“Jordan,” George says, nodding across the cabin, at Jordan, who’s talking to Jen. “Non-binary Birdie. Mark says we’ll be using ‘they’ pronouns for Birdie and that Birdie will be a ‘Ziggy Stardust type pansexual genderfluid object of lust.’”
“That’s pretty cool,” I say.
“Jen got Albert. That new guy, Lyle, got Hugo. Mattie got Mae, though honestly, I was sort of hoping Mark would do that role as Diana. But Mattie will be good.”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “That’s a great cast.”
“It would be better if you were in it,” George says. “I bet you would have gotten Mae if you’d tried out, and we could sing ‘Kids’ together.”
I smile, imagining it for a minute: George and I onstage, maybe George in suspenders and a cardigan, me in a fur-collared coat, back to back, complaining about the youths today. It would be fun—George and I haven’t gotten to play together much onstage. Domina didn’t interact with Hysterium much in Funny Thing, and before that we were both in the chorus. We play in exercises, of course, but never onstage. And we’d be so good together.
I feel a lump in my stomach sort of like nausea and also getting punched. I wish I were in this show. I wish I were onstage, singing my heart out with George. I want it so badly that I almost want to rush up to Hudson and tell him the truth now so I can have him and the show this summer. But that’s not the plan, and the plan is in place because it’s what will work. Telling Hudson I’m a crazy stalker before the week is up probably won’t.
Mark’s door opens and he steps into the cabin. “Everyone feeling okay about the casting now?” he asks. His eyes linger on George. Everyone nods. “I was sad not to write your name on that cast list, Del,” he says to me. “But I was on the phone with my therapist for an hour last night, and he says I have to let other people make their own mistakes. I mean, decisions.”
“Sure,” I say, trying to smile, but I can’t. Maybe it was a mistake. “It’s fine.”
Mark looks at me a moment, pursing his lips, before looking up at the whole cabin. “We only have a few weeks to do this, people, and you know your parts, so start learning your lines, your notes, your dance moves. I expect you to come by after dinner to rehearse, too, and use all your free time to make this the show I know it can be. Everyone excited?”
Everyone shouts yes, in unison.
“I better shower off this chlorine,” I say, and go to the bathroom to wash while they talk about the show. I can hear laughing and a little singing as I rinse my face. I try to wash away the regret, too. I knew this would happen, I should have prepared myself. It’s really hitting me—I’m not in the show this summer. And I’m going to miss it. But this was part of the plan. This is to get Hudson. This has got to be worth it.
I dry off and get dressed, and by then, Mark has put on the album of Bye Bye Birdie and the overture is playing loudly, my bunkmates singing snatches of lyrics that go with the melodies as they pop up. Some of them dance. They’re all so happy. And I’m happy for them. Just a little sad for myself.
“Um, hi?” I look over at the front screen door to see Hudson walking in. He stares at the cabin filled with campers singing and dancing, and his expression is so confused and cute, but then he spots me and he breaks into a big smile and never mind, I think. It’s all worth it. And I know that sounds so dumb, but then he reaches out his hand and I wave good-bye to everyone like we’re not all about to walk to the same place, and Hudson and I walk down the stairs together, just holding hands, like we’ve been gone for so long when it was maybe half an hour and yet in that half an hour, he missed me. He missed ME. He might finally start to feel about me the way I’ve felt about him for four years and who cares if I can’t be in the show one summer just for that.
“So, your cabin is crazy,” he says as we walk.
A swarm of tiny bugs flies by and I laugh and dodge them. “I know, they’re great.”
“Are you going to be able to sleep? Will they let you?”
“Of course, they have to rest their voices. And Mark is strict about them getting enough sleep.”
He laughs. “Okay, so I guess you don’t want to sneak into my cabin for some shut-eye, then?”
I feel a spark jolt through me at the suggestion. “I don’t think we’d get much sleep that way.”
He laughs again as we go into the dining hall. “We can sit with my friends tonight, right? They’re mostly from the obstacle course.”
“Sure,” I say. “We can all sit together, maybe. I know Brad would probably appreciate sitting next to George again.”
He rolls his eyes. “I still don’t get that, but yeah, okay.”
We find a seat with his friends and when George and Ashleigh come in, they sit next to me, blending our groups together—at least spatially. Brad and I are the only two who really talk to the theater kids and the jocks. No, that’s wrong. I’m a theater kid, and Hudson talks to me, so it’s only Hudson and Brad. Or I guess it’s me? I guess it depends who’s asking. But I try to talk to Hudson’s friends, too. There’s the one named Drew who I think might be his ex, but spotted me on the wire, and Sam, the girl who chased him with me during capture the flag. They seem cool. They talk about sports that I don’t pay attention to, and training routines, which I can talk about but find boring. They’re nice. I can hold a conversation with them. Hudson seems to like them, and he wants me to like them, so I try. And it’s fine. But it’s not like talking to George and Ashleigh. But why would it be? They’ve been my friends for years. It’s easy with them. It’s normal for it to be harder with new people.
Besides, they don’t need to be my best friends, I remind myself. Just friendly. And we are. So it’s fine, and by the time dinner is over, Hudson seems happy. We’ve blended our groups enough that Hudson and I can sit, thighs pressed together, and still talk to our friends. Which I think is all he wanted.
After dinner, my friends go off to the drama cabin to rehearse some more, and Hudson takes me by the hand and leads me to the boathouse porch. We’re the first ones there, and no one else tries to follow us in, though we can hear people walking by below us. The porch has a love seat that faces the water but is out of sight from anyone walking by because of how far back it is, and we sit down there, holding hands.
“So,” I say after listening to the water for a while. “About that ‘couple’ thing I said during pool time …”
“Don’t worry about it, babe,” he says, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I mean, between last night, and the obstacle course, and capture the flag, and two dinners, and all the time in the pool … this must be like date five by now. Totally normal to call us a couple.”
“Oh?” I ask. “You saying you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Maybe,” he says, lifting his head and grinning at me. He kisses me softly on the lips. “What benefits would I get as your boyfriend?” He kisses me again, deeper, our tongues coming out, his hands around my waist, pulling me on top of him.
He must do this every summer, he’s so good at it. Five dates in one day, making out, me already crouching over his lap.