Virgin Camp

Natalie's POV

It was painful, watching Ryan kiss her Slayer. I guess I’ve never liked watching people kiss, even in movies, but it hurt my eyes, looking at them at the front of the room. Everyone was watching intently, probably trying to learn something from them. Pick up on some technique. I looked away. I don’t know—it just felt like I shouldn’t have been watching those two.

When I looked back to the front of the big room, Ryan was no longer there. I saw the very tips of her hair as she escaped through the door and out of the huge cabin. I could only imagine the havoc she would wreak. I was sure I’d find out soon enough. Word travelled fast at Virgin Camp.

“Let this be a lesson,” the Whitie up from said. She left it at that, and turned around to speak with the Slayers for a second. I wondered what lesson we were supposed to learn from what had just happened. The only thing I took from it was to never raise my hand at Virgin Camp.

The Whitie turned toward us again and clasped her hands behind her back . I noticed the girl beside me had a notebook in front of her, pen in hand. I stared at her in disbelief until she glanced my way. I finally turned away and slouched down in my seat.

“For those of you who have kissed someone before, I would like you to forget everything you think you know. Erase everything from your mind so we can start fresh—the right way.”

I envisioned the beach. The sun high up in the sky, me laying on the sand with Trish and Sawyer. I wanted to be there.

The Whitie started up the computer at her desk and the screen came to life. It floated around the room at the Whitie’s will. I stared, again in disbelief, as she went through a very thorough PowerPoint presentation on how to kiss correctly. The huge computer screen continued to float around the room so everyone could see the what it looked like to kiss someone—as if it was a completely new concept to these girls.

I went back to the beach in my mind, tuning out everything she said. It was like high school all over again. Sitting in the back of class. Not listening to a word the teacher said. How exactly had I graduated?

We didn’t even get a break. A new Whitie came in after an hour, but we weren’t allowed to move. The newer Whitie didn’t know anything about computers so we spent thirty minutes with the PowerPoint spazzing across the room. It was on a particularly intimate picture of a boy and a girl, up close and personal. The screen kept on gravitating toward me, and I felt like chucking it into the wall.

I was tempted to storm out like Ryan had—but that was stupid and I hated causing scenes. The Slayers left and came back a few times during the tedious lecture. I guess they could do whatever they wanted. They were amazingly good-looking—all of them—so it only made sense in this fucked up world that they could do whatever they pleased.

You’d think a lecture about kissing would at least be somewhat interesting, but alas, the Whities found a way to make everything a waste of time. Finally after what felt like three lifetimes of examining every aspect of kissing, the White dismissed us. I shot out of my seat, eager to see the sunlight and be away from all the idiocy clogging up the cabin.

“Make sure to grab a textbook from your Virgin Slayer on your way out!” the White called above the rustle of movement throughout the room.

Since I was in the very back, all the other girls were in front of me and by the time I got to Jackson, my Virgin Slayer, there was hardly anyone left in the room. He held out the last textbook in his pile to me, but when I reached to take it he pulled it back. I wasn’t playing that game. I put a hand on my hip and sighed loudly.

“Don’t you want your textbook?” he asked teasingly, with a hint of condescension.

“Actually, no. I don’t.”

He smirked. “Think you know all there is to know about the subject?”

I glared at him and practically ripped the textbook from his unsuspecting hands. “Jackass.” It fit perfectly, I realized as I walked out of the cabin and into the sunlight. Jackson the jackass. It was meant to be.

I walked around the camp for a while, dodging anyone who I happened to come across. Soon enough everyone seemed to disappear and I figured they were in the main cabin for lunch. I didn’t want to go to lunch. I wasn’t hungry anyway. So I wandered around from concrete path to concrete path, going deeper into the woods and away from the cabins. I walked until there was just the soft sound of my footsteps on the concrete—and eventually the overgrown grass as the path ended. I wondered how far I would go before I hit some kind of electric fence—but I never did. Instead, I found a lake.

Everything about it seemed private. It was surrounded by trees, far enough from the cabins that no one would stumble on it unless they were lost or looking. It felt like I didn’t belong there—like I wasn’t allowed. So naturally, I found a nice big rock to sit on and stayed there, looking at the sunlight glisten off the water. Staying there was like a small act of rebellion for me.

It was very peaceful and it made me feel better about having to spend the entire summer with a bunch of idiots—until I heard soft footsteps on the grass, coming up behind me. I prepared myself to face a Whitie or worse—my Virgin Slayer. But when I turned around to look, all I saw was a simple boy trampling through the overgrown grass, practically tripping over his own feet. He was looking at the ground, concentrating on not falling over, so he didn’t see me until he was a few feet away. He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening.

“Hi,” I said hesitantly, not knowing what else to do. He was just standing there like he expected me to burst into flames at any moment. I examined him as he stood in front of me, as awkward as any human could possibly be. He looked about my age, with light brown hair that fell across his forehead and what looked to be the lightest green eyes I had ever seen.

