As I Am (8 page)

I make sure Margaret is all set and take a few pictures of the cabin roommates before I leave them to their unpacking and calling dibs on which bunks they want.

I’ve barely made it to the dining hall when Addy finds me.

“Hey! How’s the picture taking?” she asks. Addison never asks about my photography unless she wants something.

“What do you want, Addy?” I say, cutting to the chase.

She cocks her head to the side as if she doesn’t know what I’m talking about but gives up quickly and jumps in with both feet. “Miller is playing hard to get. I’m not sure exactly what you’ve told him, but I need you to be more direct. Just let him know I’m a sure thing, ok
ay?”

“Addy
…” I begin to protest.

“Oh, by the way, you also need to stay away from Amy. I mean, I know she’s your roommate and all, but did you hear what she said to me earlier?”

“Yeah, and I also heard what you said to her. Since when did you start telling people other than me what to do?” I say.

“Since I know what I’m talking about! And if she can’t appreciate and accept my help, then we don’t need to be around her.” Addy crosses her arms and waits for my reply, which does not come quickly.

I don’t know if it was Miller who flipped the switch or not, but somehow I’m seeing Addy in a whole new light. She’s always been extroverted and bossy, but that was mainly with me and her – our – friends who worship her like a fashion goddess. How long has she been crossing over to be that way with people she barely knows? She was so rude and I didn’t like it at all. That’s not the Addy I know. It’s strange to think that maybe I’m discovering I don’t know Addy as well as I thought I did.

“So
…” she prompts when I don’t respond right away.

“Your issue with Amy is yours, not mine,” I tell her. “I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

“Kin!”

“Nope.”

“Fine. What about Miller? Can you just be straight up with him? He’s making me work too hard at this and I’m starting to get a little pissed. If he doesn’t hurry up he’s going to miss out on this.” Addy waves her hands from the top her head to her hips as she displays herself. She doesn’t really mean it, though. Addy isn’t going to give up on Miller. If she did, she’d have to admit that there was a guy she couldn’t get, and Addy is never going to do that.

“I can’t be
that
honest. I’m not going to tell him that my sister is a ‘sure thing.’ C’mon, Addy! I’ll keep talking to him and being your walking ad campaign, but you’ll have to give him time. The kids are here now, too, so …”

“Alright, alright. Well, maybe you can work the canoes with him one day, just to give yourself more time to figure out what the hell is wrong with him,” she says in defeat.

“We’ll see. I’m not working any of the activities, but I’m sure I’ll have the chance to be over there taking plenty of pictures,” I tell her. In reality I’ll probably be over there so I can get a better shot of the girl tattooed on Miller’s arm.

“You mean you’re not going to do anything but take pictures all summer?” Addy asks in disbelief.

“I already told you that,” I tell her.

“But, Kin
. I was thinking that you’d be getting some exercise. I mean, you lost a few pounds and gained some strength last year when you did the nature hikes with the kids. What are you going to do for exercise now?”

And there it is. We all have our personal reasons for coming to the Camp at Lake Hollis. This is Addison’s personal reason for
me
to come to Lake Hollis. This is the never-ending struggle between us: her goal to mold and shape me into looking more like her. I don’t have anything new to say on the subject, and I really don’t feel like getting into it with her right now, or ever, so I respond as best I can without turning into an all-out fight.

“Mr. Fellows asked me to take pictures. I’m sure I’ll pitch in and help where help is needed. I’m not going to just sit by and do nothing if someone needs help. But, I’m committed to my job and I’m going to focus on it so I can do it well. Now, if
there isn’t anything else you’d like to make me feel badly about, I’ve got pictures to take.”

I wait for Addison to respond
but all she can do is look at me with quizzical eyes, unsure of what to say or do next. I’ve been challenging her these last few days with my lack of bending to her every whim. I’ve thrown her off her groove. Our entire lives have revolved around what Addy wants and me forming my one-girl resistance army is very distressing to her. It’s her fault, really. She’s the one who suggested I room with someone other than her. I’m her little bird and she’s having regrets after shoving me out of the nest to fly on my own.

“I’m only looking out for you, Kinley. I just want you to be the healthiest you can be,” she says. This is her usual response. She puts on her soft face and compassionate eyes and acts like it’s my health and happiness she’s concerned about. The reality is that Addy does her best to dress me up and make me look like we’re
really twins as best she can, but there’s nothing she can do about my body, and that frustrates her. She loves me. I don’t doubt that. But sometimes it feels like until I’m “right” there will always be something that separates us.

I sigh, knowing there’s nothing I can say or do. “I really do need to go. There are lots of arrival shots I’m missing. I’ll see you at lunch,” I tell her. Out of habit I wait for a moment to see if Addy has anything else she wants to say before I go.

“Just … be sure to talk to Miller, okay?” she says.

“Sure.”

I walk toward the dining hall looking for clusters of kids who are getting acquainted. I figure I should get some pictures of them all happy with each other before someone does something to piss somebody off and alliances form.

Just like last year, Mr. and Mrs. Fellows are mingling with the kids as they arrive and begin to get settled. They always take
time to get to know the kids and make them feel more at home. They already know the scholarship kids fairly well. Being on scholarship to the camp isn’t just about your financial need. They interview each applicant to see if they’re a good fit for the camp. Those campers should feel extra special since they’re pretty much hand-picked.

