“You know it. I’ll sign my jersey for you.”
He had sounded so confident. I tried to replicate his confidence, but I had more of a crippling anxiety disorder.
When we didn’t talk, we wrote letters as if it were 1995. Max’s letters were filled with doodles and dumb jokes, while mine were filled with random pictures I thought he’d like. He swore he kept them all, saying I was his favorite artist. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but he’d pinky promised. And Max didn’t break those.
We even had friendship bracelets. Our tether to a summer filled with friendship.
But as camp crept closer, I couldn’t shake the ache of knowing this would be our last summer together. College was waiting, pulling us toward different paths.
One night, while painting my nails and listening toCreepon my stereo, we talked about everything and nothing. Vanderbilt came up; his dad was pushing for it. Max pretended he didn’t care. Then, out of nowhere, he said:
“What are you thinking about?” His voice was deep now, really deep. But it still held that same aloofness: funny, goofy, justMax.
“How I can’t wait to see you in a few days.”
I heard his smile over the phone before he spoke.
“Me too. I can’t believe we get to be in the same counselor group this year.”
We had been counselors since we had turned sixteen, but hadnever been placed together. I loved that we would finally get to lead a group together for our last summer at camp.
“I know,” I laughed. “Whoever decided that hasn’t met us yet.”
I was met with complete silence on his end. In my defense, I wasn’t a comedian, but he usually would at least entertain me with a small laugh. He seemed pensive; I could tell that he was deep in thought.
“Do you think it’s weird to think we’re leaving soon?” I asked to cut the silence.
“Every day.”
A pain clutched my heart when he said that, and I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. I couldn’t imagine a life or a summer without him.
“Do you think your mom would let you apply out of state?” he asked. “I know you already got into GCU, but maybe?”
I laughed bitterly. “Hell, no. Georgia only. You know that.”
What I didn’t say was that I needed FBI clearance to leave the state. Max had no idea about my life. It was a secret I had kept from him throughout our entire friendship.
“I’d be cool to see you every day.” Max’s voice broke me out of my thoughts.
Something in his voice, soft, almost hesitant, made my chest tighten.
“You got into GCU, too, you know. You could always come.”
“I know,” he said softly. And then, “You know, the guys give me such a hard time at school about you.”
I could almost see him rolling his eyes.
“Why? Because they know I can beat you up?”
“That was one time.”He paused for a beat. “You haven’t seen me in a year. I’ve changed.” He got quieter and said, “I’ve dated a few girls this year. I’m cool now.”
I could hear the laughter under his words, but that news landed like a splinter under my skin. I told myself it was fine. I’ddated too. But hearing him talk about them made something cold and unfamiliar curl inside me.
Max had dark, tangled hair that he wore under an Atlanta Braves baseball cap. The light sprinkling of freckles covered his cheeks and the tip of his nose. His blue eyes were constantly hidden by a bright red sunburn that reddened whenever he smiled or laughed. He was tall now, maybe 6’3”, and his body was lean, like a baseball player.
The girls had been eying him more at camp, but he always ignored them. Too focused on kayaking, hiking, or just being Max. It was always just him and me. Bonnie and Clyde, we always said.
I couldn’t imagine him being any different.
