The Summer I Wasn't Me (4 page)

“How else do you know? Other than the physical?”

“It’s just…something I know.”

He looks unsatisfied but waves me on anyway. “Go ahead.”

The final counselor, a young man with his blond hair neatly parted and slicked to the side, doesn’t ask about my womanliness. Rather, he says, “Why are you here?”

To get my mother back. To forget about Zoë. To finally fit in with everyone back home. To not be alone anymore.

“To learn to change,” I say. And I mean it. I really do want this to work. I don’t know if it can or will, but I want it to. It would solve everything.

He smiles and steps aside to open the cabin door for me. “Please make yourself comfortable while we wait for the other campers to arrive.”

***

There are four girls and seven boys already inside. They’re seated in folding chairs arranged in a circle in the middle of the large, carpeted room. I notice the girls are all wearing the same cross around their necks as I am. The boys are wearing their own version—silver, slightly larger, and more masculine. New Horizons must buy these things in bulk. No one is talking, but they all look up when I enter, surveying me with interest. I dodge their scrutinizing stares and take in the rest of the room. The carpet is dark blue and soft under my feet—it looks brand new. Stacked up neatly against three of the walls are what look like props of some sort. I spot dolls, baseball mitts and basketballs, a chalkboard, an assortment of hats, a punching bag, cooking utensils, and Nerf baseball bats.

There’s a fireplace built into the wall on my right, but there’s no fire going—probably because it’s about a hundred degrees in the cabin.

“Hi,” I say as I sit down in an empty chair. I push my bangs back from my suddenly sweaty forehead. “I’m Lexi.”

The shaggy-haired guy from earlier is sitting next to me. “Matthew,” he says and shakes my hand. His face has been wiped completely clean of any of the emotion from before, and only now do I notice his bright-green eyes and fitted tee with Ellen DeGeneres’s face silk-screened onto it. That shirt is amazing. I want it.

“I love your shirt,” I say.

He beams. “Thanks! My boyfriend got it for me. But the Nazis here made me cover it up.” He gestures to a wadded-up blue New Horizons T-shirt under his chair.

“Shouldn’t you put that back on before they come back?” I glance at the door.

“What for? I’m not scared of them.” And despite what I thought I saw earlier, I believe him. He seems completely relaxed.

“Oh yeah, me neither,” I say, not even close to as convincingly.

There’s a long, significant pause.

“So, you have a boyfriend?” I ask Matthew finally.

“Going on two years.” I swear his eyes twinkle when he says it. He looks so happy and in love. He doesn’t look at all like someone who wants to change his sexuality.

“So why…” I begin. But I don’t want to be too nosy.

“Why am I here?” Matthew finishes. I nod, and he rolls his eyes. “Long story.”

I want to know more, but our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of another camper. She’s tall and has very long, very straight, very blond hair. Her eyes are lowered, but I think I catch a glimpse of blue through her lashes. She’s wearing a pink-and-white sundress that I’m sure Brianna approves of, and her skin is tanned, like she works as a lifeguard or on a farm or something. She smiles shyly and slips into an open seat without saying a word.

She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

I can’t stop staring. There’s something about this girl, something stronger than just her looks, that’s reeling me in. Maybe it’s how she folds her lower lip nervously under her front teeth. Or it could be the way she holds her shoulders, a pose that tells me she’s shy but also strong.

She looks up and meets my eyes. I was right—hers are blue. Big and bright and blue and as clear as the view of the moon from the beach back home. I should look away. But I can’t. She holds my gaze, and my heartbeat kicks into a sprint.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells are sounding.
Remember
what
happened
the
last
time
you
felt
like
this, Lexi?
But my brain must be disconnected from the rest of me, because my heart keeps pounding and my eyes keep staring.

The door swings open again, and our connection breaks—the girl looks away quickly, her cheeks flaming. Another camper joins the circle. I don’t notice if it’s a boy or a girl.

I wait a long time for her to look at me again, but she keeps her gaze away.

Even so, I can’t help the little buzz of anticipation that’s going through me.
She
likes
girls
too.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to New Horizons!” Mr. Martin says loudly, and I’m yanked back to reality.

The circle is now complete—I guess I missed the other camper arrivals while I was off in la-la land—and Mr. Martin is breezing through the door, his army of pinks and blues behind him.

Shame heats my face. What is
wrong
with me? I come here, desperate to do anything, try anything, to put my family back together, and that all goes out the window the minute I see a pretty girl? The only way this is going to work is if I give it my all. No more daydreaming.

The counselors hover along the fireplace wall side-by-side, and Mr. Martin strolls around the middle of the circle. His eyes land on each of us as he passes. “We are so happy to have you all here. By the end of this summer, you will be healed from this sickness that lives within you and your lives can begin anew. ‘Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.’ Psalm fifty-one, verse ten.”

