Chapter 15 Listen to Your Gut （at Least Occasionally）
Daniel, unfortunately, does not get his ass kicked. Instead, he and Jacob win the competition and the honor of taking home two gold trophies engraved with the words Best Smasher! in huge block letters.
I lean into Noah, who is watching Daniel accept the trophy with a distant look in his eyes. I didn’t know my brother wanted to win the competition that badly. In an attempt to comfort him, I joke, “Mom and Dad will be glad you’re not bringing those atrocities home, you know.”
“True,” Noah snorts, then looks down at his feet.
With his lips pressed together tightly, jaw clenched, and shoulders slumped, he seems almost defeated.
Nothing like the ray of sunshine he usually is, whether at school or summer camp.
I can believe he’s disappointed that he didn’t win against Daniel and Jacob, but my brother really isn’t competitive enough to be this sad over it.
Meaning…something else has to be up. Something he isn’t telling me.
I look around for a second, then grab Noah by his elbow, dragging him away even though he protests in confusion.
“Ellie? What’s going on?” he asks me the moment I release my grip on him.
We’re far away enough from the group to have some privacy. “I should be asking you that question,” I tell him gently. “I know I’m not that good at reading people, but clearly something is upsetting you. So tell me: What’s going on?”
I can see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say, but after a few seconds of holding eye contact with me, he looks away. “Nothing’s going on,” he tells me.
I feel my own shoulders slump, too. Even though he’s not looking at me, I shake my head. “We both know that’s not true. Listen,” I try, “I might sound like a massive hypocrite right now after shutting you out for over two years, but I thought we were going to let each other in again.”
“We are,” he confirms.
So I ask him once more. “Then tell me. Please. What is going on?”
“God, I don’t even know, Ellie!” he tells me, his resolve breaking. As tears start to leave his eyes, I pull him into my arms, shocked. I let him lean on me because it seems like he needs to but also so I can squeeze him and reassure him that, here, he’s safe with me.
“I don’t know what’s going on with me,” he confesses after a bit of silence, more quietly this time.
Fragile. Unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him.
“At camp, I honestly feel fine, but now that it’s coming to an end tomorrow morning…
I just don’t know how I’m going to get through another boring year before we can come back here.
” He takes a deep breath, as if gathering all the strength he needs to say, “Back home, I can have the best day, the best week, the best year even, in theory, but when I’m alone with my thoughts, I get this almost…
hollow feeling. Like I’ve given everything I can possibly give, and it’s so tiring.
At least here, I don’t have that. Here, I feel like I’m actually alive instead of stuck in that miserably boring town. ”
I pull back from our hug to look at his face, swallowing as I process his words. “How—how long have you been feeling like this?”
He smiles sadly through his tears. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It feels like it’s been a forever kind of thing.”
My heart sinks even further. How have I never noticed Noah was feeling this way? Even with the distance I put between us, I thought I always knew how he was doing. He smiles all the time, he jokes around at any chance he’s given, and nothing ever seems to bring him down.
To me, he always seemed like a person who had his life together, someone whose life was relatively easy, but I guess it turns out we’re both very good at masking our feelings.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.
“It’s fine, Ellie. I’m fine,” he tries to assure me as quickly as possible, but I shake my head just as fast.
“Noah, no. We’re not going to minimize this.”
He looks away again. “Can we at least have this conversation another time?” he tries. “I promise I’m not trying to run from this; I just want to have a fun last night at camp that doesn’t include analyzing whatever my feelings mean. Okay?”
My first thought is Absolutely not, but then he says, “Please, Ellie…” and I know I can’t deny him this.
“Okay,” I tell him, and he relaxes, even as I add, “but you have to tell Mom and Dad you want to see a therapist by the end of this summer. Deal?”
Noah nods. “Deal. Thank you, Ellie.”
I keep my promise—for the rest of the night, we don’t talk about it.
We just enjoy our last evening together with our friends, ending the summer the same way we started it: with a campfire at the beach.
The same campers and counselors from that very first night sit around the fire, chatting and laughing just like before.
It’s almost like I’m back to the start of this summer.
Except this time, the salt air around us isn’t filled with possibilities.
Instead, it tastes like a million bittersweet goodbyes.
We lie on our backs, none of us able to see the others’ faces as we gaze at the stars above us instead.
“I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye tomorrow,” Sloane whispers into the night when we seem to have run out of other things to talk about.
“We could just stay here for the rest of the summer, playing games and sharing stories and just being happy together. Why does this summer even have to end, actually?”
“It doesn’t,” Maya says, clearly in denial, too. Then, in a whisper I only barely catch: “Not yet.”
A while later, Gigi stands up to speak. “Before we all leave, I’d like to say something,” she tells all the campers sitting around the campfire. I happily focus on her instead of the fact that summer is really coming to an end. But then she starts her speech with “Not to get sappy or anything…”
Instantly she’s answered with boos from all around us. One of the other camp counselors, Sam, even begs her to “Please stop right there, Gigi. We’re too fragile right now.”
“Thanks for the encouragement, y’all,” Gigi says simply, her smile only getting brighter.
