Page 5 of Lavender Moon

Not giving myself a chance to get caught up in this moment, I turn in the direction of the cabins, glancing at him to join me, and we find a casual pace, walking easily in step.

Kaleb and I have always known that what we have is more than a friendship, but neither of us has dared venture to find out exactly what it is. I think we’ve always had an unspoken agreement not to mess with what isn’t broken. It’s just special.

“Remember, you promised to do all the dangerous stuff with the kids,” I remind him of what we’ve discussed in our emails.

“Of course,” he answers. “I’ve got the ropes course and the derby race, and you take all the pussy shit – ow!” He hollers when I cut him off with a smack to the arm. He retaliates by giving me a shove that has me stumbling a few feet.

“Just go get ready,” I order exasperatedly as I shove him in the direction of his cabin, and he obliges, chuckling at me over his shoulder.

* * *

After all twelveof my ten-year-old girls are settled in their cabin, I head to the main staff cabin that has the internet signal and phone line to do my first nightly check in with the parents. Some campers stay for only a week or two, and some stay all summer, so I know I’m going to have quite the variety of little people filtering in and out of my cabin for the next couple of months.

I click send on a group email to all the parents and guardians that we had a good first afternoon, all their kiddos are accounted for, what I have planned for the week, and rise from the chair.

When I exit the cabin, I don’t immediately head in the direction of Squirrel Hollow, but instead, venture around the side. When I get to the far East corner of the building, I pull out my small flashlight. The sun hasn’t completely set, but enough so that it’s hard to see what I’m looking for, even though I know without a doubt it’s right where it’s always been, year after year since I was ten.

Skimming my fingers along the wooden siding, I click the light on just to see it with my eyes as I touch it. And without fail, there’s my name etched into the wood. Luna is carved in extremely tiny letters with the beautiful imperfection of a ten-year-old boy using the edge of a flathead screwdriver he’d concocted for the job.

Taking a moment to glide my fingertip over it, I smile at the memory that cemented an eight-year friendship.

3

LUNA, AGE 10

“Are you kidding me?” Kelliann griped as Kaleb stepped away from the staff cabin. “That is too little to even see!”

Kaleb quirked a small half-smile as he raised a shoulder. “You didn’t say how big I had to make it.” His smile is small but proud as Logan snickers.

As for me, I stood off to the side, smiling, feeling a little relieved as I clasped my hands together in front of me. The whole walk over here I tried to talk him out of it, that it was just a stupid game and I didn’t want him to get in trouble.

“That should not count as a dare,” she continued to protest, sticking her hands on her little hips.

“I like this game,” Kaleb softly chuckled over at me, making me laugh.

Our shared amusement pissed the girl off even more. “Whatever,” she huffed as she turned away. “We’re not playing with you, if you can’t do it right. Brynne, come on!” she snapped, and the dark-haired girl scampered to catch up.

“Technically he did the dare!” the other boy that had originally accompanied them called after their retreating backs, holding his hands up in a shrug as he followed a few paces behind.

No love lost there, but still, it kind of burned every time my friendship felt rejected. Too young to realize it then, it was because of my athleticism that boys wanted to be friends with me, pissing off all the girls that had crushes on them. As far as I knew I wasn’t a tomboy; not at all. I was just as girly as my female peers; I just happened to like sports and chose basketball over girl scouts.

“Do you have any friends here?” I asked him as we both started walking back to the main trail that ran and sprawled in all different directions throughout the whole camp.

Only a headshake was his answer as we walked down the hill back in the direction of the camp, and I didn’t push it further. I did, however, stick to him like glue for the rest of my two weeks. What he did on the side of the staff cabin meant things to me that I was too young to even understand. His smart thinking kept him out of trouble, save both of us embarrassment, and weeded out a few personalities we did not want to hang with.

We fell into some kind of natural companionship, like we’d known each other all our lives, if you’ll forgive the cliché. With each hour we got more comfortable, even picking on each other, and ignoring all the other kid’s sneers about us being inseparable.

We played on the black top where I showed him out to shoot a layup, and he showed me how to ride a skateboard without killing myself. We sat next to each other in the mess hall at meal times, and by the camp fire each night. However, our friendship turned a corner when we were having an arts and crafts hour at one of the outdoor picnic tables.

Art had always been my passion, my jam if you will, and I was excited to have free time to create whatever we wanted. I loved using colors, whether it was markers, pastels, or paints, but even if I had access to nothing but crayons, I’d happily make do. One thing I avoided like the plague was drawing and sketching. I struggled with utensils that were fine-tipped and could not seem to construct an image the way I saw it in my head.

I would occasionally come back to it and make an attempt, but it always ended in frustration. I tried to chalk it up to just simply not being my strong suit and stuck to making abstract art, even though, to me, it felt like it wasn’t up to par with being an actual artist.

So when I saw Kaleb drawing an amazingly intricate wolf that day, I was in awe – and a little bit of envy.

“Wow, that is so good,” I mused, leaning forward with my arms tucked under me against the table. “How did you do that?”

Kaleb shrugged while continuing to move the pencil in mesmerizing strokes. “I don’t know, I’ve just always liked drawing. I’m not sure how I got good at it.”

---