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Everyone else gets bored after a few social media photos in front of the waterfall and goes back to their chairs to chat or nap or study. Jonah never stops. Every time I look up he has vanished and reappeared somewhere else. He wades across the river and explores the far side, then finds a way behind the falls, which I’m sure isn’t safe at all.
There’s something remarkable about his strong, quiet body in the dappled sun through the trees as he sits on the edge of the water all by himself and washes dirt off his legs. I should stop staring before Avery notices, but I can’t. Evolution has conditioned the human body to fixate on its greatest threat or its greatest chance of survival. I don’t know which he’s supposed to be.
When I try to focus on the interview questions Avery has shoved in my lap, a hand brushes my shoulder. Jonah’s standing very close, bouncing energetically on his toes even though he’s done the equivalent of three hikes by now. “I bet you have a nice phone. Can you take a picture of Elliott and Sophie and me in front of the waterfall? Mine’s dead.” Of course he doesn’t charge his phone; he’s too busy sleeping on shed roofs and playing with animals like some kind of insufferable Disney heroine.
Taking my phone, he struggles to type one-handed on the enormous screen as he sends himself a text from my number. “There. Message it to me later.” He flashes me a quick smile. “Thanks, Mr. Freeman.”
The girl he’s been with all weekend, Sophie, laces her fingers in his as he helps her over the slick rocks, laughing at something she said. The three of them line up in front of the falls and I snap a few amateurish shots before turning the lens on Avery, who has grabbed a bundle of wood and started haphazardly stacking it in the fire pit. “Narrate your nature survival show, Avery. How does one start a fire?”
He brandishes a cardboard box. “With the esoteric and arcane use of—” he checks the front “—Qwik Start Flame Cubes.”
I sit back, watching in growing satisfaction as he and his students light matches and fire starters and chuck them into the logs with absolutely no success. My friend gives me a look, and I just shrug. “Tell me, how much of their grade is this fire worth?”
“God, guys, come on.” Jonah pushes his way through the group and drops on his knees next to the fire pit. He must have fallen headfirst into the water, because he has stripped off his soaked t-shirt and hung it around his neck like he’s on the beach episode of some thirst trap TV show. His musculature leans much bulkier than mine, dense and sculpted on his short frame, rolling beneath his wet, tan skin every time he moves.
“You can’t just…” He peers down into the teetering tower of logs, the pile of uncaught fire starters, and begins laughing. “Sophie.” He touches her leg gently. “You and the others should start prepping the eggs. I’ll have this ready in five minutes.”
He fishes logs out one at a time, standing on one so he can strip off bits of kindling to pile in the center. Once he has rearranged the wood, he traps the matchbox against his knee with his stump and strikes a match. Unconcerned about burning himself, he tosses a couple of fire starters into the pit with his foot, then reaches in and lights them.
While he babies the fire into tall, healthy flames and folds over the iron fire pit grating, Sophie breaks eggs into foil packets with ham, cheese, and chives, then folds them carefully. It seems like an obscene amount of fuss for what amounts to a poorly cooked omelet.
“Everyone makes their own,” Sophie announces, handing one to me. From what I’ve seen, she has the poise and intelligence of the best lawyers I’ve ever met. I don’t entirely understand how Jonah fits into the same picture as her, but it’s none of my business.
“Thank you.” Imitating the others, I put my packet on the corner of the hot grate. This is the kind of thing Colson loved. I might have liked it too, if he hadn’t refused to show me how to do anything properly and then asked why I wasn’t enjoying myself. He thought he could cure me of my need for control by taking it away from me.
There aren’t enough camp chairs, so Jonah gives Sophie his and sits on the ground between her knees, eyes half closed as she rubs his shoulders and pets his hair.
Avery proposes singing songs while we wait, and to my relief everyone boos. “Have it your way,” he gripes. The man’s goofy as hell, but he’s also brilliant. He takes every batch of nervous new students and helps them find their confidence, forming them into a family that can carry them through the rest of law school.
Jonah’s eyes drift open, catching on mine through the ripple of hot air from the fire. He blinks slowly at me, sleepy from running free all morning, and slides his arm up to squeeze Sophie’s hand on his shoulder.
“Your lunch is ready,” he says, eyes still on me. He picks up a stick and pushes my packet toward me. “Be careful.”
Holding the foil with a handful of napkins, I take a plastic fork and poke at the repulsive-looking mush inside. It’s nothing special, too much salt and rubbery strings of melted cheese, but with the roar of the falls in the background, the air so crisp you could take a bite out of it, I eat the entire thing before I know what I’m doing.
Nursing a burned tongue, I go back to developing interview questions with Avery. A loud yelp of laughter has me glancing over my shoulder. Of course it’s Jonah, sitting with his study group. I’ve never seen someone laugh with their whole body before.
“You don’t want him.”
I turn sharply to Avery, my stomach twisting even though I haven’t done anything wrong. “What?”
“Everyone notices him first. How can you not? But you’d hate him as your intern.”
“Why?”
He rubs his chin. “Frankly, I don’t know how he finished his undergrad, let alone passed the LSAT. His academic performance is one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”
A strange disappointment stirs in my gut. “He doesn’t try?”
“I can’t figure him out. I think he does try, maybe harder than anyone. He just can’t do anything right, like he’s on a different wavelength from the rest of the world. With all that passion inside him I think he’d be unstoppable if someone could set him on the right path, but at this point I’m just trying to get him through in one piece.”
We both look over at him, but he’s too engrossed to notice. I know far too much about him and at the same time nothing at all.
“You should take Sophie,” Avery comments. “She’d have you working for her by the end of the summer.”
“No interns.”
