Chapter Text
"I'd say I can't believe you did that, but that would be a lie. It's the kind of thing, you little failed abortions, and it makes me want to quit my job."
David was fed up, tired, and angry.
He drove, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
In the back seat were Max, Neil, and Nicolette.
Nicolette sat with her arms crossed, looking none too pleased.
Neil stared out the window, taking in the scenery, completely ignoring David's lecture.
Max sat between the two of them.
His arm was broken, twisted beyond belief.
Even so, he didn't seem to be in pain, though he did look sad after David's scolding, staring at the floor.
"I don't understand why Neil and I have to go to the hospital too! Max was the only one who got hurt!" the green-haired girl complained.
"Because he got hurt BECAUSE OF YOU, and if I have to endure a six-hour trip to the hospital, you will too," David replied. "You're going to suffer with me."
"I hate you."
"The feeling is mutual."
After that, there was silence.
David wanted it to stay that way; he hated noise.
But of course, thinking he could have silence with those kids was naive.
"Hey David, how old are you? How long have you worked at camp? How much do they pay you? What's your favorite food? Why do you hate Camp Campbell?" Neil spoke very quickly, without pausing.
David completely ignored him, focused on the road.
"Daaaaaviiiid, I asked you a question!" the boy complained.
"No, you asked me like thirty," the man replied curtly, having already lost what little patience he had left.
"Hey, that last one was a good question," Max joined the conversation. "How is it possible that someone hates Camp Campbell? It's the best place in the world!"
"You shut up. If you hadn't broken your arm, we wouldn't be here, and I could be reading my porn magazines or watching my Mexican soap operas" the counselor replied, fed up. "Besides, I don't even have to explain why I hate it. It's a fucking disaster! It's even more run-down than when I was a camper!"
"Wait, you went to Camp campbell when you were a kid?" Nicolette raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I've already told you," the redhead replied.
"I never pay attention when you talk," the green-haired girl shrugged.
"How was your time at camp?" Max asked, his eyes sparkling.
"Yeah, tell us!" Neil demanded excitedly.
"No," David replied, now clearly uncomfortable and nervous, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Come on, this trip is going to be long," Neil said, "we have to keep ourselves entertained."
"That's true," Max agreed, "tell us."
"Tell us, tell us, tell us, tell us, tell us, tell us!" the two children began chanting at the same time, while Nicolette covered her ears.
David's eye started twitching.
"STOP IT!" he shouted. He pulled his cell phone out of the car's glove compartment and threw it in Nicolette's face, making the girl let out a whimper of pain. "It's got 100 percent battery, several free flash games, and downloaded adult horror movies. Entertain yourselves with that and stop bothering me, you damn brats."
The three children obeyed and turned on the phone.
Now, the only sound was the copy of Candy Crush Nicolette was playing while her two friends watched.
David sighed in relief.
Finally, some peace.
But... that conversation with the children had brought back memories.
Memories he had wanted to bury deep in his mind and simply forget.
But now, they flooded his mind, taking him back to the past, a past he hated with all his soul.
"Welcome to the Order of the Sparrow," Mr. Campbell said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but it was quite difficult, seeing the disheartened and unenthusiastic faces of his campers. "It's a tradition that has been celebrated at my family's camp for over 50 years. We're going to commemorate the kindest, most nature-loving, and most dedicated camper who has proven worthy of this award."
Actually, they had chosen the winner by default, but he wasn't going to say that out loud.
Greg and Darla, his two counselors, approached reluctantly, wearing the sash with the insignia and carrying the Camp Pole.
Greg was a serious, moody man. He didn't talk much, had several tattoos, long dreadlocks, a beard, and was always smoking.
Darla wore a lot of dark makeup, had short hair, half of her head shaved, a few piercings, and was always a little drunk.
They both hated their jobs.
"This year's winner is..." Mr. Campbell paused dramatically. "Davey!"
A couple of campers clapped half-heartedly, but most remained silent as the red-haired boy walked onto the stage with a huge, ear-to-ear grin.
He was short, his hair was messy, he had enormous green eyes and several gaps in his teeth. His body was covered in bruises and scratches, and he wore several bandages. He had two mismatched socks, his shoes were untied, and his clothes were dirty. He wore a sleeveless denim vest and had a slingshot in his back pocket. His shirt was on backward.
