Fictober Prompt 21: "What did I say?"

Lodge Gathering

"No, man, you don't need a semicolon. These ideas aren't really connected," Quentin said, pointing at the sentences in question.

"Oh, but they are. You see, when the lake monster ate me, I toppled into its dangling uvula, and that got me coated in saliva," Vernon said, "and when Lady licks my face, I get covered in saliva, too. So, same premise, different beasts."

Quentin appeared to ponder that for a moment, his head slowly bobbing up and down. From her spot on the stage, Phoebe leaned back in her seat and examined the lodge. Only three kids occupied it. Not even Chef Cruller was at his post flipping frigid patties. It seemed larger than usual without the surplus of children, giving it a cold feeling that Phoebe rather disliked. She rubbed her arms and straightened her posture, sighing as she ruminated on the day's events.

As if Kitty sinking her fangs into Quentin was bad enough, she had been captured by a mutated lungfish and forcibly sneezed out her brain. She still smoldered with the desire to burn the coach and that sinister dentist for what they did to her and her friends. But she could rest assured that the new kid was handling the situation far better than she would have. If she had been in the field, everything and everyone would have been charred to a crisp by now.

Phoebe flipped her drumsticks and glanced over to Quentin. When Vernon had arrived in the lodge while they practiced for the after party, she was thankful he had been quiet. That lasted an hour, sixty blissful minutes. He had come over with his manuscript drawn on a picture of Elton, which seemed to have been forgotten by Milka when she had left the lodge for the day. Vernon had asked if one of them could read his draft, and Quentin accepted much to Phoebe's surprise.

Sometimes, Quentin was too nice for his own good. It had been thirty minutes since he started reading over Vernon's draft. From what Phoebe heard, they were still on the first paragraph. Vernon argued against any edit Quentin suggested, and Phoebe reminded herself to never offer Vernon her therapeutic services.

A distraction came in the form of the front door opening. She tightened her grip on her drumsticks. If that lungfish wanted to go for a second round, then she was ready.

But it wasn't the monster. It was a couple that had broken up when she arrived at camp. Elka clung on to Nils' arm. A lipstick mark was pressed to Nils' cheek. He seemed far more confident than Phoebe liked, and Elka's incessant giggling had her tilting her head.

"Nils, I missed you so much. I'm glad we're together again. You have no idea how tired I was listening to JT's euphemisms," Elka said, only to suddenly gasp when she noticed the others. She quickly examined each one, then sighed, lowering her voice. "Oh, good. He's not here. I didn't want to see JT crushed by my admission, even if he deserves it."

"JT's a good guy, Elka. He's just, you know, not as exciting as me," Nils replied, and Elka chuckled. He guided her toward the television room, waving at Quentin and Vernon when they greeted him. Elka flashed them a quick, practiced smile.

Nils stopped when he reached the short staircase. Much to Phoebe's displeasure, he spotted her. Elka glared at him, Phoebe hoping she'd already know how little her interest was in Nils.

"Sup, Phoebe? Looking as hot as ever," he said, and Phoebe frowned, tapping her snare drum.

"Hey! Don't be insensitive, Nils. You know she has trouble with fire," Elka exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. She pushed Nils up the steps, saying, "Sorry about him, Phoebe. I'll be sure to keep him on a shorter leash."

"Wait, Elka, are you sure you want to go back to being in a relationship with him?" Phoebe asked, raising her eyebrows. "You two, uh, had a pretty messy break-up."

Elka sighed, pressing her free hand to her cheek. "Oh, we made amends. It was so romantic. He came crawling back to me after realizing he was wrong."

"Actually, I just walked up to her outside, and she started sobbing in my arms. She said JT left a really nasty note on the bulletin board about her," Nils interjected, only to wince when Elka punched his shoulder again. Phoebe heard it crack.

"We came to a mutual understanding that we both need to work on ourselves for our relationship to prosper. It was a genuine heart-to-heart," Elka insisted, her voice sharp. When she glanced at Nils, he stuck his finger up his nostril, and she sighed. "Well, mostly genuine. I still have to remind him to stop eating his boogers despite him being at an age where he knows better."

Nils gasped, appalled. "Hey, I don't eat them! I flick them. I'm not Franke."

Phoebe groaned. They were hopeless in a way that could have been remedied if she tried, but she decided to let them be. Elka seemed to have the situation under control for the moment. She was already dragging him up the stairs, Nils casting Phoebe a flirtatious glance that she promptly ignored. As Elka slammed the door shut behind them, Phoebe sighed and rapped her drumsticks on the rim of her snare drum.

She wondered if Quentin was finished helping Vernon. Lifting her head, she found that answer to be an unremarkable no. Vernon continued discussing his perilous encounter with the lungfish. He slowly gestured at his mouth, implying that no, they had not gotten past the uvula portion of his story.

"Quentin, can you wrap that up? We still have practice," she called, and Quentin gave her an apologetic smile.

Vernon twisted around in his seat, frowning. "Hey, Phoebe, you can't interrupt literary greatness. We've got a good debate going on here about semicolons." He cleared his throat and faced Quentin. "Anyway, what did I say?"

Quentin fiddled with his scarf. "Something about slobber?"

He snapped his fingers. "That's right. See, the saliva is what ties them together and connects the thoughts. It's like mental connection but with spit."

Phoebe tapped her foot, hitting the bass drum and letting it pound against the lodge walls. "Well, if you can't come to an agreement, then you should move on to the next sentence."

Quentin pounced on her suggestion before Vernon could retort. "Great idea, Pheebs! Come on, Vern, let's see the rest of your masterpiece in the making."

