Mackenzie signs to everyone who comes to our station, which I’m grateful for because it means I only have to add, “Hi, my name is L-i-l-a-h. Sign name Bug.” But some campers are more persistent than others in trying to sign more to me, assuming that will help get their message across. I hate having to rely on Mackenzie when I fall short, but I’m glad to be able to sign my responses on my own.
Whenever one of the girls arriving at our station is part of Mackenzie’s group, she lets me know, since I’ll be working with them, too. “This should be another one.”
“My name ——，” the girl signs as she sits down at my chair, but instead of fingerspelling her name, she goes straight for the sign name.
“Like h-o-n—” Mackenzie starts, but the girl cuts her off and repeats the sign. “Right, her name is Honey,” Mackenzie says and signs. “So that’s her sign name, too.”
“That’s very cute,” I say while gently moving her braids aside to search her head. She seems to be about nine or ten, on the older end of our group, which comprises ages seven through ten.
Ethan and Gary are taking turns escorting campers to the cabins. They’ll get settled in and play something while they wait for others to arrive, such as Duck, Duck, Goose, which for our purposes is more like a game of Pat, Pat, Shove. In this version, kids don’t have to try to listen or read the lips of the person walking around the circle.
“Finished!” I say and sign, moving in front of Honey.
“Thank you!” She stands but doesn’t walk away yet. Honey signs something to me, but I stare blankly. She repeats herself, tapping her foot for good measure. I saw the word “counselor.”
“Yeah, Mackenzie is your counselor,” I say and sign, taking my best guess.
“No,” Mackenzie says, stepping in. “She’s asking about you.”
“Oh, right.” I nod. “J-r counselor. I’ll be helping your group.”
“Cool.” Honey smiles and runs off.
Finally, after a long, hot afternoon, the arrival of campers has slowed to a stop. The parking lot is back to empty, with the exception of a few staff member vehicles and Gray Wolf’s giant van.
Ethan gets up from the welcome table and comes over with Gary’s clipboard. “Just one left. The last of your group. She’s notoriously late every year. We’ll give it another ten, and if she’s not here yet, Gary can check her in later.”
We wait. Mackenzie is about to plop down in one of the folding chairs when a large pickup truck comes squealing into the lot. Ethan looks at his watch. “With one minute to spare.” Instead of greeting the truck, he goes back to the table and sits down beside Gary.
A man in camo pants and a sleeveless top steps down from the driver’s seat while a young girl jumps from the passenger side, clutching a duffel bag in her arms. The father, I presume, pulls a giant adult-size sleeping bag from the truck bed. Mackenzie walks to greet them, but they only lift their heads in acknowledgment and head for the table.
“Hi, Blake!” Ethan says and signs, calling out to the camper.
But Blake’s dad waves him off. “That’s all right, we’ll deal with this one here.” He points to Gary. “She doesn’t need that sign language. She’s got the hearing aids for that.”
Blake nods in agreement with her dad. Ethan purses his lips but lets Gary handle the paperwork. Choosing to sign or not can be personal preference, but this dad should really let his kid decide for herself. My parents didn’t pursue ASL, but at least they were never against my learning it.
“Over here,” Mackenzie calls for Blake to stop by the head-check.
“Ah, better not have lice. You’re not my responsibility for the rest of the summer, you hear?” he says, then looks up at Mackenzie.
That’s certainly one way to think about it . . . I don’t like this guy.
Blake sits down and pulls her blond hair back, revealing dark-green hearing aids—a camouflage casing. A little embarrassed by her dad, she gives an apologetic shrug.
“Any other permission forms I need to sign?” Blake’s dad asks at the check-in table. “For horseback riding trips and whatnot?”
Gary clears his throat. “We actually aren’t doing any off-site activities this summer.”
“Well, that’s a rip-off.” The dad grumbles but doesn’t complain further. Good, because he’s not actually paying anything in the first place. Even if he’s just sending Blake to camp for the free childcare, I’m glad she gets to experience Deaf culture. When I was a kid, my counselors were Deaf role models. It’s on me to be that person for Blake now.
After the all clear at head-check, Blake waves goodbye to her dad and follows Mackenzie and me to join our group.
* * *
Our cabin is a cozy wooden rectangle with wall-to-wall bunk beds, just enough to sleep six campers, Mackenzie, and me. Simone and Natasha’s teens and tweens are sharing the slightly larger building next door.
Several girls in our group are enthusiastically reuniting, thrilled to be back. A couple of others seem like nervous newcomers, carefully going over their bed setups one more time. I can already tell this is the cleanest this cabin is going to look for the whole summer.
I’m leaning on my bunk, sneaking a quick look at my cell phone, when someone shouts.
“What are you saying?” Blake screams. “Just talk!”
Blake and Honey are standing face-to-face in front of the corner beds. Mackenzie tries to distract the other girls, but they’re all watching the argument.
Honey’s hands are flying. Her teeth clenched. I didn’t think I’d see this sweet girl so angry, let alone with the amount of fury in her eyes as she stares down Blake. On the other hand, Blake looks indignant. She sits down on the bunk, still clutching her giant sleeping bag. Her duffel is at her feet, beside Honey’s bags.
Honey leans forward, still signing; then Blake slaps Honey’s hands away from her.
“Blake, you do not hit!” Mackenzie jumps forward to restrain Honey from lunging toward Blake.
“I didn’t,” Blake said. “I had to get her out of my face.”
“No,” Mackenzie continues. “You do not touch someone else like that. Ever. Or we will call your parents and you’ll go back home.”
“It’s not my fault,” Blake says, her hands balled into fists at her side. “I don’t know what she’s saying.”
Mackenzie takes a deep breath. “Lilah, do you mind?” She nods toward Blake, while she bends down to sign with Honey.
Right, I need to help defuse this situation somehow. Am I supposed to reprimand Blake? I crouch down beside her. “What’s going on?”
“She was in my face, being super annoying,” Blake whines, “and wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“She was saying”—Mackenzie turns back to us—“that you are sitting on her bed.”
“No, I’m not. I picked this bed,” Blake says.
“Her stuff was already there,” Mackenzie says and signs, pointing to the bags. “But the top bunk is free, so you can have it.”
“No, it’s not fair. I don’t want that one.” Blake crosses her arms. “You just like her better because she’s Deaf.”