“I don’t think sexuality has to do with it, necessarily,” Paz says.
“I think what straight people think queer people are shouldn’t matter,” Ashleigh says.
Paz barks a laugh. “True.”
“Well, maybe not here,” Hudson says. “But out in the regular world …” He frowns, then spots Brad across the pool. “I’m gonna go say hi to Brad,” he says to me, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before swimming away.
I frown. Did the conversation drive him off? I turn back to the three of them, who are staring at me, waiting for a reaction. I feel … angry? I shouldn’t, I know. They were just saying stuff, but it felt like they were fighting with him at the end. Or maybe he was fighting with them—or was about to?
“You sure this plan is going to work?” Ashleigh asks.
“Maybe if we don’t try to thrust gender theory on him on day two,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Sorry,” Paz says. “I know what the plan is, but I don’t know the rules.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Ashleigh says.
I sigh and lean against the side of the pool, slinking down. “He’ll come around. We just need to ease him into it. This was good. We gave him some ideas. Ease him into it.”
“Are you talking to us, or yourself?” George asks.
“Both?”
I look across the pool to the deep end, where Brad and Hudson are splashing each other.
“If it makes you feel better,” Paz says, “it’s all nonsense, right? Butch, femme, masc, whatever … it’s meaningless.”
“Not to him,” I say, watching Hudson.
THIRTEEN
George, Ashleigh, and Paz get out of the pool early when they spot Mark walking from the drama cabin back to the cabins up the stairs, clipboard in hand. I swim over to Hudson, and we spend the rest of the swim period splashing each other, the conversation that maybe upset him forgotten. We even kiss underwater one more time.
When the lifeguard blows the whistle, signaling the end of pool time, Hudson hoists himself out of the water next to me. We grab our towels and walk up the stairs to our cabins.
“So …,” he says. “Want to hang out after dinner? Before Joan’s class tonight?”
“Sure,” I say, smiling. Good. Everything is still going according to plan.
“Cool,” he says. “I’ll see you at dinner?”
“Yeah,” I say, grinning.
“Awesome,” he says. At the top of the stairs, he looks around quickly, then kisses me on the lips, pulling me tight against him by the waist. I feel my mouth start to open, dying to go further, to pull off my clammy swimsuit, to pull him close, but before I can even think about any of that, he pulls away. “I’ll meet you at your cabin. We can walk to dinner together.”
I know I’m still grinning like a moron as I walk into my cabin. The casting sheet is hanging where it always is, next to Mark’s room, and I see it before I see anything else. I even instinctively start walking toward it, wondering what I got, what my role is—maybe I’m Birdie!—before I remember I’m not on it, and turn away. George is stretched out on his bed, Paz and Ashleigh sitting on the end of it in what space he hasn’t taken over.
“So?” I ask.
“I have sad news,” George says, suddenly snapping open a bright pink fan and fanning himself with it. “Let them go first.” He leans back dramatically onto his pillows, still fanning himself. “I’ll need time to tell my tale of woe.”
“Okay,” I say, worried. He clearly didn’t get Kim. “So …” I turn to Ashleigh.
“I’m stage manager!” she practically squeals, a huge smile of delight opening across her face. Delight does not come often to Ashleigh’s face, and it looks uncertain on her, nervous. I wrap her in a hug, lifting her up from the bed and into the air. “I didn’t think I would. But Mark says he trusts me, and we’re talking the designs he wants to implement, and I might get to make some changes if I want, and I’m just so excited.”
“That’s amazing,” I say. “Congrats.”
“I’m going to boss all those cabin eight kids around so hard.”
I laugh. “I bet.” I turn to Paz. “And you got Rose?”
“Of course,” Paz says, brushing her shoulder. “Mark says we can even try to throw some Portuguese in, really bring some of my Afro-Brazilian-American Girl Magic to the role.”
“But …,” I say, turning back to George. “No Kim?”
“No,” George says, still fanning himself, pouting. “He went with Montgomery, though I think casting the tall redhead is a little OBVIOUS.” He shouts the last word in the direction of Mark’s closed door. “I’m Harry. The dad.”
I sit down next to George in what little room is left and lay my hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s an excuse for people to call you Daddy?” I ask.
He frowns. “You’re the third person to make that joke,” he says, his eyes darting to Ashleigh and Paz. “It didn’t make me feel better the first or second time, either.”
“It’s not a bad role,” I say. “Lots of comedy. Two songs.”
“I know, I know.” George sighs. “I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s a nice part. Just … not the part I wanted.”
“You can complain to us. We’re your friends,” I say. “That’s what we’re for.”
“I just … wanted to be the ingenue, you know? Here is the only place I even have a chance at playing that, and I know I’m … this big hairy guy now. I knew it was a long shot. I just wanted to try it this year, because I feel like I’ll never have the chance again. I wanted to try it. To play with that—get to bat my eyelashes and do the big innocent eyes for laughs. I think I’d be good at that.”
“You would be amazing at it. And you’ll get a shot, I promise,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “When we’re in college, in the summer, we’ll create a touring theater company, and you can be any ingenue you want. Sandy in Grease? Cinderella?”
“Promise?” he asks. “You’re still going to be doing theater even if your butch boyfriend doesn’t approve?”
“He’ll approve,” I say. “And yes, I promise.”
George stops fanning himself, and I realize he’d been drying his eyes, fanning them to keep them from getting too teary.
“Hug?” I ask. He nods, and sits up and hugs me. After a moment, Ashleigh wraps her arms around us, too. And then Paz, which is new, but okay. Then Jen from across the bunk, and Caroline, and everyone else—a big group hug around George. I laugh.
“Okay, darlings, stop it,” George says, pushing us off and snapping open his fan again. “I’m fine. And we are all going to be amazing in this show. Especially you, Montgomery,” George says, pointing his fan. Everyone smiles and returns to their beds. I sit across from George, Ashleigh’s feet dangling down in front of me.
“So what’s the rest of the cast? Who got Birdie?”