Chapter 10

“Decided yet?” she asked the Michael, looking down on him over the tuk bar.
He sucked in his cheeks, as if thinking about it was hurting his head. “Nooo,” he said finally.
For the third time, Jesse turned to the next person in line, who asked for Reese Peanut Butter Cups and a Pepsi. Then she glanced back at Michael, who just shook his head, so she served the next person. “Just tell me when you’re ready,” she said in amused exasperation. Marilyn was doling out tuk to the campers, who lined up inside the pavilion, and Jesse was doing the staff line, through the window facing the lake. Michael had been standing there for about five minutes already, dragging out his decision longer than she thought was possible. He came every day, and every day he got a popsicle, but he never made it easy. In fact, every day it seemed to take him longer to decide on a flavour.
Soon the short line-up of voracious young people was appeased with chips and candy and pop, and there was a momentary lull in business. Michael still stood there, forearms on the counter, hands folded as if asking for heavenly guidance.
Jesse scrutinized him for a few moments, then went to the freezer, took out a popsicle, and placed it next to him. “That’s 50 cents.”
He looked at the popsicle and then at her. “I didn’t ask for that,” he said so seriously Jesse couldn’t tell if he were joking or not.
She snorted. “I could give it to you now or in half an hour when you do decide you want it.”
“But I don’t want it,” he retorted. “You can’t just give me something I didn’t ask for. I am a paying customer, and I’ll make up my own mind, thank you very much. I won’t be pressured into buying something I don’t want.”
She rolled her eyes. “What do you want then?” His antics were entertaining, but incessant. She replaced the popsicle in the freezer. Presently Mark and Peter appeared for their tuk. “Is this guy giving you any trouble, Ma’am?” Peter asked in mock severity, putting his hand forcefully on Michael’s right shoulder.
Mark walked around to his other side. “Because if he is, we can take care of him for you,” he offered hopefully.
Michael looked down at Mark, who was a full head shorter than himself, and grinned. “I’d like to see that,” he dared.
She shook her head dismally. “I’d be happy if he’d just take his popsicle and be done with it. It’s painful watching him like this, agonizing over banana or cherry or grape, or whatever it is he’s thinking about. I can’t help but pity him.”
“I’m right here, you know,” Michael asserted, pretending to be offended.
“Well then,” said Peter, “if you’re sure our services aren’t needed, I’ll have a Kit-Kat and a bottle of water.”
“Doritos and an Oreo ice-cream sandwich, please and thank you,” Mark added.
When they left, Jesse busied herself by putting more cans of pop in the fridge. When that was done, there was nothing else she could do without getting in Marilyn’s way, so she came to the counter beside Michael and leaned on it. “Take as long as you want,” she said finally, after ignoring him for a full five seconds. “But we close at 3:30.”
Michael stared straight ahead, appearing too deep in thought to notice her. Other staff came and went, but he stood there for a full ten minutes before finally requesting a banana popsicle.

Debbie, wet and wrapped in a beach towel, came up shortly after Michael left. “Phil wants some Reese’s Pieces,” she said, and Phil waved from her post on the picnic table by the beach.
“Something wrong?” Debbie asked when Jesse handed her the orange box.
Jesse smiled then, realizing she had been distracted and probably frowning. “Nah,” she said. “It’s just, well, boys. I’ll never understand them.”
“You don’t like boys much, do you, Jesse?” Debbie said, looking at her intently.
“Oh, they just get on my nerves, that’s all. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.” She looked down on Debbie, giving her a stern look. “And don’t you forget it, either, not for about another ten years.”
Debbie giggled. “Too late!” she declared, before running away to give Phil her candy.

Jesse was not the only one who knew that Michael ate a popsicle every day. Such an anomaly had no chance of slipping past Jasmine’s watchful eyes. Although her duties did not often bring her into close proximity to him, his comings and goings and general doings were carefully noted when she managed to be in viewing distance. It seemed her eyes acted of their own accord: a swift sweep of a room when she entered or a glance at the field or in the pavilion quickly told her if he was there, and she could recognize him coming out of the merest corner of her eye, so attuned was she to his presence. It had not taken her long to determine just who he had been looking at over her shoulder on Sunday night, and the amount of time he spent at the tuk shop was of no little concern to her young heart.
