Gage
Chapter nine
At dinner, Olivia’s back to sitting as far away from me as possible. I didn’t mean to make things weird by complimenting her smile during the CPR training. It slipped out. To be fair, I have a hard time concentrating when Olivia smiles at me.
So now, she’s down at one end of the table, surrounded by several of the other female counselors whose names I can’t remember, and I’m on the other end of the table. Matt, the counselor from the cabin next to mine, sits across from me.
Brynn approaches and takes the seat next to me, setting her plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes on the table.
“Hey, Gage!” she chirps as she settles onto the bench well within my personal bubble.
“Hey, Brynn,” I greet her, quickly scootching over to put a few more inches of space between us. “Have you met Matt?”
Like Olivia and me, Matt is also new on staff this year.
We seem to be in the minority. Camp Prairie Star has a lot of returning counselors, many who started working here during college and now are on their fourth or fifth summers.
Some of them even attended camp here when they were kids.
Matt is younger than me, still in college, so maybe this will be his first of many summers at Camp Prairie Star.
It will be my one and only, I already know. By next summer, my life will be fully occupied by my doctorate program. I knew coming in that this is my only chance to experience a summer at Camp Prairie Star and hopefully connect with where I come from in the process.
Matt and Brynn finish their introductions, and meanwhile, Brynn has somehow closed the gap between us again. Our thighs are almost touching already when she leans closer and puts a hand on my arm.
“So, Gage, what’s up with you and the new girl?” Brynn asks.
I lean away, but I’m already at the end of the bench so I can’t scoot any farther over. “We told you already, she’s friends with my sister.”
Brynn hums. “She made it sound like it was a bit more than that.”
I freeze. Really? “What, uh … what did she say?”
She shrugs. “Something like y’all almost dated once?”
Even though “almost dated” is a fitting description for what happened between us in high school, it also feels like a vast understatement.
I’m equal parts disappointed and intrigued.
I’m intrigued that Olivia would admit even that much to a total stranger.
I’m disappointed that “almost dated” might actually be how she categorizes our past together.
I still have so many unanswered questions.
How was our time together not as earth-shattering for her as it was for me?
What happened at graduation that made her stomp the brakes?
Her excuses—not wanting to deal with a long-distance relationship, not wanting to upset Annie, that she thought we were better as friends—were weak, especially since we stopped being friends after that, and the two of us not being friends is actually what upset Annie.
I realize Brynn is still waiting for my response. “Oh … uh, yeah, something like that.”
Matt lets out a low whistle. “You hooked up with her?” he asks, jutting his thumb toward Olivia’s end of the table. “Congrats, man. She’s hot.”
And this is how rumors get started. I hold up my hand. “No, nuh-uh. First of all, we’re talking about high school. This was, like, five years ago. And we didn’t ‘hook up.’ We were just…”
I’m not sure how to finish that sentence. Just finally, finally creeping toward admitting our feelings for each other? Just flirting like crazy for weeks after going to prom together as “friends”? Just sharing the most incredible kisses I’ve ever experienced?
“We just went to prom together,” I finish lamely. “As friends.”
Brynn tilts her head. “Delaney said something about pining.”
My ears burn. Olivia told Brynn that I’d been pining for her?
Before I can respond, feedback screeches through the room as Linda taps on the microphone to check whether it’s on.
“Hello? Hello?” She blows into it and looks up at us. “Is it working?”
“Yes!” a handful of staffers chorus out loudly.
“Oh, good! As you finish eating, please make your way out to the fire circle. I’ve got a great icebreaker planned to help all of us get to know each other better.”
I slide off the bench to clean up my food—and to escape this conversation. Still, Brynn sticks close to me as I scrape my plate and deposit it in a bin of warm, soapy water along with my silverware.
She’s right at my elbow as I walk out of the mess hall toward the fire circle. “So, you’re not interested in Delaney?”
I stop walking and look down into Brynn’s face. “No, I’m not interested in Delaney.”
I justify the lie by rationalizing that I find Olivia a heck of a lot more interesting than Delaney.
Olivia is the girl I’ve known since I was twelve and the one I fell for back in high school.
The hope that Olivia is still Olivia underneath all that Delaney is what keeps me too interested for my own good.
Brynn smiles brightly and hooks her arm through mine as we start walking again, following the crowd to the fire circle. I don’t shake her off, even though I want to.
I look for Olivia as we arrive and see her in a patch of trees on the periphery of the circle, gathering sticks.
Two other counselors are laying bundles of kindling in the fire pit on top of four large logs.
The assistant director, Linda’s son Troy, squirts some lighter fluid onto the pile, strikes a match, and tosses it in. Within minutes a fire is blazing.
Olivia approaches Linda with an armful of sticks. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but Linda motions toward the fire pit, and Olivia adds her kindling to the pile.
My eyes follow Olivia as she takes a seat near the same group of women she ate dinner with. She glances at me once but quickly turns back toward the front as Linda calls us to attention.
