“Have you seen Gary at all today?” Mackenzie asks as I reach out to ask a camper for her hair tie to finish off her braid.
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
“I overheard him telling Ethan something about donations.”
“Huh, we’ll have to ask about that later tonight.”
Twenty minutes later, Bobby’s, Simone’s, and Natasha’s groups all arrive and head into the dance barn, and Bobby gets to work connecting his phone to play his carefully crafted playlist for the dance.
With the campers’ hair done, Mackenzie finishes up her own pigtails. “Want me to do yours, too?”
“Um,” I say. “Maybe a half-up, half-down situation?”
“Sure,” Mackenzie agrees. “That’ll be easy enough.”
Jaden’s and Isaac’s groups are the last to show up. The boys run inside, hoping to influence Bobby’s music selection.
Isaac stops on the way up the stairs, watching Mackenzie playing stylist on me. He takes a step back down. “It looks pretty.”
“Thanks.” I can’t hide my face because Mackenzie still has a tight hold on my head. Bobby starts playing some pre-show tunes, and the wooden planks vibrate beneath me.
Isaac takes a seat on the step below me and flashes a smile over his shoulder. “One, please.”
He leans back, sitting between my legs so I can grab some hair from the crown of his head. There’s enough that I’m able to twist it into a ridiculous little braid that sticks straight up. I pull a spare purple hairband off my wrist and secure it around this absurd updo.
I tap his shoulder. “All done.”
Isaac reaches up, then shakes his head from side to side. “Silly. All right, time to dance!”
Mackenzie and I laugh as Isaac hops up and heads inside. Once my own braid is complete, we gather our girls into the dance barn. All the campers take a seat, either on the floor or in the few chairs along the wall, for the evening to start with the talent show.
Our group’s performance goes surprisingly well. Blake sways along to the music during the verses, but signs the refrain without missing a beat. As we walk back to our seats, she keeps signing the refrain, and Honey joins in. Who would’ve thought?
Loud, joyful shouts accompany signed applause to fill the gaps between the routines that follow. There’s a comedy skit, a couple of dance numbers, and an ASL story, and by the end, the campers are all amped-up.
The show ends with the senior counselors dancing to a song—which they do every year. The lights are dimmed, signaling the final performance of the night. As the staff dance their way to the front, I’m happy to lean on the “junior” part of my role and stay seated with the kids. But Isaac stops in front of me, continuing his goofy dancing with his hand outstretched.
The girls from my cabin are laughing. “Go, Lilah,” Blake says, pushing me forward.
Fine. I take Isaac’s hand, and we fly onto the stage, jumping and dancing around as Ethan gestures for the campers to hit the dance floor. Simone hands out dollar store glow sticks for everyone to wear around their wrists as they dance or sign along. The moving lights are dazzling, but this is no rave. It’s fewer than forty people in a barn that could easily hold three hundred.
Isaac spins me around and twirls me back toward him. Simone holds out green and purple glow sticks for us.
He grabs my hand again, pulling me close and dipping me backward, my hair hanging down over my shoulders. It’s summer camp. I’m literally wearing gym shoes and a tank top, but somehow, I feel fancy. I’m sure Isaac and I will have to pull away at some point. But I don’t want to. I want to hold on to him tight and never let go . . .
Until my right hearing aid beeps and goes staticky, blurring out the music around me. With the right one gone, the left will soon follow. I stop moving and step back from Isaac, who also freezes, confused. I pull out my right hearing aid and hold it up before running off toward my backpack.
Sure enough, the left hearing aid also beeps. I shove around everything in my bag, unable to find a pack of batteries. Sometime last week I used the remaining ones, and I never got replacements from my suitcase. I don’t want to go all the way back to the cabins right now. I could ask if anyone has spare batteries, but everyone’s having a great time on the dance floor.
Then it hits me. I go without my hearing aids often lately, every day at the lake or the pool. Or last night around the campfire with Isaac, Natasha, and Jaden. I’m surrounded by Deaf people. If there’s ever a place I should feel comfortable going without my hearing aids, it’s here. Plus, Isaac is waiting for me on the dance floor.
I pull out my left hearing aid as well and toss them both into the Otterbox. The music is blaring so loud I’m still able to hear the beat.
While I can tell there’s a song playing, what I hear is more subdued, faded. Some of the melody, none of the words. My brain is no longer trying hard to search for the lyrics. I’m embracing the beat, which, amplified by the movement of people around me, shakes the floor beneath my feet.
Despite my hurrying back to the dance area, Isaac has been pulled into a circle with a bunch of campers, so I find a spot next to my cabin group. Honey signs something to Mackenzie, who then signs to me, “Some of the girls need to go to the bathroom. We’ll be right back.”
We communicate despite the loud environment, with no leaning forward, no asking “what,” and no hearing aids. To some degree, going without them is a vulnerable experience, but it’s also liberating.
Someone taps my shoulder. It’s Isaac. He’s taken his ridiculous braid down, but I notice he’s slipped my purple hair tie around his wrist with his camp bracelets. He reaches for my hand and pulls me close once more. He nods back toward my backpack. “Okay?” he asks one-handed.
I turn my head side to side to demonstrate.
He tilts his head, confused. “You took them out?”
I nod, unsure what his reaction will be. “For now.”
Isaac reaches up and brushes my hair back behind my unencumbered ears.
“I feel strange without them,” I say slowly, staring into his dark eyes.
He lets his hand linger at my neck for a moment before bringing it back to his chest to sign with a small shrug, “Just different.”
The tempo drops because, of course, Bobby stuck a slow song into the mix. Isaac reaches his arms out to me. I crash forward into his chest for a tight hug. This ballad has less of a beat. The ground beneath my feet is steady, but I lean against Isaac and feel his heart race.
He has me so confused. Would it be too much for him to admit if he likes me or not? This is totally a romantic moment, right? There’s no way I’m misinterpreting this. Is it really that hard for him to communicate his feelings? Or at least stop toying with mine?
I’m so absorbed in the moment that it’s startling to realize some kids are watching us. No one else is dancing to the song. But my arms are around Isaac’s neck, and his hand is resting on my back. I’m not going to let anything ruin this moment.
But of course the next song on the playlist is the chicken dance.
We’re immediately torn apart by our attention-seeking campers, while Bobby laughs about his song selection. Great.
Isaac gives a wide apologetic smile. “See you after hours?”