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"Goddammit." Max cursed under his breath.
The night air was cool, but not cool enough to chill his hot temper. He violently kicked a rock into the lake surrounding him. With an agonizingly louder than intended splash, glittering droplets erupted and rippled out into the large lake illuminated in white by the reflection of the full moon. Gwen's pack of cigarettes seemed to stare back at him, tauntingly.
"Nikki managed to steal an entire pack of fags but not a single fucking lighter, just perfect. This is exactly what I wanted: useless sticks." He popped one in his mouth and bit down, "Look, it's a metaphor! A metaphor for how nothing ever goes right, nobody gets what they want in life and that's fine because everything is pointless anyways."
He collapsed to the dock, spitefully spitting out the cigarette into the water and tossing the rest to the side. He wanted to be alone, but not like this. Peace and quiet and something to give in to, like the putrid odor of smoke simmering over his tense nerves, would have been nice. Not this unforgiving silence mocking his shortcomings. Not the creeping loneliness hanging in the still air. He scowled at the bright moon, shining in his piercing green eyes.
"This god forsaken day is almost done for and nobody found out. Thank Satan."
His hand drifted over a stray rock on the wooden boards of the pier. He idly grabbed it, rough edges yet smooth texture, cool in his warm fist. He considered skipping it across the shimmering surface of the lake but then remembered something stupid. He examined the stone. Black. It's not like Max had spent much time studying rocks nor would he ever want to, but he had a random hunch that this stone might in fact be flint. A debatably ridiculous idea struck.
He pulled a cigarette from the box, clasped his shoes around it to hold it up while keeping his hands free. He looked for anything vaguely metallic until his eyes fell onto the glistening metal of his jacket zipper. He unzipped it and readied the largest part of the zipper against the flint, then promptly rolled his eyes.
"I can't believe I'm really fucking doing this right now."
David would lose his shit if he saw him using nature skills of his own free will. What could he say, he was desperate. David would also probably lose his shit if he saw Max trying to light a cigarette, but he wasn't here right now and frankly that wouldn't change a damn thing.
Max chucked his zipper across the flint as hard as he could muster while positioning the cigarette just right so that it would catch a flame if he was lucky enough to produce a spark. He grunted louder with each attempt.
"Come on you stupid piece of shit."
He tried hastening his speed, increasing the force, finesse- it didn't make a difference. Maybe the composition of his zipper didn't work as well as steel might have. That or he just wasn't doing it right. In all honesty, he didn't have a clue what he was doing, but he was left with no other options.
"Come on, come on, what the fuck is wrong with you. Just do it already! Goddammit, work- be useful! Do something for once! Ugh!"
He yelped as he lost his hold and his knuckles suddenly scraped across the hard edge of the stone, "FUCK!"
Max flung the rock into the lake and held his bloody knuckles to his chest, wincing in pain. Bright red blood dripped between his fingers and onto his shirt. He pounded his foot against the dock in response to the excruciating, mostly shocking, stinging, trying to keep expletives behind his teeth. Stupid fucking piece of shit rock. Asinine ass goddamn nature. Fuck this hell hole of a camp. He puffed out a steady breath of air as the throbbing began to numb slightly. Great. Now what was he supposed to do with this hand full of gore? He could wash it off with the lake water, but knowing good old Camp Campbell, that could either lure a school of piranhas straight to him or he could pick up an unhealthy serving of horrible lake and blood related diseases. He resorted to covering it with his unscathed hand for now.
Or maybe he shouldn't nurse his hand at all. Maybe he could sit here and bleed out. That sounds like an easy enough way to get out of this shit hole. Maybe, with luck, his limp, bloodless body would fall into the lake and nobody would ever find him. Not like anyone would care to look anyways.
His thoughts sunk deep into this self deprecating vein- imagining how relieved his parents would be if they found out their little shit head fucking died at the camp they shipped him off to. They never wanted to see him again, well, they would really get their wish then. Nobody would care.
His face started to heat up and tears welled in his eyes. He quickly wiped them with his sweater but more followed. Soon his jacket would be stained with blood and tears and that pissed him off even more. Why didn't anybody care about him? Why would it be okay if he died right now? Is that what everyone wants? Would everyone be better off if he were dead? His parents, the other campers, David, Gwen. Maybe they would all be a lot happier if they didn't have to deal with the bullshit he always puts them through. He just wanted someone to care.
Whatever. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. No one cares. He scowled at the ripples in the water and scratched at the boards beneath him, ripping out splinters.
