“Unless it brings back bad memories,” Maiv said.
“No,” I said, though it was a lie. These songs did bring back bad memories, some more than others.Onemore than others. “They’re great songs. Perfect for singing around a campfire.” I was still amazed that they’d let me into their conclave with such ease. I wasn’t used to ease.
We ran through a bunch of them. I’d start a song, and they’d pick it up. Many of these songs had simple verses that swapped in one thing for another—the hammer in “If I Had a Hammer” became a bell in the second verse—so they were easy to get the hang of. Then Maiv asked if I knew any Beatles. Soon I was taking requests from everyone. Maiv was a Beatlemaniac, Danny was into Pearl Jam, and Caleb favored show tunes.
“Is there anything youdon’tknow?” Gretchen laughingly asked after I’d played the Go-Go’s “Vacation” at her request, except I’d slowed it way down and made it into a ballad.
“I’m embarrassingly ignorant about country and bluegrass. I know some of the classics, but nothing new.” Though Anna had turned me on to a couple artists I planned to learn more about.
“I was kidding, but I love how you answered that earnestly,” Gretchen said.
Before I knew it, the fire was down to embers and it was almost midnight. “That was awesome, thanks, Teddy,” Maiv said as she stood and fished her flashlight out of her pocket. Everyone concurred, and I had to agree. I felt recharged. I’d come to the fire thinking I needed todischarge all my jumpy energy, but instead it felt like I’d redirected it. Amazing that sitting around aimlessly singing could do that.
But that was the power of music, wasn’t it? That was what I loved about it. That was probably what my mother had loved about it, too. Music could change you.
When was the last time I’d sat around singing for no reason? I used to love writing with Scott, but those sessions had always been about creating something new. Making something out of nothing. Tonight reminded me of all the singing with my family when I was a kid. There had been, back in that dark apartment, a kind of purity to sitting together and singing for the joy of it. I’d forgotten about that, that there had been some good in and among all the shit.
“You coming on the big hike tomorrow?” Caleb asked as he smothered the embers with sand. “If you are, you should bring your guitar.”
I was about to askWhat big hike?when Maiv said, “It’s only a day trip, though, so when would we sing? We’re not going to be building a fire. It’s just in and out.”
The fact that I had no idea what they were talking about probably didn’t reflect well on me. I was embarrassed when Gretchen, who clearly realized I was confused, had to say, “Day trip to a nearby state park tomorrow. Hiking in to a waterfall,lunch, swimming—there’s apparently a pristine swimming hole there—hiking back out. Optional for the kids, but a lot of them are going. And obviously optional for us, too.”
As we ambled back to our cabins, I heard myself say, “A waterfall might be fun.” When I could feel Gretchen raising a skeptical eyebrow—it was too dark to actually see it, but somehow I knew it was there—I said, “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought it.”
“You, Teddy Knight, have no idea what I think.”
8
FOREST FRUIT ROLL-UPS
Gretchen
“This is all your fault.”
I didn’t know exactly how, but the fact that we were lost in the freaking North Woods was Teddy’s fault. It had something to do with whatever had come over him this past week. His personality transplant. He was so easy to talk to now. He was sodistracting.
“My fault!” he protested. “You’re the one with the compass.”
“Yes!” I doubled down. “Your fault!”
After surprising me by showing up at the bus that morning, Teddy had continued delivering shocks: Posing for pictures by the waterfall when asked. Swimming with good cheer—even going so far as to join some kids in a competition to see who could make the biggest splash cannonballing into the swimming hole.
And the last one, which I’d felt as aliteralshock, a visceral, galvanizing bee sting: falling into step with me on the return trip and asking, earnestly and with seemingly genuine interest, about the conversation he’d walked in on last night—about my burgeoning choreographic ambitions. Which, in the lightof day, with Teddy freaking Knight and his split personality, I was more than a little sheepish about.
“You’re the one who kept asking questions!” I added. “You’re the reason we fell behind!” I shook my useless compass at the sky. Sure, I had a compass, but since I didn’t know which way was “out,” it wasn’t any use. “Definitely your fault!”
“That… might be true.”
See? Case in point about howweirdhe was being. All agreeable and interested in other people and just generally… decent. It was disarming. I didn’t know what to do with this new Teddy. At the best of times, but this was not the best of times. This was lost in the God damn woods times.
We’d tried shouting. We’d tried retracing our steps to see if we’d missed an obvious turnoff.
“Oh wait!” Teddy said. “Duh! We can call someone. I don’t have my phone—get out yours.”
