The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 23: Finn

I walk back to my cabin after the campfire feeling more than ready to go to bed. Today has been simply exhausting, and arguing with Becca all night has left me feeling more drained than an empty Capri-Sun.

I'm excited to finally be able to close my eyes and get some sleep, until I realize that my day isn't over yet— I still have one more task to complete before I can let my head the pillow. Three letters wait for me on my bedside table. Three letters, all bearing news from some foreign outside world.

I think back to the conversation I had with Ronan earlier, and the single letter he received from the mysterious Jesse. I can't picture the idea of Ronan having friends, but maybe he only acts like a dick when he's at camp. I doubt that Jesse would go to all the trouble of sending a letter to Alaska if she (Jesse is a female name, right?) didn't care about Ronan in some way. She must really be his best friend. Or, better yet, his girlfriend.

I make a mental note to grill Ronan about this later. I barely know anything about his personal life, and I can't help but be curious about his life of luxury in New York City.

The cabin is dark when I get back, so I assume that by some stroke of luck Ronan has already gone to sleep. I enter the cabin as quietly as possible, trying my hardest not to step on a creaky floorboard and wake him up (I don't need to give him more reasons to get mad at me), but then the light turns on and I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Did you enjoy the campfire?" Ronan asks. He's sitting upright in his bed, and is very much awake.

"Jesus, Ronan. You scared the shit out of me."

"Aw, did you really think that I was asleep? I'm flattered."

"Did you turn the light off just to scare me when I got back?"

"Maybe."

I glare at him. "I hope your insomnia gets worse."

"Ouch. I'm not going to lie, that one stung."

I turn my back on him and start getting ready for bed. I'm used to undressing in a locker-room full of guys, so changing into my pajamas in front of Ronan doesn't really bother me. He always looks away, of course. Like the sight of my bare chest could strike him dead on the spot.

I'm too tired to bother walking all the way to the bathrooms to shower, so I just brush my teeth outside with my finger and the water from my water-bottle and do my business in the woods. The temperature is already starting to drop, even though the sun hasn't gone down yet, and I'm still shivering after wrapping myself in all my sheets and blankets. Alaska can be one cold bitch at night, and the paper-thin walls of the cabin do nothing to insulate us against the chill.

"Can I turn the light off?" I ask, once my teeth have stopped clattering.

"Lights on, lights off— I could care less. It's not like it's going to help me fall asleep."

"You sound like an old man." I pull the curtains shut and lean over to flick off the light, plunging the cabin into darkness.

Then, when I'm completely sure that Ronan isn't paying attention to me anymore, I draw my flashlight out from under my pillow, bury my head under the covers, and get started on my letters.

The first one is, of course, from mom. Her writing meanders from thought to thought, sometimes saying how sorry she is that I have to waste my summer in Alaska, and other times stating that the camp and fresh air will be good for me, a necessary break from my troublesome ways in Indiana. She discusses the Twins' mishaps (apparently they pushed a girl into a lake during one of their Girl Scouts camping trips) and frets over the Alaskan weather, once again reiterating her wish that I brought a warm jacket to wear in the evenings. It's a pleasant letter to read, and it fills me with a warm feeling of home. When I imagine mom sitting down and writing the letter with one of her special gel teacher pens, I feel a little less bitter about her sending me to Lightlake in the first place. I'm not used to getting into fights with my mom, and I can't ever stay mad at her for long.