Was Legend sleeping? I sure wasn’t. I was too busy thinking.
Now, the following is way too deep for me to understand—but my old English teacher, Ms. Donatello, once said I have the ability to go from denial to acceptance, and that it’s a gift. (Maybe your mom can explain that one to you—or maybe one of your teachers can. I sure can’t.)
The point is, I was now certain that very bad things were in store for me and my friends at good old Camp Wannamorra. I accepted that fact.
So I just lay there in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, wondering what to do about it. Well, I was actually staring at the bottom of Booger Eater’s mattress in the dark. Assuming Norman got his nickname for a reason, I could only hope he was more of an Eater than a Flicker. I’m no scientist, but even I know what gravity will do to something that gets flicked off a top bunk, with me down there on the bottom.
Finally, I couldn’t stand all this thinking anymore. I grabbed my flashlight, got up, and went outside to the bathroom.
At Camp Wannamorra, the bathroom was called the latrine. This one was more like a concrete bunker, with showers, toilets, and sinks. You had to walk through the woods to get there, which was a whole new thing for me.
And I don’t mean I had to use the bathroom. I just wanted to go there. I’ve always had pretty good luck getting privacy in bathrooms.
It was also the first chance I had to really talk to Leo.
If you know me, then you’ve been wondering where old Leo’s been all this time. And if you asked my mother that question, she’d say something corny but true. She’d point at my chest, where my heart is, and say that Leo is always there with me.
But if you’re sitting there thinking What the heck is this guy talking about, and who is this Leo person? then I should catch you up.
Let’s see, how do I say this without sounding too weird? Leo was my twin brother, my absolute best friend when we were little. He got sick and ended up dying. After that, I always wondered what it would be like if he were still around, and it just kept going from there. That’s why I have conversations with Leo all the time, inside my head.
Okay, never mind. There’s no way to tell you that without it sounding weird.
For the record—I’m not embarrassed about Leo. I still think of him as my friend, besides also being my brother who died. But when you’re at a summer camp, and you’re living with seven other guys every minute of the day, there’s not a whole lot of room for conversations with people who aren’t actually there.
And that’s what I wanted to talk to Leo about.
“Sorry I haven’t been around much,” I told Leo.
“It’s all right,” Leo said. “But we need to talk about this jerk Doolin. What are we going to do about him?”
“That’s the thing, Leo,” I said. “I’ve been thinking maybe I need to start figuring out some of this stuff on my own.”
“What for?” Leo said. “I’ve already got a couple of awesome ideas.”
Leo always has good ideas. In fact, once he gets started, it’s hard to get him to stop. It’s not like he needs sleep or anything.
“It’s just… I don’t think the guys in my cabin would understand,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” Leo said. “You’re probably right. Not everybody can understand about us.”
“Don’t be mad,” I told him.
“I’m not mad.”
He was mad.
“I just need to keep all this stuff dialed down for a little while,” I said. “It’s only eight weeks.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, fine. I get it,” Leo said. “Good luck with all that.”
That’s the other thing about Leo. He’s kind of touchy. But I was going to have to worry about that later. I already had enough on my plate to deal with.
Real stuff first.
Sorry, Leo.
