The Summer at Camazotz

Eleven

During the summer before sophomore year, the weather was much hotter than the previous years. The air was dry and the sun shone what felt like ten times brighter. There were few spots outside that blocked out the sun and its rays. You either took shelter in your air conditioned house or braved the heat.

The first week of summer was quiet. My friends and I usually gathered together on multiple occasions to do anything that came to mind. But the heat was so overbearing that we pushed it off. That is, until Kyle announced that we could hang out at his house which was now equipped with a pool in the backyard.

Thinking back to that summer, most of our time spent together was at Kyle's house in our swimsuits, drinking cold beverages in between our time in the pool and the time we spent lounging around the deck. His parents didn't seem to mind that we were there so often. They preferred swimming later on in the day to avoid the worst of the sun and Kyle's sister was on vacation with a group of friends, leaving the pool to her brother—and the rest of us.

In August, the weather returned to its normal state—low twenties with clouds here and there and air that was actually breathable. Our pool days lessened then and slowly came to a stop around the middle of the month.

The days I swam with my friends last summer were unbearably hot for our British Colombian town. They warranted a good swim—or swims, in our case.

Today, however, is not close to hitting thirty degrees. It's about twenty one with only a few clouds in sight. One would think it isn't warm enough for a day of swimming, but that is exactly what is on the schedule for today.

I don't doubt that the water is cold and the not so hot weather won't be much consolation.

While my time at Camp Camazotz so far has been enjoyable, days like today make me wish I could be back home in the safety of my room where I do not have to go swimming in unknown waters on a rather cool summer day.

I seem to be the only one thinking this, though.

Jordan is excited to go swimming since he does it all the time back home and it just so happens to be his favourite hobby.

Astrid mentions how much fun it was whenever they went swimming during camp last year and that the water really isn't that bad once you're in for a few minutes.

Tammy is simply content with an activity that doesn't involve running of any sort. She seems to see it as more of a relaxation opportunity despite Astrid's comments suggesting otherwise.

The early hours of the morning have been spent trying to ease myself into the thought of swimming. Although I can swim and am not afraid of water, I prefer warm water over the latter. I also, for whatever reason, feel much more. . . aware of myself today.

There are tons of days where I don't care about my appearance or how I portray myself. I'll throw on whatever is comfortable or suiting for that day and move on. But then there are days like today where I am overly aware of myself. My eyes over analyze myself on their own and before I can catch up, my brain is deciding what to feel and think about the situation at hand.

My hair is rather tame today; the curls have less frizz and are not sticking out in every direction. My face is shinier than usual; a result from being in the sun for the majority of each day. There's a slight hint of pink dusting my cheeks that I would skip over any other day. My eyes zero in on the faintest wrinkles covering the lower half of my white shirt from its time stuffed in my bag. It is simply another example of something that usually doesn't bother me, but now sticks out in my mind as I continue to check myself out in the bathroom mirror.

The only result I gather from my examination is that I need a shower and a very good night's rest. I can only hope that everyone else won't conclude that I appear to be barely put together, grasping for the last bit of energy that I have left in me for this week.

These thoughts swim laps around my mind as my cabin exits the wooden building and heads outside, meeting the crisp morning air as we do so. They stay even when I notice how well put together my friends are and how confidence nearly oozes out of every crevice in their bodies.

Tammy's dark hair is scooped up in a knot and held in place with a large clip, not a hair out of place. Her pale face is void of any dirt that may have settled between last night and now. Her white bathing suit is tucked into a pair of black denim shorts, topped off with her signature black Vans.

Standing next to her is Astrid, whose hair has also been tied back from her face into a messy bun that sits on the top of her head. She's wearing sunglasses to cover the supposed dark circles she swears she had earlier at breakfast. Similar to Tammy, her crimson red bathing suit slips into denim shorts that compliment her figure nicely.

The two girls side by side give off a strong aura that is hard to decipher. Both look effortlessly flawless which only makes me feel like a bigger mess.

My gaze wanders to Jordan who is a mirror image of myself, if I was cleaner.

He has a fitted white t-shirt on with his grey swim trunks. He's traded his usual sneakers for black slip ons. His light skin is almost glowing in the sunlight. A smile dances across his face and I'm in awe at how he manages to clean up better and better each time I see him.

I don't realize that I'm staring until I see that he's staring too, and we are both more than aware, but neither one of us looks away. Me because my eyes are simply stuck on him. Him because I am not being even the least bit subtle about it.

It's a weird kind of comfort that I didn't think I could feel. I typically squirm under eye contact this intense, but I feel glued to the spot like a statue in a museum. I can only look back, even while the voice in the back of my mind reminds me of how weird this must look. I try to convince myself that he'll turn away soon.

But he doesn't.

Something churns in my stomach and I'm not sure if it's my breakfast or something else, but it has to be.

Time slows down and I try so desperately to turn away and do anything but stare. The moment of comfort under his gaze is fading and the anxiety of it all sets in the pit of my stomach.

It takes everything in me to breathe properly again and avert my gaze to anything else.

I try to concentrate on what Astrid and Tammy are saying or what the campers are whispering about, but everything blurs together into one, big indecipherable mess.

Even after having turned away and switching my focus to something else, I swear I can still feel a pair of green eyes on me.