The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 29: Ronan

"Are you taking a nap?"

I crack an eyelid open, prepared to yell at whatever camper decided to wake me up— until I see that it's only James, easily identifiable by his trademark buzz-cut. "Oh. You again." I say this because we've had kitchen duty together every day of the week, spending hours on end scrubbing dishes until our arms burn. "Couldn't get enough of me?"

James squints at me, sizing me up. He does that a lot. Like there's an answer to be found if he just looks hard enough. Then he shakes his head. "Sleeping on the job, Lockwood? I thought you were supposed to be our border guard."

"Lay off, Pretty Boy. We're going to win anyways."

"Don't jinx us, Chinos." James gestures to the weathered boulder I'd been snoozing against and asks, "This seat taken? My legs could use some rest."

"Be my guest," I reply. If anyone else had asked me this, I would've told them to bug off, but James is different. He's chill. Hanging out with him isn't like hanging out with Clancey and his friends, or suffering in Beckarof with Finn. Being around James is quieting, because I know I don't have to try to be anybody but myself, and he doesn't try to be anybody else, either.

James props his back up against the boulder and lets out a satisfied sigh. "You picked the perfect spot to take a nap. I don't think I've felt this relaxed the entire summer." He lets his eyelids flutter shut— a shame, really; the dappled sunlight turned his irises such a beautiful shade of gold. "There are, like, muscles loosening up in my body that I didn't even know existed until now."

"When the counselors aren't turning this camp into a personalized hell, it's kind of beautiful."

"Agreed."

We sit there for a while in silence, soaking up the sun and listening to the water splashing its way downstream. When I close my eyes, I can be anywhere— back in New York with Jesse, sipping piña coladas on a beach in Cancun.... the possibilities are endless.

"Want to take bets on who's going to win?" James asks.

"No need. It's totally going to be us. Clancey already knows where the other team's flag is. That's the reason I'm napping on guard duty— we're guaranteed a win."

"I know. Just humor me."

"Okay, fine. Fifty bucks says we win."

He blinks at me. "Wow. You'd really bet fifty dollars?"

I can't discern his tone of voice. It's very neutral, but in the way that only somebody who feels strongly about the subject can be neutral. Which means James could've found my statement incredibly amusing or incredibly irritating. I can't tell. I can't ever tell with James— he's one of the few people that I simply can't read.

"Yes," I say, deciding to be honest. We still have two days of kitchen duty left, and I don't want to spend them in the company of a lie. And, not that I know much about James, but I get the sense that he values honesty. We've been working out so well that I would hate to ruin things with something as stupid and pointless as a lie about my family. "I would."

"What, are you rich or something?" he asks.

I laugh until I realize that James isn't being sarcastic. Then I can only stare at him in shock. "You're not serious, are you?"

James looks back at me with equal confusion. "Are you?"

"My mother is Sabrina Lockwood."

"I have absolutely no idea who that is or what that is supposed to mean."

I absorb this. It takes me a moment. I'm used to living in a world where everybody knows who Sabrina is and everybody knows that she's my mother, so hearing James admit that he's clueless about her throws me for a loop. "Sabrina is...." I begin. Then I stop myself. James doesn't know who my mother is— why would I tell him? It's not like he needs to know, or that I particularly enjoy telling people what her job is. "She's not important. She's just my mom," I finish.