“It’s pathetic, I know,” he tells me, pulling back. “I’m sixteen years old. Hell, I’ll be seventeen in September. And I damn near have a panic attack at the thought of strolling a beach. That’s crazy, right? I know it’s crazy. I’ve been to enough therapists to know that I’m letting fear and trauma control me. Like, there’s no—”
I cup his face. “Caleb, it’s ok to feel the way you do. That’s a normal reaction. I mean—”
But before I can finish my sentence, he’s shaking his head. “It’s not though. Not according to every psychiatrist and psychologist I’ve talked to. And I’ve talked to a lot of them. My mom had me in therapy before I started preschool. It’s normal to be cautious of the water, even wary, especially after what happened to me and my dad. But here’s the thing: I was too young to remember it, you know. So, how can I be scared of it? Besides, like all the doctors have said, my reaction to water is disproportionate to the threat it presents. And I’m pretty sure that’s a direct quote.”
“What? I’m not doctor, but that seems harsh.”
“But there’s truth to it. I need to think with logic, not fear. But somehow the fear always wins.”
I want to tell him he’s stronger than his fear. I want to walk the beach with him and let him squeeze the shit out of my hand. I want so much with Caleb Whitman. But there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of twenty tween-aged girls ready to craft.
“You ready for this?” I ask.
“To craft? I was born ready.”
* * *
Whit
Craft cabin is in total chaos. And it’s all my fault.
I thought I was helping, but it turns out I just made a bigger mess. I guess when you have twenty little girls under the age of ten, and a limited amount of craft supplies, it’s not a good idea to open the supply closet door and let them loose.
Oops.
In my defense, Lucy went to get the rope that Kennedie was supposed to bring. And I was helpless in the face of a bunch of bored 3rd graders.
"Caleb! What on earth is happening?” Lucy’s screech halts all the motion in the room. It’s like these girls know she’s one of their own and they heed her cry.
Within minutes, all the girls are divided into groups and working at stations calmly and happily. I’m sweeping up the debris of the mess I made while Lucy’s bustling around the room checking on everyone. As expected, they’re all following her directions.
It’s like she’s a damn sorceress or some shit.
My cabin is never this quiet. And the only way I can get them to chill even a little is to let them wrestle until they wear each other out.
This morning is proof that I suck at my job as a camp counselor. And also as a boyfriend. Well, ok, we’re not technically dating. But whatever we’re doing? I’m the asshole. And I owe Lucy an apology.
The morning passes in a blur. Once the first group is gone, two more follow. Lucy barely pays me any attention, and I can’t say I blame her. We get a fifteen-minute reprieve halfway through the morning and I think I’ll have my shot at apologizing, but Lucy waves off my attempt at talking.
“I can’t take a break, Caleb. I have to place an order to replace all the supplies that the girls of Daisy and Sunflower cabins ransacked this morning.”
I nod and make a run to the snack shack. Yeah, it’s right by the water, but it’s decently far inland, and besides, it’s the only place at camp to get a chocolate peanut butter milkshake. I’m sure there’s a chart somewhere that equates one’s level of fuckery to the appropriate level of groveling and gift-giving. But I’m winging this one, and I feel like Lucy’s favorite treat is a decent bet.
I make it back to craft cabin with about two minutes to spare before our final group arrives.
“Here,” I say, thrusting the milkshake at her with absolutely no game. “It’s your favorite,” I add, as though she needs to be reminded of what she likes to drink.
“Thanks,” she says, smiling for the first time in three hours. “You didn’t need to—”
“No, I did. I’m sorry. Seriously. You told me to get them all seated and to have them make their own nametags. You were gone for, like, four minutes, and all hell broke loose.”
“That’s a pretty accurate description. How did it get so out of control?”
I scratch my head. “Um…that’s all on me. I just started thinking that markers and labels were kind of boring, you know? So, I asked if we should take a look and see what else we could use. And…yeah. It took less than three minutes to destroy this place.”
“Kids are pretty fast. Look, let’s just get through this last group, ok?”
“Ok, absolutely. But will you let me make it up to you?”
