08 | This Means War

After our plan played out perfectly, Lizzie and I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the lake, basking in our success. We talked more about what our lives are like outside of camp, and I have to admit, I'm glad I pushed my plan of isolation aside and decided to spend more time with her. The two of us are obviously a good team, judging from what we accomplished today.

By dinnertime, the entire camp knew about the incident. And thanks to the fact that teenagers love to dramatize, most people seem to think that Rita actually ate a worm. From the sounds of it, her perfect persona is crumbling, and fast.

Even now, sitting by the campfire and toasting marshmallows for s'mores, I can hear the distant murmurs recalling her scream of disgust, or recanting how an entire table had to take showers after lunch just to get the pizza sauce out of their hair.

As for the worms, I was relieved to hear they were fine-- one landed on a table occupied by some younger campers, and the other was spotted on the floor with a piece of pepperoni. Thanks to the fact that no one else knows there were only two worms, a lot of people seem to think a third-- or part of a third-- is currently digesting in Rita's stomach.

I know I'm not about to correct anyone, and Lizzie doesn't seem too concerned about the misinformation either.

In fact, it seems like the only thing she's concerned about right now is locating Zack. Her eyes scan the beach, searching the groups of faces lit by the fires. The sun is set, and the chilled breeze from the lake has everyone huddling around the warm flames. Lizzie's so distracted she doesn't even notice as the marshmallow at the end of her stick goes from brown to black.

I reach out, moving her stick away from the flames and getting her attention-- her eyes widen when she finally notices the overcooked blob.

"Looking for someone?" I ask in a way that tells her I already know the answer.

She smiles, blushing as she slides the inedible marshmallow onto her paper plate, reaching into a nearby bag for a new one.

"It's a good thing you're better at sewing than you are at making s'mores," a male voice says from my right side. I turn my head, then freeze as I watch Ethan sit down on the log next to ours.

Okay, wow. As if he didn't look good enough in his stained kitchen apron, he somehow looks even better in jeans and a T-shirt. My brain is basically reduced to the heart-eyed emoji, so I'm thankful that Lizzie picks up the conversation.

"Ha-ha," she enunciates sarcastically as he takes the last bite of the s'more in his hand. "I guess if I want a job here next year you can rest assured I won't be in the kitchen with you. This is my friend Delena," she introduces, nudging me with her elbow.

I give a small smile, awkwardly raising my hand in greeting. I've never really been shy, or the type of person to fumble over their words around a crush, but as Ethan smiles back at me, I feel lucky that I even remember how basic human interaction works.

"Delena..." He nods, finishing chewing. "You know, judging from your choice in pizza toppings, you won't be working in the kitchen anytime soon either."

My eyes go wide, and I feel Lizzie stiffen next to me. He saw?

Ethan laughs, putting up his hands innocently. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

I feel my shoulders relax as Lizzie lets out a long breath.

"Thanks, Ethan," she says. "I promise she deserved it."

"I don't find that hard to believe." He mumbles, a small smile toying at the edges of his lips as he reaches for a marshmallow. "Just try not to take things to far, you know? I'm not one to stand in the way of revenge, but it's your last year here-- you should enjoy it."

Lizzie nods, fixing her s'more. "Yeah, I know. Besides, I consider us even now anyways."

"Yeah," I agree. "As much as I'd love to send Rita screaming straight out of camp, I have better things to focus on." Like finding the inspiration I need to kick my photography block in the butt, for example. Oh, and trying not to crush on the incredibly handsome guy who managed to make me blush just by saying my name thirty seconds ago.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you two are more mature than she is." Ethan stands, wiping the crumbs from his jeans, and I hate the way I automatically feel disappointed that he's about to leave. "I have to go get some extra bags of marshmallows from the kitchen, but I'll see you two around-- it was nice meeting you, Delena."

I smile, trying to ignore the worry in the back of my mind that I might have melted chocolate on my face. "You too."

"See?" Lizzie says once he's gone. "Total heartthrob. He's sweet, he's funny, and he isn't a victim of Rita's charms. If it wasn't for you-know-who, I'd be swooning right along with you."

"I don't swoon," I defend myself, but it only widens her smirk.

"I don't know what else you'd call the look on your face when he sat down."

I shove her with my shoulder and we delve into a laughing fit, which slowly fades away as we spot Rita storming up to us from across the beach. Her fists are balled at her sides, feet kicking up sand as she makes her way to our log. Mei is trailing behind her, looking only slightly annoyed in comparison to Rita's obvious wrath.

As she stomps past other campers, a few conversations fade out, attention turning to her. She stops in front of our fire, glaring and breathing hard as if waiting for us to say something first.

Mei joins her side and we meet eyes for a second-- I raise an eyebrow, challenging her. I refuse to keep avoiding them in the halls and pretending they don't exist. Mei hurt me, I'm not going to let her ignore it anymore.

"Rita, Mei," I greet, pulling my marshmallow out of the fire. "Didn't see you guys at dinner-- you two lose your appetite or something?"

"It's so obvious it was you two," Rita growls, crossing her arms. "You put worms on my food! How childish can you be?"

Leave it to Rita to ignore the fact that she wasn't the only victim of our prank. If she stopped being self-centered for one second, the whole planet might be thrown off its axis.

"I don't appreciate the accusation," Lizzie starts, voice even and strong as she pushes up her glasses and stares Rita down. "And you know what? It doesn't really matter who did it-- it was just a prank, Rita. You should get over it and learn to take a joke, you know?"

I have practically chew a hole in my cheek to stop myself from grinning as Rita's expression of fury intensifies, mixing with disbelief as she tries to cope with having her own words thrown in her face.

"You two. Are so. Dead," Rita snarls, turning on her heel and striding away, Mei following silently.

"Talk about having an episode," Lizzie mumbles, going back to constructing her s'more.

"You think we should be worried?" I ask, watching as the two of them leave the beach. Her threat, as generic as it was, did sound pretty serious.

"Honestly, maybe." Lizzie raises a shoulder, laughing. "But I'm still too busy replaying her freakout in my head to be worried."

S'mores night lasts for another half an hour, and by the end of it I feel like I've gained three pounds. At curfew, we're all instructed to return to our cabins. Counselors watch over the area, making sure everyone follows instructions.

To Lizzie's disappointment, Zack never showed up, and to my frustration, I'm still thinking about the conversation with Ethan. Between fighting off thoughts of Mr. Tall, Dark, & Handsome and dealing with all the adrenaline from our scheme at lunch, I'm worn out and beyond ready for bed.

I change into my pajamas as the rest of the girls tuck themselves in or head off for the bathrooms. As Lizzie struggles to take off her sweatshirt, face hidden and seemingly stuck somewhere inside, I pull back my blankets.

The gasp of shock that leaves my mouth is automatic, and probably the most dramatic sound I've ever made in my life.

"What happened?" Lizzie's muffled voice asks, body blindly turning in my direction. Finally, she pulls off the sweater, revealing crooked glasses and a bird's nest of hair. Her eyes fall on my bed, confused expression immediately morphing into horror.

The white, fitted sheet is covered with clumps of dark brown dirt, and at least twenty worms are wriggling around aimlessly on the mattress. Lizzie turns to her own bed and pulls back her blankets to find exactly the same mess underneath.

We stare at each other wordlessly, a few of our cabin mates letting out laughs of shock as they look over.

"Alright." I shake my head, crossing my arms as we survey the work of Rita and Mei. "This means war."

Do you feel bad for Rita, or do you think she got what she deserved? 🤔

What do you think of Rita and Mei's retaliation? 🛏