Dear Estella,

13. camp kikiwaka

"Was that you?"

"No, that was you."

"That wasn't me."

"Do you think it was Zoey?"

"No, I think it was Laila."

Madison and I are the only two awake in our room of the cabin. It's past midnight, and neither of us are able to sleep after the dance the counselors hosted in the mess hall.

"Oh, it smells now."

I can tell Madison's plugging her nose from the nasally sound of her voice.

"It was Laila, told you," I state proudly from my bed, the top bunk across from Madison's. The stench reaches my nose shortly after, causing me to pinch it with my thumb and index finger as well.

"I'm coming over there."

Madison grabs her blanket and pillow, climbing down the ladder of the bunk bed and tip-toeing over to mine. She goes up the ladder and settles in as quietly as she possibly can, being careful not to wake our roommates, Laila and Zoey.

"Well, that was an awful smell," Madison says once she's wrapped in her fluffy blanket, sitting across from me.

"I know," I whisper.

"Are you tired?"

"No, are you?"

"No."

"Okay, good."

I was so glad when I heard that Madison would be one of my roommates. We were planning on bunking with each other, but Laila and Zoey both wanted the bottom bunks. So Madison and I were forced on opposite beds.

"Madison."

"Yeah?"

"You never told me the rumor," I whisper.

Madison tilts her head in confusion. She thinks for a second before remembering what she said when we arrived yesterday. Or two days ago, technically.

"Oh!" She whisper-yells. "That rumor."

I wait expectantly. But Madison stays silent for about five seconds.

"Well, what's the rumor?"

"Oh, right," Madison says. "The rumor is that Aaron likes you, like likes you."

I didn't know what I was expecting her to say. But it sure wasn't that.

"Why?" I ask bluntly.

"Cause." Madison shrugs. "There are many reasons, Estella."

"What reasons?"

Madison sighs loudly. "He gave you his jacket."

"That does not mean he likes me."

"Wanna know something about Aaron?"

I immediately nod, but then quickly realize Madison couldn't see me in the pitch black room. "Yeah, I do."

"He hasn't been in a relationship in years," she tells me. "So many girls have a crush on him. I can name about five off the top of my head that admire Aaron. And he knows that, too. But he also doesn't care. He doesn't bat an eyelash when someone confesses their feelings to him. He's just not interested."

I furrow my eyebrows. I don't want to believe that Aaron is one of the stereotypical teenage boys I watch movies about with Brooke on Friday nights.

"If he's never wanted a relationship with anyone, then why do you think he likes me?" I ask curiously.

"Well, you're pretty," she replies.