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“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because Omar likes him.”

“So do you.”

I stared at the open shed door. Beyond it, sunlight cut across the grass in narrow strips and dust particles drifted through the air.

I headed back outside. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you’ve spent the last week watching Alvin like he’s the only person at camp.”

“He’s my roommate, my co-counselor. It’s my job to look out for him.”

“You know what shirt he’s wearing every day. You make a comment about it at breakfast,” she added.

“He wears ridiculous clothing.”

“You know where he is in every room.” I didn’t answer. She continued anyway. “You know when he doesn’t come back to the cabin at night.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Instead of responding, Cindy stepped closer. “You know exactly what you’re doing to him, Darius. You tell him to go on the date. Then you destroy the date because you can’t stand watching him be happy with someone else.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Then tell me what happened, Dee.” She sighed.

“I turned on the sprinklers.”

“Why?”

“Because it was hot.”

“It’s summer. It’s always hot.” Cindy shook her head. “You’re a terrible liar, Darius D’Angelo.”

“I’m good enough when I need to be,” I muttered under my breath. Then I looked out at the trail again.

Alvin and Omar had moved away from their ruined picnic. They were walking towards the lake, still holding hands. Alvin was talking with his whole body, waving his free arm around while Omar listened. Every now and then, Omar glanced down at him with that same easy smile I couldn’t stand. And every now and then, Alvin smiled back.

I knew what I was supposed to do. I’d already done it. I’d told him to go. I’d told him Omar could give him what I couldn’t. A normal date without having to hide anything.

Omar could take Alvin to dinner. Omar could kiss him without wondering who might walk in. Omar could want him without feeling like wanting him made him dirty. A disgrace.

I couldn’t do any of those things. Not without tearing apart everything I’d built. My reputation. My family’s name. My ma’s hopes and dreams. The work I’d spent years doing to prove I was the man everyone expected me to be. The version of myself I’d forced into place so completely that sometimes I couldn’t tell where the pretending stopped.

Admitting I wanted Alvin wouldn’t just change my life. It would end it. Not literally. That would have been easier. It would end the life I knew how to live. The one where my ma looked at me and saw the son she’d spent her youth raising up right.

“Darius,” Cindy whispered from beside me. I glanced over at her. “You need to leave them alone.”

“I’m not bothering them.” I snatched one of the abandoned water guns from the grass. “The campers are waiting.”

“They’re on the porch.”

“Then I’ll go get them.”

“Darius,” she tried again.