Pencils & Polaroids

49: loopholes

I couldn't fully trust his notes. 

I learned everything in the syllabus even though the test's portions did include whatever his notes contained. I don't think I could ever trust anyone completely. Even if God sent an angel who'll only do me good, I'd still speculate every step that white-ringed dove would do. 

Nevertheless, Rainer didn't fully cheer when he and I got the same (highest) scores for the test. Our points were neck-to-neck and since the camp was ending now, nobody liked anybody scoring higher than them. Mainly if "them" contained Park Mellon. 

Archer Weston, however, is a mastermind. The 1% chance he took by putting Rainer and me in one team was the best. We were magic in the upcoming challenges. Falcons were leading the challenge by a HUGE margin, which essentially meant, Archer's rule in the realm of Captains. 

Because today's task went so well and Rainer was in such a good mood, he and the boys meteorically started the challenge each other in an arm-wrestling competition by the evening's campfire. It was boring at first but when Rainer and Grayson started wrestling, the whole camp got involved. 

I took over the unauthorized job of the referee who whistle-signals at the beginning and end of the one-minute task. 

And did I forget to mention how the ritual of bets goes with arm wrestling? It's solely responsible for making my bracelet take a dip in the Pacific Ocean but since we're all over it and I am not playing this game, it's fun to watch Rainer take one prized protected possession from his opponent losers. 

He's already got three free bathroom passes, two evening snack coupons, fifty dollars, and Marcus's school-famous Mesarati keychain. I wonder what he would take from his best friend because in the next ten seconds--wow, he lost. 

What was that even, thirty seconds?

Grayson did not like the number of people witnessing his loss but honestly, it just felt like Rainer was made to sit on the champion's chair while competitors lose to him one after the other. 

"That's right, thirty seconds, baby," Rainer cheered as Grayson got off the chair giving him slit-eyes. "That's how long you lasted. Sorry, Sam." Rainer yells throwing my best friend a pitied look. 

She side-hugs Grayson as she replies, "Oh, you don't want to know how long he lasts, Rainer."  

Grayson shows him the middle finger. "All you're getting from me is this."

Rainer just smirks with a hand on his precariously wounded heart. "You think I would take something from you, homie?" 

"Shut up," Grayson mumbles smiling.  

So he let it go. There is something good left in this boy, thank god. 

The chair opposite Rainer's is empty for only another few seconds before Jayden Banks emerges from the crowd, taking off his varsity jacket, and throwing it at one of the Ravenford girls. As he takes the seat rubbing his palms together, Rainer dials down his pride and settles in his chair. Seeing Jayden in a mere black vest, I expect Rainer to take off his light grey hoodie too. But he doesn't. He simply pulls back the long sleeves until they crumble at his elbows. 

I'm about to begin the countdown when my eyes catch sight of the black strap around his wrist. A cold chill passes down my spine and my hands immediately raise to one of my shoulders, tapping it vigorously. Surely, I don't feel the presence of my bra strap on one of my shoulders, because it's wrapped around Rainer Barcross's wrist. 

His playing wrist. 

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. 

I stand up straight, adjusting my back to somehow kill the amount of nervousness I feel churning inside me. Licking his lips, he motions me to resume the countdown despite his smirk mocking my carelessness from this afternoon's storeroom activities.