“As I was saying, I don’t mean to be a big sap, but I have some things to say about these past two weeks.
” She takes a deep breath before continuing.
“I’ve always said summer camp is the perfect opportunity to do the things you’re too scared to do back home.
Maybe that’s the reason you came here in the first place—to escape home and its expectations for a little bit—or maybe you’re really passionate about beach volleyball.
Whichever it is doesn’t matter, because in the end, we all have this in common: We yearn to fit somewhere. Anywhere, even.”
For a second, her expression turns serious.
“Some of us are more sensitive to this than others, but I genuinely believe we all change parts of ourselves in order to belong sometimes. It might be subconscious, or we might be fully aware of what we’re doing.
The point is,” Gigi continues, “summer camp is indeed the perfect opportunity to do the things you’re too afraid to do back home, like showing certain parts of yourself.
I sincerely hope that these past two weeks have given you the courage to do so either way. ”
She scans the faces all around her, her smile falling back into place. “That said, let’s enjoy our last few moments together, shall we? You’re not leaving this campfire for another hour, after all! Plenty of time left to do what we do best: make some more unforgettable memories!”
I look around as people cheer, some immediately getting up to run to Gigi. They wrap their arms around her, waiting for more and more people to do so until, eventually, I find myself joining in on the massive group hug, too.
From the middle of the imperfect circle we’ve formed, Gigi tells us one last thing: “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for these wonderful two weeks, my sweethearts. It’s been an honor to watch each and every one of you grow both on and off the court.”
I almost break at her words. With every passing second, I can feel the weight of these past two weeks get heavier, but I can’t give in to my emotions just yet. This night has to be perfect, after all.
Dozens of campers sit around the fire, talking and laughing and roasting marshmallows. They seem to have appeared out of thin air, just like the guitar that is now being passed around and played by various people.
I’m not paying too much attention to the music, instead trying to keep up with what my friends are talking about, but then someone starts playing a very familiar song.
The song that was playing when Daniel and I shared our first kiss.
Without thinking, I turn around, hoping my eyes won’t find who I think they’ll find, but of course they do. Of course he’s sitting there, looking all smug while my stomach turns and turns and turns until I’m scared I’m actually going to throw up.
You can’t, I tell myself firmly. Don’t let him ruin your last few hours here.
So I spin back to my friends, trying to ignore Daniel’s soft voice as he starts singing. I try to focus on the story Yasmeen is telling, but I only manage to catch a few words.
“You look pale,” Sierra informs me then, frowning as she takes me in. “Like, really pale. Even more than usual. Do you need some water?”
Reflexively, I shake my head. “I’m fine. Just a little bit lightheaded, I think,” I say, sounding like I’m out of breath. Maybe I actually am. At this point, I don’t know. Because Daniel is giving me that look as he sings our song.
The crease between Sierra’s brows doesn’t disappear, and she follows my gaze to where Daniel is sitting, singing that stupid song and looking over at me.
“Is he doing something to upset you?” she pushes, after which she curses to herself.
“Shit. I should have thrown a ball in his face while I still had the chance.”
“No,” I say. “Daniel didn’t do anything. This just always happens when I get overwhelmed. It’s the autism,” I joke.
“Okay,” Sierra says slowly, but she still doesn’t look convinced. Then: “Be right back.”
She’s walking away before I find the energy to think about what she could possibly be up to. But when I do, a loud OH NO sounds through my head.
Because what else could she be planning to do if not to curse out Daniel?
When I turn to look where she went, though, it’s Gigi who is by her side, walking up to me. “Hey,” she says, the sound just a whisper. Still, it makes my head ache. Even my own breathing is making my head ache right now. “I think it’s best if you take tonight off to rest.”
Immediately I look at Sierra and shake my head. “That’s— I can’t do that. This is our last night together, and I have to enjoy every second that’s—”
“Let me put it differently,” Gigi interrupts, still careful. Soft. “Tonight is not going to be an enjoyable memory for you if you keep crossing your own boundaries, Ellie. Please listen to yourself and take some rest.”
“But I’m fine! Really,” I insist, but Gigi shakes her head.
“I know what being close to a meltdown looks and feels like. You can’t fool me.”
I try to come up with a reason to keep going—because I have to.
My being autistic shouldn’t ruin my last night here…
but the truth is, my head feels like a storm cloud.
My thoughts blow by rapidly, surrounded by a dark fog that makes it impossible to see them clearly.
It’s weighing on me, and all I want is to lie in bed so I don’t have to carry my own far-too-heavy head anymore.
The feeling is so exhausting that I can’t even find the strength to protest anymore. “Okay. I’ll go.”
I let Gigi take me back to cabin 4. We’re quiet the whole walk there, but once she opens the door for me and tries to wish me a good night, I break. Finally, after all these years of holding them back, I let the tears that have been piling up behind my eyes roll down my cheeks.
“I don’t want this to be over,” I tell Gigi, feeling myself fall apart bit by bit.
“Oh, honey,” Gigi says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before I climb up the bunk bed ladder and drop onto my mattress. “You’re allowed to cry because it’s over, you know, but please don’t forget to smile because it happened,” she whispers to me, and then, before I know it, sleep finds me.