The feel of cold water splashing onto my skin brings a bit of life into my sleepy face. Patting myself dry, I study my face in the mirror. Not only two weeks in and already the camp life is doing a number on my complexion. My cheeks are less supple, the tip of my nose is red from the sun, and I think a pimple is forming but I don't even want to admit that lest I jinx myself.
Sighing, my eyes wander down the mirrors to land on Trent. We lock eyes in his reflection. I offer a smile to him. After a beat, he returns the act, although rather uncertainly. As Owen, the only other occupant of the bathroom, gathers his towel and leaves, I make my way to Trent's end of the bathroom. I see him visibly steel himself at my approach.
“Hey.” Brilliant start, Kurt. It gets his attention anyways. He turns to me, still wearing his mask of noncommittal cordiality. “I'm sorry about what happened yesterday.”
“Shouldn't you be apologizing to Sebastian?” It's not the way he says it. His voice is almost genuine. But, from the quirk of his lips and the tilt in his head, I can tell he has picked his side. And it's not me.
“I will apologize to him.” Maybe. I still haven't decided if I want to be the first to cave this time or not. Usually when we fight neither of us apologize. We both just get so sick of not talking that we revert back to being best friends, as if there never was a fight. “But, I'm sorry for dragging you into it, too.”
He shrugs, “It's cool.” I nod, waiting for more from him. Trent just turns back to the mirror, running his fingers through his flat morning hair. I nod again, standing at his side, running my fingers along the rim of the sink. Just waiting; waiting.
“So, what are you guys doing this morning?” I ask at last.
“Oh, uhm,” Finally, he looks at me again. “The rock climbing thing.” Then, he scoops some mousse onto his fingertips, reverting back to his reflection.
“Cool,” I lean forwards, inserting myself into his line of sight. “Wanna walk there together?” And queue that winning smile of mine.
He dodges my intruding proximity. I step a little closer to the point that I can smell the cologne of his mousse. “I really don't think that's a good idea.” He lifts a can of hairspray, shaking it a few times. “Like I can't stop you from going but I don't think I should go with you, ya know?” Then, and my very near and dear face be damned, he sprays the can aimed mostly at his hair, as well as my face.
I stifle my cough, waving the cloud of chemicals away. ‘No, I don't know.”
“Look,” He caps the spray, thank god, and perches it on the sink corner. Turning, he gives me the decency of eye contact. “I dont wanna take sides or anything. But maybe if you hung around us more youd realize like everyone is kinda upset with you. Like, Im not… not really.”
“Not really?” I try to keep my voice even. But the end of my inquiry quivers with a tinge of frustration. So much for him not taking sides. Clearly he has. He did a long time ago. If not, he would've sat with me. Or talked to me yesterday when he came into the cabin. And I wouldn't have been invited to sit with Blaine and his friends, out of pity no doubt, last night at the movie under the stars. And I sure as hell would not have just been assaulted in the face by Toni & Guy styling spray.
“Well, you kinda ditch me all of the time.” I'm so focused in my rage that I almost miss what he says.
“Like when?” I want to sound genuine, but I barely manage to joke down my scoff.
“The nature walk on Monday.” Trent offers.
“I wasnt feeling well.” That's a lie, actually, and he knows it.
Instead of calling me on my fib, he just sighs. “I dont know, Kurt. We all just kinda feel like you dont really care so much about us.” We? What we? Before I can ask, Trent collects his styling products and leaves me in the bathroom with nothing but my thoughts.
So, it's all of them then. Marty, Alfie, Cal. All of them. I guess Sebastian is where their loyalties lie; not me. I just don't understand why no one has said something to me sooner, that is if they all feel this united front against me. Trent says they all feel like I don't care about them? Well the feelings are mutual. They can have fun rock climbing; no skin off my back. There is something else I've been considering doing today, anyways. Which means I need Blaine's help.

I manage to track down my cabin leader in the cereal line of the mess hall. After greeting him, I dive in with my question. “Is it possible for me to go to camp sisterhood's fashion class today?”
For a minute, he looks taken aback, spoon in one hand and froot loops spilling out of his bowl. But then he recovers, a dashing grin gracing his lips. “Yeah, totally. I mean, my girlfriend pretty much runs the camp. I can probably get her to sneak you in." Great. Quinn Fabray. My hero. “She's actually over there. We can go ask her.” Without awaiting my response, Blaine ditches his cereal and sets off towards the forbidden girls dining area. Glancing nervously to the boys side that I know, I follow after him.
“Quinn!” His wonderful goddess among mere mortals is sitting at a roundtable, center of the dining hall, with her usual suspects.