He roughly snatched the camp pole and sash from Mr. Campbell and hurriedly put them on.
He looked very excited.
"YES!" “I KNEW I’D WIN!” he shouted. “Damn, I’m so fucking happy, this is the best, shit!” He laughed, overflowing with joy.
“Davey, language,” the Quartermaster scolded him.
The old man, who had kept to himself until now, spoke up to correct the boy.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” the boy shrank back in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to…”
The adult sighed, but smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair, who giggled a little.
Davey was truly happy.
This day was perfect, and nothing could ruin it.
“This is shit.”
Oh, fuck.
Everyone turned to see who had said that.
Standing there, with a hateful expression and his arms crossed, was a boy.
He was blond, not much taller than Davey, with long, dirty, and disheveled hair, covered by a blue cap that was much too big for his head and turned backward.
His shoes were dark, old, dirty, and a little torn. He wore ripped jeans and, despite the heat, a purple jacket.
Davey fought back the urge to grimace and instead forced a smile.
"Hey, Jasper," he said, sounding friendly, but with a subtle hint of venom in his voice.
"Fuck off," the other boy retorted, climbing onto the stage, pushing past Quarter, and snatching the microphone from Mr. Campbell.
"The Order of the Sparrow is bullshit," he said.
Gregg and Darla pinched the bridge of their noses; that damn brat was causing them trouble again.
Jasper continued speaking.
"First of all, it's racist. Are we really dressing up as a people who were murdered by colonists? It's a mockery of their culture!"
"Since when do you care about racism? You call me 'the Latino,'" said a kid in the audience. "I was born in Texas."
"Shut up, Nacho!"
"My name is James."
" "Whatever."
Mr. Campbell tried to take the microphone from him, but the boy dodged it.
"Second, the prize is ridiculous! A campfire?! Seriously?! We have campfires every week! The only difference with this one is that it's bigger, and we don't roast marshmallows! What the hell is the point of a campfire if we don't roast marshmallows?!"
Again, Campbell tried to take the microphone, but he fell flat on his face when the blond boy jumped to the other side.
However, Jasper also fell to the ground, as Davey subtly tripped him.
Davey stifled a laugh as he took the microphone from the other camper, who glared at him with hatred.
“I think the Order of the Sparrow is a beautiful tradition that teaches us the values of camaraderie, kindness, and respect for Mother Nature, who has given us so much,” he smiled sweetly at the Quartermaster, who was helping Mr. Campbell to his feet. The old man smiled back, making the boy’s smile widen.
Jasper, however, looked furious.
“You’re a suck-up!” he stood up. “You just repeat what you’re told to look good! You’re a hypocrite, and you only won by default! You can’t tell a pine tree from a carrot, and you’re only nice when it suits you! This is just a stupid, outdated camp tradition that fosters rivalry and competitiveness among the kids, making them fight over a silly, useless prize, making you feel like a failure for not winning, disguised as something spiritual and unifying.”
Darla sighed as Gregg walked toward the boy.
"Alright, you little failed abortion, you've caused us enough trouble. Get off the stage, or I'll pull you down."
"Fine, I said what I wanted to say," he started to climb down from the stage. "I'm going to shoot birds." He pulled a slingshot similar to Davey's from his pocket and began to climb down, but Mr. Campbell stopped him.
"Wait," he said.
He crouched down to the boy's level and put his hand on his shoulder.
The blond boy pushed him away, but the man didn't give up.
"Listen, Jasper," he said, "I understand you didn't want to come to camp, but since you're here, you should try to have some fun. There are lots of fun activities to do, and lots of kids you can befriend!"
"I hate you all, and if I could, I'd kill everyone in this filthy place and then kill myself," the boy replied curtly.
"Hey buddy," the man laughed uncomfortably, "that's pretty strong to say—"
"You'd be the first to die," Jasper interrupted, "and slowly and painfully."
"Hey, you can't…"
"And I'd enjoy every single one of your screams of agony."
"Okay, that's enough," the man grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him to his height. "I have an idea. How about you come with me and Davey on the hike we had planned for today? It'll be fun, and you'll be able to connect more with nature and the campsite!"
"WHAT?!" Davey shouted, horrified.
Mr. Campbell ignored him and continued talking to Jasper.
"Would you like to?" he asked with a hopeful smile.
