And what am I supposed to say?Mom, I know this heart transplant is important, but I worked really hard on my science fair project and I want you to see the full display when I set it up at school. Dad, I know your patient had a psychotic break last night, but you promised we’d make pancakes together this morning and surprise Mom for her birthday.
I’m not supposed to take up time and space, not with my parents. They’reneeded.They save people. If they find out I’m gay and they aren’t okay with it, I’ll become another burden. At least right now, I can tell myself their jobs keep them busy, that it’s nothing I’ve done to drive them away.
Camp Refuge proved that I’m more than capable of driving people away…
Hannah shifts in her seat, twisting her mouth.
“Okay,” says the girl who usually has a comeback or an answer for everything.
Her response hangs there like a lifeline and a rejection all at once. The shortness of it nearly breaks me, threatens to deepen the small crack already pushing us apart.
“Hannah, I want us to be okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want to figure this out without losing you.”
She sighs, her shoulders relaxing. “I want that too.”
I take a deep breath, laying all my thoughts across my mental table. I’m afraid of how my parents might react if they find out, but I’m also afraid of what will happen if I keep denying the truth and push Hannah so far away that she doesn’t come back.
“What if we give this a real shot? Being friends, I mean. Like, really try to make it work in a way that’s doable.”
“Friends,” she repeats, skepticism in her voice.
“Yeah,” I say, more certain. “I know things are weird right now, but I think it’s because we’re both focused on the fact that we’re not in a relationship. But we could be friends. What if we focus on being friends?”
Hannah fixes her gaze out the windshield, thinking, before she locks her eyes on mine. I can see the conflict there, mixed with hurt and longing. But there’s something else, maybe hope. “If being friends is what we can do right now, then let’s do it. But we have to be honest with each other. No more pretending everything is fine when it isn’t.”
I swallow, the relief washing over me. “No more pretending.”At least, not with her.
Hannah reaches across the center console and gives my hand a quick squeeze.
As I get out of the car, I realize that while I don’t have all the answers, at least we’re trying. And maybe, hopefully, that’s the first step we need.
Chapter ElevenTHEN
At the end of the first week at Camp Refuge, one of the senior counselors was eager to show us the infamous ravine. Even though I knew some of the other counselors from church, Jameson was the only person I was close to. The boy’s cabins were separate from the girls, so I had no one to head up there with. At least, that’s what I thought.
But then Hannah showed up. While my campers were soundly asleep, she met me around the back of my cabin at the window I’d made a habit of sneaking out nightly. And even though by that point I was a pro at jumping down from the sill, Hannah still held out her arms to catch me and soften the landing.
“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” I asked.
“Depends. Why are you nervous?”
Maybe because I was about to strip down to the bikini Kristen had convinced me to pack, in front of counselors who I’ve known since we were sharing Eggo waffles and syrup-soaked sausages over Crayola-colored pictures of Moses parting the sea. Maybe because this was the big moment when Jameson mightsee me as more than just his sister in Christ. Maybe as his girlfriend, or prom date?
Or because underneath all those incredibly valid concerns was the fact that I felt like an impostor. I’d never been the kind of girl who wore a bikini while night swimming, acting out a fantasy where she shocked everyone by showing them what lies underneath her knee-length skirts and crew neck blouses. Honestly, my dad or Mrs. Patricia might have called it dancing on the line of sin. But in reality, it was just a silly game of teasing among a bunch of horny teens that, until this summer, I never dreamed I’d be part of.
And, yes, I was participating, but I wasn’t into the shock value. These girls were an average size four and under while I came in at a whopping eight by comparison. Plus, without a flat ass and narrow hips, my bikini bottoms were a size ten.
“This was a mistake,” I said, stopping completely.
We were already running late because I couldn’t figure out the wraparound ties on my bikini top, and now I was spiraling at the realization that once I took off my oversized T-shirt, I’d be revealing my oversized everything to everyone, including Jameson—who had a six-pack. Why did I let Kristen talk me into a bikini? All of this could’ve been avoided with my safe and secure Lands’ End tankini top and skort bottom.
“It’ll be fun,” Hannah said, her voice even. She didn’t sound at all impatient, which made me feel even worse.
“I feel like… I feel fat,” I finally said.
Hannah’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. You’re super fit from, like, field hockey. For some reason, all black Christian boys are decked out with muscles—”