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The bus smelled like sunscreen, bug spray, and anticipation.
Every year it was the same.
Girls pressed their faces against the windows as the trees grew thicker, the roads narrower, and the city slowly disappeared behind them. The counselors sang songs nobody admitted to liking until everyone was singing them anyway.
Except for one girl.
She sat alone near the back, headphones clamped over her ears, dark hoodie despite the July heat, boots planted firmly against the seat in front of her.
Face set in a “Leave Me The Fuck Alone” scowl.
Beca Mitchell looked like she'd boarded the wrong bus.
Chloe Beale noticed her almost immediately.
Mostly because everyone else noticed her too.
"Think she's okay?" Stacie whispered dramatically from across the aisle.
Aubrey glanced over the top of the clipboard she'd somehow already produced.
She was taking her new C.I.T. role seriously.
Very seriously.
Maybe over the top seriously.
"Feet off the seat," she called automatically.
Beca didn't move.
Aside from lifting up her left hand and slowly flipping Aubrey the finger.
Aubrey sighed.
"I admire the commitment," Stacie muttered.
Chloe laughed.
She'd been coming to Camp Evergreen since she was eight years old.
Now sixteen, this was her ninth summer.
Last year as a camper.
Next year, hopefully maybe, probably, a counselor.
She knew every trail.
Every counselor.
Every canoe that leaked.
Every squirrel bold enough to steal marshmallows.
Camp was home.
Camp was free of the pressures of the high school social hierarchy.
The endless questions from parents about who she was friends with, who she was dating, was she making the right connections to ensure a perfect future.
None of that mattered here where the air was clean and the long summer days stretched on into warm summer nights.
It was impossible to imagine someone not loving it.
The cabins hadn't changed.
Rough cedar walls.
Metal bunk beds.
Windows that never quite shut all the way.
A porch overlooking the lake where dragonflies skimmed the water.
The girls piled through the doorway in a blur of duffel bags and excited chatter.
"I call top!"
"No fair!"
"I had it last year!"
Within seconds the cabin dissolved into cheerful chaos.
Chloe set her bag beside the lower bunk she'd claimed every summer.
Then the new girl walked in.
No greeting.
No smile.
Just one quick scan of the room.
Without asking anyone, Beca climbed onto the top bunk directly above Chloe, shoved her backpack against the wall, and flopped backward.
"Hi!" Chloe said brightly. "I'm Chloe."
A pair of dark blue eyes appeared over the mattress.
"...Cool."
Then disappeared again.
Stacie leaned over from the bunk across from them.
"Well she's sunshine."
Chloe nudged her.
"Maybe she's nervous."
She kept trying.
Because that's who Chloe was.
At breakfast she asked if Beca wanted pancakes.
"No."
Conversation shut down in record time.
At canoe lessons…
"Need a partner?" Chloe tried her friendliest smile.
"I'm good."
And the headphones that seemed to an integral part of Beca Mitchell were lifted up over her ears again.
Arts and crafts?
"No thanks."
Swimming?
"I'll watch."
Campfire songs?
Beca stayed on the edge of the clearing with a book.
She wasn't rude exactly.
Just...
Closed.
Like every conversation ended before it began.
Three days passed.
The cabin learned little things.
Beca woke earlier than everyone.
She always carried a notebook.
She knew an alarming amount about obscure bands.
She rolled her eyes every time the counselors announced, "mandatory fun."
She was secretly incredible at archery.
One afternoon Chloe caught her splitting an arrow down the middle of another.
"That was amazing!"
Beca shrugged.
"Beginner's luck."
"You've hit the bullseye seventeen times."
"...Lucky seventeen."
Chloe smiled.
"You know you're allowed to be good at things."
Beca looked almost startled.
Then she packed away the bow.
Conversation over.
That evening they hiked to Eagle Point.
The overlook stretched across the entire valley.
The lake glittered gold beneath the setting sun.
Everyone gasped.
Except Beca.
She stood with her hands shoved into her hoodie pockets.