If only it weren’t Jesse, she told herself, she would have been able to bear it. She knew it had been absurd to suppose he had any interest in herself in the first place, but what could he possibly see in that girl? Other than her age, she decided Jesse had no great advantage over herself. Jasmine knew she was not particularly attractive, that she had glasses and a weak chin, but she was comforted by her green eyes and silky black hair. She had looked at herself in the mirror and knew that there was some kind of beauty there, if one looked correctly. Jesse couldn’t be that much prettier: her hair was a nondescript colour and there was nothing special about her eyes, or any other feature, for that matter. She was a dreadful bore, and above all, she was getting fatter every day.
This was what made it so strange, so offensive. Boys were not supposed to be interested in pregnant girls; it was unnatural. And yet, somehow, Jesse seemed to be able to use it to her advantage, to draw attention to herself and garner sympathy from everyone around her. She was nothing but a slut, and she came off looking like a religious hero. People around here practically worshipped her, and they could believe no shortcoming in her character, even when it stared them in the face. In everything they believed she was good and brave and decent. She couldn’t even convince Hannah or Susannah to look beyond her innocent charade.
She looked scornfully at Sus, who was at this moment calling Jesse “...the most Godly person I know under 50. Phil says she’s read the entire Bible twice in the last two years, and she gets up every morning to watch the sunrise and pray. Can you believe it?”
Hannah nodded and agreed with her in a low voice. “I can’t imagine what being raped must have done to her, it would have affected her on such a spiritual level, along with everything else. Samantha told me she hasn’t had a boyfriend since she was sixteen. She said she was seriously considering becoming a nun at one point.”
“Really?” Susannah asked skeptically, plucking a blade of grass up by its roots. “Aren’t nuns Catholic?”
Hannah shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe that’s why she didn’t do it. But she dumped her boyfriend anyway and said she just didn’t care about boys anymore.”
At this point Jasmine entered the conversation, loathing the subject but unwilling to pass up the opportunity to gain valuable information. “So what happened two years ago that made her up and break this poor boy’s heart? Don’t tell me she got that idea out of her Bible.”
“I asked Sam that,” said Hannah, “but I don’t think she wanted to talk about it.”
“Phil probably knows, if there’s anything worth telling. I could ask her,” Susannah offered.
Jasmine watched Michael give half his popsicle to a camper, then sit down on a picnic table and eat it with him. “Yes,” she said, “I’d like to know what made her change so dramatically.”

On a drizzly Thursday afternoon, while the campers were busy with their mini activities and some of the staff had an hour off, Susannah burst into Tamarac Central, with Jasmine close behind. “You’ll never believe it!” Susannah claimed. “Hannah, listen to this!” she implored, yanking the earphones off Hannah’s head.
Hannah, who had been contentedly dozing on top of her sleeping bag, was righteously indignant. “I was almost sleeping, you know,” she said with a scowl.
Susannah and Jasmine sat down on the bed next to her’s. It was Samantha’s, but she was leading the hiking class right now. “Sleep can wait, for once. You missed prayer meeting this morning so I know you don’t really need it anyways. Listen to this, you too Jas. You’re the one who wanted to know why Jesse dumped her boyfriend and started reading her Bible in the first place, aren’t you? Well I just found out!”
She waited a moment for effect, now that she had their attention. She had dragged Jasmine from Moose Canoe without telling her what this was about, wanting her revelation to be as dramatic as possible, and she knew now that it was going to work. “Jesse had a sister!” she proclaimed triumphantly.
Jasmine just sat there and let this sink in, but Hannah, who had been propped up on her side to hear the news, rolled over again with a groan. “Big deal. I have a sister too.”
“She doesn’t have a sister, you idiot, she had a sister. As in past tense,” Jasmine explained.
