Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I thought you weren’t going to come back this year,” Jack said as he and Davey shared his hammock outside the director’s cabin, sharing a pack of Skittles.

“I wasn’t,” Davey replied, his long fingers searching through the bag. “Spot convinced me. Did you eat the last red one?”

Jack took the bag back and combed through for himself. “I’m sure your wonderful and generous boyfriend had nothing to do with it.” He handed Davey a red Skittle that he found hiding at the bottom of the pack.

“Nah. I can see you whenever. Without having to wrangle a bunch of children.”

Jack bumped Davey’s shoulder with his own, making the hammock sway dangerously. The spindly trees that it was attached to creaked ominously. “ Stop that ,” Davey said, grasping the edge of the hammock with one hand and Jack for the other, hanging on for dear life. “I told you these trees aren’t strong enough for both of us.”

“But this is the best spot,” Jack replied, pouting. It was a really nice hammock spot. Their feet dangled above the rocky bank of the small creek, and they had a clear view of the big field and nearby woods, where they had watched a passing flock of wild turkeys about fifteen minutes earlier.

Davey grabbed Jack’s wrist, lifting it up so that he could read Jack’s watch. “What time is everyone getting here?”

“When are you going to get a new watch?” Jack countered, instead of answering the question.

“When you buy me a new one, since you pushed me into the pool and broke it. What time?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Race, Crutchie and Specs should be here in about half an hour for an admin meeting, and the rest of the guys will be here by five.”

“Alright,” Davey replied. “I’m going to go read. Can I use the golf cart?”

Jack hesitated. “Uh, no. We weren’t really supposed to be using it in the off season in the first place. Especially not you.”

“But it’s so far ,” Davey whined, collapsing against Jack, who just laughed and shoved him off.

“You’re so lazy. Get up- I’ll give you a ride.”

Being back in Flushing cabin almost felt like coming home. If, that is, your home had no air conditioning or wifi and an outdoor bathroom and three sets of bunk beds and a box fan propping the window open. Davey had claimed his old bunk earlier that day when he arrived early. Being able to get there early may have seemed like a perk of dating the camp director at first, but immediately after dropping off his suitcase, Jack had Davey working on putting handbooks and welcome packets together for the rest of the staff. A paper cut later, Davey was really wishing that he had just waited until five o’clock like everyone else.

Now, though, he was free for a few hours. Through the open window, he could hear the rustling of wind and the croaking of the bullfrogs down the hill in the lake below. It was already swelteringly hot. Davey knew that he would get used to the heat- sort of- but for now, he angled the box fan toward his bunk as he leaned against the wall and cracked open his book.

Up the hill at the admin building, Jack sat on the outside steps, leg shaking erratically, waiting for the admin staff to arrive. These guys were some of his best friends, and although he would technically be their boss, having them as part of admin felt more like a team. Specs, who had been at the camp for as long as Jack had, would be stepping up as assistant director. Race would be taking Jack’s old position as head counselor, and Crutchie would take over Race’s position as program director.

Five minutes early, to no surprise, Specs pulled up. Immaculate as always, he somehow made a tank top and gym shorts look chic and professional. He hooted as he got out of the car, bringing back an old signal that he and Jack, as well as the rest of their group of friends, used to use as kids. Jack hooted back and the two of them hugged, complete with a lot of slaps on the back. They sat around outside, waiting for Crutchie and Race, who were carpooling and late, while catching up. Specs had graduated and spent a few weeks as part of a touring ballet troupe. “You and Romeo broke up, right?” Jack asked.

Specs nodded. “Yeah. It just didn’t really work out. With the distance thing and me travelling all the time… anyway, we’re just better off as friends. We still talk all the time, though, so it’s cool.”

“Do you know what he’s doing this summer?”

“Yeah,” Specs replied. “He’s got an internship with some speech therapy clinic.”

Jack shook his head. “Not gonna be the same without him.” Guys came and went every summer. Romeo would be a tough loss, but the ones who left were replaced by new ones every year. Mountain Ridge tended to retain employees pretty well, but camp wasn’t the end plan for most of the guys- except for Jack.

