Chapter 3 (part 3)
The roadies give out the keys to the rooms. We get our key and go straight to our room. The room has three beds and a bathroom; the walls are white, just like in hospitals, and two ceiling fans look old and rusted.
“Maybe we can go swimming.” Arya suggests.
“I want to sleep, A.” Zara says.
“I can come with you.” I offer.
We change into our swimsuits and go straight to the shore. Neal and the other campers are already swimming in the ocean. Landon and Zach, with some campers, sit on the sand three feet away from the shore. The kid with red hair strums the guitar and they all sing together. Arya and I join them. Luckily, I know the song—it’s a popular one from the ‘90s by an American rock band. After the song ends, Zach explains the game rules.
“Since we have a new member…” Zach and the kids in the group laugh. “Just kidding. The rules are pretty simple.” He looks at the two of us. “This is Shane. When the song finishes, she’s going to pass it to her right, and this young man here, Alex.” he looks at him then back at us, “is going to think of lyrics starting from the last word Shane stops on. Understand? Don’t worry if you don’t know how to play guitar—strum it anyway.” He giggles.
Arya and I nod. Shane does what Zach instructs.
I catch myself reminiscing memories of you. I remember you loved playing this game as much as I do. You’re good at it. You know a lot of songs, popular or not, pop or country. I remember one of those late-night phone calls when one of us couldn’t sleep—we played this game over the phone. You knew so many songs but always ended up sleeping while I was singing. I wish you were here. I wish you were always by my side.
…
After sinking into the moment, I find myself holding the guitar. I don’t know the song that just ended, but I think it ends with ‘relax.’ I think about what song has ‘relax’ lyrics for a moment, then I strum the guitar while Landon and Zach pay attention to what I’m playing. They look at me with smiles. I sing the first lyrics of Father and Son, and the others in the circle join me. When the sun sets, we head back to the house. Arya walks in front of me.
“You’re really good, huh?”
I jump when I hear someone talking to me so close, I feel their breath tickle my neck.
I look to my left and see Harry staring at me with a smile on his lips. His face is half-covered by the shadow of his cap, making him almost a silhouette up close. Creepy. I give him a quizzical look. He points to the spot where we were sitting.
“I heard you sing. You’re good.” he says, widening his smile, trying to convince me I’m good.
“I’m actually not good.” I say, pacing my steps to match his. “Just basic.”
“I’m Harry, by the way.” he says.
Then he wipes his hands before offering one to me. He extends his arm, but I don’t want to accept it.
“I don’t think we need this ‘proper’ introduction.” I say, doing air quotes with my fingers.
He gives up and puts his hands in his back pockets.
“So, tell me your name—that’s how it works, right? When I say my name, you say yours.” he insists.
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask. “I don’t think we need this ‘proper’ introduction.” I repeat, emphasizing ‘proper.’
He chuckles and puts his hands in the air.
“Okay, fine, I get it. So when did you realize you’re not a singer?”
“When I was nine,” I say, smirking. “When did you realize you can use your face to cover how untalented you are?” I say, rolling my eyes.
He tilts his head to the right and grins. “I realized I am a singer when I was ten, and ever since, I’ve known how beautiful my face is.”
He touches his chin. Is he trying to flirt with me? I ask myself. I think my expression shows what I’m thinking, because his eyebrows furrow, creating wrinkles on his forehead.
“What brought you here, mister?” I ask, changing the topic.
As we reach the doorstep, we stop. He presses his hands on the door frame, his face five inches away from mine. I can feel his breath all over my face—it smells like mint. My heart jumps loudly in my chest, wanting to burst out of my ribs. I inhale slowly, like I’m standing on fragile glass—one mistake and I’ll fall at any moment—then exhale even more slowly.
“We’re doing a music camp.” he says, making a face as if to ask why I’m asking a stupid question.
“No. I know a lot of people like your band and you’ve been doing music camps only in your own country, but what brought you here?” I say, stepping back, but my back hits the door.
“Our manager granted the requests of our Filipino fans. I guess you’re not one of them.” he says, straightening his posture.
“But you never granted the requests of American fans? I heard you have more fans there than anywhere else in the world.”
“Why are you so curious about having your first camp here?”
Because it feels surreal, and I don’t know why—it feels like it has something to do with me. I gasp for air, like I held my lungs from breathing for solid two minutes while thinking I was breathing. I turn the doorknob without facing it, staring at Harry as I push the door open from behind. I storm inside awkwardly. I make my way to the kitchen where the campers are preparing to eat. Arya and Zara sit together; there’s an empty seat between them, so I assume they reserved it for me. I sit next to them, and Harry sits with his pals. During the meal, I’m quiet while my head pounds. During the meal, I stay quiet, my head pounding like a drum. I silently watch Harry laughing and chatting with the other girls at camp, so effortlessly charming. I wonder if he ever looks at me the way I’m looking at him now—watching me talk with my friends, noticing the small things. But I doubt it. He doesn’t seem the same with me. But I don’t know why I have to look at him. I don’t want to assume, since he’s a celebrity and I’m nothing but a Filipino student—that’s not how the world works for me and for him. Don’t think I like him, Brit. It’s not like that. I swear!
…
As night falls after we finish our meal, the coach tells us to go straight to our rooms and prepare for our first activity. After I brush my teeth, I decide to wear the pajamas my mom packed for me. The campers settle on the floor, with the gays at the back
.