I was right about one thing: Lizzie was so grateful for the alone time with Zack. Well, "alone time" surrounded by the twenty other campers who were learning origami with them. She talked my ear off about it the minute we were alone, gushing about how they finally had a real conversation that lasted more than thirty seconds and wasn't about the prank war.
It almost makes me feel bad that I don't ditch them when we go canoeing the next day after our workshops. The two of them sit across from me, which is great since it not only means they'll be brushing shoulders the whole time, but that I'm in the perfect position for getting some candid shots of the two of them.
After Ethan's picture turned out so great yesterday, I figured I may as well try my hand at some more portraits. And over the next hour, I'm really glad I listened to his advice-- it feels really good to finally be having fun with photography again.
Like he said, I'm a lot easier on myself since it's an area I'm unfamiliar with, and I'm enjoying finding my way around the subject of people as opposed to nature. It's tricky, especially since I like candid pictures-- it isn't the easiest thing to catch people off guard when you're raising a big camera in their direction. Lizzie and Zack catch me in the act more than a few times, and my SD card is littered with a mix of genuine candids and pictures of them posing goofily at the last second.
I'm looking through them the next day after breakfast while I'm waiting outside of the painting building, trying to distract myself from the nerves I have about meeting with Ethan. I scroll through them, amused at how often I managed to catch Zack sneaking glances at Lizzie. If I show her the evidence, maybe she'll finally realize he's head over heels for her.
As I contemplate the morality of exposing Zack's unadmitted crush, Ethan walks over from the mess hall with a smile on his face. I return it, watching as he brushes flour from his jeans, no doubt from the pancakes served this morning-- which were delicious, by the way.
"Morning," he greets, pointing to my camera. "Any luck?"
"Your advice was... pretty awesome," I say, immediately wanting to facepalm at the word choice. Pretty awesome? How eloquent. I need to start taking pointers from Zack-- yesterday at lunch, he dreamily described Lizzie's outfit as "strikingly psychedelic." Leave it to the poet to come up with such a bold compliment-- of course, he said it to me when Lizzie got up to throw away her trash, but his shyness doesn't take away from the word choice.
If Ethan minds my bumbling, he doesn't show it. He grins, face lighting up. "Really? It helped?"
I nod. "Portraits are a lot of fun-- I should've given 'em a chance a long time ago."
"And now, you'll know what it's like to be the subject of a portrait," he says, opening the door of the building and motioning for me to go in first. "Might give you some helpful insight."
We head inside and he leads me over to one of the large tables, which are surrounded by wooden stools. I sort of just stand there for a minute while Ethan wheels an easel over, disappears into a closet for a few seconds, and comes back out with a canvas that's larger than I anticipated. He looks over as he's locking it in place on the easel.
"You don't look very excited," he says with the hint of a laugh.
"It's not that! I just... " I sit on one of the stools, trying not to look so tense. "I've never had anyone paint me before. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do."
"All you have to do is sit. I'm the one who should be nervous-- I have to worry you might not like it."
I remove my camera from around my neck and set it on the table beside me, watching as he sets everything up. He's somewhat of a scattered worker, humming a song to himself and going back and forth around the room to gather the supplies he needs.
After a minute he stops behind the easel, clasping his hands together and smiling at me. He instructs me to look over at the window behind him and slightly to the right, putting me at a three-quarter view. This means I won't have to look at him while he works, which will probably help with my nerves.
"Don't worry too much about staying still," he says, and I already hear the sound of a pencil against the canvas. "I'll let you know if I need you to move at all."
"Okay," I say, watching as a few campers stroll by outside.
"So," he starts. I can see him sketching out of the corner of my eye. "Can I ask about the prank war? Or is it top secret?"
Speaking of which, there hasn't been any retaliation yet. You'd think I'd be relieved, but I think both me and Lizzie have been on edge, just waiting for Rita and Mei to get revenge. Chances are, the longer it takes them to execute, the more extreme it's bound to be. Zack's lucky-- no one except Ethan knows he helped us, which means he doesn't have to worry about getting messed with.
"Well, normally I'd say it's top secret. But given that you already know pretty much everything about it... ask away."
"What made you guys decide to put the bag in Shaefer's room? It was pretty gutsy. Personally, I was under the impression that the guy never even sleeps, but I guess you proved me wrong."
I laugh, risking a glance over at him. "Well... as much as I'd like to take credit for the bravery... it was sort of an accident. We thought it was someone else's cabin."
He raises his eyebrows, pencil pausing. "Really? Whose?"
