Jennie

I hoisted my overnight bag out of the trunk. With only two weeks left of summer, Dad had insisted I bring four books along for the week I'd be at camp, but he wasn't the one who had to carry them. Nayeon had no books—and somehow, more luggage than me, even though I'd tried to explain there'd be no occasion for a purse, let alone three.

Nayeon yanked her rolling suitcase from the car until it fell onto the street. "It's too early to be lifting heavy things."

"We'll be up almost this early every day of camp," I said.

"Are you serious? It's practically dark."

"It'll be good for you girls," Mom said. "I'm so glad you're doing this together. Who knows? Maybe Nayeon will find that she—" She stopped and craned her neck, looking across the parking lot. "Is that Lisa?"

"No," Nayeon said, but she couldn't hide her smile.

I followed Mom's gaze and took in a small breath. Lisa stood next to a black truck, a big, army-green duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the sleeves of her heather-gray hoodie pushed up to her elbows. Gary got out of the driver's seat. Together, they walked over to the curb where kids and adults were congregating.

"You told your father she wouldn't be here."

Nayeon shrugged. "Lisa must've changed her mind."

"Damn it, Nayeon. What am I supposed to do? Keep this from him?"

"It's not a big deal, but he'll make it into one."

They argued, and Lisa looked over. I finally exhaled as our eyes met. She said something to Gary, dropped her things on the ground, and walked toward us. Even the gray clouds cast overhead couldn't soften the angles of her face or the purpose in her gait. "That looks about twice your weight," Lisa said, reaching for my bag.

I readjusted it on my shoulder. "I've got it. Nayeon's the one who needs help."

"You're leaning so far to the right, I'm afraid you'll fall over." She gestured impatiently, so I transferred the bag over to her, and she put it under her arm.

"Don't you trust me?" Nayeon asked Mom.

"When have you ever given us reason to?" Mom replied.

"Excuse me," Lisa said.

They turned to her. "I'm sorry, Lisa," Mom said. "This might sound like it's about you, but it's really about—"

"It's fine, Mrs. Kim. I just wanted to say that I take this position seriously. There are kids around. I'll be on my best behavior. Also, we need all the counselors so we can start checking campers in."

"I appreciate that." Mom ran a hand over her hairline, smoothing some stray pieces back in place. "Nayeon'll be over in a moment. I just need to make a few things clear."

Lisa signaled toward the grass with her head. I followed her over, staying quiet so she wouldn't hear the giddiness in my voice. Not only had she not taken Nayeon's bag, but she was going to be on her best behavior. No hugging, no kissing, no time alone with Nayeon. I trusted her to keep her word, unlike Nayeon. Mom would make things clear, but her lectures were harmless. Nayeon knew, had known coming here, that Mom would never rat her out to Dad.

When the buses pulled up, Lisa raised her eyebrows. "They don't spare any expense, do they?"

They wheezed as they rocked up over the inclined driveway into the parking lot. They were luxury liners, the kinds of buses that were always too hot or too cold with fabric seats that made you wonder who'd sat in them before you. "What do you mean?"

"I thought we'd be going on a school bus or something."

"This is Orange County. Even camping can be made glamorous."

"Okay then." She looked down at me. "You're not afraid of getting dirty, are you?"

"No way. I'll be in the mud with the kids."

"That's my girl."

I almost shivered with satisfaction. Lisa's girl—I hoped someday I would be. In her presence, my body loosened. I'd been anxious about this trip. I'd seen Lisa four times in two weeks during the counselors training sessions, but between Nayeon, Gary, and everyone else, we hadn't had more than a couple minutes alone. Did she notice? Did she care? She never gave any sign that she did, but I'd caught her staring at me during a meeting once . . . I'd tried to convince myself the longing in her face was my imagination, or that she was looking at Nayeon, who'd been next to me, but I didn't really believe that. Some invisible tether existed between us. Nobody could see it, not even us, but I felt it. I was sure Lisa did, too. As long as we both knew it, that was enough for me. For now, at least.

