Friendship List #2 Page 8

  “We had amazing sunsets at camp. We called them sky appreciation moments, and we’d just stop doing whatever we were doing, put our arms around each other, and stare at the sky,” I tell her, moving to sit on the edge of the chair. When I talk about camp, my heart starts to beat faster, and I get all excited, and this happy, warm, blankety feeling washes over me, like I can’t get the words out fast enough. “And this is so funny—Alice was so obsessed with the sky and the sunsets at Silver that she would joke she was going to name her kid after it.”

  “Name her kid after the camp?” Kaylan looks at me funny.

  “No, after the sunsets. Like she’d name her kid Silver Sky whatever last name of the guy she married. She’s in love with this boy Danny Minkler from home, so she’d say her son would be Silver Sky Minkler. And then we’d all crack up.” I look at Kaylan, waiting to see Kaylan’s reaction, but all I see is confusion.

  “That’s such a crazy name.” Kaylan shakes her head. “She wouldn’t really name a kid that. Right?”

  “It was just a funny thing. I can’t explain it.” I look back toward the sunset.

  “I feel like you have so many camp things you can’t explain,” Kaylan says, trying again to take a picture. “It’s like this other world that only makes sense to people who go there or something.”

  “I guess. But, I mean, you came to visit, so you sort of, kind of get it, right?”

  “Only the teensiest bit.”

  We’re quiet for a little bit after that, just staring at the sunset, and I try to figure out if Kaylan’s response to camp stuff is weird or if I’m just imagining it. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it really doesn’t make sense unless you’re there.

  When the sun is almost totally set, Kaylan turns to me and says, “Okay, now I’m freaking out.”

  “About what?” I ask.

  “I didn’t think about all the little details of being alone with my dad and Ryan in a hotel room. Changing. What if I get the big P while I’m away?” She stares at me, eyes bulged.

  I clench my teeth and try to think. “Well, you can change in the bathroom. And bring big P supplies, and then you’ll be ready just in case.” I look back at the sky and then at Kaylan. “It’ll be fine. You were just feeling so calm about this. What happened?”

  “I thought about the big P and now I’m not fine. Ari, you have to help me.” She scooches her chair close to mine and leans her head on my shoulder. “Please.”

  “Okay, okay, we’ll map it all out. Deep breaths.” I look into her eyes. “Honestly, we’ll figure out a plan. You know these things are never as bad as you imagine them to be.”

  “Yeah. I guess, but the imagining part still freaks me out.”

  Well, it seems like the Kaylan I know and love is back.

  I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but we have a long night in front of us, and at least it’s something I know how to handle.

  FIFTEEN

  AFTER OUR FIRST MOVIE OF the night (Grease—Kaylan’s choice) we’re back out on Kaylan’s front porch, covered in afghans her grandma knit years ago. Her mom is home and going up to bed, and we’re snacking on a big bag of popcorn she picked up at the movie theater for us.

  The air still smells like summer—like citronella candles and wet mud. It’s hard to believe that school is starting so soon, that the next time we have a summer I’ll have already had my bat mitzvah, and we’ll be going into eighth grade.

  “So Camp Silver . . . ,” Kaylan starts. “People just go back summer after summer? Does it get boring or anything?”

  “No, it’s the best. People just love being together, and being there, and they wouldn’t want to be any other place in the summer. It’s like they all savor every second.” I stand up, tuck my legs underneath me, and cover myself with the blanket. “I’m mad I didn’t start when I was younger like all of my other friends. I missed out on so much.”

  Kaylan’s mouth drops. “Ari! That’s so rude. You’re saying the summers we spent together didn’t mean anything to you!”

  I hesitate a second, and my heartbeat speeds up, like I need to defend myself. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I love being with you in Brookside. Obvs. It’s just that camp is awesome, too, and I didn’t even realize how great it was.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kaylan rolls her eyes. “You wish you could live at camp! If you had a choice between being here with me or being at camp—what would you choose?”

  I shake my head. “Not a fair question.”

