Give Me a Sign(11)
“Exactly,” Gary says. “Things aren’t that dire yet. The board and I are discussing solutions. One of which is to woo some new donors.”
Isaac waves and asks a question, which Ethan relays to Gary. “So what exactly does this mean for us this summer? Is anything changing right away?”
Gary knows to face Isaac as he responds, and Isaac glances back and forth between him and Ethan’s interpreting. “This year should look similar to last summer. But as you know, we’ve been cutting a lot of the typical activities, such as the occasional off-site trips.”
Around the table, we all solemnly nod in understanding. I guess that means I’m not getting the chance to go horseback riding anytime soon.
Gary tries to lift the mood. “We’ll be raising money so that camp can not only continue to exist but once again thrive!”
He wants to be reassuring, but I’m stuck on “keep things going” and “not only continue,” which suggest things are, in fact, pretty bad.
“I’ll be giving a few tours over the summer to these potential donors, but nothing that should interrupt the usual routine. Oh, we may have a luncheon at some point. But for the most part, you can just pretend they aren’t here.” He nods and checks his clipboard. “Yep, I think we can go ahead and eat dinner.” He looks back up at us. “Any questions?”
Our group is still digesting the news and too hungry to come up with any thoughts.
“Okay, Ethan will pass around your group assignments. Read through the children’s profiles to identify any dietary requirements and other needs. You have my cell, and Ethan’s, and each other’s. I’m used to good old-fashioned walkie-talkies, but for obvious reasons, phones are a better fit here for a variety of accommodated communication. Text or call me with any emergencies. Oh, and you have our lovely nurse’s number as well.”
“Yes. Hello, everyone!” the elderly, bubbly camp nurse says and signs. She’s sitting at the head of the table beside where Gary is standing. “I recognize many smiling faces. I’m excited to get to know you better when we have our first aid and CPR training.”
I’m surprised there’s finally a nurse with a working knowledge of ASL. Honestly, it should be a requirement for the job, but she is the first one as far as I know.
“Let’s eat!” Ethan says and signs. “After dinner, you’re free for the rest of the night.”
Mackenzie throws both hands into the air to start a round of sign language applause. “My, I just love this,” she says, and wiggles her fingers in the air in silent, overly enthusiastic celebration.
Ethan hands me a deck with the profiles of my campers. Since I’m a junior counselor, I’ve been paired with someone over eighteen—and of course, that happens to be the new staff member, Mackenzie . . . Yay, me.
* * *
While we eat dinner, the two counselors sitting beside me introduce themselves as Bobby and Simone respectively.
Bobby is a former camper with low vision. He’s got a splotch of sunscreen near one of his eyebrows. Still, his attempt to coat his pale complexion was unsuccessful. None of us spent that much time outdoors today, but the sunburn on Bobby’s face grows redder by the minute. His cane is folded up in the pouch of his backpack, presumably because he primarily uses it after dark. But from what I’ve already observed at dinner, despite hovering at least a foot taller than Simone, he likes to default to grabbing onto her arm when he needs a guide.
Bobby is the epitome of clashing colors in a purple shirt and orange shorts, but Simone has the athleisure look down, sporting the latest Old Navy line from head to toe. She’s Black and studying to work with blind and low-vision kids. She and Mackenzie are the only two counselors this summer without a hearing or vision loss.
“So I don’t know how I feel about having randoms wandering around camp,” Bobby says, taking a bite of his sandwich and letting most of the lettuce fall out onto his plate.
“Is this something we should tell parents up front?” Simone asks.
“I’m sure Gary’s on top of that. Gotta keep the children safe. What do you think, Lilah? As the resident child here,” Bobby jokes.
“Come on, I’m seventeen.” But I don’t take it too seriously. I’ve been amused by the banter between Simone and Bobby and am glad to be easily roped into the conversation.
“But not eighteen yet, so where’s the lie?” Bobby says. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know . . . I mean, if people want to see what they’d be donating their money to, that should be fine, I guess.” But then I imagine a squad of four old dudes roaming around on a little golf cart like they’re on a paid safari, clicking away to take zoomed-in photos on their phones. “Okay, it has the potential to be weird.”
Simone agrees. “Yeah,” she tells Bobby. “It really depends.”
“Couldn’t there be another way to bring in the money?” I ask. “Online or something? I mean, seeing how out of date the website is, that’d be a technological challenge.”
“Yeah, this place is ——，” Simone says.
“What was that?” I ask.
“This place is getting desperate for money,” she repeats, a bit louder. “Wages could use a lift. I almost had to take a different job this summer.”