Impulse Control (ON HOLD)

Chapter 12

When I reach the laundry place, I pay my fee, and throw David's towel in the washer.

As I suspected, it doesn't take long for it to wash and dry, and soon I'm headed back to Sierra's campsite.

It occurs to me as I'm walking down the well-beaten path that this is the happiest I've been in months. I've never felt so carefree, so at home. At first, I thought it was the lake that was making me happy. Now, I wonder if it might be Sierra instead.

I Googled the name Sierra before, and one of the search results got my interested. It said that children named Sierra are often piercing and tolerant. I've seen how tolerant Sierra is with her brother, but something seems off between her mother and her. Her mother acts very proper and fake, almost as if she wants to appear a certain way to everyone. Sierra just doesn't seem that way. I can tell that, deep inside of her, even though I don't think she herself can tell it yet, she longs for something more than what her current life and her mother can give her. She wants something different for herself than what her mother wants for her.

I know you're thinking, When the hell did she become a shrink? Truth is, I'm not, I just know those types of people. I know their deepest emotions even when they themselves don't because I feel the exact same thing every day. A pull to be something different than what's expected of you.

Even our names mean something along those lines. My name, Cleo, means 'glory'. Sometimes I wish for glory, but I believe the only way I'm going to get it is if I get up the courage to tell my parents about me and I find a way to be myself. As for Sierra, her name means 'saw'. Like, maybe she was meant to saw a different path for herself!

I stumble on a root that sticks out of the path, and would've fallen if someone hadn't caught my arm. I pick myself up and turn to thank the person. One look at her, and my breath catches in my throat.

It's a woman about my age, and she's gorgeous. Long, silky black hair flows down to her waist, almost as long as mine. She purses her perfect, red-lipstick-model lips at me and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You have something you wish to tell me?" she purrs softly, with a hint of a foreign accent. "T-t-thank you," I stutter, trying not to let my gaze wander towards her breasts.

Her eyes are hidden by huge, designer-type black sunglasses, and I sense something sinister about her. She may be a beautiful woman, but she's a predator. I know the type. And I know that I have to get away from her as soon as possible.

I turn to go, but the woman catches my arm. When I turn to face her, she whispers softly in my ear, "My name is Sylvia and my campsite is number fifteen. I will be waiting if you decide to give me a try." And with that, she disappears.

***

I head back to the campsite, head still whirling from my encounter with Sylvia. She's not my type. I made that mistake once, and I won't ever again. They're great for one-night stands and breakup anguish. They're not so great for long-term relationships. I've learned to steer clear of women like Sylvia unless I need a dose of distraction after my heart's been broke.

Lost in thought, I almost walk right into Sierra's camper. Once I have my wits about me, I set the towel down on the picnic table's bench and I dash back over to my camper to get my sewing machine and thread.

Once I have them, I settle back down on the bench, taking the towel on my lap. I choose some red thread and I get to work. In, and out. In and out. In. Out. (PLEASE DON'T TAKE THAT DIRTY...)

Before long I've sewed up the first little rip in the towel, and I'm moving on to the next one.

Before an hour is over, I've finished, and the towel looks as good as new.

Carefully folding it, I place it next to the spare towels. Then, packing up my sewing instruments, I head back to my campsite.

As soon as I'm there, I look around. Apparently Sierra's not the only one who had to go and tell family the bad news. All around me, the campsites are practically deserted.

So, grinning deviously, I connect my phone to the camper's stereo speakers, and "In Love With A Straight Girl" is playing loudly.

I smile and begin to sing along.

So you're in love with a straight girl,

I see the problem all the time cause people asking me,

What do I do to change her mind?

Absolutely nothing.

Cause it's probably a waste of time

After time

I see it again

You got a crush you're in love with your straight best friend

So, what can I do to change your ways?

Because a straight girl will come *insert eye wink and realization of dirty pun*

But a straight girl will never stay!

Why, oh why, do you think it's okay

To pursue when you knew she wasn't gay?

Why, oh why, are you coming to me

When there's

Five words to learn

Let the straight girls be.

I smile, laughing at how true Ally Hills' words were. I know from experience that trying to get a straight girl really is a waste of time.

I hear gravel crunching, and Sierra's car pulls into her campsite. I scramble to turn the speakers off.

Sierra gets out of the car, shuts the door, and turns back around. And she stares at her campsite. Her mother and brother get out of the other car, turning to look at the campsite. All of them stand there for a spell, staring in amazement at their perfectly-cleaned-up campsite. Then Sierra begins to walk forward, narrating the previous damage as she makes her way across the gravel.

"And that mat was on top of the camper...And there was trash all over the place...And the towels..." She trails off, catching sight of the note on the table.

She rushes to it, reads it, and begins to smile. She holds it out for her mother to read. Mrs. Burke does so, then says, "Look, whoever did this left us beach towels because ours were ruined! How thoughtful!"

"Look, cookies!" David says, pulling the tinfoil off of the plate. Mrs. Burke shakes her head, bewildered. "And look here," she says, holding up Sierra's brother's towel. "They also left David's towel." Then, after a moment of speculation, Mrs. Burke exclaims, "But who could've known how upset he would get if he had to switch towels?"

Sierra lifts her face to meet my eyes and smiles at me. I smile back, giving her a wink. Sierra says, without taking her eyes from my face, "I know exactly who."