SMILE

Austin | 2008

Austin was in a forest, getting a photo done quickly before he goes to camp. He stood, looking at his mom’s camera, preparing not to blink from the piercing light. ‘Smile!’ His mom exclaimed. He smiled for the camera, looking at it. Trying my absolute best not to blink from the shine that cut through him. A picture roll out of the camera like a CD coming out of the player. His mom grabbed it, waving it around for it to develop. He approached her.

‘Look at this photo! It’s a good one, right?’ She spoke confidently, while simultaneously lending the photo to him.

He grabbed the picture and looked down at it. On the side of the picture, there was a clown peering over from behind the tree, its hand was aggressively grasped around the tree trunk.

The clown was tall, milk-white skin, he had dry cracks splayed across his forehead, no hair, no eyes, oval-shaped head . . . and the smile across his face was nothing like any human would have — his hairs shot upward and flowed down his neck, the smile stretched earlobe-to-earlobe — it alone was enough for me to struggle with my breathing . . .

My voice broke out — my last inner strength remaining, ‘M-Mom, there is a C-Clown in the photo!’ Showing her the photo.

She looked down at it. ‘What clown?’

His eyebrows furrowed — confused. What? Is it just my imagination? He thought. Then it made sense — he figured it would have to be his imagination — she would’ve seen it either on the camera, or when she was looking at him. By that thought, a heavy weight arisen from his shoulders.

Now, he grabbed his bags, marching, dragging his suitcase along, nearing towards his friends who were sitting amongst the class. And sat next to Summer, crossing his legs. Another one of Austin’s friends leaned forward, looking at him in his eyes — Autumn.

You came!′ Summer said with excitement.

‘Yeah, what you thought I wasn’t going to come? I love canoeing,’ he responded back.

‘You don’t usually like camps,’ Autumn said.

‘Does “usually” count as now? Because I disagree.’

They waited as patiently as they could each moment had seemed to them as if they were hanging from a thread — yet they didn’t give their hopes up, but it stayed alive — the thought of whether we are going in the same cabin or not. It kills to know that the teacher, whether Miss Oz, or Mr. H knows the answer — one they, don’t but wished to know.

‘Summer, Autumn, and Austin,’ said Mrs. Oz. The air lifted in our space.

‘Yes!’ Summer and Autumn roared.

‘There is no way!’ Austin said, eyes widened in surprise.

‘Morning Mr. Carter. What’s our room number?’

‘Room fourteen,’ he said while pointing to the side where a path which lead further into the forest.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

Him and his friends Dawdled towards the path, and they began hiking down the gravel path.

The forest trees were covering their surroundings as the birds sung in the rooftops and the smoggy clouds comfort the wind howling in the cobalt-blue sky.

‘Looks like we are exploring!’ Autumn said.

When she said that, it pulled his mind to where he remembered two years ago they were exploring in forests, with LED lights — Autumn’s ideas never faulter. Her dad would always come with us and tell us some hilarious jokes as we trot our way down the forest’s path. Unfortunately at forty-seven, he died. Autumn didn’t go to school for a month afterwards. Him and Summer were worried about her, and were texting her if she was okay, but she left no answer — each time they called or message her, it felt to them that they were annoying, needy. So they stopped.

‘You guys brought some lollies?’ Asked Autumn, bringing Austin back.

‘Yup, I got a bag of Mars Bars,’ said Summer.

‘Ooh, I got three bags of jellybeans,’ Austin said.

‘Nice, what did you get, Autumn?’ Summer questioned.

‘I brought a massive packet of gummy bears,’ she said.

‘Looks like we are going to have a party,’ Austin smiled.

They continued their walk down the path. As they were walking on the path. In the distance, a glimpse of a cabin, appeared in view.

They dawdled towards the cabin and made our way up on the veranda, and onward to the front door. I put my hand on the handle and turned it around, when I had pushed the door, creaking to the side, lastly thumped against the door stopper.

Now, all of them looked down the hallway, the red carpet started by Austin’s feet, and trailed down to the other side. And slowly, started walking down, noting down in our mind what numbers of the doors that are passing by on both ends. Other kids down the other end, also tried to find their room.

