Chapter Thirteen: Here's To Romance

Sarah finished breakfast as usual and was on her way back out of the dining hall when Blink tapped her shoulder. She jumped a little, since her bunkmates had already managed to get her paranoid, but relaxed a little when she saw who it was.

"Ideas?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Let's go talk. You got any problems with breaking into the kitchen tonight?"

"Kitchen?" she repeated.

"Trust me. Ditch the evening activity tonight, meet me on the back porch of the dining hall and I'll explain. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, finding the whole thing vaguely weird, but at the same time she was fairly excited. She had yet to get back at Smurf or Hotshot, and was more than eager to do so, and Shakes had told her that Blink wasn't too bad with pranks. If nothing else, he'd seen a lot of them in action and had a list of them saved up; that was what came from sharing a bunk with Jack for the last three years.

Shakes caught up with her as she started walking again. "So, you and Blink," she mused.

"What?"

"You two have been talking an awful lot." Shakes shrugged.

"Yeah, he's gonna help me get back at… What?" she demanded, as Shakes started giggling.

"Nothing," Shakes answered in a sing-song voice. "He's a cutie."

"He's what?"

"He's cute."

"…He is?" Sarah repeated. She hadn't even thought of that, which was a little unusual for her. At school, that was the first thing she noticed… But at camp, everyone looked like, well, like they were at camp. Finding someone whose hair wasn't messed up from the wind or who wasn't covered in mud was hard, and she hadn't bothered to look past all of that.

"Sure, if you like blondes, I guess," she finally agreed.

"You don't like blondes?"

Sarah shrugged a little, then lowered her voice and hissed, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

"I mean, a few people already know but…" She giggled nervously. "It's definitely not Blink I've got a crush on."

"Who?" Shakes asked quietly, looking around to make sure no one else was nearby.

"Jack," Sarah finally said dreamily, and smiled a little. "I'll bet he's even cute with the chicken pox."

"…You're weird."

*

The day passed far more slowly than Sarah would have liked. Riding was boring without Jack, who wasn't even her instructor. He was just pretty to look at. She had her swimming hour with Artemis instead of Specs because he was still on his day off; she played tennis and waited and waited. The day just dragged.

The evening activity was an all camp game of kickball, which meant that it was loud enough and chaotic enough that slipping away wasn't much of a problem. So, at last, she found herself sitting on the back porch with Blink. "No one's in the kitchen; c'mon," he said and grabbed her arm, practically dragging her inside.

The kitchen was never locked before the seniors' night time snack, so getting in was even less of a problem then usual. Sarah watched in confusion as Blink began to rummage through cupboards, until, satisfied, he set out a few ingredients on the counter.

"Uh?" Sarah asked, skeptically looking at the box of powdered milk and the packet of red bugjuice mix. "Am I supposed to cook for them or what?"

"Nah. See," he was smirking and clearly too proud of himself, "what you do is, take the milk and when no one else is in the cabin, put it under Hotshot's sheet, remake the bed No one notices anything."

"Including Hotshot."

"Yeah, but, at night you get hot, right? You sweat. Which then mixes with the milk through the sheet, there's some… chemistry thing about that or something… and anyway. She smells like spoiled milk for a few days. Because it gets in your pores and it's freaking impossible to get out."

Sarah couldn't help but be skeptical. "Really?"

"Swear to God. Jack did it to Race a few years ago; he stunk."

She shrugged. "Okay…"

"Just don't get caught and it'll rock. Serious."

"I'll do it."

"Great. Okay; the bugjuice… If you want to be really mean you empty it into someone's dirty laundry; everything comes back stained red. But you can get in major trouble for that since it destroys everything."

"So then what good is it?"

"Same basic thing, but it actually needs to be in the sheets. So I guess… Whoever is less likely to notice it. But it doesn't smell. It stains."

"Uh… Okay, sure."

"Nothing hard, right? But lots of fun."

She glanced down at the items on the counter, then slowly picked them up and smiled. "Thanks, Blink. You've got no idea how much this means to me."