Hannah sat up, finally interested. “You mean she’s...”
“Dead.” Susannah finished for her.
“What was her name?” asked Hannah.
“Her name was May, and she was nineteen years old.”
“How’d she die?” asked Jasmine, sorry that anyone’s sister had died, even Jesse’s.
Susannah’s face fell, horrifically mournful. She had saved the best for last. “You’d never guess it in a thousand years, so I’ll have to tell you.” Her voice dropped deep and low, conspiratorially. “It was almost two years ago. She was visiting a missionary family in Israel, I don’t know why so don’t bother asking. But one night, their house caught on fire. It was burnt to a crisp, and the entire family died. Their charred bones were found in their beds, they say they probably never woke up. But the family’s oldest son and May weren’t with them. They were found at the end of the street, hand in hand, lying face-down in the middle of the road, their bodies riddled with bullets.”
A bird chirping outside in a brief ray of sunlight that broke through the clouds seemed out of place, mocking the atrocity of the scene just described for them.
Hannah was for once dumbfounded. “You’re joking me,” she said unbelievingly, her eyes wide with horror.
Susannah shook her head. “I’m perfectly serious. Phil didn’t want to talk about it last night when I asked her, but this morning she changed her mind. I guess she decided I should know about it, since everyone else here does, apparently, and she didn’t want me saying anything stupid to Jesse. Once she got started she got right into it though, like it was a relief to get it all out. She has her own theories, too. She doesn’t think May was just visiting those people. She says she was probably doing something with that family, some sort of underground Christian work.”
“So she was a martyr?” Hannah said uncertainly.
Susannah nodded. “Phil thinks so, although no one knows for sure. But that family was certainly missionaries, and their lives had been threatened before, so she was taking a chance just staying with them. Anyway she died with them, and in extremely mysterious circumstances. I’d say she was a martyr either way.”
“So this May,” questioned Hannah, “she was a real missionary type? All gung-ho for God and everything?”
“Yep,” said Susannah. “She’d worked at camp for five years before she left, and she was head cabin leader her last year. They named Ingleside for her, it used to be called Peapod or something awful like that. They say she led gads of campers to Christ. Phil says she remembers her walking around with a little Bible in her hand wherever she went. And get this: she’d sworn herself to a life of celibacy!”
“Celibacy?” Hannah repeated, “you mean like, she’d never get married?”
Susannah nodded and let the significance of it sink in. “Until the day she died, she’d never had a boyfriend, or even had a crush. Phil says she acted like boys didn’t exist, except that she got really nervous when she had to acknowledge them. She wouldn’t even shake their hands, she’d just pretend she didn’t notice when they tried.”
“And yet,” Jasmine noted, “you say she died holding a boy’s hand.”
“Well, I only know what I’ve been told,” Susannah said, only slightly deterred by Jasmine’s skepticism. She knew it was still a fabulous story, and one conflicting detail made little dent in her satisfaction.

Later in the evening Jesse walked slowly between the girls’ cabins, waiting patiently for their occupants to settle down. ‘First bell’ at 9:45 pm had seen 29 girls digging for toothbrushes and toothpaste under mountains of shoes and clothing, then jostling each other for sink and mirror space in the washroom. At 10:00 she had rung ‘second bell’, seven clanging times as always, and the few stragglers left outside made their ways to their cabins, some faster than others. The next half hour was ‘loud time’ in the cabins, and Jesse had made her rounds slowly, not bothering to go inside any of them. The cold air and the star-filled sky with raucous, childish voices carrying far out into the night was soothingly familiar, and she felt no need for human company. 10:30 started a half hour of ‘quiet time’ for cabin devotions, but she allowed them a few minutes grace before reminding one cabin that was still rowdy. Most cabins quieted on their own, as leaders were anxious to put an end to the deafening racket. Moose Canoe even settled down early tonight. Jesse had been afraid Kaimi and Jasmine would have a hard time of it, but their cabin had been surprisingly well-behaved all week. Carrie and Marcy, deprived of their unruly comrades from last summer, had grudgingly settled into camp routine and weren’t giving their counsellors much trouble besides their unresponsiveness.