I look back to the window, my face flushing. "Yours."
Honestly, I'm happy I'm getting the chance to come clean-- it'd feel weird to keep it from him.
He lets out a laugh of disbelief. "Mine? You meant to put a bag of Rita's underwear in my cabin?" His tone is filled with confused amusement as he continues his work.
"I don't know if it should be so surprising-- you were sort of the obvious choice."
"Why's that?"
I look over, arching an eyebrow, silently asking if he's really that oblivious. He sighs, looking resigned.
"Okay, yeah, I get it. Rita's got... a thing for me."
I have to force myself not to smile at how unenthusiastically he says it. "Exactly. We wanted to embarrass her as much as possible." I hadn't thought about it much before, but in a way, we'd been planning to prank Ethan, too. "I'm sorry we almost brought you into it."
I catch him raise a shoulder in my peripheral vision. "Lucky for you I've got a sense of humor-- and I like you, which means you can get away with almost making me a part of your little scheme."
I hope beyond hope that my face isn't as red as it feels after he says the words "I like you." It's a friendly thing to say! I tell myself. He's just being friendly-- staring at your face, painting your picture, possibly maybe flirting with you... friendlyfriendlyfriendly.
"Not to pry, but you don't seem too thrilled about Rita's interest in you," I change the subject.
He lets out a heavy breath, and I look over to see him cringing slightly, seeming to struggle with what to say. The pencil in his hand has already been replaced by a paintbrush-- he works fast. "She's... how do I put it..."
"Insufferable?" I suggest. He meets my eyes, biting back a grin as I continue. "Evil? God's meanest creation?"
He halfheartedly disguises a laugh with a cough, focusing on his canvas with a smile on his face. "Let's just say she's got a lot of growing up to do."
"I commend you for figuring out a way to put it politely," I joke, watching as the trees rustle gently in the breeze outside. Sounds of laughter and chatter trail in from one of the open windows, as does the summer warmth.
"I think everyone knows she's stuck in some sort of... mean girl mindset."
I nod, knowing he's right. Everyone seems to be aware of Rita's cruelty, but as long as she's popular, I doubt she minds if it's for all the wrong reasons. Plus, not everyone knows just how mean Rita really is. And until it effects them directly, I don't think most people will care.
"To me, it's almost like she's playing a character," he continues. "Like she's acting the way she's seen in movies or on TV, the way she thinks someone like her is supposed to act."
By someone like her, I'm guessing he means popular, rich, and beautiful. He's right, it's definitely the trifecta of what makes a classic queen bee on the big screen, and usually, they are as mean spirited as Rita. It's like she's taken all the high school movies as an instruction booklet rather than a warning.
"Long story short, I know she likes me-- she doesn't exactly try to hide it. But even though she's not the nicest person in the world... I don't like hurting people's feelings. Hopefully one day she'll get the hint that I'm not interested, without me having to tell her."
I nod, silently commending Ethan for his morals. If I had a power that strong over someone like Rita, I wouldn't hesitate to use it and knock them down a few pegs.
"But anyway," he says, voice becoming less strained as he switches the topic, "I didn't ask to paint you so we could spend time talking about Rita."
"Why did you ask to paint me?" I ask. My heart seems to stop after I ask the question, waiting for an answer. What do I even want him to say?
"Well, for one thing, I figured I deserved something for keeping my mouth shut about two of your pranks. And painting you gives us the chance to get to know each other."
"That's what you're taking as payment for not ratting me out? Getting to know me?" I can't help but feel like he's letting us off the hook pretty easy. Not for the first time, I'm grateful it was Ethan who caught us. "That doesn't seem like much in return for not letting Shaefer behead us."
He laughs, but his voice is serious as he replies. "You seem like someone worth knowing. I don't know many people who would go through so much trouble to stand up for someone they just met. I was impressed with what you did for Lizzie-- I am impressed."
Okay, so that's definitely one of the sweetest compliments I've ever gotten. I silently order the butterflies in my stomach to chill, reminding them that we don't exactly deserve the praise.
"I don't know if I'd describe it that righteously-- I mean, I had beef with Rita, too," I remind him. "And I even took the opportunity to get back at Mei."
"I know. But if you hadn't met Lizzie, and you hadn't learned about what happened to her... do you think you'd have done what you did?"
I think it over-- if Rita hadn't confessed to being behind Lizzie's incident, I probably wouldn't have had such an urge to get back at her and Mei. I'd have just tried my best to ignore them all summer. I would've sourly remembered what they did to me every time I saw them in the mess hall or out by the lake, but I wouldn't have done anything-- revenge had never seriously crossed my mind before.
