Basically half of our friends aren't there for lunch. They're running, because most chose sports. It's just me, Newt, Frypan, and Winston. Teresa's helping the camp instructors around, because she's kind like that.

I listen to the boys speaking about what happened in their lives while they weren't at the camp, until an unfamiliar voice greets us. 

"Hi! Mind if I sit?"

We all look up in sync. At the head of our table, stands a girl. Two loose braids are in her hair, which is blonde. The ends are purple. Her skin is tanned from the sun; I can see a white line below her top's strap, and freckles are dotted all over her skin. Her eyes have a mesmerizing greenish color.

"Not at all," Winston says. He scoots aside, but she doesn't seem to notice, and sits down beside me instead. I automatically scoot to the left when our legs touch.

"What are your names?" She wonders.

Frypan holds out his hand. "Originally Siggy, but everyone calls me Frypan or Fry. But just call me Fry."

"Nice to meet you, Fry," she says, smiling.

"Winston," the boy says. Maybe it's very obvious or I'm just paying attention, but I can see he for sure doesn't think this girl is annoying or anything. I agree; she seems fine. But Winston probably also finds her hot and even though she for sure is pretty, I think we find her nice-looking in different ways, if you know what I mean.

"Nice to meet you." She turns to Newt and I. "And you guys?"

"Newt."

"Uhm, Lyndon." I hold out my hand. Hers is soft. Mine has dried paint on it. "Nice to meet you. I haven't seen you before."

Never have been good at making friends. This might be my opportunity to do it without anyone's help. She seems nice and lets me speak.

"Yeah, I haven't really shown myself since I arrived. Which I did... yesterday," she explains. "They weren't even sure if they had a place for me to sleep left. I ended up in a tent with another girl. She doesn't really speak to me."

Winston raises his eyebrows. "Here for the misbehavior or just for fun?"

"Just for fun. Although I might've overestimated how much fun I'm actually gonna have. Janson seems stern."

"Become friends with us and you'll have all the fun in the world."

Her eyes light up. "Yeah? You'd want to be my friends?"

Fry laughs. "Sure. But we have like ten other people in our group. They're currently running, but I'm sure you'll meet them tonight."

"Okay." She nods. "Nice. Any girls in the group, too?"

"Yeah."

"My sister," I say. My eyes trail over the girl for a second. She's wearing a white skirt and simple black shirt. Not that I can base outfits on things like this, but I am able to imagine Lelia walking next to this girl. "And his sister." I motion at Newt. "They're kind."

"And two others," Fry adds. "You'll like them, too."

She nods gratefully. "Thanks."

I continue eating. Do I start a conversation? If I do, will she be able to tell I just want to be friends and nothing more? Because I've never really been friends with girls— they've been interested in more things than that.

Luckily, she starts it. "So you have a sister. Does she look like you?"

"Not much," I reply. "Same blonde hair, though. Newt looks more like his sister."

"But Sonya looks like a rat," Newt states. Then he gasps. "Are you saying I look like a rat?"

"What? No. Sonya doesn't look like a rat—"

Frypan also gasps, jokingly. "So you're saying Newt's sister is hot!"

"No! Neither of you look like a rat, okay?" I nearly bury my head in my hands to cover my red cheeks. Sonya is pretty. Newt is... how do boys tell each other they look good in a friendly way? Do they even tell each other that? I don't know.

"What activity did y'all choose to spend your summer with?"

"Arts," Newt and I reply in unison. "And you?"

"Hm." She shrugs. "I might go for arts, too. I haven't chosen yet."

"Most girls from our friend group have chosen for sports, though," Newt says. "And Teresa cooks with Fry. If you want to be around the girls more, I'd recommend that."

"I'm not good at sports, nor cooking," she responds. "I like arts."

"We'll lead you around a bit, then," I suggest.

A smile forms on her face. "Awesome. Thanks."

Newt leans forward with a frown. "You never told us your name."

"Oh!" She chuckles in realization. "I'm sorry. It's Noelle. I got so caught up talking that I didn't realize."

I finish my food as she talks to Winston a bit. With my plate in my hands, I walk away. It's a quick job to stack it on top of the other dishes. Soon, I'm between Newt and Noelle again.

"Any plans for the rest of the day?" She asks, playing with her hair. Lelia does that too sometimes. But Lelia does it when she's nervous or isn't sure what to do. Noelle seems to be doing it because Winston is really enjoying the view, to be honest.

Well, who knows they'll turn into a thing.

I shrug. "Not really. Who do you share a tent with?"

"I think her name Lainey or something. Do you know her?"

"Nope."

"Oh. I hope she talks to me soon. Otherwise I'll talk her head off and she won't say anything back."

"That would happen if someone's head is off, yeah," Newt says dryly.

Okay, I think he doesn't like our new company.

But Noelle laughs. "Probably. So if I'm talking too much, just tell me. Do any of you ever feel like you talk a lot?"

"Sometimes."

