Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 68
The Wall

Last full day at Pine Ridge.

Tomorrow morning, parents would arrive at 10 AM for pickup. But today—today was still theirs.

Brett gathered the Eagles at breakfast. "Final day schedule: morning free choice activities, lunch, then afternoon is pack-up time and final cabin awards. Tonight is the closing campfire and banquet. Make today count."

"What are the free choice options?" Oliver asked.

"Anything we've done this session. Baseball, swimming, archery, rock climbing, canoeing, basketball, whatever you want. You pick your top two activities, we'll organize groups."

Ash knew immediately what he wanted. "Rock climbing."

Lucas looked at him. "You sure? You've been struggling with that."

"That's exactly why I want to do it. One last chance to figure it out."

"Then I'm doing it too. We'll both try to get to the top."

Garrett chose baseball and basketball. Oliver picked archery and canoeing. Kevin and Max both wanted swimming and archery.

The Eagles would split up for the morning, but that was okay. They'd reconvene for the final afternoon and evening together.

Ash and Lucas walked to the climbing wall at 9 AM. About fifteen other boys had chosen climbing for their free activity. Coach Finch was already there, checking harnesses and ropes.

"Walsh, Lucas. Good to see you both. Ready to give it everything you've got on your last day?"

"I want to make it to the top," Ash said. "Haven't managed it yet."

"You've been making progress every time. You've gotten to about twenty feet, right?"

"Twenty-two feet on my best attempt. But I always get stuck at that same section—where the holds get really small and far apart."

Coach Finch nodded. "That's the crux of the green route. Most people struggle there. But here's the thing—you're stronger now than you were two weeks ago. Your forearms have built up. Your technique is better. Your problem-solving is better. You might surprise yourself."

"Or I might get stuck at twenty-two feet again."

"Maybe. But you won't know unless you try." Coach Finch gestured to the wall. "Who wants to go first?"

Lucas volunteered. He'd been steadily improving too—had made it to about twenty-five feet earlier in the week. Today he climbed methodically, thinking through each move, using the techniques they'd learned.

He made it to twenty-eight feet before getting completely stuck. Hung there for a minute, trying different approaches, but couldn't find the next sequence. Finally sat back in the harness, let Coach Finch lower him down.

"New personal best," Coach Finch said. "Twenty-eight feet. You should be proud."

"I wanted to make it to the top."

"You got close. That's something."

Then it was Ash's turn.

He got harnessed up, tied in, approached the wall. Put his hands on the familiar starting holds. Took a breath.

"Climbing," he said.

"Climb on," Coach Finch replied.

Ash started up. The first section was easy now—he'd done it dozens of times. Moved through it almost without thinking, muscle memory taking over.

Ten feet. Twelve feet. Fifteen feet.

His forearms were already burning slightly, but not like the first day. He was stronger now. Could hold on longer.

Eighteen feet. Twenty feet.

Here was the section that usually stopped him. A series of small holds, awkwardly spaced. You had to reach far to the left, use a tiny foothold, trust a grip that felt too small to support your weight.

Ash studied it. Remembered all the times he'd failed here. But also remembered what Coach Finch had said—he was stronger now. Better at problem-solving.

He spotted a hold he'd never tried before. A small outcropping about two feet to his right instead of left. It would require a completely different body position, but it might work.

He committed to it. Shifted his weight, reached for the hold, got his fingers on it. It was terrible—barely a bump—but enough. He found the foothold, pushed with his legs, moved up.

Twenty-two feet. Past his previous best.

His forearms were screaming now. The burn was intense. But he couldn't stop. Not when he was this close.

Twenty-five feet. Even with Lucas's best attempt.

The next section was the worst. Almost no holds visible. Just the wall stretching up with tiny bumps that didn't look like they could support weight.

"You're doing great!" Coach Finch called from below. "Take your time. Find your next move."

