As I Am

by AnnaLisa Grant

  When I exit the kitchen there’s an obvious glow coming from the back corner of the room that I didn’t notice before. I tread lightly so I don’t scare whoever is there. It could be some newbie counselors looking for a quiet place to make out, but I’m hoping it’s not some eighth graders doing the same. Miller said he caught some kids trying to make out in a canoe the other day.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Go back to that other one,” I hear a young boy say. “Yeah, that one. Did you see what he wrote? That girl sounds hot!”

  I peek over the table and see three boys huddle around a something. I can’t see what it is, but by their excitement I can only imagine that it’s a Playboy or something like that. One of the boys passes the mystery object to another and it’s clearly not a magazine. It’s a large, leather-bound book. What the heck are prepubescent boys getting all hot over from an old book?

  “Hello, boys,” I say, making all three of them jump. One of them even makes a squeaking sound as they look up at me with embarrassed shock. “What ‘cha got there?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s just an old book of my brother’s. See.” The boy holds the book out in front of me so I can see that it is, in fact, an old leather-bound book.

  “You sure there isn’t some raunchy girly magazine tucked away in there?” I challenge with raised eyebrows.

  “No! See!” He opens the cover of the book and then flips through the pages, showing me that there’s nothing hidden. I don’t see any pictures, although he’s flipping kind of fast. “It’s just a book of old stories!” Sounds like those stories are a little steamy, but … since there aren’t any naked pictures of women I’m going to let it pass.

  “Alright. Back to your cabin. Lights Out is in thirty minutes, and you’re not supposed to be out of your cabin right now anyway. If I see you boys out like this again the book is mine and I’m telling your cabin leader. Do you understand?

  “Yes. Thank you! Won’t happen again.” The boys echo each other’s thanks for me to ratting them out. They scurry out of the dining hall and around the building to their cabin.

  Shaking my head I leave the dining hall and head toward the lake.

  “Hey! Where ya going, thirsty girl?” Miller asks, seeing me walking with two bottles of water in hand.

  “I’m meeting Cal by the canoes. What are you doing? Addy retract her claws long enough for you to escape?” I laugh.

  “Something like that. I pointed to something shiny and distracted her,” he says. We both laugh and I enjoy the safe camaraderie I have with Miller. The nods and knowing looks we give each other when Addy and Mia go off on one of their superficial tangents have actually become really special to me. I’ve always had my own internal eye rolling and sarcastic commentary going, but now I’m not alone.

  “You still haven’t told me where you’re going,” I prompt.

  “I’m headed to the canoe launch, too. I left the life jackets out when we had to bring a kid in to get bandaged up. He thought he was Michael Phelps.”

  “Let me guess, he’s no Michael Phelps?”

  “I’m still not a hundred percent convinced he even knows how to swim,” Miller laughs. “But before his tumble into the water off the dock, he and his buddies were working the scene for the ladies, that’s for sure. There’s this little group of them, I think from the same prep school, who think they’re God’s gift to womankind. They’re a bunch of fools, but I’ve got my eye on them.”

  “You mean there are teen-age boys acting like idiots?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Let me let you in on a little secret about guys: we’re all idiots at this age … some of us longer.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s no secret,” I tell him with a playful shove.

  “What?” he says with mock surprise before laughing. “Seriously, these guys are frat boys with no boundaries in the making. There are three of them, eighth graders, who stick together and target the younger kids.”

  “Really? That’s terrible! What are they doing?” I ask.

  “Nothing overt. So far it just looks like they act like they’re befriending the quiet, dorky types during activities and then totally dissing them, acting like they don’t know them come lunch or dinner. It’s mean, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. There aren’t any line item rules against being a tool.” Miller looks pissed, which is great. It’s a good sign when someone is angry about injustice.

  “Oh man, that sucks,” I agree. “You’ll have to point them out to me. I’ll get some good shots of them in case we need to pass them out as a public service warning!”

