The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 64: Jasper

It's the last Sharing Circle of the summer, and my last chance to tell the truth. 

I used to give my secrets away to anyone who would listen. Nobody ever paid attention long enough for it to really matter. Know what you're about, that's what my father used to tell me. I should've taken his words to heart. When I arrived at Lightlake, I felt lost in the world, wandering aimlessly without a purpose, my only desire to fade into the background and stay there. Not so much has changed since then. I still have a tendency to get lost, but at least now I know where I can be found. 

"Jasper, is there something you'd like to share?"

I raise my chin. Owen is waiting patiently for my response, while the rest of the cabin seems vaguely interested in what I have to say— Giselle is smiling encouragingly at me from her perch on her chair, Finn flashes a thumbs-up when our eyes meet, and even Ronan gives me a slight nod. Knowing that my friends are here to support me fills me with a newfound sense of confidence. I've never had friends like this before— ones that make me feel like more of myself, not less. 

"Actually, there is," I say slowly. My thoughts are moving at a tortoise's pace, struggling to comprehend the sticky situation I've landed myself in. Actually, I would like to share. I never thought I'd say those words in a room full of strangers, but here I am. The moment I spoke up, I made my choice— there's no stopping now, only slowing down long enough to catch my breath.

"Spit it out, Sostenuto," Emily says, popping her bubblegum noisily. "We don't have all day."

Owen shushes her. "Take your time, Jasper. There's no rush."

"Thank you." I'd like to say that my voice was steady and calm, but in reality, I'm shaking with stage-fright. Public speaking has never been my strong suit. "There is a story I'd like to share today. One I haven't told many people before."

The counselor grins proudly. After an unproductive session of Sharing Circle, I'm sure he's glad to have one camper willing to participate. (I wonder if he has a quota to fill. There's no way he's this invested in all our boring lives.) "Please, go ahead."

A rush of nerves overcomes my body, rooting me to the spot in my sweaty plastic chair. I can feel my jaw hanging open but I can't find the muscles to shut it. Oh, god. This is what total paralysis must feel like: I'm encased in concrete, lead weights attached to my lungs. I thought I was brave, but Owen's words and the sight of dull-eyed campers has sucked me back into one of my worst memories: my forced confession in front of the school board.

Please, go ahead. I can remember the principal speaking those same words as she clicked a blue ballpoint pen against her desk, her tongue scraping over the lipstick stain on the corner of her mouth. Is there something you'd like to share? The five boys I thought were my friends were there too, but none of them dared to speak. Their faces were dull and impressionless; cardboard cutouts of real people. Go ahead, Jasper. 

In the end, I was the one who took the fall. I confessed to everything: hacking into the school computers, changing the grades of my so-called friends, elevating their GPA high enough to get into a decent college. It was my last-ditch attempt to win their admiration, and it failed. I failed. Those boys never talked to me again, and I returned to eating my lunch in the bathroom stall as if nothing had changed. For a long time, it felt like nothing would change.

Go ahead, Jasper. Is there something you'd like to share? 

One of the campers snickers. Emily pops another bubble.

My stomach churns threateningly, and for a terrible moment, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I force myself to think of hopeful things: Ronan's understanding nod, Finn's kind gestures, Giselle's encouraging smile... And then I think of Giselle, and the hours we spent together by that creek, and her tireless perseverance in the face of a world that despised her, for no other reason than unavoidable circumstance. When I tilt my head away from the floor, she's still smiling at me, her blue eyes gleaming with the intensity of my first sip of whiskey.