“Look,” she says gently. “I promise it’ll be fun. You need to get out more. I can’t remember the last time you came to a party with me.”
“I go out.”
“To CC’s Coffee and, occasionally, Moe’s bar,” she says. “Babe, those don’t count.”
I sigh and go to justify myself, but she butts in. “And camp over summer doesn’t count,” Lacey says.
Right. Camp Pinehaven, where I spent my summer as a counselor.
The air conditioning failed during the worst heatwave inColorado history — 5 PM. on a Friday, obviously. Engineers couldn’t get there until Monday, and people acted like that meant the end of civilization. There were threats of calling parents. Tears. Someone tried to bribe the kitchen staff with weed to break into the supply closet and find fans.
Meanwhile, I decided to go elbow-deep in a 1970s HVAC system, sweat dripping down my spine, trying to keep us all from boiling to death in our sleep.
Three hours.
Just me, some barely-working tools, and a YouTube tutorial in 480p.
By the time I finally got the system back online, I was drenched, dusty, and one minor electric shock away from becoming a campfire ghost story.I would've haunted all their asses.
I walked out of the mechanical room, expecting... I don’t know. A thank you? A high-five?
At the very least, not what I got.
Which was a group of campers cheering — for TroyfreakingHawkins.
Because he’d walked in to grab a granola bar right as I was finishing up. I asked him to switch on the vents to test it out and it worked. So, he poked his head outside to everyone else, smiled, and said something like, “We’re all good in here.”
And then just...baskedin the applause.
I was still holding the damn screwdriver.
I confronted him later — politely. Calmly. Okay, notthatcalmly. I asked why he let them think that he fixed it.
He laughed.
“It’s just an AC unit, Greer. Not a big deal. Lighten up, Mittens.”
Mittens.
Because I’d worn the only gloves I could find to avoid electrocuting myself — these massive, ridiculous ski gloves —while crawling around in a baking hot mechanical room trying to keep the camp from turning into a heatstroke risk.
And that moment?That was it.
That was the moment I learned what I’d always suspected. Being right, being prepared, being the one who does the actual work — it means jack shit if someone more charming is standing nearby.
Troy hadn’t stolen the credit on purpose. He didn’t have to. People like him don’t need to.
They just show up, smile, and the world rearranges itself to make room.
Lacey shakes me out of my rage.
“Come on, Del, let’s get you out there again! And I know you had to Google how to network today, which means you are desperately inneedof some socializing practice. It’ll be good for your future. Your future, Del!”
“I guess you’re right. It could be fun.” I try so hard to sound enthusiastic.
She’s not wrong, which isdeeplyupsetting. It could be good for me to practice, plus I might see someone from the list there. Not hugely likely. I wonder what’s in the middle of the Venn diagram of people at an Alpha Si party and people accepted onto the innovators program.
“Besides,” she presses, smelling weakness, “this is a chill party. Not a rager. Carter said it’s mostly seniors, so it won’t be full of first-year idiots taking their first-ever shot of Fireball and throwing up in the backyard.”
