Marcus’s POV
The campfire crackled in the center of the circle, casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. The storytelling activity was supposed to be about motivation, but the energy in the group was more like dread.
The camp leader clapped his hands. “All right, everyone! Let’s get started. Marcus, you’re up.”
I sighed, standing reluctantly. Public speaking wasn’t my thing, but I wasn’t about to let anyone know that.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and glanced around the circle. “The happiest moment of my life?” I started, my voice steady. “It was when I was named captain of the basketball team.”
A few people nodded, and someone in the back muttered, “Classic jock.”
I ignored them, continuing. “It wasn’t just about the title. It was the first time I felt like I could actually accomplish something. Like I had earned it, you know?”
A few heads bobbed in agreement. I glanced at Stacey, who was staring into the fire like she wanted to throw something into it.
I wrapped up quickly, sitting back down and leaning toward her. “You’re up,” I said quietly.
She shot me a glare that could’ve melted steel.
The camp leader called her name, and she rolled her eyes, standing with obvious reluctance.
“This is so mushy,” she said flatly. “I don’t do mushy.”
The leader smiled, undeterred. “Well, if you want to stay in school next semester, you’re going to have to do mushy. Just one story, Stacey.”
A few campers started chanting her name, but it quickly fizzled when she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain.
The circle fell silent, everyone waiting.
“My mom and I moved to the city when I was 16,” Stacey began, her voice steadier than I expected. “My dad... he wasn’t around. He left us, and my mom—she came from a good family, but in their eyes, she was a disgrace. No one in her family had ever been divorced.”
She paused, her gaze fixed on the fire.
“We were behind on everything. Bills, rent, you name it. But my mom—she didn’t give up. She got a job, then another. And one day, she came home and said, ‘Stacey, I’m sending you to the best school in the city. I got the promotion.’”
Her voice wavered, but she pushed on. “She was so happy. So proud of herself. And I was proud of her too.”
The group was silent, captivated.
Stacey’s eyes flicked up then, and she stiffened. Monica had entered the circle, standing at the edge like she didn’t belong.
Stacey’s expression hardened, and her voice turned icy. “My mother never asked anyone for help. Even when it was too hard, she kept going. That’s the kind of motivation I want. Grit. Not mushy stuff. Grit to keep living, even when you feel like you’re dead inside.”
She sat down abruptly, crossing her arms as if daring anyone to comment.
The leader cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well said, Stacey. Thank you.”
I leaned closer, whispering, “You okay?”
She didn’t look at me, her jaw tight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
But I could see the tears in her eyes.
And for once, I didn’t push her.