𝟢𝟢𝟦,𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

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Newt's got a good v-line

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Newt's got a good v-line.

Wait— sorry, what?

I clear my throat. Look away from him. I want to say something like 'Wow, bro. How much do you bench?' but a) I don't communicate with my friends like that and b) my mouth won't open, though I am sure it was close from dropping open like a second ago.

Anyways. He could've warned me that he sleeps shirtless— no, why would he give a warning about that? It's hot outside! I bet half the boys on this camp sleep shirtless!

"So how'd you like your first day?" Newt wonders.

Actually, it was great. I watched my sister get pulled into a pool, which that was pretty funny until I saw that made her clothes transparent, but then Newt pulled me away from the situation and showed me the tents and huts. I eventually decided to share a tent with him because even though my plan was to make friends, I'd rather have one very good one instead of a million others, and it seems more comfortable to sleep in a tent in which only two people can make a mess, and not five.

And Newt doesn't seem like a messy person, so that's awesome. And he's kind.

"It was nice," I reply. "But kind of forgot this is for misbehaving kids when I signed myself in. So it's probably gonna be busier than I thought."

"Oh, well." Newt shrugs, lips moving into an upside down smile. "It's not too bad. Most kids really aren't here for the biggest crimes. I mean, if they find out you have bad history with the police, you're really not allowed to stay here."

"So it's more like misbehavior as in 'I'm sick of my teenager with all these mood swings and not listening to me'? Not 'my teenager is a drugs dealer and assaulted many people'?"

"Yup."

Nodding, I sit down on my bed. Well, mattress. There's two of them, one on each side of the tent. I think there's like six feet between them. On the floor of those six feet stand all my and Newt's bags, unpacked. Although he has got a few things lied down already.

He notices me staring. "I don't unpack everything. I just take whatever I need for the day out of my suitcase. In case someone decides to be funny and takes all the clothes in our closet." And he points at a thing that for sure is handmade.

We've got nightstands next to our mattresses. And obviously the closet that's so bright compared to the dark blue tent it makes me not want to look at it (it's also ugly).

Other than that, this place looks quite good.

"So what will you choose?" I ask, looking down at my shoes, because I've been staring him right in the eyes for such a long time that it starts to feel weird to keep it going. "Like, art, or building..? What interests you? Or what did you choose other years? Where are the nicest kids? Do I have to worry—" I stop abruptly, then cover all my questions up with an awkward laugh. "Sorry."

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