As we walk past them and trudge up the path like sheep being herded by T-shirt-wearing border collies, I turn to Carolyn. “So you like Jane Austen?”
She smiles. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. What’s your favorite?”
“Pride and Prejudice. It’s cliché, I know…”
“It’s cliché for a reason,” I tell her. “Because it’s freaking amazing.”
She laughs. “What’s your favorite?”
“Persuasion, I think. I don’t know, I guess I can relate to it. Everyone I know always seems to think they know what’s best for everyone else.”
Carolyn lets that sit for a moment and then leans toward me. “Hey, Lexi?” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re in my group.”
Another little thrill goes through me, but this time I stop myself before I get too carried away. Carolyn and I are friends. That’s all.
I smile. “Me too.”
Chapter 6
The dining cabin is a lot different from the cafeteria at school. It’s smaller, the lighting is warmer than the buzzing fluorescents I’m used to, and instead of a window where you line up to get your food, there’s a simple table set up with a yellow plastic tablecloth and one large woman named Mrs. Wykowski heaving food out of square-shaped pans onto people’s plates. We don’t get a choice—tonight it’s macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, and sweet tea. The four of us get our food and sit at the end of a long table.
When everyone is seated, Mr. Martin leads the saying of grace. I sit with my head down and listen.
“Dear Lord, we thank you for the bountiful gifts we are about to receive, and we thank you for sending these sixteen young people to spend their summer with us here at New Horizons. We ask that you shed your light on them and guide them as they work toward inheriting your kingdom and following your righteous path. Amen.”
“Amen,” we echo, though I notice a few campers, including Carolyn and Matthew, stay silent.
I wonder what Mom’s doing right now. I hope she got home okay. She’s probably sitting alone at our kitchen table, saying grace of her own, echoing Mr. Martin’s plea for God to guide me along his righteous path.
I pick up my fork but barely even have time to dig into my dinner before Matthew jumps right back into our conversation from the carpet cabin.
“Daniel, don’t you realize that you are normal?” he says. His words come out in a rush, and I can tell he’s been itching to say this since Daniel told his story. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Yes, there is,” Daniel says, staring at his plate. His voice cracks a little.
“No, there isn’t.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t want these feelings. I want God to take them away.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m a Christian,” he says. “That’s why.”
“But then shouldn’t you believe that God made you this way for a reason?”
“I think he’s testing me.”
Matthew rakes his hands through his hair in frustration as Daniel’s words linger in the air. The two boys look to me and Carolyn, wordlessly asking us to back them up. Carolyn pushes a piece of macaroni around on her plate with her fork, obviously not wanting to get involved.
I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what. I don’t agree with Daniel that this is all some big test, but I can’t side with Matthew either. How can I, when I want to change just as much as Daniel does?
Before I can come up with something to say, Matthew redirects his attack. “And I don’t get you either, Carolyn.”
She looks up, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“You want to get married? You want a family?”
Carolyn nods.
“Great, so do it,” he says. Carolyn looks at Matthew like she’s not sure what he’s getting at. After a moment, he elaborates. “Get the white dress and the wedding cake and the photographer and everything, move to New York or Massachusetts or any of the other states where gay marriage is legal, and marry a girl. You can still have everything you want, and you’d be a lot happier.”
She purses her lips. Matthew’s argument is a good one, and it seems like she knows it. “But what about children?” she says finally.
“What about them? You’ve got a uterus. All you need is a sperm donor.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t get it,” she says quietly.
Matthew sighs. “I think I’m the only one here who does get it actually.” He wraps his arms around his head like we’re giving him a migraine or something.
“Guys,” I jump in, trying to sound lighthearted, “it’s only our first day here. Maybe we can just agree to disagree?”
“But—” Matthew clearly isn’t ready to give up, but I cut him off.
“Look around,” I say, gesturing to the dining cabin at large. In one way, it does look like a school cafeteria—divided up into cliques. Some of the campers are deep in conversation with their group members; others are awkwardly silent. The counselors are sitting at their own table, talking quietly, keeping their watchful eyes on us. “The four of us are going to be spending a lot of time together this summer. I’m thinking the next eight weeks will be a lot easier to get through if we stick together.”
“I agree,” Carolyn says.
Daniel nods. “Me too.”
Matthew isn’t convinced though. “Hellooo, that’s exactly what I was trying to do! I was trying to be a friend.” He looks me in the eye. “I know you know that, Lexi.”
I deflect his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable. What makes Matthew think I’m on his side? Does he think he sees something in me? I might not have been so sure about this whole de-gayifying thing at first, but I’m more convinced after meeting Kaylee and the other counselors and seeing Mr. Martin’s family photo and listening to his analogies about sickness and addiction. I’m beginning to think I can really do this. Not just for the summer, but for real.
And anyway, even if I did understand where Matthew’s coming from, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I think about any of it. I just shake my head.
