The Player Next Door ✓

04 | My Fruit Loops

If I didn't burst out loud when I saw this poster, I'd be lying. Thank you @nikibookgram

Chapter 04 | My Fruit Loops

"Settle down, everyone! I can see you're ready to rock and rolllllllll!" Mr Woodhouse yelled into the microphone. He was casually transforming into Elvis Presley.

We were in an open-air theater for our first all-counselor meeting. It may sound fancy, but it's just a few benches around a wooden stage. Mr Woodhouse wanted to make introductions and run us through our duties for the summer.

I sat by myself in one of the rows. People had filled all the other benches except for mine, like I was a virus or something.

I recognized a lot of the counselors from last year but, unfortunately, no one seemed to remember me. I watched how they chatted with each other, catching up on life. It made me wish I had someone to talk to, but I suppose it's ok if I don't really know what I'm missing. You can't miss what you never had. Right?

Luke and I separated on our way over here. He got stopped by a group of girls and I didn't wait to hear how they'd inflate his ego even more.

Mr Woodhouse continued, "I know you're a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers ready for me to get off the stage, but there are some responsibilities this summer. We're going to lay down the ground rules and-"

Luke walked into the theater in the middle of Mr Woodhouse's intro. Every head turned to him. Whispers escalated up the rows like a tidal wave, until gossip exploded amongst the crowd. His name was popping up in conversations all around the theater and some people took photos of him.

He hadn't expected that reaction.

"Luke Dawson!" Mr Woodhouse announced into the microphone, pivoting from Elvis impersonator to game show host, "Welcome to the wonderfully warm Camp Beaver family! With you here, everyone can see this is the place to be!"

OK. Luke has already become a camp marketing tool. I guess I'm not surprised. His face is probably on the front of next year's brochure.

"Why don't you have a seat, Luke?" Mr Woodhouse said, "Who's your partner again?"

"It's uh..."

Did he seriously not remember my name? His eyes locked on me.

"Millie," I mouthed.

"It's Minnie," he repeated louder.

Millie, you ass.

"Wonderful. We're all about dream teams, here. Our famous Counselor Cup is a prize awarded to the best counselor duo at the end of the summer. Anyway, Tamara why don't you kick us off with the logistics?"

Tamara, the resident summer camp beauty queen, stood up to address the counselors. She was Mr Woodhouse's niece and happened to be a runway model. I think she was going to college at Miami Dade in the fall. Last summer, every guy here wanted to hook up with her.

Luke sat down next to me. He had a lot of space to settle down in, since my row was empty. I tried to ignore the stares that were coming our way. 

"Are you saving these seats?" he asked, wondering why the bench was so empty.

"No." 

I let the silence hang out.  I didn't need to admit to Luke Dawson that I don't have friends.

People were still staring at him. I felt awkward being so close to so much attention. I snuck a glance at Luke. He seemed used to it.

Hot boy problems.