She looks up at his voice from the probably uber important documents she'd been pouring over. “Hey, honey, whats wrong?” There's an absolutely nauseating expression in her eyes when she looks at Blaine. Like she's trying to seduce him in front of us. In front of all of her campers. In front of camping families from Canada.
Whats worse? I think Blaine is buying it. He looks positively lovesick, not smiling or grinning, his go-to's. This is a smirk. And it makes my knees weak, and probably her's too, which I loathe. “Nothings wrong. I just need a favor. Quinn, you know Kurt.” He pats me on the back. That I loathe, too. It screams ‘bud.'
Her ponytail swishes as she turns to her Latina friend. They share mocking smirks. But these are nothing like Blaine's smirk. They're far more reminiscent of Eli's. “Not really…” Everyones two favorite words today. She masks the bitterness by giggling out her reply. Once more, Blaine falls for her rouse.
“Well, he is part of my cabin.” Apparently I am that and his ‘bud.' Nothing more. “Hes also going to be a freshmen fashion student. And, since we dont have a fashion class on our side, Kurt was interested in going to yours.”
The Latina girl scoffs, “Ew, Berrys class?” The other blonde cheers with a silent ‘yas.'
Quinn seems unphased by the other girls commentary. “You promise youre not going to divulge all of our secrets to this one?” She playful nudges Blaines hip with her foot. He actually giggles, waving her suggestion away with joking “pfft.”
Pfft you, Blaine Anderson.
The Latina girl seems to be thinking the same thing about her manicured friend. With an eyeroll and a hair flick, she sets in. “He wouldnt have to if youd divulge them your-”
“Santana! Shut up.” I think the only people caught off guard by her quip are me and the other blonde. The Latina, Santana, throws her hands up in surrender. Blaine and Quinn are wearing matching blushes, heads lowered. And, oh. Ohh, those secrets. They haven't done it yet. Ohhh, I'm not supposed to know that about Blaine Anderson apparently. But, not that this knowledge means I have any real chance with him, I can feel my own smirk tugging at my lips. Quinn clears her throat. “The class starts at one. Meet, uhm, Brittany here during lunch. Shell walk you to the class.”
The other blonde is apparently Brittany. She waves sweetly at me. “I am like so excited for you.”
Santana turns to her, confusion creased into her meticulously plucked brows, “literally, Brit, why?”
When she talks, it's not towards her friend. Instead, she watches me with her mouth open in a wide smile. I fidget under her childlike wonderment. “He looks so awesome. Hes like a unicorn.” This time she turns to her friend, whispering to her with great conviction, although not all too quietly. “Hes what that class needs.”
Blaine nods with Brittany. “I agree. Thank you ladies.” The two young at hearts high five enthusiastically. Blaine tries to do the same with Santana. But she gives him a smile that works more as a warning. So he moves on to kiss the crown of Quinns head. Then Im granted my high five, from which he captures my hand in his comforting grip and doesn't let go. Pfft to you too, Quinn Fabray. “Now we have to run it past Wes. Wish us luck.”
His hand warm around my own, Blaine leads me back through the mess hall. Expertly, he maneuvers both of us around the crowds, dodging chairs and Canadian children, to Wes and David.
“Hey, boys, what's wrong?” Wes greets us. Blaine seeks out my gaze at his side, both of us noting the parallels of the two leaders.
“Nothing, nothing. Just, well, is it alright if Kurt attends an activity with the girls today?”
Wes directs his gaze to me, shifting forwards in his seat. “Why? If I might ask.” His elbows fall to rest on the edge of the table he sits behind.
“I-uhm-” I attempt to begin.
Blaine, sensing I'm not prepared to defend my choices to the oddly intimidating young leader, turns off my stuttering with a quick touch of the shoulder. “Well, Kurt here noticed that we at Camp Brotherhood do not offer a short course in fashion design. And, with that being his major, he would like the opportunity to partake in one. Even if it means an afternoon on the other side.” He adds a mystifying effect to his voice as he alludes to the half of the campsite dedicated to Camp Sisterhood.
“Fine. I trust you won't have much difficulty getting Quinn Fabray to agree.” David chuckles. That's the first time I've seen such emotion from him.
“Already done.” Blaine announces. “Thank you, gentlemen.” He turns to me, gesturing back to our abandoned cereal. “After you, sir.”

“Rachel?” Brittany calls in a sing-songy manner. She taps on the door, nudging it open. “This here is the magical Kurt Hummel. He's going to join your class today.” The precious girl waves me eagerly into the room. Stepping through the doorway, I am greeted by another much too hot cabin. Except this one looks like a pinterest board vomited all over the walls. And I thought the boys had cliche decor.