  “So is a fair question. You just don’t want to answer.”

  I laugh. “Kay-Kay. Chill.”

  “If I had a dollar for every time you told me that, I could buy my own camp!” She stands up and stretches her legs.

  “All right. Not a bad plan.” We crack up for a few minutes.

  “Let’s go back inside for the next movie.” I stand up and grab her hand. “I need to warm up a little.”

  Back in the house, we make some hot chocolate and cozy up for our second movie of the night (Wet Hot American Summer—my choice). I picked this one because I think (or hope) that it will give Kaylan more of an understanding of the summer camp experience. It’s true this movie is supposed to take place in the 1980s, though, and it’s not so much like my time at Camp Silver. But close enough. Also, it’s hilarious.

  “I just don’t get why people pay money to live in dirty wooden cabins, all crammed in together, and eat bad food and then do activities they’re forced to do, even if they don’t want to,” Kaylan says after the movie is over. “Like why is any of that fun?”

  I sit up straight on the couch, tucking my feet underneath my legs. “Because you’re with amazing people, and you’re outside, and it’s basically only kids there, no parents, and you get to stay up late, and you really learn more about yourself, and at Camp Silver, you get to, like, do Jewish stuff but it’s actually fun and kind of comes alive there.”

  Kaylan crinkles her eyebrows like she’s trying to figure out what I’m saying. “I’m hearing you, and I’m so glad you love it, but I still don’t get it.” She tilts her head to the side. “Why would you want to have to wait for your turn to shower? And then scrape all the food waste into a big bin? Gross.”

  “It’s okay if you don’t get it, Kay.” I stretch my arms above my head and rub my eyes. It’s almost three in the morning, and we still have four more hours to wait until the sun rises. “Honestly, I’m okay with you not getting it. I just like telling you about it.”

  “Sure?” she asks. “I can keep trying to get it.”

  “It’s okay. For real.”

  I wonder if our friendship can still be as strong as it was if I don’t share all of this with her. Will it be like there’s this huge divide between us? Like I’m on one side of a river and she’s on another side? Eventually the river will keep getting wider and wider and will we really be able to reach other again?

  I don’t know for sure.

  Somehow we make it to the sunrise, but I must admit—it’s harder than I thought it was going to be. The movies and the snacks helped us stay awake. And a few more dance parties to Kaylan’s Summer Jams mix.

  “I’m so tired,” Kaylan whines when we’re back outside but facing the other direction. “Why did we put this on the list again?”

  “Because we got so much great talking in, didn’t we? And we had to bond and reconnect after we were apart for so long. And it’s magical to see the sunset and sunrise. All of this goes on without anyone even telling it to. There’s no person pulling the strings. Or some computer. Or a timer. Or anyone having to work to make it happen. It just does. The sun rises in the morning and sets at night, and no matter what’s going on in the world, or in anyone’s personal life, it still happens.” I pause and swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat. I didn’t expect to get choked up by the sunrise. “Doesn’t it make you feel super calm knowing that the sun will always rise and always set? Like, no matter what.”

  “Um.�
� Kaylan stares at me and bursts out laughing. “Not really. Also, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you may have gotten a little cheesier since you got home from camp.”

  “Okay.” I lean back against the chair and cozy up under the afghan. “I won’t take it the wrong way, but that may be the only way to take it.”

  “Maybe that’s why you’re calm, though. You spend time thinking about the sun rising and setting.” Our eyes meet and then she looks away. “But also, you don’t have so much to be stressed about.”

  Her last comment startles me. “What does that mean?”

  “Just that your life is pretty chill. So you’re chill.”

  “I’m too tired to debate this with you,” I tell her, closing my eyes. “Can we go to sleep after the sun rises?”

  “Duh. Of course.”

  We stay quiet for a little bit after that, and I think about her comment. I guess my life is pretty chill. But Kaylan also freaks out about nothing so much of the time. She went crazy when people were watching us too closely during freeze dance last summer, and then the whole Tyler thing at first—she was obsessed. And she freaked out when she tore her black stockings on Halloween in fifth grade and said her costume was ruined. I mean, no one was even going to notice the tear.