"Max?"
Fuck. He instinctively turned at the sound of his name, and of course it was David- who else would it be- but he whipped back, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and shoved the bloody hand in his coat pocket hoping, praying to imaginary gods he didn't notice.
"What are you doing out here, camper? You're missing the Quarter Master's specialty dinner!" David's sing song voice crept closer.
"David, do you even believe half of the shit you say?" He hissed, hoping his voice wasn't shaking, "If we're both eating the same 'specialty' dinner every fucking night, I'm not missing a damn thing."
"Language. Gosh, isn't that moon beautiful tonight?" David stood next to him, nose up to the sky, head obviously lost in the clouds, hands planted on his hips triumphantly. Max hated that dopey, simpering look he got when overtly turning every normal thing into something necessary of appreciation. Max's subsequent eye roll landed on the pack of cigarettes by his thigh. His heart dropped like a block of lead.
"It's hard to find a better place to see the stars than right here at Camp Campbell. Although I would've preferred you told me where you were going, I think you picked the perfect place to be on a night as special as this." His cheery voice grated on Max's ears, and the fact that he actually sounded so sincere made it even worse.
"Nothing is special about tonight. Fuck this, I'm out." As discreetly as he could manage, he pocketed the cigarette pack, sniffed, then made his exit.
David let out an uncharacteristically controlled sigh. Max couldn't care less if he was butt hurt for not having an audience for him to embellish the same shitty night he was looking at. But without turning around, David reached into his pocket and pulled from it a shiny metallic rectangular object.
"Looking for this?" He asked, which might've sounded coy if his voice hadn't been so off-puttingly flat.
Max squinted, not quite making it out in the dark, and took a few steps forward. Upon realizing, he stopped cold and his face flushed of color.
David brandished a lighter, silver shining in the light of the moon. He turned to face the child now. His back was against the light so that shadows veiled most of his face, but Max could see the grossly subtle sympathy mixed with disappointment in his eyes. It hurt. He's not sure if any punishment would've hurt more than the dismal expression his counselor wore. Well, no, getting his ass kicked probably would have hurt more, but this still sucked. David turned to face the moon again and slowly descended to sit on the edge of the dock.
"Come sit with me, Max."
It was an honest invitation with an added pat to the empty space next to him on the dock. He couldn't help but feel patronized in a way that made his insides churn. Had Max declined and ran away, David probably would have let him, at least for a while. But inevitably he would end up in the same situation, faced with the same annoyingly concerned look in those blue eyes.
"What do you want David?" He scowled at him, not moving an inch.
"I just want to have a conversation."
"Suck my dick."
"Max."
Fuck. That soft, non-threatening voice. Why didn't he want to hurt him? Isn't that what he deserved? To be punished? To be taken by the wrist and thrown against the wall? To slam the door and lock him in his room until he learns how to behave. To starve after being forgotten, all alone. Didn't he deserve bruises and confinement and agony? Didn't he deserve to learn? He grit his teeth, forcing the tears back. He would not show weakness in front of David again. But David was patient. He didn't laugh, he didn't push him, he simply waited.
He was right about the place. It was the perfect spot to look at the stars right in between the trees, separated by the resplendent body of water. The colossal moon framed by the silhouette of frail branches and gentle leaves painted a mesmerizing contrast. Max begrudgingly stepped forward until he reached David at the edge of the dock. Max side eyed his counselor to catch a wistful smile, eyes lost in the horizon. It confused him. This is stupid, why did he waste the time and effort to get the cigarettes in the first place? Unfortunately, internally cringing and regretting the decision didn't make David go away.
The taller man rested his arm on a knee he kept up so that only one of his shoes was brushing against the water. Max joined him in sitting, legs dangling off the edge. He couldn't stand to look at his strange expression anymore, resorting to glaring lasers into the nails holding the dock together.
"I want you to know I'm not mad at you." David started, calmly.
"Of course," Max furrowed his brows and resumed ripping splinters out of the boards involuntary, "Of fucking course you're not mad- you only have one setting and that's denial, David. No reasonable person should have as much optimism as you. Why do you think all of us nearly destroy the camp every day? It's because you never get mad. Don't you see that if you keep forgiving us we'll all turn out to be drug addicts and serial killers and it'll be your fault, you idiot. Of course, then maybe no kid would be allowed near camp Campbell ever again after the correlation is made and this shit hole will finally erase from existence."
