A week goes by, then two. Each day here is a different reparative therapy session, a different exercise, a different lesson.
There are classroom sessions where we work from workbooks like the ones in French class back home, only instead of conjugating verbs en Français, we have to identify Jim and Sally’s Father Wounds, dress them in gender-appropriate outfits, and read about them in different social situations and describe how, if we were their friends, we would help them “stay accountable.”
There are days where the boys and girls are separated, where they teach us girls how to style our hair and put on makeup in “acceptably feminine” ways, and teach the boys the rules of football and how to do basic household repairs.
And there’s lots of praying and there’s lots of Bible study.
Some nights Kaylee gets out her guitar and leads us all in sing-alongs around the campfire. She’s amazing—she’s got a gorgeous voice and she plays the guitar like Joni Mitchell. Even though we’re singing songs like “Here I Am To Worship” and “How Great Is Our God” (if it were up to me, we’d be singing something by The Swell Season or Mates of State instead), these are some of my favorite moments at New Horizons.
While there’s an obvious theme to the way the camp is conducted, the exercises are still, somehow, always surprising. The New Horizons staff has us going from day to day blindly, not knowing what’s going to happen from one minute to the next. I feel like I’m blindfolded and lashing out at a piñata—who knows if I’ll hit it, when I’ll hit it, or what’s inside.
I’m even starting to look a little different. Brianna has us giving ourselves manicures and pedicures every other day, so my usually naked nails are now perpetually shellacked in pink, and my hair is getting longer, my boring, light brown roots growing in.
I’ve been worrying about my mom more and more too. I hate not knowing how she’s doing. I’m trying to have faith that she’s still riding the high that came with my agreeing to come here and that Pastor Joe and the rest of the congregation are helping her out with anything she might need, but I’d still feel a lot better if I could call or write to her.
So one night at dinner, I finally work up the nerve to ask Mr. Martin if I can use the phone.
“I’d really like to check and make sure my mother is doing okay,” I explain.
He studies me, running a hand back over his thinning hair. “You understand we only let our campers use the phone in case of emergencies, right?”
I nod. “Because too much contact with the outside world can be a detriment to our therapy.”
“That’s correct.”
“But I do think this qualifies as an emergency. My mother hasn’t been well since my father died, and I think I would be better able to concentrate on our work here if I weren’t worrying about her so much.”
Mr. Martin nods. “Very well. Brianna will escort you to use the phone after supper.”
A balloon pops inside me and relief whooshes out, filling me head to toe. “Thank you, Mr. Martin.”
After dinner, I sit in his office with Brianna, the phone to my ear. It rings and rings, but there’s no answer. When the voicemail message kicks on, I hang up and try again. Same thing. Where could she be? I leave a message, asking her to call the camp and let someone know she’s okay.
Oh God, please let her be okay.
But soon, twenty-four hours have gone by, then thirty-six, and I still haven’t heard anything. I’m praying more than I ever have and on the verge of collapsing into full-on panic. What if she’s in the hospital? What if she’s dead? What if I’m already all alone in the world and don’t even know it?
I don’t ask to use the phone again though. And I don’t tell anyone what’s going on. Because if I say it out loud and transfer my fears onto other people, it will become way more real. It will go from a series of worries swimming around in my head to an actual possibility.
Passing the book back and forth with Carolyn is the only thing keeping me grounded. It’s my lifeline—something to look forward to, something good I know is going to happen.
And then, at dinner two nights after I called home, Brianna comes down from the main cabin and tells me I’ve received a message.
I can’t move.
“You mother called,” she says. “She said she’s just returned from a camping trip and didn’t get your message until now, but she’s doing fine.” She walks away and gets on the food line.
The noise that comes out of me is part sob, part gasp, part screech. My eyes are wet and my throat is bone-dry all in the same instant. She’s not dead. She’s doing fine.
My whole body starts to shake as all the fear and panic I’ve tried to hold at bay for the past two days is let go and crashes head first into the relief and happiness still trying to grab hold inside me. I start to cry.
Mom is okay.
Carolyn, Daniel, and Matthew are watching me, silent and stunned.
“I’m sorry,” I say, gasping for air, desperately trying to calm down. What was Mom doing camping anyway? She doesn’t camp. She barely leaves the house.
“What’s going on, Lexi?” Matthew asks.
