“First off, sweetie, your hands should be farther down, like so.” I show her. “And then don’t try to move the fan with your arm. Think of it as throwing one side of it.” I snap open the fan, put it in front of my nose and mouth, and flutter it alluringly while batting my eyelashes at her. That feels so good. I’ve missed that. “Now you try.”
She tries again, getting the fan all the way open, but without the satisfying clacking noise a good, dramatic fan opening has.
“Better!” George says. “Don’t worry, darling. I wasn’t very good at it at first, either, but I knew I had to be able to do this for all my dramatic moments,” he says, snapping his fan open, widening his eyes and fanning himself. “Randy taught me.”
“You’re still using your arm too much,” I say. “It’s in the wrist. Here, can I hold your arm?”
“Sure.”
I hold her forearm steady so she can’t move it. “Now try—just your wrist.”
She tries moving her arm but can’t, and the fan barely opens. I close it for her. She tries again, this time just with her wrist, and it flies open with a clatter.
“YES!” George says. “Now flutter and say something dramatic!”
I let go of Paz’s arm and she makes her eyes huge, fanning herself. “I hope it’s pizza for dinner tomorrow!” she announces in a voice so booming, Jordan looks over, raises their eyebrows, and says, “Yeah … wish it into the universe,” nervously.
“A-plus delivery,” George declares, “but we need to work on your content.”
“I’m not an improv person,” Paz says, defensive. “But no, I know that was bad.”
“The fan was good, though!” I say. “Try again?”
She opens the fan again with an even faster snap, and says loudly, “I AM your mother!”
“Better,” George says.
“Oh … you’re doing a bit,” Jordan says from their bed. “You should have said.”
“I think you have the snap down,” I say.
“Me too. Thanks, Randy. Del. Sorry.”
“I’ll answer to anything,” I say, winking. “But I gotta brush my teeth,” I add, noticing Mark staring at me and tapping his watch. I laugh as I grab my toothbrush and get ready for bed, managing to sit down just as Mark turns the lights off. It’s been the perfect day. And as I go to sleep that night, I only feel a little guilty that Hudson has told me his truth and I haven’t told him mine.
The next day we’re back on our regular schedule and in Outdoor Adventure, and Connie has us practicing the Peanut Butter Pit. I actually manage to get across once, though only after a few tries. But I’m getting better. I can almost always at least grab the rope. Sometimes I grab it too low, and I need to get more momentum, but I tell myself I might need this one day—there are plenty of shows with swinging: Peter Pan, some versions of Candide. True, they have the rope waiting for them, but leaping isn’t so bad.
When we’re done, Hudson comes over to me and puts his hand around my waist, kissing me on the cheek even though I’m pouring sweat.
“So, babe, I was thinking,” he says softly. “Maybe tonight, after curfew, you and I could come back here …”
“Oh?” I say.
“Del.” Connie comes over and Hudson immediately goes quiet. “I want to talk to you for a second.” She looks at Hudson. “Alone. You’ll see him later, I’m sure.”
“Later,” Hudson says, giving me another kiss on the cheek before heading toward the pool.
I look up at Connie nervously. Why does she want to talk to me? “Am I in trouble?”
Connie smirks. “No. Come on, let’s go somewhere quiet.”
I follow her away from the obstacle course a little farther into the woods. When the sounds of the camp have faded slightly, she stops and turns to me.
“I’ve been really impressed with you this summer, Del.”
“Oh. Thank you.” What is happening?
“I’m not going to say I understand your makeover, or what your intentions were with it. I’ve heard things, but honestly, your life is your life, and your choices are your choices. But, because of those choices, this is the first summer I’ve spent real time with you, and I think you’re a leader.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I repeat. Still no clue what’s happening.
“You put in the work on the obstacle course. You help the others learn the parts of it they don’t understand. You’re encouraging, positive, helpful.” She pauses and I’m waiting for her to say, “But you’re not fooling anybody, go back to theater,” or something. Instead, she says, “I think you’d make a great captain for the color wars.”
“What?” Can you have no feeling in your body? Is that a thing? All your nerve endings shut down as you reboot with new information? ’Cause that’s what’s happening.
“The teams this year are Blue and Red. I think you’d be a great Blue team captain. We start on Friday. You’d have to spend some free time planning stuff—before dinner, usually. But your job would be to organize your team, decide which cabins are participating in which games, and generally be a cheerleader for everyone. Encourage them. Show them what a proud queer person can do. You up for that?”
“I …” Me. A color war captain. My body has rebooted and feelings come flooding in. Pride and shock and the realization that maybe, in some way, I’ve become Hudson. I can be to people what he was to me—outside of the sexy stuff, of course. I could make other queer kids feel like they can do anything. Like they can be the best versions of themselves, or at least find the best versions of themselves here at camp, and then go back to the world outside and unleash them. That’s what Hudson always wants us to do.
I feel stars inside me exploding, making new stars. “You really want me?” I ask.
Connie nods.
“I’m honored. Thank you so much. Not just for this.” I clutch my hands to my chest. “But for all you’ve taught me, that helped me become this. And of course, I need to thank Hudson, and my parents, and my friends George and Ashleigh, and even Mark, who gave me a hard time about this, but has always been an inspiration to me. I feel—”
“Okay,” Connie interrupts flatly. “This isn’t accepting a Tony. You want to be captain?”
“Yes!”
“Great. You and your other team captains and I will meet after pool time in cabin four, up the hill.” I nod. Cabin four is one of the empty ones, and each team on color wars has four captains. “Don’t let anyone see you, if you can help it. And no telling anyone. It has to be a surprise when we all come out.”
I nod, waiting for more.
“That’s it. See you then. Go to your next activity.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Thank you again. It means so much to me that you would—”
“Del. Go.”
I nod again and walk away. My heart is so light, it might fly out of my chest like a butterfly. I might join it. Maybe this whole summer wasn’t just for Hudson. Maybe it was for Del, too. For the people Del can inspire. Del is a leader. Del is someone people look up to. A Stella Adler, but, like, for sports or something. Randy was never any of that. And it feels amazing to know I could be, well, like Hudson. That I could be up on a platform, and the people staring at me could feel inspired somehow. Could feel like they could do anything, just because of something I said. I bet I could use it for theater stuff, too. It’ll give me gravitas. I could take on some serious roles—Death of a Salesman, starring Randy Kapplehoff! Glengarry Glen Ross! That would be something different for me. I always I assumed I’d end up in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? someday, though.