  Miller and I talk as we walk to the canoe launch. We stop for a minute and he has me hold his flashlight while he shows me his mad shadow puppet skills. He takes my flashlight and makes me do shadow puppets, too, only mine look like shadows of the monsters under your bed. It’s laughably pathetic.

  I like hanging out with Miller. I like it more than hanging out with Cal. I feel awkward and silly around Cal. I mumble and stumble over my words, and I never seem to know how to respond to some of the things he says. He’s brilliant and oblivious to the world around him all at once. He can segue from talking about decreasing energy dependency on other countries to attempting to crush a beer can against his forehead like it was the exclamation point to his sentence. He’s a walking dichotomy.

  Miller, on the other hand ... he’s honest, too honest at times, but honest nonetheless. What you see is what you get, and his tattoos provide quite the view. He’s quieter around everyone else, taking in and observing more than he interjects. And he gets me. I don’t feel like I have to try around him, and I really, really like that.

  I’m not sure if I should feel this way or not. Of course I shouldn’t feel that way. Cal is my … well, I don’t know what Cal is, but Miller is my friend. I should like spending time with Cal more than Miller, but … I don’t know.

  “I put the pencil down and picked up a pen. I’ve been doing some more writing. Poetry,” he says with a smile. “It’s not finished yet, but I want to show it to you when it’s done, if you’d like to read it.”

  “Really? I would love to!” I tell him with a beaming smile.

  “What would you love to?” Cal asks as he emerges from the shadowy path. He shines his flashlight in our faces for a second and we both reflectively squint our eyes.

  “Oh, um, Miller was just telling me about poem he’s working on,” I tell him.

  “Poetry is for nerds,” Cal says flatly. “But I guess the ladies like it, so … A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right, Miller?” Cal’s antagonizing him. There haven’t been any more pissing matches between them since the first night at the bonfire, but I guess it was too much to hope that they’d put all that behind them.

  “Or I could just like expressing my thoughts and feelings in a more honest and less barbaric way,” Miller retorts. Cal cocks his head to the side and looks at Miller with arrogant irritation. Miller stiffens his body in preparation for what neither of us is sure Cal’s response will be.

  “Or maybe you’re just a‒‒”

  “Cal,” I say, stepping in before things get out of hand. Cal’s body relaxes and he puts his arm around my shoulder. It’s the first time he’s done this. Miller gets that same look of disgust on his face and turns toward the life jackets that are huddled on the ground next to the bin.

  “Have fun. Try not to get lost.” He doesn’t look back or say anything else. I suppose it’s better that he subscribes to the “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” adage.

  Cal takes his arm off my shoulder after a few minutes and we’re down the path a bit. He doesn’t take my hand or anything like that. We just walk for a while, in silence … again.

  “So how’s the rock climbing wall this year?” I ask the most mundane question I can think of just to break the stillness.

  “It’s good. Not too many fat kids this year, so that’s good,” he chuckles.

  “Yeah,”
I reply. My voice is quiet and I feel like I just betrayed those kids with this one syllable response.

  “Oh, hey … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” he stutters. I feel mortified that he’s acknowledging my obvious inadequacy out loud. I want to crawl into a hollow tree, cover my ears, and hide. “Listen, Kinley, I just want you to know that even though you don’t, you know, look like other girls I’ve been interested in, I like you. You’re smart and nice, and pretty cute.” Cal smiles, waiting for me to accept this insulting declaration of his “like” for me.

  I have this feeling in my gut like I should slap him across the face or at least walk away, but I’m not brave enough to do that. Addison would, but I just stand here, staring at him, wondering if this is it. Is this what I’m destined to have? Someone who settles for me? Someone who is basically saying, “I still like you even though you’re kinda fat?”