  There has to be a balance somewhere.

  We finally see the sun rising and the sky turning orangey pink, and it’s like the whole world is waking up all at once. Everything felt sleepy and dark just a minute ago, and now it’s vibrant and bright and energized.

  “I think we should do this more often, Kay,” I tell her as we stumble up the stairs to crawl into her bed. “It’s really a miracle that this happens every day.”

  “Uh-huh,” Kaylan says, pulling up her comforter. “Now we sleep. And when we wake up, we JHH.”

  “Okay.” I lie there for a little while, thinking about Kaylan and all of her plans—preparing to make mac and cheese, then actually making the mac and cheese, staying up all night, sleeping, even JHHing.

  I think when we plan too much, we kind of miss the moment. And then we freak out when things don’t go exactly the way we planned them. Because there’s literally no way for anything to ever go exactly as we plan it. It’s just not possible.

  But I’m too tired to get any of these words out of my mouth right now. And Kaylan’s sleeping anyway.

  I kind of thought staying up all night with Kaylan right after I got home from camp would make us feel closer, bonded the way we were before I left. But now I’m not so sure that happened.

  It’s not like we’re farther apart, really.

  We’re just a little uneven.

  SIXTEEN

  MY PHONE BUZZES FROM ACROSS the room on Kaylan’s desk, where I left it the night before, or actually not the night—it was this morning.

  I will it to stop buzzing because I’ve only been asleep for a few hours and I want to sleep more. My eyes are heavy, and my mind feels all cloudy, like the time we drove home from Pennsylvania in the craziest fog I’d ever seen. It literally felt like we were driving through a cloud.

  The phone doesn’t stop buzzing, though. Eventually, I pull myself out of bed and shuffle over to get it.

  “Hello?” I mumble.

  “Ari! I forgot to remind you we have the meeting with the caterer this morning! He had to move it up a few days. Dad and I are picking you up at ten thirty, okay?”

  “Um, wait. Say that again.”

  “Just be ready at ten thirty.”

  I crawl back into Kaylan’s bed. She’s in a deep sleep. I look at the clock. 9:03. Okay. I can sleep for another hour and set the alarm on my phone and still be up and ready when my parents get here.

  “What’s going on?” Kaylan mumbles. “What time is it?”

  “Only nine. Go back to sleep,” I tell her, rolling over onto my stomach and praying I fall back asleep right away.

  Thankfully, we both do, so much so that when my phone alarm screeches an hour later, we both startle, jolting up in bed like there’s been an explosion.

  “What’s going on?” Kaylan asks again.

  I squeeze my eyes tight, open them, and then squeeze them closed tight again. There’s a physical pain that creeps over you after you’ve stayed up all night. It’s like every single cell in your body hurts at the same time, and you’re not sure you’ll ever feel completely put together again.

  Everyone is Humpty Dumpty after they stay up all night. It’s a fact.

  “I have to go with my parents to meet with the caterer for my bat mitzvah,” I tell her. “My mom forgot to remind me, and I forgot. Anyway, sorry to rush out like this after sunset/sunrise night.” I stand up and go over to the corner of the room to find my overnight bag.

  “Oh! And we have to JHH!” Kaylan screeches, hopping out of bed and running over to hug me from behind. “And also, OMG, I’m leaving tomorrow for the trip with my dad! For real! This can’t be good-bye!”

  “Kay.” I laugh, wiggling into my jean shorts. “It’s obviously not good-bye. It’s a week. I’ll see you at school. We’ll text, talk, Insta, whatever while you’re on vacation anyway.”

  She sits back down on her bed, holding her head in her hands. “No. Please. It can’t end this way.”

  I fully crack up. “Dude, nothing is ending. I think you’re just exhausted. Go back to sleep.”

  She lies back down, and I go to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth and generally try to make myself look presentable. But I still feel like Humpty Dumpty.