Matthew sits back in his chair. “Whatever. Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”
I shoot him a grateful smile. “What do you want to talk about?”
He shrugs. “Anyone seen any good movies lately?”
***
It’s weird being in the dorm with all the other girls. The room felt a lot bigger when it was empty. Now it’s a frenzy of chatter and curtains being dragged along their metal rods and girls hurrying to claim the two bathrooms before a line forms.
I watch them in awe. I’ve never known anyone who was openly gay before. Until today, I was all alone. And now I’m part of something.
New Horizons is all at once terrifying and thrilling.
With four beds between ours, Carolyn and I are nearly on opposite sides of the room.
Brianna is on dorm duty tonight. “Lights out is at ten p.m.!” she announces. “So you have thirty minutes to get changed and ready for bed.”
“But it’s barely even dark outside!” a girl with curly strawberry-blond hair whines.
“Designated sleep times will be observed by all campers, Melissa,” Brianna responds sharply.
Melissa mumbles something else, but I don’t catch it.
“You should close your curtains for privacy while you change, but you must keep them open at all other times,” Brianna says to everyone. “You’ll find your sleepwear in your top drawer.”
I pull a pink thing from the dresser and have to clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the shriek that is trying to force its way out. It’s a nightgown. I haven’t worn an actual nightgown since I was about three. I usually sleep in ratty old T-shirts and boxer shorts. And this monstrosity is not only bubble-gum pink,
but it also has frilly ruffles around the sleeves and neck and a cinched waist. And it’s polyester. I feel itchy just looking at it.
“Oh, hell no,” a girl’s voice carries over the top of my curtain. “You expect us to wear these?”
My thoughts exactly. I’d rather sleep in a straitjacket. I peek around the curtain. It’s Jasmine, the girl whose bed is next to mine. She’s got very short, dark hair and tiny earrings up the entire length of her ears. She’s standing with her arms crossed, the nightgown dangling by her side.
Brianna steps closer to Jasmine but makes no effort to lower her voice. “Yes, I do.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t just wear our own pajamas.”
“It’s not your job to understand, Jasmine. It’s your job to follow the camp rules.” Her gaze travels down to Jasmine’s neck and she sucks in a breath. “Where is your cross?”
“I took it off. I can’t sleep with anything constricting my neck like that.”
“Put it on. Put it on right now.” Brianna’s face is as pink as the room’s décor, and there’s a vein protruding from her forehead that looks like it’s seconds away from bursting. All the other girls have stopped what they were doing and are watching now.
Jasmine just stares at Brianna like she’s suddenly sprouted gills. But after a minute, her face goes slack, like she’s decided it’s not worth the fight, and she yanks the curtain closed. She reemerges a few moments later, dressed in the nightgown, the bottom hem grazing her shins. The cross shimmers under the nightgown’s ruffly collar.
“Ah! See how lovely you look?” Brianna says, instantly calmer, her face breaking into a pleased grin. Jasmine looks like she’s ready to punch somebody out.
I retreat behind my curtain and pull on the nightgown as quickly as possible. I keep my own necklace on—it’s clear now the cross was less of a gift and more of a requirement. Then I crawl into my small bed and slide under the covers before anyone sees me in this getup.
“Everyone, please open your Bibles,” Brianna says once we’re all in bed. “The last thing we do here at New Horizons each night is read a verse from the Bible together. It gives us something to think about as we drift off to sleep and something to unite us as we look forward to tomorrow. Let’s start at this end of the room.” She points to me. “Alexis, will you please read Matthew nine, verse twenty-two aloud?”
I flip through the pages until I find the right passage. “But when Jesus turned and saw her he said, ‘Have courage, daughter! Your faith has made you well.’ And the woman was healed from that hour.”
“Very good. Thank you, Alexis. Good night, ladies.” Brianna turns the lights out, and soon after, the sun’s final remnants fade away.
I stare into the darkness, feeling…well, weird.
I’m in a new bed, in a new state, surrounded by new people, wearing something I never would have agreed to wear just yesterday. I’m already changing. After just one day.
I have about a million feelings about that, and they’re too new and confusing and formless to be able to break down into any sort of coherent order right now. So I just focus on the one thing that I know for sure: Mom is going to be so happy. I did the right thing in coming here.
I turn over and face the wall. The room is quiet. No one dares speak for fear of being yelled at by Brianna, who is lying in her own bed, in her own nightgown—though hers is white—just feet away from us. The only sounds are the songs of the frogs outside the dorm window, soothing us, serenading us to sleep as if they know how trying today was.
I slowly drift away into a restless sleep, where I dream that Carolyn and Zoë are getting married. They stand in big white dresses and recite their vows before Pastor Joe as I sit in the front row of the church, dressed in the pink nightgown, holding hands with a boy.
Chapter 7
When I wake up the next morning, Carolyn is gone.
