Family + Camp (working title)

Chapter 35 Part 1: Weekend Plans

A boy stood in the middle of the room, covering himself in surprise with his arms, knocking his knees together. He was fully clothed.

Timber stopped the pose and chuckled. "What's up, my bitches," he said, then went over to his bed next to the window and flopped down on it. He was a boy with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, some of it escaping to frame his face. He wasn't that tall, and his baggy, striped t-shirt could be hiding a belly. Or not. It was hard to tell. Like Cash, he was one of the naturalists.

Nell stepped over the threshold and looked around. It was a room. With two camp beds, which were made up with sleeping bags. Someone had hung up a drawing of Jimi Hendrix that was actually really good.

"I did that," Timber said, when he saw Nell studying it.

"Shut up, Timber," Cash said. "I did."

"He did," Timber agreed. "I was lying before. I don't know why I said that. It's good, right? And that's why he's in arts and crafts and I'm not. Because I suck at art. I'm like, you know, stick figures? I can't even draw those."

Nell let him go on before holding up a hand and saying, "Hush, now."

"Got it," Timber said, still prone. "Hushing."

Nell glanced at Cash's bed, which was in the back corner of the room. He'd covered the mattress with a plain, navy blue sheet. On top was his sleeping bag, the color of burnt orange mainly, and some tomato red accents. She noticed a pillow, also navy blue. Cash had affixed a green bandana to a small lamp that was clamped to his metal bedstead. It was like a makeshift nightshade, and gave a pleasant glow when he turned it on.

Timber raised his hand. Nell nodded her permission.

"By the end of this summer, Cash is going to have these walls covered in drawings. No, really! He is that good."

"I believe you," said Nell. "This time."

Timber grimaced. "You are hella scary, girl."

She shrugged, but felt pleased.

"Have a seat," Cash said, gesturing to a desk chair near Timber's bed. There was one other chair by the door, and Cash took it.

"So, princess," Timber said.

"Do not call me that," Nell said, teeth gritted.

"So, Nell," Timber amended. "How are you liking Camp Morgan so far? Bet it doesn't suck the way your old camp did."

Nell scowled. "My old camp didn't suck. Maybe this camp sucks."

Timber sat up. "Maybe it does. But watch out who you say that to."

"I'm saying it to you," she said. Then looked over at Cash. "And you."

He nodded as if grateful for the acknowledgment.

"But I'm not saying it does suck. I said, maybe it does. There is a huge difference there don't you agree?"

"I mean, like...." Timber looked up at the left corner of the ceiling. "I mean, just, you know, just be careful. Even like, implying Morgan might suck could make you enemies. People only hear little bits of what other people say. Do you know what I mean?"

Nell nodded. "That is very thoughtful of you, Timber. Very astute."

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Timber is a minor character, but I really like him. He's not based on any person in particular. He might grow to be important. Who know?  I also like Jimi Hendrix.