Every Little Thing

05

After a half-hour passes, we all find ourselves crowded around the campfire. Georgie and I were lucky to find ourselves on a bench, squashed between Hale and his friend Greg. Marshmallows are passed around, the music is still playing, and there are about fifty kids all jammed into the lot. It smells of outdoors and pine needles and firewood, and I breathe in what little fresh air there is with relish. Georgina and Hale are still (unsurprisingly) talking it up, and suddenly I find myself feeling isolated without her attention.

I turn to Greg, who seems polite enough. After all, he's leaving a generous amount of space between us, which is no easy feat given the circumstances. I smile at him, and gesture him over, trying my best to seem friendly without being flirtatious.

"You can scoot in, you know," I laugh, "I don't bite."

Relief floods his face, and he moves so that our knees just barely brush.

"Thanks," he says, "It's a bit crowded."

"Tell me about it," I say, "Thanks for—I don't know, the respect, I guess?"

He laughs in turn, shaking blonde hair out of his face.

"No problem. No offense, but it looked like you needed it."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the most social person in the world. Georgina's much better at this whole party-thing than me."

His gaze slides from mine to my friend's, and he nods, lowering his voice as he says,

"Oh, that girl. Hale talks about her all the goddamn time. Seriously."

"Yeah," I say, biting my lip, "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if..."

I trail off with an intentional lift of my eyebrows, and he nods thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I can definitely see that happening."

"We'd better be prepared to hang out together as third wheels," I say jokingly, and he laughs, a real one, head tilted back and everything.

"I wouldn't mind that," he says, eyes still glimmering with mirth. "Evelyn, right?"

"Yeah," I say, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pinching in the pit of my stomach as his gaze lingers on mine, all of a sudden feeling exposed. He wouldn't mind that? What is that supposed to mean? "And you're Greg?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and I let out a half-hearted laugh, turning away from him. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

My shift in mood must be evident, because he doesn't say anything else. Dammit. I know I blew it, because now there's an uncomfortable silence between us that I'm choosing to ignore. I look around, trying to collect names and faces, to start conversations with different people.

Rhiannon from sixth period. Jason from fourth grade. Neal from American History, last year. Millie from Study Hall. Reed Bishop, from—

Wait a second, Reed Bishop?

Yeah, he's there. Right across from me, his face aglow with the firelight and tousled hair somewhat tamed under a ragged baseball cap. Our eyes meet, and he smiles with a small wave before turning to his friend, chiming in on a conversation.

A warm feeling fills me as I watch him, talking animatedly with his hands, throwing his head back in laughter when someone makes a retort that I cannot hear. There's talk all around me, but I've ruined my conversation with Greg, and Georgina is so caught up in what must be an absolutely enthralling story told by Hale Forrester, leaving me to my own whims.

And then, thank God, someone interrupts all the talking with an announcement.

"Let's play a game!" some guy on the other side of the fire pit says, the one next to Reed. Other voices chime in, agreeing to the notion.

Hale shakes his head, turning away from Georgie as he says,

"Okay? What do you guys think?"

There's a murmuring, and suddenly my stomach clenches up, worried that someone will start up Spin the Bottle, or some other kissing game that leads to a) embarrassment and b) potential herpes.

But then someone offers up something called "Confession Circle", and although it requires no physical contact, I don't like the sound of it.

As it turns out, the game is played exactly like the title implies—the group sits in a circle, and one by one, they make a confession. A secret, an embarrassing story, anything cringe-worthy at all. And if they refuse, they have to tell two, doubling the amount of embarrassment.

We start to play, and as people begin to speak, my stomach ties itself up in knots, my mind racing. What am I going to say? What if it's not embarrassing enough? What if they think I'm a loser?

Calmdowncalmdowncalmdown. I try to slow my heart rate, watching as others begin to confess.

"I made out with a guy at the zoo once, in front of the monkey enclosure," a girl says, with a shudder. "And right while we were about to break apart, a monkey flung its own—feces—through the fence. It got all over us."

There's a large chorus of "ohhh"s, and several girls yelp, shaking their heads. A collective laugh goes around, and I'm surprised to find myself joining in, because it's funny and I feel kind of bad for her.

So I just have to tell a funny, embarrassing story. I don't have many of those, but I can handle it better than a deep, dark secret.

And then things begin to take a turn.

"I got arrested once," says someone, and the entire crowd goes quiet. Slowly, tentatively, others begin to chime in, their secrets much darker than intended.

"I used to starve myself."

"I'm still in love with the girl I dumped."

"My mom died, and I don't know how to deal with it."

Everyone begins to look at each other. Hale seems uncomfortable and shocked at the turn of events, and even though there are still humorous stories sprinkled between the not-so-humorous ones ("I loudly farted in Mr. Hernandez's class once", "My dog had to get surgery because it couldn't stop peeing", and so forth), there's a new mood in the air. A heavier one.

Hale clears his throat and tries for a smile now that it's his turn.

"I have a crush on a girl, and she may or may not be here."

All eyes fly to Georgie, whose face is beet-red with embarrassment. I bite back a triumphant grin.

I knew it.

When it comes to be her turn, she shakes her head and says,

"Um...I have a crush on a guy, and he may or may not be here."

There's a raucous, collective surge of noise, and the two exchange glances with shy smiles. Due to the sudden noise, I say my confession quickly, so that no one even hears it.

"I have a crush on a guy, too."

There it is. Said out loud. Although all the attention's on Georgie and Hale, who are laughing and closer than ever before, no one has heard me, and now it's Greg's turn and no one even regards me.

Greg clears his throat loudly, and it silences everyone long enough for him to say,

"I was having a really nice conversation with a girl who is really pretty, and then she stone-cold rejected me."

I feel my stomach drop a thousand feet, and I avert my gaze, hoping that no one notices my sudden disinterest in the game. Luckily, they don't, and there's a chorus of "ouch" and "damn". Greg laughs, waving them off, and I feel his gaze slide over to me. I ignore him.

Jesus Christ, I didn't reject him, I think, but the anxiety gnawing away at my stomach forces me to think otherwise. Did I?

Suddenly, the mood is much lighter again, and more stories are swapped, and the people who made deep, dark confessions aren't given a second thought. I release a breath, thinking back to my confession, spoken but fallen upon deaf ears.

What if someone had heard? Would they have known? Would he have known?

No. Of course not.

So I fall into silence and watch as the people around me are brought to life by their own stories, and in a secluded moment that I am able to have to myself, I wonder what it might have been like. If he had heard. If he had known.

If he felt the same way.