“I said thank you, I said thank you!” the boy screeched as he thrashed in his bunk. Harlow pulled the covers over his head, trying to drown out the sound, but Charlie’s night terrors made it impossible. Harlow didn’t ask about them, and Charlie didn’t tell.

Nobody talked about the marks on Charlie’s arms the next day. Some hardships are meant to be carried in a mutually agreed-upon silence, even if that secret is bought with screams. Some things weren’t meant to be shared at camp- or at all. That summer, Harlow learned more lessons than flint-tipped archery and open-water kayaking.

Secrets have a funny way of binding opposites. Outside of that mired summer camp environment, you wouldn’t have caught Charlie and Harlow together. The music prodigy and a lacrosse captain. Not exactly the expected pair for a rough and tumble friendship, but when the days started by trumpet and ended with campfire, anything is possible.