Acting Out (14 page)

“Oh, that's
World of Warcraft.
It's an online game. You play it with other people online, and tons of people are really into it. Some even get addicted.”

Courtney let out a sigh. “Okay, thanks. At least I know what the heck he's talking about now.” She walked off, and I went back to Lance.

But then less than two minutes later, Mei found me because
she
had a question. “Hey, JD—what's FPS?”

“That's first-person shooter. It's a game where you see everything through a character's eyes, but you don't actually see the character himself. The other type is third-person shooter. In those games you can see the character onscreen,” I explained.

“Oh, I get it. Thanks!” Then Mei looked over to where Lance was sitting and said, “Hey, Lance, JD says you're a . . .” She looked at me with a wicked grin on her face, and my heart stopped. “Nice guy!” she yelled before she walked away. I took a deep breath and waited for my heart to start up again. I knew she was just teasing me, but it still freaked me out.

“Want to go out on the porch?” asked Lance when I walked over to him. “It's really hard to talk over the music. And don't worry. I won't take one step off the porch tonight.” He held up his hands like he was surrendering.

“Okay, sure,” I said. We went outside, but the second we were through the doors I regretted it. Brandon Matheson was out here with a group of Crockett counselors.

I spun around and almost knocked Lance down as he walked up behind me. “Oh, sorry. You know what? I need to get a drink first.”

We went back inside and headed for the refreshment table. Lauren came running up to me. “Hey, this really works! I asked this guy what his favorite video games were, and he's been talking to me all night. And he's a pretty good dancer!” Then she took off to find her dancing gamer.

Well, at least Lauren was having a great night. So far Lance and I hadn't danced even one time. I had to get him to dance to at least a couple of fast songs before I could try to convince him to slow dance.

“Good song, huh?” I yelled at him when a Black Eyed Peas song started up. It was really loud. “I actually like to dance to this song. Do you want to . . .?”

Lance looked at me and shook his head. “Uh, no thanks. I really can't dance at all.”

“Oh, I can't either really, but my friend Lauren—you know the one with the blond hair? She showed us a couple of . . .” Just then Mei walked past me with a guy and made a fish-lips face at me.

Lance saw her and laughed. “What's wrong with your friend?”

“She's . . . uh, she has asthma. She makes that face sometimes. I guess it helps her breathe better.” Okay, that was the last straw. That girl was getting no more video game info out of me tonight.

“You ready to go outside now?” Lance asked.

That depends. Is Brandon Matheson out there waiting to talk my ear off?

“Are you sure you don't want to dance just one time? Come on. Just one dance.” I took his arm and sort of dragged him out on the floor.

“I hate this,” Lance groaned. “I'm going to look really stupid.”

“Oh, you, me, and fifty other people,” I assured him. We were moving to the music when a bunch of people started yelling by the refreshment table.

“What is that all about?” Lance asked, stopping to watch.

“Don't worry about it,” I told him, but Lance and everyone around us had all stopped to gawk at Kelly Hedges and Reb Callison screaming their heads off at each other. It was so bad a counselor came and dragged them out.

“Wicked! I love watching girls fight!” said Lance.

Great. Brandon Matheson, gaming consultations, and now a fight. What next? A flood and a couple of plagues?

“Forget about them. Just listen to the music,” I told him. Lance did manage to dance with me a little after that, but then he wanted to sit down again.

So we did. And for the next half hour, we didn't move out of those seats. When the slow songs started, we kept talking. But I didn't have the nerve to ask Lance to get up and dance with me. I knew he didn't really want to. But I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed about slow dancing in general, or if he didn't want to slow dance with
me.
If I were cute like Courtney or little like Mei, then would he have wanted to? Was any boy ever going to like me for myself? If I was JD around my friends, should I be JD around boys, too? Or someone else? And who? Who should I be?

Pretty soon the dance was over, and all the boys were walking out. “Bye, JD! It was fun talking to you,” Lance said, right before he walked out of my life forever.

“Bye, see ya later,” I told him. But I probably wouldn't. I felt bad for using him at the first dance. All I'd cared about was impressing everyone with how cool I was. But what good did it do making everyone think we'd been kissing when nothing had happened?

Maybe one day I'd get a real kiss from a real boy. Maybe then I wouldn't care what everyone else thought about me. I'd only care what I thought about myself.

Hi everyone!

Thanks for the e-mails. I love getting mail!! Swim class is going great. We take the final test on Wed and I'm pretty sure I'll pass. Guess what? I'm going to be in the talent show in three more days! My Cabin picked me to be in it. All my friends think I'm really funny. I've
got a great

I'm not sure what I'll do for an act, but it'll be funny.

I'm going to fall flat on my face and embarrass myself in front of the whole camp then everyone will find out I'm not funny I'm a fake nobody even knows my

Tell Justin
I hate his guts
cause he hasn't written me one stinKing time all month!! HES NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS PROBLE

I crumpled up the paper and stuck it under my pillow. Then I rolled over so I was facing the wall. Since it was rest hour, I didn't have to talk to anyone. I could just lie on my bunk and act like I was asleep.

I had a headache. And a chest ache. It felt tense and tight, and it had been like that all day. All through breakfast, through swim class, through lunch. The talent show was three days away, and I still had no idea what I was going to do for it.

