August 20th 2002,
Brooke and I just got back from three weeks in the Poconos for cheerleading camp. This is the second summer in a row now that I've gotten roped into it. Our requirement for cheering on the varsity squad as freshman she told me. The first time was a grueling two week program in Texas that felt more like boot camp than a nice summer retreat. I was hoping this would just be a nice couple of weeks up north to get away from the stresses of impending high school drama. I should have known better.
I've actually been trying to keep my distance from Brooke the last few months. Being around her has gotten increasingly difficult as I've started coming to the realizations that I'm more than attracted to her. I'm constantly walking on eggshells, scared to death that I'm going to slip up somehow and just plant one on her, or babble out some heartfelt confession. I'm not sure which is worse to be honest, I just know that Brooke would be less than receptive to either one.
I had been quietly relieved that Brooke and I hadn't pulled the same lodging assignments for Pine Forest. I was pretty sure that three weeks of practically living with Brooke 24/7 would have made me a completely frustrated mess. Brooke however was not taking the news so well. She tried repeatedly to have us reassigned to each other, to my secret relief, it never worked. Which made her that much more irritated by the entire thing.
We saw each other a good ten hours out of the day as it was, doing squad drills, pyramid training and routine planning. I was trying desperately not to let my eyes wander when I hoisted Brooke onto my shoulders for the pyramid finale.
One thing that I did come away realizing though was that I didn't spend the entire three weeks checking out the other two hundred or so teenage girls that we were surrounded by. Which made me feel moderately relieved and at the same time, even more worried. I'm pretty sure now that I'm not in the gay column, which of course, nothing wrong with that, but it makes me a little less confused in the grand scheme of things. But the bad side of that coin is that I also came to understand that Brooke seems to be the end all be all for me. And considering how nonexistent my chances with her are, it kind of leaves me in a really depressing place.
And just my luck, we ended up spending the last week of the camp sharing a bed. Brooke has this habit of always trying to be the alpha female. I'm not entirely sure she's aware of it, but it either earns her a horde of bowing loyalists, or a handful of extremely ruffled egos by the few girls who share her same attitude. The second we were introduced to the Bear Creek High squad I knew there was going to be trouble.
Claire Young was pretty much an entirely bitchy version of Brooke. Used to getting her own way, wanting everyone to follow her lead and not challenge her authority. And the most heinous bitch I've ever had the displeasure of meeting.
So naturally her and Brooke were going to lock horns. And then we found out they were cabin mates. I think I literally heard the feline growling when they locked eyes across the room. I half expected to see Brooke the next morning at breakfast with scratches up and down her arms. I have complete faith in her abilities to charm and ultimately dominate a group of impressionable young girls, but she was lacking one thing that Claire had in spades. Brooke, as spoiled and materialistic as she can sometimes be, she's not nasty. She's got the most amazing heart, it's just buried underneath all the money her parents throw at her. And I'm one of the lucky few who gets to see it on a regular basis.
But I'm digressing.
Two weeks into our lovely little retreat to northern Pennsylvania Claire and Brooke finally got into it. The knock down drag out that I expected to happen the first couple of days. My cabin was three over from Brooke's, so it made it pretty handy for her to slip in after lights out. We're both night owls, so the ten pm bed time was not something either of us were too fond of. So most nights she'd sneak into my cabin, and we'd crawl under the blankets, turn the flashlights on she had insisted on packing, and paged through one of the gazillion magazines that we managed to smuggle in. Since I was rooming with Theresa we weren't worried about being ratted out. It was starting to become a perpetual slumber party.
Until Claire caught on and told our counselor. The next morning we both were sat down and given a stern lecture on discipline being the most important factor in cheerleading, and how were we ever going to lead our squad if we couldn't even go to bed when we were told. It was really one of the most boring conversations of my life, especially considering that I spend most of my time on my own with dad off on jobs in the Atlantic. I'm not used to have any kind of curfew, bed time, or rules in general, besides the normal morality ones of course. Counselor Bonnie was so red in the face I was shocked she didn't just pop a vein in her forehead.
