Hopeful Undertone

Chapter 9: Salty, Earthy, Deep

"So, how do we want to break up the leadership duties tomorrow?" Josh asked once we had all settled back at the table with lunch. Voices chimed in as everyone reviewed the next day's events and discussed who would lead each one.

I was about to give my thoughts when I became distracted. Both times that I'd hung out with Tyler so far—in the restaurant on Friday night and this morning in the van—there had been a pleasant scent in the air that I'd barely registered. Now that we were sitting close enough to accidentally bump elbows as we ate, I realized it was his natural smell. It was salty and earthy and deep, but every time I tried to pin it down, it became that much more elusive. 

I inhaled deeply, fully aware of how weird I was being but hopeful that no one would notice. Tyler tilted his head at me, amused. 

The smell of him made me think of minerals and underground caverns and dirt and rain, tinged with the slightest, most irresistible, undefinable sweetness...

"Tessa?" Lyla said. Everyone was looking at me. 

"Sorry, I zoned out," I said.

"Four of us are leading beach volleyball tomorrow morning," she said. "Me and you should be on the same team, since I suck at sports and you're captain of an actual volleyball team." 

"Oh! Yeah, sure," I said. 

At the end of lunch, the all the kids were invited into a big room for arts and crafts while the parents broke into small groups for their own activities.

The rest of us were free to roam the grounds as we liked.

"So..." Abram said, catching up with me and Lyla after lunch had been cleared away. "Where are you guys heading?" 

"To change out of these clothes," I said. "I'm freezing."

"Here. Take my shirt," Abram said, already unbuttoning his top layer to reveal a white undershirt clinging to his well defined torso. Tyler, standing several yards away, looked over sharply. 

"Don't be ridiculous," I said as casually as I could manage, flustered by the offer. "My cabin's five minutes from here." 

"Walk you there, at least?" he said. 

"Sorry," Lyla butt in hastily, "I need to talk to her. Top secret." 

"Whatever," Abram said, shrugging as he strolled off in the opposite direction, his unbuttoned outer shirt now rippling in the breeze like his perfect hair.

"Thanks for putting an end to that," I said to Lyla as we set out across the soggy grass in the rain, which had lessened to a drizzle.

"My pleasure," Lyla said.

"So did you really need to talk, or..."

"Oh! No, not really," she said, waving my question away. "That was just to get him off your back. He's embarrassing himself at this point."

I agreed. 

The cabin was bustling when we got back. Upbeat soul music filtered into the room through a small Bluetooth speaker that a girl named Jess had brought. Everyone was changing clothes, waiting for a turn in the bathroom, or talking animatedly. 

I waited for a turn in the bathroom, then changed into a pair of cotton running shorts and a soft t-shirt. Much more comfortable. I climbed onto my bunk and rested with my hands underneath my head, staring at the ceiling and marinating in the events of the day so far. 

Suddenly, Lyla's head appeared over the side of my third-level bunk. 

"Oh, this is nice," she said, looking around. 

"How's the middle bunk?" I asked. 

"I like it," she said. "Feels like I'm sleeping in a tree." 

"Cool," I said. Just then, there happened to be a lull in every conversation in the room but one. 

"—and when they go to put on their clothes, it'll just be, like, girl clothes." 

The six of us laughed at the out-of-context snippet of conversation emphasized by the sudden silence.

"Are you talking about pranking the boys?" asked Jess, whose bed was the one under Lyla's. 

"Yeah!" said a fellow curly-haired girl named Becka with a huge, dimpled smile.

"I want in!" said a petite, dark-haired girl named Faye. 

"Me too," said Jess. 

"We were thinking of swapping out their clothes with ours, like when they're in the shower or something," said a girl with a high-pitched voice named Carrie, who was sitting on Becka's bed.

"Not bad," said Jess, "only I don't think we want them strutting around in booty shorts with all these little ones running around."

"True," said Becka. "It needs to be family-friendly." We all agreed. 

"What if we put shaving cream on their mirror or something?" suggested Faye. "A little light vandalism?"

"And we could write 'Girls Rule' in the shaving cream!" said Lyla.

We cackled at the juvenile nature of our plan, and someone pointed out that we were all just trying to live out the movie Parent Trap.

"So, 'Girls Rule' in shaving cream on the mirror..." wrote Becka on a notepad. She was clearly the overly organized, motherly girl of the group. Being a notorious list-maker myself, I liked her style. 

"What else?" she asked. "What about switching out just their tops—that way they don't have to wear short-shorts, but they still get to look ridiculous?" 

After a minute of discussion, it was agreed that making the boys wear our shirts was an acceptably family-friendly punishment.

"So... who wants to break into their cabin?" Lyla asked. We all looked around, waiting for someone to volunteer. 

"I can't," said Becka. "I'm on duty during bonfire, which is our best chance at getting in while all the boys are out."

"Oh, me too," said Carrie. 

"That leaves Jess, Lyla, Faye, and Tessa," said Becka.

"And we can't all go, or it'll be obvious," said Faye, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. 

"Yeah," I agreed. "Any more than one person missing would be super suspicious."

"One of us needs to execute the prank while the other three distract them," said Lyla. "I volunteer as a distractor." 

She smiled at me, and I knew she was hoping for a chance to hang out with Tyler. 

"Alright," I said. "I'll do it. I'll prank the boys. Everyone give me your least-favorite tank top. I can't promise it'll fit you when you get it back."

* * *

Author's Note: 

This is what ChatGPT says when you ask it what Tyler Joseph smells like: "As an AI language model, I do not have the ability to smell or interact with individuals in real life. It is also not appropriate to speculate or comment on an individual's personal scent or hygiene. It is important to respect people's privacy and focus on their talents, accomplishments, and character. Tyler Joseph is a talented musician and songwriter known for his work with the band Twenty One Pilots, and it is best to appreciate his music and artistry." 

...

In my personal opinion, Tyler smells like sweat and Josh smells like Skittles. 

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