Nail Biter

5

It wasn’t that David’s plan didn’t work, it’s just that it made things awkward. Not in the way Gwen usually found herself being awkward, but in the sense that she wasn’t as good at using her hands while they were bandaged. It could be difficult doing activities that required a steady hand, or even just holding anything smaller than a bottle cap. It was about five minutes into cross stitching camp that Gwen had knocked their entire collection of thread off of the picnic table. David somehow remained convinced that it was an accident.

As frustrating as it was being unable to turn pages properly, Gwen still puts up with it. Well, actually, she didn’t put up with it, to begin with. She may or may not have snapped at David about not being able to read or use a tablet without dropping either one and he responded by turning the pages of her book for her. Definitely a strange offer, but a kind one. It was nice to just be able to sit with David sometimes, even if they weren’t really doing anything.

Correction; it was nice until Wednesday rolled around and Gwen fell asleep on David’s shoulder while she was reading. To her defence, it wasn’t her fault that she had been up late last night because Max had been wreaking havoc on the camp. Then again, it wasn’t really David’s fault either. It was mostly Cameron’s fault for snatching Max's coffee maker in the first place, which sent Max on his spite-fueled rage trip in the first place. Gwen would never bring that up with David, though. He looked up to Cameron and despite how much she hated the man, she didn't want to upset David by sharing that with him. It was their fault that Max even had the coffee maker, to begin with, after all. David didn’t care that theirs had gone missing and Gwen just dug around the camp for money to get another one.

It was kind of Gwen's fault that David ended up dropping her when she fell asleep, though. That also means it was her fault that Max knew she fell asleep on her co-worker's shoulder, which was just what she needed; more ridicule from a snotty ten-year-old. There was no way he wouldn't have noticed her falling backwards and hitting her head on the ground while David tried and failed to catch her.

David had apologized for dropping her several hundred times by the time the day was over, and each time Gwen had insisted that it was her fault and that he had nothing to be sorry for. When she touched his shoulder, they both froze for a moment. Gwen didn’t wish him goodnight before retreating into her cabin, but that both was and wasn’t her fault. Her mouth had stopped working, anyways, but that was because when she had tried to comfort David, they both froze up. That may have been partially David’s fault, too.

So whose fault was it if Gwen couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about seeing David the next day? Of course, it was mostly her fault, that much was obvious, but she couldn’t help but feel like David could take some of the blame, too. It was his fault she thought fondly of him because he acted in such a way that would convince anybody that he was fond of her as well. It was his fault that every morning he felt the need to hold her hands and help her care for them.

He seemed to know exactly what to do in every circumstance regarding her hands. If they were hurting, he could tell her exactly why. Then he would cut the ends short again and put some kind of antibiotic on it or just tell her that she was doing great and that her nails were growing back wonderfully. Looking at her hands whenever they weren’t under bandages, she agreed with him. Not exactly the doing a good job part, but the healing part was obvious.

She didn’t believe she was doing a good job because whenever she was stressed, she would brush her lip against the bandages on her hand before immediately dropping her hand again and instead of tapping her hand on a table or something equally repetitive like that. Gwen desperately hoped that it wouldn’t develop into another habit that she would need to deal with. Nail-biting was enough.

It was probably during Thursday’s art camp that they reached that weeks ‘peak of chaos.’ Gwen tended to dread that time. Each week there would be a specific event that would be the highest point of complete anarchy and half the time it happened on Fridays. It just so happened that this particular peak happened on Thursday when Harrison handcuffed David and Gwen together as part of a magic trick and then couldn’t unlock them.

This then leads to Space Kid, Harrison, Dolph, and Nikki trying to break them apart while the rest of the kids trashed the camp. Granted, Nikki was only trying to find the most destructive way to break the handcuffs, but it did sort of count for something. She didn’t actually want to help, she just wanted to see David panic as she chased people around with old firecrackers and a lighter. It was Gwen who eventually ended up confiscating both of them, but being tied to David, she was immediately pulled in the exact opposite direction because Space Kid had filled his helmet with paint and David had forgotten that they were still in handcuffs.

By the time that Harrison found where he had left behind his key to unlock them, several campers were preparing to set the mess hall on fire under the logic that if they had no mess hall, the Quartermaster wouldn’t be able to make them food and they would need to order pizza every day. Max was the one who started the rumour on purpose to see what would happen. Well, he got his answer. He also got his dessert privileges revoked for what had to be the third time that week.

That also meant that it was Gwen’s fault when the first aid kit went missing for a day only to reappear on her desk later with all of the bandages missing. Max proudly confessed to having thrown them all in the lake that morning as revenge for the days he went without pudding after dinner. Gwen insisted that he went three additional days with no dessert for being “a pint-sized thorn in the ass” to which David sent her aside to calm down.

That night, Gwen slept without bandages on her hands. Her nails were still short, but the ends were no longer as jagged as they had been. Her cuticles were shorter than they were at the beginning of the week, though barely. The beds of Gwen’s nails may have been pushed back, or at least that's something David had told her could happen.

It was Gwen’s fault for making that connection and bringing her thoughts back to focus on David. She could have just left her hands alone. She could have just tucked them under her sheets and slept like the usually did, but everything always looped back to being about David. The sensation of her nail brushing her lower lip brought Gwen’s attention back to her fingers.

She stared at them for a moment before throwing her blanket tight over her shoulders, hugging her hands to her chest. She burned with frustration with herself and simultaneous admiration for her co-worker. They pooled together, leaving her heavy and sinking into her bed as she curled up under the scratchy blankets.