“How do you know all this?” I ask. “You couldn’t have overheard anything, because they mostly sign.”
“A little birdie told me.”
Simone rolls her eyes. “It’s Ethan. He always blurts things out loud during intense ASL conversations.”
“Plus, Natasha was only a junior counselor last summer, and Jaden was already eighteen and a senior counselor,” Bobby continues. “So that might be a thing, but who cares? Break the rules.”
“The rules?” I ask. It didn’t dawn on me that there’d be any, like, no dating between junior and senior staff. I am still technically stuck in that in-between area. Always caught in the middle. Or is it that going out is discouraged in general while we’re working here? There’s no way they can possibly uphold that.
“Sorry, Lilah. That also means you can’t date me, either,” Bobby says.
“Shh,” I say. “That’s not—”
Simone narrates her reaction this time for Bobby’s sake. “I’m rolling my eyes. Just so you’re not missing out on my reaction here.”
“There can’t be a rule against dating,” I say. “ ’Cause, like, you two are . . .”
The silence could be cut with a knife. Both are suddenly very interested in their dinners.
“Oh?” I scramble to rectify this.
“We were last summer,” Simone answers. “But I wasn’t sure if I’d be back.”
“So not this summer?” I ask.
“That remains to be seen,” Bobby says.
There’s clearly history here that I’m not aware of, so I better extract myself from this conversation quickly. Luckily, Simone beats me to it and changes the topic.
“Let’s not talk about us.” She leans in closer and lowers her voice. I’m glad she keeps her mouth visible, rather than leaning into my ear. “This conversation is clearly about Isaac.”
“Shh,” I say again, flustered. “Is it that obvious?”
“Why did it take you so long to get to the trampoline last night?” Bobby asks, dragging his words out slowly. “You were the last ones.”
“Careful, Bobby, she’s practically melting into her chair.” Simone takes a drink of water. I do the same, hoping measured sips will slow the blood flow to my cheeks. “There does reach a point in the summer where people like to pair off.”
“My money’s on you two,” Bobby says, slapping the table for good measure, drawing several eyes toward us.
“Once again, I’m begging you to stop,” I say, now that others, namely Isaac, are watching us curiously.
“Hey, I just wanna talk about love,” Bobby says, but fortunately he doesn’t add anything else incriminating, until he says, “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.”
“Okay, now you’re really getting ahead of yourself,” I say.
“When counselors hook up, it’s either for, like, seven weeks or seventy years.” He casually takes another bite of his sandwich. “Simone, when is it that Amy and Brandon are getting married?”
“They’re together?” I actually remember them. Amy was so enthusiastic, and Brandon was . . . a little creepy, admittedly.
“September,” Simone says, ignoring my question.
“Hey, plus-one, wanna carpool?” Bobby asks Simone.
“I did get my own invitation,” she says.
“I mean, hopefully I don’t have to find a new date before the wedding . . .”
“All right, fine,” I say. “Enjoy your wedding drama. Now really, can we talk about anything else, please,” I add, after once again accidentally making eye contact with Isaac. I’m relieved when he smiles back, so I try for some small talk.
“Long day,” I sign across the table. “Finally dinnertime.”
“Finally.” His mouth makes the “pah!” shape as his eyes twinkle. “I’m very hungry.” He does the sign slowly, and I know he’s 100 percent teasing me. Must’ve left a good first impression there.
I’m positive Simone and Bobby were exaggerating Gray Wolf’s rules on relationships. If anything, it might be discouraged, rather than flat-out banned. Like, it’s probably about keeping it after hours rather than putting it on display in front of the kids. That I can understand, but it also means the amount of time I’ll have to interact with Isaac is about to be sharply cut down when campers arrive.
Chapter Eight
Training week is going by fast, and I’m physically, and mentally, exhausted. There was a lot more sitting around learning safety protocols than I’d expected. But also plenty of breaks for going over the games and outdoor activities, during which I often tried to coincidentally end up by Isaac’s side. Before I know it, it’s Saturday and almost time for the final training week staff meeting. Campers arrive tomorrow.
We’re still waiting for everyone to make it to the dining hall. I got here early because I had to stop by the lot and check on my car, but where is everyone else? Director Gary is sitting alone at a table in the corner, making notes on a mess of papers in front of him. He waves for me to come talk to him.
“Grading papers?” I ask, standing there hesitantly. Why did he call me over?
He chuckles at my boring joke and nods to the empty chair across from him. “Join me here for a second.”
I take a seat, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flips one of the pages and frowns.
“What are you working on?” I ask. “I’m not in any sort of trouble, am I?”
I search my brain for why I could be here. Did he suddenly realize that I’m not qualified for this role? Did I somehow fail first aid training? I swear I was paying attention. Well, for most of it. Some of those videos were really long. Or did Simone and Bobby tattle on me for having a crush on a counselor, and Gary wants to stifle that before it becomes a potentially rule-breaking situation? Okay, that might be illogical.
“What? Oh, no. Nothing like that,” Gary says. “The opposite, in fact.” He scratches something out on the paper and writes what appears to be my name next to the word “Friday.” “I’m putting together the on-duty assignments. It’s complicated this year because, as assistant director, Ethan will be on call at night, rather than assigned to a specific shift. There’s already got to be some alternating and doubling, so basically we’re short a counselor for one of the weeknights.”
“I see . . .” But I don’t really know where he’s going with this.
Gary looks up at me. “It’s unconventional, and we’ve already got you taking on a lot of responsibility as a junior counselor, but would you be fine with covering one of the weekly shifts?”
“Oh, sure.” I shrug. “What exactly would I have to do?”
“While campers are here, we have two people on duty from lights-out until counselor midnight curfew. During these hours, the rest are off the clock. You’d hang out at the small firepit or in the staff cabin, so long as you make regular checks for any wanderers or bathroom-goers—that sort of thing.”
“That makes sense.”