God Damn Guns


Jerome was a Counselor-in-Training after years of coming to camp as a camper. He was fifteen and always smiling, bright white teeth standing out against his dark skin. He laughed a lot, too. He laughed the day I yelled at him for diving headfirst from the dock into the shallow lake. At twenty years old, I was the head lifeguard. I felt a wave of panic as I waited for him to resurface. As soon as he did my panic was replaced with fury; the last thing I needed was a CiT modeling dangerous behavior. I started to holler but couldn’t sustain my anger. He laughed and laughed and laughed as he apologized profusely and swore he wouldn’t do it again.

He was so joyous, so young, so beautiful, so classically invincible.

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