Camp Sutton

CHAPTER SIX: Polynesia

That first week blurred by as everyone remembered the routine of running a summer camp, each of us a moving piece all trying to fit inside one machine.

Olive and I continued to steal moments together, though with more discretion, and the days passed in a whirlwind of activities, laughter, and the occasional campfire under the starry night sky.

As the days turned into the second week and then the third, the girls in my cabin settled into their camp routines. Friendships were forged, conflicts arose and were resolved, and I reveled in watching them grow and learn. I realized that despite the challenges and the occasional disagreements with my fellow counselors, this was where I was meant to be.

Olive had taken to trailing nearby my campers, never too far away under the facade of cleaning floors, fixing cabinets, or restocking shelves. I tried hard not to look at her too much and, when we spoke in earshot of the girls, we both did our best to keep things casual and friendly. Of course, they were 8-10, and that meant they had an incredible sixth sense for sniffing out crushes.

One sunny afternoon, as I led my cabin through an arts and crafts session alongside another counselor, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of Ava, Lucy, Ellie, Maya, Brooklyn, Gracie, Claire, and Mia working together, their faces lit with creativity and enthusiasm. We were working on our cabin's part of the yearly mosaic, which everyone put together with rocks they painted, sea glass they found, and the tiles Camp Sutton could provide.

As I helped Ava choose between different shades of blue for her latest rock, she looked up at me with the discerning, piercing eyes only a child could muster. Every summer, I had to remind myself how much kids saw that adults didn't. She asked, loud enough for everybody including Olive to hear, "Miss Maisie, do you like Miss Olive?"

I swallowed and handed her a bottle of light blue. "I like everyone who works here. Now how about something a little paler for the sky?"

"No, no," Ava said pointedly, taking the paint and pouring some onto her paper plate. The other girls had tuned in now, too. She pressed, "Do you like her the way Mia's moms like each other?

Ellie chimed in as she dug through the bin of safely sanded tiles to find the perfect one for her section, "My mom told me that it's okay for girls to like girls the way they like boys, too."

"Well, that's true," I said. "Anyone can like anybody. As long as they're nice to each other and respect each other, that's what matters, right?"

A few of them echoed 'right' and 'duh' like that hadn't been a radical idea when I was their age just over a decade ago. Ava poked me with the end of her paintbrush and insisted, "So? I mean, Miss Olive's pretty, don't you think?"

"She's very pretty," I agreed as Olive snickered at my discomfort.

"And you're pretty, too," she said pointedly, explaining like she was talking to an idiot instead of an adult. "And you're both nice and you both respect each other."

Maya joined in now. "Are you girlfriends?"

My cheeks flamed red. "Miss Olive and I are definitely very good friends."

"That means yes," Lucy said from her station. "My dad said that him and Diane from work were 'very good friends' all the way until they got married."

I fumbled for my words. "But I'm also very good friends with Miss Jackie, too, and the other counselors."

Lucy said, "That's called Polynesia; my mom said."

Olive and I both stifled laughs, exchanging amused glances. Kids were so weird and so funny and so confident. I told her, "Polynesia is a bunch of islands near Australia."

And that put the topic to bed as choruses of 'there are more islands besides Australia and Hawaii' and 'yeah, dummy' and 'there's like a billion' took over the room. I let their conversation drift away, hoping they'd forget about it or at least let it stay in the past. If too many nine-year-old girls caught wind of a summer romance, it would be a nightmare to disprove. Sure, the other adults would believe us -- after all, I wasn't even out at camp (not that I 'wasn't out' like I was keeping it a secret, just that we didn't talk about it) -- but have you ever dealt with fifty preteens teasing you and whispering about you and singing songs at you? It's nearly as bad as it was back when I was a preteen myself.

After Arts & Crafts, I carefully set our mosaic out to dry in the warm afternoon sun alongside the other creations, making sure each painted rock and sea glass shard was perfectly aligned before it would start to harden. The girls, their hands still stained with a kaleidoscope of colors, diligently cleaned up their hands and then the supplies, chatting and laughing as they shared stories from their respective homes.

As I stepped away from the drying table, a wall separating me from the girls, the back door of the arts and crafts cabin swung open and closed behind me, and Olive's teasing voice rang out, playful and mischievous.

