Chapter 8: Awkward Conversations

Every morning at 4, the campers wake up, eat breakfast, get their shovels, and head out to the lake. Peyton and I sleep in until 9 in the morning, giving us about an hour to get ready until one of us has to go out in the water truck.

The rules of digging holes are simple. You have to dig a hole five feet wide and five feet deep. Doesn't matter how long it takes or how tired you get, you don't give up until it's done. The shovel is your measuring stick. There are periodic breaks for water and lunch. You learn to dig quickly, because if you're slow, you'll end up digging in the early afternoon, the hottest part of the day. Watch out for rattlesnakes, scorpions, yellow spotted lizards, and Mr. Sir, and you're good to go.

Since the campers all have their own pacing with their holes, it was up to Peyton and I to entertain ourselves until they came back. There wasn't much to do; I mean, we had the TV, but it only got five channels, and most of the time it was just a bunch of soap operas. I had my books, but Peyton liked to converse with me when there weren't any boys to flirt with, so that didn't get done until the afternoon, where I would hide behind the Rec Room and get lost in whatever I was reading.

Dinner was always an interesting affair. We ate frozen dinners or microwave-friendly meals. Peyton wanted to eat with the boys, but Aunt Louise told her she'd have to eat what they ate, and while I can't say the food in the cabin was the best I've had, the food in the Mess Hall was definitely inedible. Peyton may have been an honorary camper, but she wasn't about to try and stomach five different types of canned beans.

The new kid didn't tell me his name; Pendanski said it when I went out with the truck. "How's your first day, Stanley? Those blisters will go away eventually. Don't you worry."

I kept the brim of my hat turned down. I couldn't explain it, but I was a little...shy in his presence. It was like I'd forgotten that I'd snapped at him the day before, that I'd helped him up off the ground and tried to show him a little bit of kindness. I was acting as if he'd done all that for me, and not the other way around.

He didn't say anything to me, and he didn't try to grab my attention, which was fine with me. I might have told Peyton I'd try to be friendly, but that didn't mean I had to do it right then.

However, fate had other plans. At least, that's how I like to think of it.

By the time dinner rolled around, Stanley was nowhere in sight. I was thinking maybe he'd been bitten by something, or he'd run away.

"He's still out there," Mr. Sir mumbled. "Slowest digger I ever saw."

As an extra precaution, someone from D-Tent had to go out and make sure he was okay.

The campers didn't even bat an eye, and Pendanski complained of a headache. Which meant it came down to Peyton and me. She gave me a sly glance, patting me on the shoulder. "I'll let you take this one, Trix," was all she said.

And that was that.

It was just me, the sand, and the holes. I trudged out onto the dried-up lake, trying to figure out what hole Stanley had dug. I hadn't even properly met him yet and I was already annoyed with him.

"Hello? Can someone help me? I'm done with my hole!" The pathetic sound of a first-timer was all it took to direct me to where I needed to go. And sure enough, there he was, struggling to get out of his hole. After a few seconds he managed to climb out, and he fell over, lying beside his hole and staring up at the sky.

He wore the standard orange jumpsuit the other campers wore, and an orange cap with a towel sewn to the back covered his sand-coated brown hair. He had largish teeth, too. I stood over him, which wigged him out.

"Having fun?"

He scrambled to his feet, and I finally got a good look at his eyes; they were big and green and…kind.

"It's okay," I said. "I was sent out here to check on you." I jerked my thumb behind me. "We'd better start back. It'll be dark pretty soon."

He just nodded and grappled for his shovel. "Who…who are you?" he asked.

Wow, we really hadn't been properly introduced. He didn't even know my name. Before I could think I blurted out, "Which name you want?"

He gave me a look. "Huh?"

I crossed my arms. "You want my camp name or the 'name society recognizes me by'?" I asked, quoting Pendanski.

"Oh, well…I meant…you're the...Warden's...?"

"The Warden's niece?" I finished. "Yep. One of them, at least. You met Peyton earlier, right?"

He nodded.

"You'll be seeing us around for a while," I explained. "We're here for a few more weeks. It's not exactly Disneyworld, but I guess I can make it work."

He laughed. His laugh was nice.

We started walking back, Stanley dragging his shovel behind him. For a few minutes, we stayed silent. I was waiting for him to say something, but I realized that I'd have to do so because maybe, just maybe, he was even more nervous than I was.

"You got a name or what?" I asked, even though I already knew. It would give us something to talk about.

He cleared his throat."I'm Stanley. Stanley Yelnats."

"No nickname?"

He shook his head. It took a while for a nickname to find a camper, so I wasn't too surprised.

In the silence that followed, I almost started to laugh. Here I was, talking to a guy I'd just met almost like we were friends. I was never this talkative with anyone except Peyton. And to talk to someone like this...and for him to be a boy...not to mention a delinquent...it was surreal. But...I liked it.

"So…what about you?" he asked after a minute.

"What about me?" I felt my cheeks grow warm, which was odd.

"What's your name?"

"Which one?"

He shrugged. "Whatever works for you."

For some reason, I didn't want to tell him my real name. Maybe I'd picked up something from Peyton's many years of flirting. "Bumblebee."

"Are you serious?" He gave me a look, and I immediately regretted saying it. But it was too late, so I had to go with it.

"I didn't come up with it."

Stanley didn't say anything. He thought it was lame, that much was obvious. He was going to never speak to me again after this. Which...was bothering me. Why was it bothering me?

"I know…" I sighed. "It's not a great name."

"Then…what's your real name?"

I tried to come up with something witty or Peyton-esque to say, but I found the truth coming out instead. "Beatrice. It's a little old-fashioned…but I like it." We had reached camp by that point. The sun had set behind the mountains.

"Well, you should probably go shower before it gets too late," I said. "And I'd better get back. It was nice meeting you, Stanley."

"You, too."

I turned to walk away.

"Wait!"

I turned to face him. "Yeah?"

He shuffled his feet nervously before looking right at me. "You never told me…what you want me to call you."

"Oh." I felt a smile spread across my face. "Well, around the other guys, Bumblebee or Bee would be the safest. But…if you catch me by myself…Beatrice is fine."

"Alright." He raised a hand and waved slightly, returning the smile. "I'll see you tomorrow...Beatrice."

I nodded and walked away, feeling his eyes on me the whole way back to the cabin.