"I guess you're right," I admit. "I wouldn't have."
It's a weird thing to admit, especially since I came here specifically planning to not care about anyone. There are a few minutes of comfortable silence as he works, and I use the time to try to convince myself that by sticking up for Lizzie, I'm just doing what's right-- it doesn't have to be anything more than that.
"So, you took my advice on art and it worked out. What about my advice on friendship?"
Okay, what is he, a mind reader?
He has a point, though, and I have been thinking about what he said at the beach. I mean, Lizzie's great, and I can even see myself getting closer to Zack, too. But the thing is, when I go back home in four weeks, I get to take my camera with me, not them. Their potential impermanence in my life makes the advice a lot more complicated. Zack goes to a nearby high school, but Lizzie lives in the next county over. Ethan's probably heading to college soon, not that I have any clue if he's even interested in being friends.
I wasn't even able to keep a friendship with Mei, who I saw every day. If I do let my guard down and let myself commit to friendship... can I really expect it to last?
"I've been thinking about it," I confess, not sure what else to say. I really haven't come to any type of conclusion. "But I guess I need to think about it more. For now, I'm just trying to have fun and survive whatever Rita and Mei throw at us next."
He nods, looking thoughtful. "I'm just glad you're thinking about it at all."
A few other campers come in, chatting and heading over to one of the tables on the other side of the room. It's obvious they're planning to stay for a while and work on their own projects, which means Ethan and I should probably nix Rita and the prank war from our list of conversation topics. If the wrong person hears about it, it could be the end of my time at camp.
Thankfully, I learn that Ethan isn't at a shortage of things to talk about. He tells me more about himself over the next forty-five minutes, and I learn that he is planning to go to art school in the fall. I tell him about my plans for senior year, and we joke about everything from his old school's mascot (a naked mole-rat, of all things) to the way Ms. Rodriguez always manages to make announcements with exactly the same inflection.
Eventually, the phone that Ethan set on the table next to my camera lights up, emitting an upbeat melody. He walks over, wiping his hands on a spare rag before tapping the screen and stopping the music with a sigh.
"Well, that's my cue. I gotta go start helping with lunch," he says, tucking the phone in his pocket as he heads back to the easel.
"Already?" I say, checking the time. "It feels like we just had breakfast."
He grins in a way that tells me he knows the feeling. "Yeah, already. It's a big job, getting food ready for two hundred campers and fifty-three staff members."
I hop off my stool as Ethan grabs a nearby piece of cloth, draping it over the easel so that it doesn't touch the painting it's covering. "What, I don't get to see?"
He shakes his head so fast you'd think I asked if he wanted to go hang out with Rita for the rest of the day. "No way! Not until it's finished. I'll keep working on it when I have the time, but until I finish, no peeking."
I pout my lips, playfully huffing and folding my arms across my chest. "Fiiiine."
Ethan chuckles, wheeling the easel safely over to an empty corner of the room. He opens a drawer of one of the many cabinets in the room and takes out a sheet of paper, scrawling his name on it. Then he leans over, takes some tape from a dispenser on the counter, and tapes the paper to the exposed wood, marking his territory.
He turns back to me, drumming his fingers on the table next to my camera. "I'd better get to the kitchen."
I nod, placing the camera strap back around my neck. I guess I'll go third-wheel Lizzie and Zack, who said they'd be in the crafts room playing board games. I'm sure Lizzie's more than ready to bombard me with questions about my time with Ethan.
"What's on the menu today?" I ask him as the two of us head outside.
He pretends to zip his lips, shaking his head in resignation. "I'm sworn to secrecy."
I laugh, fanning myself as I try to adjust to the outdoor heat. "Fair enough. I like to be surprised, anyway."
He smiles, backing in the direction of the mess hall. "I'll see you later-- and I'll let you know as soon as I finish the painting. I'm serious, though," he points a playful finger at me, "No peeking."
I cross my heart, rolling my eyes. "No peeking, I promise."
He grins, giving a final nod before turning and jogging over to the cafeteria. I hope he isn't late because of me, but I can't say I'd want to take back a single second of the morning.
"Ethan!" I raise my camera as I call out for him and snap a picture just as he turns back to look at me. He tilts his head in an amused look that says, Really?
I just shrug and give an innocent smile, laughing as he heads inside the building.
Do you think Ethan was flirting? 😛