  I’ve waited too long to say or do anything, and now it’s too late. I give Cal a small smile and keep walking, watching the path the flashlight is illuminating, and hoping their might be a hole to fall into. I’m trying to forget that, essentially, he just told me I was fat. I try to think about the positive things he said I was: smart and pretty cute. I don’t include “nice” in my thoughts because it’s such an arbitrarily descriptive word. Dave burped out half of the alphabet at last night’s bonfire and Cal declared that, too, was “nice.”

  “It’s okay. I think you’re nice, too,” is all I can say. I’ll be lying in bed later tonight and think of all the things I should have said in this moment; smart, retaliatory statements that would put Cal in his place and remind him of all the other reasons he likes me.

  “So, what about you? How’s the official Lake Hollis photographer doing?” He smiles, completely oblivious to the pain I’m trying to keep from taking over in my heart. “I’m sure you got some good shots of me and Ryan at the wall. How are all the other pictures coming out?”

  “Well, I’m getting really good shots of everyone in action. There’s never a dull moment around here. I’ve already got shots of kids in mid-air, jumping off the dock into the lake, and a few great ones of some first-timers flailing their arms for dear life trying not to fall out of a canoe. And you should see the close-ups of some of the faces of the kids as they’re half-way up the rock climbing wall! Priceless!” I tell him. “It’s been really fun.”

  “That’s cool. Do you have any from The Lodge or the bonfires yet? I’d love some pictures of the group this year. I mean, we don’t know if we’re going to see each other again, so, you know, it’d be nice to have some evidence of the fun we had here,” he says with a sentimental smile that reminds me that, at the heart, Cal is a really sweet guy. He’s just … not the guy for me. I promised Addy I’d be open, but I feel like I’ve given Cal a fair shot and there’s nothing here.

  It’s weird to even think that way. I’m always the one feeling like I’m never given a chance. How many guys have I totally crushed on who I knew if they just spent some real time with me and got to know me, would have gotten to know how great I am? Now I feel like a big hypocrite. How can I stand here and decide that Cal’s not right for me? I have to give it more time. The whole idea that Cal would be interested in me is difficult to wrap my brain around as it is. I just need to give it more time and I’m sure I’ll begin to feel differently.

  “Some, but not a lot of pictures of the gang. I’ve actually been spending a lot of time in the evenings uploading and editing pictures,” I tell him.

  “I noticed that you haven’t been around. You think maybe you could take a night off?” he says. I can’t tell if he’s smirking playfully or if that’s a smolder. Whatever it is, it’s pretty hot.

  “I’m sure I can take one night off.” I smirk back at him and he gives me a playful nudge with his shoulder.

  “Awesome,” he says as he takes my hand. Well, I suppose that’s something.

  I take a deep breath and make a conscious decision to do my best to give Cal the chance I would want him to give me. This is going to require me being more vulnerable than I’ve ever been with someone, although I’m not sure I even know how to do that. But, if Cal can show me that he can be honest and vulnerable, then I think I’ll be able to do the same with him. I smile, feeling like this is a step in really growing up, feeling like I’ve crossed over into a place I’ve been afraid to travel until now.

  “So, how are the kids? I love what I’m doing with the photography, but I’m not getting as much time with them as I did last year. I’m not getting to know them as well, except for maybe one,” I say, thinking about Margaret and the vocabulary lessons she’s been giving me. Yesterday she helped me with some Official Camp Photographer stuff and added two words to my repertoire: meraki, which has to do with the essence of yourself that you put into your work, and eutony, which is the pleasantness of the sound of a word. I have a feeling I’ll be calling on this girl for help on the next article I have to write for the school paper.

  “Yeah, the kids are good. A few stick out, mostly girls because they hang all over me and Brandon and Ted.”

  “Who are Brandon and Ted?” I ask. This seems like a dumb question, but I haven’t gotten to know the new counselors either, so …

  “Brandon? Ted? Ryan and my buddies from school? You didn’t know their names?” he chuckles.

