different. Something heavy weighed on his mind as we headed back down the path that lead to my cabin.
This time he was the one silent, lost in his own thoughts.
“Thanks for this. It really was a nice. So were the s’mores.” I said, my voice speeding up. “I’ve always thought a real camp needs s’mores. I don’t camp and even I know it’s tradition. The healthy food rule is great, but that’s why Kenzie snuck in her booze and candy stash. Better for the kids and the staff, sure, but has the occasional pop-tart ever killed anyone, I ask you?” I was nervous and blathering. They tended to go hand in hand.
We clomped along the darkened path, lit by starlight and the occasional solar lantern, with Troy uttering the occasional response out of politeness more than really engaging in conversation. Not sure what changed, but I wished we could change it back to where he’d wanted to kiss me, and I’d so desperately wanted him to. The night air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, campfires, and regret.
“Culinary arts. That’s what’s missing from this school.” I prattled on. “Or maybe that’s not really creative enough?” I glanced at him sideways. “What do you think? Is food art?”
He shrugged stiffly. “I think creativity is a way to express what you’re going through. The medium doesn’t matter. It’s freedom, for those who'll take it. Some people won't. Some can't, but you... you're different. You have fears that run so deep you have to let them out before they consume you.”
Again I was hit by the sharp curve in the conversation. I was keeping things light and loose, he was delving into my psyche. “If you mean imaginary fears then yeah, I have loads of them.”
“Fears aren't imaginary Nora, they’re real. Like dreams. They’re messages and experiences from the other side.”
“The other side?”
“Well, that’s not the technical term.”
“So what is the technical term? I have a decent GPA, I can keep up.”
“Parallel universes that run concurrently with ours. This life is only fraction of what we are living. A sliver of what is possible for us to live. And every thought, wish, dream and nightmare is merely a reflection of one of those other lives.”
I stopped walking. It took a few steps for him to realize and look back at me, a question in his expression.
Boasting about my intellect fell short now that my mouth gaped open like a fool.
He watched my reaction closely for a beat, then he chuckled. “Just one of the wild theories I studied in London.”
Slowly I nodded. “At the witchcraft school.”
“At the center for paranormal research,” he corrected.
“Hmm—” I started walking again, this time keeping a bit more distance between us as we entered the main path through the camp. Torch lamps hung from wooden posts lit our way, casting a soft pale glow over the ground and trees, and dimming the starlight.
A group of fourteen-year-old girls raced by us giggling and ogling Troy. One shouted, "Sasha loves you Troy!"
I cocked a brow, amused. “And which one is Sasha?”
“The one with the flower behind her ear.” He said, without looking at them.
I glanced back at the group of girls as they disappeared around the bend. One small timid girl with acne and jean shorts, had a yellow daisy tucked behind her ear. Just like the ones I'd seen sitting on Troy’s desk. There was something touching about a guy like him who would take the time to give a flower to a shy little girl with a crush. Sasha and I had a lot in common.
“Well, this place doesn't look like it has much to offer in that department. I mean, haven’t come across any paranormal monsters under the bed yet.” I smiled.
“There aren’t any. Other than the ones hiding in the dark corners of our mind. And they tend to walk through the front door.”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. This was the third dream reference. Did he know about my dreams? How Darcy and I were in love and
This time he was the one silent, lost in his own thoughts.
“Thanks for this. It really was a nice. So were the s’mores.” I said, my voice speeding up. “I’ve always thought a real camp needs s’mores. I don’t camp and even I know it’s tradition. The healthy food rule is great, but that’s why Kenzie snuck in her booze and candy stash. Better for the kids and the staff, sure, but has the occasional pop-tart ever killed anyone, I ask you?” I was nervous and blathering. They tended to go hand in hand.
We clomped along the darkened path, lit by starlight and the occasional solar lantern, with Troy uttering the occasional response out of politeness more than really engaging in conversation. Not sure what changed, but I wished we could change it back to where he’d wanted to kiss me, and I’d so desperately wanted him to. The night air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, campfires, and regret.
“Culinary arts. That’s what’s missing from this school.” I prattled on. “Or maybe that’s not really creative enough?” I glanced at him sideways. “What do you think? Is food art?”
He shrugged stiffly. “I think creativity is a way to express what you’re going through. The medium doesn’t matter. It’s freedom, for those who'll take it. Some people won't. Some can't, but you... you're different. You have fears that run so deep you have to let them out before they consume you.”
Again I was hit by the sharp curve in the conversation. I was keeping things light and loose, he was delving into my psyche. “If you mean imaginary fears then yeah, I have loads of them.”
“Fears aren't imaginary Nora, they’re real. Like dreams. They’re messages and experiences from the other side.”
“The other side?”
“Well, that’s not the technical term.”
“So what is the technical term? I have a decent GPA, I can keep up.”
“Parallel universes that run concurrently with ours. This life is only fraction of what we are living. A sliver of what is possible for us to live. And every thought, wish, dream and nightmare is merely a reflection of one of those other lives.”
I stopped walking. It took a few steps for him to realize and look back at me, a question in his expression.
Boasting about my intellect fell short now that my mouth gaped open like a fool.
He watched my reaction closely for a beat, then he chuckled. “Just one of the wild theories I studied in London.”
Slowly I nodded. “At the witchcraft school.”
“At the center for paranormal research,” he corrected.
“Hmm—” I started walking again, this time keeping a bit more distance between us as we entered the main path through the camp. Torch lamps hung from wooden posts lit our way, casting a soft pale glow over the ground and trees, and dimming the starlight.
A group of fourteen-year-old girls raced by us giggling and ogling Troy. One shouted, "Sasha loves you Troy!"
I cocked a brow, amused. “And which one is Sasha?”
“The one with the flower behind her ear.” He said, without looking at them.
I glanced back at the group of girls as they disappeared around the bend. One small timid girl with acne and jean shorts, had a yellow daisy tucked behind her ear. Just like the ones I'd seen sitting on Troy’s desk. There was something touching about a guy like him who would take the time to give a flower to a shy little girl with a crush. Sasha and I had a lot in common.
“Well, this place doesn't look like it has much to offer in that department. I mean, haven’t come across any paranormal monsters under the bed yet.” I smiled.
“There aren’t any. Other than the ones hiding in the dark corners of our mind. And they tend to walk through the front door.”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. This was the third dream reference. Did he know about my dreams? How Darcy and I were in love and
Similar Books
