“Well, it’s a classic for a reason, isn’t it?”
“And hereI’dhave thoughtyou’dhave thought you were above Louisa May Alcott.”
“What?” What were we even talking about?
“Your self-esteem is very… robust,” she said. “You also don’t seem like the kind of person who’s into books about, like, sisterly bonds.”
“I have a sister. We have a bond.” A bond forged in the fire of parental neglect, not the unconditional love of a wise and loving mother à laLittle Women, but whatever.
“Hang on, it’s going to take me a sec to process the idea of you as a sibling. As a child. As having a past that didn’t involve being birthed into the world as an adult man with a scowl and calloused guitar hands.” I looked down at my hands. I hadn’t thought my calluses were that noticeable. “Nope,” she went on. “That is not computing; I’m getting an error page. I’ll have to work on that later. In the meantime, I haveLittle Women, but I have nine girls and no boys. And I’m actually talking to Jack here.” She swiveled to face him.
Of course she’d been talking to Jack. She wanted help with a writing problem. Why had I thoughtIwas “just the gentleman”she wanted to see? I stood, which caused her to swing her attention back to me questioningly.
“Why don’t you sit?” I asked.
“That’s OK. I’m not going to stay long.” She turned back to Jack. “I want everyone to have roughly the same amount of stage time. So do I make more little women? Or do I rethink completely?”
“I think if you’re redoingLittle Womento make it a musical, you can do whatever else you want to it,” Jack said. Again, he was being kind of a dick, but in a way that was hard to put my finger on.
“I never said musical,” Gretchen said. “Although…” Her eyes narrowed and she swung back to face me. I was still standing, not having sat back down after she rebuffed my offer of a chair.
“Why do you want everyone to have the same amount of stage time?” I asked, though I had no idea why I cared. As was well established, she wasn’t here for me.
“Whywouldn’tI want everyone to have the same amount of stage time?”
“Because some of the kids are more talented dancers than others?” I posited. “Or smarter? Or just generally better? Because the world is, or should be, a meritocracy?”
She blinked. Yeah, that had been an odd thing to say. But I couldn’t square Gretchen’s plan with reality. Though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to. I sat down.
“Sure,” she said. “But this isn’t the world. This is summer camp for teenagers. There’s plenty of time for meritocracy when they grow up. The world can crush their dreams later.”
“I thought you said to treat them like adults.”
She looked momentarily confused. But shehadsaid that, that first day when she was talking about how to deal withteenagers, and it had been good advice. It had gotten me through the week.
She shrugged. “I guess I contain multitudes.” She turned to Jack, either not getting or not caring that he wasn’t interested in her show. “Also, what do I do about Laurie?” She paused. “Laurie is a boy character inLittle Women.”
“I am aware,” Jack said, and there was nothing subtle about the snobbery in his tone that time.
“OK, sheesh.”
“Maybe you should talk to Caleb,” Jack said. He was dismissing her.
“I will find you a Laurie,” I said suddenly, because apparently I’d taken leave of my senses.
“You will?”
“Yep.” I had the perfect kid for the job. A self-impressed little shit who fancied himself a guitar god. He was the kid version of the accountant I’d imagined going to adult band camp. “He’s a music kid, but I don’t see why he can’t do double duty in the dance show.”
She eyed me skeptically, as if waiting for there to be a catch. I stared back until she shrugged and said, “OK, thanks.”
I waited for her to ask if we wanted to go swimming. A Friday-night swim was sounding good. But she took her leave and disappeared into her cabin. When she came out a few minutes later wearing the ruffled monstrosity, I thought surely she would invite us. She had every other day this week.
But she didn’t. She just waved and disappeared down the path.
5
RESET
