"Yes?"
"I- I um- well, you- I-"
"Listen, kid, the campers' cabins are on the other side." He points behind him. "Now, move, yeah?"
"That isn't it!"
"Then what is it?" He still has that same bored tone.
Finally, the words I've been meaning to say spi...
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"All right!" Summer calls, trying to hide her smile. "Who wrote this?"
A few kids made way toward Summer as she feigns deep frustration and a huge frown. One of the kids leans forward, the birthday girl.
"It says, Happy Birthday Maggie." Then she frowns and looks up at Summer. "Hey, that's my name."
"Happy birthday, Mag—WOAH!" Summer stumbles when Maggie pounces on her.
"Thank you! Thank you! You're the best, Miss Summer!"
Summer gives Maggie a little pout as if it's a way to go aw. Which she totally would do if the kids weren't around. She has this thing about acting all "adult" with them even though she acts like anything but an adult.
I tell the kids that there are cupcakes on the corner table and to only grab one as I make way to stand next to Summer.
Bumping my hip with hers, I bring my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side.
"That was really cool of you to do that for Maggie, Sum."
She shrugs, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Her brother died last year and her parents are a mess. They didn't want to come get her today to celebrate."
"How do you know that?"
"She did."
"Maggie?"
Summer hums a yes.
"Shit." I grimace. "I didn't have a real birthday until I was eighteen."
She looks up at me, tilting her head curiously. "How old are you? 'Cause I don't know how I feel about l—being friends with a thirty year old."
"I turned twenty-one in March. March twelfth." I laugh, furrowing my brows at her question. "How old are you, thirteen?"
She narrows her eyes at me. I know exactly how it sounds, I just like the way she pronounces numbers. She talks with her teeth and the timbre of her voice is always gentle, like she's worried talking too loud will hurt someone.
"That would suggest that you're friends with a thirteen year old, Noah. Doesn't sound too good."
"Seriously." I say. "How old?"
"Nineteen... nextweek."
I push off of the table and move to stand in front of her, gaping. She has a small, guilty smile on her face, her eyes on her strapped sandals and my old sneakers.
"Summer! Next week is the last week before everyone goes home!"
She rolls her eyes playfully. "And?"
I narrow my eyes at her. She didn't tell me on purpose. Something told her that I would make a big deal out of it. Whatever it was, it was absolutely right.
