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The camp doesn’t ever stop moving. Even at night, when all the campers have retreated to their tents, the forest shifts in the moonlight. Animals come out at night. Max swears he’s heard wolves before. Or a bear. He had tried to bring it up the next day, but Nikki only looked excited at the prospect of finding a wild, bloodthirsty animals in the neighbouring forest, and David had unloaded a 15 minute lecture about how safe they were here (Max hadn’t believed him for a second).
Max isn’t bothered by the danger. Five restless hours after sundown, he strides out of his tent, hands stuffed in his pockets.
He winds his way through the sleeping camp with ease. The sky is cloudless. The cabins glints in the starlight. The lake looks as though it’s frozen over. Frogs croak, and the trees shift nosily in the wind. An owl hoots, and somewhere in the distance, above the lawnmower snores of the other campers, someone is crying.
Max rounds the back of the cabin because he has no sense of self-preservation, and finds a grown man blubbering in the dirt.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t sink any lower,” Max says. He falls down next to David. The rocky ground is hard beneath his pyjama pants.
“Max.” David presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. “You should be in bed.”
“The ground is softer than the cardboard Campbell calls a mattress.”
“It’s against regulations to be out of your tent after dark.”
“It’s also against regulations to try and escape but that never stops me.” Max eyes David. The older man seems overwhelmed by his own wet cheeks. His hands try uselessly to press back the dripping tears. He doesn’t say anything to Max, doesn’t even look at him. Max scoffs and stands. “Whatever. I’m going to go see if I can hitchhike back to civilisation. Maybe I can get some old pervert to drive me somewhere with decent wifi.”
Max takes a step, but is yanked back by his wrist. David’s grip is unyielding.
“Don’t you dare try that,” David says. He sounds angry. “Max. I’m serious. Don’t ever hitchhike.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“I know you have, that’s why I’m so worried! You scared me last time. Anything could’ve happen to you.”
Max sits down and curls around his knees. “Who cares?”
David still hasn’t let go off Max’s wrist. He shakes it, gently but firmly, enough to make Max meet his eyes. Max was wrong; David doesn’t look angry. Beneath the slowing rush of tears, he looks frightened. “Please,” David says, “don’t hitchhike.”
Max snatches his hand back. “I won’t hitchhike if you fess up to whatever is causing the water works.”
“It’s nothing. I have bad dreams sometimes. I always have.” Max stares at him blankly. David’s plastic smile slides off his face. “Max, are the other campers happy here?”
“No.” Max pulls at the fraying hem of his jeans, and corrects, “Well, half the campers are too stupid to know this place is a money grabbing con-job. Idiots are happy anywhere.”
David deflates. The tears don’t come back, but he loses all his boundless energy, slumping back against the cabin’s wall. “Right.”
“So you’re crying because… all of us don’t jump out of bed in apoplectic joy in the morning? Newsflash, David, 90% of the world doesn’t. You’re just a freak of nature.”
“Apoplectic is a big word,” David notes. “I don’t think you’re using it right.”
“Adjectives are subjective. I’m an innovator.”
David smiles at him—it’s a wobbly and messy, his face awash with tears and snot. “You’re very bright for your age, Max. Smart. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Whatever.” Max kicks out at David’s feet. “Are you seriously having nightmares because other people might not be having a good time? That’s not selfless. That’s stupid.”
“I like making other people happy,” David says. Max kicks him again. David kicks him back. It’s more a nudge than anything, their sneakers banging against each other harmlessly. "And happy people don’t leave their tents in the middle of the night and wander around alone, Max.”
“I don’t get nightmares.” Max pauses there, but David doesn’t say anything more. The stars cover the sky in clusters, like thickets of wildflowers coating the forest floor. Max says, like a challenge, “I have insomnia.”
“You can’t sleep?”
“That’s the definition. Gold star.” Max doesn’t meet David’s pinched gaze. He sets about drawing circles in the dirt by his knee. “It’s not a big deal. I just don’t sleep much.”
“What do your parents do for you when you can’t sleep?”
Max erases all the dirt markings with his fist. “My parents don’t know.”
“You should tell—”
“They have to be home to notice the pattern.” Max considers the ground for a moment more, before tipping his head back and glowering up at the stars. “They know I’m usually up late at night, but unless I get in their way…” David waits for him to finish again. His patience tonight is infuriating. Max rewards it with a sardonic smile, and a chirper, “I try not to get in their way. Hurts less, that way.”
“What can I do?”
“Mind your own business?”
“I get nightmares,” David says, “and you have insomnia. I could keep you company.”
“Why would I voluntarily spend more time with you?”
“You could keep me company,” David rephrases. “C’mon, Max. We could borrow some of Gwen’s hot chocolate satchels and play cards.”
“How many nightmares do you have in one night?”
