Page 34 of Summer's Echo
Her voice broke when it finally came, a shaky exhale slipped from her lips. “I didn’t see Shawn’s face,” she whispered, her words trembling under the enormity of her confession.
I nodded knowingly, though she couldn’t see me since her eyes were still shut tightly as if that would protect her from what she’d already divulged. “Who, Sunshine?” I pressed gently, leaning in closer, my heart pounding as I waited for her to say it. To name what we both already knew.
Summer shot up from the bed, her movements frantic as she shook her head vigorously. “No. No. I can’t do this,” she cried, pacing the short length of the room like a caged bird trying to escape.
I stood quickly, closing the gap between us in a few strides. “You can’t do what? Tell me the truth? Tellyourselfthe truth,” I demanded, stepping into her space.
Her face was a battlefield of emotions—anger and reassurance colliding like opposing storms. Angered by the truth, yet there was a quiet solace in it, too, as if acknowledging it might finally set her free. But she remained hushed.
My patience snapped, a mix of angst and fierce admiration for this woman seething through me. I nudged her back against the wall, my taller frame towering over her as I pinned her with my stare. “Say it,” I growled through gritted teeth, my hands braced against the wall on either side of her. “Whose face did you see?” The eerie silence stretched loud, scoring the music of the moment. My face was so close that I could feel her shaky breaths against my skin. I could’ve easily sucked her tongue into my mouth with no effort. Her lips trembled, her eyes piercing mine as several long, agonizing heartbeats thudded before she finally broke.
“You,” she cried, her voice cracking and body limp. “Echo, I saw you.”
Relief—shit, redemption—surged through me because I was gaining back what I’d lost. I released a heavy breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a tide of emotions washing over me. “It’s always been you, Summer,” I murmured, my forehead pressed to hers. “Always.”
Summer
Post-Graduation, Summer 2005
This year, my birthday felt lonelier than ever. And it was my eighteenth—if any year deserved to be celebrated, it was this one. I should’ve been kicking it with my friends, soaking up the milestone with laughter and fun. Instead, I was at camp, surrounded by the sounds of nature but feeling miles away from the people I cared about most.
As usual, I celebrated with my family at my family’s annual Memorial Day celebration before I left, and my friends who would normally be at camp with me even threw me a party, complete with cake and hugs that lingered too long. But on the actual day? It was just another rotation of busy camp activities, and I couldn’t shake the emptiness gnawing at my chest.
I hadn’t planned on returning to camp this summer—at least, not until I found out my scholarship wouldn’t cover all of my housing at Spelman. I had other options, full-ride offers that would’ve made things easier. But they weren’t Spelman, so I made the choice. The money I’d earn here, along with the scholarship funded by the founding family of Camp Quest, would secure my future at the school of my dreams. And for that, I was willing to spend one more summer in a place that had shaped so much of who I was.
Since I was no longer a high school counselor, I held the position of assistant director, which included counselor responsibilities, among other things—coordinating schedules, training new counselors, and managing the chaos. It was great for my résumé, and I always loved it here, but this summer, something was missing—or maybe someone.
I didn’t need to think long to figure it out. I missed Echo. His face—the way his brow furrowed in disappointment when I told him I’d be working at the camp—replayed in my head more times than I wanted to admit. His college plans were set and fully funded, which meant returning to Camp Quest wasn’t on his radar. And we hadn’t made any official plans for the summer, but we didn’t have to. It was understood. This was supposed to beoursummer. And I’d broken those unspoken plans without so much as a second thought.
The sky was always a masterpiece at this time of the day, painting streaks of orange and violet as the sun slept for the night. The moon was pale, yet luminous as it began to awaken, casting a faint glow over the campgrounds. It was a perfect first evening of summer. The cool breeze rustled through the leaves, and the chirps of birds and bugs blended into a soothing melody. Even the air felt lighter, a reprieve from the stifling heat of the day.
I was relieved that the day was finally winding down and my shift was over. The campers were nestled in the amphitheater, enjoying dinner and a movie, their chatter fading into the background as I finished my rounds. After double-checking that everyone was accounted for and fed, I made my way back to my room. Thankfully, assistant directors had the privilege of their own space, and tonight, I was more than ready to sink into the solitude. The promise of quiet felt like a much-needed gift at the close of this lonely birthday.
My steps slowed, navigating the gravel road from memory while I marveled in the beauty of my surroundings. Staring into the night, I willed the first stars to show their light. And then, there it was, a faint twinkle streaking across the sky. I paused, closing my eyes as I made a wish. But this time, I whispered the words aloud, letting the stillness of the night carry them away. The path was empty, its hush amplified by the faint rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
So, when a soft, almost imperceptible sound broke the quiet, it seemed to echo louder than it should have. My ears perked instinctively, straining to catch what might not have been there at all. I shook my head, telling myself it was just my imagination playing tricks. But as I took a few more steps, the sound came again, stopping me in my tracks.
“Psst.”The whisper was sharp, cutting through the serene night like a blade. I scanned the shadows, my pulse quickening.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice urgent yet low, laced with restrained authority. “If you’re supposed to be watching a movie, you better get there…now,” I said firmly, assuming some campers were sneaking where they shouldn’t be.
“Don’t hurt me, Sunshine,” the familiar voice murmured from the shadows, the teasing edge instantly unraveling my tension.
I froze, my heart pounding as the figure stepped into the moonlight. The glow illuminated the curve of his jaw, the warmth of his smile, and the easy confidence in his stride. Recognition hit me like a wave, and my breath caught.
“Echo,” I screeched, my voice ringing through the trees. He lifted a finger to his lips, his playful expression urging me to be quiet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone a mix of surprise and joy.
“Happy birthday,” he said. Without thinking, I closed the distance, falling into his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His embrace was firm and familiar, and just like that, the loneliness that had weighed down my day lifted. What had been gray and dull was now bursting with color—vibrant, brilliant, and calm all at once.
Echo
Post-Graduation, Summer 2005
“Summer solstice is here, giving us the longestday of the year and plenty of sunshine to soakup. Whether you’re planning a trip to the amusementpark, a barbecue in the backyard, or just enjoying thewarmth of the season, today is the perfect time tocelebrate everything summer has to offer. Stay hydrated, don’tforget the sunscreen, and let’s make the most ofthis sunny start to summer!”
The television’s glow faded as I turned it off, not wanting to be reminded what day it was. Today wasn’t the first day of summer, but it was Summer’s birthday. And I wanted to see her…bad. She’d had been gone a few weeks, but it felt like an eternity. Her absence left a hole where all the hours we used to spend together used to be. Don’t get me wrong, my summer wasn’t empty. Between volunteering and the internship my dad had secured for me at the university’s School of Art, I had plenty to do. But no matter how busy I was, in every quiet moment, Summer filled my thoughts. She was like a drug I couldn’t quit, and on her birthday, the craving hit harder than ever.