"You like me," Olive said, drawing out each syllable with a sly grin that danced all the way up to her eyes. "You've got a big fat crush on me."

I turned around, my heart racing as I scanned the surroundings to ensure no curious campers were watching. With a quick, furtive glance, I confirmed we were alone and then playfully pushed Olive against the exposed wooden wall. I retorted, a glint in my eye, "What are you gonna do about it, punk?"

"Absolutely nothing," she replied in a sing-songy voice, her tone full of unspoken promises.

Then our lips met in a passionate, stolen moment, one of a hundred stolen moments. I wished we didn't have to steal them, but the theft also made them more delicious. Her fingers found the back pocket of my jeans, and my hand gently cradled her cheek.

Before we could even begin to pull apart, Jackie's unmistakable gasp shattered behind us. I broke the kiss, my heart pounding in my chest, and turned to see Jackie standing there, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of shock and anger. My stomach sank. My mind raced at the possibilities. Visions of her immediately running to Mary, slapping Olive in the face, or even worse flashed around my eyelids.

Her voice was carefully, calculatingly hushed, but it shook with a rage that I'd never seen on her sweet features before. "What the fuck are you two doing?"

I stammered, trying to find an explanation that would make sense, "Jesus, Jacks, why are you so mad anyway? It's not like-"

"Why am I so mad?" Jackie's voice trembled with emotion, her face still crimson. "This is totally, completely against the rules."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, a reflexive reaction to Jackie's sudden righteous anger like she hadn't tried to fuck one of the maintenance interns a few years ago. I spit back, "So was playing 'spin the bottle,' but you still tried to convince me to do that every fucking year."

"Because I wanted to kiss you, dumbass!" Her voice grew softer but more desperate. "You think I'm oblivious, but look at you! Christ."

With those words, Jackie turned and stormed off, leaving Olive and me slack-jawed and speechless, our eyes locked in a moment of shared astonishment. In that singular instant, it all clicked into place. Jackie's dislike of Olive wasn't rooted in disapproval of our secret relationship; it was something deeper, more personal. And the revelation hit me as hard as the waves crashing on rocks during a storm.

Jackie didn't like Olive because Jackie did like me, possibly for years, maybe just during the summers. A complex tangle of emotions, secrets, and unspoken desires now lay before us, and I could only come up with two words as the dinner bell rang and the girls called out for Miss Maisie to bring them up to the main hall.

"Well, shit."

CHAPTER SEVEN: On the Rocks

Jackie didn't sit with me at dinner. She didn't even meet my eyes. She didn't offer to walk our groups back toward our adjoining cabins. She didn't ask to brush our teeth at the same time. She didn't pop her head in to say goodnight.

Around midnight, staring over at the bunk beds where the girls were all sleeping soundly from my single bed by the door, my brain was finally putting together the pieces. I couldn't stop chastising myself. Bright green overalls, Maisie? You didn't clock that as queer? Really? All those bandanas? Her playlist full of Joan Jett and Robyn and Tracy Chapman? Her goddamn tattoo for "Portrait of a Lady on Fire"? Come on, Maisie, you gaydar is better than this. She always wore Birkenstocks, for God's sake.

In hindsight, it was stupidly obvious. She'd always hung around me more than the other girls, always insisted on including me, never commented on my appearance either positively or negatively, always riding that neutral line to keep my suspicions down. She wasn't a gossip; I was just on her mind, so she talked about me with others. It reeked of unrequited pining.

Quietly, I got out of bed, grabbed my keys, slipped on my sneakers, and left the small cabin. The girls would assume I was just going to the bathroom since I was the only person allowed to do that at night without a buddy. I walked over to Jackie's cabin next door, peering through the screen. She wasn't in her bed, either.

If I knew Jackie -- and I did -- then she was off crying on the rocks. I'd told her a thousand times how dangerous that was at night, how easily she could slip and crack her head open, but she always felt soothed by the repetitive crashing of waves.

My legs bare except for soft sleeping shorts and my arms cold in my tee, I jogged down to the maintenance cabins and knocked softly on Olive's door. A minute later, she emerged, sleep in her eyes, wearing only an oversized tee. Through a yawn, she asked, "What's up?"

