#eccentricute

It was the last night of the summer camp after a seemingly never-ending day. We had to get up early tomorrow to tidy up the cabins and help our campers pack up, and this hooligan wanted me to lose even more sleep after such an exhausting week. I didn’t think so.

To: Harolddd: Nah thanks. Goodnight, Harold. Go to sleep.

I sighed, snuggling back into my warm sheets. The cabins were good protection from the wind chill outside, but I knew from experience that it would only get colder as the night went on. I didn’t realize how cold this secluded forest camp-ground would get at night even though it was the middle of summer.

As I finally settled in and got comfortably still again, my phone buzzed once more next to me. I groaned. It had become a habit for Harry to text me late at night with either a fun fact or a weird story. Often, he recounted something funny that happened earlier that day, as if we hadn’t been together the whole time because we were paired as co-counselors. Many of my replies were just, “I know, Harold. I was there too.”

For example, on the third night our messages went something like: “remember when u tried to kill me in archery today hahah” “Yeah I remember. And I’m sorry that I missed my target. It wouldn’t stop moving.”

I sat up and checked his text, only slightly annoyed because over the week I had become used to his weird texts at strange hours of the night. Usually, I was still awake when they arrived, but my muscles were sore, aching, and in desperate need of rest from rock-climbing today.

From: Harold: :( pls? I stole a bag of chips for us to share ;)

To: Harold: ….You didn’t.

The first day we met at orientation, we got into an argument over what we should do if we ever caught a camper stealing anything. He chastised me for being too harsh on the kids, as he had continued doing halfway through the week until I let him try to reprimand them himself.

He was unable to control them, to say the least.

He finally realized how hard I was actually working to keep the peace. From then on, he repeatedly praised me whenever I had to discipline our campers, going as far as to say that I would make a great mother one day. He was the fun parent, but I was the one that they really respected.

Harry still acted like kid, so it was really no wonder that they all gravitated towards him. He let them braid his hair, and draw even more tattoos on him with markers. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually stole chips from the gift shop’s convenience store despite the fact that even the campers knew better than that. No wonder he thought I was being too harsh.

From: Harold: Ok, i didnt actually steal it, i confiscated it from one of our kids that did

Freaking Billy. The kid was loads of fun, but he was a trouble-maker. Well, I guess as long as it wasn’t the adult toddler that was Harry Styles.

I glanced over at the five little girls sleeping in bunks beside me. None of my half of the campers were fidgeting, and a couple of them were even snoring. I wondered if our boys were just as deep in sleep in Harry’s cabin. I, however, found myself much more alert than I was a few minutes ago, excited at the prospect of a late night adventure.

Well.. it was our last night. My co-counselor and I hadn’t really been able to talk alone since orientation, and my heart had softened for him considerably since then in more ways than one. He was one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met, even if we didn’t get off on the right foot at first. He always served the kids and me our food first even though he was obviously starving. He always made sure that all the kids were included and having fun.

I guess if any of my campers woke up, I could just tell them that I was at the communal bathroom…

To: Harold: At least it wasn’t a Klondike bar…what kind of chips?

Day 0:Orientation

“I don’t think you did that right,” a slow drawl accused.  

I looked up, face incredulous, as my eyes met the lips of a concerned frown.

“I wasn’t even done yet!” I defended, blushing as the circle of eight counselors watched closely for my response to the blunt critique.

We were all currently at the summer camp orientation, a meeting to discuss the schedule and ground rules of the week-long camp, a couple of days before the kids would actually arrive.  

Carol, the camp director, was making us practice how we should react in different worst-case scenarios with the kids.  She would give us an example of something un-ideal happening, like bed-wetting, and ask us to improvise how we would go about managing the problem.  It was a little bit pessimistic, but I guess you could never be too careful at a kid’s camp.  Kids are unpredictable; Crazy things happen.

It was also a good icebreaker to let all the counselors act-out, albeit terribly, funny situations.  In one scene, the “kid” brought drugs, and the counselor asked them to share instead of reprimanding them.  Carol shoved her face in her hands helplessly as everyone laughed around her.

I tried to take this exercise more seriously than the rest of my co-workers, but obviously someone didn’t agree with that.

