“Birds don’t talk.”

“Yes, they do. You’re just not listening closely enough.”

“You’re so weird, Kennedy.”

I smiled bigger. “Thanks, Jax.” I scrunched up my nose. “Hey, is your name just Jax or is it longer?”

“It’s Jaxson, but only my mom calls me that.”

“Jaxson,” I sang. “Oh, I like that more. I like calling people by their longer name. Like Matthew, or Nicholas, or Samantha. My dad’s name is Tim, but Mama calls him Timothy. She said longer names are sosipcated.”

“You mean sophisticated,” he corrected.

I narrowed my eyes. “Say it again, but slow.”

“So—phis—ti—ca—ted,” he dragged out.

“So—phis—ti—ca—ted,” I echoed, smiling big at him. “Thanks. Sometimes I talk so fast I get tongue-tied and my words come out wrong, and other times I just don’t know the right words, and it’s helpful when someone is around to give me the words I meant, so thank you.” I took a deep breath. “Hey, can I call you Jaxson?”

“No!” he barked, a wrinkle forming on his forehead. “I told you—only my mom calls me that.”

“Wow.” I shook my head. “Your mom is so lucky. So, do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Go talk to the birds?”

“Does your mind always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Think a million thoughts at once.”

“Oh.” I scrunched my nose and wiggled my lips. “Yeah, I think so. Well, okay, I’d love to stick around and talk, but if I don’t get out there, I’ll miss the birds, and I don’t know if they’d know what to do without my morning conversation. Bye, Jax! See ya around, buckaroo!”

I tossed on my backpack, which was packed with goodies for any adventures I might wander into throughout the day. I had Nutri-Grain bars, bubbles, and a bottle of water. Whenever my parents, my sister, and I went on adventures back home, Mama would always pack the Nutri-Grain bars, and Daddy would have big jugs of water for us to sip from.

I left Jax in my cabin as I headed out to go sing to the birds. I loved being at camp because we were right in the middle of the woods. The girls’ cabins sat in a nice clearing in the forest, with lilac bushes planted right outside the door. When the wind blew, you’d be hit with the scent of flowers, which I loved the most. Lilacs were Mama’s favorite flower, and smelling them each morning when I walked outside made me a little less homesick. The air still smelled like rain, and I made sure to puddle-jump each time I saw a pool of water as I whistled and wandered through the woods.

Each day, I shared a bread roll I’d taken from the previous night’s dinner to feed to the birds, and boy, did they love it. They’d scoop and dive for the treat while I sat on a log and listened to their beautiful songs.

As I sat down upon my log and went digging through my backpack, I began my conversation with the birds then was quickly interrupted by the sound of a boy clearing his throat.

I turned around to see Jax standing there in his pajamas with his clothes from yesterday folded perfectly in his arms.

I smiled, and this time, my smile was enough to get him to smile, too. I went digging in my backpack again and pulled out a strawberry Nutri-Grain bar. It was my last strawberry one, which was my favorite, but I held it out toward Jax. “Want one?”

He hesitated for a second and looked around the campground as if he was worried about someone catching him hanging out with a weirdo like me. Then he took a breath and walked toward me. He took the bar from my hand and looked up at the trees, gazing at the birds.

“What kind are out here?” he asked as he unwrapped his bar and took a very small bite from it.

“Oh, you know. There’s the red-eyed lonnie, and the grayed jasper, and the eriken,” I said matter-of-factly.

Jax looked at me with a raised brow and confusion in his eyes. “Did you just make all of that up?”

“Yup.”

“Of course you did.”

We began eating our bars and talking to the birds. Well, I talked while Jax kind of just mumbled to himself. As the sun began to come all the way up, Jaxson took a swig from a water bottle I’d given him. “Is your full name Kennedy?”

“Yup. It means helmeted chief. Dad said it means I’ll be a leader and protected from bad things. My older sister’s name is Yoana, which means God is gracious, which fits her because she’s pretty awesome.” I tilted my head. “What does your name mean?”

“Oh, it’s stupid.”

“I doubt that—no name meaning is stupid.”

“Mine is, trust me.”

“Just tell me already.”

He grumbled and sighed. “Jaxson means son of Jack.”

“Oh.” I nodded in understanding. “Is your dad’s name Jack?”

“No. It’s Cole.”

“Hm. Yeah, you’re right—that is a stupid name meaning. Let’s make up our own for you. How about…Jaxson means hero. That way you’re strong and can always save people no matter what.”