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2 Estelle

When my mother told me I was going to a summer camp, I didn't expect much. After all, my parents like to provide me with the most mediocre things when it comes to anything other than physical training and education. They're not exactly big on spoiling me, so if I'd gotten a wooden shack for a dormitory, I couldn't  say I'd have been surprised.

However, the camp that stands before me is like nothing I'd ever seen. It's a multitude of swirling colours to the eye. Bright, eager voices can be heard excitedly rambling about the camp. I suck my lip and try to seamlessly blend in with the crowd, pulling my luggage behind me to the receptionist.

'Excuse me, I'm staying in Room 714,' I smile brightly and slide my room card over the mahogany desk.

The receptionist looks at it dubiously and turns it over, examining it under cat-eye glasses. 'To the left, then turn straight,' she says snappishly, then beckons the next person to come forth to get directed to their dormitory.

Gathering my luggage, I trudge in the direction that she points out to me and try to look like I actually like it here. It's hard to. The bright sun is bearing down on me and sweat is trickling down the back of my neck unpleasantly.

'Need some help with that?' a voice behind me says. I turn to see a boy my age offering a hand. He has the white-blondest hair I've ever seen, ruffled and shining like gold strands in the sunlight. It's blinding my eyes and I keep them to the ground.

'Thanks, but no thanks,' I respond, trying to keep my tone nice and pleasant, when really all I want for him to do is shove off.

Apparently though, I'm a little too good at it. All he does in response is bounce energetically on the balls of his feet and continue to walk alongside me as I walk to my cabin. 'Whatever you say,' he shrugs. 'Honestly, I'm not really good at starting conversations,' he begins, 'but all my parents want is for me to make proper friends here at camp.'

'And you thought I'd be a likely candidate?' I can't help but shoot back, my voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

He blinks as if he's surprised. 'Was that sarcasm? I'm sorry if I was coming off a little too strong... I've only ever been homeschooled.'

Ugh. He's making me feel bad for him now, and I don't usually like to feel as for people. Is he lying? Possibly guilt-tripping me?

I shake the thoughts out of my head. That's ridiculous, Estelle, I tell myself. He's just a kid my age. I doubt he even knows how to guilt-trip someone. However, I can never be too careful. In my family, I've grown up in a household of secrets and lies- which means I'm an expert liar and storyteller.

'So,' I say after a moment of awkward silence, 'you've never been around other kids your age?'

'Nope,' he says cheerfully. It's the truth, but he seems annoyed about it. He looks down at the floor briefly and clenches his hands together. Yes, he's definitely annoyed, possibly even angry- but I don't think his feelings are directed at me. It might be his parents, for never letting him interact with other kids- oh, what am I doing? This was supposed to be a relaxing camping experience (translate that as my parents wanted to get rid of their 'disappointing failure' for the summer) but I'm overthinking someone else's personal problems.

'Oh,' I say. 'You know, not having friends has really saved you a lot of trouble,' I add. I'm not sure why I'm continuing this conversation. This boy obviously isn't the best conversationalist, and since I've studied social standings and friendship studies (yes, it's a thing) I can befriend almost anyone. I have my pick of the whole camp.

'I'd rather take the trouble and have friends than the other way around,' he says flatly. I seem to have struck a nerve. According to my studies, I should stop and change the subject, but I don't. It's fun riling people up.