This was not the first time that this particular long curly-haired punk had disagreed with my tactics of handling the awkward situations given.  We were eventually supposed to be partners, leading the same group of kids, yet it felt like he was the only one working against me, even before the kids arrived.

“You were stealing, not just from other campers, but from the convenience store.  I’m not gonna just let that slide with a slap on the wrist,” I asserted, looking straight into my opposer’s eyes to assure him that I was serious and would fight him on this.

Harry stared back at me, just as seriously, before he broke out in a chuckle a second later, shaking his head.  His floppy curls bounced around his face.  When his hair was finally still, his green eyes met mine yet again.

“Oh please!  It was an ice cream bar!  Maybe I just didn’t eat enough at lunch.  I just think that you’re being a bit harsh.  I probably already feel guilty enough getting caught.”

“Yeah, but if you got caught without any repercussion, it would only encourage you to keep going. First it’s an ice cream bar, but if we let it go this time then the next victim could be a wallet.”

“I’m just saying.  I don’t think boring me with a lecture is gonna stop them from doing anything for a Klondike Bar.”   

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms in aggravation.

“I didn’t even punish you! I’m just talking to you!”

“More like yelling..” he sing-songed.

“Alright!” Carol clapped, sensing the tension in the room.  “Let’s move on to the next scene.”

I narrowed my eyes at Harry.  He only smirked back at me.  I could already tell we would make a terrible team.

~*~

As we were surrounded on all sides by eight other camp counselors and one camp director, Harry suddenly grabbed one of my hands from out of my lap and looked into my eyes.

What stunt was this annoying punk trying to pull now?

Very solemnly, he stated, “Vic… I have to tell you something.”

I cleared my throat, uncomfortable and caught off guard at the sudden seriousness in Harry’s demeanor.  I scooted my chair a little bit away from his.

I tried to ignore how intensely his green eyes were searching mine, as if the two of us were alone and weren’t being closely watched by our co-workers.  It made me want to roll my eyes, that he was now taking this so seriously.

“What is it, Harold?  I’m here for you- you can talk to me.” I replied, acting concerned for the sake of the activity.

He gestured for me to come closer, so I inched forward the tiniest bit.  Rolling his eyes at my reluctance to share personal space with him, he leaned in closer to my face, then tilted his mouth towards my ear.

“I think you’re really pretty, and I have a crush on you,” he whispered, trying to make me flustered.

I barked out a laugh, falling out of my “concerned counselor” character.

I hoped that my laughing undermined the fact that I was blushing.  The kid had charm, even I had to admit.  He had that hipster-next-door vibe going for him.

“Well, Harold, that’s rather inappropriate because I’m your counselor and you’re just a kid. Wait a few years, then maybe,” I shook my head fondly.

Harry pouted, like he actually was a child.   

“I’ll wait a few days.”

*~*

Day 4: Feel Your Pulse

Every day, for an hour, we had free time where we were able to pick which activity we wanted to partake in instead of one being scheduled for us.

Harry and I, getting along much better now for the sake of the kids, had fallen into a habit of playing cards with some campers. We had been playing Mafia for the past couple days, but the campers were tired of it and itching for something new.

Honestly the only other card game I knew was poker, and I didn’t find it appropriate to teach that to a bunch of kids, so that was out of the question.

“Wait, I know the cool cousin of Mafia. It’s called Pulse,” Harry snapped his fingers excitedly sitting next to me, remembering with a grin.

He suddenly turned towards me, dimples still showing, viridescent eyes bright with youth and shiny of mischief.

“First you hold hands like this,” he declared, abruptly grabbing one of my hands from off the table and interlocking my fingers tightly with his before I had a chance to react. My brows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. I blushed at the sudden contact, along with how close his face was to mine. His strong gaze reminded me of orientation, when he pretended he had an important secret to tell me.

What was it with this kid and grabbing my hand without my consent.

He kept his eyes on mine, biting his lip, trying not to laugh at my fluster as the kids hooted and went “ewwww” around us. Wow. I hate this kid.

“If you’re the killer, you squeeze the hand next to you the number away your chosen victim is from you. For example, if I wanted to get Jimmy (No! Jimmy protested), I would squeeze Vic’s hand four times because Jimmy’s four spots away from me in the circle.” He squeezed my hand four times, slowly and deliberately, and watching for my reaction each time with a smirk .

