When she heard her name, she was both overwhelmed with joy and pride. The boy that everyone at camp admired had dedicated a song to her, Greta, through the camp radio. And not just any song—a love song. She was standing on the porch, about to step down the stairs to join the others who were playing cards and lounging in the yard. But since the boy was leaning against the terrace railing, waiting for the music to play, Greta decided to stay as well. She sat at the bottom of the stairs and listened to the love lyrics, glancing between the boy and the tip of her shoe, blushing. Zente wasn’t shy at all. He kept his gaze fixed on Greta, mouthing the words along with the singer. However, when the song reached the part where the lyrics spoke about undressing the beloved girl and caressing her trembling body, Greta turned pale. She didn’t remember there being lines like this in the song. She only knew the chorus. Besides, she had never been with a boy, and now Zente was mumbling lyrics along with the singer about desiring her and sneaking into bed with her. She was too embarrassed to even look at him. The first time someone sent her a love song, and now all she wanted was for the ground to swallow her up. How could Zente choose such an intimate, suggestive song? They hadn’t even kissed! She heard the boy crouch down on the step above her. Did Zente intentionally send this song? Did he know what that old pervert was singing about? Greta was now certain she’d never listen to this band again. From now on, every song they sang reminded her of this moment – sitting here miserable, watching the other campers grin at the racy lyrics and Grta’s anguish. She couldn’t stand up now. That would offend Zente, and maybe he hadn’t remembered the lyrics? Everyone only remembers the chorus, right? Who cares about the rest of the song? Eh.
And of course, there was an endless guitar solo. Why wouldn’t there be? By now, she could have been curled up in the back of her tent, where no one would see her. But no, Zente was humming along too. What if he wanted to sleep with her? Was that what he was hinting at with this stupid song? How could he even think about that when they hadn’t even kissed? What did he think of himself? Did he really believe that just because every girl was in love with him, she would jump into bed with him? When she first heard her name, she had felt so proud! She had wanted to bask in that triumph, that euphoric feeling of being admired so much by someone. But now she sat there as if she were being punished, shivering with shame as the singer’s voice made her skin crawl. She could only hope Zente hadn’t seriously thought they’d sit there, gazing dreamily at each other while they listened to a middle-aged singer croon about who he’d like to crawl into bed with and how.
Greta stared off into the distance, trying to distract herself by watching the girls on the swings. But at that moment, one of her rivals—who had done everything to win Zente’s affection—ran up to them. The girls quickly jumped off the swings and ran closer, squealing, not wanting to miss the big moment.
Finally, it was over!
Greta jumped up to rush to her tent and planned to stay there until dinner. By then, everyone would forget what kind of song Zente had dedicated to her, and now she was angry with him.
“Greta! Wait!” Zente hurriedly stood up. “I’m sorry, that was so embarrassing. I didn’t remember the lyrics, just the melody and the chorus.”
“I know, I figured,” Greta murmured, relieved. She felt like she was walking on air. This boy was a jackpot. He wasn’t trying to rush things and get her into bed after all. How could she have even thought that?
Zente smiled at her shyly. It seemed Greta wouldn’t be tempted into his tent after all. Oh well, it was worth a try. Last year, when he had sent this song to Silvia and she heard those passionate lyrics, she had thrown herself into his arms so quickly that Zente had been the one blushing.