The room collectively nods like this is deeply valid.
More hands go up. One by one, the kids pass the flashlight and share:
“My dad yells when he’s mad but I know he loves me.”
“I’m scared of sleep ‘cause I have dreams where everything’s loud.”
“I don’t remember my mom’s laugh anymore.”
A silence settles over the circle—not heavy, just full. Like a space finally made big enough to hold everything.
Then one kid says, “I like this. We should do flashlight circleeveryday.”
Brandt nods. “Same time tomorrow.”
“Can we have snacks next time?” another asks.
“You’re holding a granola barright now,” West says.
“I meant bonus snacks.”
Everyone laughs. And in the center of it all, the little fake fire flickers on, construction paper flames dancing gently as the circle starts talking again, no flashlight needed now, just voices and soft truths and the safest place they’ve had in a long time.
It’s 87 degrees. The sun is a ruthless God. A truly deranged obstacle course sprawls across the grass, made from pool noodles, rope, hula hoops, tarps, and something that looks suspiciously like the inside of a car wash.
West adjusts his ball cap like a drill sergeant having a spiritual crisis. His face is covered in camo war paint, and his fatigues are Army issue.
“I didnotapprove the sprinkler tunnel.”
“You did when you were eating a popsicle and distracted,” Jax says, proudly pointing to the PVC monstrosity he built out of plumbing and zip ties.
Brandt finishes drawing the final chalk finish line. “Obstacles include: the tire drag, hula-hoop limbo, the pool noodle crawl, a squirt gun ambush, and then the final sprint.”
“And emotional damage,” Nash mutters. “You forgot emotional damage.”
McCormick claps his hands. “Alright, troops! Two teams. Kids vs. Counselors. Losers clean the juice cooler.”
The kids erupt in shrieks of glee. The counselors do not.
“I’m not running,” Mandy says immediately.
“You don’t have to,” West tells him. “You can keep score.”
“Iwillcheat,” Mandy warns.
Brandt winks. “That’s the spirit.”
The race begins with West hurling a whistle into the air like a grenade. The kids surge forward like a snack-fueled army. Counselors follow, most limping within the first ten feet.
Brandt’s yelling “We move as a unit!” even though he’s already halfway to the sprinkler tunnel.
Jax is ambushed by three kids with neon water guns and falls dramatically into the grass like he’s been mortally wounded. “Tell my story,” he gasps.
McCormick hurdles the hula hoops like a majestic buffalo. Nash dead-ends himself in the tire drag and refuses to crawl. “I’m notgetting down there.You don’t know what lives in that grass.”
A small child throws a granola bar at him. “Coward!”
Mandy watches from the shade, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between horrified and faintly amused.