"What?" Newt pulls a face at me. "You're rather quiet— no, you talk the right amount."

I straighten my back. "Oh. Thanks. You— er, you too."

He gives me a soft smile. "Thanks, Lynn—"

"So are there any couples in your friend group?" Noelle lies her hands down on the table as she leans forward a bit, interested.

"No. Not yet." Fry grins. "But his sister," he points at me, "and our friend seem pretty close, and Thomas has—"

"Hey, don't spill all the secrets!" Winston almost slams a hand on Fry's mouth. "That's betrayal for Thomas."

Fry rolls his eyes. "Even if I don't say anything, it's very clear who Thomas likes."

True. When Teresa passes, he falls silent before whispering if we agree on how beautiful she is. When she touches him, he also grows silent and his whole face gets red. When she talks to him, it doesn't matter what someone else is doing; he's focused on her and her only.

When I watched him speak to her this morning, Jeff was giving him these jokingly punches on the back. Thomas had been angry about that the whole morning, but the second Teresa showed up, it seemed like it no longer mattered. As if he didn't even feel it.

I hope when I'm in love, I don't act that obvious. And I hope when someone is in love with me, they do act like that. It's kind of cute.

But now I remember the girls who have acted like that in the past, and how I wasn't exactly happy with that.

"Lyndon!" Fingers snap in front of my eyes.

I blink. "Sorry— what?"

Fry chuckles. "Keep your mind with the conversation."

"Hey, let him zone out all he wants."

"Oh, no." I shake my head at Newt, slightly embarrassed, because everyone is staring and I don't like it when that happens. "Please snap me out of it. I hate missing what y'all say."

"Yet what we say boring enough for you to zone out."

"Not true!" I defend. "I'm philosophizing about your words!"

They all and up having a few laughs, then their conversation continues about adventures they've been through the last week.

My butt is staring to hurt from sitting on this wooden bench. I scoot closer to Newt. "You wanna go to the art hut—"

"Oh my God, yes!" Noelle peeps.

My mouth stays half open. Sure, she's allowed to come with, but I'm also sure I asked Newt that. Whatever. She's our friend now, I guess, and needs to find her twist.

"Okay. Let's go," I eventually decide. "Newt, any more shirts you'd want me to paint?"

Because I've really enjoyed doing that.

No, I've enjoyed his smile when he receives another painted shirt. The way his eyes light up. The laugh that escapes and gives me a nice feeling. Those three seconds are absolutely worth two hours of work.

Noelle gasps before Newt can reply. "You paint shirts? That's so cool! For money or for free?"

Minho would've told me to say it was for money, but I don't. "Just for free."

"Oh, that's so cool! Could you paint mine?"

"Eh, sure." I nod. "What design would you want?"

"Just do something," she says.

We enter the art hurt. No one is there. Just painting that are drying, and one of Newt's shirts that I painted this morning, and all the equipment.

"So what do you guys usually make?"

"Everything, kind of."

I sit down on a chair. Newt pulls one backwards to— Noelle plops down on it. "Thank you, Newt."

I can tell by the way Newt's face falls that he did not mean for her to sit down on that one. With a tighter jaw, he sits down on another chair. Since I'm at the end of the table, he can't sit next to me.

Not a big deal.

I think.

"So how long have you guys been friends for?"

"Only for a week and a half. We met on the first camp day."

"Really? I thought you guys knew each other for so long already." She pauses. "I hope we can become like that, too. I've never really had friends."

I frown. "Why not? You're nice."

She bites her lip. "Well, no one has been interested so far. Neither have I had a relationship before. Have you guys? Do you guys?" 

"I do do guys," Newt confirms.

My mouth somewhat falls open at all his jokes about his sexuality, but Noelle seems confused. Then I manage a laugh at his comment, and she's even more confused.

"I'm gay," Newt hints.

"Oh!" She nods in realization. "What's that like?"

He glares at me when she doesn't look, and pulls a face that says 'get me out of here right now' and I just motion for him to tell her something. Anything.

"I see the world in rainbow colors and am attracted to every single male I see. I think girls are absolutely disgusting," he bites out, as dry as his words before.

"What—"

"I see the world the exact same as you do," he then says, annoyed.

She ends up turning to me, her cheeks red from shame. "And you?"

"Uhm." Helplessly, I share another glance at Newt. "...I see the world in the same way, too."

"That's not what I meant. You know what I meant."

Newt's eyebrows furrow deeper by the second. "Is it important? Is it that important to you to know who and what he likes?"

"It would be nice to know what is acceptable to do and what not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He spits out.

"I don't know— maybe if I do a certain thing, not knowingly if it's okay or not because I don't know if he's straight or—"

Jeez. I have tuned my ears out.

Was she planning on doing things with me? I think my attempt to make it clear I just want to be friends didn't get through her head.

And I don't want to be arrogant, but it's annoying. She doesn't even know me.

But I'll give her a chance. Some people are just... awkward. I mean, I'm awkward, though I don't really ask these kind of questions.

