Making Problems
"I think she needs help, Quentin. I can help her."
"She seems pretty chill to me, Phoebe. She's shy, but that's no biggie."
"No, no way. She's totally shy. Too shy for her own good. I know she ran out to hide in the woods for a while, and that's fine, but I don't think she's spoken to really anyone in camp. It's really worrisome."
"She's talked to me and Chloe and Elka and Crystal and Elton. Yeah, she hung around me all invisible, too. I kept feeling her hand on my shoulder the whole time, so I knew it was her."
"But did you invite her over or did she just pop up like she usually does?"
"Uh, well, I was spooked when she grabbed my shoulder the first time, but it was chill the second time."
The crayon in her hand stilled. Milka kept her gaze aligned with her drawing of Elton. The bristling conversation between Quentin and Phoebe had been background noise filtered between their music. All she wanted to do was peacefully draw her new crush, but their discussion turned into one about her.
From her investigations, Phoebe was a sincere meddler. She interfered with arguments and attempted to sort out personal problems. Elka frequently vented to Phoebe about Nils, and with a smile, Phoebe offered solutions. Although, Milka was certain Elka never bothered to try anything Phoebe suggested from how she continued lamenting her woes.
On the other hand, Quentin was Milka's former crush. He was a genuinely kind, yet obtuse boy. A mean bone never existed in his body. He was courteous and relaxed, but he was not interested in her. Even though she felt a twinge of annoyance pricking at her heart from his disinterest, she was fine. She already said her piece online and understood his side as well.
Her main concern about Quentin was Kitty flaunting his confused obsession over her in front of Milka. Milka could handle taunting, but Kitty's consistent antagonism drove her to garner revenge. Dumping Kitty's expensive eyeliner into the lake was blissful retribution. Hearing Kitty shriek as the waves devoured the inky liquids stretched her smile further into her invisible cheeks. All she had to do now was avoid Kitty until camp was over.
The cymbals behind Milka clanged and abruptly halted her remembrance. Milka glanced over her shoulder, observing Phoebe grip her cymbals. Standing, Phoebe smoothed the creases in her camp shirt and set her drumsticks on her snare drum.
"I'm gonna talk to her. I think she needs someone to have a heart-to-heart. I mean, it's kind of unnatural to be that quiet," Phoebe asserted, and Quentin rolled his eyes. "What? What's that for?"
"Pheebs, Milka likes to be alone. That's, like, her thing. 'Sides, she's also chatted with you sometimes. She wants to do stuff on her own terms, y'know?" Quentin replied. He scratched a record, continuing to play as he spoke. "Let's keep practicing. The Levitators gotta keep their groove goin' strong."
"First of all, Firestarters," Phoebe said, raising her finger, "and second of all, being quiet all the time could be a sign of problems like antisocial personality disorder. It's what I read in a book Milla gave me, so it must be true. Problems like that can't be ignored, Quentin."
Quentin shrugged, lifting his palms to the ceiling. "Well, okay. Just be chill about it. Oh, I know! I'll work on my Kitty song while you talk to her."
"Please, Quentin, don't," Phoebe urged only for Quentin to hoarsely rap to the sound of his modified beat. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.
Milka withheld her groan. She listened as Phoebe marched off the stage towards her. Her name rolled off Phoebe's tongue with careful sincerity. Milka sighed. Turning invisible and dashing off would only lead to further scrutiny or evidence for an illness. She did not want Phoebe to track her down and pin personal problems onto her. Like a statue, she remained and stared ahead as Phoebe came into view.
Phoebe slid into the wooden bench across from her. A practiced grin was on her face, and Milka did not reciprocate. Milka covered her drawing with both of her small hands. A fleeting feeling of embarrassment painted her cheeks.
"What're you drawing?" Phoebe asked, and Milka slowly pulled the drawing to her chest. Realizing her error, Phoebe shook her head. "Sorry if that was too personal. How are you doing today, Milka?"
