Lucid June

Chapter Five - What Else, He Can Build A House From Scratch?

Indie tilts her head in confusion. "I don't get it." 

"Exactly why you'll learn about it when you're older. Now, skedaddle back to the rest of the group and find the rest of those symbols. You want the prize, don't you?"

"Yeah!" She squeals. 

"Then run right on." He shoos her, and with the poke of her tongue, she runs back over to her own group amongst everyone. "Kids, they always ask the most out-of-the-blue fucking questions." 

I nod. 'Yep.'

"Are you single, Maggie?" Derek then asks. 

I flush, swallowing as I tuck my hair behind both ears. 'Yes. Single as a Pringle.'

"What's the last part?" He questions. 

You know, for once I'm glad he doesn't know sign language. Single as a Pringle, Margaret? Honestly, what are you on? 

'Nothing,' I shake my head frantically, brushing it off. 'Nothing at all.'

His eyes shine with amusement, but he doesn't push. "Well, for your knowledge, I don't have a girlfriend," he states as he turns to walk backwards in front of me with a wry grin. "I'll leave you for a sec', going to check on the groups." He adds with a wink, before walking off casually. 

It isn't only my cheeks that fume fire, my stomach, my fingertips, along with the skin underneath my bitten nails. He's naturally flirty, he's naturally coy, but is he this natural or does this mean something more?

The winks, the grins, the little glances, and flirty comments, am I reading into this too much? I wonder, am I even just making this all up because of my painful crush on him?

No one notices me. I've never had any attention from guys. No looks, no crushes, no talking stages, and don't even get me started on physical touch - that desert doesn't even exist. 

I'm the friend who you couldn't even imagine being with a guy, look, I can't even imagine myself with one. When I fantasise about a dream guy or my fictional crushes, I don't even think it's me in the scenario of my own head. 

It's this version of me. This version who is confident, charming, sweet, and gets all this attention anywhere she goes. But the good attention, the lustful attention, the attention that comes with a smile not a ten-yard stare at my murdered neck. 

This is unnatural to me. In a good way, but also it's frightening. 

Not a lightening frightening, a rollercoaster frightening. 

"Mags, come check our sheet!" A group of girls wave me over excitedly, one rushing up and tugging my hand when I'm not quick enough. 

"Did we win?" One asks as she stuffs their paper in my hands. 

I take the crumpled, slightly dirt ridden paper, checking over their answered puzzles and questions. And with a smile, I nod, earning a round of loud squeals as they all jump excitedly amongst each other. 

"We have a winner, do we?" Derek wanders over, the goosebumps on my neck squealing like the group of girls. 

"What's the prize?! What's the prize?!" They ask rapidly. 

"You'll have to wait and see." He tells them, all of them groaning. "Come on, let's get back to camp so you can find out your prize and move onto your next activities." 

As our group of kids stampede back to camp, Derek and I fall into step and walk in calm silence - a calm silence that is inherently making me fidget from flusteredness.