Second Time's the Charm

by Melissa J Morgan

  Everyone clamored to be first on line for the delicious—and thrillingly non-homemade—pastries. Suddenly a loud whistle pierced the air. It was Dr. Steve, standing on a chair at the head of the room, holding a clipboard and looking, for him, quite official.

  “Yes, we’re all very hungry and we all want to have a chance to get our first pick of doughnuts, but we’re going to have to form a single file line at the buffet table.” In response to the chorus of groans that rang out, he raised his voice. “I know, I know, it’s a huge hassle,” he teased. “But if you can’t keep to the line, you will be pulled out of it, and you will have to wait until everyone else has gone.”

  Immediately, the campers fell into perfect formation.

  “I thought that might be the encouragement you needed,” Dr. Steve said knowingly. “Now. Announcements. First off, anyone who wants to e-mail his or her parents should talk to your counselor about setting up a time. I should warn you, it will mean giving up some of your siesta time, so please take that into consideration. Also, on Thursday night, we will be having our first division campout—so, fourth years, get set, because you’re the lucky winners!”

  Cheers erupted on par with those emitted for the doughnuts. This was great news—even for Natalie! Whatever, she thought. Last summer I learned to appreciate the value of a great campout.

  The value being, of course, time to hang with Simon.

  This year, she’d actually know what she was doing. He’d be so impressed.

  But—oh. This would be a great opportunity to take a step toward Alyssa, Natalie realized. They could tent together. She spotted Alyssa a few paces back in the doughnut line, so she sacrificed her own slightly cushier position for the sake of catching up with her friend.

  “Hey, Lyss,” she said, feeling suddenly more nervous than she would have expected, “maybe we can—”

  “Natalie! We were just talking about the tent situation!” Tori said brightly. Somehow she already had what looked suspiciously like a glazed blueberry doughnut tucked away on a small paper plate, despite being reasonably far from the buffet table. Nat’s eyes almost bugged out of her head; blueberry doughnuts were her own favorite. They were also very hard to come by. “You have to be in our tent!” Tori continued.

  “You—you want me in your tent?” Natalie asked in disbelief.

  “Of course,” Tori said. “You’re, like, my soul sister here. I think you were meant to be my Girl Scout.” She winked. “I hear you know nature inside and out.”

  Tori had misunderstood her shock, Nat realized. It wasn’t that she couldn’t believe that Tori would want to be in a tent with her.

  Rather, it was that she couldn’t fathom that she was being invited to join her BFF and another random girl—albeit a very nice girl with great fashion sense and a good sense of humor—as though she were some sort of hideous third wheel. She was mortified.

  She looked quickly to Alyssa who, instead of rolling her eyes reassuringly or saying something normal, like, say, “Duh, of course you’re going to be in our tent,” just glanced downward. “Do you want to?” she offered halfheartedly, after an excruciating beat.

  Did she want to? Natalie wondered. Not exactly. Not in this freaky, upside-down world where she and Alyssa were about as friendly as Superman and Lex Luthor. But she couldn’t exactly say no. Saying no would be like throwing in the towel, quitting, giving up her friendship with Alyssa without even a fight. And Natalie for sure wasn’t a quitter. Especially when her friends were involved.

  “I’m in,” she said, gritting her teeth determinedly. And marched off to find another blueberry doughnut.

  Later that afternoon, the fourth division was involved in a heavy game of capture the flag. It was boys against girls, which was always good for drumming up people’s competitive spirits. Jenna’s twin brother, Adam, was guarding his team’s flag very earnestly, making taunting faces at any of the girls who dared to get close.

  Natalie hung to the back of the field, feeling uninspired. She thought she might have used up her summer’s allotment of athleticism the other day during kickball. So far this afternoon, Alyssa hadn’t spoken much to her. Of course, a huge division-wide competition wasn’t the best time to get all up close and personal, but then again, somehow that had never stopped them before.