"Lyndon." Her hand waves in front of my eyes. I see the red painted on her nails. "You're zoning out again." She laughs. "Your face!"

One of Newt's eyes is just squinting at this point. Now I get the Mama Newt thing. Amina's eyes do this thing too, sometimes.

Oh, that time Lelia came into the house stoned, while we were eating dinner. That time she didn't clean the bathroom up once again, and black eyeliner was everywhere, or when she stole Amina's shirt and didn't bring it back as... clean as it was before.

Another giggle beside me shakes me out of my thoughts. "It's like you go to a whole other universe when you zone out!"

I shake my head a bit, blushing. "Sorry. Just thinking."

Her laughs get harder. "I can tell. About what?"

"Eh— my sister."

"She is lucky that you watch out for her all the time. I wish I had a big brother. Or literally anyone to protect me. You never know these days. Have you seen what's on the news lately?" But before I can reply, she continues. Or literally just repeats. "Your sister is lucky."

"She doesn't enjoy me watching her or anything."

Noelle exhales. "Really? Why not? I'd feel so protected. Don't you get angry that she doesn't appreciate it?"

"Not really," I say slowly. "But I don't babysit her, if that's what you think."

"Of course." Her lips curve into a smile. "How old is she? What's her name?"

"Lelia's eighteen."

"I love that name," she compliments.

"You should tell her that," Newt comments. "Can we go do something now? Lynn, the shirts—"

"Oh, I should grab a shirt for you to paint," she realizes. "Wait, I expected to get dirty today, so I brought one. Here."

Just like that, she lies a shirt in front of me. Then I look at Newt, and the pants in his hands, half of them already painted by me, and back at the shirt. "Right. What design did you say again?"

"Anything." She squeals. "I'm so excited to see what you make me. Newt, does he give you cute designs? Or just to girls? Am I the first girl he's painting for?"

"He has painted plenty things for girls before," is all Newt says.

Technically, that's not a lie. I've painted a lot for Lelia. Just not for other girls.

"I'm so excited!" She says again, kind of ignoring Newt's reply. Her hand touches my shoulder as I start working on her shirt. I'm thinking a sunset on the beach with her name written in the sand. "Is it annoying if I watch you work?"

Newt lets me do my job as he works on his perfect creations, and doesn't bother me or care what I paint. He likes to see the result only when I'm done. When he does watch, his eyes are on me, and not the clothes. And he does talk as I paint, but differently. I don't know how to explain it.

"I guess not," I decide. Then I regret it, because after working for half an hour and having her look over my shoulder for half an hour, she rests her chin on it.

"You're so good at this, Lyndon," she compliments. "Wait, I usually get people nicknames. What did they call you again? Lynn?"

Newt calls me that, and no one else. I don't think I want anyone else to call me that. And it's almost like an unspoken rule in our friend group; someone has a nickname for another, and the others don't copy it unless they say it's okay, like Fry says.

'I'm Frypan, but call me Fry.'

And Teresa said, 'It's okay to call me Tes.'

But Noelle hasn't really met our other friends so she can't know. Still, I don't like it.

"Can I call you that? Lynn? Or Lynnie? No, that's cheesy. Or isn't it? What do you think?"

I don't know what to say. Newt seems to dislike this girl so he wouldn't mind if I say I want her to call me Lyndon. But I know myself and I know I'll be stuck with guilt if I tell her to call me Lyndon. One hour of knowing her is not enough to pull any conclusions on how much I like her.

"I prefer Lyndon," I end up saying, with a lump in my throat.

"Alright!" To my surprise, she sounds fine with it.

I am somewhat sighing in relief I didn't hurt her or anyth—

"Do you hear that, Newt? Lyndon doesn't like to be called Lynn. Maybe ask him what he likes, like I did. Always better to ask."

"Yeah, I recall I didn't ask for your opinion."

Again, my mouth somewhat falls open. But another side of me is glad that Newt said this, because I love it when he calls me Lynn. Honestly, it makes me feel special. And that's why I want no one else to call me that. It will no longer be special.

Noelle snickers. "You're so funny. Gay men are always funny. I've noticed that. Did you?" She looks at me.

I don't know what to say. This is getting ridiculous. How can an amount of humor have to do with someone's sexuality?

Sure, Newt's funny, but to me, that's not connected to him being gay. Nothing about his personality is connected to him being gay.

"Oh, no!" She suddenly gasps. I'm grateful that it means I don't have to reply, but then I see what she's gasping at.

My fingers have pressed the brush so hard against her shirt as I was thinking, that the whole thing is ruined. There's an ugly mark in the middle of it, unfixable.

"Oh—"

"Did you do that on purpose?!"

My face falls. "No! Why would I—"

"God, I told you that if I talked too much or am annoying to tell me," she cries out. "No need to get angry!"

"I wasn't—"

"Never mind." She jumps up, and disappears before I know it.

Newt grabs the shirt and throws it on the ground. "Bloody freaking hell, is she related to Janson or something?"