Lisa got a clipboard from Gary and flipped through the pages. "You're paired with Alison Burke," she told me. "Do you know her?"

"She's new this year, but we talked a little at the meetings." I pointed to a short brunette in a polo shirt and knee-length shorts. Ali's brown hair brushed as far down as her elbows as she gathered our girls and fielded questions from their parents. "I better get to work."

"I'll come with you," Lisa said, tucking the clipboard under her arm and falling into step beside me.

"Why?"

"Make sure it's a good match."

"She seems pretty nice," I said, unsure what she was looking for.

She didn't respond.

Alison had one hand on a girl's head as she spoke to a parent. She glanced over as we approached and smiled. "There's Jennie now. She'll be my co-counselor for the week."

I recognized some girls who'd attended last year. They squealed, some jumping up and down and some running over to hug me. I had hoped to get this age group. Everyone knew the nine-year-old girls' cabin was easiest. They were old enough to know better and young enough that they still listened. Around age ten, one or two girls' priorities began to change. They'd talk back or sneak around, which the others in the cabin picked up on quickly. At sixteen, it wasn't as if I could really be in charge of twelve-year-olds like Nayeon could.

Katie, one of my girls from the year before, ran and hugged me, catapulting me backward into Lisa.

Lisa caught me by my upper arms. "Whoa there."

The warmth of her hands hit me first, then the firmness of her grip, her large body at my back. She was solid, her hold on me protective while I caught my footing and then for a couple seconds after. I could run at her full force, and I doubt she'd stumble when we collided.

As Alison pulled Katie away, I caught her wide-eyed glance at Lisa. I thought I noticed her blush before she turned around.

"I have to get back," Lisa said, releasing me. "Will you be all right with Alison?"

I looked up over my shoulder at her. "I'm pretty sure. Why?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay. She seems nice, though."

She was around Nayeon's age, but I'd found her easy to talk to so far. "She is."

"Okay, then. Just know you can come to me with anything you need, all right? Gary and I are cool."

"You like him?"

Lisa nodded. "I like him."

Coming from Lisa, that meant a lot. She didn't seem easy to please in the people department, but I'd introduced her to a new friend.

"So you'll come to me?" Lisa asked, tapping the clipboard against her palm. "If something's not right?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But we'll be away from home. From your parents. So you can come to me. Everyone should have someone looking out for them, and I am. For you."

"Who do you have?" I asked.

She swallowed audibly, her long neck rippling. "I said everyone should—not everyone does."

"I'll be that someone, Lisa," I said.

She put her large hand on my head, making me feel about half her size. "You're going to protect me?"

I always wanted her to be safe. Cared for, fed, happy. Maybe it was naïve, but I felt I could do that for her, even if it had to be from afar for a while. "Maybe not physically. Protection comes in different forms."

"That means a lot to me," she said. "I'd rather you worry about yourself, though. And I'll worry about you, too." She took her hand back, and some of my hair went with it, falling over my face. She started to fix it but stopped herself. "Don't worry about your stuff. I'll get it on the bus."

I watched her return to Gary's side. She had no reason to worry about me. To keep me safe or happy. I didn't owe her that either, but I'd do my best to give it to her.

Alison and I sat together on the way to Big Bear. I tried to listen to the conversation happening between Lisa and Nayeon across the aisle, but Nayeon, turned inward toward Lisa, did most of the talking and anyway, Alison had other ideas.

"Should we talk about how we're going to do this?" Alison asked.

"It's kind of hard to plan for." I leaned a little more into the aisle. Nayeon was listing her favorite music videos while Lisa stared straight ahead. "Once we get there," I said, "it'll fall into place."

"But it's my first year," Alison said. "I don't want to screw it up."

She'd soon discover the resilience of kids—and counselors. "You'll do fine."

"I graduated with your sister, you know," she said. "She doesn't know me."

I looked over at her. "She's self-involved."

Alison laughed. "She can probably hear you."

"Probably. But she won't." We exchanged a mischievous smile.