  Bored, Natalie let her gaze wander around the field. She saw Gaby and Chelsea huddled together, strategizing—though whether it was about the game or about how to terrorize their bunkmates, Nat couldn’t be sure. She saw Sarah streaking across the green like her life depended on it. Another girl from her bunk—was it Abby?—was hot on Sarah’s heels. Maybe they had a sort of bait-and-switch plan of action going on. She saw Priya guarding Jordan, as usual. Just friends, huh? she wondered. Well, maybe.

  After all, right about now, they look a lot closer than Alyssa and I are.

  All around her, Natalie’s friends were Highly Involved in capture the flag. No one looked as quiet, moody, or—let’s face it—as downright lonely as Natalie felt. Jenna and Jessie were screaming, tearing forward, and laughing hysterically. Valerie and Brynn were standing off to one corner, eyeing the boys’ defense. In fact, the only other people on the field who looked as subdued as Natalie felt were . . .

  Wait a minute.

  The only other people on the field who looked as subdued, as intensely withdrawn as Natalie felt, were two people who, in Natalie’s opinion, had no business shoving their heads quite so close together.

  Tori and Simon.

  What on earth could Simon and Tori be discussing so . . . passionately?

  It’s not enough that she steals my best friend? Natalie thought, fuming. Now she has to go after my boyfriend, too? Nice.

  She was probably jumping to conclusions, she knew. In all likelihood, Tori was not after her man. So far, Tori had given her no reason not to be trusted.

  No reason other than the fact that she has completely sucked up all of Alyssa’s attention, Natalie mused, aware on some level that she sounded like a brat. She didn’t care. She hadn’t had a good heart-to-heart with Alyssa in days. That horrible, mean-spirited, spoiled-brat level was all she had right about now.

  Natalie spent the rest of the game kicking idly at the grass and hoping no one noticed her complete and total lack of participation. Alyssa sure didn’t, so that was one thing. When the game ended, Natalie glumly headed off back to the bunk by herself. She planned on taking a nap and doing a little well-earned wallowing all by her lonesome.

  She didn’t get far down the path, though, when she heard someone call her name. “Natalie!”

  It was a boy someone, she realized. A Simon someone. She paused in her tracks. Did she really want to talk to Simon right now? She knew he liked her, but seeing him talk to Tori like they were BFF made her feel . . . well, it made her feel wretched, wrung out like an old dish towel.

  You’re being silly, she told herself. You have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Get it together, Natalie.

  She swallowed hard and turned to face her boyfriend, pasting a bright smile on her face. She hoped it didn’t look too artificial. “Hi!” she said.

  “I didn’t get to hang out with you during the game,” Simon said.

  I know, Natalie thought. That’s because you spent the whole time talking to Tori. She managed to keep that feeling on the inside. But just barely. “Right,” she said.

  “It was a bummer,” he said matter-of-factly. Just as easily, he reached down and took her hand. Suddenly they were walking and holding hands. All thoughts of Tori were summarily banished from Natalie’s mind.

  “Where are we going?” Natalie asked as Simon turned unexpectedly. Now they were headed for the lake, rather than the bunks. Did he think they were going swimming? That would be . . . strange.

  “I just thought you might want to be alone for a little while,” Simon said. “You know, just to chill.” Was it Natalie’s imagination, or did Simon’s voice sound slightly shaky?

  After a few more minutes of uncomfo
rtable silence, Simon motioned toward a large, flat rock off to one side of the path. “Let’s sit,” he said.

  “Okay,” Natalie replied, still wondering why he was being so strange. They sat on the rock, which was cold. Simon continued to hold Natalie’s hand, only now his hand was shaky the way his voice had been. And also, kind of sweaty. It was a little bit gross. But a little bit exciting. And also a little bit nerve-wracking.

  Simon turned to look at her. He cleared his throat fairly ceremoniously. “Nat, I—” he started.

  That’s when it hit Natalie, all at once.

  Simon wanted to kiss her!

  There was no doubt in her mind that kissing was what this whole bizarre setup was all about. Why else would he have led her away from where the bunks were, when they were bound to get into trouble any minute now? And why else would he be nervous? Simon never got nervous; he was totally unflappable. That was one of the things Natalie adored about him. The shaky voice, the sweaty palms . . . oh yeah, it all added up to kissville.