"Oh, yes, how fun!" the boy replied sarcastically, feigning excitement. "Going on a hike alone with the camp owner and the world's biggest idiot, where I'll be lucky if I don't fall off a cliff, get attacked by wolves, or get eaten by a bear, or get lost, or get raped, or eat poisonous berries, or drown in a river, really, it sounds incredibleeee!" He looked at the adult with disdain. "I'm soooo excited"
Mr. Campbell frowned.
"Well, I understand you don't like the idea, but I assure you that nothing you said will happen; I'm a responsible adult."
"Um, excuse me, Mr. Campbell," Davey interjected as the man the other boy down, "I don't think Jasper coming with us is a good idea."
"Yes, I agree with the little one," Darla slurred, clearly drunk, "that brat is going to cause trouble."
"Yeah, if anyone dies, I'm not doing the paperwork," Gregg added.
"No one's going to die," Mr. Campbell said. "It's going to be a fun outing! Now let's get ready! I'll go get everything we need."
He stepped off the stage and went to his cabin.
Jasper looked at Davey.
"I'll make sure this is the worst day of your life."
He also stepped off the stage.
Davey swallowed hard.
Something told him the blond guy would keep his promise.
"Damn it," he muttered.
Davey and Jasper were now outside the mess hall, next to the camp flag, waiting for Mr. Campbell to arrive.
The blond boy was pulling the legs off an insect, which squirmed in pain in his hands, trying to escape.
Davey watched him silently.
Since he'd known Jasper, about two and a half months ago, he'd seen him do things like this.
The boy with the backwards baseball cap seemed to enjoy causing pain to animals.
He burned ants, put salt on slugs, and removed the shells from snails.
And once, he'd seen him smash a rabbit's head with a hammer he'd stolen from the toolbox.
The creature's blood and brains had splattered the blond boy's yellow T-shirt.
That was the first time Davey had seen Jasper smile.
But now, the boy wasn't smiling. He was serious, as if he were only hurting the insect for doing something while they waited.
In fact, it had been a long time since he'd seen him smile, not even when he was throwing rocks at birds or making fun of others.
He looked very depressed.
Davey wondered why he kept doing those things if they didn't really amuse him anymore, or at least not as much as before.
Out of habit, maybe.
"What are you looking at?"
Davey jumped. He hadn't realized it, but he'd been staring intently at Jasper for a long time, lost in thought, and the other camper had noticed, returning his gaze with his cold, empty blue eyes.
"Nothing, sorry," he looked away, embarrassed.
"Faggot," Jasper muttered, and continued torturing the insect.
"You don't even know the meaning of that word," Davey thought to himself, but he said nothing.
"Alright, guys, everything's ready," they heard Mr. Campbell's voice behind them.
The man was carrying a small backpack.
"I've got lunch in here for when we get hungry, water, a blanket to sit on the ground, and a camera to take pictures," he explained.
"And aren't we taking a map?" Davey asked, as Jasper stopped hurting the now legless insect and stood beside him.
"It's not necessary," the man replied. "I know the forest well."
As they left the campsite, Jasper approached Davey.
"I bet you my dessert for two weeks that we'll get lost."
Davey didn't answer him; they just quickened their pace, moving away from Jasper and closer to Mr. Campbell.
Davey liked walking.
But this walk was very uncomfortable.
At first, Mr. Campbell had a very friendly conversation with both boys, talking about the history of the camp and nature.
But Jasper's sarcastic, even cruel, comments had gradually silenced the man until he stopped talking altogether.
Now, they were immersed in an awkward silence, which Davey didn't like one bit.
He looked at Jasper, who was dragging his feet and looking grumpy.
"I hate walking," he complained. "I want to die."
He had been saying this for the last half hour, and Davey was getting fed up.
Today was supposed to be a good day! Davey had won the prize he'd been working towards since camp started! But no; Jasper always had to be complaining and ruining everything.
Even so, he forced himself to be friendly.
"Jasper, don't say that," he said, trying to smile sympathetically. "Look how beautiful this place is! The trees, the birds, the squirrels..."
"Fuck them," the blond boy replied.
"Language, Jasper," Mr. Campbell scolded him wearily.
"Fuck you too," Jasper retorted, flipping him the bird.
Mr. Campbell sighed and said nothing more.
