Eleven: It's Times Like These When I Wish I had Boobs

I am definitely suffering from insomnia.

            Well, why else would I be waking up at 7am after getting absolutely zero hours of sleep (excluding the fifteen minutes where I drifted off and then woke myself up by falling out of bed)?

            Oh, yeah. It just might be because my mind was racing at the speed of light, replaying the events of that day over and over again until I start to become unsure of whether the scene is just a figment of my overactive imagination. It could be true; I have created the moment of Blake kissing me probably close to one thousand times, so why would this particular thought be any different?

            Because it actually happened.

            It still hasn’t sunk in. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just lost my kissing virginity to the hottest guy at camp. Even the words sound foreign in my head. Well, it’s not every day you get to make out with the guy of your dreams.

            Okay, okay... so maybe it wasn’t quite making out. But considering my lack of experience with anyone without boobs (excluding me), it might as well have been.

            Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.                   

            It was even worth being put through the punishment of having to swim in the lake. And that’s saying something.

            Even though I should feel contented solely with my new found feeling of ecstasy, I can’t help but feel a bit of triumph seeping in. Because as blatant as Cindy may be around Blake... I’m pretty sure they haven’t made out.

            Fine, kissed.

             I should probably get up, actually. Breakfast is soon and I don’t think there’s been a morning where I’ve got the boys down to the dining hall on time yet. Jenny is almost inevitably doubting my ability as a counselor (I suppose she’s got a right to, considering the spaghetti incident, the lake incident, the dining hall brawl and just general uncontrollable behavior of the kids in my cabin), and I’m desperate to prove her wrong.

            Does spending time making out with another counselor count as responsible behavior?

            I hope so.

            “Bailey!”

            Ugh... great. Which one of the kids is calling me? I can’t tell; the sound is muffled from traveling through the wall that separates the two rooms. At least it doesn’t sound like Jake, which is a relief.

            I better go and see what they want. The quicker I go, the quicker I get back here to continue my daydreaming about Blake’s lips. Oh, those lips...

            “Yeah?” I call in the direction of the other room, as I approach the door. My hand reaches out and grabs the handle, which allows me to push back the barrier between my room and the main cabin. I start to walk through, but as my left foot lands on the wooden floor, it slips forward immediately, which in turn causes me to lose my footing.

            My butt collides with the wooden boards rather unexpectedly, forcing a rather attractive “Oof!” sound out of my mouth. Okay, I’m aware that I’m not exactly the epitome of gracefulness, but I don’t usually trip over thin air.

            I’m about to try and scramble to my feet and act as cool as possible, but I don’t get the chance. This is because, in a matter of seconds, something wet and slimy is dumped over my head, drenching me immediately.

            And I scream.

            My high pitched screeching rings out through the entire cabin, and when I open my eyes, my gaze catches on the six boys who are all standing at the other side of the room. The only thing they have in common is that they are all looking at me, but their expressions could not be more different.

            Satisfaction, amusement, anxiety... it’s not difficult to tell which of them belongs to each boy.

            It’s only when I look down at my soaking body that it dawns on me what I am covered in. Because, of course, where would be the fun in using only simple water to dump on my head? Naturally, Jake and his cronies have been much more inventive than that.

            Hence the reason why I’m covered in murky water, a handful of dirty looking leaves and grass,  soil and a few earthworms (which have been thrown in for good measure).

            When my screaming finally dies out, the tense atmosphere that settles in is probably even worse. All of the six kids standing opposite me are frozen to the spot – even the culprits themselves. The feeling of disgust that had primarily taken top spot in my mind starts to dematerialize, but its crown is handed over to an equally negative surrogate. Anger.

            “What is wrong with you?” I scream at them, pulling myself to my feet. My hands rest on my hips in what I hope is a threatening manner.

            As expected, silence is the only response. My gaze switches to Jake, who although is not speaking, does not look concerned in the slightest. In fact, he appears as if he is finding the whole situation funny (although this could be something to do with the fact that he was the one who conducted the vile prank in the first place). The little brat.

            “What is your problem with me?”

            Jake smirks, which only increases the urge I have to punch him in the face. It’s only the fact that I’ll almost definitely get fired if I do that is stopping me. Otherwise, my fist would’ve collided with his nose already. “I hate you.”

            “I haven’t done anything to you! How can you hate me?”

            His eyes narrow. “Because I do.”

            Oh my God, what is his problem? He’s been determined to make my life here a complete misery ever since I arrived. It’s only been four days and already I’ve been pranked, punched... not to mention almost drowned. I honestly didn’t realize that an eight year old was capable of doing this type of stuff. And why is another matter that I can’t even begin to understand.

            Jake is a messed up kid.

            I step closer to him, making direct eye contact with him (even if he is over a foot shorter than me). “This is your warning,” I say, in the most authoritative tone I can manage. “Any other pranks or stunts you pull, and I’m going straight to the supervisors and getting you thrown out. Either that, or I’m demanding to switch cabins.”

            I turn on my heel and begin to head back to my room, where the tempting prospect of a hot shower beckons. I can’t get this gunk off me quick enough – it’s already seeping into my nightshirt, giving it a repulsive sticky feeling, and I swear a worm has crawled its way down my top (which I don’t exactly want to think about). When I am about halfway between Jake and the door to cleanliness, his voice sounds.

            “Go switch cabins then. We don’t want you here anyway.”

            Seriously? He is such a brat.

            ***

            The only thing that stops me from killing Jake and brings me down to breakfast is the anticipation of seeing Blake. Although it’s unlikely that he will grab me by the waist and start kissing me passionately as soon as I walk in the door, I can’t help but smile to myself every time I think about it. Despite my negative mood change following Jake’s stunt, the memory of the kiss still brings butterflies to my stomach.