As I take in the ‘Hey girl' Gosling poster, a beaming young lady with an unmistakably Jewish nose side steps into my eyeline. “Rachel Berry, junior, fashion design. It is a pleasure to meet you.” I jump at the blade of a hand that she thrusts to me. I gingerly accept her hand, instantly regretting it. I can't hide my squeal elicited from her enthusiastic death grip. She releases my extremity, turning her attention to Brittany. Once both girls have their backs to me, I allow my face to show my pain, massaging my now sore shaker. “Thank you so much Brittany.” I look up to see Brittany being led out and Rachel Berry headed to me, a girl on a mission. I cower internally. “Kurt, we are going to have so much fun together today, I can already tell.” She hooks arms with me, not slowing her gait. “You know, I have two gay dads and they're the best dressed people I know.” I roll my eyes as we approach her teacher's table. Great, thanks for the cliche Miss. Berry. “So, you'll do great here. Ugh, we are going to be such great friends. I'm going to hug you now.” Oy, and I thought the handshakes were miserable. My arms flail helplessly by my side. I think my struggle actually makes her squeeze me tighter. She doesn't let go until I croak out just a little, involuntarily. I think it was actually the start of my intestines smushing into baby food. “You can have a seat wherever you'd like and we will get started in just a few minutes.” Without a single falter to her smile, she smoothes out a crease in her skirt. Ah yes, and how am I supposed to learn anything about fashion from a girl who wears knee high stockings, a school skirt and a reindeer tshirt to summer camp?
Trying to distance myself from my apparent new bestie, I take seat at an empty table in the back. After one more vivacious smile from Rachel, I decide to busy myself in organizing my workspace. I open my sketchbook to the next blank page, making sure it's aligned center of my body for optimal sketching. Unzipping my pencil bag, I pour the contents onto the desk. One rolls, making for the floor. Before I can catch it, another hand scoops it up.
Handing me the pen, she smiles. “Mind if I sit with you?” I shake my head, clearing my things from what is now her space. “I'm Mercedes.”
“Kurt.” The corners of my lips twitch upwards as I take her hand, noting her grip is much less severe than Rachel's. “Freshman, fashion design.” I add quickly.
Mercedes snorts a laugh, before realizing I was serious. “Oh, do you boys really do that? Berry does it to be like y'all. But I thought someone told her that as a joke. Okay, well, erm, sophomore. Also fashion design.” She, too, organizes her space for the workshop. “I'm guessing they don't have fashion design over on the Isle of Man?”
“Nope, not even close.” I inform her, chuckling at the joke. “My cabin leader is dating the head of your camp so they got me in here.”
Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Yes, the infamous Queen Fabray. Lucky him.”
Before I can wiggle some information out of my new source, Rachel's voice, shrill and immensely grating on the nerves, yet still commanding, breaks through the thrum of female chatter. “Exactly one o'clock. Okay, everyone, let's begin.” Mercedes and I mirror each others annoyed expressions, both of which last only moments before we break out giggling.

When the hour ends, I hardly want to leave. Not that Rachel's tutorial was very enthusing. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't totally dreadful. But, it wasn't spectacular either. Mercedes was, though. Talking to her felt so natural. Every time Rachel turned her back on us, we'd have another whispered conversation that'd leave us once again dissolved into laughter. I don't know if I will ever be allowed back into a camp sisterhood course after that, certainly not next to her. But, we'll find time to hang out.
I'm very pleased with my new friend. But, it's only made me miss Sebastian even more. We used to interact with such jovial ease. And somewhere in there, beneath that smirk and inflated ego, is my best friend. I just need to find him.
Once we gather our belongings, Mercedes comes with me to ask Rachel if she'd be allowed to walk me back to my side of things.
“That's alright, Mercedes, I'll take him.” And queue that winning smile of hers.

“You're very talented.” Rachel confesses. We made it halfway down the hill to the mess hall and I was really appreciating her studied silence. I guess that's over now. “I would know; I'm very talented, too.”
“Right. Thank you.” What the heck kind of compliment is that?
“Looking over your work, I was quite impressed. Just imagine how much better you'll be when you have my experience.” She smiles warmly at me, stopping in front of the mess hall. “We're much more alike than you think.” God, I hope not. “And we talented people have to stick together, right? If you ever need anything just let me, or I guess Mercedes, know.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I'm going to hug you know, okay?”
“Okay.” This time I do wrap my arms around her small frame. I could use some friends right about now. It's not like I have many to pick from.