Then I got two e-mails in my mailbox after lunch, one from Mom and Dad, one from Adam. But nothing from Justin, of course. Why would he bother to write me?

The bell rang, and everyone got up from their bunks and started moving around. I kept my eyes shut and tried to make my face relax.

“Is she asleep?” someone whispered. It sounded like Michelle, but it might've been Amber.

A floorboard creaked and a trunk lid opened, then closed. I heard someone tiptoe over to my bunk. I could feel someone standing by the edge of my bed.

“JD? It's time to go to activities.” A hand patted me on the back.

I thought about faking it and acting like I was still asleep, but I didn't want to overdo it. Campers never took naps during rest hour, only counselors. “Naps are my favorite college elective,” Michelle had told us once.

I sat up and blinked. Michelle was standing on her tiptoes, looking up at me in my top bunk. “I don't feel well,” I said, making my voice sound scratchy. Courtney and Lauren were watching me. Amber sat on her bunk, pulling on her riding boots.

“Are you sick too?” Michelle asked. Meredith had gone to the infirmary yesterday. There was some kind of virus going around.

“I don't know. Maybe.” I wanted to get out of afternoon activities, but I also wanted to avoid a trip to the infirmary.

Michelle put her hand on my forehead. “I don't think you have a fever.”

I shook my head. “No, I don't have a fever. I just feel so
tired.”
I fell back on my bunk and rubbed my eyes.

“We did have a really hard class this morning,” murmured Courtney so Alex wouldn't hear her from Side B. “We each had to rescue our partner. Then we swam
eight
laps.” It was the most we'd ever had to do.

“Maybe you should take it easy this afternoon,” said Michelle.

I nodded and rolled over.

“I hope you feel better,” Courtney whispered. I heard Michelle telling Alex I needed to sleep.

When the screen door banged shut for the last time, I kept still and waited to make sure everyone was gone. Then I sat up and looked around. I was so glad to be alone.

I pulled out the crumpled-up paper from under my pillow and tossed it toward the trash can by the door, but I didn't make it. Too bad, or that definitely would've been a three-pointer. I hopped down from my bunk and went to pick up the paper. I wadded it into a really tight ball and tossed it in.

I'd write to them later. Maybe tomorrow, when I felt better. When I wasn't so depressed. And worried.

Justin had a doctor's appt. today. He really is going to pull through all this and be just fine,
Mom had written in her e-mail. It sounded like she was trying to convince herself instead of me. Adam didn't even mention Justin. I wondered if they were still fighting with each other all the time, or even worse, not speaking at all. For a long time Justin wouldn't even talk to Adam; he blamed him for what happened.

A whole month at camp was a good break for me, but camp was over on Saturday. Then I'd go back home to . . . everything.

I climbed back up on my top bunk and stretched out. It was sunny outside, but inside the cabin, it was always shady and kind of dark. There was a warm, piney smell coming in through the window screens, and insects were making buzzing noises outside.

My old name tag was lying on the shelf next to my bunk. We hadn't worn these in weeks, because we all knew each other now. I picked it up and looked at it.

JD.
The other side was just a dark red smudge where I'd marked it out. I couldn't see the
JUDITH
at all. But I knew it was there. I held the name tag by the string and flicked the little oval slice of wood with my finger. It spun around.
JD
. Smudge.
JD
. Smudge.

What if I'd just been myself? What if I hadn't pretended to be something I wasn't? What would camp have been like for Judith, instead of JD?

“Judith. Judith. Judith Duckworth.” It felt funny to say my name out loud. “Judith, how did you manage to screw up your life so much?”

In three more days JD was going to get up onstage and have absolutely nothing to do.

What happened, JD? We thought you were funny.

Sorry, you were wrong. Oh, and by the way, the name's Judith.

I hung my name tag around my neck with the smudge side facing out. That was all I was. A smudge. A nobody.

Then I covered my head with my pillow and started to bawl.

When I heard the screen door open, I wiped my nose. I'd stopped crying by that time, but I was still pretty sniffly. I lay still on my bed, facing the wall. I didn't really want anyone to see me like this.

From the footsteps, I could tell it was Amber. She tried to be quiet, but her riding boots clomped against the wooden floor. So I sat up and looked at her. “It's okay. I'm not really asleep.”

Amber's forehead wrinkled up when she saw me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I guess my face was all blotchy from crying.

Amber sat on her bunk and pulled off her boots. “Are you not feeling well, JD?”

I fell back on my bed. “No! I feel awful!” Then I couldn't help it. I started to cry again.

“Is there anything I can get you? Want me to walk you down to the infirmary?” she asked softly.

“No. I'm not sick. I'm just . . . having a bad day.” I needed a Kleenex. Michelle had a box beside her bed and I sat up and looked at them. Amber was a mind reader. She went over and pulled one out of the box and brought it to me.

“Thanks, Amber.” She was such a sweet girl, but our little Guard Start clique was always together, and nobody from our cabin ever hung out with her much. I knew she had friends—horsey friends. All the girls who took riding lessons were a clique of their own. But maybe Amber and I could've been close friends, if I hadn't overlooked her.