First Kisses: Trust Me - charlieboo97 (books to read for teens .txt) 📗

was tall with dark hair, and looked exactly like this guy in an Abercrombie ad. He was way older than us --- way out of our league, of course --- but that was okay. If we were honest with ourselves, he was another reason --- a major reason actually --- that we wanted to be counselors this summer. Counselors had a later curfew than campers. After we all were supposed to be in bed, we could hear the counselors outside our dorms laughing and talking, just loud enough to be heard but not understood. They had secrets and we wanted to be part of their secrets.
Another reason was Gorgeous George. He had shaggy blond hair and blue, blue eyes. We didn't want either one of them to view us as kids any longer.
"Maybe we didn't notice what they were wearing because we were too busy studying their faces," I said. I pulled out a scarf that had red, white, and blue swirling through it. Talk about patriotic. I could use it as a belt.
"They?" Liz asked.
"Cute Casey and Gorgeous George."
"Oh, right, and don't forget Hot Hank."
It was a game we'd played last year, identifying the counselor with a word that began with his name. We'd done the same thing with the girl counselors, but we weren't nearly as complimentary. Crazy Claire --- she hated the outdoors and was always finding reasons for us to stay indoors. It was crazy to come to Camp Lone Star if you didn't like the outdoors because the only time we were indoors during the day was when it rained. Moaning Mary --- she moaned about the heat, the rain, the bugs. Patient Paula --- she was never in a hurry, which meant if you got her for a counselor, you were the last in line for everything.
It wasn't that we didn't like them or tried to find fault with them, but they were competition. And I have kind of a competitive nature. The girl counselors held the attention of the guy counselors a lot more easily than lowly campers did.
This summer would be totally different. We would be sure of it. For one thing, we would be counselors. For another, we'd come better prepared. We'd brought these cute American Eagle visors, lots of short tops, and low-riding jeans and shorts.
It didn't take us long to add some flair to our outfits. Liz wore a red tank top beneath her brown shirt, whil I wore the camisole. We'd unbuttoned the shirts, gathered the shirttails, and tied them at our waist. Then we'd rolled up our shorts until they were mid-thigh.
"When we have more time, we'll have to cut and hem these babies," Liz said. "I'm so not going to start high school in the fall with a half-tanned leg."
"I know. This uniform is the worst. It still needs major surgery." And we could only take accessorizing so far. "Remember the crafts we did with beads last summer?" I asked.
"Absolutely! Are you thinking---?"
"We could cut the sleeves into strips---"
"Braid the strips---"
"Thread them through the beads. Add some color, some pizzazz."
"I like it!" we both said at the same time, following our mind-reading session.
"Think we can do it before we head to the meeting?" Liz asked.
I glanced at my watch. IT was actually my dad's, on loan for the summer. It was really way too big for my narrow wrist, but Dad had punched extra holes in the wristband so it wouldn't slip off. It had all kinds of gadgets. A compass --- he worried about me getting lost in the woods. A face that lit up with the flick of my wrist --- he worried about me getting lost in the dark. A button that would take me through the various time zones, just incase I ended up in London or Australia and needed to know the time. As if.
"We have only a couple of minutes before we need to report." I looked in the mirror that was on the back of the door that led into the bathroom. "I think we have a fashion statement going here that'll do for now."
I'd gathered my strawberry-blond hair into a ponytail and pulled it through the hole at the back of the brown baseball cap that has CLS embroidered in red on the front. I really wanted to toss the hat into my footlocker and grab my visor, but I figured we were pushing the limits on rebellion enough already.
Liz had also pulled her red hair through the back of her cap. She was several inches taller than me. Most people are. I tried not to be bothered by that, but sometimes I couldn't help it. I wished I was taller.
White socks and hiking boots completed our outfits.
"Are we ready to rock?" I asked.
"As ready as we'll ever be," Liz said.


