He waited until he had their full attention.
“Close your eyes.”
The campers exchanged glances, but one by one, they did as he asked.
“Now," Nate continued, his voice quiet but steady, “I want you to imagine it’s the last night of camp. The fire is burning, the stars are out, and every single person here is waiting to hear a story. Not just any story—the right story.Ourstory. The one thatneeds to be told.” He hesitated for a moment then whispered: “Which one is it?”
A long silence settled over the pavilion. The only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves in the afternoon breeze.
Nate let the moment stretch, giving them space to feel, to search, to know.
Finally, a soft voice broke through the stillness.
“I think …” Caleb’s voice was tentative at first, but then it steadied. “I think … it’s Rowan’s.”
A small intake of breath. Rowan’s head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise. “Wait, what?Why?”
Caleb opened his eyes, looking at the others before speaking. “Because it’s all of us,” he said simply. “We’ve all had moments where we needed to know that things would get better. That we would get better. That one day, we wouldn’t feel so … lost.” He swallowed, glancing at Nate.The Campfire Wishsays that. It shows it. And I think that’s what Camp Pride needs to hear.”
Jasper nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s what I wish someone had told me.”
Elliot let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Me too.”
Wesley tapped his fingers against the table, thoughtful. “It’s got everything—struggle, hope, identity, self-acceptance.” He grinned at Rowan. “And let’s be real, AChristmas Carolis a damn classic. One we all know and love. You’re in good company.”
A few chuckles rippled through the group, but the mood remained reverent.
Rowan still looked uncertain. “But …allthe plays are so good. They all deserve to be shown!”
“And they will be,” Nate assured him. “We’re going to honorallof these plays, I promise you. But for this moment, this last night together? This is the one that needs to be told.”
Rowan swallowed, his fingers tightening around the edges of his notebook. Slowly, he nodded. “OK.” Then, a little stronger: “OK.”
Nate smiled. “Then it’s settled.”
He looked around at them, pride filling his chest. They had made the decision—not by arguing, not by voting, but by listening to their inner voices … and letting those voices lead them. And that is exactly what storytelling is all about.
“We have our play,” he said. “And we’ll make it something they’ll never forget.” He rose from his seat. “It’s getting close to dinnertime. Let’s call it a night and tomorrow … webegin.”
The group wanderedto the dining room, their energy somewhat subdued, as if they were weary from completing an important and momentous task. At the entrance they paused and embraced their leader. One by one they thanked him, and then moved to the line of campers waiting to fill their plates.
Nate stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to gather himself, moved nearly to tears by the moment he had just shared with his students. A familiar warmth curled around Nate’s shoulders, and he turned, meeting David’s loving smile. “Hey there, rabble-rouser. How did class go?”
Nate shook his head, scattering the tears that rested on his cheeks. “David … thoseplays.” Nate exhaled, shaking his head. “How do kids this young already have that kind of depth?”
David’s arms clasped him close, then he lifted Nate’s face and kissed the tears from his cheeks. “My dearest husband, they had a great teacher. You led them on this journey. You helped them awaken the inspiration that was always within them. I’m not surprised that their plays were good.”
“We decided on the one we’re going to put on, but David, that’s not good enough! ALL of those plays deserve to be showcased!”
“Then showcase them!” David said with a gentle laugh. “You’re a professor at one of the biggest universities in the country. You’re an important playwright whose work has been shown on Broadway.”
“AlmostBroadway,” Nate interrupted, using Colin’s teasing phrase.
David scoffed. “Whatever. If you want to showcase all their plays,do it! Put them on at UVA.”
Nate took a step back, eyes wide. He clasped both of David’s arms, a wide grin lighting up his face. “YES!” he cried out. “Yes! I could combine them all into one glorious play and use it as the sophomore class play for the year!”
“And give all your students credit as coauthors.”