Tamarac Central followed suit shortly thereafter, but at 10:35 Jesse decided to “say goodnight” to an unusually rambunctious Cedar Circle. Odd, since Phil was usually a pretty strict disciplinarian.
One look at Susannah’s defeated face reminded her that Phil was leading the Outdoor Survival class’s overnight camp-out on the other property tonight. Susannah looked both embarrassed for being unable to maintain order on her own, and relieved at the sight of help. The girls were for the most part in their own bunks, but aside from this, little headway had been made. A card game was going on across a row of three top bunks. Two girls in the opposite, lower corner were crunching their way through a large bag of chips. The rest were yelling at each other, apparently for the sake of hearing their own voices.
No one had heard her knock, and it took them a minute to notice her. She stood in front of the door as the din gradually faded into silence. This was strange: campers had a somewhat higher respect for the head cabin leader, but not so much that her presence should have this much of an impact, before she even said a word; especially since half of these girls had been in her cabin last year, and were largely unimpressed by her newly-acquired authority. However, she couldn’t complain about the cessation of noise. What disturbed her more was the guilty look they were all giving her, Susannah now included.
Jesse grinned nervously. “That’s better,” she said brightly, although she wasn’t at all sure that it was. No one answered her for a dragging interval. “It’s quiet time, so let Susannah start devotions, ok?” Still no one talked. They were all glancing at each other, all nervously biting lips and tongues, and swallowing loudly. Crickets could be heard outside. Susannah seemed unable to begin. “Did I miss something?” Jesse finally asked.
It was just starting to get creepy when an unidentified girl asked, unabashedly, what they’d all obviously been talking about. “Um, Jesse, are you a lesbian?”
Some of the others broke out in nervous giggles. Susannah looked mortified. Jesse tried to figure out if this was serious. Her eyes searched the room and landed on Debbie, who wasn’t smiling. So this was for real. Ok then, she could deal with this. First she smiled at Sus to reassure her, then sat down on Phil’s bed. “No,” she said firmly, “I am not a lesbian. But could you please tell me why you thought to ask?” There was a noticeable loss of tension in the room, and Jesse was glad she’d thought to be direct. She felt embarrassed, offended that anyone would suggest this of her, and she could have replied in anger. Such a question didn’t deserve an answer, in her opinion, but a swift denial was the best way to ease their minds, and that was her first concern.
The girl who’d spoken up seemed to have lost her nerve. Ruth-Anne, a slight, blond girl on a bottom bunk close by finally answered. “Debbie said you were.”
“I did not!” Debbie cried indignantly. She looked remorsefully at Jesse. “I was only worried that you might be.”
“And Phil,” put in another girl.
“Phil said no such thing,” Jesse said with great confidence.
“No, we mean Phil and you.”
“Phil and me?” Jesse said in disbelief.
“You don’t like boys,” said a girl lying on her stomach on a top bunk. “Marcy said her counsellor told her you haven’t had a boyfriend in two years. Phil doesn’t have a boyfriend either, and you two met three years ago.”
“You never talk to guys, or about them,” said another of her former campers. “I remember last year, you wouldn’t even let us talk about guys at all inside the cabin.”
“I heard you wanted to be a nun.”
“You wear guys’ clothes.” This statement was met with more outright laughter.
Jesse waited a second or two for something else. “Is that it?” she asked incredulously when no more accusations were forthcoming. “That’s all? From that, you conclude that Phil and I are gay?” No one said anything else. Jesse laughed. “So you’re suspicious of us because we are friends, because neither of us have or want boyfriends right now, and because I wear a lot of plaid? Come on, I find that a little hard to believe.”
“Last year you told us we should love gay people, and we shouldn’t make jokes about them,” one girl offered.
“I also said that homosexuality is a sin, and sin is a serious thing, not something to laugh at.”
“She said we should hate the sin and love the sinner,” Debbie said proudly, glad she remembered this. “Because God hates our sin, but he still loves us.”
