The Trouble Is

Chapter 2: The Official Start

I've made it as far as a quick shower and am standing in front of my closet when Katie blows into my room and throws herself across my bed. I didn't hear her car, so I'm pretty sure she cut through our back yard to come supervise my first day of summer. Katie lives a few streets over, and it's the kind of neighborhood where no one seems to mind that we have an established path between houses. She's wearing a short little white skirt, an untucked, tied-at-the-waist button-down shirt that is probably her brother's, and Tory Burch shiny gold sandals. If I didn't love her, I would probably hate her. She makes summer look so easy.

"What's Doug up to?" I ask, knowing that if she cut through the back yard, she would have a pretty good idea what this summer's adventure is all about. Doug usually has some kind of plan that involves his buddies destroying the neighborhood with water guns or shaving cream or dirt bombs or war paint. My parents get the occasional complaint; however, most of the parents are secretly happy that Doug rounds up all the little kids each summer for his own little version of summer camp. One summer they dressed as pirates and made elaborate treasure maps. Doug had Skip out there every night with a shovel and a flashlight burying yet another bucket of candy, paper airplanes, army men, or balloons. By the end of the summer, you couldn't even walk through the yard without breaking an ankle.

"Putting up a tent," she answers while she digs around in the bedside table. Gum, ChapStick, pencils, and pens go tumbling around in the drawer. This is her little test. She will be counting now, testing me. I guess it's not really me she is testing; it's my ability to control my OCD tendencies. OCD stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I think "disorder" is a strong label. It's really more of a penchant. (How's that for an SAT word?) For me, it just means I like things lined up in order and can get anxious when this is not possible. If you look up OCD online, you will find entertaining pictures where one item is not aligned or a single tile on the floor is out of place. That's supposed to make people with OCD crazy. But I don't think that's my kind of OCD. I do like things all aligned, but that's the simplest explanation. Beyond that, it's that I have to do things exactly the same every time or I need to start over. I put my deodorant on with five swipes for each underarm. I often have to go back and check to make sure my straightener is unplugged before heading to school. And by "go back," I mean go back again and again—three times.

"Any idea why he needs a tent?" I ask. I focus on my shoes. They should be perfectly lined up in the closet, sorted by style and color. Two pair are slightly misaligned. I straighten and straighten again. Katie continues to rummage around. I breathe in, breathe out. I count to ten, or at least I try to count to ten. I make it to six before reaching over and yanking her hand out of the drawer and realigning the contents.

Katie smiles a bit sadly, no doubt recalling that just a few short months ago I had made it to a new record of fifteen. But a lot has changed in those few short months, so she doesn't push me this time.

"I think he's starting his own cult," she says with a laugh. "I love how that little guy is just always up to something. He definitely creates his own brand of happiness. Someday I'll write a book about his summers. I'll call it The Intensely Grand and Glorious Adventures of Little Doug."

She has some kind of special connection with Doug. I don't really know what it's based on; they've always had this thing between them. They just get each other in that weird, cosmic connection kind of way. He lets her call him Dougie and Little Doug and chooses her to help with summer things like Band-Aids and sunscreen.

"He wants to borrow our folding chairs for when his friends come over," she says. She makes it sound like our moms are borrowing punch bowls—just so ordinary. "I told him yeah, but his little gang will have to help him haul them over here. I've got no time for that today.