“Usually just the one… It’s getting back to sleep that’s the issue, but once I’ve calmed down—”
Max cuts through David’s honesty, “As fun as this has been, I’ve got to get back before Neil wakes up and thinks I’ve been carried off by wolves.”
Max gets up, brushes off his pyjama pants, and walks away. David scrambles to his feet. “Max—”
“You stopped crying,” Max says. He’s not facing David; he doesn’t see the older man touch his drying face like he’s surprised by the lack of fresh tears. “That seems pretty calm to me, David.”
“Max—”
“Goodnight, you big crybaby.”
Three days later, Campbell arrives in a truck ridden with bullet-holes, towing a trailer full of dubious looking canoes. He stays long enough to unhook the trailer and send off a quick salute to an unimpressed Gwen and an ecstatic David. He climbs back into the truck and takes off, wheels spinning in the dirt.
Max stares at the hunks of plastic. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, YES,” David says. He claps his hands and spins in a circle. “Gwen, get the lifejackets! Campers, we’re going canoeing!”
Nikki is already tearing off towards to the lake, tugging Neil along by the wrist. The other campers trudge along behind them with varying levels of dread. David is already by the shore, even though he’s going to have to double-back to help Gwen with the canoes, ores, and lifejackets.
The only person around to hear is Gwen, but still, Max says, with no small amount of hatred, “I’m going to drown myself.”
Gwen eyes the heavy canoes. “Drown me first, kid.”
“Suicide pact? Nice.”
Gwen snorts. “And to think, yesterday you said there was no such thing as friendship.”
For all her talk of friendship, Gwen retreats to the cabin to complete paperwork, leaving the supervision of campers to David. He makes them pair of. Neil and Nikki team up, and everyone else snags a partner quickly. Max stands in the sun and scowls at the paired off crowd. It feels like high school again, right down to the headache thumping behind his eyes.
“I guess you’re with me, partner,” David says. He stuffs Max into a lifejacket, before clipping one on himself. It’s too big on Max, and far too small on David, like a second, fluorescent orange vest over his first.
They climb onto a canoes and paddle out into the middle of the lake. David does most of the work, and it’s only his experience and strength that stops them from spinning in circles. Max crosses his arms over his ore and keeps blinking to clear his vision.
The other campers don’t having as much luck as David; half of the canoes are clustered together by the pier like a floating traffic jam. The campers swear and try to untangle themselves to no avail. Nerris tries to cast a dark magic curse on Nurf.
“Hey! No black magic allowed, Nerris, we talked about this after the necromancy incident, Hey, there’s no need for violence—oh, goodness, I’m going to have to go over there, aren’t I?”
“I’m staying here,” Max says. The sun beats down overhead and leeches all the energy from his body. It’s so hot. “If you make me go, I swear I’ll drown Space Kid, and there’ll be nothing you can do to stop me.”
David takes in Max’s sagging form, and sighs. “Alright. Stay here. Don’t try and go anywhere, okay, Max?”
David hands his ore to Max, and with a rebounding splash that soaks the front of Max’s hoodie, he dives into the water. Max splutters. David free-strokes towards his tangled campers.
The wet hoodie is cold against Max’s chest. He shivers despite the heat of the day and tugs his sleeves down. “Stupid stolen canoes. Stupid Gwen. Stupid David.”
The campers by the pier shout and splash about. David must’ve reached him; above the din of shrieking children, Max can hear him trying to placate the kids with that stupid, soothing voice of his.
Max’s eyes droop. Where was this tiredness last night when he was trying to sleep? He slumps in his seat. His hands slide over the wet plastic of the canoe. Floating between the cusp of consciousness and sleep, Max feels weightless, like he could slip into the sky and away from this hellhole, like he’s tumbling right over the edge of a cliff.
When Max falls into the lake, his splash is quieter than David’s had been. Cold water rushes up his nose. Max chokes on a mouthful of lake water. He thrashes and sinks. The cheap, brightly coloured lifejacket does nothing to keep him up.
“M—x!”
Underwater, Max doesn’t hear the other campers. He doesn’t hear Neil and Nikki’s elated shouts turn to horror. He doesn’t hear David dive back into the water. He only hears his own pulse in his ears like a freight train.
But Max feels it when a pair of arms grab him and pull him up. He feels it when he breaks the surface of the water. He gasps, his lungs burning, and thrashes compulsively like a fish struggling on dry land.
“Max!” David pulls him closer, even when Max’s elbow skids off his forehead. “Max, calm down. I’ve got you!” Max wilts and goes limp against David’s chest. “I’ve got you.”
“Your buddy system sucks,” Max says against David’s lifejacket. He pokes it, even though his arms feel like lead. “And these things are shitty knock-offs.”
David doesn’t let go of him. Even when he hoists Max back into the canoes and paddles to shore, he keeps one hand on Max’s back as though he’s afraid he’ll tip back into the lake. It makes rowing awkward, but David manages.
