“Oh,” her pout droops into a proper frown and she reaches out tentatively to squeeze my forearm, “I’m sorry to hear that. You must be pretty disappointed.”
I shrug.
After another moment, she asks, “So…what did you do today instead?”
“I went for a hike on the path around the side of the mountain. It was only a short hike, and the view from the top was really nice.” It would have been nicer to have someone to share it with —to point out the squirrels and the birds to— but I’m used to enjoying my own company. “Then I swam in the lake and had a nap during the afternoon activities.” We’ve made it to the mess hall by the time I incline my head at her. “What did you do today?”
“They brought out lawn games in the morning, so I played with some new friends before lunch, and then I went to the Littles sandcastle building activity with one of the volunteer Daddies. The counselor running it was fun. He showed me how to build tall towers by dripping really wet sand from a bucket. Then he gave us all candy at the end. Oh! There he is! Hi Counselor Kris!”
She waves emphatically over my shoulder and the back of my neck heats up.
“Hey, Tess,” Kris’s voice is just as warm and friendly as it was the other day. He comes up to my side as he adds, “Hi, Benji. Did you both have a good day?”
“Benji spent today alone,” Tess rats me out without any prompting.
My lips part in shock and I stare at her in bewilderment while Kris’s tone turns concerned, “Is that true? Are you not enjoying the camp?”
Giving Tess my best sarcastic ‘thanks for that’ glare, I huff, “I’m fine. The camp is fine. I just, uh, needed some me time.”
There’s a weighted pause and Kris gently guides me by the elbow so we can move away from the main door to the mess hall, stepping off the path entirely. “Were you feeling overstimulated, or did you have a bad day yesterday?”
He knows I got kicked out of the group.
I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. I’ll bet Counselor Becky blabbed.
Stupid Becky.
Feeling my eyes burn with traitorous tears, I look down at the ground and shrug listlessly.
“Oh, honey,” I usually hate pity, but hearing the empathy in Kristian’s voice doesn’t make me all rage-y and defensive. If anything, it makes my lower lip wobble dangerously. “Can I hug you, Benji?”
Words are impossible, so I just swallow roughly and bob my head once. Then big, strong arms are wrapping around me and I’m pressed against his soft chest and belly. He’s warm, and he smells like the forestry I spent the morning hiking through. My muscles seem to melt into his hold as I breathe him in.
“Good,” he murmurs lowly into my ear. “Good boy, Benji. I’m proud of you for knowing you needed to step back for the day, but I’m sorry you were alone for it.”
Thankfully, the urge to cry has faded, but my throat still feels tight when I rasp out, “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
I can’t interpret the sound he makes at the back of his own throat, but I feel like he squeezes me just a touch tighter. Or maybe some stupid part of my not-yet-completely-broken hope has invented that additional squeeze just to torture me some more.
“If you feel like that again, I want you to come find me, okay?” Kris says, still murmuring so that nobody else can hear our conversation. “Day or night.”
I won’t be doing any such thing, but I hum my agreement anyway, trying not to be too sad when he slowly lets me out of his hug. “Okay.”
***
Kristian sits with me and Tess at dinner, and then he tells me that we should go for a walk around the camp together before the movie night kicks off. I wasn’t planning on going to the movie, but when I open my mouth to tell him that, what comes out is “Do you know what the movie’s going to be?”
“Something with broad appeal.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “I voted for the Rugrats movie.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Rugrats? Really?”
He shrugs. “It’s nostalgic. Plus,” he looks over towards the lake, which is shimmering in the orange light of the setting sun, “I like Angelica.”
Kris sounds nonchalant, but I can see right through him. It makes my stomach flip-flop again. “Angelica, huh? The brat?”
“She can be a bit naughty, yeah,” he acknowledges, “but it’s the only way she knows how to get attention. And, when it comes down to it, she’s a softie underneath all the prickle and tantrums.” He turns to face me now, stopping midway along the path we’re meandering down. The look he fixes me with is serious. “Angelica being a brat doesn’t make her unlovable. All the other Rugrats love her for who she is, too, even if sometimes they don’t understand her.”
This lecture aboutAngelica(definitelynot about me) is sweet, but it makes me want to roll my eyes. I don’t, though. Not with how earnest Kristian seems. Like with Tess, it feels almost cruel to be snarky and dismissive of his kindness, even if I think it’s wasted on me.