Finally, they stopped, and Mr. Campbell laid the blanket on the ground and began taking sandwiches and granola bars out of his backpack.
"Let's take a break to eat, shall we?" he suggested.
Jasper grabbed as many granola bars as he could and moved away, sitting on a fallen log, far from Campbell and Davey.
The man sighed, but said nothing to the boy, and began eating a sandwich.
Davey took a granola bar and watched Jasper as he chewed it.
He remembered the first day of camp.
He remembered that he and Jasper were the only new ones: all the other campers already knew each other from previous summers and had already formed their groups of friends.
Davey had tried to befriend Jasper for a long time.
They were tentmates, and neither had anyone to talk to, so he thought it would be easy to make friends with the blond boy.
How wrong he had been.
Jasper was a very complicated person.
When they met, he was immediately rude to Davey.
And things didn't get any better.
Sometimes, Davey thought they were friends; they talked normally, had many interests in common, and a similar sense of humor.
However, sometimes Davey would say something that angered Jasper, and Jasper would insult him, hit him, or ignore him for days.
Sometimes, Davey wouldn't even do anything; Jasper would just get annoyed and take it out on him.
If Davey confronted him about his behavior, or defended himself against his attacks, Jasper would get offended or mock him, calling him a drama queen and a wimp.
Spending time with Jasper was like playing Russian roulette: one day they could be chatting animatedly about a horror movie they both liked, making sex jokes and fart jokes, or simply being together, at peace, and the next, Jasper could be insulting him, or even physically hurting him.
Not to mention that every time Davey asked if they were friends, Jasper avoided the question.
Davey didn't understand Jasper, and he had given up trying a while ago.
They had grown apart; Davey had managed to get himself moved to a different tent, and at lunch he sat as far away from the blond boy as possible.
Jasper never tried to approach him, but Davey sometimes felt his gaze on him, piercing his back like knives.
It hurt, a lot.
That was Jasper's specialty: he knew how to make you feel bad, even without touching you.
Even from a distance.
Davey watched him again.
Jasper ate his granola bars the way a wild animal devours its prey; crumbs fell onto his clothes, but he didn't bother to clean them up.
The redhead suddenly felt guilt twisting in his heart.
He knew he was the only one who talked to Jasper, and he had left him alone.
Perhaps that was why the other boy seemed so depressed lately.
He made a decision.
He stood up and approached, sitting down next to him.
Jasper didn't even look up.
"Hey, Jasper," Davey didn't dare look at him, "can I show you something radical?"
"What do you know about radical things?" he said with his mouth full, spitting.
Davey sighed.
"Hey, I'm really trying," he said. "I want to be your friend! Ever since summer started, but sometimes I feel like you hate me."
"That's because I hate you," the other replied. "But tell me, what's that radical thing? Now I'm curious."
Davey glared at him, but pulled out what he had in his pocket.
"Ta-da!" he said, with a grin.
It was a knife.
It was small, but very nice, sharp, made of high-quality metal, and definitely not cheap.
Jasper's eyes lit up, and his mouth opened in amazement.
Davey smiled, proud of having been able to elicit that reaction from the other boy.
"Where the hell did you get that?" Jasper asked, staring at the object.
"My dad gave it to me," the redhead replied proudly, with a smile that vanished when he saw the boy's reaction.
"I forgot you're a daddy's little brat," he said, rolling his eyes. "What a load of rubbish. Go be a daddy's boy somewhere else and leave me alone."
Davey looked at him, a mixture of fury and disbelief on his face.
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! What's your fucking problem?!" he stood up, furious. "I'm kind, considerate, I show you radical things, and I'm patient with you! What more do you want from me?"
"And when did I ever ask you for all those things?!" Jasper also stood up, glaring at him with the same fury. "I just want you to leave me alone!"
"But..." Davey now had tears in his eyes, and said something he never thought he'd admit, "You're my only friend..."
It was true: since he'd stopped spending time with Jasper, he had no one to talk to. The other kids at camp ignored him, he sat alone at lunch, and he had no one to talk to at night. Because of his insomnia, he lay sadly staring at the ceiling of his tent.
He was just as depressed as Jasper, only he hid it.
He looked at the blond boy, who was silent.
Out of nowhere, he started laughing.
"Hahaha, oh my god," Jasper wiped away a tear from laughing, "I thought I was the most pathetic person in the world, but you beat me!"
