Turmoil

Soldiers in Pink

Lorraine

The fire is cackling in front of us. Who knew that roasted marshmallows impaled on sticks could be so tasty? I'm almost glad, that Elsie choose Camp Turmoil. Almost glad, does not mean that she's forgiven though, not by a long shot. I'm still stuck here for another few weeks, with a group of strangers that are slightly ... erratic.

After the whole circus act that has happened with Atlanta, we have become legends of sorts. Tim keeps getting clapped on the back by random dudes for his quick thinking, and Phoenix's reputation among the ladies, and Atlanta's among the men have spiked.

I actually think Tim is getting annoyed by all the thumping. I caught him sending glares with enough venom to poison an elephant at the retrieving backs of people who had come by to congratulate him. I'm guessing the whole - don't be noticed policy isn't working out, when you're a hero of sorts.

I wish he'd realize that he deserves all the congratulations. He did save a girls life, even if that girl made it very difficult for him to be save her. However, as the evening progresses, he disappears off to somewhere. He's like a shadow, you never know where he is, until the sun appears. I don't understand why he finds attention so unwelcome. If I got half as many glances tossed my way during the evening as he did, I would be estatic. 

Yet when somebody tries to locate him, he's gone.

Phoenix, he's the one that's really bathing in the fame. Whenever I turn, I find him surrounded by a swarm of girls, all clinging dreamily to his arm, begging him to tell the story again. Phoenix goes slightly pink and  then very politely he plucks the leech girls off him. I catch his gaze once, and a slightly tortured expresson flickers across his face, but when I blink the torment on his face evaporates. I'm almost certain that I imagined it.

As soon as the points are sorted , Atlanta's foolish bravery and persistence putting us in the lead, and dinner is handed out, I take it upon myself to get Atlanta acquainted with the group of my friends that have arrived here with me, more for their case than hers. I know, know that they will complain none stop and my ear will drop off if I don't introduce them to her.

Finding them isn't hard. They are lured in by Atlanta's charm, as if she is the Pied Piper, and they are the rats. They pop up as soon as we sit down together, a bag of marshmallows between us, a stick in each hand.

"Lorraine !" Elsie cries, I move to rise and she tosses her arms around me. Around Elsie, I feel like a giant. She's tiny, and skinny, although she lacks the curves that Atlanta possesses and the grace that the latter carries herself with.

Still, even staring at Elsie's flat stomach, peeking out beneath her shirt, makes me self conscious. Carefully, I pull down the hem of my own shirt, making sure that it stays put, and no skin is revealed. Nobody notices, as Elsie is already turning her curious gaze to my companion.

"We heard about the whole swamp thing, " Abigail chips in, squeezing my upper arms, something that's meant to be a comforting gesture but I'm sure will leave bruises on my arms and then, directing her words at Atlanta says " you're really stupid to be so reckless, "

"Abbi, " Lizzie squeaks and lets out a big guffaw of a laugh, so loud that it's almost uncomfortable. I look helplessly at Atlanta, trying to convey my embarrassment through my eyes. Sometimes, all three of them really could act half wild.

"It's okay, " Atlanta says, and I'm not sure if she's got the message imprinted in my eyes and is reassuring me or Lizzie " she's right. It really was a thing only a person that's slightly incompetent would do, "

"Still, you're sooo brave, " Elsie cooes, and stuffs her marshmallow into her mouth " I'd never leave the path, "

I look on in envy as she shoves in another three her cheeks puffing out like a rabbits. With the amount of food Elsie eats, she should be the size of a house. If I ate that much food, I certainly would be.

The three of them, manage to wriggle in between me and Atlanta, shoving me to the side to make room. I guess no introduction is neccessary, when you're as undelicate as Elsie, Abigail and Lizzie tend to be. They pelt Atlanta with questions, and quickly, I get forgotten about, despite the fact, that they're supposed to be my friends. I just push one marshmallow onto the stick after the other while they talk, until I've got a whole row of pink fluffy clouds perforated and secure on the piece of wood.

Atlanta shines in the conversations. She always finds the right and wittiest thing to say, at just the right moment, understands how to make the people laugh. I don't.

My stories, they're never as vividly told as hers, they never evoke so much laughter, no matter how ridiculous. I don't try to add to her tale, when she's recalling the swamp incident for them. There's no point. They'd only talk over me anyway. I sit, quiet at the end of the log that serves for a bench. They don't notice.

Sometimes, I imagine what my life would be like if I lived in one of Jane Austens novels. I'd wear elegant gowns of silk and dashing gentlemen would ask me to be their partner in one of the dances, and my mother would try desperately to get me a husband, while all of my friends would sigh at the beauty of my male companions. Maybe in a world where politeness was required, I could be something more than a cloud of a girl.

In my own world most of the time, I'm invisible.

The fire flickers in front of me, great tongues of flame, licking up the logs, a beast devouring it's dinner. I stick my line of  marshmallows into it's hungry mouth, puffy soldiers in pink uniforms and wait for them to catch fire. When they do, I leave them there, watching. Watching as the blaze turns them black, and then continues on up my stick.

I don't feel like eating anyway.

Authors Note:

Hey, how you guys doing ? Anyone planning on going camping any time soon, exploring the great out doors? Tell me what you think of this chapter, do you sympathise with Lorraine, do you get what she's feeling or not really?

Love chu