Camp Redwood

“There’s a boy,” I tell the therapist, twiddling my thumbs as I glance up at her. She stops writing and looks up at me, raising an eyebrow, surprised.

“Really?” I nod and bite my thumbnail, tapping my foot up and down.

“Yes, really. He’s special.”

“What about this boy makes him special?”

“He makes me nervous.”

“Nervous how?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” I stammer.

“Why does he make you nervous?”

“He’s um…he likes me, apparently.”

“That’s…good, right?” I shrug and my shirt slips off my shoulder, so I fix it, trying to distract myself for a second. “What’s the problem?”

“He makes me feel funny, in a good way a-and he gives me this weird butterfly thing and I can’t think straight around him and I’ve never felt that for anybody, ever, and we’re so different and I don’t know what—”

“Lupe,” she says simply with a small smile, taking her glasses off her face, “it just sounds like you like him too.”

“But I—” I stop myself, sighing quietly. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I mean, what if he has this totally wonderful image of me when I’m actually, you know, a walking basket case, and I don’t think he gets that I’m really crazy and—”

“You’re not crazy.”

“I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Because of him?”

“He’s driving me crazy.”



Aubrey glances at me, braiding her hair lazily. I’m trying to read a magazine on the beach, and not think about what happened last night. It’s not as easy as I’d like it to be, because I hate Shakespeare and I only like Hamlet and Macbeth because they’re twisted and everybody kills each other, but his whole ‘Lupe is the sun’ speech was sweet, I think, because he came here in the middle of the night and didn’t give up, like he never does, and then he kissed me and it was nice, I guess, but I don’t know. I feel messed up.

He’s messed me all up.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I mumble, flipping a page. I cover my face with the magazine, wanting to sleep for a second or two, because after what happened last night, I couldn’t sleep, not really, and I’m kind of tired. Aubrey laughs and I ignore it, closing my eyes behind my sunglasses. Someone pokes my side.

“Hey, buttercup.” I lift my magazine slowly and look over at him, at his smile and how different he looks and I’m not sure if it’s because of me or because he’s well rested or whatever. I don’t know. I feel confused. I go back to my magazine because I don’t want to say anything, especially not in front of Aubrey, because she’s nice and all, but she can’t keep a secret. And it comes in handy, sometimes, but not today, definitely not today. “Are you mad?” I sit up and sigh, pulling my hair into a bun on my head. I shove the magazine in my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I get up and leave because I can’t deal with him, or Aubrey and her questioning glances, or all these…feelings.

“What’d I say?”

It’s weird.



It’s early. So early, in fact, that everyone is still asleep and it’s only a couple of minutes before dawn. Up, down, up, down, in, out, over and out, I remind myself, trying to pace my running. Dr. Poxleitner has me under strict orders to not exercise and to avoid all forms of it, but I can’t help myself. I’m crazy, after all.

I’ve been running around for the last two hours, and all I’ve been able to think about is him.

I don’t like this.



“I don’t like you,” Kalliope says as she sits across from me. “I actually kind of hate you. You’re kind of a slut and mean and petty and I just don’t like you.”

“Okay…” I trail off, looking up from my uneaten lunch at her. “You can leave. Nobody called you over here.”

“I know that. I’ll leave in a minute. This conversation won’t change anything between us. We’re not friends and we’re never going to be friends. Understand? Super. I’m just, you know, thinking, that maybe, just…maybe, you should give Keegan a chance. I mean, he’s actually really nice—”

“I know that.”

“And sometimes he seems really mean and can be an idiot, sometimes, but he means well, I think, and he actually sees something good in you, because he likes you—”

“Because he can’t have you.”

“No.”

“Yeah. He likes you. And, you know what? I’m just, you know, thinking out loud here,” I say sweetly, “that maybe, just…maybe, you should go to hell.” I shrug, going back to playing with my food.

“Why are you so mean?”

“Why are you still here?”



He’s sweet and nice and soft and I don’t know what I’m doing.

“I’m not a second choice,” I say quietly, pulling away. “I’m nobody’s second choice.” I look over at him. “You know that, right? I’m not going to be your second choice, Keegan. I deserve better than that.”

“But you’re not—”

“I am, aren’t I? I mean, you can’t have Kalliope, so you just chase after me instead because she’s too busy freaking out about her boyfriend or whatever and won’t bother to give you the time of day. I’m not her, and if you want or think I’m—” He kisses me again and I push him away, frowning. “What was that for?”

“You’re cute when you ramble.”

“Shut up.” I climb onto him, frowning down at him as he grabs my hips, smirking at me.

“Even cuter when you’re mad.”

“Are you going to let me finish?”

“Probably not.” I look over and narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not my second choice, okay? I like you. I don’t know what’s so hard to understand about that. I like you a lot, and it’s kind of pathetic, but I don’t care anymore because I just like you, a lot, and that’s all I know anymore.”

“I’m not Kalliope—” He flips us over and I want to laugh, a little, because he is, but I can’t, so I just smile a little instead. He kisses me and rests his forehead on mine.

“I don’t want Kalliope.”

“Anymore.” He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Stop.”

“Stop what? Telling the truth?”

“Why do you think I can’t just like you, no strings attached? Can’t it be unconditional? Why do I have a motive?”

“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I just…I don’t know.”

“What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Oh, really?” He opens his eyes. “Lupe, I think I love you. Sometimes. Lately, it’s been all the time. Tell me that doesn’t scare you.” I roll us over again and he smiles a little, moving my hair out of my face.

“I don’t know, I mean, love is a strong word and I-I—maybe you’re just, um—I think it’s just—” I look at him. “It does scare me. A little, maybe. This never happens to me, you know? Guys aren’t exactly lining up to date me,” I explain. “I mean, guys usually only want one thing, like Forrest, for example, and for all I know, you’re just like every other guy, and what if I believe you and you end up breaking my heart? Huh?”

“But I’m not every other guy, and that’s the problem. I mean, most guys would be totally turned off by how vicious you are sometimes and the fact that you can be so mean when you want to be, and by your pill popping and obsession with being perfect, but I don’t care about any of those things, because I think you’re already perfect, see?” I smile a little. “There it is!” He laughs and kisses me, rolling us over. We roll a little too much and end up on the floor.

I can’t help it.

I laugh, looking down at him.

“Are you okay?” I ask between giggles. He gives me half a crooked smile and nods, chuckling quietly.

“I’m cool.”

“We can’t be Forrest and Kalliope. I don’t want to be them, okay?”

“Okay.”

I reach out for his face, leaning in. “You’re so…stupid,” I say quietly, pinching his cheek. “But you’re cute, and I like you, I think. So, I think that maybe we could be something.”

“Something great,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” I agree, kissing him. “Something great.”