Out of My Heart: Chapters 37–48

But it was okay. Because today I was riding a stinkin’ horse!
Just as I was thinking how this movie was going to develop, how I was gonna remember this moment forever, a commercial came on! Well, not exactly, but the silence of the forest was suddenly rudely interrupted by boisterous laughter.

“Noah’s horse is called an Appaloosa,” Trinity told me, as Brock and Malik, who was looking a little sunburned, scooted by with a wave on what I was pretty sure was called a palomino.

As if he sensed me thinking about him, Noah said, “Hey, there, girl with a name that sounds like a song. I hope Jolie’s giving you a good ride!”
I nodded in what I hoped was a dignified manner and reminded myself that he couldn’t know how Buttery I felt inside. Oh, how much I longed to speak.

There was no need to say anything to what was already pretty perfect. Riding! As we rode along, I lifted my face to the dappled sunshine...until I noticed there wasn’t any.
Clouds were gathering.

Long, low thunder rumbled off in the distance. I felt Trinity’s arm tighten ever so slightly around me as she pressed her heels into Jolie’s sides, and the horse picked up speed.
“Melody, I’m having Jolie hurry up a bit—we’re cantering. We might just beat the rain!”

But then a bolt of lightning blazed like fire, seemingly right at us, and the sky lit up. I’d never actually watched lightning this close. It crackled bright white against the almost-black sky. It was actually really pretty.

I bounced with Jolie’s every stride, knowing I couldn’t fall off, but wondering where this horse might decide to go. If she stays on the path, we’ll be okay, I told myself again. I said it—we’ll be okay—like a mantra.

I pulled the reins. Just a little. Was it enough? I couldn’t get a strong enough grip to pull harder. I tried again. I pulled.
Then I felt it—Jolie, almost imperceptibly, slowing down.

I pulled again. Incredibly, Jolie slowed to a trot. Rain was streaming off her neck, her mane slick.
The rain pelted, the sky growled. I pulled once more. And slowly, slowly, Jolie slowed her pace to a walk.

And Jolie clip-splash-clopped down the well-worn path, which I hoped, I prayed, led back to camp. She moseyed along as if we were on a Sunday drive.

Trinity, her voice hoarse with anguish, cried out, “Are you cut anywhere? Bleeding? Anything broken?” I wish I could have told them I was perfectly fine—just wet. I shook my head no, smiled, even tried to wave. I’m fine! I’m fine! I said in my head.

We trudged back to the stables sopping wet, but yeah, also a little victorious. Trinity walked on one side of me, holding Jolie’s reins, Lulu on the other, watchful and careful while she held the reins of both her horse and Trinity’s.

“So, how about we do our own private story time tonight?” Lulu suggested.
The four of us looked at each other in dismay.
“Maybe we can tell ghost stories,” Trinity suggested, all perky.
“Or tell jokes.” Sage, perkier.
None of us replied—louder this time.

“So, how about we do our own private story time tonight?” Lulu suggested.
The four of us looked at each other in dismay.
“Maybe we can tell ghost stories,” Trinity suggested, all perky.
“Or tell jokes.” Sage, perkier.
None of us replied—louder this time.

Classical music played over a speaker as we donned our designer garbage bags. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony came on and we all improv chanted to it: "Who’s at the door? DUM-dum-dum-DUM!”

I already knew the next song she played—Moonlight Sonata, also by that Beethoven guy.

And maybe because of what the girls had told me yesterday, too...I chose dark purple and royal blue for that song. Trinity looked at it pensively.
“Hmm, I can really see what you’re feeling. Sorrow?” I nodded.
“Anger?”
Yep!

The colors under my hands began to blend into one giant bruise. I shoved at the paint harder and harder. Who cared if I ripped the paper? And as the paints blurred, becoming indistinguishable from one another, I hesitated. The colors had become a whole new color. A night sky color, like the color of the sky here—at the campfire!

“So, are you ready to kick it? The sky is full of stars, the night is warm, and the stage is set,” she said in a low, fake-movie-star voice.
I ignored her, trying to suppress a grin as I rolled over to the only mirror in the cabin, hung crookedly near the door. I gotta admit, the red dress that Mom insisted on packing was absolutely perfect.

But everybody continued to clap—wow, synchronized clapping was loud! And all for me to get out there and embarrass myself—and yep, dance.

Home! I couldn’t believe it, but I felt like it was too soon, like I hadn’t done enough here. That made me laugh a little. I had worried so much. I’d fretted and stressed. And now I wasn’t sure if I was ready to leave.

Trinity rummaged through the clothes I had brought and pulled out a really sharp outfit—skinny jeans, a hot-pink cutoff shirt, and fresh white sneakers.

Athena went from giddy to frowning. “I miss my mom. But I think I’m gonna miss camp—maybe a lot.” She squeezed another huge glob of caramel into her oatmeal and stirred and stirred and stirred.

Sage’s phone pinged. She glanced down. “Hey, Athena! I just got a text. Your parents have arrived at the check-in gate. Do you want to go out and greet them?”
“Super-duper!” Athena cried out. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Then she paused, her face distraught. “Bye, guys—I hope I see you next summer!” She gave us each one more hug, and she was out the door, Sage racing after her.

“Next year?” I tapped.
They couldn’t answer quickly enough. “Yes! We have to! For sure! We gotta make a pact or something!” Karyn and Jocelyn did a fist bump. “Falcons! Falcons!”

“I—we—can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of our girl,” Mom blubbered.

Just then Cassie’s voice reverberated out of the same megaphone she’d used during game day. “To all campers and their families, we will begin our closing program in just a few minutes. Please join us around the fire pit!”

“We will call the names in alphabetical order by cabin,” Cassie explained, “and counselors will give their campers their awards.”
She opened the folder she held in her hand and paused, I guess for dramatic effect, then shouted, “Let the ceremony begin!” She nodded to Sage, who began playing the song called “Pomp and Circumstance.”

Jeremiah shook his head in a way that said quit it and / love you guys at the same time, and continued. “Our first graduate is a young man who showed strength and fortitude and mighty slick dance skills! Congratulations, Noah Abercrombie!”

In our schools, most of us are considered misfits. We are often ignored, mistreated, teased, or overlooked. Each of us struggles with something—physical, emotional, mental—that makes us just a little different from others. Sometimes a lot different.
But here, we were awesome, we were noble, we were able, and we were cool!