Orange Bear Summer

The orange swimsuit was basically a war crime against my dignity. Mom picked it out, obviously, claiming it 'popped' against my skin tone. Popped is right—like a highlighter video game character exploding onto the beach at summer camp. I looked like a walking traffic cone.

'You're not actually wearing that,' said Leo, my best friend since third grade, now suddenly too cool for everything except making my life miserable. He adjusted his Ray-Bans—real ones, not the knockoffs I was rocking—and nodded toward the lake. 'Everyone's swimming. You coming or what?'

'I'm thinking,' I lied. Truth was, I'd been spying on this girl Chloe from my bunk for three days straight, and getting into a neon-orange monstrosity in front of her felt like social suicide. Leo knew it, too. The jerk.

Meanwhile, stuffed under my bunk was Bear—my childhood teddy bear, because apparently bringing emotional support stuffed animals to teen camp wasn't weird at all. I'd debated chucking him in the woods, but then who would I mentally unpack my problems to? Leo? The guy who'd literally said 'no offense' before telling me my haircut made me look like I'd lost a bet?

Something moved in the woods near our cabin. Not a squirrel. Something bigger.

'Wait,' I whispered, suddenly forgetting my swimsuit anxiety. 'You see that?'

Leo squinted. 'See what? You're being weird again.'

'There's literally a bear over there.'

He snorted. 'Right. And I'm actually fluent in six languages and just choose to speak like a normal person.'

But then—the bear stepped into the clearing. Real bear. Actual bear. Just staring at us like we were the weirdest thing it had seen all day, which was fair because we were literally standing there in swim trunks arguing about social status.

We didn't scream. We didn't run. We just slowly backed toward the main lodge, Leo's cool completely evaporated, my orange embarrassment suddenly the least of our problems. By dinner, we'd told everyone about our close encounter with certain death, Leo and I, united by bear trauma against the world.

Chloe sat across from us in the cafeteria, listening to our story. She smiled at me—not Leo, me. 'So you're basically bear experts now,' she said. 'That's lowkey iconic.'

'Very,' said Leo, shooting me a look. Then, under his breath: 'You're welcome.'

I took a bite of my corn. Some days, I had no idea what was happening. But for the first time all week, I didn't hate the orange swimsuit quite as much.