I headed toward the campsite. “I guess we’re going camping.”
WALTER, STICK IT IN
"So, help me, if I have to break out the first-aid kit…"
The afternoon sun warmed the back of my neck as I crouched beside the gremlins. We'd claimed a spot near the gazebo, close enough to the path that people slowed for their weekend stroll. It was the first time I was okay with curious glances as they went for their weekend stroll.
"Keep your thumb here." I guided Ronnie's hand along the handle of the knife. "You want control, not force. Let the blade do the work."
He nodded, brow furrowed in concentration as he carved into the stick. Wood shavings collected on the grass between his crossed legs. To my left, Jeff had already finished whittling his spoon into something vaguely resembling a weapon. Matt worked slowly, methodically, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.
Behind us, the two tents Nick had set up earlier flapped gently in the breeze. One for us, one for the boys. The bright blue nylon stood out against the green, looking almost ridiculous in the middle of downtown. While some stopped to watch as we sat in a circle, sawing at wood, the boys didn't seem to notice. We existed in our own little bubble in the heart of Firefly.
"How's it coming?" I shimmied next to Matt.
"I think I'm doing it wrong." He held up the stick. His spoon worked better as a chopstick.
"You're doing fine. Nobody gets it perfect the first time. Look at Nick." Concentrating, he didn't notice us looking at his work. He was on his second or third attempt. They might look like spoons after they had gone through a wood chipper. "See?"
"At least I'm not the worst," Matt whispered. He returned to his stick. Small victories. One of Pops's sayings was: Celebrate the small victories, and the big ones take care of themselves.
The shadows from the gazebo stretched longer across the grass. We'd been at it for over an hour, the gremlins completely absorbed in their whittling. Even Ronnie had settled into a focused quiet, only occasionally looking up to compare his progress with the others. Who knew knives would keep kids quiet?
A car door slammed near the market. I glanced up to see Simon crossing the green, a red cooler in one hand and a rolled tent under his arm. Jason walked beside him, their outfits dangerously close to looking coordinated. The kid with them carried a bag that looked as if he might topple backward at any second. I couldn't tell if they were bringing supplies or if they intended to partake in Nick's scheme.
I got to my feet, brushing wood shavings off my jeans.
"Simon." I met them halfway across the grass. I gave Jason a wave as he took Lucas’s hand and continued to the campsite. It was weird to see somebody I went to high school with, there with his man-friend. If I had known how many handsome classmates would have turned into sexy bears, maybe I would have stayed.
"Charlie." He set the cooler down, shaking my hand. His grip was firm, callused. "Nick said something about a camping trip. Once Lucas heard, he wasn’t going to let us skip out. We’ll see if Jason can survive without Wi-Fi."
Pops would have snorted at their definition of ‘roughing it.’ Lucas ran by, heading toward the campsite. “Looks like you’re stuck here for the night.”
“In for a penny…” He let the words hang in the air as he broke into a smirk. “How’s it going so far?”
"Jury's still out on whether they'll make it through the night without setting something on fire."
Simon chuckled. "That's half the fun." Jason and Lucas stood over Nick before he threw his hands in the air, admitting defeat. Simon slowed his walk. "Charlie, what you're doing with them, the kids need this." I kept wondering if Pops had had the same feeling every time he had asked me to go with him. "They need to know there's a place for them. That they belong somewhere."
I didn't respond.
Simon met my eyes, and something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t pity. Maybe understanding? "Nobody is alone in Firefly, Charlie."
The words settled in my chest, heavier than they should be. Seamus had given me a similar dose of reality, a gut punch that left me reeling. It seemed in Firefly, having a beard and a belly meant doling out sagely wisdom. I was only beginning to understand the truth of that statement, at least in a way that didn’t make my skin crawl.
We approached the gremlins, and Simon raised his voice. "Who's hungry? We brought hot dogs for dinner!"
Ronnie's head shot up. "Hot dogs?"
"The good kind," Jason added, ruffling Lucas’s hair. "Not those cheap ones your dad pretends are edible."
"Hey," Simon protested, but he was grinning. They were a cute couple. After tonight, I’d have to grab some beers and reconnect with Jason. It’d be pleasant to hear from a classmate about life after high school.
Simon's kid crouched next to Ronnie. "Are you really going camping?"
"Yeah!" Ronnie abandoned his whittling, jumping to his feet. “After this, he’ll take us into the forest, and we’re going to live there for a while.” I appreciated his lofty ambitions. First, we needed to see if they survived the mysterious noises in the middle of the night.
"That's so cool." The kid turned to Simon. "Can I live in the woods, too?"