Milka likened her situation to a strange therapy session. Her eyebrows raised, but she decided to play along. Phoebe had defended her against Kitty and Franke's bullying when she first arrived at Whispering Rock. She attempted to act like everyone's older sister regardless of their age. While Milka heard the rumors concerning Phoebe's burning desires and privately confirmed them, Phoebe was never outwardly cruel to anyone. She seemed to genuinely care about others compared to the Phoebe created from rumors.
"Fine," Milka replied with a bob her head.
"Good! I'm glad to hear that," Phoebe chirped, enthusiasm clinging to each word. "So, I know you've been kind of by yourself mostly, and that's okay. I'm just letting you know that if you wanna talk about anything all, and I mean anything, I'm here for you."
Milka hummed. "Thanks. That's nice of you."
Phoebe beamed. Her back straightened, and she stroked through her curly hair. "Oh, it's my pleasure. I mean, when I'm a Psychonaut, I'll be helping a lot of people. Say, do you wanna be a Psychonaut, Milka?"
"I haven't really thought about it. Maybe?" Milka offered, crossing her arms. Noticing her drawing wrinkled, she fidgeted with the creases and placed her artwork in her lap.
"Cool. There's no rush. You've got plenty of time to think about it." Phoebe sighed, resting her hand against her cheek. "So, anything been on your mind lately?"
The question lingered. Milka tapped her chin as if deep in thought, and Phoebe leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. The sound of burgers landing on the grill mixed with Quentin's off-key rapping. As those noises intermingled, Milka closed her eyes.
"Well, I guess there is one thing," she slowly began, reopening her eyes with subdued innocence.
"What's that?" Phoebe asked, edging closer to the table. Her violet eyes sparkled with delighted interest. She wished she had her clipboard to jot down Milka's concerns but focused on Milka fidgeting with a lock of her hair.
"I'm really, well, anxious," Milka said, twiddling her thumbs. "When people come to close, I'll turn invisible. It's all reflexive, too."
"Anxious? Okay! We can work on that," Phoebe exclaimed, reaching over and cupping Milka's chilled hands. "I know just the perfect ways to work on anxiety. It is social anxiety?"
"Uh, yeah. Social anxiety," she said with a curt nod.
"Anything else?"
Milka leaned back and gazed at the fluorescent lights above them. She spotted the voodoo doll resting on one of the wooden pillars. The lonely doll sparked another idea. Crossing her legs underneath the table, Milka said, "I guess I'm a little too antisocial, too."
"I knew it-I mean, I understand!" Phoebe blurted, quickly shaking her head as if to disperse her words, and Milka briefly steeled her glare.
Regaining her confidence, Phoebe cleared her voice and firmly squeezed Milka's hands. The warming sensation soothed Milka's rigid hands, and Milka's eyes widened. Phoebe's temperate touch spread throughout her body like a blanket gently draping around her shoulders.
"Anxiety and antisocialness can be cured, Milka. I don't have my books with me to help with a proper cure, but here are some tips," Phoebe said, smiling. "Try to maintain eye contact with people. That will help initiate and maintain a conversation. It's also a good idea to be with a friend if you want to talk with someone new. A friend can help ease a conversation."
Milka nodded, entranced even though she was lying through her teeth. She felt guilt prick her skin, but Phoebe's earnesty and warmth smoothed over those sensations. Milka's lopsided smile etched itself onto her face.
"Thanks, Phoebe. That's really good advice," Milka said, and Phoebe brightened, withdrawing herself from Milka.
"I'm so glad! Great! Try out my advice today, and we can talk about it tomorrow. I gotta finish up band practice," Phoebe said, standing up. She pivoted around the bench and swiftly hugged Milka, patting her back.
Milka embraced her and swiftly parted. As Phoebe strode back over to Quentin and reprimanded him for his dissonant tune, Milka slouched. Heaving out a sigh, Milka spread her drawing back onto the table. She plucked an azure crayon and smiled as the comfortable background music resumed.