If nothing else comes of this time with Isaac, at least this will still be a summer to remember.
Chapter Sixteen
Back at the cabin shortly after the dance, the campers are so exhausted that they crash into bed immediately at curfew. I stifle a yawn myself, but I’m reenergized as soon as I change out of worn-out athletic gear and into nicer shorts and a real bra （outside-world clothes）。 I wear my hair down, tucking the sides back with bobby pins. And finally, I do my face with light makeup, the usual for a typical day out with friends, much more put together than my standard camp fare.
Ethan catches me on my way back from the bathhouse. “Where ——？”
“Sorry, I don’t,” I say, pointing to my ears.
“Oh, you don’t have your hearing aids in,” he says and signs. “Did you get my text?”
“Not yet, my phone is in my bunk.”
“All right, we’re meeting in the parking lot in ten minutes.”
Mackenzie’s already dressed and on her way out. I grab my phone to read Ethan’s text to all the counselors and hurry so I can catch up.
Ethan: Heeeey everybody, meet in the parking lot for another camp tradition
Jaden: FREDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDYS
I text Simone as I leave the cabin.
Lilah: Hey Simone, what’s all the hype about Freddy’s?
Simone: It’s a bar down the road. Cheap beer, decent food, the owner loves when counselors come to visit.
Lilah: Oh . . . I’m not twenty-one
Simone: Nah this place won’t care, you’re good
I’ve never been to this kind of bar before. At least I’m not the only one underage.
All the counselors stand around the parking lot waiting for Ethan to confirm that Gary and the nurse are all set for duty tonight.
It’s jarring to see Isaac with his hair combed back and a casual short-sleeved button-down. But it confirms for me that I’m not seeing him through “camp goggles”—this guy is attractive. I hide my smirk when I catch him giving me a double glance as well.
Ethan finally strolls over and unlocks the camp’s twelve-seater van. He takes the driver’s seat and turns around to look at us. “Everybody, click in,” he says and signs. He turns on the ignition and the radio blares.
I’m squished in the very back between Simone and Bobby. The van bumps along the rough gravel road. I reach out and hold on to the seat in front of me. As Ethan drives, he makes conversation with Natasha in the passenger seat, signing with one hand and looking to his right. Which feels safer than when he signs with Isaac and Jaden using the rearview mirror. But Ethan doesn’t swerve a single time on the quiet country road, and we make it to the bar in one piece.
Ethan pulls into a dimly lit lot that’s in the middle of nowhere. There’s a small brick building, no larger than our dining hall, with nothing else around but trees. Yet a few other cars are in the parking lot.
Simone is visibly relieved when we tumble out of the van. “Thank God —— any oncoming traffic,” she says loudly.
“Maybe I’ll drive home,” Bobby suggests. “With you guiding me.”
She grabs his arm and leads him into the bar through a doorway that’s propped open with a brick. A tilted neon sign hanging in the grimy window says Freddy’s.
I follow everyone into the establishment, wanting to catch up to Isaac, who’s at the front of our group with his friends. This place is quiet. There’s a bartender, who looks like she teaches third grade by day, and a small table of men with long white hair, which they’ve tied back into ponytails beneath their trucker hats. On his way to get another drink, one of the guys stops near us at the bar and says something to Mackenzie.
But Mackenzie shakes her head and signs, “No, I’m okay. Later, man.”
Does she not realize we’re not at camp anymore? Why is she signing to this random guy?
He scrunches up his face, notices everyone in our group is also signing, then shrugs and walks back to his buddies with his drink. Mackenzie lets out a sigh of relief.
“Why’d you do that?” I drag out my sign for the word “why” to emphasize my confusion.
“I’ve found it’s the easiest way to get guys at bars to back off,” she explains, obviously proud of her life hack.
But I push back. “How so?”
“They don’t think it’s worth the effort.”
Wow. To Mackenzie, sign language is a skill to get followers on YouTube and use whenever it’s convenient for her. She’s trying to use it as a deterrent, when in reality a disability doesn’t save you from harassment. Rather, it often makes deaf people more of a target for harm or abuse.
There aren’t many tables to choose from, so we sit along the sticky bar. The bartender puts three pitchers overflowing with beer in front of us, along with a stack of recently washed cups, not unlike the plastic ones we use at camp, that are still dripping water. Jaden slides the cups across the bar to everyone, but when he gets to me, he signs, “You drink water.”
“Right.” Even though I wasn’t ID’d, I guess we’ll still follow the law. Except, Natasha to my right is filling up her glass.
Isaac stops her when pouring his just under the halfway point. “I have to run tomorrow,” he signs. They’re eighteen. Jaden’s only a year older, so nineteen or twenty at most.
Ethan walks up to me. “Hey, you’re only drinking water, right?”
“Yeah, but . . .” I point, not too obviously, at the others.
“But they’re not the DD,” he signs.
“You’re driving,” Natasha says and signs to me, not beating around the bush.
“I’m driving?” I ask. “That thing?”
“I did it last year. You’ll be fine.” She pulls out her wallet and leans across the counter to hand cash to the bartender. “Wings and a giant pretzel, please. Keep the change.”
Her wallet is still open, so I spy a card in the clear slot where a driver’s license usually goes. It has the word Deaf in big letters.
“What’s that?” I ask.
She snaps her wallet closed. “Deaf ID.” She takes a long sip of her beer and walks away.
“Deaf ID?” I say and sign to Ethan, who steps up to take her spot. “Do you have that?”
“Nah, I use my phone, but some people go old-school.”
“Exactly what for?” I ask, signing “for-for.”
“Emergency circumstances, like, if you get pulled over while driving, to show the cop why you can’t hear them,” he says and signs. “It’s especially for deaf people who don’t use voice.”
“Interesting.” I sigh. “I feel like I keep needing Natasha to interpret or teach me about Deaf culture. I worry it bothers her.”
“Nah, she can be a little rough around the edges. Very Deaf ——。 I mean, you can be, too.”
“I’m what?” I ask, not recognizing the sign, either.
“Deaf-blunt,” Ethan repeats, holding a flat B-shape perpendicular to his face, then pushing it forward. “Speaking your mind or emotions. Very observational comments because we are very observational people.”
Huh. I want to be offended, but I’m proud to have a Deaf trait associated with me. “I guess.”