FIFTEEN

AFTER OUR FIRST MOVIE OF the night (Grease—Kaylan’s choice) we’re back out on Kaylan’s front porch, covered in afghans her grandma knit years ago. Her mom is home and going up to bed, and we’re snacking on a big bag of popcorn she picked up at the movie theater for us.

The air still smells like summer—like citronella candles and wet mud. It’s hard to believe that school is starting so soon, that the next time we have a summer I’ll have already had my bat mitzvah, and we’ll be going into eighth grade.

“So Camp Silver . . . ,” Kaylan starts. “People just go back summer after summer? Does it get boring or anything?”

“No, it’s the best. People just love being together, and being there, and they wouldn’t want to be any other place in the summer. It’s like they all savor every second.” I stand up, tuck my legs underneath me, and cover myself with the blanket. “I’m mad I didn’t start when I was younger like all of my other friends. I missed out on so much.”

Kaylan’s mouth drops. “Ari! That’s so rude. You’re saying the summers we spent together didn’t mean anything to you!”

I hesitate a second, and my heartbeat speeds up, like I need to defend myself. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I love being with you in Brookside. Obvs. It’s just that camp is awesome, too, and I didn’t even realize how great it was.”

“Uh-huh.” Kaylan rolls her eyes. “You wish you could live at camp! If you had a choice between being here with me or being at camp—what would you choose?”

I shake my head. “Not a fair question.”

“So is a fair question. You just don’t want to answer.”

I laugh. “Kay-Kay. Chill.”

“If I had a dollar for every time you told me that, I could buy my own camp!” She stands up and stretches her legs.

“All right. Not a bad plan.” We crack up for a few minutes.

“Let’s go back inside for the next movie.” I stand up and grab her hand. “I need to warm up a little.”

Back in the house, we make some hot chocolate and cozy up for our second movie of the night (Wet Hot American Summer—my choice). I picked this one because I think (or hope) that it will give Kaylan more of an understanding of the summer camp experience. It’s true this movie is supposed to take place in the 1980s, though, and it’s not so much like my time at Camp Silver. But close enough. Also, it’s hilarious.

“I just don’t get why people pay money to live in dirty wooden cabins, all crammed in together, and eat bad food and then do activities they’re forced to do, even if they don’t want to,” Kaylan says after the movie is over. “Like why is any of that fun?”

I sit up straight on the couch, tucking my feet underneath my legs. “Because you’re with amazing people, and you’re outside, and it’s basically only kids there, no parents, and you get to stay up late, and you really learn more about yourself, and at Camp Silver, you get to, like, do Jewish stuff but it’s actually fun and kind of comes alive there.”

Kaylan crinkles her eyebrows like she’s trying to figure out what I’m saying. “I’m hearing you, and I’m so glad you love it, but I still don’t get it.” She tilts her head to the side. “Why would you want to have to wait for your turn to shower? And then scrape all the food waste into a big bin? Gross.”

“It’s okay if you don’t get it, Kay.” I stretch my arms above my head and rub my eyes. It’s almost three in the morning, and we still have four more hours to wait until the sun rises. “Honestly, I’m okay with you not getting it. I just like telling you about it.”

“Sure?” she asks. “I can keep trying to get it.”

“It’s okay. For real.”

I wonder if our friendship can still be as strong as it was if I don’t share all of this with her. Will it be like there’s this huge divide between us? Like I’m on one side of a river and she’s on another side? Eventually the river will keep getting wider and wider and will we really be able to reach other again?

I don’t know for sure.

Somehow we make it to the sunrise, but I must admit—it’s harder than I thought it was going to be. The movies and the snacks helped us stay awake. And a few more dance parties to Kaylan’s Summer Jams mix.

“I’m so tired,” Kaylan whines when we’re back outside but facing the other direction. “Why did we put this on the list again?”

“Because we got so much great talking in, didn’t we? And we had to bond and reconnect after we were apart for so long. And it’s magical to see the sunset and sunrise. All of this goes on without anyone even telling it to. There’s no person pulling the strings. Or some computer. Or a timer. Or anyone having to work to make it happen. It just does. The sun rises in the morning and sets at night, and no matter what’s going on in the world, or in anyone’s personal life, it still happens.” I pause and swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat. I didn’t expect to get choked up by the sunrise. “Doesn’t it make you feel super calm knowing that the sun will always rise and always set? Like, no matter what.”

“Um.” Kaylan stares at me and bursts out laughing. “Not really. Also, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you may have gotten a little cheesier since you got home from camp.”

“Okay.” I lean back against the chair and cozy up under the afghan. “I won’t take it the wrong way, but that may be the only way to take it.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re calm, though. You spend time thinking about the sun rising and setting.” Our eyes meet and then she looks away. “But also, you don’t have so much to be stressed about.”

Her last comment startles me. “What does that mean?”

“Just that your life is pretty chill. So you’re chill.”

“I’m too tired to debate this with you,” I tell her, closing my eyes. “Can we go to sleep after the sun rises?”

“Duh. Of course.”

We stay quiet for a little bit after that, and I think about her comment. I guess my life is pretty chill. But Kaylan also freaks out about nothing so much of the time. She went crazy when people were watching us too closely during freeze dance last summer, and then the whole Tyler thing at first—she was obsessed. And she freaked out when she tore her black stockings on Halloween in fifth grade and said her costume was ruined. I mean, no one was even going to notice the tear.

There has to be a balance somewhere.

We finally see the sun rising and the sky turning orangey pink, and it’s like the whole world is waking up all at once. Everything felt sleepy and dark just a minute ago, and now it’s vibrant and bright and energized.

“I think we should do this more often, Kay,” I tell her as we stumble up the stairs to crawl into her bed. “It’s really a miracle that this happens every day.”

“Uh-huh,” Kaylan says, pulling up her comforter. “Now we sleep. And when we wake up, we JHH.”

“Okay.” I lie there for a little while, thinking about Kaylan and all of her plans—preparing to make mac and cheese, then actually making the mac and cheese, staying up all night, sleeping, even JHHing.

I think when we plan too much, we kind of miss the moment. And then we freak out when things don’t go exactly the way we planned them. Because there’s literally no way for anything to ever go exactly as we plan it. It’s just not possible.

But I’m too tired to get any of these words out of my mouth right now. And Kaylan’s sleeping anyway.

I kind of thought staying up all night with Kaylan right after I got home from camp would make us feel closer, bonded the way we were before I left. But now I’m not so sure that happened.

It’s not like we’re farther apart, really.

We’re just a little uneven.