  When I get back to Kaylan’s room, she’s all dressed in her favorite jean cutoff shorts and a pink cold-shoulder top. Her dirty-blond hair is in a high ponytail and it looks as if she definitely got the full eight hours of sleep, maybe even nine or ten.

  How is it possible for someone to look this good on so little sleep?

  “I’m coming with you to the meeting,” she declares. “We need this extra time together, and I’ve never been to a caterer meeting, and this whole bat mitzvah thing feels so exciting.” She pauses, clasping her hands together like she’s praying. “Please can I come? Please, please.”

  “Um.” I look around her room, thinking of what to say. I don’t actually know if she can come or not, but I don’t see why it would be a problem. And I can always make the case that she’s leaving for a week, and I just got home, and all of that.

  She makes her bed, and grabs her phone, and then says, “Come on, let’s go grab something for breakfast. Oh, but first! JHH!”

  “Yes!”

  We clear some stuff off her bedroom floor so we have room to do the moves, and then we jump in the air, high-five, and hug.

  “Amazing,” I say. “We’re so good at JHHing now.”

  “Well, we’ve had a lot of practice,” Kaylan says as we head downstairs.

  “Ooh. Do you have any of your mom’s banana nut muffins for breakfast? Those are my fave.”

  “I think we do!”

  When we get to the kitchen, we find a note on the table that Kaylan’s mom and Ryan have gone for a run and they’ll be back soon.

  “They run now?” I ask, tearing off a piece of muffin.

  “Yeah, it’s, like, their new thing. My mom joined a running club in the neighborhood with some other moms, but sometimes she just goes with Ryan.” Kaylan sips some orange juice. “They like it. Mother-son bonding or whatever.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool.” I pour myself some orange juice, right as I hear a honk coming from outside. “Oh, my parents are here. You ready?”

  Kaylan jumps up and puts the orange juice back in the fridge.

  “Oh, uh, hi, Kaylan,” my mom says as we get into the car.

  “Hi.” Kaylan smiles, buckling her seat belt. “I am so excited to join this meeting. This whole bat mitzvah experience is so fascinating for a Catholic girl like me. I just want to soak it in. Ya know?”

  “Well, we didn’t know you were coming.” My dad looks at my mom, waiting for her to
say something. “But, uh, okay.”

  I feel my mom tensing up from the backseat. She doesn’t like sudden changes in plans, and for some strange reason, anything bat mitzvah related seems to bring out even more of the control freak in her.

  “This isn’t a joke, though, girls,” she adds. “It’s a serious meeting.”

  When someone tells you something isn’t a joke, it can make you crack up. There’s not a real explanation for why; it just is.

  My mom repeats, “I just said this isn’t a joke,” in the middle of our laughing.

  “We know. We know.” I try to calm her down. “Mom, it’s all gonna be great. Honestly. Just chill.”

  Kaylan leans over and whispers, “Sounds like you’re talking to me,” and then bursts out laughing again.

  “Shh.” I slap her knee. “Stop. For real.”

  The rest of the ride is quiet except for my parents muttering things to each other in the front seat, but it’s impossible to hear what they’re saying.

  Kaylan whispers, “Are you going to have a sushi station? Remember Ashley Feldman’s was amazing.”

  I nod. “No clue. We’ll see, I guess.”

  “Oh! And remember how we had, like, seven Shirley Temples?”

  I giggle. “Yeah, what were we thinking?”

  “Well, we were only nine, so it kinda makes sense . . . I still can’t believe we were even invited!”

  “You were invited because Colleen and I were in a book club with Eleanor at that time,” my mom chimes in from the front seat.

  “Okay, Mom. Thanks for the explanation.” I roll my eyes in Kaylan’s direction.

  She whispers, “Anyway, we gotta tell Gemma to go easy on the Shirley Temples at yours.”

  We get to the golf club and park in the member parking lot, and as we walk in, I think about how nice it feels to be a member of something. My parents are members here, and we’re members of the temple, but I think we take it for granted. To be a member of something is to really be a part of it, a built-in community.