Nate threw his arms around his husband and clutched him close. “Thank you, Davy! You just planted a seed I didn’t even know I needed.
“You would have thought of it.”
“Maybe, but thank you anyway, my love.”
David pressed a soft kiss to his husband’s lips. “My pleasure.”
Nate’s fingers traced David’s cheek, his voice low and teasing. “No … that comes later tonight.” His grin turned wicked as he poked David’s ribs and added: “And so doyou.”
That night,Nate lay in bed wrapped in David’s arms, his mind racing. He could already see it—their words, their stories, their brilliance brought to life on the national stage through his UVA position. But he couldn’t tell them. Not yet. First, they needed topour their hearts into their Camp Pride play, to let themselves create without any distractions. The rest … the rest could wait.
Friday
After breakfast the next morning, the writing group gathered at their pavilion to start writing their play. Nate could see how nervous the young writers were as they prepared for this challenge. “How do you want to approach this?” Nate asked. “Do you want to do the entire play as a group? Or would you prefer to break into smaller groups and tackle each phase of the visitations from their future selves separately?”
The class spoke together, heads gathered close, while Nate sat at the head of the table in complete silence.
“What doyouthink, Nate?” Rowan asked.
“Nope,” Nate replied. “This isyourplay. Start to finish, these have to beyourideas. You get to write your own story. We’re just here to help you hold the pen. I’ll help with writing suggestions, structure, pacing, emphasis, maybe suggest a word change or two … but this play has to be written byyou.”
Calab turned to Rowan. “It’s your idea, Rowan. What do you think?”
Rowan paused, seeming to consider the various options, then lifted his head. “I think we should develop the visitations one by one with all of us working on the writing together.”
Nate placed the computer in front of Rowan. “OK. Here we go. The first visitation is the scared teenager. Feed Rowan your ideas, and go slow so he can type them in … then we’ll revise.”
Rowan rested his fingers on the keyboard, then hesitated, his eyes darting to his classmates. “No pressure, right?” he joked, earning a few chuckles. Then, taking a deep breath, he positioned his hands. “OK. Let’s do this.”
“He’s hesitant,” offered Caleb. “Shy even. He’s afraid you won’t listen to him or believe in him.”
“But,” Elliot added. “He has a brilliant mind.”
“Yes!” Wesley, added. “But he’s too shy to show it!”
“And what message does he have for the lonely camper?” Nate asked. “And perhaps he should have a name?”
“Let’s call him …” Wesley began, then hesitated.
“Amos!” Rowan called out.
“Why Amos?” Nate asked.
“My favorite character onThe Expanse,” Rowan said, giving a sheepish grin.
“As good a reason as any,” Nate said, laughing. “I love that series too!”
“OK, what message does teenage Amos have for lonely Amos?”
Wesley hesitated, then spoke: “I think he’d say something about fear, like: Fear’s gonna hit you. Life’s gonna knock you down. But that doesn’t meanstop. It just means you get back up and keep going. Because that’s how you get where you need to go!”
Rowan typed furiously, nodding as the words flew from his fingers.
“How about this?” Elliot added. “He takes a deep breath, then looks directly at lonely Amos. You don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room to be heard. Just speak your truth and people will listen.”
A hush settled over the group. Then, Caleb whispered, “Damn, that’s good.”
Nate blew out a breath, forcing himself to remain silent … to let his students take the lead but feeling goosebumps sweep over him as their voices all lifted in praise for Elliot’s offering.