  Yikes.

  Nat had never kissed a boy before, other than her father, or when Simon had kissed her on the cheek. For Pete’s sake, she was only twelve—well, okay, almost thirteen, but still—this was uncharted territory for her. And she had no idea what to do. Did she want to kiss Simon? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even positive she would know what to . . . well, do, with her lips, that is, if she did want to kiss him. It was all very confusing and, unfortunately, happening in fast-forward.

  Amid the swirl of emotions racing through her brain, there was only one thing that Natalie could be sure of: She needed time.

  It was possible—not probable, but possible, nonetheless—that she was okay with the idea of kissing Simon. But that was just the very basic, bare-bones concept. If she was going to work her way up to actually doing it, well, she needed a second opinion.

  A second opinion? Wait, no—this was bigger than that. There was only one other opinion that would do.

  She needed Alyssa.

  “I—uh, you know what?” Natalie asked, rising. “I forgot that . . . um, Andie asked me to be back at the bunk for something—”

  “Oh,” Simon said, looking crestfallen. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, totally sure,” Natalie babbled, backing away so awkwardly that she stumbled and nearly flipped over. “I’m, uh, going to get into trouble if I don’t get back.”

  “Then you should go,” Simon said, defeated.

  “‘Kay,” Natalie said, breathing too quickly. “But I’ll see you—”

  “Later,” Simon finished.

  “Yeah,” Natalie replied.

  Then she was off.

  “Please be there, please be there, please be there,” Natalie chanted to herself as she raced back to the bunk. Her heart beat thunderously in her chest. Sure, things were tense with Alyssa, but that could be worked through. There were more important things at hand now.

  Kissing things.

  She threw open the door of the bunk dramatically, gasping to catch her breath.

  “Slow down, speed racer,” Chelsea said, barely looking up from the letter she was writing. Natalie just ignored her. Quickly she glanced at Alyssa’s bed: empty. Of course—Alyssa was sitting on Tori’s bed. They were playing cards. Well.

  All at once, Natalie felt shy about bursting in on their game, interrupting them. But Alyssa would get it, the direness of this scenario. Right?

  Right?

  Natalie quickly crossed the room to where they were playing, before she could lose her nerve. “Lyss,” she began softly, “have you got a minute?”

  Alyssa looked up at Natalie, puzzled. “But—I’m playing,” she replied, gesturing rather pragmatically to her hand.

  “Yeah, I know,” Nat said apologetically. “But it’s important. It’s about Simon.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Natalie realized her mistake. Invoking Simon’s name was definitely not the way to go. Alyssa immediately bristled, and though she recovered almost as instantaneously, her body went ever-so-slightly rigid. Just rigid enough for Natalie to notice the subtle shift in body language.

  “Look,” Alyssa said, “I get that Simon is important to you, but I don’t think it’s fair of you to spend all of your time with him and then expect me to drop everything when it’s convenient for you.” She didn’t sound angry, just very reasonable and resigned. Almost alarmingly so. “Just the way I don’t interrupt you when you’re spending time with Simon, I don’t think you should barge in when other people are in the middle of something.” She waved her cards again.

  Natalie’s jaw dropped open. She wondered what the odds were that an earthquake would come and literally suck her down into the ground, just so she could escape the humiliation of this moment. Alyssa had seriously dressed her down. And the worst part was that she had practically no defense. There was nothing she could say. Her friend, always the practical one, was spot-on, as usual.

  “I . . . I’m sorry,” Natalie stammered. “I . . .” she trailed off. “Um, I guess you’re right.”

  For a split second Alyssa looked almost sorry, and Nat wondered if they would actually talk things through. Then someone—probably Chelsea—snickered, and the moment was broken. Natalie felt tears prickle up in the corners of her eyes. Well, if there was one thing she would not do, it was break down in front of the whole bunk. She turned on her heel and raced out of the bunk. She didn’t stop for anything.

