Olivia
Chapter twenty-five
After our canoe trip and picnic, Gage and I use the computer in the front office to search up the requirements for teaching in Texas.
We could use our phones—we’re not so remote at the camp that we don’t have a data connection—but this feels like a big internet kind of task.
Even with Gage here looking over my shoulder, I’m nervous about misreading something and drawing the wrong conclusions.
When we find the information, the excitement I felt only a few moments before leaks out of me. It’s complicated, and there are a lot of steps.
If, like me, someone has a bachelor’s degree that’s not in education, they need to apply to an educator preparation program.
There’s also a certification content exam I’d need to pass.
Admittance to a program and passing the exam is required before I could get a probationary teaching certificate, and that’s assuming there are schools willing to accept teachers with only a probationary certification.
“Well, you won’t have the probationary certificate in time for this school year, but you could start working on it after the summer,” Gage says optimistically.
Honestly, though, the thought of more classes and exams makes it hard to breathe.
I envision the hoops I’ll need to jump through to get accommodations for my learning disorder and the constant fight of making sure the teachers and exam administrators actually provide those accommodations. I’m exhausted thinking about it.
“Yeah, maybe,” I mumble.
Where I’m sitting right now, the process feels overwhelming.
“I can help,” Gage offers, and I feel even worse.
He can’t help me with my teacher certification stuff after camp ends because he won’t be part of my life anymore after camp ends. That boundary line between summer and after summer, also known as the dreaded post-Gage era, looms heavy in my mind.
Right now, I have a job. I have Gage. I’m happy. Why spoil that with thoughts of a jobless, Gageless future?
“Oh, well.” I paste on a smile and toss my hair. “I don’t have to worry about it now.”
Gage persists. “No, but—”
I cut him off. “Thanks, Gage,” I say dismissively, patting his arm.
He closes his mouth, understanding my message that the subject is closed.
I’d much rather dwell on the here and now, and the earlier today, when Gage was kissing me like he would never get enough.
My thoughts back up even more as I say goodbye to Gage and walk back to my cabin.
I remember that I agreed to go to the Carters’ Fourth of July party in Austin next weekend.
It’s been years, and as nervous as I am about being with Gage, and acting indifferent or even friendly toward him, in the midst of our families and friends, I’m also excited.
My parents will be there. And Annie. The Carters have always been a second family to me, Gage the only member I’ve avoided over the last five years.
While I’m thinking about it, I pull out my phone to text Annie.
Olivia:
I’m coming to the July 4 party next weekend!
Annie:
You ARE?
Olivia:
yes, driving over with Gage
Annie:
Why did you say no when I asked you?
Olivia:
my schedule changed. And apparently, your mom and dad want me to come
Annie:
Oh, I see. But when it was ME who wanted you to come… [wink face emoji]
I chuckle but feel guilty about how unknowingly on the nose she is. When Annie asked me to come home for the party, I said I couldn’t. But when Gage asked me … let’s just say he has ways of persuading me that wouldn’t work if his sister tried them.
The week of camp leading up to the Fourth of July is a tiring one for me. I planned special themed activities that the kids loved, but the games ended up being a pain to organize and put on.
So, when Gage and I set out for Austin and the Carters’ party on Saturday, my body is drained, but my mind is spinning. My biggest worry is Annie because she knows both of us too well. She’ll pick up on any little sign of attraction between us and pounce.
As Gage drives his Jeep up the rock-lined road that leads from Camp Prairie Star to the main highway, I warn him about being extra careful in front of his sister.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he says, “I still don’t understand why we need to hide our relationship.”
“Because we don’t have a relationship, remember?” I shoot back.
I watch him clench his jaw, then relax it as he draws in a breath. “Right.”
We’re both quiet as the minutes drag by, each more uncomfortable than the last. Now, I’m not only thinking about keeping me and Gage a secret from Annie, I’m also thinking about how Gage feels about keeping the secret and about how what he feels makes me feel.
I need a distraction.
I hold up my phone. “Do you mind if we listen to my audiobook?”
It’s a gamble, opening up to Gage about what I’m reading.
I don’t share that part of me with many people.
But maybe this offer of vulnerability will reassure him of the place he has in my life, or at least my life for the summer.
And maybe I’m also hoping it will lessen the guilt I feel for lying to him about how much of my life he owns, even if he doesn’t know it.
Gage turns his face toward me, his eyebrows raised. “Not at all.”
He sits up taller in the driver’s seat and leans forward slightly as I connect my phone to the Jeep’s Bluetooth.
I pull up the app on my screen and hit play.
“The answer is,” a familiar upbeat voice narrates, “two dozen eggs.”
Gage listens intently as the narrator continues for a few sentences. “Is that … is that the Jeopardy guy? The new one?”
I bounce my knee. “Ken Jennings. Yeah.” I pause the book.
