Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Four

The next day, we got our counselor.

Waken up first by the bell, we all were scampering way too early down to the main hall. People in their pajamas and others with eyes half closed.

Phil hadn't been in bed when I fell asleep last night, and wasn't there this morning, either. I suppose he was rather set on avoiding me. Or just everyone, in general, as it appeared. I also eventually forgot about those pictures, the thought lost in between bags of chips, as our snack bust had been a major success.

We were seated according to cabin, although most already planned on doing so anyway, as no group seemed especially hateful towards their members and were already becoming friends, if not already being so. Phil sat down three chairs away from us at our end of a table.

Mr. L spoke quietly. "Good morning, everyone."

A loud groan. I began to wonder if this would be our response to every time he spoke. Noises of cheer or anger. Yays or boos.

"Yes, I know. I'm very sorry for it being so early, and I promise no more long speeches. I'm assigning your counselors today, and so had to make room as to not interfere with breakfast. Afterward you may go back to sleep. Breakfast still isn't for a few hours."

There was a soft thud. I turned to see Chris with his head smack against the table, asleep.

"Your counselors will now greet you. Counselors, they are in numerical order. Cabin one is over there, and cabin twenty-six is over there. Front to back." He pointed to the left and right ends of the room.

Twenty-six people wearing the same bright red shirt then went off to find their table. Mr. L stepped down.

"Hello, there." A man approached us.

It was the man I had signed up with yesterday. I looked at his tattoo as he smiled halfheartedly. Chris made a snuffled sound, Peej nodded, and Phil was staring at the ceiling again.

"My name is James. I'm your counselor, as you can see," he said. "I'm excited to spend time with you."

He smiled crookedly, glancing at us all for a moment and making me frown. I could have just been tired, but I swore his grin faltered when our eyes met.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

Peej nudged Chris roughly, who awoke with a snort. He looked up at James, frowning, before realization settled on his face. James did not notice the exchange.

"We were told to just introduce ourselves, lay down the law and all that. You guys can go back to your cabin now, if you'd like. I know you're tired."

Phil stood and left immediately, though I doubt in the direction of the cabin. Did he ever sleep?

"Good talking with you. Sorry about him," Peej apologized, no mystery as to who he was referring to.

"That's alright," he smiled knowingly. "I'll see you all at breakfast tomorrow."

James turned and left the same as Phil. Chris nearly fell over onto the table again, so Peej helped him up. The three of us walked back to the cabin.

"How do you like him, Dan?" Peej asked me.

"I don't know yet," I shrugged. "I like his tattoo."

"I disgree," muttered Chris. "He looks like a treasure map."

We made it back to the cabin, where Chris immediately fell onto his bed. He was asleep almost instantly. Peej followed suit a couple minutes later. I, on the other hand, couldn't quite drift off. The memory I had merely forgotten last night was resurfacing, and every time I closed my eyes the image of Phil two years ago laughing happily crossed me. I didn't understand. If Phil was as unliked as it seemed, by Chris and Peej especially, then why were they talking like that? What could he have possibly done in a single year to drive everyone away, including my cabin-mates, to make them look how they did in those last photos?

I sat up, sliding out of bed anxiously. I knew I shouldn't be so interested. Whatever he did was none of my concern, and, considering the mutual hatred surrounding him, it was probably a bad idea to be involved at all.

I shook my head, wiping my forehead. I felt sweaty and gross, and probably needed a shower. Grabbing an armful of clothes, I left the sleeping cabin and made way to where I thought the bathrooms were. The camp was, once again, deserted. A glimpse of sunrise stretched along the horizon, making every building glow a ghastly pink. I found the building and entered through the door with a bit Men sign on it.

The bathrooms were rather disgusting. Mirrors and sinks smudged with mud, I got the feeling nothing here had been cleaned for a while. It smelled like dirt. The showers stood opposite the toilet stalls, and, as I stepped forward, I heard a small splish of water underneath my feet. Others must have showered last night.

There were small cubbies on the far wall for possessions. I took a nervous look around, quite self concious, before undressing and shoving the lot into the highest one, closing it shut. I hung my towel on the shower door and stepped inside. A sense of disgust nearly overwhelmed me at the idea of showering in such a public, illy kept place, but I ignored it and focused more on getting lost in the hot steam.

I didn't really take my time. Breakfast had to be nearing quickly, and with that as well as early showers. Anybody could walk in at any moment, and I was not looking forward to walking out and seeing somebody naked, or, even worse, vice versa. I cut the water off and rolled the towel around myself after about ten minutes, opening the door.

For a second I didn't notice. Just as I went towards the cubbies, though, his voice startled me into almost slipping.

"Do you think our reflections watch us?"

I spun around, stepping backwards in surprise. Phil was sitting on the counter, staring at the mirror. Or, to better word, into the mirror. It was like he was looking out a window, to some faraway place.

"W-What?" I asked, hugging the towel closer over my waist.

"Do you?" he repeated, looking at me.

"I don't- I mean-" I sputtered, completely taken aback.

Phil slid off the sink, shoes smacking loudly and sending a bit of water to wet the ankles of his jeans. He leaned forward, closer to the mirror.

"I wonder if when I close my eyes, it still stares? No real way to ever know, though, right?" he mumbled.

"What are you doing here?"

Phil looked back. Then, startling me even further, he smiled. But it wasn't the same as the one in the pictures. This one was different. It was faker. More artificial, like comparing the sun to a streetlight.

"Waiting for you."

Then he was walking, and suddenly in front of me, making me stumble backwards and hit the cubby wall. For the first time since arriving, as I looked with wide eyes up at him, I noticed that he was taller than me. His hand grazed my bare collarbone, and I immediately flinched, an uncomfortable pinch in my stomach at how close he was, one that made my face heat up. He was staring down at me with his sad eyes.

That's when it hit me. My uncomfort fizzled into understanding and I stood straighter.

"It won't work," I told him.

He hesitated, drawing his hand back a little. "What won't?"

"Intimidating me into not talking to you. It won't work."

Phil stepped back ever so slightly, hand dropping altogether. He made a funny expression, before looking me up and down. I blushed again.

"We'll see."

Then he left. I stood there, honestly shaken, then ran through my hair with four fingers and grabbed my clothes.

This was going to be a very long summer.