can’t allow it.”
“What’s so wrong with people wanting to communicate?”
Neville laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to communicate. I think you’ll find we encourage it. We’re all about being open, Riley.” He stood and straightened one of the pictures on the wall. “How are you doing here, Riley? How are you finding camp?”
“It’s okay.” I hated the way he kept saying my name.
“Because unlike God, I can’t be everywhere at once, but I’m hearing things. You had some trouble on the canoe trip. There was an incident this morning. Riley?”
Neville was waiting for an explanation. I had nothing rehearsed, but I felt that if I didn’t say something he wouldn’t let me leave.
“I just … I don’t fit in here. Everyone hates me,” I finished lamely.
“Riley. We all have to go through a period of adjustment.”
“Well, I’d rather just go home.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
Neville leaned over his desk. “Look. You’re almost at the halfway mark. I’ll make you a deal. Just for today, try and participate. I mean really participate. If you still feel like this tomorrow—well, we’ll call your father and see if we can’t sort something out.”
Trevor returned carrying a slide tray and an overhead projector.
Neville lit up at the sight of him. “Anyway, you don’t want to miss Trevor’s talk. The domestic life of the malleefowl is a revelation.”
Trevor grinned. Neville grinned. I understood I was being dismissed. I walked out, and just as I was about to hit the rain again I remembered about Dad being away. I went back to remind Neville. I paused outside his door. It was slightly ajar. I stepped silently across and peeked inside—I was a spy at Christian camp! Christian camp confidential!
Neville was sitting behind his desk and Trevor was leaning over, pointing to some paper or other. I could see them grinning, chuckling. It was a warm sound that made me feel lonely. I suddenly realized I was seeing something private. Neville leaned across and kissed Trevor, really kissed him. Like, I could handle a kiss like that (just … not from Neville). I backed away from the door, feeling like there was a whole lot of stuff going on that I just couldn’t see. On the merry-go-round, in the dark, Bird had said that owls are special because they’re the only birds with eyes that face front; I was like all the other birds who can only see out the sides. I wondered what else I had missed.
Why couldn’t I call Chloe? I had so much to tell her. We’d sit by her pool in our undersized bikinis and oversize sunglasses and I’d relay the whole Greek tragedy of infidelity and betrayal and secrets, but then I remembered: this was Chloe—scandal was her stock in trade, she wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Now, if I told Sarita her eyes would bug out and her mouth would pop. She’d get that crazy giggle going. She’d look at me with awe. It occurred to me that I didn’t want to leave with Sarita hating me. I vowed to spend the remainder of the day getting her back in my pocket.
26
A Basically Hostile Environment
I entered the rec room for Trevor’s talk fully prepared to participate, but when I plonked down among the Honey-eaters, the hate was evident. Sarita, Fleur, even the twins reacted like those weighted children’s toys that start off leaning toward you and then swing wildly in the opposite direction. Soon there was enough space around me for a head spin or an epileptic seizure. So I spread out. I crossed my legs swami style and leaned back on my palms. I lifted my chin and smiled Zenly. Only faithful Bird was being nice to me. He scuttled over with a piece of paper.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” I looked down at the paper. “What’s this?”
“A request list. Dylan is going into town this afternoon.”
“Okay,” I said. “What do you need me for?”
“I need you to ask for spark plugs.”
“Why don’t you ask for them?”
“Please,
“What’s so wrong with people wanting to communicate?”
Neville laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to communicate. I think you’ll find we encourage it. We’re all about being open, Riley.” He stood and straightened one of the pictures on the wall. “How are you doing here, Riley? How are you finding camp?”
“It’s okay.” I hated the way he kept saying my name.
“Because unlike God, I can’t be everywhere at once, but I’m hearing things. You had some trouble on the canoe trip. There was an incident this morning. Riley?”
Neville was waiting for an explanation. I had nothing rehearsed, but I felt that if I didn’t say something he wouldn’t let me leave.
“I just … I don’t fit in here. Everyone hates me,” I finished lamely.
“Riley. We all have to go through a period of adjustment.”
“Well, I’d rather just go home.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
Neville leaned over his desk. “Look. You’re almost at the halfway mark. I’ll make you a deal. Just for today, try and participate. I mean really participate. If you still feel like this tomorrow—well, we’ll call your father and see if we can’t sort something out.”
Trevor returned carrying a slide tray and an overhead projector.
Neville lit up at the sight of him. “Anyway, you don’t want to miss Trevor’s talk. The domestic life of the malleefowl is a revelation.”
Trevor grinned. Neville grinned. I understood I was being dismissed. I walked out, and just as I was about to hit the rain again I remembered about Dad being away. I went back to remind Neville. I paused outside his door. It was slightly ajar. I stepped silently across and peeked inside—I was a spy at Christian camp! Christian camp confidential!
Neville was sitting behind his desk and Trevor was leaning over, pointing to some paper or other. I could see them grinning, chuckling. It was a warm sound that made me feel lonely. I suddenly realized I was seeing something private. Neville leaned across and kissed Trevor, really kissed him. Like, I could handle a kiss like that (just … not from Neville). I backed away from the door, feeling like there was a whole lot of stuff going on that I just couldn’t see. On the merry-go-round, in the dark, Bird had said that owls are special because they’re the only birds with eyes that face front; I was like all the other birds who can only see out the sides. I wondered what else I had missed.
Why couldn’t I call Chloe? I had so much to tell her. We’d sit by her pool in our undersized bikinis and oversize sunglasses and I’d relay the whole Greek tragedy of infidelity and betrayal and secrets, but then I remembered: this was Chloe—scandal was her stock in trade, she wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Now, if I told Sarita her eyes would bug out and her mouth would pop. She’d get that crazy giggle going. She’d look at me with awe. It occurred to me that I didn’t want to leave with Sarita hating me. I vowed to spend the remainder of the day getting her back in my pocket.
26
A Basically Hostile Environment
I entered the rec room for Trevor’s talk fully prepared to participate, but when I plonked down among the Honey-eaters, the hate was evident. Sarita, Fleur, even the twins reacted like those weighted children’s toys that start off leaning toward you and then swing wildly in the opposite direction. Soon there was enough space around me for a head spin or an epileptic seizure. So I spread out. I crossed my legs swami style and leaned back on my palms. I lifted my chin and smiled Zenly. Only faithful Bird was being nice to me. He scuttled over with a piece of paper.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” I looked down at the paper. “What’s this?”
“A request list. Dylan is going into town this afternoon.”
“Okay,” I said. “What do you need me for?”
“I need you to ask for spark plugs.”
“Why don’t you ask for them?”
“Please,
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