Chapter Text
Malcolm had been by the canoe lake for hours. He did this to himself, really. What did he expect when he set tests for all the year-rounders (bribing them by exchanging chores for good grades, of course).
In the middle of summer, the camp was at its busiest and the only quiet he could find was by the lake, the only problem was the wind. Each stack of essays was weighted down by rocks, except he kept forgetting to put his makeshift paperweights back.
By the time the sun was setting, he was surrounded by soggy sheets of paper drying on the sand.
Malcolm hadn’t heard a sound apart from the ripple of water on the lake since breakfast so when he heard that crunching of chaotic footsteps sliding over the sand, he whipped his head around so fast that it hurt his neck.
A familiar impish grin met his eyes.
“Don’t scare me like that, Connor.”
“Oops, sorry Pace,” he adopted the look of a child being told off, “I won’t do it again.”
This lasted approximately two seconds before Connor snatched up the nearest pile of papers and took off running down the beach. Malcolm quickly scanned the sheets, checking they wouldn’t blow away, before he gave chase.
Connor had always been faster but he let the smaller boy catch up before speeding off again. He stopped near the end of the beach, holding the rolled up wad of paper over the water.
“Con, don’t you dare. I have to mark those and give them back. I’m trying to get those kids to learn. I can’t go back and tell them their essays dissolved.”
“True, true. I’ll give them back, on one condition.”
“What now? I already told you I’m not putting anything in my siblings’ food.”
“I still think you should reconsider but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”
“Fine, what is it?”
Connor’s cheeks went red and he looked down, “Will you go to the Fourth of July fireworks with me?”
“Sure, Con. Most people go with their friends anyway, I kinda assumed we were already going together.”
“No, I meant-”
At that moment the conch shell sounded and Malcolm dove for the papers. Connor didn’t put up a fight.
“See you later,” Malcolm said, walking backwards towards where he had left the rest of the papers. He gave a salute and turned away.
Connor kicked the sand.
“So close,” he muttered as he sulked towards the dining pavilion.