"Is that her girlfriend?" Alison asked. "She's so fine."

"No." I sounded defensive so I added, "I'm not really sure. Maybe for the moment."

Nayeon stood and looked around the bus before her eyes lasered in on something behind us. "There are two kids with seats to themselves. Shouldn't counselors get that?"

"I don't think they planned it that way," I said.

"I'm exhausted. I need to sleep before we get there." She went down the aisle to a boy with headphones on. "Hey." She pointed to the other lone camper. "Go sit with that kid so I can have this seat."

The boy, eleven or so, didn't argue. He would've argued with me, but Nayeon had boobs and some kind of power over the male species. Apparently, no age group was immune.

"Wake me when we get there," she said to Lisa, who remained facing forward through the whole thing. "Lisa. Did you hear me?"

"I heard you." She winked at Alison and me. "I'll do my best, but no promises."

We giggled. Nayeon must've gone to sleep, because she didn't speak again.

"So about our cabin," Alison said. "I think we should be firm with them. Yes, we're here to have fun, but we're authority figures first, friends second."

I watched Lisa as she looked out the window. Most riders who weren't talking to their seatmates had headphones on or played handheld videogames. "Sure," I murmured.

"I brought some stuff I think the girls'll love, like makeup and CDs."

I expected a week of rough-and-tumble sports and exploring, but I knew they'd love girl time as well. "We can sneak a boom box from the rec room," I said.

"And the campfire skits," Alison said. "We have to come up with some ideas. Should we do that now?"

"Better to brainstorm with the girls," I said absentmindedly and stood. I had no idea what I wanted to do or say. With a sideways glance at Alison, I said, "I'll be right back."

I crossed the aisle to Lisa. It took her a moment to turn and look at me, but when she did, she gestured for me to sit. "Hey, Birdy."

Birdy. I wished I hadn't been so self-conscious about bringing a stuffed animal to camp, because I already missed it. It made me feel close to her when we were apart. I turned my shoulder into the seatback, angling away from Alison and the rest of the bus. "Hi."

"What can I do for you?" she asked lightly.

"Nothing." I tucked some hair behind my ear. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke mixed. The bus driver turned the music up a little for Aerosmith's "Crazy." "What do you think so far?" I asked.

"Lots of things."

"Good things?"

"Good things." She glanced at my knees and then away. "Are you cold? You have goosebumps."

I did, but not because the air conditioning was too high. They were from being close to her, from having a secret nickname, from Steven Tyler's "C'mere, baby." I shook my head. "I'm fine."

She looked back out the window. Our beloved beach had been replaced with desertscape and rundown towns. Soon it'd be mountains, pine trees, curvy roads.

"Do you want to be alone?" I asked.

She didn't respond right away. She had a hard profile, darkened against the bright window. Always brooding, with her pitch-black hair and heavy eyebrows. Would she tell me what she was thinking about if I got up the courage to ask? I didn't think so. I'd never met anyone so private, and it only fueled my curiosity.

If she wanted me to go, I figured she was too polite to say so. I went to get up, but she said, "No."

She had a funny way of acting like she wanted me around since she didn't look at or speak to me. But I hadn't been alone with her in weeks, and I had questions—about nothing and everything.

I chose a safe topic. "Are you finished at the house?"

She turned to me. "Not yet. We're waiting for some permits to come through."

"Then what?"

"We'll be there another couple weeks or so."

Hearing she'd be around a little longer wasn't much of relief because summer would be over in two weeks anyway—and I had no idea what would happen next. "Then what?" I pressed.

"I graduate in December, and I start training to be a police officer."

"Where?"

"Wherever there's a place for me."

My face flushed, my blood suddenly rushing. The idea of her leaving made my heart thump painfully hard. I was stuck in every sense of the word. I had two years left of high school. After that, I'd be in Los Angeles for at least four years for college. What if she didn't want to go back to L.A.? I couldn't even get in a car and drive anywhere until I got my license. Lisa could leave at any moment without even telling me. No warning, no way for me to follow her.