Ash scanned the wall. There—a hold so small he'd dismissed it every previous attempt. But maybe if he just used it for balance, not full weight...

He reached for it, got two fingers on it, used his legs to push up while barely touching the hand hold. Found another foothold. Another small grip.

Twenty-eight feet. Tied with Lucas.

The top was six feet away. Six feet that might as well be sixty.

His forearms were beyond burning. They were dying. Every muscle screaming at him to let go, to sit back in the harness, to accept that this was as far as he could get.

But six feet. Six feet to the top. Six feet to proving he could do this.

He looked for the next hold. Couldn't see one. The wall was nearly smooth here, just slight texture.

"Walsh!" Coach Finch called. "Look to your left. There's a hold about three feet up and two feet left. You can reach it if you push off your right foot."

Ash looked. Saw it. It was far. Required trusting a terrible foothold and making a dynamic move—basically jumping up the wall to reach it.

If he missed, he'd fall. The rope would catch him, but he'd lose all his progress. Would have to start over, and he didn't have another climb like this left in his forearms.

This was it. Make this move or accept defeat.

He thought about the last two weeks. About failing at this wall over and over. About the frustration and humiliation of being bad at something when he was used to being good.

About trying again anyway. About pushing past failure. About the leadership medal he'd earned yesterday—not for being the best, but for not giving up when things got hard.

About his graduation speech. About doing things that scared you. About growth happening outside comfort zones.

About Lucas believing in their friendship enough to say it out loud. About Brett trusting him to represent the Eagles at the opening campfire. About Ryan calling him captain material.

About being Noam Walsh—athlete, leader, friend, kid who kept trying even when things were hard.

He set his feet, calculated the move, and pushed off hard. Reached up and left, fingers stretching, aiming for that hold.

His hand connected. Grabbed it. It was solid enough.

His feet scrabbled against the wall, found purchase. He was at thirty feet.

Four feet to the top.

He could see the final holds now. They were better—actually grips instead of bumps. He'd make it.

His forearms were completely dead. He had maybe thirty seconds of grip strength left.

He moved fast. Grabbed the next hold. Found the foothold. One more move. Reached up. Got his hand over the top of the wall.

Thirty-four feet. The top.

He'd done it.

"YES!" Coach Finch shouted from below. "Walsh, you made it to the top! Touch the finish hold!"

There was a special hold at the very top—colored red, the "finish" marker. Ash reached up, slapped it with his right hand.

Made it.

He sat back in the harness, let Coach Finch lower him down. His arms were jelly. His legs were shaking. He was sweaty and exhausted and his hands hurt.

But he'd made it to the top of the wall.

Lucas was there when his feet touched the ground, grinning huge. "You did it! You actually did it!"

"I can't believe I did it."

"I can. You've been working at this for two weeks. You earned that climb." Lucas grabbed his shoulders. "That was amazing to watch. Especially that dynamic move at twenty-eight feet—that took guts."

Other kids were congratulating him too. Boys he barely knew, but who'd been watching from the ground, saw him struggle and push through and succeed.

Coach Finch unclipped him from the harness. "Walsh, that was one of the best climbs I've seen all session. Not because it was the fastest or the easiest—but because you worked for it. First day you made it eight feet. Last day you made it to the top. That's the kind of growth we want to see at camp."

"Thanks for coaching me through it."

"I just gave you advice. You did the actual climbing." Coach Finch smiled. "And that move at twenty-eight feet—I suggested a hold, but you made the decision to go for it. That took courage."

Ash looked at the wall. From the ground, thirty-four feet didn't look that high. But he'd climbed it. Had pushed through the burning forearms and the fear and the voice saying he couldn't do it.

Had started camp barely making it eight feet up that wall, and ended camp at the top.

"You want to try again?" Lucas asked. "See if you can do it twice?"

Ash looked at his hands. They were shaking. His forearms felt like they might never work properly again.

"No. Once is enough. I proved I could do it. Don't need to do it again."

