Camp Sunshine: A Thrilling Domestic Novella by Heather S. Chauvin

Author:Heather S. Chauvin [Chauvin, Heather S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2025-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Brooke

Now

I’m going to spend lunch getting to know Grace/Susan/Rebeca. Well, technically, during lunch, she seems to just be Rebeca. I’m even going to break my “no communication” rule. I have to. She is so peculiar, and I have to figure out her ever-apparent identity crisis.

I listen to her drone on about hummingbirds, sunflowers, and painting as I inconspicuously ask her questions. As I do, she doesn’t give me much attention, only responding briefly before carrying on about her own interests.

“Do you know anyone here named Grace?” I ask her.

“Hmm, doesn’t sound familiar,” she responds without thinking for very long.

Blah, blah, birdseed, blah, blah. Or at least that’s what I hear. Either she is obnoxiously selfish and only wants to talk about the things she cares about, or she’s trying to elude my interrogation.

“Susan can be kind of rude, hmm?” I say. More of a statement, but I ask it as a question, hoping she provides an answer.

She furrows her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. I can’t decide if she doesn’t want to entertain my inquiries, doesn’t care, or doesn’t understand.

Blah, blah, hummingbirds prefer, blah, blah.

All right, I need to be more direct. I clear my throat to redirect her attention to me, and when she finally completes her sentence, I ask, “How many different personalities do you have?”

She tilts her head questioningly. She starts to say something but then stops and appears to be pondering my question. Finally. Maybe now I can get some answers out of her.

“You know, you’re not the first person to ask me that. I never know what I’m supposed to say,” she trails off slightly before continuing. “I guess that’s why I’m here.”

She shrugs and jumps right back into sunflower facts.

I watch her, analyzing her movements while simultaneously reviewing all that I’ve learned about her today. She must think I’m interested in her babbling, as she continues on. I want to laugh, truly, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Of course, that’s why she’s here. She’s crazy. We are all crazy. But isn’t knowing I’m crazy supposed to mean that I’m not crazy?

“Oh, my favorite part of the day is next!” she says with excitement, pulling me from my downward spiral. I don’t ask what’s next. I stare at her, waiting for her to explain, which she does quickly. Man, Rebeca loves to talk.

“Painting! Well, and singing too. I’m most excited about getting to paint a new canvas today.” No sooner are the words out of her mouth before we are told to finish up our lunches so we can begin.

Staff members enter the room and begin to take our trays, remove the tables, and set up easels and paint. They direct us to each choose an easel. I wait for Rebeca to sit and then walk clear across the room and sit as far away from her as I can. Rebeca appears to be my least favorite personality so far. Hmm. I can’t help but wonder how many more of them I’ll meet.

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