Jesse nodded. “That’s right.”
“They’ve been asking me all night about this stuff,” Susannah said tiredly. “If it’s wrong, why it’s wrong, how wrong it really is if it is wrong...I couldn’t answer it all. I didn’t know why they were asking.” she added, and Jesse felt sympathy for her. It was definitely a difficult subject.
“So why is it a sin?” someone asked. “It doesn’t hurt anybody.”
Oh no, she thought, I can’t get into this! She racked her brain for an answer that would be true, without inviting further questions. “Because God says it is,” she said evenly. “Goodnight girls. Listen to your cabin leader and be quiet for your devotions.” she said, and left without waiting for replies. Their chatter might have resumed behind her as the door shut, but if it did she didn’t know it. She walked swiftly across the field and turned right at a dirt road that was really just tire tracks, and then went to walk through the thinly treed area to her little cabin.
“Jesse!” Michael’s voice called from behind her.
But she was in no mood to talk. “Go away!” she flung back at him without turning around.
“Jesse, stop!” he said more urgently. She stopped.
He jogged up and grabbed her elbow, turning her around with him. “Skunk, in the trees,” he said quietly in explanation as he dragged her along. She reclaimed her arm and kept up with him of her own accord, but she was mad. Not at him, but he didn’t know that and she didn’t bother telling him that. Michael noticed her agitation and figured she was entitled to it, when she was probably tired and just wanted to go to bed, and was instead being kept away from it. He was a night person, and didn’t mind waiting outside when it was so warm and peaceful, but she was a morning person, and he imagined that to her this was as unpleasant as being woken up early was to him. Seen in that light, she was taking it rather well.
They sat on a picnic table overlooking the beach to await the skunk’s departure. Jesse maintained a glum silence for a while, but then found herself relating that evening’s story.
“We live in a sick world, Michael,” she informed him after it had all poured out. “When something as sweet and innocent as love between friends can be turned into something ugly, in the minds of thirteen-year-olds, and ones who should know better.”
Michael was sympathetic. He agreed that the world was becoming increasingly perverted, but he couldn’t imagine that this could be a shock to Jesse. Yet she seemed profoundly affected by this little incident. “It does seem odd that they would think up something like that.”
“But it isn’t,” she shook her head, “not when you consider their surroundings, the media, their schools, their homes even. That’s what they’re being taught, openly and subliminally. It seems out of place here, in this place, but that’s the world they live in. They have to live in it, nothing can change that, and it’s ruining so many things that God made for them to enjoy - like true, loving friendships. And it’s even worse for boys, I think.”
“It’s a crying shame,” he agreed.
“Then why isn’t anyone crying about it?” she asked.
He looked at her thoughtfully, compassionately. “It looks like you are.”
Her smarting eyes finally brimmed over and two tears trailed down her face. “Crying won’t do anyone much good.” she said certainly.
“Crying out about it might,” he ventured.
“And if I did, who would listen? I’m not brave enough to try, anyway.” She wouldn’t even know where to start, and she’d only make a fool of herself.
“You did tonight,” Michael told her, “and those girls listened, I think, better than you know.”
“Talking to ten girls is hardly an outcry,” Jesse said doubtfully.
“It’s a start,” said Michael.

Friday afternoon there were no Mini activities. After swim and tuk, both which were enthusiastically attended, boys and girls had two hours to get ready for Banquet, which was really only supper followed by the handing out of awards for levels achieved in Major and Mini activities, for the winning team from games time, and in recognition of years of attendance in multiples of five. The cooks made an especially nice meal of ham and scalloped potatoes, served with the customary sweet-rolls, and the crafts class put up a few feeble decorations. To the campers, however, it was no small affair. Boys washed and combed their hair and passed out gel to spike it up at the front. The girls brought out skirts and dresses and make-up which had been banned until tonight. They did one another’s hair and borrowed so many shoes and accessories and clothes that many ended up entirely decked out in their friends’ belongings. A few finished early and loitered in the pavilion for a half-hour before dinner, but when Zeb and Keith came around to take cabin photos, many unfinished girls had to be dragged petulantly outside to meet the camera, no doubt resulting in many sour-faced pictures of normally happy campers.
