“Leo Lovejoy,” I proclaimed with as little fanfare as possible.
Hazel whistled, and she seemed to be the only one who was excited for him to win. The rest of us were poor losers.
Leo tried to nonchalantly hand me the busted-up kid’s soccer trophy we’d bedazzled a few years ago. The head was superglued on after we’d found it barely hanging on, the nameplate reading “Kevin Blevins.” We thought it was hilarious. Poor kid.
I took it from his hand and gave it right back to him, leaving my place to go back to my seat.
He lifted it high into the air. “Who wants to kiss it for good luck? There’s always next year,” he gloated—a true asshole. Then he gently petted the top and spoke into its plastic ear. “You’re going right back where you belong.” He kissed the statue before cradling it in his arms.
Hazel looked appalled. “You know we got it at the Treasure Trove, right? I can only guess how many grubby hands have been on that thing.”
Leo shrugged it off. “Yeah, but glitter negates bacteria.”
Nat’s arms crossed her chest and she spoke under her breath. “Maybe he’ll contract some disease and then someone else will have a chance at winning next year.” She’d come in second place, and wasn’t taking it well.
I let out a watery chuckle.
Before long, Lola and Luis were back at it again, making drinks even in their off time, like they truly loved to do. It was on nights like these that their playing off each other’s unique tastes led to incredibly random drinks Frankensteined together to eventually become the new camp sensation. That was how our PB&J cocktail came to be and the reason our secret menuincluded Paradise Mountain: a mixture of Mountain Dew and Malibu rum, which was surprisingly good.
Leo tuned his guitar while Hazel and Nat laughed at Lamar, who’d been sprayed with whipped cream by Sawyer. Felicia and Bobby were by the fire, roasting marshmallows. And Jack? Well, I couldn’t find him among the smiling faces.
“Hey there, stranger.” My best friend placed his hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face him.
“Hey.” Not sounding like myself, I cleared my throat.
“So he’s gone for good, huh?” Jack seemed surprised.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” I sounded despondent, but like I said, I was fine. “He doesn’t even live here.”
It didn’t make sense for him to live here, after all. He didn’t have a reason beyond being with me, and that wasn’t sustainable. Relationships didn’t last when lawyers left new opportunities to stay with their ex-girlfriends after a week of bliss.
That was just a general circumstance. Nothing specific about that at all.
“You know what I mean.” Apparently, he didn’t come here to play.
I said nothing. I didn’t have an answer for him.
He sat next to me and put his hand on mine on the bench. Leo started to play background music on his guitar while everyone continued talking. It smelled like smoke and the wilderness. It sounded like happiness. It felt like pain.
I stared at the fire like you weren’t supposed to, seeing little stars as my eyes protested. I turned to Jack again, only to find him with cheeks stuffed, holding out a marshmallow bag. “No,” I tried.
He reached in and grabbed me a marshmallow. Then a handful. It was incredibly unsanitary. I took them anyway.
The music stopped for a moment, and then Hazel’s striking voice started singing our goodbye song—“Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. A wave of pain washed over me. Goodbye.
Jack handed me another marshmallow, and I took it as a tear ran down the front of my stuffed cheek. The music filled my ears as everyone else sang. This campfire was the hardest one because it was the last, a culmination of everything from the entire summer. After this, some things would be in the air. We didn’t know what counselors would come back. Sawyer could be gone next year. Or Nat or even Jack if he found someone else. But I’d still be here. It was where I was meant to be.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to cry about it.
Jack shoved another marshmallow in his mouth. “Four.”
“That isn’t going to work on me right now. Can’t you see I’m wallowing?”
“You can marsh-wallow,” he literally spat out, elbowing me as if he was proud of himself, and I couldn’t help but smile. He had me. I took four marshmallows and stuffed my face.
I wondered how many marshmallows Jamie could fit in his mouth.
When I was emotional, the tears always flowed over the dumbest shit. I wiped them away, but they were too quick to keep up with. Jack narrowed his eyes. He looked like a sad chipmunk. He handed me two more marshmallows, and I shoved them in my mouth, turning back to the fire. And maybe the sugar rush gave me the clarity I needed.
