But what Mom said was right—Mel’s still alive. She’s been alive all this time, and now she’s back in my life again. My heart feels like bursting at the thought, and my mind is a blur of things I need to catch Mel up on, things she’s missed, thingsI’vemissed.
On Wednesday, the day after I have dinner with her and Luke, and after my talk with Mom, I’m happy to the point of distraction, even as I lead my campers from activity to activity and chat with other leaders and pretend like I’m anywhere in the vicinity of the Winchester Community Center.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Willow remarks, but I sober when we take our kids to the science station before lunch. Luke is as mesmerizing and as in control as he was on his first day, yesterday. He is funny and silly and passionate, and watching him, my heart pounds in my throat. Thankfully, he does not acknowledge me. When he has a question about the field trip next week, he asks Willow and not me.
At lunchtime, though, he shows up in the cafeteria. He’s sitting at the second staff table with Eric, who goes by Ace at camp, and Ruby/Rouge, and a couple other staff members. Unless we’re on lunch duty, leaders can go off-campus for lunch, but it’s such a short break that most of us stay and eat in the cafeteria anyway.
“J.J.—”
A ten-year-old girl with freckles taps me on the back just as I’m unwrapping the sandwich I’ve brought from home.
“What’s up?”
“Can you help me open my container of yogurt?” Casey is one of the sweetest kids in my group, but one of the least independent. She has me and Willow do everything from tie her shoelaces to put her hair up for her. She’d probably have one of us feed her if she could.
“You can’t get it open?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“Show me,” I say. I’m willing to help if she needs it, but I want her to at least attempt it.
She makes a face as she struggles to get the lid off the bottle.
“So close,” I say. “Try again?”
She twists and twists, and the top comes off.
“There you go!” I say enthusiastically.
“Most times I can’t get it open,” she says, trying to justify her coming to me.
“That’s okay. Just have to keep trying,” I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“Thanks, J.J.!” she calls before running back to her table in the middle of the hall.
I turn back, intending to follow the conversation Willow and Brett are having about pores versus follicles, but someone calls my name.
“Hey, J.J.?” I turn, expecting it to be another student, but it’s Eric. Unfortunately, it’s too late to pretend I didn’t hear him.
“What?” I ask.
“What’s the J.J. stand for? Just Jessi? Jessi Junior?” I can tell by the glint in his eyes that he’s gearing up for something good.
I turn back to my food.
“Like, are you second in line to some kind of dynasty or throne? A family business?” he muses. “Can you say what y’all do? Or not in front of the children?”
Someone snickers at his table.
I roll my eyes and go back to eating.
The worst part isn’t that he’s still making these kinds of jokes; it’s that today he’s doing it in Luke’s presence.
“You know, you can tell us. No judgment among friends,” Eric continues.
“Ignore him,” Willow tells me, and I nod.
“Brett’s going to be in my video tonight,” Willow continues, clearly trying to distract me. “We’re doing some grossBoyfriend Versuschallenge, where we have to eat nasty stuff.”
“Ew, what are you eating?” I ask.