“Hi…” he said with a bewildered look on his face.

“Um…” I didn’t know what else to say. Was he even a Virgin Camper, or was he just some random guy wandering around in the woods? What if he was some crazed freak that wanted to do bad things to teenage girls? I knew he wasn’t though, because he was looking at me like he was trying to decide if I was some crazed freak.

The peaceful silence from just a few moments ago had turned incredibly awkward. He was standing there, not moving, and I was just watching him, waiting to see if he would do anything—which he didn’t.

“So are you going to leave, or…?” I looked at him expectantly. It was only fair. I had gotten there first. I wanted to get back to the peaceful silence, and the only way I could see that happening was if he left.

“No,” he said, dragging out the word and knitting his eyebrows together. He pointed a thumb back the way he had come. “I’m not going back there yet.”

I bit back a smile. “So you hate it too?”

“I… guess.” He shrugged. “I just don’t like people in general.”

“And why’s that?”

“They’re annoying.”

“You’re a person,” I said. “Does that mean you don’t like yourself and you think you’re annoying?”

He tilted his head to the side. “I guess it does,” he said, like it had never occurred to him before. “Mind if I sit?” He pointed to the enormous rock I was sitting on.

“Sure.” I shifted over to make room for him.

“I’m Owen,” he said. But apparently he couldn’t walk and talk at the same time, because he ended up tripping over who-knows-what, and almost nose-diving right into the rock.

“Smooth,” I said with a laugh.

His face turned red and he rolled his eyes. “I could have cracked my head open, and you’re sitting there laughing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that annoying to you?”

“No, but that tone is.”

“Would you look at that. We’ve got a smartass over here.”

He grinned and finally sat down next to me, making sure not to touch any part of me. Yes, he was definitely a virgin. Sometimes you can just tell, especially with guys.

“I’m Nat,” I said, feeling like a kindergartener on her first day of school. Especially in the god-awful dress I was wearing.

He laughed but tried to cover it up with a cough.

“What?” I asked cautiously.

“Nothing,” Owen said innocently. “Your name suits you well.”

I sighed. “Go on. Tell me why my name suits me.” I knew, just by the tone of his voice and the glint in his eye that he had some lame joke relating to my name that he was dying to tell.

“It’s nothing, really. It’s just that you’re like those bugs… you know, the little ones that fly around old fruit and stuff? The gnats? They’re annoying too.”

“Wow. You’re such a mature human being. I’m impressed by your superior intelligence.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Haven’t you ever heard that guys make fun of girls they like?”

I scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

“Sometimes you don’t have to,” he said with a shrug.

Was he being serious? I had a sudden decision to make. I could either wave away his implications, or I could go down the risker path. I could have a little fun at Virgin Camp.

I looked at him expectantly and raised my eyebrows. It was a challenge. I wanted to see what he would do.

He grinned, and it made his whole face look younger. I was trying to figure out how old he could be when he leaned forward and planted his lips right on mine. I was a little shocked at the suddenness of the kiss, and how close he was, but I got over it once I realized he was kissing me. Damn. My second day at Virgin Camp and I was already kissing some guy I hardly knew. Go, Nat.

I pulled back to look at him. “For the record, I only think you’re a little annoying.”

“I don’t think you’re annoying at all,” he countered.

“You should kiss me again.”

That made him laugh. “Come here,” he said quietly.

Then—oh, God. The first kiss had been a little weird, because I didn’t know how he worked and he didn’t know how I worked, so we weren’t really in sync. But when he kissed me again—it was perfect. Probably because it felt wrong in all the right ways. I was pretty sure the Whities would disapprove—they couldn’t have the inexperienced campers frolicking around with each other and doing the dirty, could they? What would that do for their reputation?

It was like, instead of this camp controlling my actions, I was carving my own path. This was something the Whities had no control over. It was like my own little form of rebellion.

Owen’s hands were sitting awkwardly at his sides, so I took one and put it behind my neck, then intertwined my fingers with his other hand. He hummed a little in appreciation and kept kissing me. He was a pretty good kisser. I could tell he had some kind of experience. He was just a little awkward.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I heard the shrill cry of a middle-aged woman and broke away from Owen. We looked at each other guiltily for a second before turning to face the wrath of the Whitie, standing with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“Get off of there. You’re not allowed back here.”

I widened my eyes at Owen, and he had to put a hand over his mouth to cover up his laugh. We got off the rock and made our way to the Whitie.

“Get back to lunch, both of you,” she said, sounding disgusted.

We obeyed her—what else could we do? So we set off toward the camp, with the Whitie trailing us in case we tried to make a break for it. Owen tripped over the overgrown brush until we found the path. I tried not to laugh at him. Once we were on the path, I felt his hand brush mine, and grabbed onto it, winding my fingers through his securely. I didn’t even have to look at him to see the grin on his face.

“No touching!” the Whitie yelled from behind us.

“No touching,” Owen mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

I laughed and let go of his hand, sending him a grin.