Somewhere in the White Mountains of Arizona, in a hot and stuffy cabin by the edge of Hawley Lake, the outline of Matthew L. Bernhardt can barely be discerned in the darkness as he sits, silently, on the floor of the common room. Despite the seventy other faces softly illuminated by the candles at the center of the room, Matthew is only aware of the two papers folded neatly in half and placed on the tile in front of him. Not even the subtle fragrance of the candles or the persistent howling of the wind outside resonates with him. He simply sits; staring at the floor with such concentration, such intensity, that an outsider looking on might think he is trying to etch something into the tile with his gaze. This is the end of the line – a long and passionate line – for Matthew and twelve of his peers.
“Whenever you are ready, please enter the circle and we will begin.”
Amazingly it got quieter than it had been before this statement, as if the words themselves sucked a little bit of the life out of the room and through the window where it was lost in the darkness. Despite his current disposition, Matthew couldn’t help but snicker to himself at the request. So if he refused to ever be “ready” did that mean he never had to slide across the dust covered cabin floor towards the middle of the room? If he were to choose so, did it mean that he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to his closest friends and the organization that had shaped his life for the past six years? No, unfortunately, it didn’t mean either of these things. With each passing second Matthew came closer to exiting. It was a moment he knew was looming in the future ever since he became a Peer Leader, but it was a moment he never accepted he would actually have to confront.
Even though the ceremony was nothing new to him, the experience he was going to have this time around would be. He had sat through it three times prior, but never as an exiter. This time was going to be different. This time was going to be special. This time the focus was on him. No longer an observer, Matthew was now a part of the main event. All of the weekend’s festivities culminating here and now, in the hopes that Matthew and his twelve fellow fourth-years will impart some sort of wisdom upon those lucky enough to still just be witnesses.
As he raises his gaze from the floor to survey the room his mind starts to race. He finds he is feeling slightly peeved at his current situation. He’s angry. “YOU CAN’T MAKE ME LEAVE!” echoes… in his head. But yes, yes they can. He knows that it was time to let go, but he isn’t ready to admit it. His anger is rapidly replaced with a much lonelier feeling, fear. His eyes dart from face to face, hoping for some look of reassurance, some sign that there isn’t any justification for the feeling in the pit of his stomach. All he needs is for someone to return his gaze so that he can take a second to compose himself.
"Eye contact, eye contact, eye contact!” someone had written on the back of the board. Someone always wrote it on the back of the board.
“Original,” says Jameson as he stands in the Peer Leader zone studying the comments. Nothing annoys him more than pointless or redundant comments on the board.
"At least that’s our biggest problem this week,” Matthew says, reaching up to wipe the eye contact comment off of the board. “If things were going any smoother with these participants I’d be worried we were missing something.”
“Well anything is going to seem smooth compared to the kids that participated in week two.”
“True, true, but I think they’re just at that age during week two – old enough to have all the issues associated with growing up but still too young to deal with any of them,” but that’s what Jameson, Matthew, and each of their fellow Peer Leaders are there for. Their organization is not unlike an oasis in a desert. This is not just because it takes place in an air-conditioned room in Arizona during the summer, but also because it provides a much needed safe haven for Scottsdale’s youth. Where else do teens have where they can talk about their feelings? Where else can teens go in this day and age to talk about the issues facing them as they grow and develop? Matthew didn’t know of any. After all, he did sacrificed comfortable summers in San Francisco each year to be a part of this group, despite the scorching heat of the Arizona summer. This group is special. Katie pushes past the boys to fill the newly vacant space on the board with, “We need more eye contact!” Jameson has to walk away.
Matthew’s attention returns to the papers patiently lying on the floor in front of him. Slowly and quietly he reaches down to pick them up. He doesn’t unfold them. He doesn’t look at them. He doesn’t need to. All that is written on them is chicken scratch. A feeble attempt to organize what he wants to say to the people that have meant so much to him. He lets out a sigh, folding the papers one more time before sliding them into his pocket. In a last fleeting moment of optimism Matthew hopes no one will make the move. If they stand together and no one breaks maybe they can all just stay. Then, as if on cue, Nathan starts to make his way towards the candles. So much for being optimistic. It’s time to say goodbye, whether Matthew likes it or not.