  Not even Alyssa dashing out of the bunk, calling after her, minutes too late.

  chapter TEN

  The days building up to the campout were excruciating for Natalie. She had no idea what to say to Alyssa to make things better between them, so for the most part she just studiously avoided her ex-friend as best as she could without being too conspicuous about it. Though it was painful, it wasn’t all that hard, she realized; she had come to adjust to the idea of spending her free choices, siestas, and basically the rest of her free time with Simon. When, exactly, had that happened? she wondered. No wonder Alyssa felt so rejected.

  The worst time of day was free swim, when she and Alyssa usually went down to the waterfront to gossip and joke with each other. These days, Natalie and Lauren practiced their hairstyling skills on each other, which was fun, but totally not the same. Mia and Andie noticed that something was up, of course—they would have had to be blind not to notice—and they gently inquired, but Nat was noncommittal, not wanting to spill anything that might be construed as badmouthing Alyssa, and after a few attempts, the counselors mostly left her alone.

  For his part, Simon barely seemed to notice that anything was up with Natalie. He was deliberately choosing to ignore the fact that she’d freaked out when he’d been about to kiss her, which was fine by Natalie until she sorted that all out in her head. But it was odd, she thought, that he was so oblivious to the Alyssa situation. And here she’d thought he understood her so well! But then again, maybe she was putting on a better show than she realized; she didn’t want him to feel bad or involved or responsible for her state of mind.

  Or maybe boys were just totally dense when it came to these kinds of things? Maybe he still had his mind on the whole kissville thing? Which, for the record, hadn’t come up again. Nat couldn’t decide whether or not that was a good thing.

  The days dragged on slowly, mirroring Natalie’s own less-than-perky pace, but somehow, before she even realized, it was Thursday morning. Very early Thursday morning. The girls of 4A—along with the rest of the fourth division—were loading their knapsacks onto the string of yellow school buses idling noisily at the front playing field, where they’d all been dropped off just—had it been?—just shy of two weeks ago.

  “Everybody needs a buddy,” Andie was saying a bit wearily. She was usually a ball of caffeine and fire first thing in the morning, but today she looked slightly ragged. Tiny corkscrews poked out of the constraints of her ponytail elastic. Nat had a feeling that being responsible for ten preteens overnight in the great outdoors c
ould be a little nerve-wracking. She made a mental note to be especially nice to Andie for the duration of the trip.

  “I’m going to get us a three-seater,” Tori said, popping up like a sugar-rush victim. Unlike Andie, she was incredibly perky. Probably nervous, Natalie thought. She’d felt the same exact way this time last summer, when she’d had to go on a campout during the nature elective.

  Natalie nodded numbly. She hadn’t given any more thought than was absolutely necessary to the logistics of the trip; she, Alyssa, and Tori were still tenting together, as far as she knew. She and Alyssa were in a tragic state of forced, excessive politeness, which did not bode especially well for this trip. But who knew? Maybe they’d be forced to face off against the elements. Maybe they’d have to band together to combat rain, mosquitoes, and poison oak.

  “Nat, I grabbed us a seat!”

  Or maybe she’d spend the whole time with her boyfriend.

  Alyssa looked off at an imaginary point in the distance. “I should . . . go help Mia with the sleeping bags.” She wandered away, not meeting Natalie’s gaze.

  Now it was just Tori and Natalie. “You should . . . sit with him. If you want,” Tori said quickly, shrugging. She looked guilty. But guilty for what? For crushing on Nat’s guy? For stealing Nat’s best friend? For being caught in the middle of not one but two triangles, even though she was, for all intents and purposes, a perfectly nice girl?

  “Yeah,” Natalie replied, feeling half relieved and half panicked. This solution caused almost as many problems as it resolved. But whatever. Her head hurt. She was taking the easy way out. She looked back up at the bus, where Simon was peeking out the window at her.

  “Coming,” she called, and jogged off to take her seat.

  The good news about having a division-wide campout was that Natalie had all of her friends from last summer to keep her busy while things were so off with Alyssa. The two girls tried their best to be as normal as possible with everyone so that no one would feel uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like old times or anything. The old 3C-ers were tactful enough to pretend not to notice. Or maybe they were just genuinely enjoying themselves, Nat thought.