Fifteen minutes late, Race’s car whipped into the parking lot, ending up completely crooked in a parking space. He had had it for under a year, but the car already had a large dent in the front bumper and he was driving on a spare tire. Where Specs was neat and put together, Race and Crutchie were total messes. One of Race’s shoes was untied, Crutchie had a stain on his shirt that Jack was pretty sure came from spilled Taco Bell on the way there, and their clothes were both so wrinkled that they almost looked intentional. Crutchie’s hair poked out from beneath his hat in all directions and Race’s sunglasses had one arm taped on with neon green duct tape.

Jack and Crutchie yelled simultaneously and Jack ran at Crutchie, nearly knocking him over with the force of his hug. “Good to see who really matters here,” Race said sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Jack said over Crutchie’s shoulder. “We’re having a moment here.”

“Yeah,” Crutchie added. “Don’t interrupt our romantic reunion.”

It took them half an hour for them to get on track, but finally, the four of them spread out on the floor with staff lists and schedules. After Jack filled them in on staffing changes, including new staff members, they got to work on cabin assignments. “I already put Davey in Flushing,” he said. “You guys can stay in Manhattan… Spot, Finch, and Sniper can probably go in there, too.”

“Spot’s not leaving Brooklyn,” Race interjected, rolling his eyes.

“Finch might not want to leave Queens,” Crutchie added. “Manhattan’s really far from the barn.” Jack shot him a look, one eyebrow raised, and Crutchie busied himself with a stack of papers, straightening them like it was the most important thing he could do.

“I’m not sharing a room with Race,” Specs announced.

Race rolled over on the floor to glare at Specs. “ Why ?”

“Because you and Spot are disgusting,” Crutchie explained.

“Aw,” Race said, blowing Crutchie a kiss. “You jealous?”

“Never in a million years.”

They kept working on planning for the next couple of hours. They had already discussed a lot of things in their group chats during the off-season, so there wasn’t too much work to do. At some point, Davey showed up, slightly red in the face from the long walk up the steep hill, and sat between Jack and Specs, filling out paperwork and listening in on their meeting with mild interest.

Just before five o’clock, guys started to trickle in, and the building became steadily louder as the large conference room became more and more crowded. Jack was telling Race, Crutchie, Boots, and Skittery a story about running into a camper during the off-season when the distant roar of a powerful engine could be heard pulling into the parking lot, and instantly, Race was out the door. Davey glanced out the window not thirty seconds later and was subjected to an unobstructed view of Race with his legs wrapped around Spot’s waist as the two of them made out against the side of Spot’s Jeep. JoJo arrived just after, with Mike and Ike just behind him, and wolf-whistled at Spot and Race. Without breaking away, Spot raised a single middle finger in JoJo’s direction.

“Well,” Finch said from over Davey’s shoulder. “I guess someone at least lasted the year without breaking up.”

“Jack and I aren’t broken up,” Davey countered.

“Yeah,” Finch replied. “But I don’t think any of us really expected those two to last.”

Davey shrugged. He and Spot had grown close the previous summer, as well as during the off season. They figured out that they lived in the same city, and ended up hanging out a lot. Half the time when they were together, Spot would leave abruptly without explanation. It sort of hurt Davey’s feelings at first, but it didn’t take long to work out that at those times, Race was trying to call him. “I don’t know,” Davey said. “I think they seem pretty solid.”

A new guy, who introduced himself as Tommy, came in then, followed by another named Angelo, who immediately started bragging about his swim team accomplishments. “Bring it down a notch, hotshot,” Spot said as he came inside, followed by Race, whose hat was now askew.

“Hot Shot!” JoJo yelled. “That’s gotta be your name!”

“Uh, Angelo’s good…”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “It’s Hot Shot. You brought this on yourself.”

Mush and Blink were the next to arrive, wearing matching hot pink t-shirts with pictures of Scooby Doo appliqued on the front, smelling very faintly of weed. Mush got roped into a game of cards with Race, and some of the other counselors gathered around them to watch.

