Page 27 of A Little Campfire Blues
“I’d have done the same thing without an extra set of hands,” Mackenzie said.
The look they shared made Roman smile, which made me happy too, but there was one thing that really surprised me.
“You’re gonna fish with me?” I asked, shooting a look over at Axis ‘cause I’d have figured Mackenzie would wanna help him so they could talk about music.
“I sure am, as long as you’re okay with me helping you.”
“I am, I am, I really am,” I said, clapping, squealing, and dancing around so much I dropped my pole.
He picked it up and handed it back to me, then adjusted my cap, which had tumbled forward, making it difficult for me to see when it was crooked and half over my eyes like that.
“Ready to catch another one?” he asked.
“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!”
“Alright,” Mackenzie said, moving around to my side. “Let’s see you cast it wayyyyy out there!”
Giggling, I showed him just how far I could cast, having to tip my head back a little to watch my lime green bobber, which was shaped like a lime too, sail through the air until it finally plopped down with a splash.
“Here, fishy, fishy, fishy,” I encouraged, giggling when he laughed.
“Look, we’ve got a beautiful boulder right here; why don’t we get comfortable and wait for your fish to come?” He suggested, stepping up onto the mostly flat rock and holding a hand out to me.
My shoes slipped a little and lit up a whole lot as he helped me up there beside him, but I was happy to sit ‘cause my feet had started getting sore from standing on the rocky shoreline.
“Ezzy, can I ask you something?” Mackenzie said as soon as I’d stopped squirming around to find the most comfy spot, wishing I’d brought my blankie ‘cause the rock was hard on my tush, which was a little sore from sitting on the log last night.
“Uh-huh.”
“Which pronouns do you prefer?”
Squealing, I wiggled happily. “They—them!”
“Okay, I’m glad I asked; I didn’t want to ass and accidentally hurt your feelings.”
“Ohhhh, thank you. People try to guess all the time. It never hurts my feelings, but it does hurt when someone asks why I don’t just pick one.”
“You have; it’s they-them, the same as she-her or he-him is picking one,” he declared.
I’d never thought about it like that and turned to stare up at him watching me with a kind smile on his face.
“I’m gonna say that the next time someone tells me to pick.”
“Good for you. Always stand up for yourself. Never let anyone dull your sparkle.”
“Do you like sparkles?” I blurted.
“I do; I like them a lot,” he said, leaning close. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yay, secret, secret.”
“I don’t just like looking at sparkles; I like wearing them too,” he whispered. “I love a bit of bling on the pockets of my jeans, belt buckle, and hatbands too.”
“I love shiny, pretty things. Wearing dark colors makes me feel sad, like it’s raining on my head, like Eeyore.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want you to feel like that, especially not here at camp where you get to have fun, make messes, and do all the giggle dances you want to. In fact, I think a fishy is just about ready to give you another reason to get your squiggles in,” Mackenzie said before pressing a finger to his lips, then pointing out where my lime bobber was bobbing, bobbing, each time going under a little more.
It was hard, hard, hard to sit still, hold on, and wait for the fishy to yank it under and start running away with it, but with Mackenzie beside me, I managed, despite how many times my fingers flexed on the pole as I got impatient.