It was in the middle of this ruckus that Jesse apprehended Phil for a private conversation at Ingleside. It was not an unusual time for the head cabin leader to conduct such interviews, as there were plenty of counsellors around to manage the chaos, which really required little else but supervision.
“Did Sus tell you about last night?” Jesse asked when they reached her cabin.
“She didn’t have to,” said Phil, “Debbie told me.”
That was odd, Jesse thought. “What did she say about it?”
Phil’s nose wrinkled. “Remember a couple days ago, when I was talking to the baby...?”
Jesse groaned. “That’s right, she walked in on us! So that’s how this whole thing got started. I shouldn’t have let her barge in here all the time. I thought the reasons those girls gave me were kind of flimsy.”
“Well, Deb started the rumour, but she didn’t tell anyone else about that episode. At least, she told me she didn’t. But she was really worried, Jesse, and now she’s sorry. You should talk to her. I think she’s afraid you’re mad at her.”
“Mad? Well, maybe I was, a little,” Jesse admitted. “But she should know she can talk to me. You’re sure she’s convinced we’re not gay?”
“Positive,” Phil affirmed. “The poor girl can’t understand how she got the idea in her head in the first place.”
“So I don’t need to explain why you were lounging on me?” Jesse said with a teasing grin.
“No,” Phil answered slowly, “I don’t think you have to, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
Jesse frowned. This sounded like the beginning of a familiar argument.
“Don’t get upset,” Phil hurried to explain, “I think I understand a little better now, why you don’t want to go around telling everybody. There’s no reason for that, but Debbie isn’t just a camper - she’s your friend. Anyone can see that. She looks up to you. Did you know she became a Christian because of you?”
Jesse choked up. “No, I didn’t know that. She never told me.”
“Well, she told me this morning,” said Phil, “while she was apologizing. I’ve never seen such mournful repentance in a girl. That girl’s gonna be somebody, Jesse. She’s trying so hard to become mature. She wants to be Godly, and she’s made you her example. I don’t think you could hurt her by telling, it would probably mean a lot that you trusted her. It could go a long way towards helping her grow up.”
It was a long and insightful speech for Phil. Jesse had no idea her friend possessed such persuasion. “I don’t know what to say to that,” she said softly.

She did it after Banquet. It was easier than she’d expected, confiding in Deb. She did it quickly and dispassionately, walking with her along the beach, while close by on the field the rest of camp was assembled to watch the rocketry class’s rocket launch. She offered no details and Debbie asked none, but showed the maturity of a young woman and spent a minute walking in thoughtful silence. Picking a reed growing in the wet sand, she peeled it slowly into fine shreds.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said finally, and then came close to Jesse’s side and impulsively put her thin arm around Jesse’s waist. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
Jessie held her close. “So am I.”

At the conclusion of subsequent weeks, campers who’d had the time of their lives would, catching sight of their parents, forget everything else, rush into their arms, and leave without a single glance behind. Their cabin leaders would pretend not to be sad, and quietly sweep out their empty, noiseless cabins. This week, however, the campers were old enough to be acquiring a taste for independence. If they were eager to return home, it was more likely because they missed their CD collections than their families. The friendships that had just begun to form, or had been picked up from last summer, were more important to them than they were to the younger children. Instead of running into their parents’ arms, they filled them with suitcases and sleeping bags, letting them pack the car while they themselves spent their last few moments with friends. All over camp, couples and small groups could be seen affectionately hugging each other goodbye. There were promises made of letters, phone calls and visits, most of which would inevitably be broken. It was a heartwarming scene if ever there was one.
“One week really is too short,” Jesse remarked to Michael, sitting beside her on a pavilion ledge. As always, Saturday morning and the departure of the campers was bittersweet. Where had the week gone? It was over so soon.
“I think I’d like to work at a real summer camp, where the kids stay the whole summer,” she said.