"Sure I do. I've wanted to do some of this stuff to Smurf for years but can't get into the girls' bunk… So, partners in crime?" He offered his hand.

"Yeah. Partners." She shook his hand firmly. Though oddly, Blink hadn't struck her as the sort of guy who was likely to be the brains of any operation, criminal or otherwise. But if what he was claiming worked, their partnership was definitely going to be worth it.

*

The days slipped into one another until David was no longer sure how long he'd been in the infirmary, sharing a room with Jack and doing his best not to scratch the sores on his skin. It had been long enough that he'd finished the entire collection of Hardy Boys books and was more than halfway through the Baby Sitter's Club books as well. Jack had finished Dune and was keeping himself content with the little kid's magazines Triage stocked the place with.

It was amazing how engaging "what's wrong with this picture?" could be when a person was too sick to move.

But eventually it hit the point when the sores were starting to scab over, which Triage declared to be a great sign–it meant that they were past the worst of it, and it would probably only be another three or four days before they could get back to life as usual.

David had only just gotten used to life as usual at camp, and wasn't sure he'd be able to go back to it so easily. But Jack seemed pretty thrilled by the prospect.

Jack…

David glanced over at Jack, who had fallen asleep on a copy of Highlights, his head resting on his arm instead of the pillow. And David smiled just a little bit. It was amazing, but they'd been in the infirmary together for… four days? He wasn't sure. Awhile, anyway. And now he felt like he knew Jack better than he knew anyone else; it seemed impossible that a mere two weeks ago, he'd never met the guy before.

He knew all of Jack's moods, from the happy go lucky charmer to the depressed, withdrawn teenager. He knew what the awkward pauses in conversations meant, either Jack was tripping over his words (which happened when he was excited about what he was discussing) or he was trying to make a serious point and needed to collect his thoughts. Or sometimes, because he was thinking about home and just didn't want to talk. That was usually the withdrawn mood.

David hated seeing that, but it really didn't happen very often. Thankfully.

Then there was that… other kind of pause in the conversation. The one David hadn't figured out yet. They'd be goofing around or talking or just generally getting along, and suddenly Jack would be quiet for a few seconds and look kind of nervous, and then he'd look over at David, and smile, and go on with whatever he was saying. It was kind of unnerving, the way he always smiled after those pauses.

David wondered what they meant. He wondered why he found them so fascinating.

It was Jack who eventually realized the date when Triage brought the dinner one evening. It was a little less… cooked…. Than usual. In that it was slices of tomato, cheese, grilled chicken and a bun, none of which were actually put together to form a coherent sandwich. There was bugjuice to drink and cupcakes with white frosting and red and blue sprinkles for desert.

"Oh. Cookout," Jack noted.

"Uhhh…. What?"

"See, normally you'd get to choose your own stuff from a buffet type thing," Jack clarified. "But since we're stuck up here…"

"Gotcha." David began to assemble his sandwich.

"Cupcakes…" Jack mused, then, "Wow, it's the Fourth of July already."

"What?"

"Patriotic cupcakes. They do that every year on the fourth." Jack sighed and began to put his own sandwich together. "I can't believe we're gonna miss everything. This bites."

"Miss what?" David asked with his mouth full.

Jack looked amused. "Swallow, doofus." He grinned, and gave David that look, then continued talking. "Every year, there's a guy down the lake who does fireworks and you can see them from… well, everywhere. And then at night there's a big bonfire on the boat beach and everyone… roasts marshmellows and sings campfires songs."

"Sounds fun."

"It sounds lame, but it is really fun… The last few years they've conned Dutchy into playing guitar. He and Specs sing together, it's ridiculous. They spend hours working out harmonies for old folk songs I guess… But they sound really good."

David nodded, engrossed with his sandwich, or at least, with trying not to taste it. He wasn't sure quite what had been done to the poor chicken, but he'd never tasted anything like it before, and hoped never to again.

But Jack seemed to have gone off into his personal dream world.

"You know, those two guys… They're so lucky. They don't even know how lucky they are."

