![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
LJ Idol, Week 14: Topic: Campfire Stories
Apr. 7th, 2017 05:28 pmJuly sun, frayed denim cut-off shorts and short-sleeved rugby shirts:
one with blue stripes, one with yellow stripes, but my favorite is the one with red stripes,
and my t-shirt with the graphic of an alligator wearing a person shirt.
Everyone thinks that's the best top ever.
I'm ready for camp.
A commissary stand selling stamps, post cards and candy bars, plus a soda machine right next door.
old pull-taps dropped in haste on the ground by the window. Remember to always wear shoes when you walk around here.
Mom takes photos of me by the gate before my parents drive away down the gravel road
which leads back to the AAA Highway.
The days will fly by.
A chlorinated pool, wide, blue and beckoning. My team won the relay on Olympics Night.
A softball field with red dirt and freshly-drawn base lines.
I caught my first fly ball in front of everybody one day.
Grilled cheese, tomato soup and "bug juice"in the dining lodge,
where the counselors do mail call at lunch.
Mom and Grandma write every day.
Racing down paths in my new blue Adidas,
a gift from my grandma before I left home.
I miss her.
Making necklaces with strips of leather.
Finding fossils in the creek.
Playing Oh-Wha-Tay-Goo-Siam with the littler kids,
and going to the campfires every night with the bigger kids.
Red sparks twirl upward above orange flames, and the smoke smells woodsy.
We sing Kumbaya.
A super-tall boy who looks like a track star wants to sit by me.
His hair is dark; I think his eyes are blue, but I can't be sure in the fire light.
His name is Patrick.
He says he is Irish, and it's cool to be Irish,
but I am adopted, so I wouldn't know about that,
but I fake it to fit in. "I'm Irish on my mom's side," I tell him.
I want Patrick to like me.
I've never seen such a handsome young man in my life except for pictures of teen stars like Robbie Benson and David Cassidy on the pages of Tiger Beat Magazine.
Every evening Patrick and I sit together at the campfire
except for the one night it rains, and everyone goes to the lodge,
and he seeks me out and we talk some more.
He's in drama club at school and got good grades in Spanish 1.
Our little brothers are the same age, and they are annoying and immature.
He likes my alligator-wearing-a-person-shirt t-shirt.
His grandma died last year.
He shares his roll of Lifesavers with me. Strawberry flavor is now my favorite candy.
He walks me back to the area where the girls' cabins are, but he does not cross the line.
He's good about the rules,
so he holds me close and kisses me secretly, and I think I'm in love
because Patrick the tall, blue-eyed, brown haired Irish guy who runs track and acts in school plays likes me more than any other girl,
and that's never happened before.
And we taste like strawberry candy...
Summer Camp is my Heaven, and I never want to go home.
one with blue stripes, one with yellow stripes, but my favorite is the one with red stripes,
and my t-shirt with the graphic of an alligator wearing a person shirt.
Everyone thinks that's the best top ever.
I'm ready for camp.
A commissary stand selling stamps, post cards and candy bars, plus a soda machine right next door.
old pull-taps dropped in haste on the ground by the window. Remember to always wear shoes when you walk around here.
Mom takes photos of me by the gate before my parents drive away down the gravel road
which leads back to the AAA Highway.
The days will fly by.
A chlorinated pool, wide, blue and beckoning. My team won the relay on Olympics Night.
A softball field with red dirt and freshly-drawn base lines.
I caught my first fly ball in front of everybody one day.
Grilled cheese, tomato soup and "bug juice"in the dining lodge,
where the counselors do mail call at lunch.
Mom and Grandma write every day.
Racing down paths in my new blue Adidas,
a gift from my grandma before I left home.
I miss her.
Making necklaces with strips of leather.
Finding fossils in the creek.
Playing Oh-Wha-Tay-Goo-Siam with the littler kids,
and going to the campfires every night with the bigger kids.
Red sparks twirl upward above orange flames, and the smoke smells woodsy.
We sing Kumbaya.
A super-tall boy who looks like a track star wants to sit by me.
His hair is dark; I think his eyes are blue, but I can't be sure in the fire light.
His name is Patrick.
He says he is Irish, and it's cool to be Irish,
but I am adopted, so I wouldn't know about that,
but I fake it to fit in. "I'm Irish on my mom's side," I tell him.
I want Patrick to like me.
I've never seen such a handsome young man in my life except for pictures of teen stars like Robbie Benson and David Cassidy on the pages of Tiger Beat Magazine.
Every evening Patrick and I sit together at the campfire
except for the one night it rains, and everyone goes to the lodge,
and he seeks me out and we talk some more.
He's in drama club at school and got good grades in Spanish 1.
Our little brothers are the same age, and they are annoying and immature.
He likes my alligator-wearing-a-person-shirt t-shirt.
His grandma died last year.
He shares his roll of Lifesavers with me. Strawberry flavor is now my favorite candy.
He walks me back to the area where the girls' cabins are, but he does not cross the line.
He's good about the rules,
so he holds me close and kisses me secretly, and I think I'm in love
because Patrick the tall, blue-eyed, brown haired Irish guy who runs track and acts in school plays likes me more than any other girl,
and that's never happened before.
And we taste like strawberry candy...
Summer Camp is my Heaven, and I never want to go home.
