Chapter 17 As a Wise Woman Once Said Let It Go
The moment I wake up, I’m hit by the knowledge that my time at summer camp is quickly running out, but if I had somehow managed to forget, Maya’s alarm sure would’ve reminded me.
“Is that ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’?” I ask them, barely able to keep my eyes open as the familiar song blasts through their phone.
“It sure is,” Maya says, and judging by the sound of shuffling sand, they’ve somehow already gathered the strength to get up, even though nothing about the dark sky above us makes me want to get up.
“I thought it’d be fitting. Now let’s all get our asses back to our cabins before Adrian notices we’re gone and kills us, or worse: before I get emotional while Wham! is playing.”
Even though the thought of crying with this song on in the background feels ridiculous, it’s a valid fear. We don’t say it yet, but we all know what today marks: the end.
No matter what, when these last few hours are over, we’re never going to get to relive this summer—not really.
Sure, we’ll have our memories, loads of pictures, and probably also the ability to replicate the feelings coursing through our bodies right now, but we’ll never be here, living in this moment, again.
The thought terrifies me so much that for the next few hours, after we go back to sleep and are later woken by Gigi and told to pack our bags before breakfast, I can’t go even a few minutes without calculating how much time I have left to enjoy being here.
Three hours, then two, then only an hour and a half.
The counting stops only when Sloane and Veronica announce they are done packing, leaving me and Sierra alone in cabin 4. As soon as the door closes behind them, time, which has been moving so quickly, stops again.
Because, oh my god, Sierra and I kissed last night, and I haven’t said a single thing to her yet, too caught up in my own overthinking.
It’s not that I regret what I did, but I can’t deny that the late hours made me bolder than I usually am. Now that it’s daylight again, I know I realistically can’t ask her out. Not when I’m unsure if I can deal with the consequences of us being together.
Even after an entire summer of working on my confidence, of trying to make other people’s opinions not matter to me, I don’t think I can handle people at school targeting me again.
Though I hate to admit it, Daniel had a point.
Even just associating with Sierra could do damage to my carefully built reputation.
I shouldn’t care. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m not dumb.
My feelings for her go so much further than just wanting to associate with her, which would mean burning my reputation altogether and not letting the flames get to me.
But the truth is, I’m scared I would simply burn right with it.
No. Even if I assume Sierra feels the same way I feel, I can’t date her while I’m still unsure about who I am.
Sierra deserves to know as much.
“About last night…” I start, quickly putting the words out there before I get cold feet.
Still, I can’t bring myself to look her in the eyes.
“You’re probably going to think I’m a selfish bitch for kissing you while I’m still figuring things out, and I wouldn’t blame you for that, but I just wanted to ask if you could please not tell anyone about…
it? This is all very new to me, and I just don’t know if I can—”
“Breathe, Ellie,” Sierra says then, getting up to sit down right next to me.
As she’s walking over to me, I wonder if she’s going to kiss me again, if she knows that I’d let her, but then she stops moving once we’re side by side.
“I would never out you, okay? So don’t even worry about that.
What happens at camp stays at camp,” she promises, reaching her pinkie out to me.
I link mine with hers, exhaling in relief as I say, “Deal.”
And I don’t know about Sierra, but in that very moment, as we sit there, just looking at each other for a few seconds, my heart is filled to the brim with warmth. All caused by one simple touch.
If we kissed right now, I think I’d explode, but for the first time in my life, I crave to be overwhelmed. Because it’s worth it if it means I get to be closer to Sierra Levine.
An hour and twenty minutes later, the faces around me are the exact same ones that were here a couple of weeks ago, at the first campfire.
There’s only one big difference: Today I recognize all of them.
I spot the person with the blue buzz cut who I played charades with on the very first day here, the guy who I talked to only briefly but who still managed to make me laugh, and the young girl who absolutely humbled me when I played volleyball with her.
Each person I see brings back a new memory, a new feeling, a new story.
A new goodbye.
I hug the people who are leaving, no matter how little interaction I’ve had with them, until…
“Ellie and Noah Young, your parents have arrived!” Gigi yells through a megaphone, closely followed by Maya gasping, “NO, PLEASE, NOT NOAH AND ELLIE! TAKE ME INSTEAD!”