"Can you watch Jackie's and my cabins for a little bit?"

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, no, but yeah." I sighed. "It shouldn't take too long."

"No problem. I hate sleeping anyway."

I rolled my eyes, kissed her on the cheek, and headed in the other direction, back toward the lake. It was an uphill hike to get to the rocky part of the shore. As I made my way up the moonlit path towards the rocky shore, my thoughts were in turmoil. Jackie's revelation had caught me completely off guard. I had been so preoccupied with my own feelings for Olive that I hadn't considered the possibility that Jackie might have felt the same way about me. And the years before now, I guess I'd just written her off because she always had crushes on boys. But, you know, bisexual people exist. Duh.

I shook my head to try clearing my thoughts. The night air was cool against my skin, and I could hear the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks. I quickened my pace, my sneakers crunching on the gravel path. The camp was bathed in a serene silence, with only the occasional chirp of a nocturnal creature breaking the stillness.

When I reached the rocky shore, I scanned the area, my eyes adjusting to the dim, pure white moonlight. Out here, the night could get half as bright as the day if you let your eyes adjust long enough. The stars were bright and inviting, the Milky Way visible after only a few minutes of my eyes getting used to it.

There, sitting on a large boulder at the water's edge, was Jackie. It calmed me a bit to see that she'd brought a lantern with her. It was dim now to make way for the stars, but it illuminated enough to see a bit of color and to help make out her silhouette. Her shoulders were hunched, and she stared out at the dark expanse of the lake. She looked small and vulnerable, a far cry from her usual confident and assertive self.

I approached her cautiously, not wanting to startle her even though the logical part of my brain knew she would've heard my footsteps halfway up the trail. "Jackie," I called out softly, "are you okay? Can I come over?"

After a few moments of stubborn silence, she called back, "Yeah. Of course."

I hiked up the distance between us, watching my feet. When I reached her, I sat down, and we both watched the moon playing with the ocean for a tiny eternity. When we got into fights, I usually let her break the silence because she was usually the one with bigger feelings, with more hurt, with something to say. I realized I'd been emotionally stunted when it came to her, shoving her in a box labeled 'people from my past' instead of filing her alongside my college friends -- and, now, Olive. She sniffled and her body began to shake. This time, it was my turn to break the silence.

"I'm so sorry I made you feel like this," I said into the cool soft darkness. I knelt down in front of her and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "Jacks, I'm just an idiot. I had no idea. I wouldn't have-"

"Wouldn't have what, Maisie?" The cold look she gave me through those red-rimmed eyes cut deep. "You'd still be making out with Olive all over camp if you'd known I liked you."

I shook my head. "Not if you'd told me before now."

"Don't talk down to me," she said, but it didn't have any bite. "You'd never go for me and we both know it."

I dropped my voice to the quietest whisper I could manage. "You're kidding, right? First of all, just knowing you're queer would've meant we hooked up years ago because it's pretty hard to get laid as a camp counselor." When she offered a charitable, sniffling laugh, I continued, "Second of all, more importantly, you're a knockout. Like, you're really pretty. And you're sweet even when you're not trying to be."

She stopped crying then and her eyes searched mine. Her face had never looked more beautiful than it did then, shining under the moon, full of years of emotion, softened and blushed by her feelings. Then, as I examined her features, a sly little smile crept onto her lips. "You're thinking about kissing me, aren't you?"

I shoved her lightly on the shoulder. "In your dreams, Jacks."

We helped each other up and walked back to the cabins, where Olive was sitting outside on a nearby bench, paging through her latest book. She gave each of us a semi-knowing nod before returning to her own place for the rest of the night.

I wrapped Jackie in a hug and whispered into her ear, "Get some rest. We'll figure this shit out."

CHAPTER EIGHT: Fire Lookout

We didn't get another chance for a meaningful conversation -- any of the three of us -- for a few more sunrises and sunsets, until it was the last day of that first cycle of campers. After a long Thursday morning of helping them pack up their bags and load into SUVs and minivans, the afternoon was ours before the next crop of girls -- this time 11-13, much more complicated -- would arrive tomorrow morning.

Olive caught my hand as I walked toward my cabin to finish cleaning up. "Hey, stranger."

