a sister who's actions are untamed,
and a brother who's feelings are untamed.
With complete different personalities, yet an awesome bond, the siblings join a summer camp. She plans to fix her problems, he plans to make friends.
But while she's able...
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"I wanna go home," I say. I try not to make any sounds, even though tears are streaming down my face, but I fail miserably, and my words fade into sobs.
"Woah," Dad's voice on the other side of the phone. "What's going on, honey? Are you sure you want—"
"Yes," I cry out. "Pick me up right now. Please."
I was lucky most kids were still at breakfast when the pictures were spread around, and that Lyndon turned into the Flash as he took them off.
No, that's not exactly what happened. He tried lying about it for a second, but I could hear the voices outside. I know he didn't take them away on his own. A few of our friend group helped.
I'm not sure if that's better or not.
But even with the pictures gone quickly, I'm not returning to this stupid place until I've paid my debts and everyone has forgotten about the pictures.
"Okay. Fine, then. I said I would take you away if you really wanted to," Dad sighs. "I'll come as quickly as I can, alright?"
I nod, even though he can't see it. I think that if I try to speak again, I'll only break into more sobs.
That does end up happening for the next three hours. My thoughts are killing me through all that time, wondering where the others are, who saw the pictures, how I could've been that oblivious...
I told them to leave me alone, but I meant the exact opposite. I want Lyndon or Minho to be here.
Lyndon will obviously listen when I tell him to leave me alone. He can tell when I lie, but he barely ever understands this sort of thing. The "I mean the exact opposite" thing.
But Minho is stubborn, so I figured he'd stay, but I haven't seen him since yesterday, at his house.
When I think enough time has passed, I climb out of my bed and lazily put all my stuff in my suitcase and bags. I don't bother folding it or organizing anything.
My mind feels blank, but also not. The thoughts are making me crazy, though at the same time, I'm not feeling anything at all.
Well, I feel the heaviness of every object I take off the flour and drop in my bags. I feel my hair tickle against my cheeks. The knots and tangled strands must make me look even worse. I feel the soreness of my eyes when I rub them for the thousandth time or blink. I just know they're bloodshot, the complete opposite of the rest of my face. I feel sick.
Slowly, I start making my way to the exit of the camp. I called Dad through the webcam in the Homestead, then returned to hut two for the following hours. I should probably write my friends a note of goodbye, but I don't really feel like dealing with notes right now.
