Chapter 4;

Maybe I don’t fear boys. Maybe, just maybe, I’m born with the inability to speak or interact with them like how normal girls do. Oh my gosh, maybe I embody a disgusting smell unbeknownst to me and Carol wouldn’t tell me! I’m going to kill her if I find out that that’s the problem, which I hope is not, because it’s embarrassing.
I had a relationship before, surprisingly. Sometimes it stings in my eyes when I think of it, but sometimes I feel like rummaging my kitchen cupboard for a knife to chop that guy off to pieces – if you’re reading this, Lucas, I apologize for your lack of luck. Letting go was difficult – it was like running on a beach when the wind is blowing and there are signs of rain oncoming. Once, I was at a beach and I had a great time walking around until the wind caught up suddenly, and I had to duck for cover as it started to drizzle. I ran, and the sand hitting against my shin was unbearable as I picked up the pace. If you have no idea what I’m saying, you should try running on a beach with a pair of slippers, and run hard.
That was letting go. It was crazy, because I knew letting go of him, letting go of our relationship, would benefit us two parties. He didn’t really like me anyway, and when I think of it, I think the thrill of a first Boy Girl Relationship was the thing that got me holding on. It took a long time to sink in my mind that I’d rather have a stable boyfriend who really loves me, and not experiment me. Have you ever wondered about what dating meant? I don’t know, half the people I know who dated somebody almost never have another day out with them.
I’ve watched MTV and I know how people are supposed to be casual in every conversation, in every commitment, treat it like it was nothing, to avoid heartache, disappointment, and I know it’s because the fear of having it end is like a cut in the flesh. That’s my vow in this camp. Well, except the point that I’m here to help the green and nature and all. Today, I’m going to go out this door (that I’m looking at because Carol is changing in the toilet and we have to get going already!) and get to know someone without hesitating.
I feel the same feeling I get every time someone on stage hollers, “Open Mike! Who wants to sing, you’re welcomed!”. The feeling that fuzzes and bubbles, like you can do anything. I smiled, rise up, prays a little, and finally knocks at the toilet door. “Seriously, I know you like the toilet very much, but we’re late.”
The knob turns a little, and I grab my bag from the table. Carol comes out looking like she was going out for a dinner, or for a Grammy award. Either way, she looked stunning. Available. And also, inappropriate. I kept my mouth shut, because she’ll have to learn that if you’re going to help the world, you’re going to sacrifice some things and in this case: expensive gladiator heels and a D&G navy blue dress.
She walks out of the door, me tailing behind. Then we start toward the lift, and we were met by a couple of guys with wild blonde hair waiting for the lift too. As usual, Carol gets the look in her eyes where it sparkles like sparkling juice. Here we go again, I’ll just watch as Carol gets slowly dissolved into the conversation and gets two new boy best friends. A thing about Carol is, she doesn’t commit. And sometimes, it’s an advantage, because she doesn’t treat everything like it was dead serious. I am the opposite, I’m hardcore. If you put me in the same scenario, and if the guy talks to me, I’d be walking down the stairs thinking what he meant with every word he said. Then I’ll analyze his features in my mind, and starts going he isn’t that bad-looking. It’s crazy.
That doesn’t change the fact that guys are unintuitive. Carol smiled at both of them, and they looked at each other like they’d just scored big. I folded my arms across my chest and watched it unfold before my eyes. Why can’t the guys just suck it up and utter a “hey” or “hi” or “hello” if he was a gentleman?
Carol stood still in her dress, and at that moment, I felt like laughing. Here we all are, decked in shorts and Tees, and she’s strapped into a dress. A dress. Maybe she just doesn’t know that we’re going to eventually fall into puddles of mud when we’re swinging by braches of trees like Tarzan. “Carol, you watch too much TV.” I whispered to her.
She looks at me and smile, and then shrugged. “I know what I’m doing.”
Hmm, maybe she knows that I was referring to the dress.
***
We’re all gathered in the lobby, everyone busy talking or squealing or catching up with what’s happened after the last camp last year.
Carol’s seated cross-legged on the floor with me, watching everyone curiously. I spotted a girl looking wide-eyed at a guy like a hawk. It’s so obvious she likes him. This is what I like to do: watch and unlearn.
She finally muttered up enough courage and walks up to him where he’s pouring himself a drink at the counter. I hug myself and bring my knees nearer to my body, and watch them like I was in the movies. The girl was probably a year older than me, with freckles at the right spots, a curvy figure, and beautiful legs. I smiled thinking how lucky a guy would be to have her. As she walks towards him, her legs tangled together – maybe she was nervous, these things happen – and fell to the floor. The guy, hearing her little yelp, looked behind. Maybe if he saw her long enough, he’d figure how pretty she is and help her up.
But noooo, there he is, dropping the cup and starts guffawing. He’s in my burn book, I tell you. The girl blushes scarlet red, got help from a nearby friend, and trots away, tears in her eyes. The guy, on the other hand, pulls a friend nearby to him, and points at where she fell, and they start laughing.
Do you see what I mean? But anyway, I learn to not walk up to a guy with a drink.
I would’ve walked there and give them a tight slap, but Arthur appeared and starts tapping on the mike. “Alright people, settle down.” I let them off, and focused on what he said. Generally, it’s about how important the nature is and repetitive sentences like, “We should love Mother Earth.”
I’ve heard this numerous times, including last year. Almost dozing off, I stood up and walk to the restroom, where I heard muffled cries. At first I thought it was just some soundtrack being played too loud from somewhere, but it was a cry. I walked into the toilet, bracing myself for the ghost of some girl who got killed in one of the cubicle, and walked to the sink. The cry was louder, and I knocked on the cubicle. Somehow I have the idea that it was the girl before.
“If you’re the girl that got laughed at by the jerk, calm down.” I said with a steady voice. Then I wash my hands and splatter some water on my face to waken me up. The cry stopped, and slowly, the girl got out, her mascara running down her face, and her lips a little swollen.
I felt pitiful, and sighed. “Why’re you crying?”
“Who’re you?”
I thought for a second as she sniffed her last series of snots, then I shrugged, “A girl who goes through the same things.”
For a moment, we were silent – except for her sniffs. She then smiles, “I’m Abel.”
“Gwen. Gwen Sliver.”
“I thought he was nice. I don’t know, I- I just wanted to know his name. I can’t believe I fell. Maybe if I didn’t, he would still be the perfect guy I have in mind.” She stares blankly at the mirror above the sink. I roll my eyes, “Everything happens for a reason, Abel. He’s a jerk.”
She nods a little. Understatement of the year: Guys suck.