David closed his eyes as if to block out Max's ranting, "Im not mad, because I understand."
This brought his attention to look at him. He's full of shit. "How could you understand? How could you understand when you're too busy jacking off on your own delusional optimism? Besides, I don't give a shit if you understand- why the hell would I care?"
The smile fell from his face. "Well, those are my cigarettes, after all."
Mouth agape, eyes wide Max whispered in bewilderment, "What?"
David glanced at Max, "You didn't think so?"
"No, what the hell- Gwen's the one with anxiety problems! I thought for sure she was the one hiding these." Suddenly, laughter bubbled up from his belly, "But looks like you're just as fucked as she is!!" The laughter erupted now, mocking and echoing off the mountains, "Admit it! You can't fucking stand any one of us!"
"That's not it-" David raised defensive hands but was interrupted as Max fell over, howling laughter taking over his small body.
"Jesus Christ, I fucking knew it! I knew it was all an act! You don't give a shit about us at all, in fact, we're making your life a living hell!"
"MAX!" David shouted. Max ceased his cackling and in its place grew almost immediate scorn.
The smaller of the two stood up in one motion and looked his counselor in the eyes. Green eyes glowed with rage. He stood inches away from his face, mindless of the spit that sputtered with his seething taunts, "Go ahead, David. Raise your voice- that's it, let me have it. Tell me how you really feel, you lying bastard!"
David grabbed Max's arms and with a desperate shake yelled, "I'm afraid!"
Max fell silent. He searched the man's watery blue eyes, the tensing of all the muscles in his face, the distraught wrinkles in his forehead and under his eyes, then the firm, painful grip on his tiny arms. Max wasn't sure how to react. He couldn't tell if he was surprised or scared or worried that David might actually hurt him for once. He tried to move but David had an iron hold on him. The man had finally snapped.
Coming to, David released the boy and ran a hand through his crimson hair, looking shocked and ashamed, as if he didn't have control over his body in that unprecedented moment. He tried to regain what little composure he had left and continued, "I am. I'm afraid for you."
"For me?" Almost disgusted, Max raised a brow and took a hesitant step back.
"Of losing you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
David put his face in one hand, frustrated, "Your parents, Max. We're nearing the end of camp. Soon a bus will come to bring all of you back home to your families, and I don't know what that means for you." He made eye contact, "All I know is that I won't be able to be there for you. I won't be able to protect you or stop you from doing things like this." He gestured vaguely to Max's pockets, where the cigarettes were poorly hidden.
Max huffed, "Yeah, well, guess what? I don't need you, David. It'll be nice not seeing you around and having you tell me what to do every damn day."
"But will you be safe?" David looked at the young boy, stern yet pleading.
Max grimaced, "Who gives a shit?"
"I do! I give a shit about you, Max."
The air was uncomfortably silent. Max was tired of this tension and started to leave but stopped in his tracks once David spoke, "I grew up in an abusive household. I'll admit, I have no clue what your family is like. All I know is that when things got bad at home, which was every day, I would do anything I could to forget it. Sometimes that meant running away, sometimes that meant throwing rocks at teachers, and sometimes that meant sneaking into my mother's alcohol stash and trying to poison myself with it. That only ever made my problems worse, but nothing would ever change as long as no one cared about me. But to my disbelief, that all changed when I found happiness and acceptance right here at Camp Campbell." Max tried not to roll his eyes, which David caught, "That doesn't mean that every day after that was a good day, but I did feel like I could conquer any challenge I was faced with, and when I couldn't, I knew that I had friends to support me. I see a lot of myself in you, Max. So when I say I understand, I really, really do. And if you're going through what I went through at home, then frankly I would hate myself if I sent you back there."
Max didn't know what to say. Things at home were rough, sure, but he didn't have another choice. David had to go home too, it's not like he could just live at the empty camp. What was he supposed to do? He receded back into his nihilistic persona, "Yeah. Life sucks, nobody gets what they want and nobody cares. What are you going to do about it, David?"
He sighed, "I don't know."
"Yeah, finally, good to see you've gained some common sense and joined the rest of us." Max, fuming now, gestured wildly with his hands and paced around David, "You know why nothing gets done and the world never changes? Because nobody knows what to fucking do about it. All we know is how to complain about our problems, and when that evidently doesn't make them go away we push them to the side, lay them on somebody else so they can deal with it, or just ignore them completely. When the problems inevitably come back around to haunt us, the only way we know how to cope is to is cover up the guilt with chemicals and find validation in other pieces of shit who have the same problems. This is the pathetic evolution of the human race! Nothing will ever change so stop pretending like you can make a difference."
