Things I Can't Forget by Miranda Kenneally Page B

smoke cigarettes by the lake every night, but I can’t share one dance with Matt?
    “It’s fine,” I tell Matt. “I’m sorry,” I tell Megan, then head over to DJ again. I change the music to rap and all the kids start jumping around in a mosh pit.
    Matt goes back to pouring punch. He talks to Andrea, Ian, and Carlie, laughing with them, but Megan doesn’t seem to mind. It’s okay for them to socialize on the clock. If Megan pisses Carlie off, Carlie could put in a bad word with her mom, ensuring Megan doesn’t get the job at the regional conference.
    Maybe it’s a good thing they’re trying to keep me away from Matt. It’s not like I’ve had the best judgment in the past. What if I end up sinning again? I don’t think I’m the kind of girl who’d ever end up pregnant, but like I told Parker, one thing leads to another.
    Last night when I thought of Matt, my skin flushed. The thought of his woodsy cologne makes my stomach leap into my throat. Being around him makes my body go hot everywhere.
    That dance with Matt just might have been the best moment of my life.
    •••
    On Friday morning, before the campers leave for home, we all go to Woodsong Chapel for morning devotion. Megan tells the campers we have twenty minutes to sit and think about God and pray or do whatever we want, so long as we’re silent.
    I decide not to go to the altar, but to bury my face between my knees and stare at the ants marching through the dirt between my flip-flops. To God, we’re all ants.
    I stare up at the sunlight filtering through the trees and wonder how Emily could question whether God exists. This place is perfect. How could any of it be possible without a God?
    He speaks to people here.
    I examine my hand. It’s perfect. Five fingers that allow me to touch, grasp, feel, move, hold, rub, test. How could something so perfect have come into being without God making it so?
    None of the campers have approached the altar—no one wants to be first, but then I see Matt stand and make his way past the log benches. He tips onto his knees and his cross necklace swings like a pendulum as he bows his head. I really want to know what he prays about. Who does he pray for?
    After morning devotion, we walk the campers back to the welcome pavilion, where we’ll see them off. Everyone is exchanging email addresses and signing T-shirts and hugging good-bye.
    I wrap my arms around Claire. “Go to some dances for me this year, okay?”
    “I will,” she whispers. “Jackson asked for my email address!”
    “Nice!” I say.
    When I hug Sophie good-bye, I tell her how much her decoupage vase impressed me. “Stick with art, okay?”
    She smiles. “I will.”
    Then I spot Matt on one knee, speaking quietly with Quincy, the boy who played DJ last night. Matt takes off his wood chip nametag and hands it to him. The little boy puts it around his neck, smiling. I quietly step toward them and see that a phone number is written on the other side. I have no idea what they talked about this week, what sort of bond they formed, but I want to bottle the look on Matt’s face.
    By noon, all of the campers have left to go home and I’m standing here, looking at the empty green field. Thinking about how some parts of this week weren’t that great, but a lot of it rocked. I smile, reliving the dance with Matt, remembering the cheeseburgers I made all by myself, thinking about how Claire grew more confident this week.
    I ran outside again. On actual grass!
    All in only a week.
    Megan toots her whistle. “Everybody gather around me…You need to be back here by six p.m. on Sunday evening, to prepare for Monday. Kate and Parker, if you could please be here by five p.m., Eric will give you some pointers on starting fires and first aid.”
    Parker and I catch each other’s eyes, and we nod at Megan.
    “Great first week, guys,” Megan says with a smile, and everyone cheers.
    Everyone goes to pack up their cabins and clean. By the time I get my