Hopeful Undertone

Chapter 10: Mischief

There was a bustle of activity as we unzipped bags and rummaged through our stuff in search of the girliest tank tops we could find. The best contribution so far was Faye's: a bright teal racerback with an iridescent sequined unicorn sewn on the front.

"How's this?" I asked, holding up a camo-patterned crop top. 

"No, it's too cute!" Faye protested. "The boys will ruin it."

"It's worth the sacrifice," I said. "I'll put it on Tyler's bed. Pretty sure he's the skinniest."

Giddy with mischief, we split for the afternoon. 

Jess and I were on volunteer duty. Our job for the afternoon consisted of leading a group of rowdy eight-through-ten-year-olds in a dramatic production that was to include The Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood. 

The younger campers, ages five through seven, were inside the main building rehearsing for a musical performance with Mr. Tyler and Mr. Josh. On Friday, both groups of kids would come together to perform for their parents, the camp leaders, and the volunteers. 

After holding "auditions"—in which several boys competed for the role of the big, bad wolf—we tried on costumes, did a quick read-through of everyone's parts, then walked the kids back to the main building for popsicles.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I sat with my bunkmates at dinner, and a few of the kids from our play approached the table with their parents to say hi. We spent the hour before the bonfire freshening up, tidying up the cabin, and creating a staggered showering schedule (my idea) so that no one would be stuck with cold water. 

Jess plugged in her speaker, and Lyla picked the music. A few bars into the song, I looked up. 

"Twenty One Pilots?" I guessed. 

"Yup," she said, miming the drum part. "The beat is so good in this one." 

"You've memorized their back catalog impressively fast," I said. 

"Getting there." She dug around in her makeup bag for some lip balm. "Ready to prank those boys?"

"Born ready," I answered confidently. 

I had never pranked anyone before, but it turned out that a lifetime of inexperience had done nothing to lessen my boldness. In fact, I was finding more and more that the worry that had always haunted me—that all my nights spent studying while my friends hung out were putting me behind socially—had been entirely unwarranted. Here I was, far from home and completely unsupervised, volunteering to direct plays, coach volleyball, and execute pranks. Maybe I was a natural leader; I'd just never been given the chance to show it.

At six o'clock, we headed to the fire pit. Benches carved skillfully out of logs lined the perimeter of the clearing, where students, parents, and volunteers were already making themselves comfortable. 

Becka and Jess passed out metal skewers for s'mores and resolved the several fencing matches that inevitably broke out among the more rambunctious of the kids. 

"Long time no see," said Abram, making his way over to Lyla and me. He refrained from physical contact this time, and I wondered if our last rejection had finally chastened him. 

As more people arrived, I kept an eye on the crowd forming around the bonfire, counting to make sure all six guys were present before I tried to slip away. For a while Zack was the only one missing, but then I spotted him kneeling to help a kid who had dropped his marshmallow. 

It was go time. 

I patted my pocketless shorts as if searching for something.

"Guys, I think I left my phone in the cabin," I said, looking around. "I'll be right back."