            So where does that leave Blake and I now? I haven’t even told Savannah about what happened, so she’s oblivious to the situation. I always thought that as soon as my first kiss happened, I would be on the phone to her straight away, spilling every little detail that occurred. But now... I get this kind of selfish emotion that tells me if I share this with anyone, it will somehow reduce the purity of the feeling for myself.

            Kissing someone really messes up my brain.

            But hey, I never said I didn’t like it.

            As I enter the dining hall, my head instantly snaps in the direction of our usual table, but to my dismay, it is empty. Well, Tom and Danny are sat there still, but it’s empty of the Greek God I’m looking for.

            My eyes scan over the food hatch when I reach it, and I find myself mentally questioning which foods will keep my breath pleasant enough should another kiss be on its way. Call me optimistic, but now I’ve entered the kissing world, I have to always be prepared.

            And I wouldn’t say no to a smooch in front of the blonde bitch, either.

            Maybe that would stop her stupid simpering.

            In the end I go for a bowl of cornflakes, even though I know I will probably regret this later when at eleven o’clock my stomach will be rumbling loudly. Still, I think I can live with this and any more huge breakfasts will only inflate my thighs even more.

            “You look happy,” Tom comments, when I approach our usual table.

            “I shouldn’t,” I respond, sliding into a seat. “I got pranked big time this morning.”

            “Jake?”

            My face twists into a grimace. “Yup. Bucket on the door – not just water, though. They were a little more inventive today. Some grass, dirt... not forgetting the worms.”

            Tom lets out a low whistle, but I can see a smile threatening to form on his lips. It’s so obvious that he wants to laugh. Half of me wants to take offense that he’s not taking my miserable cabin life seriously, but the other (stronger) half knows that the thought of me in my PJs drenched in murky lake water is fairly humorous.

            “You know, you could ask Jenny to switch you,” Danny points out. “I bet if you told her that Jake’s giving you a hard time she’d agree to it.”

            “I’m considering it,” I respond. “I’ve told them – one more prank and I will. They didn’t seem too bothered, though.” I turn my attention to my cereal bowl, lifting the first spoonful of cornflakes to my lips.

            “Hi, guys.”

            I almost choke when I noticed we have been blessed with the arrival of Blake. This may have been less shocking if he had arrived alone.

            It also may have been less shocking if Cindy wasn’t hanging off his arm, looking up at him with a glimmer in her eyes that could be interpreted as either adoration or obsession.

            It’s probably the latter.

            Unfortunately, I am too preoccupied with choking on my cereal to respond. Cindy shoots me a strange look that probably means you are a complete weirdo, but if I’m honest, removing the stray cornflake which is lodged in my throat is way more important than retaliating at the present moment.

            Blake takes a seat opposite me, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, I have to get Tom to provide the required professional first aid technique (i.e. slapping me on the back violently). When I recover, Savannah bounds over to the table, greeting us with her signature friendly smile.

            “You okay, Bailey?” she asks, her arched brows furrowing slightly as she peers at me.

            “Yeah, fine,” I answer dismissively. I know that my face has probably turned an odd color as a result of the coughing fit of thirty seconds ago, but I’m not really concerned. What I am concerned about, however, is why Blake is acting like I’m invisible.

            “Where were you yesterday, Blake?” Cindy asks. Her eyes are widened Bambi style as she looks up at Blake with an expression that makes me want to puke up the two mouthfuls of cornflakes I have eaten. “We missed you down at the lake.”

            I wait for him to tell the bitch that he was with me, and to stop making stupid faces at him, but he doesn’t. Instead, his response is, “Oh, I had to do something else.”

            So I’m just something else? Well, this is just great. He hasn’t made eye contact or even acknowledged my existence yet, which can’t be a good sign. What if I was a bad kisser? What if I was too forward in responding to his kiss, and scared him off? What if I drooled on him?

            Oh my God, what if I did drool on him? I never thought about that.

            Maybe talking to Savannah wouldn’t have been such a bad idea – she’s always so calm and prepared. She would’ve told me what to do if I drooled on him.

            I really need to stop freaking out.

            “Well, I missed you,” Cindy says seductively, as Blake takes a bite of his toast. When he finishes chewing, she raises her hand and makes a disapproving noise. “You got a little something...” Her finger swipes across the corner of his lips. “There. Gone now.”

            Oh my God, she did not just do that. There weren’t even any crumbs there. That bitch.

            “Thanks,” Blake says. He looks at her, and smiles slightly. Then...

            Oh my freaking God, he didn’t.

            Yes, he did. He just totally checked out her cleavage.

            Okay, so he probably can’t help it. It is practically staring him in the face, especially in that way too small vest she’s wearing. Only Cindy would wear a white vest with a neon pink bra. Which, I will add, is way bigger than mine. But let’s be realistic here... who actually has a bra smaller than mine?

            He doesn’t even make any attempt to hide it. It’s like he actually wants her to catch him staring. It seems like I’m not the only one who has noticed this either – the whole of our table has now fallen into an awkward silence, and no one is daring to make eye contact with the blatantly flirting couple.

            And needless to say, I’m pissed off.

            So maybe I don’t actually have a cleavage to stare at, but still. That doesn’t give him the right to use Cindy’s as a substitute. Forgive me for thinking that him kissing me actually meant something. Not completely blanking me twelve hours afterward, because he’s too busy being interested in someone else’s breasts.

            There’s only one conclusion... I must have drooled on him.

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Hello! I can't think of an interesting author's note today, aha, so sorry for the disappointment. I was gonna wait a couple of hours to upload but then I saw the really cute comments from all of the loyal readers on the last chapter and decided to upload anyway! I love you all :-) And remember to vote, otherwise Bailey won't be pleased ;)