Looking everywhere except the view.
Chloe wandered over.
"Pretty amazing, isn't it?"
"I've seen sunsets."
"...Not this one."
Silence.
Wind rustled through the pines.
Finally Beca spoke.
"My dad likes places like this."
"Oh?"
"He says they're peaceful."
"You don't?"
"I don't really know what peaceful feels like."
The words came out quietly.
Almost accidentally.
Before Chloe could answer…
"I'm going back."
And Beca walked away.
That sentence stayed with Chloe.
I don't really know what peaceful feels like.
People who grew up loving camp usually arrived already relaxed.
Beca looked like she'd spent her whole life waiting for something bad to happen.
The storm arrived on Friday.
Counselors noticed it first.
Clouds stacked along the horizon.
Humidity thick enough to breathe.
The lake became strangely still.
"No swimming after dinner," one counselor announced.
"Thunderstorm coming."
Half the campers groaned.
Chloe grinned.
"I love storms."
Stacie stared.
"You're weird."
"They're cozy!"
"They're loud."
"They're beautiful."
"They're wet."
"They're dramatic!"
"They're terrifying if you're trying to roast marshmallows."
By bedtime the rain had started.
Gentle at first.
Then harder.
Branches scraped against the cabin roof.
Lightning flashed behind the curtains.
The girls settled into sleeping bags.
Someone whispered ghost stories.
Someone else giggled.
Thunder rolled across the lake.
Chloe smiled into her pillow.
She loved listening to storms.
They made the world feel smaller.
Safer somehow.
She drifted to sleep.
Something woke her.
Not thunder.
Weight.
There was someone in her bed.
Chloe blinked into darkness.
The cabin was lit every few seconds by flashes of lightning.
Another crack of thunder shook the windows.
The figure beside her flinched violently.
"...Beca?"
No answer.
Just another flash.
Chloe recognized the oversized hoodie.
"...Why're you in my bed?"
For a long moment she thought Beca wasn't going to answer.
Then…
"I'm not." Beca's voice sounded small. Uncertain.
"You most definitely are."
"...Oh."
Thunder exploded directly overhead.
The entire cabin rattled.
Beca's breathing caught.
She instinctively grabbed Chloe's blanket.
"I'm sorry."
Her voice was barely audible.
"I'll go."
She started climbing out.
Another lightning strike illuminated the room.
Chloe saw it.
Beca was shaking.
Not a little.
Completely.
Her hands trembled.
Her breathing was uneven.
She looked terrified.
"Wait."
Beca froze.
"I..."
She stared at the floor.
"I hate storms."
Another pause.
Then, almost embarrassed…
"Actually..."
"I..." She swallowed.
"I'm afraid of them."
The confession seemed to cost her something.
"I know it's stupid."
"It isn't."
"They're loud."
"They are."
"And they don't stop."
"No."
"I thought maybe..."
She rubbed her eyes furiously.
"...don't make a big deal about it."
"I'm not."
"You just..."
Another thunderclap.
Beca squeezed her eyes shut.
"...you are kind of..."
She looked horrified she'd said it aloud.
"...Nice."
Chloe smiled.
"So I've been told."
"I don't need..."
Beca gestured vaguely.
"...anything."
"Okay."
"You don't have to…"
"I know."
"You aren't going to tell everyone?"
"No."
"They'll think I'm ridiculous."
"They won't hear it from me."
Beca searched her face.
Trying to decide whether to believe her.
Finally…
"...Thanks."
Chloe lifted one side of the blanket.
"There's room."
Beca hesitated.
Then lay back down.
Carefully.
As though trying not to take up space.
Another flash.
Another boom.
She flinched again.
Without saying anything, Chloe moved a little closer.
Not dramatically.
Not like she was rescuing anyone.
Just...
Closer.
Their shoulders touched.
Beca relaxed maybe half an inch.
"My mom used to count."
Chloe blinked.
"What?"
"Between lightning and thunder."
"Oh."
"Said it helped."
"Does it?"