I, on the other hand, refused to look up at his face, instead keeping my eyes on our intertwined hands. I could feel my cheeks heating up and didn’t want to risk looking at his smug face right now in case I accidentally wanted to punch it. Or hold it.

Whoever let him know that he was attractive was my new worst enemy.

“They get the point,” I muttered, shaking my hands out of his and still avoiding his eyes.

I could sense Harry’s face fall from the corner of my eye. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, anyway. You send down one less pulse than you received on the other side. So, Vic would send down three pulses, and next down the chain sends two and so on. If someone gives you only one pulse, that means that you were killed, and you have to turn over your card. If you’re accused as killer, then you flip over your card, and if you do have the Killer King card, then the game is over and the villagers win. If not you keep going until you find the killer,” Harry explained the rules.

We passed out the cards and checked our own. We all hid our connected hands underneath the table so that we wouldn’t be able to see where the pulse originated. It occurred to me that we didn’t need to be interlocking fingers to squeeze the other person’s hand.

We waited for the killer to start the pulse. Suddenly, Harry squeezed my hand too many times for me to count.

“Wait! Harry, you’re going too fast!” I exclaimed, stressed at the sudden attack of pulses.

“Oh, I just liked squeezing your hand. Ignore me,” Harry laughed, forever finding entertainment in annoying me.

I was so done. He only flirted with me to get a rise out of me, and I was incredibly tired of being used as his amusement in this way. Why couldn’t he just play with the kids instead of playing games with my emotions?

Frustrated, I stood up.

“I’m gonna go take a nap,” I called back to the kids, leaving the game for my cabin.

“Heeeeeeey, I’m sorry, come back,” Harry called from behind me. I ignored him.

I needed more rest from Harry than I did from the kids.

“Are you and Vicky like a mom and dad?” I heard one of the campers, Courtney, ask.

Harry only chuckled.

“Sure, Courtney. I wish.”

Day 6

We were both perched at the edge of the dock, legs hanging off and swinging at the same time, looking up and inspecting the sky. There wasn’t much light pollution in this area, so a lot of stars were clearer and brighter than I’ve ever had the chance to experience. Being surrounded by the celestial bodies made me feel really small, but in a good way, in a deep way, in a way that didn’t make me any less important in the universe.

I was wearing Harry’s sweater, despite my objections, because I had been shivering. He stripped himself of it, wordlessly handed it to me, and refused to take it back when I tried to return it. He may do stupid things sometimes, but he was still a sweet and caring kid.

Harry cleared his throat from next to me. I turned to find him already staring me, the serious look back in his eyes.

“What?” I asked, concerned.

“So.. tommorow’s our last day,” Harry stated.

“…Yup. It sure is.” I replied, confused.

“It’s just.. I’m gonna miss you. I feel like we bonded a lot taking care of our goofy kids together,” he confessed. This is the most vulnerable I had seen him through this entire week that I’ve known him. He was always laughing or grinning at whatever was happening around him, always cool and upbeat. He seemed almost nervous now, a stark contrast to our relationship which had grown really comfortable.

“Yeah, Harrison, me too. Well, we have each other’s numbers,” I said, trying not to think about how tomorrow was probably the last time that I’d ever see this silly kid that I’ve grown so close to this week.

“Our towns are only like 30 minutes away from each other. We should visit each other or something?” he asked, unsure of my response. He wasn’t even looking at me anymore, he was staring blankly at the lake. He was definitely nervous.

His curls were flowing with the wind. The light from the moon was hitting his eyes in such a beautiful way. I was finally sure that he wasn’t just being nice, or flirting with me just for fun. He actually liked me.

I was finally the one that was able to take him by surprise by grabbing his hand. He actually gasped as his face whipped to face me. I chuckled at that.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Come visit me.”

Then, at a summer camp ,with a boy I only knew for a week, I did the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done. I leaned in until our lips met.

When we parted a few seconds later, he grinned sweetly at me.

“I told you, a few days. I’m a camper with moves,” he laughed, referring to our orientation scenario.

“Oh, shut up, Harold,” I rolled my eyes, but not without a fond smile, leaning in again.