Chapter V: Popsicle

The campfire crackled and flickered, casting dancing shadows on the faces of the campers. Everyone sat on their log each with their own unique presence.

In the center, the boy from the bus I'd seen earlier strummed his guitar, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the strings. His charm drew the attention of a few girls who gathered around him, their eyes sparkling with admiration. His music filled the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

...It was pathetic. He caught me staring and shot me a wink but I wasn't moved. I could see his smile falter but he turned his attention back to the girls, swaying them with his song.

I'd never been a fan of music when I was younger. Until I got to listen to P!nk. And a few others but I was more Punk Pop and Soft Rock. Boybands and Heartthrobs weren't really my thing.

I observed the camp counsellor as she went round passing the marshmallows. Her disapproving glances at me didn't go unnoticed, and it left me slightly unnerved.

On one side of the fire sat Candy, the girl with an unhealthy love for sweet treats. She eagerly helped the camp counselor distribute marshmallows for s'mores, her eyes lighting up with joy as she saw others indulge in the delicious treats.

"Oh, you dropped yours." she fished another from the pack. "I'm sorry here you go."

Something about her wasn't right. No one could be that sweet and be human.

"You're awfully quiet." Ginger spoke up next to me.

I turned to him. With his goofy smile and cheeky nature, he could make just about anyone here laugh. And it wasn't far from the truth to say that he was to thank for how lively they were. His quick wit and infectious sense of humor brought smiles to everyone's faces, creating an atmosphere of lightheartedness and camaraderie.

"Is that a problem?" I shot back picking at my nails.

"It will be if you want to make friends." he pointed out.

"Well lucky for you, I don't want to make friends."

"...Not even with that guy?" he jerked his thumb at guitar boy.

He jumped into a chorus and the other girls swooned, and giggled and...you get the gist. They looked like a bunch of lovesick puppies and I didn't even have the heart to feel sorry for them. The thing with girls is, they know they're going to get their hearts broken but they still choose to cling to a sliver of hope that he might like them back anyway.

I knew a few guys like him. Some were my friends, others...complicated.

"What makes you think that I want to be friends with Harry Styles over there?" I scoffed. "I'm not like other girls."

"Kinda figured that out from the hair." he chuckled, deftly turning something in his hand. Like a totem or something. "Bold color by the way."

"It's a life choice." was all I said.

"And like I said, it's bold."

With steady precision, he carved intricate patterns into the smooth surface of the wooden totem. His fingers moved effortlessly, guided by a deep connection to the material. As each stroke of the knife revealed the hidden beauty within, I could see a sense of accomplishment washed over him. He smiled pleased at his work. The totem began to take shape, its features emerging with every delicate cut.

"I mean, you're hair's ginger but I can tell by your roots that you're a blonde." I said after a while.

He topped looking amused at first, but he smirked shaking his head.

"Meaning?"

"Ginger's a bold color too."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment." I turned away.

"I still choose to take it as one." he said. "Not a fan of sweets?"

He pointed to the stick in my hands and the lack of marshmallows thereof.

"I got enough of a cavity just staring at Princess bubblegum over there." I pointed to Candy, who now was seated next to a guitar boy, clapping excitedly like a fan girl running on pure caffeine and sugar. Between his groupies and his fan girl, honestly, I had half a mind to get back to my cabin and just sleep the night away. If it was even nighttime. I couldn't even tell anymore. The trees here were so thick it was hard to tell what time it was.

"She's just nice." he defended but even I caught the uncertainty in his voice.

"Extremely so." I breathed out. "...That and glasses passed me over, I don't think she likes me."

The fire cracked, embers glowing almost unnaturally, but perhaps that was just my imagination. I inched a little bit closer and my eyes went to the counsellor. How her smile could morph into the nastiest frown when she saw me I didn't know. I'd just steer clear of her completely all summer.

Meet our camp counsellor, a woman who stood out from the rest with her murky green eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. She reminded me of our school librarian. Miss Truman. Miss Truman was always nice to me though. Her eyes had an uncanny gleam to them that I found unsettling to say the least. Or maybe that was my bias because of the tension I could feel between us.

Yet, despite her somewhat eerie appearance, she managed to keep everyone smiling. Everyone else that is . She had this unique way of making everyone around her feel like they were at home, like it really was camp for them. Like they were at their home away from home. You know...except me.

"Here," he handed me one. "I snagged two before she 'passed you over'," he said with a chuckle.

"...Thanks." I offered a grateful smile in return. "I'm legit serious though, she keeps looking at me like I spat on her marshmallow or something."

"Counsellors got favorites and the also pick on one camper they just don't like." he explained, shifting the knife in his hands.

"How comforting." I rolled my eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that, I mean, maybe she just thinks you're a renegade or you know, one of those over glorified high school rebels or something."

"Over glorified?" my brow involuntarily shot up.

"You know what I mean." he gave a half-shrug. "Maybe she sees you and she sees trouble."

"I'm not in the mood to cause any trouble this summer." I countered.

"Then you don't have anything to worry about then, she'll warm up to you in no time." he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I told you I wasn't here to make friends." I told him turning my attention back at my fingernails.

"Maybe not," he put his knife aside and tucked his carving away in his pocket. "But I got you to talk to me for at least five minutes."

"Wasn't so bad now was it?" he winked.

I had always been the shy girl in school. Never had friends. Never participated in after school activities. I was the girl who was picked last in gym. The girl who sat alone at lunch. The girl who walked home in the rain because she didn't have mom to come get her from school and dad was always to busy to come get me. The one who's dad never showed up for parents' day.

Over time, I developed a cold demeanor, rarely showing any signs of warmth. It was a coping mechanism, I suppose. If you can't beat em', join em. But I couldn't do either, so I shut everyone out completely.

But here I was with some random guy from the bus, talking like we were already friends. I couldn't help but smile. And I admit, it hadn't been so bad talking to him after all. But he didn't need to know that.

In that moment, I only wanted to sit there by the fire, keep talking to him. Maybe I just wanted to feel understood and less alone in the world. But as quickly as my smile appeared, it faded away. Deep down, I realized that forming friendships would only expose my vulnerability. And so, with a heavy heart, I retreated back into my shell, leaving behind only memories of that fleeting smile.

He had made my day a bit less suckish, so I owed him for that. And sitting here became a little less uncomfortable.

Amidst it all, a little kid sat quietly by the fire, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly against her chest. Her innocent gaze fixed on the mesmerizing flames as she listened intently to the stories unfolding around her.