Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Twenty

The party started at around an hour before dinner the next day.

Like a herd of horses, all the seniors whinnied and galloped down a path I hadn't known existed until then. Phil, Peej, Chris, and I all walked together, James being absent due to the fact he wasn't allowed to go. Only a certain number of couselors, handpicked by Mr. L, were assigned. James was not one of them.

"What all have you guys decided?" Chris asked.

We looked at him, clueless. He gave an exaggerated sigh.

"We each took a slip of paper, remember?"

Realization dawned on our faces down the row like dominos. And, with that, also came an expression that gave away the fact that none of us had thought about the bonfire ideas whatsoever.

Chris groaned, throwing his head back. "This bonfire is going to be a total flop."

"It's the last year. Who cares?" Phil pointed out.

I nodded in agreement, and even Peej glanced away. There was no argument. We were a well that was dry of any water. No use trying to make some out of thin air.

"That's the whole point! It's our last year." Chris linked arms with Peej and I, who were on either side of him. "We need to make it our best."

I yanked my arm away, stepping closer to Phil in caution.

"We're here," Phil said, standing up straighter to look over the tops of other people's heads.

I bounced up on my tiptoes, looking through the gaps, trying to get a better view.

"I can't see," I complained.

As though my words had been a command from God and not the feeble whining it actually was, I felt hands on my waist and suddenly was being lifted into the air. I jumped in fright, turning my head downward at Phil, who was holding me up with a proud grin on his face.

"Put me down," I squirmed, ticklish at where his fingers rested into the side of my tummy.

"You're so light," he teased.

"Oh my god, Phil."

Despite my complaints, I could definitely see better, and found my gaze turning instinctively up. The lake was large, but not so much so that it could teeter off camp property. Bushes and undergrowth rustled out all along the sides, clearing up just enough for sand to make a small shore. The blue-green water dazzled in the light from the sun, which was just barely above the trees on the horizon. Down the shore were various tables with an arrangement of all sorts of foods and drinks on them. Counselors guarded these, of course, looking not-so-pleased to have to stand there all night. On either sides of our narrow end, past the food, were lines of statues, each of a different person, none I recognized, of course, carved out of stone or marble. They stood at about nine feet high with their ankles under the water.

Phil swung me back down, and I, not expecting it, let out a startled squeak and nearly fell over my feet once they were on the ground.

"Get a good view?" he asked.

I felt my cheeks flush, nodding and glancing away. The crowd in front of us was beginning to disperse further, surrounding where Mr. L stood at the center of the shore.

"Good evening, everyone," he shouted, sounding weirdly different without the static of a microphone.

We muttered a response. As always, our voices fell together and made whatever it was we, as a group, decided to say into a total mess.

"I think you know the rules by now, considering you're nearly adults. No rough horseplay, don't get food in the water, wait thirty minutes after eating before swimming."