“Just stay healthy, everybody,” he says by way of his speech. “Like, water, sunscreen. You know.” He waves at us and walks away. Joan frowns a little, then hoists the big rainbow flag on the flagpole, running it up to the top, where it starts flapping in the breeze. Everyone watches in silence, but with smiles. I admit, I grow a little teary-eyed at it every year—can you blame me? This is our special home. The scent of the wind rushes back, heavy with that smell—definitely freedom—and I close my eyes. I can’t tear up this year. Hudson is watching, and butch boys don’t cry in public.
“Okay,” Joan says, after the flag is raised. “Go unpack, make your schedules with your bunk counselors, then there’ll be some group time, some free swim, and then dinner. After dinner, the counselors are going to put on a talent show for you folks. Go with pride!” she shouts, the official dismissal.
Everyone scatters up and heads back toward their cabins, but I see Hudson coming in my direction. George and Ashleigh look at me, as if waiting for something.
“I’ll see you at the cabin,” I say. George gives me some side-eye as they walk away.
“Hey,” Hudson says, arriving just as they leave. “So, your bunkmates showing you the ropes?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It all seems so awesome.”
“It is,” Hudson says. “Like, could you ever imagine a place like this when you were closeted? No people calling you names, no people asking if you’ve tried being straight, putting you down. None of that bullying crap. It’s amazing.”
“I can’t imagine anyone bullying you,” I say, looking him over.
“Well, not anymore,” he says. “My trick is to beat them at their own game.” I don’t know what he means, but I nod like I do. “So, anyway, I just wanted to tell you you should sign up for the adventure elective.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah, I always do. It rocks. We mess around on the obstacle course and hike and stuff. Oh, and I try to take my swim class period before lunch … if you want to see me in a bathing suit.” He grins, all wolfish charm, and I feel a heat flash down my spine and legs to my toes.
“Okay,” I say.
“And, so, let’s try to hang out—just us—when we have some free time.” He bites the side of his lower lip as he looks at me, like he’s nervous.
“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out.
“Cool,” he says. “See you later.” He jogs off and I watch him go, feeling my heart rise and fall in rhythm to his legs.
“Later,” I say, after he’s way out of earshot. Then I turn around and head back to my cabin.
Inside, music is playing. A sort of vintage doo-wop vibe, but no vocals. It makes me think of really old-fashioned dancing, like where they twist their hips with their arms bent. And apparently, I’m not the only one thinking of that, because several of my bunkmates are dancing just like that.
“Randy,” Mark says as I come in. He’s our cabin counselor. “So nice of you to join us.”
“Del,” I say.
“Right,” he says, “sorry. Anyway, as I was just telling everyone, the musical this summer is Bye Bye Birdie, and to make sure we’re really living that retro vibe, I’ll be playing nothing but fifties and sixties music in this cabin. I encourage you to dance to it.” He gestures at the campers, who have managed to get themselves in synch—a semi-choreographed routine with hip swivels and tossing back their heads. “It’ll give you a feel for the music.”
“And it inspires me!” Crystal says. She’s the other cabin counselor and plays choreographer to Mark’s director. She has wavy blond hair to her shoulders and always wears loose-fitting skirts and peasant blouses. Right now she’s dancing … but not to the music, near as I can tell. Just … to something in her head.
“Okay,” I say. And I can feel my feet tapping—I want to join in. I want to dance with the rest of them. I take a step forward. Hudson is in his own cabin. He won’t see me.
So I start dancing with them. The swivels, the arms up, the head tosses. We add in a few step-forward-back moves, too. It feels so good. All year I’ve been making sure my movements are casual, clumsy, rough. I’ve thought about how apes move, swinging their arms. It’s so nice to have a little elegance back in my step. To have some rhythm. To feel like myself.
Mark turns off the stereo as the song ends and claps his hands.
“All right!” he says. “None of you are new, so we don’t need to do two truths and a lie or anything. Let’s get right to schedules. The theater elective is the first half of the day, and auditions are tomorrow, so I hope you all came prepared. As for what you want to do the rest of the day—that’s up to you. You know the drill. Put down your choices and we’ll figure it out if there’s too many campers in anything.”
Crystal hands out clipboards with the various electives on them for us to choose from. I look down at my clipboard. Outdoor Adventure is the first activity of the day—just like theater. I take a deep breath and circle it with my pencil. I miss theater the moment I do it, but I know this has to be part of the plan. I’ll miss singing, dancing, backstage chaos … last year floods my mind for a moment, all wild joy in my blood. But I’ll have it again next year. This year, I’ll give it up for Hudson. Otherwise, I won’t see Hudson as much.
George looks over and tsks. “Whatever you want, darling,” he says.
“Hudson asked me to,” I say.
“And you want to make him happy,” George says. “Sure.”
I circle the swim class period before lunch and then try to think of what Hudson would circle—sports, probably, which means a lot of touch football and kickball. That’s okay, I’ve been practicing, or at least actively participating in gym class. Luckily there’s still room for arts and crafts after lunch—the same time as George and Ashleigh. And the whole camp does a free pool time at the end of the day. When I give my clipboard back to Crystal, she looks at it confused.
“You forgot to circle theater,” she says, handing it back.
“I’m …” The words make my throat dry and I cough. “I’m not doing theater this year.”
Crystal looks like I’ve confessed to murdering her pet rabbit. She turns pink and her mouth opens and she looks behind her at Mark, then back at me, then back at Mark, until he walks over and looks at the clipboard, then frowns at me.
“Okay, Del.” He pauses, frowning, but then makes his expression soft. He looks worried. “What is … all this?” He gestures at me. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Is someone making you act like this? My therapist says sudden changes like these are usually the result of trauma.”
“What?” I say. “No. I just … wanted to change.”
“He’s doing it for a boy,” Ashleigh says.
“A boy?” Mark practically shouts. “And based on your makeover, I’m guessing he’s one of those ‘straight-acting’ types? Honey, if he’s suck—” He pauses, smiles. “If he’s kissing you, he’s not acting straight. No offense, Jen,” he says to one of the campers. “Bisexual folks can act straight and still be super queer. But we’re talking about men who don’t want anyone to think they’re gay until they have a di—” He pauses again, smiles. Mark’s gotten in trouble before for his overly graphic language. “Until they’re making out with a boy. They hate themselves, and they hate you, too. They’re not worth the time of day, much less an entire wardrobe change.” By now his voice is loud enough it can probably be heard outside. “I’m going to need to book a double with Dr. Gruber,” he says much softer to himself.