Sickness? The word jumps out at me. I don’t
feel
sick. But in a weird way, thinking of it in those terms actually opens this whole de-gayifying thing up to possibility—most sicknesses can be healed, can’t they? You just have to catch it in time and be aggressive.

I glance at the blond girl. She’s watching Mr. Martin almost reverently. It seems she wants to change too. That’s good. If we’re both on the same page, it will be easier to ignore what I feel when I look at her.

Mr. Martin continues. “Now, who can tell me what SSA is?”

No one speaks.

“SSA stands for ‘same-sex attraction,’” Mr. Martin says. “You will be hearing and using that term a lot this summer as we work together to rid you of your SSA. Make no mistake—the work will be challenging and often uncomfortable for many of you. It’s a difficult process, but it can and will work. It worked for me and it will work for you.”

My head snaps up. Mr. Martin used to be gay?

He smiles. “Yes, you heard that correctly—I am on your side every step of the way because I used to be one of you. I understand you in ways no one else can—not your parents, not even
you
, since you haven’t yet reached the other end of the journey like I have. So please, feel free to come to me with any questions, fears, thoughts, or concerns. If there’s anything you need—anything at all—please let me know.” He takes the time to look at each one of us again. “We are a team, you and I.”

I find myself instantly relaxing, knowing that a man like Mr. Martin is in charge of the camp. He understands us; he’s
one
of us. He wouldn’t lead us astray.

“Allow me to introduce our wonderful staff of counselors,” Mr. Martin continues. He introduces Brianna as the head of the girls’ program, his second-in-command. I guess I’m going to be seeing a lot more of her. Great. I learn that the clean-cut blond man’s name is Arthur, and that an older woman with a tight, gray perm like my grandmother used to have is named Barbara. “And some of our counselors have sat exactly where you’re sitting now,” Mr. Martin says. “Deb, John, Kaylee, will you step forward, please?” The braid woman, the freckle guy, and the young redhead emerge from the line and smile at us. “Deb, John, and Kaylee here, like myself, used to struggle with SSA. But they have taken control of their lives. Let them serve as inspiration for you as you embark on your work here at New Horizons.”

Everyone here is so open and honest about their past! And the de-gayifying worked so well for them that they’ve actually dedicated their
lives
to helping others go through the same thing. It’s inspiring. And look at Kaylee—she’s so cool. She clearly hasn’t had to give up her style or who she is in order to become straight. I decide in this moment that I’m going to be just like her.

“Now,” Mr. Martin says, “we are going to split you up into groups of four. Two boys, two girls. The group you are assigned to will be your group for the entire summer. Apart from the exercises that require the boys and girls to be separated, your group of four will spend every waking moment together. You will have meals together, participate in the majority of reparative therapy exercises together, and spend your leisure hours together.”

“Why?” Matthew asks. He’s the first camper to speak since the counselors entered the room.

Mr. Martin’s smile melts away. “To keep each other accountable. It’s easy to give in to the feelings and desires caused by your sickness. Your group members are there to make sure you don’t relapse.” He picks up the crumpled, blue New Horizons shirt and holds it pointedly out to Matthew. His demeanor emanates friendliness, kinship, but I can’t help but feel this is a challenge. Matthew crosses his arms and glares stubbornly back at him. But Mr. Martin isn’t going to budge. He stands there, shirt in hand, waiting.

The thickening tension in the room makes the cabin even hotter. No one moves. No one says anything.

I can’t stand this. “Take it,” I whisper to Matthew, and, finally, he does.

“Remember,” Mr. Martin says, “there will always be eyes on you.”

“Super,” Matthew mutters so low that I think I may be the only one who hears him. He slips the shirt over his head.

Brianna steps in and begins dividing us up, seemingly at random. I sit very still in my chair and watch as she picks us out, one by one. I’m not in the first group. Neither is the blond girl. Brianna comes very close to her as she chooses people for group two, and I hold my breath, but she picks the girl sitting next to her instead. I exhale. I know I’m not supposed to, but I want to be in a group with her. There’s no harm in being friends, right? Maybe we can even help each other with the de-gayifying stuff.

As they’re assigned their groups, the other campers start dragging their chairs over to their designated corners of the room.

Brianna taps her sparkly fingernails against the corner of her mouth as she decides who should be in the next group. “Matthew…Daniel…” she says. She points at the girl. “Carolyn…”

Carolyn. That’s her name.

“…and…”

Me! Pick me!

“Alexis.”

Yes!

The four of us slide our chairs into a little cluster. Carolyn is right next to me, but she still doesn’t look at me. I’m trying to come up with something not stupid to say when counselor Deb joins us.