Not ten minutes into the game, the bell over the door rang, and they all looked up to see another new counselor- a short guy with sandy hair, wearing all black with an eye patch. The room fell silent with a pregnant pause as everyone glanced from the new guy to Blink and back. “What happened to you?” Blink asked.

“Crossbow bolt to the eye,” the guy deadpanned. “You?”

“Got into a tussle with Secret Service when I stole Trump’s toupee. I’m Blink.”

“York.”

The awkward pause continued briefly until Mush snorted, shaking his head. “I see your goldfish and I raise you a s’more,” he said, turning back to Race. Boots scribbled down their bets on the back of a camp map.

Davey was instantly reminded of his first day at Mountain Ridge. Blink told him that he lost his eye in a fight with a bear. Race was playing cards. Jack was holding court, the center of attention as always, just the way he liked it. Crutchie was chatting with Tommy, pointing people out and telling him everyone’s name. Davey had been the only new guy the summer previously, but now he was the seasoned returner. And if he was being honest, he just felt awkward and out of his depth. Meeting new people had never exactly been one of his favorite things.

After everyone had arrived and Specs got everyone’s paperwork, Jack called the meeting to order. The tables in the room were arranged in a horseshoe around the whiteboard at the front of the room, and the staff all sat in rapt attention (or mild disinterest, in some cases) as Jack and Specs worked through the employee handbook as quickly and painlessly as possible.

The rules were all the same as they had been before- no drinking or drugs on camp (Specs shot Mush and Blink a pointed look at that, and Blink winked back.), staff/camper ratios that had to be followed, training schedules, and a wide variety of other rules and policies. The rules were mostly the same as the year before, but Jack made sure to put heavy emphasis on the non-discrimination policies in place. As soon as they finished, Jack flipped over the whiteboard to show staff positions and cabin assignments, and everyone craned their neck to see where they would be staying.

Cabin Assignments:

Manhattan : Specs- Assistant Director

Race- Head Counselor

Crutchie- Program Director

Sniper- Archery Lead

Finch- Equestrian Director (or stay in Queens, whatever. I don’t care what you do.)

Brooklyn : Spot- Aquatics Director

Lifeguards: JoJo, Boots, Angelo Hot Shot

Bronx : Kitchen Staff: Henry, Bill, Darcy, Pie-Eater

Queens : Equestrian Staff: Finch (idk do what you want), Skittery, Bumlets

Harlem : Mush- Unit Leader

Counselors: Buttons, Itey, Snitch

Woodside : Blink- Unit Leader

Counselors: Tommy, Mike, Ike

Flushing : Davey- Unit Leader

Counselors:York, Albert, Elmer

Jack came and took a seat on the table next to where Davey was sitting while everyone compared assignments. Davey, knowing he was in Flushing, hardly looked at the list until Albert leaned over from his seat. “Yo- congrats, UL.”

“What-” Davey jerked his head up, scanning down to the Flushing section of the list. “UL?”

Jack grinned. “Yeah, surprise. It was supposed to be Romeo, but you know, he got that internship at the last minute. And I offered it to Buttons, but they didn’t want it. That’s okay, right?”

“What about Albert or Elmer?”

“They’re too young,” Jack explained. “You have to be at least twenty-one to be unit leader, and they’re both nineteen.”

“Oh.” Davey stared at the board for a minute. “I’ll probably need a working watch to do that.”

“We’ll see, Davey baby.”

“No,” Davey said sternly. “Don’t ‘Davey baby’ me. You owe me a watch.”

Sniper approached Jack then, and Jack gratefully turned away from Davey. “Can I actually stay in Harlem?” they asked.

“You want to stay in Harlem?” Jack said, slightly incredulously.

“Yeah. Manhattan smells really weird. And there are too many people running in and out.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack replied with a shrug. “Hang on a second.” He stood up on the table, towering over everyone. His hat almost got knocked off by the ceiling fan. “You guys can go unpack. We don’t really have any plans tonight but I’ll have pizzas and movies in the lodge. Just be at the pool by eight AM tomorrow for swim tests.”

