Say a Little Prayer(16)

“Wait.” Greer sits up. “You do this every year? After lights-out?”

Delaney’s eyes narrow. “Yeah.”

“How come no one ever talks about it?”

“Because it’s a secret, Greer. What happens after lights-out stays in the cabin. If you have a problem with that, you’re more than welcome to sleep in the woods.”

“Oh my god, chill.” Greer’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “I was just asking.”

She settles back against her pillow, arms still crossed in silent protest, but I can see her watching the screen from across the room. I half expect Amanda to chime in, to point out all the different ways this is against the rules, but she doesn’t move either. Instead, she remains facing the opposite wall, so I can’t quite tell if she’s awake. I flip onto my side right as Julia’s mattress creaks overhead.

“Hey,” she whispers, leaning down to peer at me through the dark. Her hair tumbles around her face, still frizzy from today’s humidity. I bite back a grin.

“Hey.”

“I’m really glad you’re here. Have I told you that?”

“Yes, many times.”

“Shh!”

Delaney tosses a pillow in our direction. Her aim is terrible; it falls harmlessly to the floor, but our bedframe still shudders as Julia topples back into bed. I let out a muffled snort, immediately smothering it with a hand when Delaney rounds on me with a fresh pillow held aloft.

Music swells faintly from the TV. As the first lines of dialogue work their way through the speakers, Julia’s hand drops back over the side of the bunk. “Goodnight,” she whispers.

I reach up without thinking, weaving my fingers through hers. “Goodnight.”

And when she squeezes my hand, purposeful and quick, I don’t want to let go.





V


    God Gives His Toughest Battles (Surviving Church Camp) to His Gayest Soldiers (Me)


I wake to the piercing wail of police sirens rattling the springs of my mattress.

My heart slams against my rib cage as I scramble up in bed, feet tangled in the sheets, and for a terrifying second, I can’t remember where I am or what I’m doing here. I almost think the sirens are real, that someone knows I’ve just been wrenched from a very vivid dream about running Pastor Young over with the camp bus and they’re coming to take me away.

“Not again!”

Torres’s bunk creaks as she rolls over, one arm flung across her face. Below her, Delaney groans and buries her head under her pillow. “Turn it off!” she snaps. “Julia, I’m going to kill your brother.”

Only then do I realize the sound is coming from the alarm clock in the corner, a shrill crescendo of the worst club music I’ve ever heard. I’m about to launch myself out of bed and throw the entire thing against the wall when the ladder at the foot of my bunk creaks. Julia crosses the room in two quick strides and slams her fist against the top of the alarm. The song cuts off mid-chorus, sweet, blessed silence falling across the cabin at last, and she exhales a low sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, Delaney. I’m going to kill him, too.”

I shake my head, still trying to clear the echo of phantom sirens. “What the hell was that?”

“That’s Ben.” Julia drags a hand down her face. “He got this random CD stuck in our alarm a few years ago, and now it won’t come out. We’ve woken up to”—she picks up the abandoned CD case and reads from the back—“?‘Flexin’ on That Gram’ by YouTube sensation Mike Fratt for the last two years and will, apparently, continue to wake up to it every day for the rest of our natural lives.”

“Oh my god.” I yank my comforter over my face, blocking out the sun spilling cheerily across the cabin. “Does that man not terrorize the internet enough?”

Even within my cocoon of blankets, I can hear birds chirping outside our open windows and the occasional slam of screen doors as the other cabins start to come alive. Everyone is stirring, climbing out of bed, and getting ready for our first real day of camp. I should be joining them, but something about being yanked from sleep by a poorly made SoundCloud party remix is really making me contemplate my life choices.

“Come on, Riley.” Julia’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You’ll miss breakfast.”

The lines of her pillow are still imprinted across her cheek, but her eyes are bright despite our abrupt awakening. I scowl and bury myself deeper into the mattress. “It’s too early.”

“It’s seven thirty.”

“Exactly.”

Amusement flickers across Julia’s face. “Suit yourself. But if you want a shower before breakfast, I’d go now. The hot water only lasts, like, two seconds.”

As if on cue, Torres snatches her shower caddy from the floor and dashes onto the porch with Delaney and Greer in close pursuit.

“You should go,” I say, waving Julia toward the door. “I’ll meet you at breakfast.”

“Promise?”

I slip my pinkie out from under the blanket. “Promise.”

Julia’s finger is cool around mine, steady and reassuring as always. She gives it one firm shake before dropping my hand and following the others. I watch her go, ignoring the way her absence makes my chest ache. I’ve learned to adapt this year without her constantly at my side, and now that I have her back, I don’t want to let go. It’s like that time in eighth grade when I knocked out my front tooth over Thanksgiving break. It took two days to get into an emergency dentist, and I’d spent the entire wait prodding at the empty space with my tongue, still expecting to find a tooth. It was like my brain couldn’t process the loss, and that’s how I feel about Julia now. Like she’s a part of me. Like no matter what happens between us, there’s not a world where I can conceivably comprehend her absence.