Page 122 of Until Next Summer

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An hour or so later, I’m organizing the first aid supplies (another pointless task, but I need to stay busy or I’ll start crying again) when Hillary comes over the walkie-talkie and says I’m needed in the dining hall.

When I get there, I’m surprised to see Hillary, Cooper, Dot, Zac and Zoey, Mr. Billy, and Luke sitting at a table.

On the floor in front of them are two full backpacks.

“What’s this?” I ask. “Who’s going hiking?”

Hillary grins. “You are! You missed the overnight campout last week, and we know you were looking forward to it.”

I shake my head, confused. “I can’t. There’s too much to do today.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Cooper says, and Mr. Billy nods solemnly.

“You don’t have a choice,” Zac says with a smile, and Zoey adds, “We got your backpack loaded up and everything.”

Dot chimes in: “We knew you’d never agree to go unless we practically forced you.”

I cough out a disbelieving laugh. “But if both Dot and I leave—”

“Oh, I’m not going,” Dot says. “I’ll stay here and keep everyone on track.”

I’m confused; she’s the only other person who cares about this activity. “Who’s the other backpack for, then?”

“Uh, me,” Luke says, speaking for the first time. “If you’re okay with that.”

My heart fills with gratitude as I look at this dear groupof friends. Family. They’re not just giving me an opportunity to do the overnighter one last time. This is a chance to step away from the sadness of closing down the camp.

“Thank you,” I manage to say. “This is exactly what I need.”

Hillary beams. “We know.”

“Now get going,” Dot says. “You have six miles to cover before nightfall.”

Before I can pick up my backpack, Mr. Billy comes over. “You did good, Pippi,” he says to me, his voice gruff. “Real good. You should be proud—I know I am.”

A lump comes to my throat; I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him say so many words all at once. “Thank you for all your hard work over the years, Mr. Billy.”

He peers down at me from his full height, his expression grave. “It was an honor.”

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It usually takes a full day to reach the spot where we camp during the overnighter—young teenagers plus heavy packs equals a slow pace, countless snack breaks, and lots of whining. But Luke keeps up just fine, so even though we set out around three p.m., we’re on track to reach our destination with daylight left.

As we hike, he asks me what I’m always listening to on my canoe rides, and I tell him about my favorite musicals; turns out he’s seen a lot of them—most recentlyDear Evan Hansen. This leads to a spirited discussion about poor Evan. Luke insists he’s a “lying schmuck who deceived everyone he claims to care about” and I argue that he’s a confused teenager searching for meaning in a big, scary world.

Then we talk about what we were like as teenagers. Lukeclaims he was a “consummate geek,” and when I say that’s hard for me to believe, he says he started a Settlers of Catan club in high school (which isn’t too geeky, I tell him) and later wrote his college admissions essay about how Catan is a metaphor for life (okay, I agree: total geek move).

We talk about our families; Luke’s parents have been happily married for nearly forty years, and he has two younger sisters. In more recent years, he tells me, he was sharing an apartment with a friend, but then the friend’s boyfriend moved in, and Luke was in the way. At the start of the summer, he put all his belongings in a storage unit and came to camp.

I remember the time I asked him where he lived, and he said he lived here. I assumed he was joking—but no, he’s as untethered now as I am.

I ask where he’s going after this, and he says he’s heading to a cabin his family owns in Michigan. It’s booked all summer, but it’ll be empty in the fall. He’s planning to finish the draft of his book there. After it’s revised and turned in, he’ll look for a teaching job in New York state, where he’s licensed—a small town, hopefully.

“I realized this summer that the city was too crowded and hectic for me,” he says. “From there? I guess I’ll figure it out as I go along.”

His words bruise my already sore heart. I didn’t expect him to say anything about us, obviously. But I’m going to miss him. More than I should.

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