Thirty-Seven

thirty-seven

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen an actual drunk person, courtesy of never going to any of the student government parties Connie always invites us to, but I imagine that this is what it feels like: stumbling like the earth’s axis tilted, sneaking glances at the person next to you and giggling for no reason, stealing kisses every few steps just because you can. By the time Leo and I start meandering back to camp, I am distinctly aware that we are insufferable, but not aware enough to know if five minutes have passed or five hours.

“Want to make a pit stop?” Leo asks at one point, turning his head toward a clearing up ahead.

I nod, but mostly because he could ask me if I wanted to swim in a cage with an unfed shark right now and I’d probably do the same. I’m so wrapped up in us and this weird bubble of things we’re allowed to do—for some reason I’ve been touching his forearm constantly, like that’s a totally normal thing—that I don’t notice where he’s taking me until we’re directly in front of Make Out Rock.

And its current status is very much occupied.

“Oh shit,” I blurt first, without a shred of decorum.

Savvy’s ponytail is not even ponytail reminiscent anymore, and Mickey’s shirt is so askew that I can spot a temporary Flounder tattoo peeking out from the Ariel on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Mickey squeaks, spotting us first.

Savvy whips around, mouth open like she’s poised for damage control. Victoria’s rules about staff romance are probably something along the lines of “don’t.” When she sees it’s me, her eyes go wide.

“Well, look at you,” she says, and it occurs to me that my face must be every bit as red as it feels. That, or I’m being extremely unsubtle about my newfound talent of glomming on to Leo, which has manifested in my good arm roping around his torso and his around my shoulder.

“Excuse us,” says Leo, “we didn’t realize this spot was already, uh, taken.”

“That’s the glory of becoming an unrepentant summer camp cliché,” says Mickey, gesturing for us to take their place. “The ability to pass the torch to the next. Go on, my children.”

“Nah. I gotta get this one back to camp,” says Leo, his grip tightening on me. I sink into it, and Savvy catches my eye, the both of us looking a little delirious.

“And I need to get you both to camp before the head chef calls out a prelunch search party,” says Savvy, eyeing Mickey and Leo.

Mickey glances at her watch. “Oh, yeah, it’s five past We’re Definitely Getting Lectured o’clock,” she says, her eyebrows shooting into her hair. She turns to Savvy, lifting herself on her tiptoes to kiss her again. Savvy leans in, more shy than I might have expected, but Mickey ends the kiss by tugging the dangling hair tie from the remains of her ponytail and snapping it in the air.

“Thanks, babe,” she says, pulling it into her own hair and making a messy bun.

“Hey.”

Mickey arches up a little to mess up Savvy’s hair. “See you after lunch?”

“What color should I make the Gcal invite?”

“Too soon!” Mickey calls, already dragging Leo by the arm up the path. He stops long enough to kiss me, half mouth and half cheek, the gesture fast but the big sloppy smile on our faces lasting way longer than they probably should.

Savvy knocks her shoulder into mine. “So…”

I clear my throat, meeting her eye. “So.”

“I’m proud of us,” says Savvy.

“Yeah. We waited six full minutes after solving our parents’ drama to stick our tongues down Mickey’s and Leo’s throats.” Savvy doesn’t say anything right away, and there’s this twinge that sneaks its way through the bubble, a reminder of what’s beyond the thick of these trees and the morning haze. “If we solved our parents’ drama.”

Savvy slows her pace, watching Leo and Mickey and deliberately putting space between us and them. When I look over at her, there’s a lightness in her expression, a gleam in her eyes—I think of that first day we met, of Queen Quack and the brief hint of this girl I saw then that I am starting to see more of every day.

“We did a better job than you think.”

I smile back, mostly because I don’t know how to stop. “Yeah?” It’s a nice thought. One that I could spend an hour poking holes in, except I’m happy right now. Happy enough to hope. “Do you think they’ll ever … I don’t know … talk again?”

“Well, they’re going to have to talk logistics, at least,” she says matter-of-factly. Her words are all business, but her tone is light.

I peer at her. “You mean with us?”

“That,” says Savvy. “And, well—my dad called this morning.”

The grin on her face is brimming, threatening to burst. Before she even says anything I can feel it flowing through me—the feeling of knowing the magnitude of something without knowing the shape of it, of catching someone else’s joy before you even know why.

“He and my mom bought Bean Well.”

I don’t think she’s even fully finished the sentence before I let out the kind of squeal that would make Rufus howl, launching myself at her. The two of us hug each other so tightly that we almost add some broken ribs into the mix. We pull apart just as fast, just as breathlessly, like we need to look at each other to believe it. Our eyes meet and the moment stamps itself to my heart, taking up a permanent place in me before it’s over, and I hear Poppy’s voice in my head—If you learn to capture a feeling, it’ll always be louder than words.

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel one louder than this.