I looked around and replied, "Hi. It's good to see you."

"Come on, Maisie." Her fingers trailed down my arm. "You've been like a fucking ghost ever since that thing with Jackie."

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest, knowing she was right. "I'm sorry. It's just- I don't know. I actually, really don't know. Still just processing, I guess."

She snorted. "I can think of more fun ways to process Jackie's gay feelings for you."

I stared at her. My eyes got wide. "You mean like- You think I should-?"

"I mean, why not?" Olive shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Name any lesbian who hasn't hooked up with half of their friends. Might be good to just, I don't know, get it out of her system so she realizes she doesn't actually like you."

My brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Jackie interrupted us then, having hopped out of her own cabin at the sound of us talking so close by. I knew she wouldn't have been able to make out the words, but she'd known it was the two of us. She wore a pair of bike shorts and a sports bra. It was almost July now; most of us dressed in as little as we could get away with. Today, that meant lots of cropped tees and tiny shorts, the clothes we could only wear when the campers were away.

She didn't meet either of our eyes but got up the courage to ask, "Can we all talk somewhere private?"

I replied, "Not a ton of private places around here."

"You two have managed to find some," she retorted, but her tone wasn't mean or judgmental, just curious. Probing. "Why don't we go up to one of the lookouts? It's cooler in the forest anyway."

So we hiked. The three of us stayed quiet as we headed halfway up the sloping mountain -- you could charitably call it that -- through the trees. We didn't need to talk. The hike to the old fire lookout was a gradual ascent through the thick forest. As we made our way up, the trail became steeper, and the air grew cooler with each step. The canopy of towering trees provided a natural shade, allowing dappled sunlight to filter through the leaves.

Olive took the lead, her steps sure and deliberate, as if she had climbed this path a hundred times before even though she had the least experience in this particular region of forest. Behind her, I followed, occasionally reaching out to steady myself against the rough bark of tree trunks. Jackie brought up the rear, footsteps hesitant, eyes mostly fixed on the ground. The hike was a meditative experience, the only sounds rustling leaves underfoot and distant chirping birds. The forest was alive with the scent of pine and damp earth and sea air.

Finally, we reached the old fire lookout, a concrete platform perched atop a rocky outcrop. It offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the surrounding wilderness. We were high enough to see the islands that dotted the harbor in their green brilliance. It would be a perfect day for whale watching down in the harbor or spotting seals further north.

Olive gracefully climbed up the ladder to the platform, her movements filled with quiet confidence. I followed suit, my hands gripping the wooden railing as I took in the awe-inspiring vista. The world seemed vast and untouched from this vantage point. Jackie joined us, her cautious steps finally giving way to the realization of the stunning view before her. She moved to the edge of the platform, her eyes widening as she took in the sweeping landscape. We'd seen it countless times, but the view from these old fire lookouts never lost its nostalgic charm. It was always a favorite place to take older campers who had never seen a landscape so wide and so inviting.

For a moment, we simply stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. I looked between the two of them on either side of me, stark contrasts of one another. Then Olive broke our silence in a way I definitely wouldn't have.

"Jackie, have you ever been with a girl?"

As I gave her a half-glare-half-shocked look, Jackie somehow took it in stride. She admitted shyly, "No. I mean, I've kissed a few girls. A few first dates. But at school, it's just so much easier to hook up with guys, you know? And not as intimidating."

I turned to look at her. "Is that why you waited so long to tell me? Intimidation?"

"That and the usual reasons." She shrugged. "Didn't want to ruin our friendship, we had to work together still, all that stuff." Then Jackie went quiet, biting her lower lip. She was lost in thought for a minute, eyes scanning both the horizon and me. "But honestly, after thinking about it a while, it's not really you, Maisie. Like, no offense, I mean. You're amazing and beautiful and-"

"I understand," I interrupted. And I really did. "I mean, would it help if...?"

My voice trailed off into a question I was too scared to ask and she was too scared to answer, especially in front of Olive. Jackie's eyes pinballed over my face, trying to figure out if I was actually asking what she dared to think I might be asking. I watched her features carefully as they went from shocked to curious to shocked to something more secret, something she wasn't sure about yet.