Gage
The soda in my red solo cup was nothing but a prop, a way for us to pretend like we were part of some college frat party instead of a summer camp gathering. The carbonation fizzed against my tongue, flat and sweet, but no one seemed to care. It wasn’t about the taste. It was about the illusion—the easy disguise that let us relax and laugh like we were doing something just a little bit reckless, even though Rachel would never let alcohol anywhere near this place. She was proud of this setup, of making us feel like adults while keeping everything in control.
And tonight? Tonight was her crown jewel. The first karaoke night of the summer. She had been buzzing about it all week, arranging the playlist, checking the equipment, stringing up lights as if she was prepping a stage for a full
