The Art of Being Alone (Together)

05 | Hope You Remembered to Pack Your Pampers

The mess hall is crowded, filled with the chatter of hungry campers and staff. Some are already sitting down, while others are standing with me and Lizzie in a line against the wall. We're all waiting for our turn to reach the long buffet at the back of the room. Behind the glass protector, identically-dressed staff members serve up portions of whatever's on the menu-- I'm not sure what it is today, but it sure smells good. Good enough to get my mouth watering and stomach growling all over again. 

"So, what kind of photography do you do?" Lizzie asks, leaning against the paneled wall, underneath a large, colorful tapestry bearing the camp's name. It's one of the many decorations on the walls, which are covered with photographs of the camp as well as various flags and shelves of trophies.

In the few minutes since we left the cabin, I've already noticed a few sideways glances in Lizzie's direction (and a few blatant stares) from other campers. Thankfully though, no one's come up to her again like those girls, or done anything mean like back at the cabin.

"Mostly landscape stuff," I answer. "I love the outdoors, so I guess nature photography always just made the most sense to me. I've never really been into taking portraits."

Lizzie nods. "I get that-- everything comes down to preference. With my fashion design, I like sewing pieces people can wear whenever-- a lot of people in the program like to make these outrageous costumes, but something like that would probably just sit in someone's closet for most of the year, so it never appeals to me."

Judging from Lizzie's bold, retro outfit, her scope of everyday wear is probably a lot larger than most peoples. I have to give her props for not dulling herself down in an attempt to draw less attention. When Rita started the rumor about me back in middle school, all I wanted to do was disappear. 

Lizzie explains how her current ensemble was a sewing project of hers from a few weeks ago. I try to listen to her talk about the intricacies of her stitching, but it's hard when I spot one of the counselors who's working the buffet.

You know that moment in a movie when the main character sees their crush and everything goes slow-mo? The music swells, the lighting gets all glowy and warm, and everything else in the shot gets reduced to a total blur?

Yeah, I think I'm having that moment right now.

He's tall with dark brown skin, short black hair, and a smile brighter than the porcelain plates he's serving up food on. The longer I stare, the faster my brain is turning to total mush, and yet I can't seem to convince myself to look away.

"Dreamy, right?" Lizzie interrupts my thoughts.

I flinch, my gaze snapping to her. I've been caught red-handed, and probably red-faced, too.

She looks at me with a knowing smile. "That's Ethan Wright, a.k.a the camp heartthrob. He went here for four years, but he's eighteen now, so instead of coming as a camper, he decided to work here. He's a seriously great guy-- he's one of the few people who still treated me like a normal person after my incident."

"You know him?"

She raises a shoulder. "Sort of. He's the type of guy that pretty much everyone knows in some way or another. You know, talkative, outgoing, really friendly. I'd say about ninety percent of the camp has a crush on him. But as far as I know, despite the constant flirting he has to deal with, he's never had a relationship with anyone here."

"Does ninety percent include you?" I question, trying to play off my genuine curiosity with a playful smirk.

"No, but I think it'd be safe to say it includes you," she says, laughing. My face is hot, and I must be blushing because she waves a hand like there's nothing to worry about. "Trust me, I get it. If I wasn't so in love with someone else, I'm sure I'd be part of the ninety percent, too."