“What rhymes with seaweed?” I whisper to Syd. I’m staring down at the first line on my page. I realize that a piece about my family’s trip to the Maritimes may not be the easiest topic for my first day in slam poetry class.
Syd doesn’t look up. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Believe? Bereave? Tree leaves?” She turns her shoulder away. She bites down on her lip piercing as she stares at her notebook intensely. I suddenly feel bad for breaking her focus. I want to apologize. But then I’d just be interrupting her again.
I look back down to my own unfinished poem. A pit forms in my stomach. Ever since we spent time with Ams in the recreation shed a few nights back, something’s been off between Syd and me. I hoped that our class together would be fun, but Syd gets weirdly serious when she’s writing. Maybe she’s annoyed with having to babysit a newbie poet like me.
When Syd gets up to perform at the end of class, her words cut through the room like a hot knife. She hits every word with a rough edge that leaves people shaking and unable to look away. I squish my face up at the handful of words I managed to scribble on borrowed notebook paper. Crumpling up my poem, I know there’s no way I can follow her reading. I stay quiet for the rest of the session. After, I duck out while Syd is still packing up.
I’m early to the lineup for lunch but somehow Tessa’s already there. Maddie goes off to try and round up everyone else. She leaves me and Tessa with only an awkward silence standing between us. Eventually, I ask, “So, what’d you do this morning?”
Tessa rolls her eyes at me. I don’t really blame her. She probably thinks I’m setting her up for Syd to harass her somehow. Still, she answers me anyway. “Well, I was with my wind instruments quartet, getting a head start on the showcase.” She pulls at her left braid with defiance. I guess I don’t react how she wants because she rolls her eyes at me again. “Do you know what you’re going to do? You know, for the show?”
“I didn’t even know there was one,” I admit with a laugh. Tessa gives me a flat look. “I guess I’ll figure something out,” I add.
“What stream are you in, anyway?” she asks. “I see you all over camp, always doing something different.”
“Well . . .” Before I can explain my strange scheduling situation, we’re interrupted by a holler from behind us.
“Jassie! Hey!” Syd runs up and swings an arm around my shoulder. “Where’d you go after class? You just disappeared.”
I shrug, my heart a little lighter. She noticed I wasn’t there. That’s something, right? “I just wanted to get to the lineup early,” I fib.
“Smart,” she nods. “Well, we’re here now. I hope we get in quick.” She shoots a look at Tessa.
I can practically taste the tension between Syd and Tessa. Thankfully, Maddie shows up a moment later with the rest of the girls from the cabin. Our wait isn’t too long, since we’ve got our coordinated movements down pat for today’s song. Syd doesn’t even make a scene as Tessa gets ahead of us in line.
“Hey,” says a soft voice at my side. Ams slides over, carrying a tray of sloppy joe mess and nodding toward a table near the back. “Usual spot?”
“You know it!” says Syd. She grins as she gets to the front of the line, her own messy sandwich landing on her plate with an audible slap.
“Hey, isn’t that a guy?” asks a girl next to us, not even bothering to whisper. “Why’s he going with a couple of girls?”
“He’s such a weirdo,” the one next to her laughs. “Maybe he thinks that because he’s gay he doesn’t have to follow the rules.”
I shoot the girls a look. Ams explained to me already that the words ‘he’ or ‘she’ don’t feel like they really fit. Instead, Ams likes to go by ‘they’ or just their name. It wasn’t really that hard, once I got used to it.
I turn back to Ams, wondering if I should say something. But I can’t see their expression under that heavy sweep of black hair. There’s not much time to talk anyway, since Syd leans over to grab Ams. She pulls them toward the table before the girls can say anything else.
I’m just a step behind my friends but I have to wait for one of the cooks to bring out my “alternative” meal. I wish they’d done a recipe for joes that left out the dairy. Thankfully, my burger isn’t that different from everyone else’s lunch. In fact, it looks so similar I have to pause for a moment to pick up the edge of the bun and give it a stare down.
By the time I look up, Ams and Syd are already sitting together. Syd says something that makes Ams break out into a blushing laugh. Then something strange happens. I don’t know how to describe it. I feel my face go hot and my palms begin to sweat. But it’s not in the good way. Not like I usually feel around those two. I try to shove my feelings down to my socks as I walk over to them with a big smile. “What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, it’s no big,” Syd says. Ams looks up at the ceiling, keeping their lips tight. “It’s just one of those you-had-to-be-there things.”
“But . . . I am here,” I try to tell them. But they both ignore me as we start to eat.
The rest of the meal is like that. The two of them keep whispering back and forth, making little giggles. I pretend not to notice as much as I do. I’m starting to get nervous. Are they trying to keep a secret from me? Is this a prank? Or worse, what if now that Syd and Ams are getting along, they’ve figured out they don’t really need me around anymore?
I spend the rest of lunch staring down at my sandwich. I don’t even make a fuss when Syd and Ams scurry off and leave me to do kitchen duty solo.
They’re going to ditch me, I’m sure of it. I’m going to be without any friends at the end of summer after all. I wallow in my worries, wiping the same table over and over until even the cooks get tired of me. It’s just like those teachers said at school. I’m just not properly sociable. I don’t know what’s going on. But I’m sure of one thing. It must be all my fault.