Max rubbed his jaw, briefly hiding the smile he couldn’t contain. There were moments like this every so often that popped up and reminded him that Cody was only thirteen—his youngest camper, and in so many ways, still a child. It brought comfort—that maybe Cody wasn’t too far gone after all—yet also, unease. Kids in Cody’s position didn’t need to be naive or gullible about themselves, either.
“Yes, like that. And also, like, not sneaking out of the house to vandalize your school.” He hardened his pointed stare, and Cody ducked his head.
Mission accomplished. He’d gotten through. Now to move forward.
“You’re doing really well here.” He waited until Cody glanced up at him, and smiled, willing the boy to relax and not shut down again. “I’m proud of your accomplishments.”
The straight line of his shoulders sagged slightly, and his eyebrows perked. “So I’m going to pass?”
“That’s up to you.” Max shrugged, the casual move a contradiction to the urgency in his gut. He still wasn’t certain why Cody passing the program mattered so much to him personally. He cared about all his campers, and it ate at him the few times he’d had to send teenagers home early for consistently destructive behavior. He couldn’t save them all, and he knew that.
But he really wanted to save Cody.
It had to be his ties to Emma, which hopefully Cody was still unaware of. It’d be hard for him to trust Max if he felt Max was more on his mom’s side than his own.
Which was true in some ways—but not necessarily in others. He knew no parent was perfect, but until he got the whole story, it was hard to determine where the blame really lay. Each teen was ultimately responsible for his own actions, but if it were evident they’d had a disadvantage from birth, Max tried to address it with the parents and even the courts, if needed.
Cody had to pass. For his own sake, and for Emma’s. Max would do all he could to help him, but he wouldn’t cut corners or let the boy off without earning it. Enabling would only land Cody in jail one day. “You’ll pass if you keep doing the hard work.”
Cody plucked at the intentional hole in the knee of his jeans. “I’ve almost nailed the rope swing.” His voice lifted with a thin layer of optimism, though Max could sense the trepidation still under the surface.
“You’ll get it.” He nodded with confidence, wishing he could follow Cody around and verbally build the boy up even after he left camp. He thrived under compliments. Did Emma realize? He made a mental note to tell her. “But I don’t mean just physical hard work.”
Cody sighed hard enough to rustle the stack of papers on Max’s desk. “I know.”
“Next One4One.” His tone didn’t elicit an argument, and thankfully, Cody didn’t try. He stood, inviting Cody to do the same, and walked him to the office door. “You’re doing good, man. You know that, right?”
He stopped just outside the door, eyes focused somewhere near his boots. “I guess.”
Under-confidence was just as bad, if not worse, than overconfidence. It seemed lately it was a lot easier to knock down than build up. “Just do me a favor. Don’t stop the process.” He wanted to jump inside Cody and fill whatever void lingered. From his father. From his lack of connection with his mom. From God. The teen years were scary enough in the most ideal of conditions—and Cody’s situation was far from ideal.
As was Emma’s.