Davey didn't respond; he just walked away.
Mr. Campbell hadn't heard anything: he'd fallen asleep long before the conversation between the two boys began.
Davey sat down next to him.
He didn't cry, even though he felt like it. He just took a sandwich and started eating it listlessly.
He started chopping sticks with his knife to pass the time.
"Why does Jasper hate me?" he wondered. It wasn't a question for anyone, just a thought to himself.
He sighed and continued chopping sticks.
Suddenly, he felt someone approaching.
It was Jasper, who was smiling amicably.
"Hey, Davey, want to see something radical?" he asked. "Since you showed me your knife, I want to return the favor."
Why? Davey wondered. Why was Jasper sometimes nice to him and then not? Did he hate him or not? Were they just jokes he didn't understand? Or was Jasper just playing with him, like he did with the insects he tortured?
He stood up.
"Fine, but if this is one of your pranks, I'll stop talking to you," he said, putting his pocket away and crossing his arms.
"It's not the first time you've said that," the other replied with a mischievous grin.
Soon, he began to venture deeper into the forest.
Davey hesitated, for a moment considering changing his mind and waking Mr. Campbell.
However, he just swallowed hard and followed the other boy.
"So... what are you going to show me?" Davey asked. He and Jasper had been silent since they'd left without telling Mr. Campbell.
"You're going to love it," the blond smiled. "I noticed it when we were hiking."
"You didn't answer my ques..." the redhead began, but Jasper interrupted him, putting his hand out to stop him.
"We're here," he said with a grin.
He parted some bushes, opening them like a curtain.
"Ta-da," he said.
Before them was a cliff.
Below it was a breathtaking view.
Tall trees stretched out in all their splendor, bathed in the golden sunlight, and birds flew, adorning the cloudless sky.
Davey gazed around in awe.
"Damn, this is beautiful..." he murmured.
"Pretty nice, right?" Jasper smiled at him. "Too bad you're blocking my view. Let's fix that."
"Wait, what?" Before Davey could do anything, Jasper pushed him.
"Aaaaah...!" Davey fell, but luckily, he managed to grab onto a branch sticking out from the cliff.
He looked down.
He was very, very high up, so high he couldn't see the ground.
"Jasper, what the hell?!" He looked at the other boy in horror. "Why the hell did you do that?!"
The boy looked down at him, expressionless.
"I don't know, just an intrusive thought," he shrugged.
Davey stared at him incredulously.
"Help me up!" he yelled, furious.
"Hmm... what do I get out of that?" he replied.
"Jasper, what the hell?" "Uh, I don't know! Maybe I'm not going to die?!" Davey couldn't believe the other boy's disinterest.
"I want your dessert for two weeks," Jasper replied with a huge smile.
"Fine, I don't care! Just help me!" Davey was desperate.
"Perfect," Jasper crouched down and extended his hand.
Davey sighed in relief and extended his hand as well.
However, his other hand, the one holding the branch, began to slip.
He tried to hold on tighter, but it was no use.
He let go.
For a moment, he felt like time stood still.
His whole life flashed before his eyes.
The movies he had watched.
His time at school.
The days he went camping with his father.
His arrival at Camp Campbell.
It all happened before his eyes, but only for a second.
He fell, disappearing from Jasper's sight.
The blond boy remained silent, his hand still outstretched, staring at the spot where Davey had been moments before.
Slowly, he reacted, getting to his feet.
"I killed him..." he murmured. "I just killed him... I'm a murderer..."
He was in shock.
"I'm going to jail," he was horrified, but suddenly, understanding crossed his face. "Nobody knows this, nobody knows I did this." He chuckled a little. "There are no witnesses! I won't go to jail!"
But suddenly, he heard a voice.
"Jasper, Davey! Where are you?"
It was Mr. Campbell; he had woken up.
"Shit," Jasper muttered.
He had completely forgotten about the man.
Before he could do anything, he saw Campbell running toward him.
He had seen him.
"Jasper!" He crouched down to the boy's level and took him by the shoulders. "Are you okay? Don't ever run off without telling me again!"
Jasper didn't say anything, looking away.
Mr. Campbell frowned.
"Where's Davey?"
"How should I know!" the blond boy shouted, shoving him aside. "I'm not his guard dog! I haven't the faintest idea where the hell he is!"