Although he was thinking it, Michael did not say that those camps were for rich kids, as someone else might. She already knew this, of course, but in her world such considerations could not enter.
“It would be harder to say goodbye at the end,” he said instead.
“That’s something to think about,” she conceded, “but just think of the fun you could have! The way we have it set up, you spend half the week just trying to remember everyone’s name! Nobody’s really comfortable with each other until at least Thursday, and just when you’re starting to feel like you belong , it’s time to go home. They could do so much more with six or eight weeks.”
“And what if you got stuck with a cabin that didn’t get along?” Michael asked with an antagonizing grin. “Sometimes a week is all people can manage to take of each other!” He was thinking of Carrie and Marcy, two among the many campers Jesse had lately admitted to disliking.
If she understood he was using this confidence against her, she did not let on. “If you only have a week,” she said, “all you really have to do is put up with one another. But if you know you have to live together all summer, you have time and a reason to work out the problems. And that’s where you get character development.”
“And are we in the business of character development?” Michael asked reasonably.
“Of course we are! Or if we’re not, we should be. I mean, camp is about more than getting a quick sinner’s prayer out of these kids.”
Michael frowned at this. “A lot of kids’ lives have been changed by a quick ‘sinner’s prayer’, you know. God can still work in them after they leave.”
Jesse sensed the beginning of an argument. “I know that,” she said, “but think of how hard it is for them! You don’t shove a baby out on the street to fend for itself! You feed it and nurture it, you help it grow. The world is a harsh place. Shouldn’t we try to make them as strong as we can before we send them out on their own?”
“I don’t know,” Michael answered gently, trying not to get her angry at him. “I suppose you have a point, but I think cutting off all new Christians from civilization for two months of boot-camp is going a little overboard. There are churches for them, and youth groups, and Sunday School, that God can use to build them up. We’re here to plant the seed. It’s God’s responsibility to make it grow.”
“Then why do so many of them die?” Jesse asked squarely. “You said a lot of kids’ lives are changed in a week, but you were there at testimony campfire as well as I was! You heard what they said, all who stood up. Most of them hardly knew what they were talking about. They won’t make it out there. The ones who decided to follow Jesus, and stuck with it, did it after four or five years of coming to camp. It doesn’t stick after just one week. They get back home and their newfound ‘faith’ is forgotten in a matter of days. So what’s so wrong with wanting to give them a better chance?” She knew she was getting angry, and paused to get control of her emotions before going on firmly but calmly. “I’m not saying every kid in the world needs a whole summer of preaching, or that every kid who gets it is going to become a super-Christian. But it would be worth it for some of them. They need a solid foundation, and we could do a better job of giving it to them if we had more time.”
Michael knew he should just agree with her, if for no other reason than to make her happy. So he didn’t understand why he couldn’t just back down. “If it doesn’t stick after a week, maybe it’s not supposed to stick,” he suggested.
Jesse glared at him.
“God knows which ones are his,” he heard himself saying. “If they fall away after a week at camp, they’ll fall away after two months at camp, although it might take a little longer. The difference is, a week is do-able, whereas a whole summer...”
“Is too expensive,” Jesse finished for him.
Michael grimaced. The conversation had come around to the point he’d been trying to avoid. “Well, yeah,” he admitted.
Jesse looked at him carefully. He offered no resistance to her heavy perusal. Eventually she looked away and sighed. “You’re right,” she admitted. “It would be expensive. It’s not practical at all. But I don’t care what else you say, that’s the only good argument you have against it.” She looked at him arrogantly. “You know very well that I know a longer camp isn’t going to change God’s plan, and you know that’s not what I’m trying to do. You just wanted a good debate. You’d like my idea of a summer camp as much as I do, if you thought about it for a while. It is a good idea.”
Chin tilted up confidently, she tucked a contrary strand of hair behind her ear and closed her eyes. Looking at her like that, he felt the fight go out of him.
“It’s a beautiful dream,” he said.
She opened one eye to see if he was teasing her, and saw that he wasn’t, so she closed it again. She leaned her head back to stop a yawn. “I know it is,” she said sleepily.
