Free Twelve by Lauren Myracle

in the river. First I’d had my last Camp Winding Gap Special, then my last (and first) skinny-dip in the pond, and now this, the last time I might ever sail a bark boat down Horse Pasture River. It felt familiar, this parade of melancholy “lasts,” and I didn’t know why. But then I realized. It was like graduation, with its similar string of good-byes.
    So much sadness, last month leaving sixth grade and now leaving camp. But this time, while it was true that I was losing something, I’d also gotten something back: Amanda. I wouldn’t say it out loud. I didn’t need to. Still, it was a gift that had dropped down from the sky. We both needed a reminder of how great we were, that’s all.
    Anyway, this was a happy sort of sadness, a sadness to sink into and enjoy. The candles on our boats flickered as they set off on their journeys, and our voices filled the air with wistful song. “Silently flows the river to the sea, and the barges, too, go silently. Barges, I would like to go with you, I would like to sail the ocean blue. ”

August
    THE COOL THING ABOUT AMANDA, as opposed two Dinah, was that Amanda didn’t always let me be the leader. With Dinah, I was the one who’d say what we would do, and then we’d do it, and it would be fun, because I was a genius with such things. And I liked how Dinah would giggle and make me feel brilliant, like the time we attached a fishing line to a tangerine and flushed it down the toilet, then tugged it back out again. Now that was high entertainment. And gross. But mainly high entertainment.
    Amanda, on the other hand, shot my ideas down when she thought they were stupid. Then she’d suggest ideas of her own, which was how we started hanging out at the trampoline. It was originally Amanda and Gail Grayson’s secret place, but Gail was at equestrian camp and therefore out of the picture. Anyway, it wasn’t as if I barged in without permission. Amanda led me to the trampoline herself, hidden in the woods behind the Graysons’ condominium complex. She knew I’d appreciate it, and I did. A secret trampoline, rusty and abandoned, with one big hole in the corner that you had to stay away from. But other than that, absolutely perfect.
    â€œHow did you find this place?” I asked, timing my words to match my bounces. I loved how free I felt, like an astronaut springing across the moon.
    Amanda bounced across from me, going up when I went down and down when I went up. That way we got maximum jumpability.
    â€œGail and I were just out exploring one day,” Amanda said. “We don’t know why it’s here, or who left it. And I’m sure my mom would think it’s dangerous, so don’t say anything.”
    I rolled my eyes. Like I’d be that stupid.
    â€œToo bad Gail can’t be here with us, huh?” I said. I didn’t mean it, but I wanted to try out the possibility of being generous. Or maybe I was hoping for more. Maybe I wanted Amanda to look puzzled and say, Who? Or if not that, at least, Nah, it’s better with just us .
    Instead Amanda said, “Oh, I know. I miss her so much. First I was at camp, and now she is. Is that totally unfair or what?”
    â€œTotally,” I mumbled. I bounced high, then dropped to my knees, then back to my feet. “Try that,” I said.
    â€œEasy,” Amanda said, copying me without a struggle. “Try this.” She dropped to her knees, then bounced and landed on her butt, then bounced back to standing. I tried, but my bounce wasn’t high enough to get back off my butt.
    â€œJust as I suspected,” Amanda said.
    â€œOh, please. You’ve practiced way more.”
    Amanda showed off, doing a knee-drop followed by a flip. She grinned.
    I grinned back. I didn’t care that she was better than me. I was just happy to be hanging out with her. Would Dinah be able to do a knee-drop-flip? I don’t think so. And maybe it