Before the adult could answer, they heard shouts.
"Jasper, you son of a bitch!"
It was Davey.
The voice came from the bottom of the cliff.
"Davey, it's you!" Mr. Campbell ran worriedly toward the edge of the cliff.
"Mr. Campbell?! Thank goodness! Help me!"
Mr. Campbell looked down.
The cliff was so high he couldn't see the bottom.
How the hell had Davey survived? Well, that wasn't important. What was important now was figuring out how to rescue him.
"So...what are we going to do?" Jasper suddenly asked.
The boy was serious, as usual. His arms were crossed, though he seemed a little tense.
"Personally, I say we leave him there and go back to camp."
"What?! Are you crazy?!" Mr. Campbell retorted. "We have to rescue him!"
"Yeah, and how the fuck are we supposed to do that?" the boy replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh...I don't know," the man admitted, scratching the back of his neck, without even bothering to scold the boy for his foul language.
Jasper rolled his eyes and made a frustrated sound.
"You said you were a responsible adult," he reprimanded Campbell.
"I didn't think this would happen!"
"I literally told you it would! You idiot!"
Mr. Campbell sighed.
"Listen, Jasper," he said, "we can talk later, but right now Davey's the priority. He could be hurt, or in a dangerous part of the woods."
"I don't give a damn what happens to that idiot," the blond boy replied. "Good luck playing the hero. I'm out of here."
He waved goodbye and tried to leave, but Mr. Campbell stopped him, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him up.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you old pervert?!" Jasper struggled, trying to break free. "Let me go!"
"I'm not letting you go. I can't lose another camper," the man replied sternly. "You're not going anywhere until we get Davey out of there, young man."
Jasper scoffed.
He really wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
Suddenly, he noticed a small river, one he'd previously overlooked.
"What if we follow that river?" he suggested. "Rivers flow into low-lying areas. Maybe we can reach Davey and get the hell out of here."
Mr. Campbell looked at the river the boy was pointing to.
His face lit up.
"Jasper, you're right!" He lifted the boy up happily, then put him down again and patted his head.
Jasper was a little taken aback by the gesture, but quickly regained his composure.
"Yeah, whatever, let's just go."
"You're right, we should hurry," the man agreed. "Let's go!"
And so, the adult and the boy set off.
Davey was sitting near the mouth of a small river.
He hoped Mr. Campbell would rescue him soon.
His arm had been injured during the fall, so he tore a piece of his shirt and made a makeshift bandage, tying it around the wound like a handkerchief.
It still hurt a lot, and he was afraid it might have broken.
But, looking on the bright side, it looked really cool; he'd keep the handkerchief when himself healed.
"Stupid Jasper," he muttered, "I'm not giving him my dessert after this."
He was furious with the other boy; this had to be, by far, the worst prank he'd ever played on him.
He pulled out his knife and began stabbing the ground repeatedly to vent his anger.
He was so distracted doing this that he didn't notice something approaching.
Suddenly, he felt warm breath on the back of his neck and heard a growl.
Slowly, he turned around, coming face to face with a huge gray wolf, who was staring at him menacingly.
He felt his blood run cold.
"Hehe, cute little doggy," he said nervously, standing up and trying to back away, but the enormous animal lunged at him.
Davey screamed in pain and fear as he fell to the ground.
His knife flew out of his reach.
The wolf's jaws were wide open.
Davey felt himself wet his pants.
Tears streamed down his face.
He was completely petrified with horror.
The wolf was about to bite him in the throat when suddenly, a rock struck its snout.
The beast growled in pain and turned to see who had hit it.
It was Mr. Campbell.
Davey lay on the ground, still in shock, as the wolf approached the adult with the clear intention of killing him.
"Shit," Mr. Campbell muttered as he backed away.
He hadn't thought this through.
The wolf prepared to pounce, but a figure intercepted it.
It was Jasper.
"Jasper, what the hell are you doing?!" Mr. Campbell shouted, terrified for the boy's safety.
The blond boy ignored him and approached the wolf.
In his hand, he held Davey's knife, which he had picked up from the ground during the chaos.
The wolf attacked, leaping at him.
However, Jasper was faster.
With a swift movement and a war cry, he slashed the animal's throat.
It fell to the ground next to Davey.
The beast moaned horribly, writhing on the ground, while blood gushed from its neck.
