But we all know it is.
Imogen sniffles next to me and Ava elbows her in the stomach. “Softie!”
“It makes me weepy,” she whispers, which causes me to stifle a laugh.
“Oh shit, you ready?” Ava asks. She nudges me and we all look toward the center of the circle, where Stu and Mellie are closing out color war with a few more traditions. They make nice with the losing teams and award the winning captains the massive trophy that will sit in the dining hall engraved, now with their names and year on it. If I squint, I think I can see mine. Stu clears his throat.
“And as per tradition, we’d like to invite all of the previous captains up to sing the Alpine Lake alma mater with us.” He extends his arm to the counselor area. Pride swells in my heart, even though there are still so many questions about what this place means to me now that it’s forever intertwined with Heller’s death. But I can’t deny that honors like winning color war still mean as much to me as they do to the kids. In the confines of camp, they’re everything.
A handful of us stand and we join Stu and Mellie and this year’s captains around the fire. I look to my right and left and see Levin, Tommy, Craig, and some of the special events staff. A moment of understanding passes between us. No one else knows how it feels to be victorious, to lead another group of your peers through battle, to feel worthy.
“Join us,” Stu says. We wrap our arms around one another and sing the words we know by heart.
I gaze out at the circle and beyond, at this community, constructed out of air and wood and dirt. How did it become something so much bigger than one person? Than one experience? Iwonder for how many people here did it become a lifeline? And how, for Heller, did it become a death sentence?
By the time the song ends, there are tears in my eyes. Imogen and Ava approach and wrap me in a hug, their bodies warm against my own. “You ready?” Ava whispers in my ear.
The answer is obvious. “Yes.”
---
Later that night, after the cabin is full of sweet little snores and we’re sure Mellie and Stu have gone to the wine bar in town with all the other camp elders, I tiptoe outside to meet Ava and Imogen. Together we make a mad dash for the winter cabin.
I know it better than anyone else in camp. How it always smells of rosemary and cinnamon, thanks to the candles Mellie buys, and how the pillows are refreshed every other year so it always feels new and pristine.
Stepping onto the white wood porch feels like a betrayal, but I know we have no other choice. I enter a series of numbers on the keypad and feel my heart beat fast as the door unlocks.
I lead Ava and Imogen to the back of the house so we can access the office. It’s the only part of the cabin that’s less than perfect, messy even. There’s a combination on this door, too, but it opens when I enter the correct code.
“Right there,” I say, pointing to the metal rack full of old equipment. Imogen starts going through it all, pulling out CD players and DVD machines, boom boxes and old-school walkie-talkies.
“What the hell is this stuff?” Ava asks.
“Junk,” Imo says, pulling out one random device after another.
We each take a rack and start going through everything, lookingforsomethingthat could be hooked up to the camera by the lake.
“Think this is it?” Ava holds up a square khaki cube that looks like it’s from the seventies.
“Nope,” I say. “The camera was black with white lettering. I bet its receiver matches.”
We’re silent, moving aside hard drives and electronics until Imogen pulls out a small black handheld device that looks like a vintage Game Boy but larger. Almost like an iPad but clunkier. The brand name is scrawled in white along the top.
“Eh?” she asks, holding it up.
It looks familiar. “I think my parents had one of those when I was a kid. They used it to make sure the feral cats stayed out of Mom’s tomatoes.”
“Looks like it needs to be plugged in.” Imogen starts searching through a box of wires and dongles, until she emerges with something that fits into the back of the machine.
She shoves it into the wall and there’s nothing left to do but wait.
Ava taps her fingers against the table and Imogen’s doing some meditative breathing thing until finally the screen flickers on.
When we see the screen, I gasp. It’s right there. All the footage from the summer, cataloged by date.
I peer over Imogen’s shoulder as she uses the chunky arrow buttons to scroll down. Wind chimes tinkle on the front porch and a shiver slinks up my spine. “Can we go any faster?” I ask.
“I’m trying,” Imo says, fear in her voice. For all her and Ava’s talk, I know she doesn’t want to get caught, doesn’t want to feel the wrath of Stu and Mellie’s disappointment. Lucky for me, I’ve already felt it once before.