"No."
A tiny smile.
"But she believed it did."
"So we can count."
"...Really?"
"Sure."
Lightning.
"...One..."
"...Two..."
"...Three..."
Thunder.
"Pretty far away."
Beca nodded.
Neither of them mentioned that the next strike came much sooner.
Minutes passed.
The rain hammered the roof.
Wind howled through the trees.
Girls around the cabin slept through it all.
Except them.
Another especially violent crack split the night.
Before she seemed to realize what she was doing, Beca grabbed Chloe's hand.
She immediately let go.
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
"I didn't mean…"
"It's okay."
This time Chloe took her hand instead.
Gentle.
Warm.
No teasing.
No comments.
Just...
There.
Beca's fingers slowly stopped trembling.
"My parents fought during storms."
The sentence came quietly.
"So now..."
She shrugged.
"I guess my brain decided storms equal bad things."
Chloe listened.
Didn't interrupt.
Didn't offer solutions.
Sometimes people just needed someone to hear them.
"I know it's dumb."
"I don't."
"I was little."
"So?"
"I still feel little."
Chloe squeezed her hand.
"I think everyone feels little sometimes."
Beca looked over.
"Including you?"
"Oh absolutely."
"When?"
"Needles."
"You don't like needles?"
"I cry at vaccines."
"You do not."
"I absolutely do."
Beca actually laughed.
A tiny laugh.
But real.
"You? Aside from this whole thing.” Chloe waved the hand that was intertwined with Beca’s in the general direction of the storm outside.
"I'm scared of geese." Beca looked sheepish.
"Geese?" Chloe bit her lip.
"They know what they did." Beca’s face was deadly serious.
Chloe burst into laughter loud enough that she had to cover her mouth.
"You are impossible."
"I'm correct."
"They're kind of mean." Chloe conceded.
"They're monsters."
Another rumble.
This time Beca barely jumped.
Eventually Chloe asked softly,
"Can I do something?"
"What?"
Instead of answering, Chloe opened one arm.
An invitation.
Nothing more.
Beca stared.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
After several long seconds...
Beca moved.
Very carefully.
She rested against Chloe.
Tentatively.
Like someone who wasn't used to being held.
Chloe wrapped the blanket around both of them.
One arm around Beca's shoulders.
No fuss.
No commentary.
Just warmth.
The shaking slowly eased.
"I haven't done this since I was little."
"What?"
"Let someone help."
Chloe rested her cheek lightly against Beca's hair.
"I don't mind."
"I know."
"You don't have to pretend you're okay all the time."
"I usually do."
"You don't have to tonight."
Silence.
Comfortable this time.
Outside, rain drummed steadily across the roof.
The thunder drifted farther away.
The storm was moving on.
By the time the lightning became distant flickers on the horizon, Beca had fallen asleep.
Really asleep.
Not pretending.
Her breathing was slow and even.
One hand still lightly holding Chloe's pajama sleeve.
Chloe smiled in the darkness.
Everyone at camp had been trying to figure Beca Mitchell out.
Maybe there wasn't anything to figure out.
Maybe she'd simply spent too long believing she had to face everything alone.
Chloe carefully brushed a loose strand of dark hair away from Beca's forehead.
"So that's the secret," she whispered to herself.
"You just needed someone."
She knew better than to expect miracles in the morning.
Beca would probably wake up embarrassed.
Probably retreat behind sarcasm.
Probably pretend none of this had happened.
That was okay.
Friendship wasn't built in grand gestures.
It was built in quiet moments.
Shared pancakes.
Walks around the lake.
Counting seconds between lightning and thunder.
A hand offered without making someone feel small for taking it.
Chloe closed her eyes.
For the first time all week, the top bunk above hers didn't feel occupied by a stranger.
It felt like the beginning of a story.
And somehow…
Listening to the last soft echoes of thunder fade beyond the lake…
Chloe had the unmistakable feeling that years from now, when she thought about her favorite summer at Camp Evergreen...
This would be the night she'd remember first.