It’s really early and everyone else is still asleep. But Carolyn’s bed is empty and neatly made. I get out of bed and tiptoe to the bathrooms—they’re both vacant. I look out the window, but all that’s out there are woods and a rabbit hopping across the grass. Could she have left? Did something Matthew said make her change her mind so drastically that she couldn’t even wait till morning to get out of here? Or did something bad happen? Maybe she was rushed to the hospital with appendicitis or had to go home suddenly because of a death in the family.
I’m about to wake Brianna up to see if she knows anything when Carolyn comes in. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s wearing workout clothes—sports bra, cropped leggings, running shoes.
For a moment, I’m speechless. She’s sweaty, her face is bright red from exertion, and she’s slightly out of breath. Her ab muscles pulse as she takes a swig from her water bottle. She smiles at me, her lips wet from the water or sweat or both, and something strange happens—I feel like a hand has clenched around my insides and is tugging, urging me toward her, and I suddenly feel very warm. Hot, even. Like I’ve been hit with a fever. I have to remind myself to breathe.
She’s even more beautiful now than she was yesterday.
And here I am, in this ridiculous pink sack, probably with major bedhead.
I snap out of it and immediately step away from Brianna, suddenly aware of what a terrible idea waking her would have been.
“Hey, Lexi,” Carolyn whispers.
“Hey,” I say, attempting to discreetly smooth my hair. “Where, uh, were you?”
“Running,” she says, as if it’s obvious. Which, of course, it is.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to leave the group.”
“I got special permission from Mr. Martin yesterday. I was so glad when he said we could come to him with any special requests. I couldn’t go a whole summer without running—I’d go crazy.”
So she’s an athlete. It makes sense. She doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her. That’s even more evident now, looking at her in her form-fitting workout clothes, than it was yesterday—and it explains her tan. “Wow, so you run every day?”
“Yeah. I do about seven miles every morning. I went easy today though because I wasn’t sure of my route.” She checks the pedometer that’s clipped onto her sneaker. “Five point three miles. Not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” I say. “That’s amazing. I can’t even run one mile in gym class without stopping to walk.”
Carolyn laughs. “Okay, well, I guess I should go shower. See you later, Lexi.”
As soon as she’s out of sight, sanity cascades over me like an ice-cold rainfall. I can’t keep getting so unnerved around her. So she looks hot in her workout clothes. So what?
I figure I might as well use this time while everyone else is asleep to claim a shower of my own. When I emerge from the bathroom twenty minutes later, the scene is a lot different from when I left. The girls are all up now, some of them already dressed for the day (in pink, of course) and some still in their nightgowns. Deb, Barbara, and Kaylee have joined the group, and each counselor is assisting two campers, giving them what looks like style advice. There’s a lot of miming and gesturing to hair and clothes and stuff.
I go over to my end of the room, where Kaylee and Jasmine are midconversation.
“But why?” Jasmine says. But it doesn’t look like she really wants a response to whatever her question was about, because her hands are clasped tightly over her ears, like she’s trying to shut out the noisy room.
Kaylee reaches a hand up and tries to gently pry one of Jasmine’s hands away. “Because it’s all part of the process, Jasmine,” she says. “It’s important.”
“What’s important?” I ask.
“Lexi! I’m glad you’re here!” Kaylee says, whirling around to face me. But then her face changes as she sees what I’m wearing: cutoff shorts that have been spray-painted silver and an off-the-shoulder white T-shirt with a black bra strap peeking out. “
Where’s your uniform?”
“Oh, um, I didn’t know what we were supposed to wear, so I thought I’d just put on my own clothes for now.” I don’t add that I was kind of hoping that once I was dressed, no one would say anything and just let me stay in my own stuff for the rest of the summer.
The corners of Kaylee’s glossed mouth turn down. She goes to my dresser and pulls out a few things. “Please change into this. This is your day uniform.”
I pull the curtain closed and spread out the items on my bed. It’s the same thing the other girls are wearing, and no better than the nightgown. A baby-pink lightweight cap-sleeved sweater, a white tank with an eyelet lace collar to go underneath, and a matching light-pink skort with white pinstripes. Plus white strappy sandals with a little heel—a non-pink version of the ones Brianna was wearing yesterday.
My first thought is, how the hell did they know what size I wear? But I guess my mom must have told them when she signed me up.
My second thought is, skorts? Really? Shorts that look like a skirt. Probably invented by the same genius who came up with the spork.
“Lexi?” Kaylee calls through the curtain. “Are you almost done?”
“Just a minute!” I say. With a deep sigh, I change into the New Horizons outfit. At least we get to wear our own underwear.
When I pull back the curtain, Kaylee and Jasmine are still arguing. “It’s not gonna happen,” Jasmine says, shaking her head, her ears still covered.
“We aren’t leaving this room until you take them out.” Kaylee turns to me. “Her earrings,” she explains.
The Summer I Wasn't Me Page 5