Davey watched in horror as the animal's life ebbed away, and even more tears streamed down his face.
"That was fun," Jasper commented, approaching him with a huge grin.
His clothes were stained with blood, and his baseball cap had fallen off, revealing his disheveled and dirty hair.
"You were right, dude, this knife is radical," he said cheerfully.
He tried to give it back to Davey, but the redhead backed away.
Jasper shrugged and put the object in his pocket, clearly intending to keep it.
Mr. Campbell approached them.
He looked annoyed.
"Jasper, you could have died," he scolded the boy angrily. "That was very dangerous and irresponsible."
Jasper crossed his arms, staring at the ground, used to being reprimanded.
“But,” Mr. Campbell smiled, “you were also very brave: you saved Davey’s and my lives, and I’m very proud of you for that.”
He patted the boy on the head, who looked stunned.
“You…are…of me?” he seemed unable to believe the man’s words.
Mr. Campbell nodded.
Then he approached Davey.
“Are you okay?” he asked the boy.
He didn’t answer; his gaze was distant, and he remained silent.
“Come on, let’s go back to camp.” Mr. Campbell carefully picked him up and started walking.
Jasper hurried after them, still clearly surprised by Campbell’s words.
As they walked away, Davey watched the cave the wolf had come from.
Suddenly, he saw two small snouts poking out.
They were wolf pups.
The two pups surrounded the body of the larger wolf.
Their mother.
Davey said nothing, but felt his chest tighten in a way it never had before.
The three of them were up on the camp stage.
Davey had already been treated in the infirmary, given a proper bandage, and a change of clothes.
Since they had returned, he hadn't said a single word, worrying the Quartermaster, and surprisingly, Gregg and Darla as well, who hadn't stopped asking him if he was okay, without receiving a single answer.
Mr. Campbell was giving a speech, but Davey wasn't paying attention.
To him, all sounds were just white noise.
He was still trying to process everything he had just experienced.
"...And for his bravery, and for preventing my death and that of his fellow camper, I would like to have the honor of presenting Jasper with a badge of valor," Mr. Campbell finished his speech, with a smile.
The blond boy jumped when he heard his name.
"Me?" he asked, unable to believe it.
Mr. Campbell nodded.
He crouched down to the boy's level and carefully placed the badge on his shirt.
Jasper stared at it, his eyes shining and his mouth agape.
"I... I've never won anything before," he said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "It feels... it feels so good!"
He began to laugh, filled with joy.
"Look, everyone!" he boasted happily. "Guess who won a badge! Yep! It's me, Jasper!"
Mr. Campbell chuckled and patted the boy on the head, which he happily accepted.
Davey watched everything in silence.
He clenched his fists and felt an emotion begin to grow inside him.
Hate.
Without saying a word, he approached Jasper.
He raised his hand and punched him with all his might.
The boy fell to the ground, stunned.
There was silence.
Everyone was in shock at what had just happened.
"You...you're...you're a bastard!" Davey lunged at Jasper.
Fury blazed in his eyes.
He began to punch him, with rage.
All the rage he'd been holding back for far too long.
This wasn't just about that day.
It was about everything.
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" he continued, hitting him, tears streaming down his face. "I wish you were dead! I wish you'd actually do one of your fucking suicide threats and do us all a favor, you fucking idiot! Why don't you just die?! Die, die, die, die!"
Finally, the adults reacted.
Gregg and Darla restrained Davey, while Mr. Campbell and the Quartermaster checked that Jasper was okay.
Davey kicked and screamed, wanting to break free from his two counselors so he could keep hitting the other boy.
"Davey, calm down!" Darla yelled.
"Yeah, calm down, Davey!" Gregg added.
"Davey!"
"Davey!"
"David!"
The man snapped out of his reverie.
He looked at the steering wheel in his hands.
He was gripping it so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
"Didn't you hear me, idiot?" It was Nicolette, looking at him reproachfully with her hands on her hips.
Beside them, Max and Neil were asleep, cuddled up together.
"Uh...yeah, sorry, what's wrong?" David was still a little dazed.
"We passed the hospital six hours ago," the girl replied irritably.
David remained silent and stared out of the car.
It was night.
Suddenly, the car stopped.
It had run out of gas.
He let out a groan of agony and repeatedly banged his head against the steering wheel.
"I want to kill myself," he murmured.