I
circle back around to the girls’ side of the camp. So far, so good. We’re a couple of hours in and everyone still thinks that the girl their standing next to is going to be a bridesmaid in their wedding fifteen years from now. I take a few more pictures before I notice Margaret sitting on a bench near her cabin. The girls who were so nice to her before are clustered together just a few yards away.

“Hey,” I say as I approach her. “Why aren’t you hanging with your roommates?”

“They think I’m weird,” she tells me.

“You’re so totally
not
weird. What makes you think they think you’re weird?”

“I heard one of the girls telling another girl.”

“I can’t imagine what could have happened to make them think that,” I say.

“I
… I have this thing … with words. I told them about one,” she says quietly, looking down and away from me like she embarrassed.

“I like words,” I say, tilting my head down as I try to catch her eye. “What did you tell them?”
I ask, hoping it’s not something like the Greek word for
one who kills others in their sleep
.

“Well, one of the girls was saying how excited she was for all the fun we’re going to have. She’s especially looking forward to the rock climbing wall because apparently there was some super-hot guy holding the ropes last year. I just told them that the Germans have a word for that feeling:
vorfeude
. It’s the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures. They looked at me like I had two heads and then I got flustered and spat out the next word that came to mind:
nyctohylophobia
. It’s the fear of dark woods or forests at night.”

Oh, she is kind of weird, but in a geeky, bookish way. I like it.

“Are
you
afraid of the woods at night?” I ask. This is something we should know so that she can either be exempt from the camper marshmallow roast, or so that someone can be with her so she’s not scared.

“Yes.” Her answer comes quickly and I wonder why on earth she would want to come to a summer camp in the woods?

Margaret puts her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands and I look over at the clique of girls she’s talking about. They all seemed so nice before, but now all I can see are mini-Addisons through these new lenses I’m seeing life through.

“
Well, we’ll make sure your cabin counselor knows that. You’ll be fine. And it sounds like you know a lot of stuff. I mean, I don’t know any German words, unless you count Darth Vadar, since
vadar
means father in German, and I only know that because I heard it in a movie,” I chuckle, which makes Margaret break into a slight smile. “I’m guessing you have a word for everything.”

“That’s because there is a word for everything,” she says brightly. Words are clearly this girl’s thing. It’s one thing to be a smart girl. It’s another
hard
thing to be an awkwardly smart girl. “Well maybe you can teach me a few new words this summer. I like learning new things. What do you think?”

“That’d be cool
.” She smiles.

“C’mon. I’m in charge of all the pictures around here and I’m going to get a few of you and your roomies, ok
ay?”

Margaret reluctantly stands and walks over to the group of seven girls with me. I address the girls and tell them that I’d like to take a few pictures that might end up on the Lake Hollis website or in the brochure. They’re all smiles and moving into a closer group when one of them leans over to me and says, “Are you sure you want
her in the picture? I mean, she’s kind of weird.”

I look at her and think for a moment before I answer. “What’s your name?”

“Paisley,” she says, all smiles.

“Of course it is. Well, Paisley,
maybe you’re right. The last thing this camp needs is a misrepresentation of the kind of kids they want here. Margaret, can you move over to your right a little.” Margaret begins to shuffle to her left, looking sad and defeated. “Keep going. Keeeeeep going. Perfect. Right there. Now lean up against that tree for me.” I pull my camera out and begin to focus on the group of girls who have flipped their long hair over their shoulders and back again at least four times each. As I’m about to take the picture, I swing my body to my right and refocus the camera on Margaret. When she sees me, she smiles, not believing that I’ve chosen to take her picture over the other girls.

I capture a few images before I put t
he camera down and address the self-righteous princess. “One day you’re going to grow up and realize that when you treat people like crap, all that does is make you crap. Treat people with dignity and respect and you might begin to earn a little bit yourself. Just because she uses big words that you don’t quite understand yet doesn’t make her weird. You might actually learn something. Now, you don’t have to be best friends, but I think you’re making a big mistake starting your time here with that attitude. Do you think you can show some maturity and get along with everyone here?”

“Yes,” Paisley answers quietly.

“Great. Margaret, you good?”

“Yes. Thanks, Kinley.” Margaret smiles and I leave the group of them to hopefully have a do-over. I hear one of the girls, not Paisley, tell Margaret that she likes her earrings and I think that maybe it’s a good start.

“I’m going to start calling you the middle-schooler whisperer,” Miller says to me from behind.

“Yeah, you do that
.” I smirk, stopping for him to meet up with me. “You’ve taken to spying on people now?”

“I couldn’t
not
watch you work your magic with those girls. It was flawless. Effortless. The one thing I can’t figure out, though, is why you don’t work that same magic with your sister,” he says with a sarcastic grin.

“Ok
ay. Listen. If you and I are going to be friends you’re going to have to lay off my sister,” I tell him.

“So we’re going to be friends?” he asks with hope.

I make him wait for just a moment before I answer. “Yeah. We’re going to be friends. I thought about what you said earlier, and you’re right. It’s hard to find people who understand me and for some crazy reason, I feel like you get me.”

Miller smiles and nods his head. “Cool. The feeling is mutual. So, what are you going to do about your sister? I mean, are we going to spend the summer pretending that you’re only talking to me about her? I’ve already made it clear that I’m not interested.”

“I have no desire to spend the summer talking about my sister with you. But, could you do me a solid,
friend
, and spend a little bit of real time with her? And before you roll your eyes at me, you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just be yourself and she’ll see that you are so not the right guy for her,” I tell him.

“Um
… thank you?”