David gave up on the cheese he was attempting to chew and just swallowed, then gagged and washed it down with juice, which really didn't help much. He made a face and Jack laughed a little. Finally he managed to choke out, "What about them is so lucky?"

"Each other." Jack picked at the rather sickly looking tomato for a second before squishing the top of his roll on to it. "They've been together for years. You didn't know?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Well… Yeah, not everyone does."

"Right. Can't say I hadn't wondered about Specs…"

Jack laughed. "Yeah, everyone wonders about Specs. It's Dutchy that surprises most people."

"I don't know Dutchy…"

"You should go sailing." Jack looked at him contemplatively for a second, then smiled again. "You're too pale; you should do more outside instead of hiding in the theater."

"You sound like my mother."

"Well, she's probably right. What's the point of going to camp if you refuse to do camp things?"

"Going to camp wasn't my idea," David reminded him, having already explained the situation that had landed him at camp several days before.

"Yeah, yeah, but still… Hey, when we're out of here, you could come to riding."

"Ha. No."

"Aw, c'mon."

"No. I don't do the horse thing."

"Scared?"

"No. Just full of hate."

"Scared," Jack decided.

"I'm really not. I just don't like horses!"

"Okaaaaay." Jack took a tentative bite of his sandwich, and choked it down. "Could be worse…" he mused.

"How?"

"Could have been chicken."

David almost spat out his mouthful. "I thought it was!"

Jack cracked up. "Kidding! Well… I think… Kinda hard to say sometimes."

"I miss real food."

"My next day off, I'll smuggle some in for you," Jack promised.

"You rule."

"…If you come to riding. Come on; I'm a counselor for beginners, so how bad could it be?"

"So much worse than you could possibly imagine."

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself, then…"

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and finally Jack just mumbled, "So lucky…" to himself again.

"You really think so?" David asked.

"You know what I'd give to have that kind of relationship?" Jack answered. "Seriously… There's only one other gay guy at my school and he's a real jerk; everyone hates him. But his dad's on the school board so no one says anything."

"Oh."

"Yeah… God, I've never… How sad is it that the only kiss I've ever had was that jerk in ninth grade?"

"Hey; I've never kissed anyone," David countered. "Nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Guess not."

"Or maybe I'm just a loser."

"You're not a loser," Jack said emphatically.

"Tell that to my parents."

"Okay." Jack grinned. "On parents' weekend. I will."

"Yeah, good luck." David gave up on the sandwich and tried the cupcake which was, surprisingly, not bad. Well, not bad by camp food standards. He gave Jack a contemplative look, and finally commented, "You know, you're gonna meet someone someday, Jack. You're too… You're too good not to. So don't worry."

Jack smiled. "And I bet someday soon, some… Some girl's gonna get her first kiss from you, Dave."

"Here's to romance, then." David held up his cup. "Happy Fourth of July."

"Happy Fourth," Jack echoed, clinked his plastic cup and attempted to clink with David's though clinking was hard with soft plastic, and they both finished off their juice.

Here's to romance… Where did that come from? David wondered as he turned back to his book. But he knew without looking that Jack was watching him again.

Watching him, and smiling.

*

Sarah didn't have an opportunity to act with the stolen milk and juice mix until the fourth. Everyone else was out at the bonfire and she claimed she was running back to get a sweater, carefully followed Blink's directions, remade the bed, grabbed her sweater and was back almost before people wondered where she'd gone. Of course, her heart was beating a little too hard and she was sure someone would realize she was up to something, but Chancey didn't even give her a second glance.

Blink did, though. He cocked his head and gave her a questioning look, and she nodded a little. He grinned and mouthed, "Way to go," and that was that. So she settled in next to Shakes to make a smore and listen to Specs and Dutchy, who were currently singing an old Simon & Garfunkel song which she only knew because her mom listened to that sort of thing a lot.

But she could hardly wait for the next morning.

[End Chapter Thirteen]
Chapter Fourteen: It Only Takes a Moment
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