“For tonight’s icebreaker, I’m going to ask a question, and each of you will get a chance to answer as we go around the group. But only the person holding the sharing stick can talk.”
Sharing stick? Are they for real with this?
Linda turns and bends down, searching the ground behind the log benches. Her mouth pinches, and she says something to Troy, who frowns and drops to his knees, his eyes on the leaves and dirt around him.
The counselors murmur to each other until Linda straightens and calls, “Has anyone seen the sharing stick?”
We all check around our feet and behind us, but I don’t see anything resembling a sharing stick. “What does it look like?” I ask.
Linda purses her lips. “It’s a skinny stick about a foot long. On the top are leather tassels.” She goes on to describe something that sounds very much like a regular stick, but with flair.
Olivia glances back at me again, but this time, she’s grimacing.
Before I realize I’m moving, I slide onto the bench next to her.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
She turns her head and startles. “Where did you come from?”
Everyone else still has their eyes pointed at the ground, searching for the stick.
“What’s wrong?” I ask again.
Olivia scrunches up her nose. “The sharing stick,” she mutters under her breath.
I try to make sense of those three words in conjunction with her uneasiness. “You’re concerned that the sharing stick is lost?” I ask, trying to puzzle out why this would bother her.
“No!” she whispers. “I know where the sharing stick is.”
I glance around near her feet but don’t see anything. “Where?”
Without turning her head, she shifts her eyes toward the fire, then back to me. Her exaggerated movements are funny, despite her obvious discomfort, and it’s all I can do to hold back my laughter. Then I realize what she’s trying to tell me.
“Olivia. Did you throw the sharing stick in the fire?” I hiss out, not wanting anyone to overhear. But I can’t stop the loud snicker that comes out of my mouth.
“I didn’t mean to!” Olivia murmurs, the corners of her mouth quirking up. “I thought it was a regular stick!”
“A regular stick with tassels on it?”
The smallest nervous giggle escapes her lips. “I did think that was a little weird—”
Silent laughter shakes my shoulders as I try to catch my breath.
“What do I do?”
I wipe the tears from my eyes and look at her. “You have to tell them.”
Olivia frowns. She nods decisively and stands up, clearing her throat.
“Um, Linda?”
The camp director straightens from where she’s literally digging a hole in the dirt in her search for the sharing stick. Does she think someone buried it?
“Did you find it?” Linda demands.
“No, not exactly. But I do know where the sharing stick is.”
“You do? Where?”
Olivia winces. “In the fire. It must have gotten mixed in with my bundle of kindling.”
Linda chuckles. “What?”
Olivia’s mouth is set in a line, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “Unfortunately, I’m serious. The sharing stick is in the fire.”
Linda’s face goes slack. I can tell she’s trying to maintain composure. “You’re saying that the Camp Prairie Star official sharing stick, that has been a part of camp tradition for thirty years, is burning up as we speak?”
Olivia shrugs. “Or already ashes. Wood that old would probably burn quickly.”
I choke back a laugh.
Linda takes a step away from Olivia. She opens her mouth and closes it again without saying anything.
Olivia rushes to add, “But hey, it’s okay, I’m sure we can find another stick to be the new sharing stick. I can start looking now!”
Linda sinks down onto the log bench. By now, the other counselors are whispering to each other, passing the news that Olivia tossed the sharing stick into the fire from person to person until everyone is staring at her with heated expressions.
“She burned the sharing stick?” someone whispers.
“I can’t believe her! Doesn’t she have any respect for tradition?” says someone else.
“My dad used that same sharing stick when he came to camp here,” comes another lament.
A quick study of Olivia’s expression tells me that while she feels bad about accidentally destroying the sharing stick, she’s also bewildered by how seriously everyone is taking it.
Olivia’s mouth is appropriately turned down and her hands clasped apologetically in front of her, and no one who doesn’t know her well would be able to see the glint of amusement in her eyes. It’s as if they're screaming “Are you people for real? It’s only a stick!”
I sigh and step in. I clap my hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Hey, everybody, I know this is a tragedy. RIP sharing stick. But we can’t let it spoil the whole evening! That is not the Camp Prairie Star way!”
This gets a few murmurs of agreement from the crowd, so I keep going. “What we need to do now is honor the sharing stick by sitting around this bonfire and sharing the heck out of our feelings.” I pump my fist in the air to punctuate my suggestion.
The other counselors love this. I even get a smattering of applause.
Linda rises purposefully from the log bench. “Gage is right!” she exclaims, her voice still a little wobbly with emotion. “This is a dark day in Camp Prairie Star history, but the sharing must go on!”
Everyone cheers and gathers back around the fire pit. They all find seats but give Olivia a wide berth, eyeing her with suspicion.
Holding back laughter, I cross the proverbial picket line and sit with Olivia. She grabs my arm. “What the actual—” she swears in a low voice next to my ear. “Gage, is this a cult? Are we in a cult?”
I laugh as quietly as possible. I don’t want to be ostracized like Olivia, after all. “I think we’re safe,” I whisper back to her.