Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Two

The worse sound I have ever heard came precisely at five o' clock that evening.

"What the hell is that?" I asked in surprise.

I pressed my hands over my ears. It was the equivalence of somewhere between an alarm clock and seven children screaming at once.

"The bell."

It quieted a moment later.

"The bell?" I repeated, not sure I had heard correctly. "What for?"

Peej was messing with his papers, sorting them back into their places. Chris had finally finished collecting the scattered supplies and was on his bed. I was on mine, too, and same with Peej. Phil was still gone, though the door was closed so I couldn't see if he was under that tree.

"For everything," Peej said, setting his bag down and standing. "Lunch, dinner, breakfast, meetings."

"How do we know which it is?" I stood.

"We don't," Chris answered, walking over with us. "Whenever we hear it, we just go down to the main hall."

I frowned. What a disorganized system. Nevertheless my opinion, I followed close beside the other two, out the door and in step. Just as predicted, everybody from all cabins were pouring out in the same direction, like moths to a flame, grouped into a discolored blob of different faces.

As we passed it, I glanced at the tree Phil had been under. Vacant.

"Can I ask you guys something?" I spoke up, the buzz of outside conversations ringing in my ears. Or it could have just been because of that dreadful bell. A side effect, perhaps.

Everbody was traveling in large herds, laughing and talking. I think I saw a couple of people I knew from school, despite the campsite being especially far away from the district. We were the smallest group.

"Sure."

"How come our cabin only has four people, while the others have more?"

Chris and Peej both looked over at me with a funny face. "You don't know?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, right," Peej said, "you've never been here before."

"Peej and I have been going to this camp since puberty," Chris said.

"Our last year. What a shame."

"Time to kiss this piece of trash goodbye," he sang, throwing his arm around Peej's shoulder. "Hasta la pizza, childhood, and hello graduation!"

"You mean hasta la vista."

Chris ignored me. "It's tragic, really, but for the best."

Peej nodded solemly and I crossed my arms. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Oh, right. Well, we're already here, so let's just wait."

I rolled my eyes, but was too interested in the building we were now walking into to care very much. It was the one I signed up in front of earlier, and the banner was still hanging there, the tables abandoned and lines nonexistent. We passed through two double doors.

It reminded me of a cafeteria for an overpopulated school. Several tables, incredibly long, lined rows on top of dirty wood floor. Then, a large stage with a podium at the very back, parallel to the doorway. A man stood there then, old with gray hair in bushes behind his ears, waiting patiently as we all found a place to sit. Above him, drilled into the wall, it seemed, were two bright red block numbers, displaying a clear 62.