The Names They Gave Us(70)
I try to say it with ferocity, but Anna laughs. “Oh my God. Is that the first time you’ve ever said that word?”
“No!” I scoff, offended. “Like, second or third. And she deserves it.”
“You know, she came to Daybreak the summer we were twelve, before I really started transitioning. We were good friends, but she had a crush on me. Which I didn’t reciprocate.” Anna’s face clouds over, moving from hurt to thoughtfulness. “She has a lot of problems. At home, I mean.”
I narrowly resist growling. “That’s not an excuse.”
“Yeah. I know.” She looks down at me. “Camp is generally, like, this bubble for me. Home is usually pretty okay these days. I just really hate this.”
“Do you want me to go back and mess her up?”
“Ha! Yeah, right. You’re totally a turn-the-other-cheek type. Or you’d, like, slap-fight her.”
“Hey! No way! Hair-puller. Ruthless.” I mime ripping at a big clump of my hair. “But which of us do you think would be the best in a fight?”
“Lucy Hansson, I’m surprised at you! We have a nonviolent philosophy here at Daybreak.”
I roll my eyes at her. “So, Mohan?”
“Oh, totally.” She squints, imagining it as she laughs. “He’s so quick and scrappy. He’d get it done.”
“Not Henry? He’s no joke with the punching bag, either. Or Keely?”
“Jones has too much honor.” She pronounces the word like she’s mocking it, even though I know she loves that about him too. “Mohan would fight dirty, which you’d need with Greer. And Keely’s the queen of shit-talking, but she’s not gonna throw a punch. Gentle, that one.”
“Oh my gosh. Wait. If we could send anyone from Daybreak to fight Greer, I totally know who I’d pick as tribute. She’d probably volunteer.”
“D’Souza!” We both say it at the same time and lean forward in laughter, almost knocking heads.
“Oh my gosh. I bet she’d be like a superhero, all choreography and business.”
“Wait, wait,” Anna says through her giggles. “I bet Rhea would be like Yoda. Like small and wrinkled but ready to defend everyone.”
I can’t get out words. I wave my hands in front of my eyes as if this will dry the laughter-tears that are forming. “ANNA. We’re not going to be able to look at her tomorrow.”
Anna can barely speak through laughing. “What if, at breakfast, she says to us: ‘Hungry, you are.’?”
“Stop,” I gasp out, wiping at my eyes with one hand.
“What if . . . oh my God. What if Bryan busted out, like, formal karate. Wearing one of his polo shirts.”
As the moon peeks through the windowpane, we imagine all of our co-counselors as opponents. My stomach muscles feel stretched out from laughter. My hand stays locked with Anna’s the whole time.
“Hey, Luce?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you say anything to Greer after I left?”
I tamp my lips together, hesitating. “I told her she’s mean. And wrong . . . and stupid.”
Anna busts up laughing again. “Wait. So you basically called Greer a meanie-head stupid-face? The third graders are rubbing off on you!”
My arm is propped up on the couch, and I lean my face into it, giggle fit taking me over again.
“You’re like a kitten trying out her tiny, little claws tonight.”
“Oh my gosh,” I howl, laughing at how ridiculous I am. We recover after a few seconds, but it feels so good to be okay. It’s tinged with relief, as we patch the first rift between us. Maybe we’ll even come out stronger.
“Hey, rock star.” Anna’s looking over my shoulder.
Henry leans against the door frame, straw hat gone and top buttons undone. We must look quite the scene—Anna flat across a couch with a fistful of tissues, me curled up on the floor beside her, our eyes glittering from laughing so hard.
“Hey.” In the Jones Encyclopedia of Smiles, this one is somewhere between “amused” and “relieved.” “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Anna says. “We’ll be fine.”
And you know what? We will.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next week, Henry shows up for our rec room evening with his trumpet and a sheaf of papers in hand.
“I have a favor to ask,” he says.
I spin on the piano bench, trying to look like someone who drives a hard bargain. “Oh, really?”
“My cousin Laura is getting married in two weeks and, of course, she just told me she wants me to play trumpet for the wedding. There’ll be a band the night of, but could you practice with me for it?”
“And what do I get in return?” I ask, smiling as I look up.
“Funny you should ask. Laura said I could bring a date. So . . . an evening with me? It comes with the condition of having to meet my crazy family.”
“Sold.” I take the music from his hands, and he kisses the top of my head.
I smile like a moron for the first few measures of “La vie en rose.”
We’re a few attempts in when the rest of the crew shows up, carrying snacks from the Bunker.
“Sounds good in here, music nerds,” Mohan says.