Barely Keeping It Together

The padel court at Camp Wiyaka had seen better days. The net sagged like a dropped jaw, and the fence had more rust than metal. But none of that mattered to Maya. What mattered was that Jake—Jake with the hair that fell across his forehead when he laughed, Jake who'd already gotten his braces off—was standing on the other side.

"You gonna serve or what?" Jake called, grinning that grin that made Maya's stomach do actual gymnastics.

"Yeah, just... visualizing my greatness." Maya's voice cracked on "greatness." Smooth. Real smooth.

Her older brother had told her the key to talking to crushes was pretending she didn't care. But here's the thing: she was literally sweating through her t-shirt, and there was nothing uncaring about that. It was July in New Hampshire, and the humidity was doing its level best to melt everyone into puddles of awkward.

Her first serve hit the net.

"Bear down," Jake said, bouncing the ball. "You got this."

Bear. The word sent a hot flush through her. Last year, during the end-of-summer talent show, some juniors had pantsed her during her skit, revealing her childhood underwear covered in little cartoon bears. She'd been "Bear Girl" ever since. Not to her face, but she heard the whispers. Bears in the woods. Bears at breakfast. The bear necessities of life, someone had "joked" in the cafeteria line.

She'd never told anyone how much it stung. Just bore it silently, like everything else.

"Whatever." Maya slammed her next serve. It sailed long, hit the fence, and ricocheted toward the lake.

"Whoa, aggressive." Jake laughed—but not mean. Just... laughing. "Wanna grab it?"

They walked toward the water together, and Maya's brain was running through approximately 47 possible things to say that wouldn't make her sound completely unhinged.

"So," Jake started. "I heard about what happened last year."

Maya froze. "The... bear thing?"

"Yeah." He looked at her, really looked at her. "Those guys were dicks. Seriously."

"Oh." She wasn't expecting that.

"Anyway," Jake said, "bears are cool. They're like, totally badass. They hibernate through winter and wake up like, 'sup world, I'm still here.'"

Maya actually smiled. "That's the worst impression ever."

"But ACCURATE." He gestured toward the lake. "Wanna skip padel and just... hang?"

The sun glittered on the water, and for the first time in a year, Maya felt something loosen in her chest. Maybe she didn't have to bear it alone. Maybe she could stop carrying around what happened like it defined her.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

And somewhere in the distance, an actual bear rumbled in the woods, totally unaware it had become something like a metaphor.