And so, when I’ve finally got myself under control, I tell them about my mom. They’ve never asked about her—I get the feeling it’s because after finding out that my dad died, they didn’t want to upset me by asking any more family-related questions. But I want them to know, so I tell them about how she lost it when Dad died and lost it even more when she found out I was gay. “So, when it comes down to it,” I say, “this is my last chance. If New Horizons doesn’t work the way I need it to, I’m going to end up completely alone.”
They all go quiet as they let that sink in. I guess no one knows what to say, but their silence is just as revealing as any words they could come up with. Because no one, not even Matthew, says that I’m doing the wrong thing.
One day the counselors scatter our groups across the carpet cabin so we’re not in each other’s way, and Mr. Martin joins our group. Even though we can’t be any more interesting than any of the other groups, he always seems to find his way over to us. My theory is that it’s because Matthew continues to be just as defiant about the whole de-gayifying process as he was on day one and Mr. Martin wants to keep an eye on him.
“We’re going to do another role-playing exercise today,” he tells us. “I call it Observe and Correct. We don’t always realize that our words and body language can have unintended subtext. This exercise will help you become more aware of the subconscious signals you are giving off to others, so you can work on correcting those behaviors. So what we’re going to do is play out short scenarios where you will interact with a camper of the same sex while your fellow group members watch. Afterward, they’ll point out what you did wrong. Any questions?”
Matthew opens his mouth but I shake my head at him, and he closes it again.
“Carolyn and Lexi, you’re up,” Mr. Martin says.
Carolyn and I stand, and Mr. Martin tells us to pretend we’re in a department store. I’m the shopper and Carolyn is the salesperson.
I start pretend browsing through clothes racks, and Carolyn taps my shoulder.
“May I help you find something?” she asks.
“Um, sure. I’m looking for…a dress for a cousin’s wedding.” It seems like something Mr. Martin would want me to say.
“I can help you with that. Do you have a color in mind?”
“I don’t know…black?”
“Okay.” She holds up an invisible hanger and looks at me. “This would look great on you. The sheath style would work well with your figure and the satin material would perfectly complement your skin. Plus, the little rhinestones along the neckline would really make your eyes pop.”
Okay, hold on.
My “figure,” my skin, my eyes…she didn’t have to say any of that. She could have said, “Here’s a dress. Buy it. The end.” But instead, she said…more.
“Um, yes,” I say, trying to stay in the moment. “That sounds good. I’ll try it on. Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime,” she says and gives me a little smile.
“So,” Mr. Martin says, “what could Lexi and Carolyn have done differently?”
“Maybe they could have stood further apart?” Daniel says. Carolyn immediately sidesteps away from me.
“Yes. Remember to always respect other people’s personal space,” Mr. Martin says. “You two were a little bit too close.”
We were? It didn’t feel like it. But then again, I feel like I’m never close enough to Carolyn.
“What else?” Mr. Martin asks.
“I think Lexi should have picked a color other than black,” Daniel says.
“I agree,” Mr. Martin says. “Try to choose something more feminine next time.”
“What, like pink?” I say.
“Not necessarily. It could be white or yellow or purple.” He turns to Matthew. “What do you think, Matthew? What else could Carolyn and Lexi have done differently?”
“Nothing. I think they did great.”
Mr. Martin narrows his eyes at Matthew, but all he says is, “What about what the words Carolyn chose to use?”
“She sounded like a salesperson,” Matthew says.
“Yes, she did a very good job taking on the persona of her character. But the rules are different for people who battle SSA. We need to watch what we say and do much more carefully than those who don’t have this struggle. So even though the average saleswoman may have said exactly what Carolyn said, it would have been a wiser choice for Carolyn to stay away from complimenting Lexi so directly.”
No it wouldn’t! That was the best part!
I sneak a sideways glance at Carolyn and catch her watching me for the tiniest fragment of a second before she whips her gaze away.
“Can I try again?” she asks Mr. Martin. There’s a hint of desperation in her voice.
Mr. Martin checks his watch. “Unfortunately, we actually need to be moving on. Matthew and Daniel, please switch places with the ladies.”
Carolyn’s noticed me. She was basically telling me she thinks I’m pretty. And just now, she was staring at me. I’m sure of it.
Is it even possible? Could she be feeling it too? Does she think about me the way I’m always thinking about her?
After dinner, we have free time. It’s Saturday night, so we even get a couple of extra hours. But as we make our way over to the rec cabin, Brianna approaches us.
“Matthew,” she says, “Mr. Martin would like to see you in his office.”
Matthew’s brows pull together. “Why?”