Chapter 2

We headed out the door. Towering oak trees circled the encampment. I could smell the scent of dirt and dampness and vegetation --- nature as a whole. Several wooden cabins made up the camp. The main building was where registration took place. The nurse's station was also located inside. Then a couple of cabins where the campers were housed had been built nearby. A lead counselor slept in each cabin, to be on hand for emergencies or homesickness and to keep campers indoors after lights-out.
Liz and I were Counselors-in-Training. Otherwise known as CITs. We'd live in the dormitory with other CITs. Which was fine with me. I didn't particularly want to look after a dozen kids through the night. I was hoping to spend some of the evening looking after my love life.
Speaking of.....
I pulled my cell phone out of my shorts pocket. Its display was flashing, NO SIGNAL.
"Still no luck?" Liz asked.
"Nope. I wonder why we never realized that cell phones couldn't get a signal out here," I stated.
"Maybe because we never had cell phones before."
We'd both recently turned fourteen, me two weeks before Liz. We'd both asked for the same thing for our birthday. Cell phones. Big surprise. Having the ability to constantly keep in touch with our friends was such a must. Text messaging was also the absolute best, and we had the code down long before we could put it to use.
I'd had visions of text messaging a guy counselor, "U R 2 CUTE." Yeah, right, like I'd ever be that bold.
My vast experience at communicating with guys mostly involved my brother, who was six years younger than me. Our conversations usually began with him whining, "I'm gonna tell Mom."
And my witty response: "Whatever."
I needed to seriously develop my flirtation skills --- like figuring out what guys found interesting and what they wanted to talk about --- and my brother was so not good practice material.
"Maybe once we go hiking, get farther away from camp, I'll be able to pick up a signal," I suggested hopefully, although I was beginning to suspect that the camp had been built in the one place that the Verizon-can-you-hear-me-now? guy had yet to visit.
Liz shook her head. "We're in the middle of nowhere. We should have expected this."
Or as my dad said, we were "on the farside of nowhere," which he seemed to think was worse than being in the middle of nowhere. I sorta figured nowhere was nowhere and it didn't have map coordinates. You were just there. Nowhere.
"I think I'm going into cell phone withdrawal," I said, only half jokingly. My dad had constantly teased me for the last couple months that my hand was permanently curled in cell-phone-holding position. Of course, he said Mom's hand was permanently curled in credit-card-holding position.
"I'm already there," Liz said. her phone wasn't getting a signal either.
Evern though Liz was the person I called most, and we would be side by side most of the summer, we'd planned to use our phones for communicating on the sly.
QT 2 R = Cutie to the right.
QT 2 L = Cutie to the left.
I angled the phone and snapped a picture of Liz. At least the camera still worked. My dad was all about gadgets. No way was he going to get me a plain old cell phone for my birthday. Like my dad, I saw the value in multifunctional products. I intended to take lots of pictures, so bringing the cell phone along wasn't a total waste.
As Liz and I approached the main office building, we spotted a group of people milling around in front. Judging by their uniforms, they were all CITs. None were the counselors from last year, although I did recognize some people how had been campers during previous summers. I guess everyone had the idea of moving up to better things.
"I wonder where Cute Casey is," Liz whispered.
I shrugged. "He's already trained. Maybe this week it's just the newbies."
"Right." She scowled.
I watched her freckles scrunch up. With red hair comes freckles. When we were a lot younger --- and really bored --- we would use a Sharpie to connect the freckles on her arms to create pictures. So whenever I looked at her cheek really closely now, I always saw a kite that I'd drawn by connecting freckles. Actually, kites were pretty much all I'd ever seen and drawn. It's fairly easy to see a kite in freckles. Does that make me unimaginative?
I didn't want to contemplate that it might, since being a counselor meant coming up with creative ways to keep the campers occupied and away from the boredom zone.
"But if the older counselors aren't here, who's going to train us?" Liz asked me. Obviously her scowl had represented her thinking face.
"I'm sure someone will."
"Hey!" A couple of girls had turned, noticed us, and hurried over. We'd met them last summer. Caryn and Torie --- Victoria, according to the name embroidered on her shirt. They'd shared a cabin with us and participated in our makeover session.
We didn't have much time to catch up on the exciting things