I gripped the edge of her seat cushion in a fist, as if that'd keep her here. "You'd move?"

She must've heard the panic in my voice, because she studied me. Her expression smoothed. "Only if I had to. I like Orange County, and I don't plan to leave. But I have to go where the work is."

"Will you tell me if you do?" I asked.

She wrinkled her nose. "Of course."

"Can I have your phone number just in case?"

She laughed a little and rested her head against the back of the seat. "You make me smile, Jennie. Nobody else does. How could I walk away from you?" Her joy, if you could call it that, eased as she stared up at the ceiling. she kept her voice down. "I'll promise you something better. Wherever I go, I won't abandon you."

"What does that mean? I can come with you?"

"It just means we'll always be friends. As long as you want that."

I held onto her seat even more tightly. I believed her, because it was the same for me. If I had to be away from her a few years, if I had to make long distance phone calls or write letters—no cost would be too high to keep her in my life. And maybe down the line, that would pay off. One day, she'd look at me and see a beautiful, sexy woman instead of the awkward, inexperienced teen I was now.

"Where would you go?" I asked.

"I honestly don't know."

"Home?"

She shook her head, still looking up. "I don't have a home."

I refrained from transferring my death grip from the cushion to her hand. I could give her whatever it was she was missing. I knew I could. "How is that possible?" I asked softly.

"Some people just don't. It's not always a bad thing."

"Tell me about your family."

"No."

"What about your sister? Is she with your parents?"

With her head back, her throat was exposed, so I could see and hear her swallow. "No. I don't talk about my family."

"Even with me? I won't tell anyone."

"It has nothing to do with you. I just don't."

I knew I shouldn't take it personally, but I did. Nobody made her smile like me—wasn't that worth something? Didn't she trust me? Feel close to me? I'd trusted her from the moment she'd held my bracelet in her palm and asked me to come get it. All this time, I'd thought she was asking me to read between the lines, to hear the things she couldn't say.

"We're friends, aren't we?" I asked.

"I already told you we were. I just said we'd always be."

"You don't know that. Are you embarrassed to have a friend my age?"

"No," she said flatly. She looked about to add something and thought better of it. She spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "You're not that much younger than your sister."

"But we're different."

"I know." She blinked. "How do you think you two are different?"

"She's pretty."

She shut her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. "She is."

It wasn't the reassurance I wanted. Maybe she thought I was fishing for a compliment, and I was, so why couldn't she just tell me I was pretty, too? Was that so bad? I wouldn't read anything into it. I was ninety-nine percent sure about that.

"Someday," Lisa said, almost to herself, "when you're older and wiser, looking back on this, you'll understand."

"When?"

"I can't tell you that, because I'm not even sure I understand."

That wasn't fair. Maybe she didn't know exactly what she felt about me, but she had some idea, and she expected me not to wonder about it. I would wonder and think hard about it now—not 'someday' when it might be too late. When she was already gone. I wasn't convinced Lisa wanted Nayeon, or even that she wanted her. So what was the link between them? When one didn't want the other, what had kept them together the past month?

"I said someday," Lisa said, breaking the silence. "Not now."

"I can't wait that long."

She grinned at me. "There's no hidden prize or anything. Just understanding that comes with time and age." She looked at my bare legs and quickly away again, as if it were a habit she was trying to break. "You know our conversations—they stay between us. Right? You know that?"

I nodded. Our time together was precious and not to be shared. "I know."

"All right. Let's talk about something interesting." She sat up again and scratched her chin, thinking. "If you won a contest on the radio to go anywhere in the world and you had to leave tomorrow night, where would you go?"

"Big Bear," I said.

She laughed. "But you'll already be there."

So will you. I wasn't brave enough to say it. Instead I asked, "What was Nayeon's answer?"

"I didn't ask her."

A thrill ran up my spine. This was mine. "I have to think about it."

"That's fine." She turned to me, giving me her full attention. "We have time. I want to know."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I care," she said. "I care very much."