“Hello,” she says. Even though the creepy “what is a woman” trials are over, she still has that distant look about her. I can’t tell if she’s acting like this on purpose, or if that’s just how her face is. “Please introduce yourselves to each other. Remember to state your age and where you’re from.” She gestures to Matthew to go first.

“I’m Matthew,” he says. “I’m sixteen years old, and I don’t need a governess!”

We all stare at him.

“
The
Sound
of
Music
? Liesl? No one?” He sighs, disappointed. “Okay, actually I’m seventeen, and I live in San Diego. Better?”

“Much,” Deb says flatly. I grin at Matthew across the small circle.

A skinny boy with rimless glasses goes next. “I’m Daniel. I’m fifteen.” His hands are shaking. “Um…what else am I supposed to say again?”

“Where you’re from,” Deb says.

“Oh yeah. West Virginia.”

My turn. “Hi, I’m Lexi.” Deb, Matthew, and Daniel are all looking directly at me, but Carolyn’s hair has fallen forward in a sleek sheet, blocking her face. “I’m from South Carolina, and I’m seventeen.”

Carolyn pushes her hair back. “I’m Carolyn.” God, even her voice is pretty. “I’m sixteen. And I’m from Connecticut.”

Deb rattles down a list of camp rules.

No
touching
a
camper
of
the
same
sex
at
any
time
for
any
reason
unless
at
the
direction
and
in
the
presence
of
a
counselor.

No
using
profanity.

Be
supportive
of
your
fellow
campers
and
help
them
stay
accountable. Report any questionable behavior to Mr. Martin immediately.

Obey
the
counselors
at
all
times—insubordination will not be tolerated.

No
unsupervised
phone
calls.

Campers
must
remain
in
approved
camp
areas
at
all
times
unless
specifically
directed
otherwise
by
a
counselor.

Designated
meal, sleep, and prayer times will be observed by all campers.

No
unsupervised
meetings
between
campers
of
the
same
sex. Improper fraternizing carries the penalty of immediate expulsion.

She says that last one with added emphasis, giving me the impression that that’s the most important rule of all.

When Deb is done with her lecture, Mr. Martin saunters over. “I’ll take over here, Deb,” he says. “Why don’t you go see if Barbara needs help with her group?” After Deb has left, he pulls up a seat. His hands thread together and he leans forward, elbows on knees. “The first step in battling any addiction is admitting you have a problem. And that’s a good way to think of your SSA—as an addiction.”

“I thought it was a sickness,” Matthew counters.

“They’re one and the same. Haven’t you ever heard addiction described as a disease?”

Matthew just shrugs.

“So,” Mr. Martin continues, “like any addiction, you may feel that it is out of your hands and that you are dependent on it. But that’s not true. It’s
not
part of you. You can work to control it. And you will be better off without it.” The soothing, certain way he forms his words makes it impossible to not believe him. He gives us a warm smile. “Don’t worry; we’ll start slow. Today’s session will simply be about sharing your individual stories with your group. What is your experience with SSA? When did you first start having these feelings? What brings you to New Horizons? Be honest with each other—it’s the only way to build the trust that is absolutely essential for your therapy to thrive.”

That’s starting
slow
? Oh yeah, just tell a bunch of people you just met your deepest, most private thoughts. No biggie.

“Who would like to go first?”

There are a few moments of edgy silence, like when a teacher asks who wants to be the first one to give a presentation in front of the whole class.

But then Daniel speaks. “I will,” he says, his voice faint.

We all whip our heads around to look at him. Even Mr. Martin looks surprised that this timid, young boy is the first one to volunteer. “Excellent!” he says, pleased.

“I hate who I am,” Daniel says. “That’s why I’m here.”

Mr. Martin nods thoughtfully. “Remember, Daniel, your SSA is not
who
you are. It’s something that’s been done
to
you. It’s not your fault.”

“Well, I want it to stop.”

“When did you first become aware of your SSA?”

He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. But I know the first time I acted on it.” He pauses again, and I wonder if that’s all he’s going to say.

“It’s okay, Daniel. This is a safe space,” Mr. Martin says, his voice warm.

Daniel takes a deep, wavering breath. “I was eleven. My friend Colin fell and cut his knee in gym class, and the teacher asked me to help him get to the nurse. The nurse was busy with another student when we got there, so we had to wait. Colin’s knee was all bloody and he was crying, and I didn’t want him to be hurting, and I didn’t know what to do, and before I could stop myself, I just leaned over and kissed him. On the lips. I don’t know why I did it.” He breaks off as his eyes fill with tears. When he speaks again, his voice is even quieter. I have to strain to hear. “It was like I’d given him an electric shock. He jerked away and hit me—hard—across the face. I ran away and prayed to God for days and days, begging him to make me normal.” He turns his body toward Mr. Martin but keeps his head down. “I would have come here sooner, but you have to be at least fifteen.”