‘What’s our room number, again?’ Summer asked.

‘Room fourteen,’ I said.

Summer went around Austin and walked in front, watching her blondish-brown wavy hair that spilled half-way down her back, like a calm river stream.

‘Found it,’ Summer remarked, opening the door, creaking again. He peered over the side of the wall with his hand on the door frame. Something about the room felt — homely — like it was meant to be. They all rushed in, closing the door behind and dropped all the bags to the floor.

‘I call top bunk,’ said Summer.

‘Okay, I’ll go bottom,’ said Autumn.

He knelt down to the ground; pushing his suitcase under his bed, opposite Summer and Autumn’s. Now, taking his sleeping bag out, laying it flat on his bed.

‘Pretty cozy room,’ said Autumn.

‘Yeah, I like this room,’ Austin spoke.

‘Same—’

Three knocks thumped on our door three times, thunderously.

‘Come in!’ We said altogether.

The door didn’t open . . . Austin walked up to the door and opened it. No one.

‘Who’s there?’ Said Autumn.

He turned around . . . ‘No one.’

‘Ugh, it must be Billy and his ding-dong-ditching,’ said Summer, Austin could tell, by her voice that she was already annoyed.

Billy Errs, he’s the annoying prankster an infamous student who enjoys pulling off pranks on people; nothing else to his name despite immaturity and pure disappointment at its finest, he thinks of himself as a comedic genius, but he is just a clown — even that is too generous to him. No one really likes him and his friends at all. Because they do pranks, not in general but it gets way out of hand. Some other kids, also ding-dong-ditch for jokes and stuff, but they don’t do it as frequently as he does. At least he is better than Jack.

Austin closed the door and walked to his bed, and sat down on the soft, bouncy mattress . . . He stood back up not long after and turned to the side, looking out the window . . . The clown was staring at him — he fell backwards onto the floor, frozen in fear at what he’d seen.

‘Are you okay Austin?’ Said Summer.

‘There is a clown o-outside!’

‘Huh? you mean Jack?’ Summer says, followed by both of their laughs as they sat on their beds looking at him.

Summer’s arms were crossed, resting on the bed’s guardrail, and Autumn was sitting on her bed, there was a glint in her eyes, that the feeling deep down told him — that she was actually listening. No, I’m serious! I really saw a clown outside! My look said. Austin stood back up and looked outside the window again . . . Nothing, no one was there . . .

‘What? It was just there,’ he said, looking on both ends.

‘I’ll be back,’ He said. Wandering to the door, closing it behind with an accidental thump.

He looked down the hall, it was there again, this time peeping through the window of the door of the cabin entrance . . . the door handle rattled, sending Austin frozen, then slowly backed up. Walking slowly backwards down the hall . . .

The door opened and the clown’s dark silhouette took shape in the door frame — its smile stood out, still dark, though. He kept walking backwards, each step kept getting faster. And the clown came in the Cabin. Then he bumped into someone. Austin turned, it was Mrs. Monroe.

‘Are you okay Austin?’

‘Y-yeah,’ He answered, swallowing the suspiciousness down his throat. He turned back around, and glanced at the door. It was closed, as if what happened. Never happened. Austin looked back at miss Monroe.

‘You should be in your room where are you going?’ She said.

‘Uh, I’m going to the toilet.’

‘Okay but then go to your room after.’

‘Yes, Miss.’

He continued down the hallway, walking past her. And turned into the boy’s bathroom. Walking in front of the sink and turned on the faucet, slapping his face with water, and rubbing his face — Trying to refresh his mind.

He wiped his hands on his shirt and grabbed a paper towel and dapped it against his face, still leaving it wet. He walked out the boys’ bathroom, and wandered back to the room . . . shutting the door behind him, his hand stayed pressed against the door. He sighed.

‘Are you okay?’ Summer asked.

Austin refused to answer and sped to his bed and sat laying his face in his hands — as if frustrated.

‘Austin, you okay?’ Autumn said.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I think it’s just . . . my head.’

It’s my head, right? I thought.