The corner of his mouth tips up. “And this book is …?”
“Alex Trebek’s memoir,” I mumble, chewing the skin on the side of my thumb.
Gage laughs in surprise. “Why?”
My face warms. “I like Jeopardy.” I bristle, feeling self-conscious.
“Mm-hmm. I remember. We used to watch it together.” He grins at me. “But Alex Trebek’s memoir is not what I was expecting when you were so cagey about your audiobook earlier this summer.”
I think back to that first weekend when I drove Gage into town and my audiobook began playing. I hesitate before responding. “Actually, at that point, I was listening to something Molly recommended about the history and ecology of the Great Lakes.”
Gage turns his head to look at me, curiosity and surprise in his expression, before focusing back on the road.
“It won a Pulitzer,” I add, clearing my throat.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he tilts his head toward me. “Was it … was it good?”
Again, I’m ready to take offense. “Why, because how could someone like me enjoy a serious, prize-winning nonfiction book?”
Gage glances at me again, this time confusion written all over his face. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I just mean … why would you hide that from me? Or from anyone?”
I inhale, trying to calm my nerves. I’m choosing to share this part of me with Gage. It won’t help if I get defensive and jump all over him.
“I loved the book, but reading something like that doesn’t really fit with my persona. People don’t expect me to be deep.”
Gage frowns, his posture rigid. “They should, if they’ve ever spent five minutes talking to you.”
I sigh. “It’s easier to be the fun, sporty girl. That’s what I’m good at.”
He rubs a hand across his chin and shakes his head. “You’re good at a lot more than that.”
I scoff. “Are you still talking, or can I unpause the book now?”
Gage pantomimes zipping his lips shut and gestures for me to continue.
I start the book again, and we spend the rest of our trip listening to Ken Jennings narrate Alex Trebek’s personal anecdotes. We laugh at the same parts and make comments to each other.
All the while, my heart is adjusting, clicking into place, and nestling next to Gage’s.
My imagination is fantasizing about a future where Gage and I fit, where we listen to audiobooks together and spend the evening discussing them.
Where I can keep up with him, and he has no desire to leave me behind.
It’s a dangerous mindset to have right before a weekend of convincing everyone around us that I don’t feel a thing.
Annie and I scream when we see each other, launching into a hug so tight, anyone would think it’s been years since we’d last been together rather than two months. Gage makes a show of wincing and covering his ears, as if his hearing is in danger. Annie smacks him across the chest.
Even though it’s only been a couple of hours since he dropped me off at my parents’ house, my instinct is to run to him, too.
It’s harder than I thought it would be to control the urge to brush his hair from his face or wind my arm around his waist, the kinds of things I can do so freely at camp but that definitely don’t have a place here.
I exchange hugs with Ted and Dawn, who are thrilled I came.
They ask me about my plans after the summer, and I’m careful not to look at Gage when I tell them breezily that I’m still figuring that out. I laugh as if my indecision stems from having too many options, rather than none.
As the party ramps up, it’s strange to be Delaney again.
I’ve gotten so used to everyone calling me Olivia at camp—thanks to Gage—that I almost don’t recognize that “Delaney” is me.
Ted’s Patriotic Punch doesn’t help. It is strong, and I’m feeling the effects after one cup.
At one point, Annie repeats the name Delaney three times before I respond, concern and curiosity written on her face as I deflect with a quip about Camp Prairie Star to the small circle of people around us.
Delaney is my name here in the real world. Delaney, who is cool and unbothered, confident even when she has no plans beyond the weekend. I slip into the role on the outside, but inside I’m a mess of doubt and insecurities.
Everyone wants to know what I’m doing after my position at Camp Prairie Star ends. Everyone wants to know if I’m dating anyone special. By the time Ted launches the fireworks show, my cheeks ache from holding this phony smile in place.
Annie, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice, especially since I’m real with her about everything other than Gage when we’re alone. I assure my best friend that her brother and I are friendly, that we are capable of being together in the same room again.
Meanwhile, Gage and I all but avoid each other at the party, which is probably for the best when I don’t want to reveal our secret.
From across the yard, I watch Gage interact with his parents’ friends.
I watch the way his mouth tips up in that adorable, charismatic smile of his.
The way he really listens as an elderly neighbor talks to him, and he makes her feel like she’s the most important woman in the party to him at that moment.
I watch until my vision turns hazy with … tears, I realize with surprise. I blink them back, glad Annie went inside to use the restroom and can’t see me like this. She’d want to know what’s going on, and I can’t tell her that.
What’s going on is that I’m in love with Gage. Again. Still. Always.
But now I’m in love with the man he is today. The fun, thoughtful, sweet man I’m so proud he grew up to be. And at the same time, I’m in love with every version of him I’ve ever known. I see them all in his eyes, all wrapped up inside his perfect heart.