Family Reunion Nancy Thayer (summer reads .txt) 📖

squealing and pushing and complaining, fifteen children seated themselves in the sand in a loose circle. Sandy pulled Ari to sit down next to her across from Cal.

“Who has the feather today?” Cal asked.

“I do!” A boy around six waved his hands eagerly. His tee was stained and too small for him, but his smile reached to his ears.

“Okay, Gabriel, you start our day off with our morning prayer.”

In a high clear voice, Gabriel said, “Today I want to thank Tonatiuh, the Aztec god of the Sun. Because of him, we have food and…my mother told me, but I forgot the rest.”

“That was awesome, Gabriel!” Cal said. “Okay, camp, let’s all thank Tonatiuh, who is giving us this sunny day.”

Fifteen kids yelled their thanks so loudly that Ari was certain Tonatiuh, reclining up in the sun, had no choice but to hear.

Next, they went around the circle, everyone calling out their names. When they came to Ari, Sandy spoke up. “This is Ari, our new camp counselor! Everyone say hello to Ari!”

“Hello!” Ari called back.

“What do you like, Ari?” Sandy asked.

Ari was comfortable with this kind of interaction. She grinned and threw her arms out. “I like tacos and pizza! I like books about dogs. I like kids. And I like the ocean best!”

The kids hooted and applauded in agreement.

She smiled at seven boys and eight girls as they introduced themselves. The oldest child was a girl named Maria, the youngest, a boy named Casper. Ari tried to remember each child’s name, but she knew it would come with time.

After the morning circle, Sandy, Greg, and Cal organized the kids for several games: Traffic Cop, Simon Says, Capture the Flag. This would be an educational summer for her, Ari thought, watching fifteen children, some of whom didn’t understand the rules, and several of whom didn’t care about the rules but instead ran as hard as they could into another camper, shrieking and wrestling and screaming with laughter. Ari gently peeled the kids apart, helped make important decisions about who won, and consoled the youngest girl who kept coming to Ari to cry about a scratch on her arm. After the third time, Ari got it that this girl, Sheba, really wanted to sit in her lap.

When the children stopped caring about the rules of the game and threw themselves on the ground laughing and kicking, Cal blew his whistle lightly and told the children it was time to swim. They screamed with delight and splashed into the water.

Around noon, Cal announced it was time to go to the vans and to the school for lunch. Ari was amazed to see that it was after twelve. The counselors and kids raced toward the parking lot, where two well-used gray Honda Odysseys were parked next to each other. The words BEACH CAMP were painted in bright red six-inch-high letters. The kids had a free-for-all trying to get a seat next to their friends, and the noise level rose a few decibels, but finally they were all in with their seatbelts on.

“You ride up front with me, Ari,” Sandy said, and they were off.

At the community school, the children were guided into the bathrooms to use the facilities and wash their hands. Afterward, they gathered in the classroom at the end of a hallway. Cal and Sandy handed a yoga mat to each child, who dutifully spread the mat out and sat on it cross-legged. An anticipatory mood rolled through the air. Ari thought the children seemed to be holding their breath. From the refrigerator in the room, Cal and Sandy brought out brown paper bags and handed them out to the children.

“What do you say?” the counselors reminded the children, who quickly responded, “Thank you.”

Ari watched the children tear into their lunches. Peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat, a small cup of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, three carrot sticks, a gingerbread cookie, and, in reusable bottles, water.

The counselors sat at their own round table at the front of the room, looking out at the kids, who were all too deeply involved with eating to talk to one another. Greg quietly left for the day, so it was Sandy, Cal, and Ari at the table.

“How do you like Beach Camp so far?” Sandy asked.

Cal was eating with one hand while texting with the other.

“I love it,” Ari answered. “But I wondered…” She lowered her voice. “The kids in the other camp all had matching shirts. Wouldn’t it help give the kids a sense of belonging—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Sandy said, sounding rather terse. “Our kids are not from wealthy homes. Beach Camp has been operating for two years, and we’ve raised grant money to buy those two used vans you saw, and the yoga mats, and all the toys and balls, and Cal and I make all the food ourselves. Sure, matching tees would be awesome, but first we need to pay for gas and insurance for transportation, and necessary medical supplies like thermometers and Band-Aids and state and local paperwork—oh, and to pay our counselors, of course.”

Ari felt chastened. “I hadn’t thought about all the other expenses.”

“Look.” Sandy reached over and took Ari’s hand. “I didn’t mean to depress you. These kids are so lucky to have this camp. And to be clear, I need the money. I don’t feel a pinch of guilt for taking my pay. You shouldn’t, either. It’s enough that you’re helping these kids have a great summer so their parents don’t have to leave them alone all day with the television while they work.”

After lunch, the kids filed up one by one to put their trash in the basket. They returned to their yoga mats for rest and reading period. Some children curled up and fell asleep at once, others lay there mumbling to themselves, and others lay propped on their elbows, chin in hand, reading. The counselors took turns leaving the room for the bathroom and to check their phones. After forty-five minutes,