Page 19 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“No kidding. Bungee cords have become my new best friend.” He stands then and rounds up the four kids to tell them the plan. With them, he’s back to being warm, friendly Noah.

I hate that he feels like he can’t be that warm and friendly with me—but technically, he’s doing exactly as I asked, pretending we’re strangers who have never shared intimate moments that made the world wobble on its axis.

“Look at that,”Noah says. “We didn’t even need the bungee cords.” He’d stashed a set in each vehicle, though, just in case. Because that’s Noah—always prepared.

The Tahoe I’m driving is crammed tight. Luckily, no one else brought as many bags as Derrick, but it was still a challenge to get them all wedged into the back. When my four passengers are strapped in, with Priya riding shotgun, Noah gives me a little salute and strides back inside the door to baggage claim to wait for the rest of the flights to arrive.

“Everybody ready?” I ask.

I’m met with a couple of nods and two raised thumbs from the back seat. Derrick and Ethan are in the seat right behind me, and Layla’s in the very back with her pink rolling suitcase strapped in beside her.

Next to me, Priya’s scrolling on her phone. She has deep brown skin and curly hair that’s raven-black, cut just above her shoulders. A cherry-red streak peeks through at the bottom, the same color as her tee shirt. “Can we put on music?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say, pulling out of the parking lot. “If you can figure out how to?—”

Before I can finish the thought, she’s plugged her phone into the console with a short pink cord, her fingers tapping against the touchscreen on the dash.

“Fair enough,” I mutter, merging onto the highway.

The kids are mostly quiet, chattering about which other camps they’ve been to, which class they’re taking at ours. Before long, we’re halfway through the playlist that Priya’s humming along to, and I’m turning off the main highway and thinking that maybe I’ve been worried over nothing. My car’s full of kids who seem friendly and happy to be headed up the mountain. I’ve got Roxy in my corner, a job that could shake me out of my funk.

Things could be a lot worse. And they have been.

It’s nearly two o’clock, and Noah should be leaving just after three-thirty, when the last flight arrives. We’ll all get back in time for the kids to unload their bags and meet their roommates before orientation and dinner.

“Do you work at a lot of camps like this?” Priya asks.

“Actually, it’s my first one,” I tell her. “I mean, aside from ones I went to as a kid.”

She nods. “This is my first astronomy camp.”

“Mine too.”

“I don’t know much about astronomy,” she says, her voice lower. “I was supposed to go to marine biology camp, but it got canceled. My mom thought I’d like this place better anyway. She used to teach astrophysics at the University of Mumbai, but now she teaches at Cal Tech.”

“Wow,” I tell her. “That’s impressive.”

She nods. “Astronomy’s cool and all, but I really wanted to swim with some dolphins. Mom thinks that’s silly, though. She’s glad that camp was canceled.” She says this all matter-of-factly, with only a hint of emotion. I can’t help but see a little of myself in her because her mom sounds a lot like mine.

“I don’t know much about astronomy either,” I say. “So it’ll be an adventure for us both.”

Priya smiles. “I like adventure. I can’t wait for our camping trip.”

From the back of the car, Layla hollers, “Hey, turn it up! This is my favorite!”

As Priya turns the music up, she and Layla belt out the chorus to a Taylor Swift song that will no doubt be their summer anthem.

Ethan and Derrick nod along, still staring at the iPad they’re sharing.

Just as Layla hits her last “Uh-huh, that’s right,” the car bounces as it hits a pothole the size of a moon crater. I grit myteeth, gripping the wheel tighter as the kids shriek and laugh. We’re on a two-lane highway with pasture on one side and woods on the other, and this road looks like it hasn’t been re-paved in thirty years.

A loud rumbling fills the air, and I brake gently, hoping the sound is just part of the next song on Priya’s playlist. But thethwack-thwack-thwackthat follows makes my stomach sink.

“What's that?” Priya says, her eyes wide.

“It’s okay,” I say calmly, “But I think we have a flat.”

I slow down, easing off the road, while a chorus of questions erupt from the back seats—suddenly everyone has something to say, and the phones aren’t nearly as interesting as why I’m pulling onto the grassy shoulder.

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