She seems eager for me to hit Play. “It certainly takes longer to get content up . . . but it’s worth it.”
This video must’ve been filmed during Mackenzie’s afternoon break, because she’s standing against the wooden wall of the dance hall with the sun shining brightly in front of her.
“Hey, friends!” she says in her typical cheery opening. “This is a short update to let you all know that I’m still alive and loving life at summer camp. If you have the spare means to do so, I really hope you’ll check out this fundraiser.” She points up to the left, where I assume she’ll be adding the link to our video. “Help us save this incredible place.
“Now, I also have some news. There are going to be some big, exciting changes coming to my channel soon. I can’t wait to share more, but for now, keep an eye out for this very special update. And if you have any suggestions about what you’d love to see on my channel, feel free to drop them in the comments. Love you all! And remember to like and subscribe!” Of course, she ends the video by waving the ASL “I love you” sign toward the camera.
“That looks good,” I say. “What are some of the other changes you’re going to do?”
Mackenzie shakes her head. “I’m not sure yet. Buying some time, and kind of hoping there’ll be some good feedback in the comments.”
“That’d be nice.” I notice that the tab for the fundraiser is open. “Have there been any updates?”
“We’re almost at the smaller summer repairs goal. Hopefully my followers can push us over that one at least.”
“Yeah, fingers crossed!” But I fall short of excitement. We still need more money in order to meet the main fundraiser goal and ensure that Gray Wolf can continue to exist. Repairing the cabins is helpful only if we’re able to house campers in them next summer. “Yeah, one step at a time, I guess.”
“Oh, by the way, it seems like Blake has a new friend,” Mackenzie adds.
“Really? Does that mean she and Honey are officially besties?”
Mackenzie laughs. “I meant your brother. We were paired for small-group activities with Bobby’s boys this afternoon. Blake and Max dominated in the obstacle races.”
“Interesting,” I say, drawing out the word. “Well, I’m glad he’s fitting in at camp.”
It makes sense that Max would gravitate toward other speakers at camp, but I want him to experience ASL this summer, and I’m not sure he’ll be getting that from Blake. And with Bobby as his counselor, he doesn’t have to work with the communication barrier on a daily basis, as he would if he were with Jaden’s or Isaac’s group. I’ll have to see how I can encourage him to give ASL a try.
* * *
Tuesday is sports day, so for the afternoon activity everyone hangs out on the big open field with footballs, volleyballs, soccer balls, baseballs, Hula-Hoops, and a whole assortment of other playground staples. Phoebe wants to sit in the shade and make more bracelets, and I’m happy to oblige.
I’m tying a bracelet around Phoebe’s wrist when Isaac walks over and asks, “Where’s your brother?”
I search the field and point to the baseball area. Max has picked up the Wiffle ball bat and is swinging it through the air.
“He likes baseball,” Isaac says, nodding approvingly. “That’s my game. So you wanted me to talk to him?”
“Yes, please.”
At the firepit last night, I told Isaac how frustrated I am that Max doesn’t seem as interested in learning ASL as I am. I guess a part of me is being selfish—I want him to learn so that I have someone at home to sign with once camp is over. But I also want him to know his communication options, especially with a big decision about a cochlear implant coming up.
“You good for a minute?” I ask Phoebe. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah, no hurry, I could do this for hours.” Phoebe has decided against making her string bracelet-length, so she keeps on braiding what looks like a long woven snake now.
I follow Isaac over to Max. “Want to play catch?” Isaac asks my brother.
Immediately Max looks at me. “What’d he say?” I shake my head and point back toward Isaac, who repeats his question. “Come on, Lilah,” Max whines.
Isaac breaks it down, one word at a time. “Play?”
“I don’t know what he’s saying,” Max says. “Lilah, just tell me.”
“What do you think he’s saying? What is everyone doing right now?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Max paces a few steps, looking around. “I don’t know, playing?”
“Right,” I say and sign. “Play.”
“F-l-y?” Isaac signs, picking up one of the Wiffle balls and nodding toward the bat.
“Come on,” I say. “I know you know the alphabet.”
“D?” Max asks.
I shake my head. “F-l-y.”
“Fly?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Isaac reaches out for the Wiffle bat. He nods for Max to run out farther into the grass.
“Oh, fly balls?” Max jogs back into position. He gestures throwing a ball high into the field.
“I think he figured it out,” Isaac signs to me with a grin. He tosses the ball into the air beside him, effortlessly swinging the bat to lob the ball in Max’s direction. Max runs to get it but misses. He chases after it and throws it back to Isaac, who catches it one-handed.
Isaac puts the bat beneath his arm and signs to Max. “Again?”
“What?” Max shouts, holding out his hand with one finger up. “Throw it again!”
“That’s the sign,” I say, repeating the word. “Again.”
“Oh, yeah,” Max says. “Again.” He tacks on another gesture to indicate throwing, and repeats a few more signs he knows. “Yes, again, throw!” But he tries to go too fast, and in all that waving, what he ends up with is mostly a jumble of nonsense.
“It’s okay to go slow,” I say. “You have to make sure that the clarity is there first. Speed will come with time, I promise.”
Isaac hits the ball directly in Max’s direction for an easy catch. Max throws it back, eagerly signing, “Again.” Then he points up to signal “higher next time.”
Isaac looks at me proudly and nods toward Max, as if to say, “Look at that.”
“It’s a start,” I sign. “Thank you.”
“Hey, are you talking about me?” my brother shouts.
“Yep,” I say, smiling.
Chapter Twenty-two
Before wandering off with Isaac after hours today, I want to clear the air with Simone. Bobby had a headache and went to bed early, so she’s alone at the firepit, reading one of her books.
“Hey, you’re not mad at me about the other night still?” I ask, diving right in.
“I don’t know.” She keeps running her fingers across a page, but I wait expectantly, so she pauses and looks up. “Like, I know you’re primarily hanging out with Phoebe, but sometimes it feels like I have an extra camper in my group now, not an extra counselor.”
“Oh. Sorry, I should’ve been more helpful. Working with the older girls has been so much easier than the younger kids, I guess I was treating it too much like a break. Or like the last few summers I missed being here as an older camper myself.”