Page 23 of Campfires & Canines
Hazel
Isleep in. Honestly, I toss and turn all night thinking about a certain surly new friend with evergreen trees tattooed across his forearm.
By the time I drag myself up, it's almost lunchtime. No need for breakfast, I'm still full of marshmallows and alcohol.
I splash cold water across my face and brush out my hair, leaving it loose. In Los Angeles, I styled my hair straight to fit into the corporate image. My natural waves help me feel a little more like myself.
It's easier to navigate today and I find my way from the cabin to the diner easily. The trees are thinner closer to the clearing. The school building, the little store, and the garden create an oval. It’s open enough for the kids to play soccer.
The industrial building, which is a training facility of some sort apparently, is barely visible to the south. The obscured offices and parking lot sit past it. They don’t intrude on the community space, which is nice.
The school building has white siding with big windows. Suncatchers gleam in almost all of the lower window panes. Under them, tall stalks of blooms sway in shades of magenta and amethyst.
Marigold waves at me from the school building's yellow door. "Hey, Hazel!"
She is summer, all golden and freckled. Her strawberry blonde hair waves down her back over an olive corduroy jumper with a tiny frog stitched on the front. She's so cute, I feel a bit like a lizard monster next to her. But Marigold has an easy way about her. I've never felt so comfortable with a friend so fast.
She pulls me into a hug.“Come on.” She heads towards the diner.
"I'm freaking starving."
"You're telling me!" she agrees. "I wonder what Crickett's got going today." She pushes the door open. It's quiet, but a few other residents sit at the end of the counter.
"Does everyone eat here for every meal? Is this like the company cafeteria or something?" I ask under my breath. Marigold glances at me, startled.
"Kinda,” she answers slowly. “Lots of people like to cook, but Crickett and Clove always handle the community dinners. And then a few of us grab lunch here."
There's pizza, the crispy hand-stretched kind, with an impressive variety of toppings. Marigold grabs three slices of one with at least a dozen kinds of meat on it, but I opt for two slices of a supreme pizza. It's a good balance of meat and veggies so I feel like I’m eating something potentially healthy. I tuck a little chocolate chip cookie on the edge of my plate and use my free hand to pour some lemonade.
Marigold picks a picnic table towards the outer edge in the shade. Crickett waves at us as we pass. She's holding baby Dahlia while trying to convince her older daughter to eat some salad.
"That's Daisy. She's six," Marigold fills in. "She's a firecracker. She gives Crickett and Hawthorne a run for their money."
"She's cute."
The pizza is as delicious as it looks. We savor a few bites before chatting. I sip the lemonade. It's strong and tastes homemade. Why is everything better here?
"You doing good today?" Marigold asks. "We didn't scare you off last night, did we?"
I scrunch my nose up. "Nah. But the twins are a special kind of hilarious."
"Yeah, Onyx can be a bit much." Marigold sighs like a frustrated mother hen.
"He's fine." I hesitate. "But does he have a problem with Slate? Things felt weird." I chew my cheek, anxiety welling up.
"Oh." Marigold frowns. She checks around us - all the tables are empty. "Well, I think Onyx feels left out right now."
"Yeah?" I knew I had picked up on some personal issues. I want to be friends with both men. More or less. Understanding their dynamics might be useful.
"Onyx and Slate were best friends growing up. We were all close, but they were always together. I mean, Cedar was always too busy with his books and I was younger. But Onyx and Slate pulled all kinds of crazy pranks." She shakes her head, smiling.
"Okay, so what happened?" I'm intrigued, sadness creeping in as my brain works out possibilities.
"Slate lost his dad as a teenager and he started to get serious about his life. He wants to live up to his dad's memory, I think. And Onyx hasn't exactly grown up yet, so he got left behind."
"Oh." I take a breath, sympathy for both of them surging.
"Yeah, but I wish he would be nice. He isn't going to repair their friendship by being an asshole." Marigold's lips thin.
