niceness can't possibly pay off every time, right?

One time when I was at summer camp, I told a lie. Although, you might consider it many, many, many lies. I'm not sure. Each and every lie tied together nicely to make one big, fat, horrible, yet convincingly funny lie.

Here's the story. My friend Gina and I met this girl name Kris on the first day of camp. And for some reason, Gina and I thought it would be funny to tell the girl that I was mentally handicapped. For the sake of saving a little dignity, lets say it was Gina's idea and I just fell victim to peer pressure. Besides, what harm could it do? It's just one meal, right? The camp was really big and we didn't plan to see Kris again since she was with a different group.

We were eating our first meal and she sat with us. By the end of dinner, we had fed her an entire story about how bad off I was. I rambled on and on and on with my very convincing speech impediment about my 'special school' and my 'special teacher, Miss Gregory'. I pulled the name out of thin air, then began assembling a fictitious character that I would end up 'crying' for each and every day. Out of her big, big heart she offered to pour me more lemonade. Sweet, right? And that's just the beginning.

Because Kris felt so badly for me; that I was at camp away from my family and my ever so beloved Miss Gregory, she made a point to follow me around the ENTIRE week. Gina and I were not expecting her to ditch her group and hang with us. Oh, but she did. What were we to do? That's right... keep lying! All week long she did my crafts, she tied my shoes, she cut my food, she styled my hair, she helped me walk up all the big hills, she helped me swim... the list goes on and on. All the while Kris thinks my friend Gina is the very responsible camper who was put in charge of my well-being while at camp. If only she knew that my sensational unkempt look of mismatched clothes and ratty hair was all attributed to Gina's handiwork.

With all the intricate details that went into the ever growing lie, the one thing that still gets me is the fact that very few people knew what we were up to. Not even the kids in our group knew that we were completely taking advantage of poor little Kris. We were careful to play our cards just right.

Finally, the last day of camp came and we were all busy packing and cleaning our cabins. I was left alone in my cabin while everyone else was taking their luggage out to the buses. In comes Kris. She was supposed to be on the other side of camp packing HER stuff. What was she doing in my cabin?

Game Face. She had come to say goodbye. She was very sweet and encouraging as she told me how glad she was to have met me, and how she will never forget me. (which, by the way, I'm sure ended up being the exact truth.) A twinge of guilt crept in just as I was saying goodbye, again, with slurred and struggled speech.

Sitting on the floor, I listened to Kris walk toward the door behind me. With perfect clarity I say, "Wait." Kris turned around. "I'm not really retarded."

"You're not?" her mouth agape.

"Nope."

"Oh. Okay..."

And out she slowly walked with a look of shock and wonder on her face. That was the last I saw of Kris.

Did I mention this was church camp?