"You're right." David stood up and composed himself. He held out an open palm and ordered, "Let me see your hand."
It took a second for Max to register why the fuck he would ask something so gay but upon examining his hands he was instantly reminded of the blood, now mostly dry, covering his left hand. Although this slight embarrassment only added to his shitty mood, he complied. David knelt down to Max's height and pulled out a roll of gauze which of course he carried in his back pocket. He would expect nothing less from the man who goes camping to get away from camping.
As he gently wrapped the laceration, he stated, "You're right that sometimes people like to pretend that everything is okay when it's not. Sometimes people pretend that they can heal a wound in a night. But you can't, no one can. However, I'd like to think that wrapping this will keep it from getting any worse."
He used a Swiss Army knife to cut off the excess. His expertise was something to be admired, but Max immediately shoved his hand into his jacket pocket without giving it a second's notice. David pocketed his tools, rested his hands on his knees and looked at Max deeply in the eyes, "And I'd like to think that adopting you will help heal your pain."
Max blinked. His mind went blank.
Adoption? From David? "This is some kind of fucked up joke, right?"
David offered a sympathetic smile, one that Max had to admit he missed in all of this somber back and forth, "It's not a perfect solution. I'd need your parents' consent, and most importantly: yours. You don't have to answer today, there's still a week left of camp. I just want you to be safe, Max. I want you to know that you are special and I care about you." He touched his shoulder and smoothed his thumb over it in an attempt to reassure the boy. With downcast eyes he continued, "If you decide to go back home with your parents then I won't stop you, but I will make sure that you can contact me at any time if you ever need help."
Max was dumbfounded. This confrontation was so awkward for him. Half of him felt angry at David for subjecting him to this mushy torture, and the other half felt weak. He hated that part of him. The part that wanted to give into his comforting touch and feel the warm embrace of someone who actually cared if he were dead or alive. His bandaged fingers brushed over the pack of cigarettes, the evil object that started this whole charade. He felt shame and helplessness. Without saying a word, he handed the pack over for the owner to reclaim. David smiled. That proud look in his bright blue eyes made Max's blood boil but he accepted it as punishment, even if he couldn't stand it for more than a second and ended up turning his face away. He felt a hand ruffle his dark curls as David accepted the pack and stood up.
"Come on, Max. There's something waiting for you in the Mess Hall."
Max blanched, "The hell does that mean? Is this a trap? You didn't plant some kind of bomb in there to kill me so I could never go home, right?"
David shook his head with an unsettlingly content smile and beckoned him to follow. Max shrugged, figuring that he'd at least be twitter famous with an elaborate death like this.
As they approached the cabin, David deposited the pack of cigarettes into the trash. Max couldn't help the reproachful glare he flashed in David's direction for such a huge waste, but the man dismissed it and wiped his hands as if to brush off the negative energies of the whole affair.
"We won't be needing those any more, but I am going to hold onto this lighter." He flashed it, even igniting the small flame in a showy display of the tool.
"Right, so you can light the bomb?"
"No, Max." He prepared to open the door with a cheerful yet mischievous grin, "So I can light your candles."
"What?!" Max flinched in a shock so overwhelming that when David opened the door to reveal all of the campers bursting from hiding spots exclaiming 'surprise!' his brain went numb. David guided him inside since he seemed to have trouble doing anything short of being paralyzed.
"Nikki," Neil chastised, "Remind me why you thought it was a good idea for your hiding spot to be inside of the cake?"
Nikki, icing dripping off of her face and body, explained from the remains of what Max assumed was supposed to be his birthday cake on top of the table, "Men love it when ladies come from cream pies! At least, that's what I heard my dad say one time!"
"Well you ruined the whole damn cake!"
Dolph whined, "Yes, and I worked really hard on it too..."
Nerris raised a red frosted cupcake above her head, "At least we still have these potions of supreme healing!"
Ered chimed in, "Cupcakes are the cooler version of cakes."
Preston barged through the crowd, "I say that you all were flat actors and we need to do it all over again, this time with more passion on the word 'surprise!' David, take the audience outside for a do-over! We'll really surprise him this time!"
Max was having trouble processing it all. This is the first time anyone has ever celebrated his birthday and he couldn't decide if the feeling of a gaggle of his peers anxious to please him was pleasant or not.