“He has a few things he’d like to discuss with you,” Brianna says. “It won’t take long. You’ll be back here with your friends soon enough.” Her voice is all business, but her face betrays a hint of something I can’t quite place—unease? Regret, maybe? It’s strange.
But Matthew just shrugs and trudges off through the trees toward the main cabin.
“I wonder what that was all about,” I say once the rest of us are inside the rec cabin. It feels weird with Matthew not here. The four of us are together so often that it feels like we’re suddenly missing a limb.
“No idea,” Daniel says.
Carolyn doesn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything at dinner either. She’s been getting like this more and more—spaced out, eyes unfocused, lost deep in her own mind. More like Mom.
Daniel chooses a DVD from the shelf and we sit and watch the beginning of The Wizard of Oz. By the time Dorothy lands in Munchkinland, Matthew is back.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“Mr. Martin ‘isn’t happy with the level of effort I’ve been contributing to our therapy exercises,’” he says, doing air quotes.
I smile. “You’ve been contributing zero effort.”
Matthew grins back. “That’s what I told him. My dad can force me to be here, but no one can force me to actually believe in all this crap.”
I stare at the TV screen. The coroner is averring that the witch is really, most sincerely dead, but I’m not really watching it. I still don’t know if I believe in all this crap or not. It’s all so complicated.
But then Matthew changes the subject and I’m saved from having to come up with a response. “So anyway…” he says, “when I got to Mr. Martin’s office, he wasn’t there yet. So I thought I’d look around for a bit.”
I turn back to him, and he’s looking at me with a sly smile.
“What?” I say.
“Look what I found,” he says and slips a small bottle of vodka out of his shorts’ pocket.
I immediately glance around the cabin. Barbara is dozed off in one of the big armchairs and Kaylee is playing Scrabble with Jasmine’s group. The other campers are either watching the movie or off doing their own things. No one is watching us.
“You took that from Mr. Martin’s office?” I whisper to Matthew. “Are you crazy?”
Matthew shrugs. “Probably. But I think it’s about time we have some fun around here, don’t you?”
“No.” I shake my head fiercely. “You’re insane.”
Matthew just smiles, slips the bottle back in his pocket, and goes over to the snack table. He grabs a few bottles of water and then says, “Hey, Daniel, Carolyn, want to go get some fresh air?”
“Sure,” Daniel says, “I’ve seen this movie a hundred times already anyway.”
Carolyn shrugs and follows Matthew and Daniel out of the cabin.
Great, now I have to go. If I stay here, people will notice our group has split up, and they’ll tell the counselors and the counselors will find out what Matthew, Carolyn, and Daniel are up to, and they’ll all get in a lot of trouble. Damn you, Matthew.
I locate them around the corner of the cabin. It’s a fairly hidden spot, tucked into a little crook of trees. No one will find us here unless they’re really looking.
“Are we even allowed to be back here?” I ask.
“All Brianna said was that we had to stay within sight of the rec cabin,” Matthew says. He reaches out and taps his palm against the exterior cabin wall. “And we are.”
“What’s going on?” Carolyn asks.
“Look what I found,” Matthew says and reveals the bottle.
Daniel’s eyes go wide, and Carolyn whispers, “Where did you get that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Matthew says. He transfers the vodka into an empty water bottle and then hurls the vodka bottle so deep into the woods that we don’t even hear it land. He takes a big sip and then holds it out to Daniel. “You in?”
Daniel looks like he thinks it’s a trick question.
“I’m in,” Carolyn says immediately. She grabs the bottle from Matthew’s hand and takes a swig. Her face crumples up as she tastes the liquor, but she swallows it like a champ.
God, I’m really giving into peer pressure today. But if my two best friends at New Horizons are going to get drunk, there’s no way I’m just going to sit back and watch while they have all the fun.
“All right, I’m in,” I say and take the bottle from Carolyn.
“Thought you might say that,” Matthew says as I drink. I’ve never had vodka before, just beer at parties and the odd glass of mulled wine at Christmas. The vodka is warm and tastes like what I imagine lighter fluid would probably taste like. It burns, but once it’s down, my belly is warm and my head is light. It actually feels pretty good.
“What about you, Daniel?” Matthew says.
Daniel looks at each of us, the pink light of the sunset catching the lenses of his glasses. “Um…” he says.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I say. “It’s okay.”
He hesitates a moment more and then says, “No, I do want to.” He takes a small sip from the bottle, swallows, and coughs like crazy.
