Calidity : A Summer Camp Story

9 checkmate

She smiled gratefully at me. "It is an interesting game. I don't know why I lied. It's just-" she thought to find the right words whilst I waited "Chess isn't a particularly cool thing to play. I can't run as fast as the others or swim very well so admitting to actually enjoying Chess feels like I've stuck a 'kick me' sticker on my own back" I nod, imagining Daphne even being in this room feels crazy. 

I watch her eyes light up, as she talks about the game and I wonder why she's sat here by herself. She's a pretty girl in a chess club, so she's practically Miss America. "If you like it so much, why aren't you playing?" 

She sighs, and looks down at the ground "I just feel so awkward. I already know everyone thinks I'm stupid enough, I don't want even these nerds to laugh at me if I just keep losing. I just watch from the sides. It's rather interesting actually"

I smile at her "I believe you're downplaying your talent, Wren. You should play them. Even if you lose again and again you enjoy the game and can always learn something. And if you win, then you're proving rumours wrong and proving yourself wrong too" 

She smiles cheerfully at me, and I feel guilty for disliking this rather sweet girl. I see the dimples in her cheeks fold, and my face burns wondering if Max has noticed them too, I continue "Don't limit yourself just cause of potential mistakes, because you're blocking your own self from potential wins."

I feel quite friendly and am more than happy to work with Wren for the competition."Wren, would you like to join me for that baking competition later today?" I smile. 

She laughs evi]k,8lily, and my smile drops.

"Fuck no, Scar," I feel my face turn pink and my skin prickle at her rejection.

"I can't have people think I'm stupid and can't cook" I bite my tongue, as she stares at me still laughing. 

"Did you not just agree to not give into rumours, Wren? Like 5 seconds ago?"

"It isn't just a rumour that you can't cook Scarlett, you've burnt water" She laughs at her stupid joke, whilst I stare at her thinking her more stupid than ever.

"Maybe you can ask Ratatouille to be your partner," she says standing with a smile.

I can't bite my tongue anymore "The rat was called Remy, Wren. And I don't need your help anyway" 

I watch her take a game with one of the guys, and I bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling as I leave the musty tent. I look at the time and start stressing, there's no way I'm letting everybody get rich from my failure. There's only one last person I can call for help.

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I walk into the mess hall feeling utterly hopeless. I've always been clumsy when it comes to cooking. My sister would always make me sit and watch her to learn but I always ended up distracting her. Each time I felt hungry, I would just cook something frozen and drench it in ketchup.

"Can you cook?" I ask my last-minute partner.

"I can read, so yes" Max replies giving me a look, his eyebrows furrowed as if I've just asked the most stupid question ever. I look at him confused. 

"All you need to do is follow the recipe," he says "It's not much more than that". 

I don't think he gets it. The instructions themselves don't make sense. Recipes, rather than being straightforward guides, often read like cryptic codes, leaving me befuddled. Terms like "fold," "blanch," and "braise" might as well be a foreign language, leaving me second-guessing every move. It's like attempting to solve a riddle when you're unsure if you even understand the question. I try to do it my own way, which is common sense and logic, and then the whole meal falls apart. 

I really wonder why he even agreed to help me. When I'd asked his eyes had widened and softened, like a distant memory flickered across his face then had said yes.

I hadn't questioned it, as I'd been so happy to find a competent person who would actually work with me. But now, as we approached the competition I took a good look at him in his black shirt and grey shorts. 

I tried not to stare at the way the fabric hugged his arms, which were bigger than I'd originally thought. His side profile was beautiful, with a strong pointed nose and pouty lips. I wondered how he was so... pretty. 

I tried to remember his mother, a short woman with thick dark hair and bright eyes. He must have mainly inherited his features from her. 

Sarah Jones was the single mother with the scary child everyone felt pity for. I always wondered whether she secretly agreed with what people said behind her back, if she even knew. The whispers surrounding her were a blend of admiration, speculation, and a touch of envy. The other parents at school events stole glances, their conversations hushed when she entered the room—an outsider to their carefully woven social tapestry. Despite the rumours that floated through the town's gossip channels, there was an undeniable aura of mystery that clung to her. 

He turned to face me, and I quickly dragged my eyes away hoping he would take the redness in my cheeks as sunburn. 

I look around the mess hall to see the other competitors, Lola and one short boy I've never seen before, two pairs of quiet guys, and a few tall girls from other bunks. All in all, we were five pairs of two. 

We got shown to our station, a few tables pushed together to make a workbench with all kinds of ingredients and equipment on it. We were given some old plastic aprons, and I tied Max's for him so he could tie mine. He turned around and I couldn't hold my laugh.

He looked at me in confusion, as I took my phone out to take a picture. I showed it to him, and he looked at me still giggling. A smile tugs at his lips, his eyes crinkling. He just looked so silly, such a tall grown person with a small plastic kid's apron on.

He kissed his teeth, snatched my phone and took a picture of me, snickering at whatever photo he took. I stopped immediately wondering what was so funny and snatched my phone back. I was bent over in the picture, looking like a madman, drowning in the apron.

I punched him in the arm softly, trying not to wince at how hard it was.

We stood at the worktop listening to the rules, no sabotage, no cheating just baking for 2 hours.

Before we began, I showed Max what we should make. I pointed at the cutest pink cupcakes in the handbook they'd given us. He nodded, and I looked at the recipe again. It seemed simple enough but then again even building a nuclear bomb comes with instructions. 

I look at him nervously, shuffling from one foot to another, "I really must warn you-" he looks up, his eyes blue in the strong overhead light making me gulp "I really don't know how to bake,"

He smirks at me "I know, Owens", he looks back at the recipe "But it's never too late to learn."

Then the clock started, and the competition began.