Delinquent Camp

Chapter Five

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Five

The first thing I think of when I hear a knock in the middle of the night, is that there’s some crazed kid outside, ready to slit my throat. However when I’m stirred from my sleep and sit up, squinting in the dark, I’m only half right.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, climbing out of my bunk. I tip toe towards the cabin door, staring through the screen at Rhyson. Stepping out into the night, I smell the sweet scent of nicotine and instantly remember how much I’ve missed it.

“Thought you could use a break,” he smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He returns with two cigs and a lighter, handing one to me.

“Thanks,” I murmur, leaning against the railing on the porch. I put one of the cancer sticks in my mouth and lean forward as Rhyson flicks the lighter. It takes a few tries before it finally gets a spark, but it’s enough to light my end.

“Found the lite on the ground. Danny must have dropped it,” he shrugs, raising his own cigarette to his lips. He flicks it a few times, but there’s not even the smallest of flames. He shakes it, trying to get it to work but to no prevail. “You mind?” He leans forward with the cigarette between his lips. I follow in suit, not wanting to even think about separating the nicotine from my mouth.

We touch the tips together until his lights, and then we both pull back. Rhyson takes a long drag, staring out into the darkness. I watch him, hoping it’s not obvious in the night. There’s something about him hiding just under the surface, something that I almost find frightening. However, instead I’m more fascinated.

“So what did you do?” I ask, flicking ashes over the railing.

“Huh?”

“To get sent here. You have to have a reason, don’t you?”

“I guess so,” he shrugs, his voice cold. For a few minutes he stays silent, his eyes not even wavering close to me as he stays preoccupied at the scenery. Finally when he does speak, he runs his free hand through his dark hair. “I think it’s something you’re better off not knowing.”

“Oh,” I mumble, looking up. Trying to look busy, I stare at the few stars in the sky. Most of the others must be covered by clouds.

“What about you?” He asks, catching my gaze. “What did badass Gemma do to get here?”

I shake my head, breaking eye contact. A week has gone by since the incident at the campfire, and ever since, I haven’t exactly been the most pleasant person to be around. It never was as much before, but now my past seems to be a touchy subject.

“Do you really want to know my story?” Rhyson asks, throwing his burned out cigarette onto the trail. I shrug, meeting his eyes and he smirks. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Mine isn’t all that interesting,” I mumble, leaning my head against the porch post. “I’m sure it’s not a fair trade.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to think of another form of payment,” he grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. He heads quietly down the porch steps, turning at the bottom to face me. His smile is still plastered to his lips, and I can’t help but smirk back.

“If it’s anything like what I think it is, I’m going to break your kneecaps.”

“You’re different, Gemma,” he says, walking backwards so we can talk. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”

Even though I know it’s a friendly gesture, I still feel like there are butterflies in my stomach. Long after he’s gone and I’m lying awake in bed, they’re still there, fluttering around inside me as I try to force sleep. Instead, whenever I close my eyes, I see the grin he had as he walked away.