Free The One That I Want by Marilyn Brant

this time? I remember how much you were crushing on him during our junior year.”
    I nodded. “Yeah, time is weird that way. He’s an adult now, but a part of me still sees that shy, handsome teenage boy he once was. My eyes are looking at him through the lens of a high schooler.”
    “That’s normal,” Yvette said. “Though—” She paused.
    “Though what?”
    “Well, I’m not sure ‘shy’ is the right word to describe how he was in high school.”
    “You thought he was talkative?”
    Yvette shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. But my brother Jim was a senior in the same graduating class as Kristopher. He had a different impression of him back then.”
    I raised my eyebrows and motioned for her to explain.
    My friend checked her rearview mirror, changed lanes, and then snagged a quick glance at the still-singing girls in the backseat before continuing. “Jim said that Kristopher was athletic and good at just about every sport, which made him instantly popular. When the basketball or baseball team would go somewhere to hang out, he was always invited and he’d almost always go along.”
    “He was one of our high school’s star players, Yvette. Everyone knew that.”
    “True. My brother said that as long as the conversation stayed on sports, Kristopher could hold his own. He was never quiet or shy during these outings—”
    “Sports had always been his favorite topic, so I guess that doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “He had only so much enthusiasm for other things.”
    “Maybe,” my friend said, but she was hedging, I could tell.
    “Why the tone? What else did your brother say?”
    She exhaled. “Jim said that he used to clam up only when talk turned personal—parents, siblings, girlfriends. That he didn’t confide anything deep with anyone. He didn’t have a best friend. He didn’t even have an arch enemy.” She shrugged. “My brother thought Kristopher wasn’t shy so much as secretive. That he had something to hide.”
    I felt my jaw drop open, and I was conscious of wanting to contradict her but unsure how to do it. What she said rang true.
    “Mom!” Brooke interrupted from the backseat. “Can we pleeeease put in the Owl City CD that Uncle Eddie gave us?”
    Yvette sighed, rolled her eyes, and whispered something about having heard this particular album over three million times already. But she called back to the girls and said, “Sure.” Then, under her breath to me, she added, “What’s three million and one, right?”
    ~*~
    The drop off at Camp Willowgreen went as smoothly as could be expected. On one hand, it was a stunningly quick procedure, designed to pull off the bandage of separation swiftly. On the other hand, the half hour transition felt to me like we were running in slow motion. A trick of real-life cinematography or something.
    Analise was visibly shaken at the camp counselor’s announcement that parents would need to leave. Her smiles from the moment before disappeared. She dropped the small tote bag she was carrying and clung to me, the way she had as a toddler before a “Mommy & Me” tumbling class.
    The counselor for Analise’s cabin—Shannon—tilted her head in concern and walked slowly toward us.
    I was hugging my daughter and, at the same time, trying to detach from her. One of the hardest moments of my life.
    “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” I whispered. “Your friends are here, and I’m just a phone call away. Don’t worry.”
    “I don’t want you to go,” my daughter murmured, her voice trembling.
    I stroked her hair, giving in to the urge to pull her closer and let her bury her head against my chest. How did they expect me to let go when she was holding me so tight?
    Shannon placed a soft hand on each of our shoulders. She smiled kindly at me and then, turning to Analise, she said, “I know you’re going to miss your mom, but our cabin wouldn’t be complete without you here. And we’re going to need your help this afternoon with the