The Art of Being Alone (Together)

15 | Give Up and Grow Up

It's blazing hot the next day, and no one is too happy about the sudden, mandatory assembly that Ms. Rodriguez announces during breakfast. I don't have to struggle to guess what the topic of discussion will be.

Sure enough, once all two hundred and fifty-three members of Camp Create It (a number I now know thanks to Ethan) are gathered on the bleachers under the hot sun, Ms. Rodriguez steps onto the outdoor stage. Her expression is a lot different than it was the last time she was up there on the first day of camp. She looks pissed, to put it simply.

Lizzie sends me a nervous glance. Next to her, Zack watches the stage attentively as the crowd around us quiets down. He woke up late and barely even made it to breakfast, meaning we haven't had a chance to tell him what went on last night. I'm guessing when we do, Lizzie will probably want to leave out the detail about the note being from him.

Last night, while I waited for her to change into her pajamas in the bathroom, she confessed how stupid she felt for thinking the letter was from Zack. I think her exact words were, "I can't believe I actually let myself think he'd like me."

This morning she was back to her usual exuberant self, but there have been moments between conversation where I've caught her with slumped shoulders and a distant look in her eyes. She's hiding it pretty well, but I can tell she's still disappointed about how everything turned out.

To say that I'm mad at Rita would be the world's biggest understatement. Framing Lizzie would have been bad enough, but bringing her feelings into it is a new low. I guess I really shouldn't be surprised, though. If anyone's willing to stoop to that level, it's Rita.

Ms. Rodriguez stands behind the microphone with her hands clasped in front of her. Her back is ridged as her eyes scan the crowd, as if daring us all to keep talking-- we don't. The crowd falls into a quick silence, seeming to sense that something is off.

I have to wonder if some campers already know about the dock. It's unlikely that any campers caught a glimpse of it this morning since everyone tends to head straight to breakfast. But if there's one thing I've learned about camp, it's that the counselor's gossip gets around to the campers pretty fast.

Ms. Rodriguez clears her throat before starting in the most serious tone I've heard from her yet. "Some of you may already know what this assembly is about. For those who aren't, I'm disappointed to inform you that last night after curfew, someone vandalized the dock."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Some students crane their necks towards the lake in an attempt to see the dock. Zack looks between me and Lizzie with wide eyes, and we both give a small nod, confirming that we at least had some involvement.

"Remind me never to be late to breakfast again," he mumbles, returning his attention to the stage.

Ms. Rodriguez holds up a hand, silencing everyone without a word. "I know-- I was shocked too. And angry. For years, Camp Create It has prided itself on shaping mature and responsible campers. That isn't to say we haven't had pranksters or out of hand jokes in the past, but this level of disrespect is something I haven't witnessed in all my time as camp leader."

I can't help feeling guilty. I may not have been the one who turned the dock into an abstract painting, but there's no denying I'm at least partially responsible for all this.

"Last night around midnight, paint was stolen from the supply cabinet in the Painting and Drawing Building and splattered all over the dock. I'm also ashamed to inform you that a few days ago, someone's belongings were stolen from their cabin-- but please, don't be alarmed. We're fairly certain it was a targeted incident, and the items were found the next morning."