Davey grabbed his backpack to get ready to leave, but Jack held him back, grabbing his hand. “Will you come help me make pizzas?”

Davey just stared back at Jack, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Do you want me to help you make pizzas?”

Jack paused, remembering one too many kitchen disasters caused by Davey. “No. Never mind. Absolutely not. Come for moral support.” He turned, looking around the room. Spotting Crutchie, he waved him over. “Yo, come make pizzas with me!”

Crutchie grabbed his bag and met up with them. “Shouldn’t you be giving the new guys tours right now?” Davey asked Jack.

“Huh?”

“You gave me a tour my first day.”

“Oh.” Jack looked sheepish. “I just did that because you were cute. Also, you looked really confused so I was pretty sure you were going to get lost in the woods before you made it to the cabin.”

After making pizzas in the dining hall kitchen (which mostly just consisted of waiting around for frozen pizzas after throwing some toppings on while Davey sat on the counter as he and Crutchie teased Jack), the three of them took the golf cart to the lodge. Someone had brought the old Gamecube from Manhattan, and Spot and Race were already in the middle of an intense round of Mario Kart. There was a lot of yelling and cursing, paired with insults, low blows, and at one point, an attempted tackling after a well-placed green shell. Spot dodged expertly, as if it was second nature, around Race’s attacks and sailed into first place just ahead of Race.

“We’re over,” Race snapped before dropping the controller and stalking off toward Jack and Crutchie, who were already working on polishing off an entire pizza between the two of them.

Spot didn’t seem at all concerned about their breakup. “Jacobs!” he yelled to Davey across the room. “You’re up!”

Crutchie collapsed onto the couch at the back of the lodge with Jack and Race while Davey and Spot played Mario Kart. On his lap, there was a paper plate with about half of a pizza heaped on. “Alright,” he said around a mouthful of pizza. “What’s the plan tonight? Observation deck? Art hut?”

“Uh…” Jack shrank into the overstuffed couch. “I’m kind of busy tonight. You know, with planning and all that…”

“I’m hanging out with Spot,” Race added.

“ What ?” Crutchie turned to both of them in turn, offended. “It’s the first night back. We have to hang out. No boyfriends,” he added with a pointed look in Race’s direction.

Race rolled his eyes. “Crutchie, no offense, but this is the first time I’ve seen Spot in two months so… we can hang out tomorrow night, but I’m dragging him out of here as soon as he’s done with that game.”

“Dude. Seriously?” Crutchie sat his plate aside on a table near the couch. “This is the first time you’ve seen me since October.”

“Yeah,” Race said with a shrug. “But I don’t really feel like making out with you- or Jack- so I’m gonna do that instead.”

“Race…” Jack warned.

Race held out his hands. “What? You’re saying you wouldn’t want to be with Dave if you hadn’t seen him in two months? Come on, man.” His defensive position turned into a smirk as realization dawned across his face. “Hang on. You’re not really working tonight, are you? You’re going to hook up with Dave.”

Crutchie’s jaw dropped. “ Jack !”

“No!” Jack ran a hand self consciously through his hair. “I really do have to work.” There was an awkward pause. “But Davey might come help me with some stuff.”

Crutchie stood up, hooking his crutches onto his forearms. “I can’t believe you guys.”

“Crutchie-” Jack started.

“It’s whatever,” Crutchie interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chapter Text

Just like they said they were going to, Race and Jack both grabbed their respective boyfriends and left not long after arriving, after Davey thoroughly destroyed Spot at Mario Kart. Crutchie went back to the couch, and Albert soon put the new Thor movie on the big projector. A few of the people gathered there were paying attention to the movie, but some others were playing games in the corners of the rooms. Crutchie briefly considered heading down to the art hut, but something about making crafts on his own on the first night of camp just seemed a little bit too sad.

Elmer, Finch, Hot Shot, and JoJo were all sitting in a circle around a box of cards. “Hey, Crutchie,” Elmer called, seeing him sitting there alone. “Want to play Cards Against Humanity with us?” Finch looked down at the cards in his hand, paying way more attention than he needed to on organizing them. His awkwardness didn’t get past Crutchie.