We sit on the grass floor in a little circle and pass the bottle around. I try to pace myself by only taking a sip every other time the bottle comes around to me and drinking a lot of water in between, but before I know it, I’m drunk. Turns out vodka is a lot stronger than beer and mulled wine.
I stretch my legs out in front of me and kick off my stupid sandals. “I hate these fucking clothes,” I say, and the three of them burst into laughter.
“Are we a little drunk, Alexis?” Matthew says, in a perfect mimic of Brianna’s voice.
“God, don’t call me that!” I groan. “And how could you tell?” I thought I was doing a pretty good job of acting normal.
“I’ve never heard you curse before,” Matthew says.
“Curse? What, like cuss?” I say.
“Yes, Miss South Carolina, cuss. Swear. Use naughty language. Whatever.”
“I actually know Miss South Carolina,” I say. “Her name’s Patricia.”
They all crack up again. What, I’m not that funny when I’m drunk, am I?
“I’ve never been drunk before,” Daniel says, slurring his words a little.
“We know,” Matthew says and gives Daniel a little pat on the back. “What do you think?”
“It’s different than I thought it would be. It feels like…like I’m floating in a river made of honey.”
We all laugh. “Not an entirely inaccurate description,” I say. “I’m surprised you even wanted to join in on this, Daniel. You know we’re breaking the rules right now, right?”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m following the rules in a way too!”
“How do you mean?” Matthew asks.
“I’m not being a Kitchen Window Boy. I’m doing what Mr. Martin said to do—I’m joining my friends in the fun.”
There’s a momentary silence, and I’m pretty sure we’re all thinking the same thing: that’s the first time Daniel’s described us as his friends. He’s one of us now, even if he is only drinking because he thinks Mr. Martin would want him to.
Matthew smiles. “So the river made of honey—is it a good feeling or a bad feeling?”
“Oh, it’s definitely good,” Daniel says. “It’s like…if I don’t want to think about something, I don’t have to think about it. The thought just goes away.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Carolyn says and takes another huge gulp.
“What are you trying not to think about?” I ask her.
She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Wait. Does Carolyn have a secret? Is it the thing she thinks about when she’s off in la-la land? What could be so big that she can’t even talk to us about it when she’s drunk? She’s already told the whole camp about her cousin sexually harassing her—what could be worse than that?
I catch Matthew’s eye. “Hey, Lexi,” he says, making it clear that he’s changing the conversation for Carolyn’s benefit. “Tell us about your tattoo.”
The request catches me off guard, and the first reaction my vodka-delayed senses come up with is to laugh.
“What did I say?” Matthew says, confused.
I just shake my head, still laughing. “You wanna know about this?” I slide the clunky bangle off my arm and hold up my tattooed wrist.
“Um…I guess?” Matthew looks unsure now, after my reaction.
Screw it. Carolyn doesn’t want to talk about her stuff? Fine. But I have nothing to hide anymore. “Okay, here’s the story. I got this tattoo because of a girl named Zoë Green.”
I tell them the about the rainstorm and the plants and the lightning and how I had to keep it all secret.
I run a hand through my hair. “I had all these…these feelings, and I couldn’t tell anyone, and it was killing me. I had to get it out somehow. So I got this.” I hold out my lightning bolt again. “At least I could share this with the world.”
“So nothing ever happened with you two?” Carolyn asks.
I look at her and a crazy idea takes hold of me. I smile mysteriously and say, “Well, I didn’t say that…”
I know it’s stupid. There’s no point in trying to make her jealous. This whole situation is freaking impossible; it’s not like we’ll ever be more than friends. But I’m feeling loopy and can’t help myself.
“Ooh, now it’s getting good,” Matthew says, leaning forward. “What happened?”
“Yeah, what happened?” Daniel echoes.
Everyone’s staring at me, waiting eagerly for the story’s salacious conclusion.
Oh God. I should have kept my fat mouth shut. I should have said, Nope, nothing ever happened with us. End of story. But I didn’t. So now I have to tell them.
“We were at this party…” I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and tell them the rest.
It was last summer. After secretly being in love with Zoë for almost an entire year, I got the chance I never thought I would see. There was a big end-of-summer bash at Vinny’s house, and we were playing Spin the Bottle. Most people there were pretty drunk. Except for me. With Dad sick at home, I didn’t want to do anything to stress my parents out more, so I volunteered to be the DD. Perfect excuse to stay sober.
I spun the bottle, and in that never-ending moment where all you can do is wait to see where it settles, I wished and prayed and projected every last bit of energy I had into that beer bottle with the torn label landing on Zoë Green.
