I looked at my outfit unhappily in the mirror, but Laura assured me I just looked like a mysterious spy. I stared at her suspiciously. “Or like a homeless woman who just wandered into a fancy cocktail party?”
She looked at me objectively for a few seconds. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But way more like a spy.”
I have good friends.
All twenty of us sat around an open fire pit in our pj’s and no one was tweeting, or texting, or on the phone. We were all forced to make conversation out of desperation, because cell coverage was so sporadic there. Surprisingly, it came naturally, and no one looked panicked but me. The booze helped. I whispered to Laura that this was the closest I’d ever been to sleepaway camp, and that this was exactly when the serial killer would be deciding whom to pick off. We decided that the girl on our left would be the first one to be murdered, because she was frail and adorable and the audience would love her. I would miss her. The girl in the cabin next door would be next, because she’s a buxom hot blonde, but she’d probably ask her roomie to help her shower up first, because you have to be naked for the second murder, and that one’s always the most violent. Probably because you don’t have any clothes on to soak up the blood. I felt sorry for her roommate. We decided that everyone else would be murdered during the night, except for the quiet girl on our right who wasn’t drinking, and who would eventually avenge us all, and would be the perfect person to strike down the murderer, because she was pregnant and Mormon and full of brunettey wholesomeness. Then we’d find out that the murderer was Maggie, because turns out being a serial killer was on her life list. And it was sponsored. But the audience would probably forgive her because she’s adorable, and you have to admire someone who follows their dreams like that.
Three a.m. I couldn’t sleep. Luckily I was sharing a bed with Laura, who sleeps like the dead, but I still felt bad for tossing, so I bundled up in ten layers of clothes and a hoodie so I could sit by the pool and watch cartoons on my phone without disturbing anyone. Except the woods reminded me of Twilight and I found myself worried about vampires.
Four a.m. I decided it was late enough in Texas to call Victor. He was getting Hailey ready for school, but about ten minutes into the call I got attacked by a giant bear. Except not really, but it felt like it. Basically I was on the phone and this big animal walked into the pool area from the forest, and I whispered, “Holy SHIT. What the fuck is that?!” and Victor was all, “Where’s Hailey’s brush? Why don’t you put things back where they belong?” and I yelled, “THERE IS A FUCKING WILD ANIMAL SLUNKING UP TO ME,” and Victor said, “Huh?” but I could still hear him rummaging around for a brush.
Then I yelled, “I’M GOING TO BE EATEN BY A COUGAR. Wait, are there cougars in California?” And Victor was all, “Yeah. I think so. Oh! So I never got to tell you my idea for an iPhone app I’m going to make.” Then I considered calling him an asshole, but the animal was edging closer, and although it was dark I could see it didn’t have a tail, so I whispered, “Bobcat! I’m going to be attacked by a bobcat. Or a cougar that lost its tail. Probably because it got gnawed off by a vampire. And now it’s a vampire cougar. I am totally fucked.” But I said all that in my mind, because I was being quiet so that I wouldn’t attract its attention. It looked up, saw me, and then slunk off.
Victor was yelling, “Hello? Dumb-ass by the pool at four a.m.? Are you still alive?! TALK TO ME!” and I shakily said, “I’m fine. It ran away,” but before I could start talking about my traumatic experience he started talking about iPhone apps again, and I screamed, “WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT COMPUTERS WHEN I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED?”
VICTOR: You’re fine. So do you want to hear about my iPhone app idea I had?
ME: No.
VICTOR: Too bad. I made an iPhone app that tells you when cougars are near you. It doesn’t work when you’re on the phone, though.
ME: I hate you so much right now.
Six a.m.:
ME: OH MY GOD, LAURA, WAKE UP. I totally just got attacked by a cougar!
LAURA: [still groggy] What?
ME: It might have been a bobcat.
LAURA: YOU SAW A BOBCAT?
ME: It was small, though, so probably a baby bobcat.
LAURA: [silence]
ME: It might have been a house cat. BUT IT WAS ENORMOUS. And it totally looked at me in a threatening way.
LAURA: Did it growl?
ME: No. But I could totally tell it wanted to.
LAURA: How big was it?
ME: Big enough that I could put it in a cardboard box and carry it around, but it’d probably be heavy. Like, I could fit it in my suitcase but just barely. We could put it in your enormous suitcase, though, and it could probably live comfortably for weeks.
LAURA: I’m going to throw cougars in the room if you don’t stop making fun of my suitcase.
ME: [to the ten people eating an early breakfast the next morning] Did Laura tell you I got attacked by a bear last night?
EVERYONE: WHAT?
LAURA: She did not get attacked by a bear.