"Fair enough. My turn to try to make it to the top."

Lucas tried. Made it to thirty-one feet—three feet higher than his previous best—before his arms gave out. He was pleased with that. Three other kids made it to the top that morning. The rest struggled at various heights, but everyone improved from their previous attempts.

By the time the morning session ended, Ash's arms were completely destroyed. Worth it, though. Absolutely worth it.

Lunch was subdued. The reality of leaving was setting in. Tomorrow morning, parents would arrive. Camp would end. They'd all go back to their regular lives.

"I don't want to leave," Kevin said quietly.

"Me neither," Max agreed.

"It's just camp," Garrett said, but his voice lacked conviction. "We'll come back next summer."

"It won't be the same though," Oliver said. "We'll be in different cabins, different age groups. The Eagles won't exist anymore."

Brett was quiet, letting them process. This was normal for last day. The sadness of temporary communities ending.

"We can keep in touch," Lucas said. "Like, actually keep in touch. Exchange addresses, write letters, maybe visit each other if we live close enough."

"I live three hours away," Oliver said.

"I'm like four hours away," Garrett added.

"I'm two hours," Ash said.

"Same," Lucas confirmed.

They looked at each other. Two hours wasn't that far. Maybe their parents would let them visit during the school year.

After lunch came pack-up time. Folding sleeping bags, stuffing clothes into duffel bags, making sure they had all their gear. The cabin slowly stopped looking lived-in, started looking temporary again.

Brett gathered them one more time before the closing ceremonies. "Eagles, sit down for a minute."

They sat—on bunks, on the floor, wherever they could find space in the half-packed cabin.

"I want to say something before tonight's official stuff. You guys have been an incredible cabin. The best I've had in three summers of doing this." Brett's voice was serious. "You worked together. Supported each other. Grew individually and as a team. I've watched each of you become more confident, more capable, more mature over these two weeks."

He looked at each of them in turn.

"Kevin, Max—you guys came in shy and nervous. You leave as confident swimmers and climbers who participated in everything. Oliver—you started anxious about everything and ended up crushing it at multiple activities. Garrett—your enthusiasm is infectious, and you learned to channel it into teamwork. Lucas—you're a natural athlete, but you also learned to lift others up, not just excel individually."

Then Brett looked at Ash. "And Walsh. You came to camp good at sports but unsure about leadership. You leave with a leadership medal and the respect of your entire cabin. You stepped up when your team needed you. You kept trying at climbing even when it was hard. You made everyone around you better."

"We're all leaving better than we arrived," Brett continued. "That's what camp is for. And I'm proud to have been your counselor."

There was a long silence.

Then Garrett said, "Group hug?"

"Absolutely not," Brett said, but he was smiling.

They group-hugged anyway. All seven of them—six boys and their counselor—in the middle of Cabin 7, holding onto each other for a moment before the camp officially ended.

The closing campfire was different from the opening one. More emotional. Songs were slower, more meaningful. Coach Peterson's speech focused on taking camp lessons home with them.

"You came here as individuals from different places. You leave as brothers. The friendships you've made, the skills you've learned, the person you've become—take that home with you. Be the person at school that you were at camp. Lead like you led here. Try new things like you tried them here. Support your friends like you supported your cabin mates."

Then came cabin awards. Each counselor presented awards to their campers—some serious, some silly.

Brett stood up with the Eagles. "Cabin 7 awards. Most Improved Climber goes to Kevin, who went from terrified of heights to making it fifteen feet up the wall. Most Valuable Teammate goes to Lucas, who made everyone around him better in every activity. Best Attitude goes to Garrett, because his enthusiasm never quit. Bravest goes to Max, who tried everything even when it scared him. Most Surprising Talent goes to Oliver, who turned out to be amazing at archery and climbing despite being nervous. And Most Growth goes to Walsh, who arrived as a good athlete and left as a leader."