  “Well, they weren’t exactly knocking people over to meet me last year or this year, and I figured it didn’t matter to them if I introduced myself or not. They’re pretty focused on the new girls,” I say.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyway, Brandon’s younger brother and two of his buddies from school are here. They like to hang with us, get some pointers.” Cal laughs and nods his head.

  “Pointers?”

  “Oh, well, Westchester Academy boys, of which I am one, use this summer as, sort of, a … a coming-of-age summer. We solidify our place as leaders, and pick out a few lucky girls to get some experience with before high school. They see how far they can get with a girl without, you know, doing it, and when they get back to school they’re already on their way to manhood. Making it as far around the bases without a hitting home does wonders for a guy’s ego,” he says proudly.

  “You’re joking, right?” I say with a smile, fully expecting him to tell him he’s pulling my leg. “These boys are only thirteen years old.”

  “Why would I joke about that?” he asks perplexed.

  “So these boys come to Lake Hollis to fulfill some kind of passage into manhood? And you did this, too?” I stop walking and take my hand from his, folding my arms in front of me.

  “What’s the big deal, Kin? We’re guys. We have to start somewhere,” he says, confused.

  “So you just pick some naïve girls to mess around with?”

  “Okay, hold on. I think things just got out of hand. Maybe I wasn’t explaining myself well enough. Can we … can we just calm down?” Cal takes me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. He takes a few slow breaths and I follow suit.

  “Okay.”

  “Great.” He takes a deep breath before he speaks and tries to clarify the sexist-in-training initiation the Westchester boys use Lake Hollis for. “I’m sorry I blurted out the crass description of what the guys‒‒”

  “Boys.”

  “I’m sorry I blurted out the crass description of what the boys do. They’re away from home. There are tons of girls here. A lot of them are new to even liking girls. This place has kind of become a safe haven for Westchester boys to put themselves out there with a girl. If it works out, great. If they fall flat, they’re going home at the end of the summer and they never have to see the girl again. They only come for the summer before high school. So, they can try their hardest and see where it goes without worrying about showing their face around school if they tried and failed with a local girl,” he explains. His tone is soft and I can tell he’s just trying to help me understand a guy’s point of view. I’ve never considered that guys worry about striking out and the effect t
hat has on them.

  “Why couldn’t you say it that way in the first place?” I smile.

  “I’m a guy. I’m not naturally wordy when it comes to explaining things on the fly. It can take me weeks to put together a presentation that I’m happy with for the firm.” Cal rubs my shoulders and gives them a light squeeze.

  “So you were one of these boys, putting your moves on unsuspecting girls?”

  “Yeah,” he answers slowly. “Not some of my proudest moments, but I learned a lot. I’m just really glad I’m not that kid anymore. Are we okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re okay. Sorry I got all defensive,” I tell him.

  “It’s fine. I presented the douchebag version to you. What else could you do?” We smile at each other, closing the door on this misunderstanding, and Cal takes my hand again. “We should probably make our way back. It’s getting late and Mr. Smith asked me to help him change out the ropes at the wall before breakfast,” Cal says. “Gotta change them out and rotate them once a week. Makes them last longer.”

  “Of course.”

  We walk and talk about mundane things about camp, some of it the same conversation we’ve already had. I promise him again that I’ll take more pictures at The Lodge and the bonfires, and he promises not to stick his foot in his mouth again. Still no fire burning in me for Cal Harper, but definitely feel closer to him, even after a little tiff.

  People are going to argue. Addy and I do it all the time. The test of your relationship’s strength is measured by your resiliency. If you can recover from a fight, you’re going to end up much stronger. Judging by my boiling blood, we were headed to a big one. The fact that we were able to recover, that he was the one to stop us and get us back on track, is a sign of great things to come.

  Cal stops us before we reach the clearing where The Lodge and Gateway cabins are and takes both my hands in his. He threads his fingers through mine, swinging me to face him. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, the first time this has really happened with Cal. I know what’s coming and adrenaline pumps through me at the thought that this might be the turning point and ignite the spark I’ve been waiting for.