Camp Author: Chapter 6.2: Sara Walks Out

I opened my eyes. I turned in my bed, yawned, and jumped out of bed. I then head a bunch of noise from the living room. I walked towards the disturbance.

Sara was there, with all her luggages, packed and ready to go. Her back was to me.

“What did I do? Sleep through the whole summer?” I joked.

Sara turned and faced me. “You said something?” she asked.

My jaw dropped. “Whoa…”

Sara looked totally different. She looked…cooler… She had blush, light eye shadow, pink lip gloss, and her hair up in a messy bun with a pencil sticking out of it. She also wore a blue cami over a gray tank top, white jogging shorts, and white Old Navy flip-flops.

“You like?” she asked with a twirl.

“Where did you get all that stuff?” I asked.

“The make-up’s from Claire’s, the shoes are from Old navy, the shorts are from Aero, the cami’s from Justice, and the tank, I’ve had it for a while…” She pursed her lips.

“When?” I asked without missing a beat.

“Last night, duh! Jess said that me, Anna, and Lissa needed a makeover. Jess called a limo, took us to the mall, and paid for everything with her credit card.” She toyed with the pencil in her hair. “It was so fab,” she added. “Jess said creativity with clothes is the same creativity we use in writing.” She rolled her bags over to the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?!”

“I’m moving into Jess’s room with Lissa and Anna.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you understand? Us poets aren’t meant to be friendly with you story writers! We don’t get enough publicity, but one day, we shall!” She quickly slapped a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t say anything.” She sashayed out of the room.

“Yeah! Thanks a lot Sara Bennet!” I called after her. I crossed my arms and sat down on my bed. I decided to write in my journal.

Tuesday, June 20

So much for friends…Sara walks out on me (literally!) and Anna’s just shunning me! At least I still have Laura, Cal, and James.

And I know now why Jessica’s making an anti-story-writer mob….

I glanced over at Jessica’s table as I shoved a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth.

“What is up with them?” I asked as I gulped down the food.

“I don’t know…” Laura sighed, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “Anna moved out this morning and into Jessica’s room. Which reminds me, can I move into your room?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Laura rested her chin in her hand which was her thinking position. “I don’t understand… Anna and I never liked Jessica before. I don’t know what’s gotten into her…”

I poked at my food.

“Wait, isn’t that Jamie Newfield?” James asked.

Cal nodded. “Yeah.” He noticed my perplexed expression. “Jamie equals poetry. She’s always trying to make what she says poetry. It gets extremely nettlesome.”

Laura groaned. “I hate her…” she muttered. “Wait, Cal, Anna, Sara, and Jamie really like poetry and so does Jessica. Do you think she making a mob of anti-story writing poets?”

James raised an eyebrow. “If that’s true, why?”

“I think I know.” Everyone looked at me. “This morning when Sara was about to leave, she said something about poets not getting enough publicity. I don’t understand. I think they get a good amount.”

“Nikki,” Laura began, “Sara’s right. They don’t. At least here they don’t. The people who come here to make published authors out of campers only take stories. Poetry is not permitted. You can do a biography, a novel, a how-to book, anything but poetry. That’s probably why they’re mad. Anna was really upset about that last year. She just then created a play that was mostly poetry. The judges didn’t accept it. She cried the night she found out her piece was disqualified.”

“Wow…” was all I managed to say.

“I think they’re trying to change that rule…” Cal said.

“How do you know?” I asked.

James flashed a small smile. “I snuck up on one of their conversations.”