“I’ll bet you have a lot of beautiful dreams.”
Her sense of serenity lost, Jesse squirmed at the comment. He had a way of getting a little too personal sometimes. Well, she wasn’t going to hide anything from him; he’d get exactly what he asked for. “When I’m awake, yes.” she stated. Let him take what he would from that.
At that moment, a camper called out to her. Jesse immediately swung her legs down from the ledge and ran off, crying “Emma!” to say a tearful farewell.
Michael watched her say goodbye, and then go off to busy herself elsewhere - away from him, he noted. Sensing a movement on his right, he looked over to see Keith, leaning on the ledge from outside the pavilion. “How long you been there?”
Keith ignored the question. “You are one brave man,” he said, watching Jesse just as Michael had been. His voice was teasing but also filled with unmistakable respect.
“You’ve lost me,” said Michael.
Keith met his look with a purpose. “Don’t give me that lip. You know what I’m talking about,” he said sanguinely.
Michael grinned. “I’m innocent, I tell you,” he said, spreading his arms. “Tell me what you’re up to - I can’t talk unless I understand you, and right now I don’t.”
“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true,” Keith said, as if there were no question about it.
“We do?”
Keith looked at him incredulously. “Man, she could have chewed you up and spit you out right there! Don’t know why she didn’t, personally. She’s tolerating you, for now, but try to get much closer, and she’ll snap. I mean it,” he said fervently. “She might like you, and God only knows why, but she’s been bit once and she’s not gonna get herself hurt again.”
Michael frowned. “We’re friends.”
“And I’d keep it that way, if I were you,” Keith advised.
“You don’t think that’s what I want?” Michael asked.
Keith gave him a look that said, ‘don’t insult my intelligence, please’, and Michael couldn’t help but grin. Keith was not amused. “Hurts like that don’t heal overnight. And she’ll take that anger out on somebody, probably whoever’s in arms reach. You wanna volunteer yourself?”
“Well...if that’s what she needs...”
“Like I said,” Keith nodded slowly, “you’re a brave man. An idiot, maybe, but definitely a brave one.”
“Well, thanks, I think,” said Michael.
“Don’t mention it,” Keith said generously. Their conversation was short and sweet, to the point, not drawn out and uncomfortable. It was over before it really started, and they moved on to something else.
Neither of them noticed Jasmine. She watched them from a mere 20 feet away, clutching a pair of shoes intended for the lost and found. She’d seen everything. Michael and Jesse’s easy closeness, their heated debate, their playful teasing. Their voices carried, as though they didn’t care who heard them. It left a bitterness in her soul and a similar taste in her mouth. Why?! she cried inside. Why couldn’t it be her? Didn’t she deserve that little bit of happiness? But no, Jesse had to get everything she wanted. She saw Michael talking to Keith when Jesse left, not hearing their words because they spoke quietly, but knowing who they were about, because they kept looking at her. Always the centre of attention, wasn’t she? It didn’t matter anymore whether or not she did it on purpose; Jasmine hated her for it. She was jealous. She easily admitted that to herself; she was used to jealousy. She felt it every time a pretty girl walked by. But her hatred had been hidden deep in her heart, growing stronger with every day she nursed what she’d thought to be jealousy, and only now did she recognize it for what it was. Yes, she hated Jesse. She hated her, and she didn’t care. She gave one longing glance at Michael’s eyes, which were oblivious to hers, and stalked off.
Kaimi had gotten rid of their last camper, and then followed Jasmine out to see if she could help find the owner of the unclaimed shoes. As Jasmine was eavesdropping, Kaimi was close enough to see her reaction. She sighed sympathetically. She knew the girl had a crush on Michael, though she hadn’t yet been able to get her to talk to her about it, and maybe she never would. It was a challenge, working with someone so closed off, so guarded. She hadn’t been able to make her open up yet, but she felt like she should keep trying. If Jesse gave her the choice, she would ask if she could keep Jasmine on as an assistant for next week. She would do what she could.