Page 84 of Until Next Summer

“Tiebreaker,” Jessie says. “I volunteered us—so I hope you know your eggs.”

—

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in a chair, Jessie standing behind me, facing two players from the Red Team in the same position. A carton of eggs is on the table between us, and the entire camp community is gathered, watching.

“Before you are a dozen eggs,” Cooper says, projecting his voice for all to hear. “Eleven are hard-boiled. One is raw. You won’t know which is which until you smash it on your partner’s head.”

I cringe at the thought of wet, sticky yolk running through my hair.

“Take your first egg,” Cooper instructs, and I hold my breath. “On the count of three, crack it on your partner’s head.”

I wince, closing my eyes as Cooper counts to three and Jessie knocks the egg against my head. To my relief, nothing happens.

Our rivals also get a hard-boiled egg. Two down, ten to go.

The next round, two more hard-boiled ones. The crowd is getting restless.

“Round three!” Cooper yells. “First to get the raw egg loses, giving gold to the other team.”

Jessie reaches past me for an egg, changing her mind at the last minute and selecting another.

“One, two, three!” Cooper says, and I hold my breath.

The crowd erupts and I cringe with my whole body, folding myself away from Jessie. It takes a full ten seconds before I realize that I don’t feel anything dripping down my scalp.

I look up and see my opponent covered in egg.

“We won!” I shout, leaping from my chair. “We did it!”

Jessie and I hug before getting swept up by our overjoyed Blue Team. They’re chanting, “Blue gets gold!” over and over, and my eyes sting with happy tears.

It feels like I finally deserve to have Jessie’s friendship back. And I hope this won’t be the only victory in our future.

twenty-two

Jessie

During the sixth week of camp, the weather is perfect: blue skies, eighty-degree days, a light breeze drifting off the lake. The campers, in their seventies, have been a delight. The week’s big event is an art festival Hillary’s been working on, showcasing projects from the whole summer—and selling them to raise money for our plan to buy the camp property.

I start the day with my usual canoe paddle, listening to the original Broadway cast recording ofMoulin Rouge!with the one and only Aaron Tveit as Christian. When I get back to the dock, Luke is there in his swimsuit, the morning sun bathing his skin in golden light.

A jolt runs through me. Since that moment in the hammock, there’s a new energy between us. An awareness. Like we’re dancing around each other, but neither of us is willing to make the first move.

He reaches down and steadies the canoe as I climb out. “I see you’re taking your personal safety more seriously.”

He motions to the life jacket I’m wearing over my one-piece swimsuit and shorts. It’s unzipped, but at least I have it on.

“Yeah, because guess what?” I lean in like I’m telling him a secret. “A couple weeks ago, when I wasn’t wearing one, Ialmost drowned. Luckily, this really grumpy guy rescued me.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “A really grumpy guy, huh?”

“So grumpy. Haven’t seen him around lately, though.”

He cracks a tiny smile, which feels like a victory, and helps me lift the canoe and stow it next to the others. It takes all my strength not to stare at his bare torso, his muscles flexing under his tanned skin.

“What are you up to today?” he asks.

“We have the art show later on. You should come.”

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