"I forgot to get you a present, Max!" Harrison fibbed, presenting an empty top hat, "Or did I? Some money!" A rabbit suddenly emerged from the hat and scampered off. "No- not a bunny! Some money!" A gooey substance spilled out, "No, not honey- hold on." He continued to pull incorrect items from his hat as covertly as possible while standing right next to him.
David plucked a candle from the desecrated birthday mush and poked it into one of Nerris' cupcakes. He flicked the lighter and brought Max's hands to hold the pastry while he lit it.
Max cocked his head, perplexed and a little creeped out, "How the hell did you find out it was my birthday today?"
Gwen sauntered over with a piece of gray construction paper, "Remember Paper Craft Camp Day? You made this," She revealed the page, cut into a shape of a tombstone with Max's name, birthdate, time of death and 'Thanks Obama,' written on it, "You set yourself up with that one, buddy."
"Why do you still have that?" He eyed David suspiciously, "Don't tell me, you hung them all up on your fridge, didn't you?"
With wide eyes and a bright smile, David nodded. Max rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. Just as he was about to blow out the candle David interjected with frantic hands, "Wait, wait, wait! No birthday is complete without..." At rocket speed he retrieved his guitar and with a hearty strum he called for everyone to join him.
"Goddammit!"
David tortured him with a drawn out and elaborate birthday song that every single kid echoed to create a horrendous cacophony of tone deaf infants and David's overzealous broadway vocal chords. He made sure not to forget the extended version of "and many more on channel four, etc." at a rapid fire pace that no one could keep up with.
While that frivolity was underway, Max took a moment to think of a wish, despite not believing in that kind of shit. No one noticed him blow out the candle, which he honestly preferred, and he silently hoped that his wish would come true. The smoke drifted past his nose and he acknowledged that he finally got what he wanted, albeit not in the way he was expecting.
Nurf stomped toward Max. His usually intimidating nature had no effect on Max's aloof posture which was appropriate considering Nurf had been making a lot of progress with controlling his emotions.
"I know it's not much, but this is pretty much all I have to give that isnt a wedgie or a punch to the face which I realize would be uncouth." He prefaced.
Max couldn't believe his eyes when Nurf handed him a half-empty box of cigarettes.
He took the pack and gleaned over it, "Well isn't that just fucking ironic? Where did you get these anyways?"
"My mom forgot them when she was here last. I doubt they would've let her keep them in the cell anyways, I'm sure she'd love for you to have them."
"I highly doubt that but okay. You couldn't have given these to me at the beginning of the day? You had to wait until now?" He glowered at him.
"I admit, it was a last minute gift, and I apologize for that."
Max glanced at David who was still singing around the other kids whom seemed only mildly interested. Though focused on his performance, his keen perception allowed him to flash a look of disapproval in Max's direction, but he would be damned if he stopped the song at channel eighty.
"You can keep them, Nurf." Max placed them back in Nurf's hulking hands.
The larger of the two crushed the pack in his meaty fingers, "Why? You don't like the gift I got you?"
Max was unfazed by this show, "No, you actually got me exactly what I wanted, congratulations on that. It's just..." he looked to David one more time, "I don't need them anymore."
Nurf shrugged, "Alright, I'll give them to Space Kid then."
With that, Max was alone. At this rate, David was going to end up adopting the whole camp, one kid under the influence after another.
David strummed the final note of his song which earned a strained "FINALLY," from Preston. The counselor discarded his instrument and caught up to Max.
"Hey! Enjoying your surprise party?"
Max scanned the room. All of his friends were laughing and stuffing their faces with sweets. Space Kid was already being pressured to hot box his fish bowl helmet with smoke. Harrison was still pulling random shit out of his hat. Max shrugged, "Eh."
David shared a warm smile with him, "I'm proud of you, Max. Happy Birthday."
Max felt his chest heat up. He made the decision, while no one was looking, to hug David for maybe two seconds longer than last time. David ruffled the boy's hair again before ushering him off to his friends.
Nikki's eyes sparkled once they caught a glimpse of Max's bandaged hand, "Ooooh, what happened to your hand? Did a bear get to it?"
"Let me guess, you thought it would be cool to put out a cigarette on your bare skin, didn't you?" Neil reprimanded.
Nikki shushed him, "Hey!!! I told you no one was supposed to know about that!"
Space Kid, drowning in smoke, coughed out, "What's going on? Is Max dying?"
"Don't worry about it, guys," Max smiled, "I'll be okay."