Ash accepted his certificate. Most Growth. It felt accurate. He had grown—not just in skill, but in confidence, in leadership, in friendship.

The campfire wound down. Final songs, final cheers, final moments together as a complete camp.

Then they returned to their cabins for the last night.

In Cabin 7, nobody wanted to sleep. They stayed up past lights out, talking quietly, trying to hold onto these final hours.

"I'm going to miss this," Lucas said from his bunk.

"Me too," Ash replied.

"We're definitely staying in touch, right? Like, for real?"

"For real. I'll write you. You write me back."

"Deal."

Around them, other conversations. Garrett and Oliver making plans to try to come back next summer. Kevin and Max talking about what they'd tell their parents. Brett sitting on his counselor bunk, letting them have this time.

Eventually, exhaustion won. One by one, the Eagles fell asleep.

Ash lay awake a bit longer, looking at the dark ceiling of Cabin 7 one last time.

Two weeks ago, he'd been terrified in this bunk. Homesick and anxious and unsure if he could handle being away from his family.

Now he was leaving with medals, certificates, friendships that felt real and lasting, and proof that he was more capable than he'd known.

He'd conquered the climbing wall. Led his baseball team to victory. Won swim races. Made a best friend in Lucas. Earned the respect of his cabin mates and counselors.

Had become someone he hadn't known he could be.

"My name is Ash," he whispered one final time to the cabin. "I'm thirty-three years old. I'm eleven years old. Today I made it to the top of the climbing wall after two weeks of trying. Today I packed up my stuff because tomorrow I go home. Today I said goodbye to a version of myself that only existed at camp—confident, capable, a leader. Tomorrow I go back to regular life. But I'm taking this with me. All of it."

He paused, thinking about what waited at home. His family. His room. His regular school friends. His normal life as the youngest Walsh child.

But also: the kid who'd conquered the climbing wall. Who'd led his baseball team. Who'd earned a leadership medal. Who'd made friends fast and deep.

That kid was coming home too.

"Four thousand, seven hundred days to go," he whispered. "But tomorrow: going home different than I left. Stronger. More confident. Proven."

He fell asleep surrounded by the Eagles one last time, the gentle sounds of his cabin mates breathing, the peaceful dark of the last night at Pine Ridge.

Growing up, one conquered wall at a time.

Morning came too early. Parents started arriving at 9:30. The camp was chaos—boys hugging each other goodbye, parents taking photos, counselors shaking hands and exchanging information.

Dad arrived at 9:45. Pulled up to Cabin 7, got out of the car, smiled when he saw Ash.

"There's my camper. How was it?"

"Really good. Better than I expected."

Dad pulled him into a hug. "You look good. Tan. Maybe taller?"

"Maybe. I grew out of my comfort zone, at least."

"That's what I like to hear."

Brett came over, shook Dad's hand. "Mr. Walsh. Your son was an excellent camper. Real leadership qualities. He did you proud."

"I never doubted it." Dad looked at Ash. "Ready to go home?"

"Almost. I need to say goodbye first."

Lucas was saying goodbye to his own parents nearby. When Ash approached, Lucas's mom smiled. "You must be Noam. Lucas has talked about you constantly."

"All good things, I hope."

"Very good things." She handed Ash a piece of paper. "Our address and phone number. Please stay in touch. Lucas would love to have you visit sometime if your parents are willing to drive."

"I'd like that."

The boys stood facing each other, suddenly awkward.

"So," Lucas said.

"So."

"This was good. These two weeks."

"Really good."

"I'm going to miss having you as my competition."

"Same."

They hugged—brief and backslapping, the way eleven-year-old boys do. But genuine.

"Write me," Lucas said.

"I will. You write back."

"Obviously."

Garrett appeared, wanting to say goodbye. Then Oliver. Then Kevin and Max together. They all hugged, exchanged addresses, made promises to stay in touch that might or might not happen.