His compliment won Vernon over. Quentin read quietly enough for Phoebe to not hear a word. She was grateful for that. If she was dozing off from listening to Vernon's drivel, then the lake monster might have attacked when she wasn't prepared again.

Phoebe flipped her drumsticks, continuing to pound the bass drum. She slowly hit her drums, dragging one stick against the cymbal. Keeping an even beat, she closed her eyes, losing herself in the rhythm.

The back door opened, its hinges creaking and interrupting her music. She stopped drumming, watching in bewilderment as Maloof rushed inside. He didn't pay attention to anyone. Running as quickly as his short legs could go, Maloof made it to the storage closet and opened it. He yanked out a tupperware container and tore off the top. Rummaging through it, he seemed intent on finding a particular item.

"Uh, Maloof? You good?" Phoebe asked, but Maloof ignored her. She rather disliked being disregarded and cleared her throat. "Maloof, what's wrong?"

"Huh?" He flinched, evidently startled. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted what he needed and snatched it. Holding up a pair of scissors, he replied, "What is it? I'm kind of busy right now."

"Doing what?"

Maloof experimentally snipped the air. He traced his finger along the jagged edge, nodding to himself. "Not to worry, Phoebe," he said, focusing on her with a critical eye. It was an expression she hadn't seen before on his round face. "This is just how we do things in my family."

Phoebe had no idea what to make of his statements. She was ready to question him, but he already scampered to the back door. She blurted for him to be careful, reminding him not to run with the scissors. He paused, then stuck the scissors in his pocket and nodded at her. After Maloof left, she pondered the meaning behind what he said, uncertainty trickling down her spine.

But it was cut short when the front door slammed open for a second time. Phoebe jumped her seat, tightening her grip on her drumsticks. She leveled an even glare at the entrance only to immediately lower her shoulders. With a sigh, she continued playing, only slightly bothered by the intrusion.

Benny kicked the door shut. He huffed, crossing his arms and clutching his elbows. Leering at the other kids, Benny scowled. None of the other campers paid him any mind.

"Oh, jeez, why are all of you losers here?" he jeered, dragging himself inside. He marched down the aisle and stood next to Quentin, puffing out his chest. Phoebe knew what he wanted, and she was glad when Quentin didn't stoop to his level, choosing to read over acknowledging him.

"Well, if you wanna be alone, you can leave through the same door," Phoebe said, aiming her drumstick behind Benny.

He scoffed and stomped toward her. "Oh, yeah? And where will I go? I couldn't figure out a way to get over to the lake to join the coach, and now, I'm stuck here with the lame brigade."

"And like I said, Benny, door's that way," she countered, grinning as Benny's bravado vanished.

Leaning against the stage with his back facing Phoebe, Benny pulled something out of his pocket and unwrapped it. She noticed it was a candy cigarette, rolling her eyes as he stuck it between his lips. His faulty too-cool-for-school persona had always irritated her. He nibbled on it, but it seemed the sweet taste couldn't quell his displeasure. Throwing his arms up, he sighed and shouted, "I'd go hang out with Bobby, but he's making out with Chloe in the classroom treehouse and-!"

"He's what?" Phoebe shrieked, slamming her drumsticks on her cymbal. It clamored, ringing throughout the lodge. Yelping, Benny clapped his hands over his ears. Dropping her drumsticks, she immediately snatched the cymbal, her face burning red, and Quentin, equally startled, asked if she was okay. Vernon continued speaking as if she hadn't made a sound.

"Well, he's not really making out with her, but they definitely will!" Benny banged his heel onto the stage. "He ditched me for a nerd, and I can't bully anyone without him! You know that!"

Phoebe heaved out a deep, strangled breath, She dropped her arm from the cymbal, slowly shaking her head. Relief filled her from head to toe. She wouldn't know what to say to either Bobby or Chloe if that was true, especially as she felt their friendship was already strange enough.

Standing up, she smoothed down her shirt and sucked in a deep breath. She smothered the burning itch deep within her. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she narrowed her eyes on Benny when he looked over his shoulder at her. "Benny, when you say something, you better make sure what you're saying is what's actually happening," she warned, "or else this stick is going in your ear, and trust me, that's better than being burned."

"Is it better than Ma-loser getting the Russian guy to almost kill me? Because I'd take being burned over a Deadly Nelson! Or a Half-Deadly Nelson!" he squealed, raking his fingers through his hair. His dramatics earned another eye roll from Phoebe. He sighed, dipping his chin to his chest. "You don't get me, Doc. I tried bullying kids without Bobby, but I got my butt kicked."

Phoebe rested her elbows on her snare drum. "What you can do is take this as a learning experience and turn over a new leaf."

Finishing his candy, Benny snorted and shook his head. He stomped over to the camp store, and he struggled to climb over the counter. With a feeble grunt, he managed to tumble over it. His form vanished for a moment, Phoebe snickering to herself, knowing he had landed firmly on his face. He jumped up to his feet and checked over his shoulder. Phoebe smirked at him. She was delighted when he winced and immediately turned away from her. He distracted himself with the items for sale and mindlessly munched on a stolen dream fluff.

Sighing to herself, Phoebe reclined in her seat. Closing her eyes, she focused her mental energy in the direction of the asylum. While Raz kept everyone safe out there, she had a duty to heal him for saving her life. She'd readily give Raz a free therapy session when he returned after burning the coach, but she would do it after the victory party. Right now, Phoebe needed to jam out her frustrations. Clicking her sticks together, she drummed with all her might.