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“You probably haven’t heard of it,” I mumbled down at the path. “It’s a small town in Indiana about an hour from here.”
“What’s it called?”
“Coyote Creek.”
“Sounds cool. I sometimes wish I lived in a small town,” she mused with a twinkle in her eye.
“So where are you from?” I asked, happy to turn the focus back to her.
“Detroit,” she sighed, and I found myself feeling a little bummed that we didn’t live closer. The camp was in Ohio, close to the Indiana border, and I’d heard of some other kids that came from farther away than Luna. It was pretty well-known in the region.
“Alright, campers! To your cabins! Be ready for the lake in fifteen minutes!” Zach, the senior counselor that was in charge of the boys cabin I was in, shouted.
“You heard him, girls!” Hollered the bubbly blonde counselor from Luna’s cabin as she clapped her hands.
All the other campers started scampering around us, pushing and shoving gleefully to their respective cabins while Luna turned to me, a shy smile on her face as she looked up the full inch and a half I was taller than her. “See you at the lake?” She asked, a hopefulness to her tone that about knocked me over.
“Yeah,” I nodded, catching myself when I thought I maybe looked too eager. I wasn’t sure how to react to someone excited to spend more time with me.
“Great! I’m going to go get ready!” Luna announced, flashing me that sweet smile before skipping off in the direction of her cabin, brown ponytail bouncing against her back.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was already smitten.
Two girls, whose names aren’t worth remembering, gave matching dirty sneers to Luna as they walked past where she and I sat on the dock, dangling our legs in the water after equally clobbering each other racing laps. We seemed to be equally matched in swimming, which Luna said made her feel a little better about being a scaredy cat on the ropes course with me. Her words, not mine.
“What’s their problem?” I muttered, looking from their retreating forms back to Luna.
She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sitting with you,” she responded absently, and started drawing hearts on her knee with her finger, likely trying to distract herself from her discomfort.
“That’s nothing new,” I grumbled, before taking a bite of my apple.
“What do you mean?” She looked up from her knee, a confused expression marring her forehead.
Rather than go into how people didn’t like to associate with me, I did what I had taught myself best: shoveing it down in my inner basement and pretending it wasn’t real. “Never mind.,” I shook my head, trying to give off the best don’t care vibe I could. “They’re not anybody,” I shrug off.
“I’m used to it anyway,” she sighed, shaking her head but not meeting my eyes. “Most girls don’t like me.”
That got my attention, and I looked up in astonishment while I chewed thoughtfully. “How come?” I finally asked after swallowing.
“I don’t know,” she clasped her hands together between her knees, her voice rising just a little in frustration. “I play basketball, but other than that, I always thought I was just like them,” she confided. “Do you play any sports?” She rolled her shoulders like she was trying to shake off the subject.
I shook my head, looking out at the lake that rippled a pretty orange from the afternoon sun. “We could never really afford it,” I explained, but before she could even have a chance to feel bad for me, I added, “they never really interested me, anyway. I prefer just running and climbing and stuff.”
“The next Ninja Warrior?” she asked, smiling with interest and beaming even more when she sees me light up.
“I love that show,” I professed, grinning. “I watch it with my Pops some nights when it’s on.”
“Is that your dad or your grandpa?” She asked, looking innocently curious.
I was quiet a moment before finally looking away and answering. “Grampa.”
“Oh, do you live with him?” She leaned forward, seeming genuinely interested, and not like she wanted to give me hell for basically being an orphan who lived with my grouchy grandfather who struggled to make ends meet working on Harleys.
“Yeah,” I answered, turning my apple over in my hands a few times before taking another bite.
“That’s so neat,” she said wistfully. “I never really had grandparents that I saw a lot until last year. My dad’s parents moved over here from Seattle, and I really like them. Especially Granna.”
While listening to her, the part I found myself zeroing in on most was how she beamed when she said the word dad, something I would never do in my life.