Gwen waiting when they get back. “What happened?”
David helps Max onto the pier. The thing quakes beneath their feet. David crouches before Max and holds him by both shoulders, and Max realises that it’s him that’s shaking, not the pier. Typical. All the things that belong to this camp are run down and don’t work properly—it fits that Max is, too.
“I decided to go through with our pact by myself,” Max says.
David ignores that and pushes Max’s soaked fringe out of his face. His hand lingers there. “You’re burning up…”
“It’s hot.”
“You’re not sunburnt.”
“I’m not a pasty white guy, David.”
David takes hold of Max’s chin and peers into his eyes. Whatever he sees there makes him purse his lips. “How long have you been sick?”
“Max is sick?” Nikki asks. “But we’re supposed to go hiking tomorrow! He promised to help me catch a bear.”
“We share a tent,” Neil says with dawning horror. “Have I been infected with his germs?”
“You need to lie down,” Gwen tells Max, while Neil sticks his tongue out for inspection and motions to Nikki to check his tonsils. Nikki shoves a stick into Neil’s open mouth, and the taller boy splutters and chokes while Nikki cackles. “Fluids. Rest. No hiking.”
“I’m fine.” Gwen stares at him, unimpressed. “I’ve just been out in the sun too long. I’m not sick.”
“Hi, not-sick,” David says. “I’m David.”
Max covers his face with his hands and groans like he’s in pain. David uses the distraction to scoop Max up around the knees. He lifts, throwing the boy over his shoulder, and strides towards the cabin.
“Gwen,” David says over his shoulder, “watch the campers.”
Max bangs on David’s back. “Put me down, old man!”
“Don’t worry, Max, I won’t let being sick ruin your summer. We can play card games. You can help me with the activity schedule.”
“Nikki, Neil, get him! Aim for the knees!”
Neil is on his hands and knees, retching after suffering a stick to the throat. Nikki waves pleasantly at Max’s flailing form. “Have fun, Max!”
David deposits Max on a futon in the office. They don’t have a med-bay; they have a first aid kit with out of date medicine, and a creaky futon David has covered in a bright comforter. The yellow monstrosity hurts Max’s eyes. He squeezes them shut and rolls onto his side.
David disappears and returns with dry clothes. David leaves again. Max changes, bundles up his wet clothes, and throws the wad into the corner of the room. He pulls the ugly comforter around his shoulders because he misses his soaked blue hoodie, not because he’s feverish and shaking violently in the cool cabin.
David returns with two cups. He hands one to Max. “Gwen keeps moving her stash, but I keep finding it. I know this camp inside and out.”
“That’s not something to be proud of, David.” Max takes the mug, and holds it against himself. Steam wafts from the hot chocolate and Max breathes it in. “Fuck, this smells bad.”
“It’s the cheap kind,” David admits. “Are you cold? Do you need more blankets?” Max glowers blearily up at him. David takes a seat on the futon, and he looks especially young when he says, “You really scared me out there, Max.”
“Shut up.”
“How long have you been sick? Is it a bug? Is someone else sick, did you pick it up from them?”
“Calm down.” Max shivers deeper into the comforter. He watches floating clumps of hot chocolate mixture that haven’t dissolved into the hot milk rather than the camp councillor hovering by his side. “I told you, didn’t I? Fucking insomnia.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
Max squints at the window. The light is beginning to weaken; it’ll be sunset, soon. David was going to sit the campers out on the pier and watch the glowing sky together. Now he’s stuck inside with Max. “When’s the last time you slept without crying like a baby?”
“Max.”
“I slept last night.” Max risks a glance at a frowning David, and sighs. “Alright. It was four nights ago.”
“Four?!”
“I’ve been napping.”
“That’s not healthy!”
“I’m not doing it just to piss you off, I can’t fucking sleep.”
David breathes in, stands up, and leaves. When he comes back, his arms are laden with pillows and blankets—taken from his own bed, Max guesses, judging from the Steven Universe bedspread.
David dumps it at the floor by Max’s futon. “It’s been about a week,” he says, “since I slept without waking up crying.”
“We’ve both got issues,” Max says, unkindly.
David beams, and it’s a hard thing to stare at, like looking directly at the sun. “Good thing we’re here together, then.”
Max sucks up his hot chocolate while David goes around the office and unearths a pack of playing cards; a few board games; a gameboy and a DS tucked away in a drawer.
Max steals David’s untouched hot chocolate while the counsellor is preoccupied and gulps that down, too. The wet chill is beginning to seep from his skin, chased away by the warmth unfurling in his stomach. His nose is still blocked, and his eyes burn, the world fuzzy from lack of sleep, but tucked up in a putrid yellow comforter, he finally, finally relaxes.
Tonight, Max might actually be able to get some sleep.