I almost manage to laugh because of that, but nothing about the mass of people coming to hug us is funny.
I embrace what feels like a hundred people in two minutes.
They keep coming, and my voice is choked with emotion as I tell each of them goodbye.
Because even if we’ve only had a small, meaningless interaction once or twice, the fact that I’m most likely never going to see these people again hurts.
It’s the ending of something that never truly began, leaving me with numerous what-ifs and no tangible evidence of loss.
No broken heart, just a weird feeling that makes it beat in an unpleasant rhythm.
But then, once the hugs stop coming every three seconds, it’s time to say goodbye to our close friends, and I feel the cracks start to form after all.
Everything is silent as I turn to Sierra, Sloane, Veronica, Liam, Yasmeen, and Maya.
There’s so much left for me to say to them, so many stories I still want to share and jokes I want to make, but nothing I come up with right now feels right for this moment.
So I open up my arms for the next person to fall into, saying one simple thing.
“Come here.”
As I hug Maya, then Yasmeen, then Sloane, and so on and so on, I let myself lean on each of them, knowing they won’t let me fall.
In response, they squeeze me tighter. When I get to the last person—Sierra—tears are streaming down my face.
Just as I want to tell her goodbye like I did with the others, she whispers, “See you at school, okay?”
I can’t bring myself to do anything but nod, and then it’s really over. Even the goodbyes are behind us.
“We’ll text,” I tell my friends, and they all agree, whether silently or aloud. As Noah and I turn around and follow Gigi to our parents—each of us looking back too many times before our waving group of friends is officially out of sight—that’s what I hold on to.
We’ll text, we’ll text, we’ll text, I repeat in my head over and over again. We’ll text, and everything will be fine.
But then I’m in Dad’s familiar black car, listening to both my parents express how happy they are to see me and Noah again, and I break down completely. Tears quickly cover my cheeks as a sound I didn’t know I was capable of making leaves me.
Noah grabs my hand, squeezing it gently while I try to breathe, a silent signal that he’s here for me as Mom shoots one simple question at me, eyebrows pulled into a concerned frown: “Do you need me to make an emergency appointment with your therapist?”
I quickly shake my head. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” I say between ragged breaths. “But…thank you, Mom,” I tell her, my tears falling quicker and quicker. “And Dad. I love you both so, so much.”
Mom’s eyes soften, some of her worries fading away but clearly not all of them. “We love you, too, sweetie. Are you sure you’re doing okay?”
I think about that for a second. I’m crying, and my heart is beating abnormally fast, and I feel so much sadness, and yet…
“Yes, I think I’m okay.”
She relaxes, if only for a few short seconds. Because that’s when Noah clears his throat and cuts in, “Speaking of therapy, though…”
I immediately get what he’s going to say, and this time, I squeeze his hand, hoping it comforts him even half as much as his presence comforts me. He takes a deep breath, after which he continues talking.
“I’ve been thinking. My life is pretty great.
I have great friends, great grades, the greatest family, and I like to think I have a great future ahead of me, too, but…
I’ve been struggling these past few months,” he admits, voice trembling.
Another inhale, then: “I don’t know what’s going on with me, in all honesty, but I do know I’m tired.
A lot more tired than I should be. And I think it’d be a good idea if I tried out therapy, too. ”
Mom and Dad don’t interrupt Noah as he talks, except if you count the occasional nod to let him know they’re listening.
There was never a single doubt in my mind that our parents would be understanding of everything, but I still feel Noah’s body relax when Mom says, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear this, but thank you for telling us. ”
“We’re here for you, son,” Dad adds. “When we get home, we’ll get you an appointment as soon as possible, okay? We love you.”
That’s when Noah breaks as well. “Thank you,” he says. “I love you, too.”
“But,” Dad continues, straightening his back as the roads flash by, “may I now ask what in god’s name happened at that camp?”
My brother looks at me, a smile on his face as he gestures for me to go ahead, and I can’t help but laugh through my tears, too. “Well, it all started with a list…”