GOLD STAR SANDERLING

6.

Leanne Farnsberg and I ran hand in hand through the arch of trees separating the wooded path to the far side of the lake from the wide open activity field. As we rounded the corner to come face to face with the rest of camp, a friendship officially forged, it looked like the world was ending. People were scattered in any kind of purposeless direction still riding the high of the dance and sinking further into parentless revelry. The plan was to see if we could get to our bunks without anyone noticing, but all of the adults were stationed along the bottom of the hill, paying extra careful attention before they handed the reins to the Counselors. When they saw Leanne and I run up soaking wet, they sure noticed. But Leanne jumped into action. 

“I ran off from the dance. I was upset because Brendan Clark wouldn't dance with me. And so I ran away and Teddy came after me to make sure I was ok. And then I fell in the lake and he jumped in and he saved me. He saved me, “ she nodded frenetically, wide-eyed, to prove it’s truth, “I'm so sorry. It was so immature. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m so lucky he was there.”

After an excruciating moment of silent deliberation, Uncle Chuck patted me on the back. 

“Good job, son.” And then he thought for a second and added, “You just might be ready for Fire Circle.”

I looked at Leanne, oblivious.

She looked at me with a wide-eyed knowing. 

“Fire Circle?” I mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

“The highest honor at MCDC,” Uncle Chuck beamed. “Now, you two go get changed.” He beckoned to Olly Oakes and Rachel Kramer, our respective Head Counselors. “Get them warm and dry. And Olly -”

“Yeah, Uncle Chuck?”

“That boy's a hero.”

And now Olly Oakes was beaming. And he slid his hand up the nape of my neck and into my hair and guided me up to the cabin to get dry. 

After I changed into the clothes I packed for the next day, Olly snorted, “Dude, you won’t be warm enough in that, put on a sweatshirt or something.” 

I held up my soaked hoodie like it was a dead pet. He laughed a little through his nose and shook his head and pulled out a tattered, heather gray crewneck sweatshirt for me to borrow. 

“Here,” he said. “Take this.”

It wasn't clean, but it smelled good. Salty, manly, athletic, strange. I felt handsome in it. 

“That’s better,” he said, smiling at me, proud or something.

“Thanks,” I muttered, embarrassed, but thrilled.

He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me a little. Then, wrapped his arm around my neck in an endearing squeeze. Being trapped inside his armpit like that was wild and weird and destabilizing. I think I even giggled a little. He freed me, tragically, and guided me with a gentle palmed push to my back toward the door.

Traveling to the beach together, I was brand new. Everybody watched Olly Oakes when he walked by, so walking next to him was a trip. I’d never been second hand admired before. I searched for Nick, wanting him to see me like this, walking in Olly’s sweatshirt, right next to him like we were friends, like we were more. 

He was in the middle of a conversation with Dave Simmons and Jacob Goldman and a kid from the bunk below ours and two girls from Bunk 11A. And he stopped mid sentence to look at me. And so then they all looked at me. At us.

Their stares were the purest confusion. Maybe because they were just realizing I was gone. Or just realizing I hade ever even been there at all. And seeing me now in this new way. Or, for some, seeing me for the first time ever. And Olly squeezed my soft bicep twice, patted me on the back and sent me into the crowded, burning beach.

“Go have fun, Teddy,” he said leaning in to meet my face, “You deserve it.”

I turned toward my so-called peers and stood on the brink of this menacingly unstructured social exhibition. Any new found confidence waned as Olly walked away and I sought to seek out a lonely corner I could hide in until morning.

“Teddy!” I heard closing in on me from behind.

I turned to see Leanne skipping over, mostly dry, but with her hair still wet and pulled back in a bun and wrapped in a cozy, powder blue hoodie. Still quirky, but quietly cool. Without breaking her pace, she linked her elbow around mine and pulled me into her stride to join our fellow campers.

Leanne was pretty much welcomed by everybody. She was a legacy at MCDC, with a very popular big sister, and she had been attending since she was old enough for the youngest bunk, so there was a history of respect for her. She was also athletic enough and pretty enough to fit in, without losing her nerdy charm. But my appearance in the group was met with more than raised brows and silent sneers.

Before anyone could object, though, Leanne launched into our epic adventure. We both knew who the real hero was, but she insisted on telling everyone it was me. I could see Dave and Jacob squinting and shaking their heads in refusal.

Jacob, the natural dummy of the group, instinctively blurted out, “No way. That’s not what happened.”

Leanne, without skipping a beat, said, “Well, what did happen, Jacob? Ask Uncle Chuck. Ask Olly. Ask Rachel. Ask anyone who was out on the field, they all saw us coming back soaking wet. How did that happen?”

Dave nudged him and flashed him a cautionary, accusatory look, and he backed down. 

I watched Nick assessing them, glaring. And assessing Leanne, suspicious. And, then, assessing me, concerned, but also with a sort of anger. Or fear. Like I was about to do too much, or go too far, or maybe I already had. That this attention on me was bad. Bad for me? Bad for him.

He didn't say anything.  While the other boys reluctantly conceded and offered some faux congratulations.

“Good job.”

“Nice one.”

“Good man.”

And the girls gifted me with effusive praise, Nick said nothing. An internal world I couldn’t reach.

And then Leanne added, “Uncle Chuck told Olly he was a shoo in for Fire Circle this year.”

And Nick's jaw dropped and his face turned to me in doubtful disdain. 

“Fire Circle?” he scoffed. “No.”

And the blow of it sent hot shame and scorn and terror through my veins. And I could almost see him regretting it. Almost pulling it back in. But he let it stay there.

I could feel Leanne’s arm edging me along. Bolstering my worth. Fueling my power. And I looked into those familiar gray green eyes and said with as much cool, confident nonchalance as I could fake, “That’s what he said. Fire Circle. What even is that?” 

And the boys reacted with appalled incredulity, but the girls found it exhilarating and hilarious and they all pounced on me and pulled me away. And suddenly I was in their fiery circle. Being tossed down the beach and poked and prodded and tickled and asked a hundred questions like they needed me to be their best friend right now, immediately. And the cordless radio was tuned to Kiss108 and we were living in a Top 40 Janet Jackson paradise. And they yelled over the loud music and their louder voices and they told me I was a good dancer and taught me the Backstreet choreography and the bonfire towered over us and lit up the sand and the sky and it made my face feel flush and glowing red and I felt my body writhe under Olly’s second skin and among these smiling, fascinating creatures.

I caught a peek at Nick, pouting and staring at the lake, actively avoiding the fun. And I didn't know if I should be sad or if I should comfort him or if I should keep up this fight. I wanted to keep dancing, like I didn't get to when we were under the tent at twilight. But the person I wanted to dance with, when I was finally allowed to, wasn’t in front of me.

Gold Star Nick Sanderling was sulking away from the beach.

And so, of course, I followed.