The rules of the game were that you had to kiss whoever it landed on. The guys seemed to have more of a problem with that rule than most of the girls did. Whenever a guy spun it and it landed on another guy, they would just do a jokey, quick peck on the cheek and then laugh hysterically for about five minutes. I think the only reason they played the game at all was so they could get a chance to make out with the cheerleaders. I didn’t blame them. The only reason I was playing was to get a chance to make out with Zoë.
It couldn’t have been a more perfect situation. This was my one chance to kiss her—the one thing I wanted more than anything—without having to confess my secret. In the world of this drunken party game, I could actually have it both ways. Even for just a few precious seconds.
And it actually worked. The bottle came to a halt and was pointing directly at Zoë.
I crawled across the circle, my heart pounding so intensely I thought for sure everyone would hear it, and touched my lips to hers. Her mouth was soft, and she tasted like beer and Starbursts. And it felt so right. As if the stars had finally aligned just for me and her, and this moment existed only for us.
And she was kissing me back. She was into it just as much as I was. Her tongue even slipped inside my mouth a few times.
I slid closer to her, our mouths moving in perfect harmony. I completely forgot about the room full of people watching us, and that we were just playing a game, and that Zoë was only kissing me because she was drunk. In that moment, I even forgot about all the reasons why we would never get to be together.
I was just so happy.
Zoë finally pulled away, and I came back to the room. She downed the rest of her beer and popped another Starburst in her mouth. The boys were all cheering like the two of us making out was the greatest thing they’d ever seen in their lives, and Zoë licked her lips and grinned at them.
“Now it’s a party!” she shouted and high-fived a bunch of the guys as a new wave of cheers sounded.
After that, everything changed. Suddenly the world was filled with magic. For days, all I did was think about that kiss—that perfect, life-changing kiss. She kissed me back.
A few days later, we were hanging out in her room. School was starting the next day and I was supposed to be helping her find something to wear for the first day of junior year. But I wasn’t doing a very good job of staying focused.
“What are you smiling about?” Zoë asked, amused.
I looked up from the elaborate doodle I was working on in one of her notebooks, my cheeks suddenly on fire. “Nothing.” I shook my head.
“Tell me!”
“It’s nothing.”
She flopped down on the bed beside me. “You like someone, don’t you?”
Her face was bright and her smile was knowing—it was like she knew what I was thinking and she just wanted me to say it aloud. And I wanted to, more than anything. I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head and all I wanted was to lean over and close the distance between us and kiss her again, right there on her bed, just the two of us. No cheering crowds this time.
And suddenly all that want and the memories of the kiss and her teasing smile and the year of suffering in silence all got to be too much. I couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“Actually, yeah,” I said softly. “I do like someone.”
Zoë squealed and scooted closer to me. “I knew it! Who? Who is it?”
And before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and kissed her.
She pulled back almost immediately. “What…?” But her question went unfinished. She just looked at me with wide, bewildered eyes.
There was no backing out now. “It’s you,” I said, ignoring the instinct to flee. “You’re the one I like. It’s…it’s been going on a long time.” She was still speechless, her forehead crinkled like a Shar Pei puppy’s. “I know it’s a lot. I never even considered telling you before this weekend. But after we kissed at Vinny’s party, I thought…maybe…you might feel the same way? About me?”
I waited, my heart racing, my fingernails digging into my palms.
Slowly, Zoë’s face changed. The surprise and confusion left and was replaced by the kind of look that’s usually reserved for watching someone get hacked to death with a chainsaw in a horror movie.
“You thought I was gay? That’s so gross,” she said, effectively slicing my heart in two. “Why would you think that?” She backed away from me, not even bothering to hide her disgust.
“I…um…” I stuttered, trying to rearrange my thoughts into something resembling coherence. “I thought…um…didn’t you kiss me back?”
Her nose scrunched up in revulsion. “That was a game, Lexi. We were drunk. It was a show for the guys. I can’t believe you thought it was real! Oh my God.”
Slice, slice. My heart was officially in pieces.
“I can’t believe this.” She ran her hands through her hair and then looked at me, her eyes hard. “You know we can’t be friends anymore.”
We stared at each other for a long second, so many emotions zapping between us that it would be impossible to count them all.
“Get out of my house,” she said. “Get out!”
And then I ran. Out of her room, out of her house, out of her life forever.
See, that’s the problem with getting hit by lightning. You get burned.