

My eyes meet Cricket’s. “If I offer to race you, will you come?” she asks.

“You challenge me,” I blurt. “Nobody else does that.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like your dad spends a lot of time doing exactly that.”

“What he does is different.” I have no interest in talking about my father—how he belittles and berates me. All the be’s. “You call me out on my shit, but you do it in a way that doesn’t feel threatening or critical.”

“Well, thank you. As far as compliments go, that’s a good one.”

“You’re also very pretty.”

Her eyebrows slide to her hairline. “Did Angela slip you a gummy?”

I hold up two fingers.

“Right. Never mind. Running or swimming tonight would be ill-advised.”

A bloodcurdling screech interrupts our moment. At least I think it’s a moment. Then I hear the words that inject adrenaline straight into my veins.

“It’s a bear!”