The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 34: Ronan

Dear Ronan,

Hey. It's Jesse again. Do you like the postcard? The Cyclone has always been my favorite ride at Coney Island. I wish you were here to ride it with me— last year was so much fun. It really sucks that you're stuck in Alaska for the summer. You're totally missing out.

In other news, not much has changed around here since you left. I've walked past your apartment a few times, but I never see Sabrina. I heard she's super busy working on some new project or something. (Does she ever write you? I seriously doubt it.) When I went inside to get the details from Fred, some random dude sitting behind the desk told me he'd been fired. Poor guy. He was always so chill. Every time I'd see him, he'd share some of his Bugles with me.

Anyways, I'm running out of space on this postcard, so I better skip to the important stuff. Something crazy happened last week. I wish I could write you about it, but I really need to tell you about in person. Is there any way you could call me? If you can't, that's okay— I understand. I can wait until you come from camp. Well, maybe. Keeping a secret this big might just kill me. Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration (or was it...?). Still, you're my best friend, so I want you to hear the news first.

I hope you still have that Superman comic. (Or at least have my number memorized by now.) My mom always says that if I write my phone number on a letter someone will read it and use it to steal my identity. I don't know how that would work, but better safe than sorry, right? So, I'm counting on you to shoot me a call. Or send me a carrier pigeon. You know what I mean.

Your friend,

Jesse

***

Tustumena Cabin is the first victim of the rain. The roof opens up with leaks after a night of non-stop downpour, forcing us to relocate Sharing Circle to the Arts and Crafts building, which is slightly less flooded. The air is clogged with so much humidity that walking feels more like swimming, and by the time we reach Eklunta, I'm more than ready to sell my soul for a dry seat and a cabin that doesn't reek of mildew. Fortunately, I don't have to sell my soul for anything (yet), and Sharing Circle begins relatively uneventfully.

Most of the campers have given up on arguing with the counselors by now— we've all been sufficiently beaten down, subdued to the point of reluctant compliance. I'm still not totally on-board with the whole "let's share our personal secrets in front of everyone" idea, but it's easier to tell the counselor a half-truth rather than a full-out lie. When Owen turns his attention on me, I manage to satisfy him with a few monotone sentences about my friends back home. Jesse's name comes up once or twice, but I don't say much about him— I have an irrational fear that bringing him into a place like Lightlake will contaminate my memory of him somehow; as if all our years of midnight Dairy Queen runs, grass-stained football games, and joint detentions will somehow be replaced by the sound of Owen asking, "Is there anything else you'd like to share?" and the feeling of the muscles in my eyelids pulsing beneath my skin. Thankfully, Owen doesn't try to delve too deeply into our friendship, so I'm able to keep Jesse to myself for one more day.

Once I'm done with my little soliloquy, the counselor moves on to the rest of the campers, forcing stories out of everyone. Emily begrudgingly shares the tale behind her parents' gritty divorce. Giselle talk in circles about a shitty boyfriend she had when she was sixteen. Matt describes, in vivid detail, the first high he got from smoking weed (Owen gives him a mark for "promoting drug abuse"). I zone out when Finn starts gushing about his frogs, but my attention returns when the counselor calls on James. I haven't spoken to James since the disastrous Capture the Flag game, so I'm curious to hear what he has to say.