Page 106 of Camp Bliss
Because when I looked over at Greta to catch her reaction, the rosy sunset lit her eyes, her hair, her mouth.
I swear, I couldn’t breathe for at least thirty seconds.
I’d only pointed out the ongoing construction of the changing rooms from a distance, wanting to get to the clearing and show my parents the challenge course before full dark when the mosquitos would chase us inside.
So now we’re on the trail, my parents in front and Greta and I just behind them, and Mom gasps again. “You have fireflies!”
The bioluminescent blips are lighting up the thicket’s gloom. It’s like magic. This never gets old, but I forget that it’s new to most people.
“I haven’t seen a firefly around here in probably twenty years,” Dad muses. “I thought they were gone.”
“They are rare these days,” Greta agrees, “but you can still find them in wooded areas where people don’t spray for mosquitos.”
“Mosquito spray kills fireflies?” Mom asks, disapproval in her tone.
“And dragonflies and bees and butterflies and fish,” Greta lists grimly.
“Good grief,” Mom mutters.
The science teacher in Greta is on a roll now. I bite back my grin as she continues her lesson. “The firefly, Lampyridae, is also contending with habitat loss and light pollution. As you can imagine, street lamps, lit up cities, and overhead skies that never really go dark make it pretty hard to signal a mate with your glow-in-the-dark behind.”
Dad snickers and looks up at the tree canopy. “I guess that’s why you two haven’t installed any lights on this trail.”
“And we never will,” I say. “Headlamps are the way to go. When we do after-dark activities, our campers will each have one.”
Mom looks back at us over her shoulder, smiling. “Those kids willlovethat.”
I glance over at Greta to see that same buoyant, hopeful smile. The woman can’t wait until we can open for kids. After school care. Summer camps. School holiday camps. She is so ready to share this place with kids.
She’s even reached out to the local Boys & Girls Club to propose field trips so that underprivileged children who live in neighborhoods where it’s not even safe to play outside can come and enjoy nature and share in all of this wonder we have at our fingertips.
We’ve talked about holding those one Saturday a month, so long as the non-profit can provide transportation.
We want to get a bus of our own, and that want may become a need in order to support our after school program, but it was one of those things Josh’s theft pushed further down the road.
Bastard.
We reach the clearing, and there’s just enough light in the rinsed out sky to see the H-frame of the dual catwalk and the bare poles for the three other challenges towering above us.
“Damn, son. You build that thing yourself?”
I snort. “No. I had a lot of help. And only one activity is ready yet.” I point to the catwalk. “Finished it today. Greta tested it out just before y’all showed up.”
It’s hard not to look over at her, knowing what happened right after that.
“By yourself?!”Mom sounds breathless. I let myself peek at Greta. She’s smiling, but there’s shyness in it, and I know if it were brighter I’d see her blushing. And I wonder if, like me, she’s thinking about the kiss too.
“Zach belayed me, of course, but yeah, I traversed it myself.”
Looking up at the apparatus, Mom makes the sign of the cross and shakes her head. I roll my eyes.
“Actually, it hasn’t had a true test since two climbers are supposed to go up at the same time, meet each other in the middle, and trade places.”
Dad gives a low whistle.
“Madness,” Mom mutters under her breath.
My grin is sinister. “We could harness y’all up, and you could be the first ones to do it right if you—”
