“Good. No, you’re wrong, blue is clearly superior,” I say, giving him my most heated look.
“So … you look kinda hot doing that.”
“Doing what?” I say, smiling.
“Just, being so forceful.”
“Oh. Well … the blue juice is better,” I say, and grab the collar of his shirt and pull him toward me for a kiss.
“Is this part of the sketch?” Hudson asks in a whisper.
“Del!” Mark calls. “Come on! We’re headed down and I have a cheap disposable underwater camera to give you, which Joan is going to mail away to get developed because no one uses these anymore except for underwater photos.”
“I’d better go. But I think you have the sketch down.”
“I never realized being on opposite sides could be sexy,” Hudson says.
“Don’t say that when I’m leaving. That’s just mean.” I grab him, and pull him in for another kiss before running back into the cabin, where Mark hands me a camera and I quickly change into my swimsuit. They give us the cameras every year for the night swim, even though the photos never come out. Mark says Joan wants a cool nighttime underwater shot for the website but is too cheap to hire a real photographer to get one.
At the pool, Joan, who is not in a swimsuit and will not go into the pool, loudly reminds everyone to wind the camera between shots before we all dive in. The sun is low, so most of the light comes from the few lights set up around the pool and the underwater lights. Everyone dives under, snapping selfies or shots of their friends with bubbles coming out of their noses, hoping for a shot that isn’t blurry. I take one of Hudson kissing me on the cheek above water, and one underwater. Neither of them will come out, but it’s fun to do this couple-y thing, the taking of the selfie, the posing, the being willing to display it … if not on our phones, then maybe on our bunks when we get the prints, and at the end of the summer, we can download the photos with a code they send us.
So that’s neat.
I spot George and Brad doing some cute, couple-y photos, too, and Paz and Ashleigh doing photos together, if not kissing ones. But Paz does put her arm around Ashleigh’s waist, so maybe they’ve talked. I should check in on that.
After pool time, Hudson and I kiss good night, and in the cabin, I try on the romper Charity made me, which fits perfectly. And, which, when left unbuttoned most of the way, showing off my somewhat hairy chest and treasure trail, looks perhaps too sexy. I’ll have to remember to unbutton it for Hudson.
“Darling, you look amazing. Where did you get that? If we had real cameras, I would take a photo of you for your dating profile right now.”
“I don’t need a dating profile anymore,” I say, grinning and turning around from the bathroom mirror I’ve been admiring myself in. “And from the looks of you and Brad, neither do you.”
“Oh.” George waves me off and starts brushing his teeth. “It’s just a fwing.”
I shrug. “Whatever. It’s cute. I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“I’ll have more fun when we can have some awone time.”
I laugh.
“What’s funny?” Ashleigh asks, walking in. I look behind her—no Paz.
“George. But I want to know …” I lower my voice. “What’s going on with you and Paz?”
“Oh.” Ashleigh looks behind her at the bathroom door. “I don’t know. She’s nice.”
“And?” George asks, foam dripping from his mouth.
Ashleigh shrugs. “I could be … maybe … thinking she’s kind of hot.”
“YESH!” George says, spitting foam everywhere, though thankfully not on my romper. He spits into the sink. “Good.”
“But that doesn’t mean she likes me,” Ashleigh says, putting toothpaste on her own brush.
George and I roll our eyes at each other and I go back into one of the stalls to put on my pajamas.
“Of course she does,” George says.
“She’s friendly, I don’t know,” Ashleigh says.
“Just talk to her,” I say. I don’t want to betray Paz’s confidence, but if neither of them speak to each other all summer, it’s going to be ridiculous.
“Maybe,” Ashleigh says. I step out of the stall, changed. Ashleigh is brushing her teeth, and George shrugs at me. I go to put my romper away, and George walks with me.
“You never said where that came from,” George says, nodding at the romper.
“Uh … someone made it for me. For a thing,” I say.
“Oh.” George nods. “Blue. Right. Good. I just got a package with blue nail polish and eye shadow. I’m set.”
I smirk and get into bed, not wanting him to show me the makeup I won’t be able to wear.
“Oh, and I think there’s some glittery blue lipstick in the drama cabin. I bet Mark will let us use it.”
“Probably,” I say, getting under the covers.
“Sorry, sorry, I know, shouldn’t talk about it. But I’ll be prepared. I have a blue fan, too. I’m excited for the looks I’ll be working.”
I don’t say anything, feeling sad about the two streaks of blue under my eyes being the closest I’ll get to makeup of any kind this summer. The closest I get to expressing my real style. Maybe I can put some glitter on them. I can get away with that, right? And besides, what am I even worrying about? Hudson is falling for me. I could probably wear a full face and he’d be fine.
The next day, when I meet with the other captains, we finalize all our cheers and go over which cabins are on what games again. Everyone is still skeptical of my cabin taking on the obstacle course, until I explain my reasoning to them, and then everyone gets excited, like maybe we have a chance.
“You’ll have to convince everyone, though,” Paz says. “I mean, I’ll help, but this is your idea, and theater kids are great at self-esteem when they know they’re going to be good. But if they think they’re going to come in second place … well … you know how we are.”
“I think it’ll be good,” I say.
That night, the camp activity is stargazing. We’ve shut out all the lights in camp and are lying in the middle of the soccer field while Karl, the nature counselor, points out constellations and planets, his accent making it all sound very academic. Hudson and I lie in the grass holding hands.
“So, tomorrow, we’re not meeting before dinner,” I tell him. “Are you?”
“No. We have everything worked out, so we’re not worrying about it again until Friday.”
“So, maybe you want to visit my friends in the drama cabin? Mark is running rehearsals before dinner now.”
“Oh,” he says, as though he’d forgotten we were doing that. “Yeah, okay. We’re just going to watch rehearsals?”
“And go backstage, maybe. It’s chaos, but fun, relaxed chaos.”
“Have you been already?”
“Yeah,” I say. “They invited me.” And I want to tell him how it felt like home and how I felt sad to be there, but not REALLY be there, but I can’t, and holding all that back makes me cough suddenly, and feel like I’ve been hit in the throat.