Brett was last. "Walsh. It's been an honor. Keep being the person you became here."

"I'll try."

"Don't try. Do it. You've got what it takes."

Dad loaded Ash's bags into the car. Ash took one last look at Cabin 7. The porch where they'd hung out. The door with the Eagles sign. The windows of the cabin that had been home for two weeks.

"Ready?" Dad asked.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

The drive back was quiet for the first twenty minutes. Ash watched Pine Ridge disappear in the side mirror, watched the mountains fade as they drove back toward regular life.

"Want to tell me about it?" Dad asked eventually.

"We won the inter-camp competition. I got medals for baseball and swimming. And a leadership award."

"Leadership award?"

"For making my team better, not just being good individually."

Dad's hand found Ash's shoulder briefly. "That's what I wanted for you. Learning to lead. Discovering what you're capable of."

"I also made it to the top of the climbing wall."

"The one you were dreading?"

"Yeah. Took me two weeks, but I did it. On the last day."

"That's my boy. Keep trying even when it's hard."

Ash looked out the window. "I made a good friend. Lucas. He lives two hours away. Can I visit him sometime?"

"We'll see. Let's get his information from his parents and work something out."

They drove in comfortable silence for a while. Then Dad said, "You know, when I dropped you off two weeks ago, you looked scared."

"I was scared."

"But you went anyway. And now you're coming home with medals and new friends and stories about conquering climbing walls." Dad glanced at him. "I'm proud of you. For being brave enough to try camp. For sticking with it when it was hard. For becoming a leader."

"Thanks, Dad."

"And I hate to say I told you so, but..."

"You told me so. I know. Camp was good. You were right."

Dad grinned. "Music to my ears."

As they got closer to home, Ash felt the pull of regular life. His family. His room. His normal routine. Marcus and his school friends. Sophie with her questions and her art supplies. Mom with her carefully constructed schedules.

But he was bringing camp with him. The confidence. The leadership. The proof that he could handle independence. The friendship with Lucas. The memory of standing at the top of the climbing wall, arms shaking but victorious.

Two weeks that had changed something fundamental. That had shown him he could be more than he'd thought. Could lead. Could push through failure. Could make deep friendships fast. Could survive and thrive away from his family.

The youngest Walsh child was coming home.

But also: the kid who'd conquered Pine Ridge. Who'd led his baseball team. Who'd made it to the top of the wall.

Both versions. Both real. Both him.

The car pulled into the driveway. Mom rushed out of the house, Sophie right behind her.

"You're home!" Mom grabbed him before he was fully out of the car. "I missed you so much! Tell me everything!"

Sophie was jumping up and down. "Did you have fun? Did you make friends? Did you win anything? Can I see?"

Ash laughed, overwhelmed by their enthusiasm, by the sudden return to family chaos.

"One question at a time. Yes, I had fun. Yes, I made friends. And yes—" he reached into the car, pulled out his medal collection, "—I won some things."

Sophie's eyes went wide. "So many medals! You're basically an Olympian!"

"Not quite. But I did okay."

Mom was examining the leadership medal. "What's this one for?"

"Making my team better. Being a leader."

She looked at him with shining eyes. "My baby came home a leader."

"Mom, I'm not a baby."

"You'll always be my baby. But also—" she touched his face, "—you're growing up. I can see it."

They went inside. Ash told stories over lunch—edited versions appropriate for family, leaving out the harder moments, highlighting the victories. Baseball championship. Swimming relay. Making it to the top of the climbing wall. Lucas and the Eagles and Brett and all of it.

That night, in his own bed in his own room, Ash looked at the medals lined up on his desk. Evidence of two weeks that had changed everything.

Tomorrow he'd be back to normal life. But normal life with proof that he could do hard things. Lead. Succeed. Make friends. Be independent.

Camp was over.

But everything he'd learned there was just beginning.

Growing up, one summer at a time.