“It’s easy when you don’t have a permanent address. Less stuff to hold on to.” Did that sound depressing? Hopefully not.
“I wish I could live the way you do. You should see my place. It’s inundated with the randomest shit. Childhood craft projects, photos. Probably every paper airplane Leo has ever made for me. Lots of tangible memories. In fact, I bet I still have the paper fortune-teller games we made from that night we got drunk on White Claws and ate nachos until we threw up.”
“I’m surprised they survived that horrendous night.”
I may not have carried everything with me, but I wondered if my mom and stepfather had any sort of class photos or projects I’d worked hard on from my past. But I shrugged it off, knowing the truth. They’d probably thrown those things away the second they came across them. That sort of thing didn’t fit their aesthetic, curated to an inch of its life. They definitely didn’t have some box in the attic with my name on it.
But I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“I didn’t get to talk to him yet, but how’s Leo?”
“Leo is… Leo.” The smile that took over her face had me wishing I’d had my own… whatever Leo was to Hazel.
I’d known her since our freshman year of college, where she’d talked about him constantly. They’d been friends since their own days at camp as adolescents, and they’d been practically inseparable, even when hundreds of miles away from each other. I always wondered if there was more to their relationship than they let on. Any observer would havequestions. She never outwardly claimed to have feelings for him, but she was also excellent at deflecting whenever the topic was brought up.
“He’s currently trying to bribe a deer to leave the garden with a basket of apples attached to a fishing rod,” she said, beaming. “He’s so funny.”
I turned my back so she didn’t see my knowing smile. “And the second camp?”
Hazel let out a deep sigh, one tinged with exhaustion. “It’s going good. Leo and I just got back in time for campers to arrive here, but we’ll go back down next week to help them launch. For some reason, I think I’m more nervous than the first time we opened this camp. I can’t wait for things to be up and running so we can take a second to just… breathe.”
In the short time since I arrived, I’d noticed my friend carried herself differently. Her shoulders were slumped as though she’d forgotten what posture was, her face carrying dark circles underneath her eyes. But she still looked happy. Running was what she was used to.
Last year, a backer had approached Hazel and her counterpart about opening a second Camp Starlight, now called Camp Sunlight, and they’d been working tirelessly at the former kids’ summer camp to get things up and running. I hadn’t been sure they’d be able to do it in the nine months they’d had, but they’d pulled out a miracle. It helped that the bones were there, and this place was like a well-oiled machine, so they knew what they were doing after six years. I couldn’t wait to go to Northern California to see it.
I closed my dresser and found Hazel biting her lip as she scrolled on her phone.
“Oof, looks like Poppy liked your latest post.” Her eyebrows jumped to her hairline as if she didn’t mean to say the words, butthere they were, hanging between us like a breath on a cold fall night.
“She can like all she likes.” I tried not to sound bitter as I fought the urge to pull out my phone. Pulling up the post would lead to checking out her profile, which would lead to remembering that I was less bitter and more sad than anything. Her account hadn’t seen the growth she’d expected it to have after dating me for six months, which meant her plan to date me for likes had blown up in her face. It had been two months since we’d broken up, which made this the second time I’d come to camp on the heels of a breakup. This was officially a pattern. Great.
I fell back onto the bed, causing Hazel to bounce slightly. She let out a small giggle, a sound she didn’t normally make outside of being drunk.
“Is everything going well here?”
“Well, we’ve been very focused on our other project, so Autumn has been picking up the slack and kicking ass as assistant director. She’s not acting as a camp counselor this year, so she has more time. I think we can look forward to a chaos-free year.” She knocked on my oak bed frame. “With the exception of these camp games. They’re already turning into something.” Hazel’s eyebrows went up as I grinned maniacally. “You’re going to be good, right? We both know how competitive you can get.”
I rolled my eyes dramatically enough to hurt. “Hey, that resident advisor was able to walk straight a couple of weeks after our spring softball tournament. You and I both agreed that had he tied his shoes properly, he wouldn’t have face-planted when I tagged him out at third base.”
“And the black eye did go away, so no harm done.”
“Exactly.” I rolled to the side, and my keys fell out onto the ground. I got out of bed and picked them up, dangling them from my fingers.
“You don’t still have that frog keychain. Why don’t you just buy a new one?”
“You obviously can’t buy luck, Hazel. This thing has gotten me through a lot of major events and milestones.”
“The first car you bought yourself.”
I raised a finger. “Every one of my finals in college.”
“That time we got free tickets to that metal show senior year.”
I nodded. “That was pretty sick. Even after they showed up two hours late and the kegs ran out. Now, if only it could help me find a person who isn’t dating me for all the wrong reasons. What am I saying? Don’t feel bad, Bernice.” I squeezed my keychain. “No one said you have to be perfect.” I placed my keys carefully on top of my dresser, instantly realizing that I’d made a mistake. I turned to Hazel, who stared at me gleefully. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I know someone who would be perfect for you?—”
“Hazel. You’re not good at this. You’re not Leo.”