Fast forward to that night. I snuggled down in bed, desperately needing a good night's sleep after the exhausting day I'd had. A couple hours later I was woken up by the lights going on around me and the distinct sound of Brooke ripping a certain blonde cheerleader a new one. By the time I rolled myself out of bed and cleared the sleep from my eyes, half the camp was standing outside of Brooke and Claire's bunk, watching in rapt attention as they matched each other, insult for insult.
In my half asleep haze, I can't be entirely sure what all was said, most of it was just jumbled shouts at each other. But when I saw Brooke step toward Claire with a distinct look of bloody murder in her eyes, I knew it was time I try and diffuse the situation. Pushing my way through the onlookers, idly wondering where the camp counselors were now, I made my way behind Brooke. And I got my own dose of Claire' vitriol for my trouble. Here I was essentially saving her from Brooke's full fury, and I just managed to get myself drug into the whole mess.
"Well well, looks like I was right Brookie."
I knew that was just going to enrage my best friend more, she hates when people cutesy her name, it pisses her off like nothing else. By that time I had put my hand on her shoulder, trying to subtly encourage her to back off. Subtle wasn't working though, and just as I was about to grab her around the waist and physically drag her out of the cabin, our wayward counselor finally decided to make an appearance. After she finally realized that there was no way Brooke and Claire could spend another week together breathing the same oxygen, she took Brooke's suggestion to stay with me in my bunk for the duration of the camp.
Sure, I didn't want them killing each other, but that last week was pure and utter torture for me. Brooke's a cuddler. And normally that's not such a bad thing, or even noticeable. Because my bed at home is a nice large queen size. Plenty of room for the both of us where we barely touch during the night. But the bed at cheer camp was the smallest twin I've ever seen in my life. So for six straight nights, Brooke would curl up next to me, her chin propped on my shoulder, her hand placed somewhere different on my person every night. And I watched the sun rise six consecutive days. The bags under my eyes deserve their own zip code, they're that massive. But there was no way I was risking sleep, only to have one of my more vivid dreams of late and end up molesting my best friend.
And I don't think Brooke has any clue. So much for staying away from her. That last week was a perfect lesson in being careful what one wishes for. During my weeks of avoidance before the camp, my naughtier thoughts had danced around the exact same scenario, with a few more than friendly details added in.
I have no idea what I'm going to do about this. I can't be around her without wanting to touch her. But the keeping my distance plan is doomed to fail. We're best friends. And I need to keep it that way. My feelings and attraction are inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. So I'm determined to get over whatever this is and make sure things go back to normal as quickly as they can.
Brooke can never know.
Peyton
I giggle a bit as I read over the last few paragraphs again. I've always been a snuggler, ever since I was tiny. I couldn't go to sleep without having my arm or hand wrapped around something. Usually it was my Care Bear or the spare pillow I insisted on having. As I've gotten older, it's more often than not, a person. And my favorite snuggle bunny has always been Peyton. Usually when I sleep over at her house, I just use her extra pillows or the bedspread itself. But that bunk was so damn tiny at Pine Forest that she was the only thing to grasp onto.
And I actually liked it that way. Peyton has always been the only person in my life that's made me feel truly safe. Not just emotionally, but physically as well. Her arms are the safest place in the world to me, and especially after my little catfight with Claire, that was just what I needed. I don't think I've ever slept as soundly as I did that week I spent in bed with her. I actually remember how stiff she seemed the first few days, which baffled me to no end. We had slept in the same bed together probably a thousand times before that, and she's never been anything but completely comfortable with me. I wasn't sure what changed. But I selfishly didn't really care, as long as we were together.
Just as I'm contemplating all the ways I can make those sleepless nights up to my poor Peyton, the sounds of the Spice Girls once again sound through my bedroom.