“Uh, no thanks,” he replied. He tried to think of an excuse not to play, but couldn’t come up with one off the top of his head. “I’m actually going to go back to Manhattan.” Crutchie hadn’t actually planned on going back to the cabin yet, but he couldn’t really sit around doing nothing after declining to play.

Slowly, he started toward the cabin, dragging his feet and knocking a stray pinecone along the road as he went. Every few steps, he kicked it or hit it with one of his crutches, until an errant kick sent the pinecone skittering off into a ditch in the dark. Just before he got to Manhattan, Crutchie stopped, looking toward the cabin, where several windows showed lights on inside. Even from a distance, he could hear Race laughing at something.

Crutchie turned away from the cabin, heading for a spot in the road nearby. He always knew exactly where it was. Just past the fork in the road, next to the pothole. Knowing that no cars ever drove on this road after dark except for the golf cart, he laid down, looking up at the sky. Directly above him, the canopy of trees, which normally blanketed the sky above the road, parted in a near-perfect circle. Being so far out in the woods, there was no light pollution, and he could see thousands of perfectly clear stars.

Cicadas chorused from their hiding places within the trees, frogs croaked down at the lake, and at one point, he thought he heard a splash- some of the lifeguards probably snuck into the pool. A quick, steady gait approached after about ten minutes there. “You good down there?” Specs asked, leaning into view and blocking Ursa Major.

“I’m fine,” Crutchie replied. It sounded a bit more hollow than he expected.

Specs nodded thoughtfully. “Mind if I join you?” Crutchie gestured to the pavement next to him, and Specs laid down on his back, using his backpack as a pillow. “This summer feels different, doesn’t it?” Specs asked. “Maybe it’s just me.”

“No, I get it,” Crutchie said. “It’s like…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know. It’s just not what I expected.”

“At least it’s just the first day.”

Crutchie shrugged. “What if it doesn’t get better?”

There was a heavy sigh next to Crutchie. “I don’t know.”

Just inside Manhattan, Race sat on his bed, legs slung across Spot’s lap. “Yeah,” he was saying. “Crutchie wanted to hang out tonight but you know… so we’ll probably just chill tomorrow.”

“What’s he doing now?” Spot asked as he tried to solve one of Race’s Rubik’s Cubes. Race had explained how to do it a hundred times, but Spot could never get it. He was tempted to start peeling stickers off and moving them to the right places.

“I don’t know,” Race said with a shrug. “I wanted to be with you, and Jack’s busy. He’s doing ‘work’ with Davey.” He held up exaggerated finger quotes around the word ‘work’.

Spot snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure they’re being very productive. You’re still a dick.”

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“Not to be all ‘bros before hos’ but…”

Race stared incredulously at Spot. “Seriously? You’d rather I go hang out with Crutchie and Jack just to be nice?”

“You’ve never done anything in your life just to be nice,” Spot pointed out. Race just stared at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m just saying. Ditching Crutchie’s kind of shitty.”

“Fine.” Race swung his legs off of Spot’s lap. “I’ll just go find him. See you some other time.”

Spot grabbed Race’s left leg before he could get completely away. “No. I’m not nice, either. Stay here.”

Davey made his way back to Flushing late that night, after scheduling about half a day with Jack, followed by a lot of… not work. Jack offered to give him a ride back, but Davey refused. It was a beautiful night, almost cool enough that he wished he had long sleeves, and he wanted to make the walk back on his own. The director’s cabin was near the front of the camp, fairly far away from Flushing Hill.

As Davey walked down the road, he could see the evidence of people beginning to turn in for the night. Every now and then, he could see the lights of a cabin gleaming through the trees. Brooklyn was, as always, noisy and energetic. It sounded like JoJo was trying to rap, and the other lifeguards were yelling at him to shut up. In Woodside, things were quiet enough that Davey could hear one of their outdoor showers running.

When he got to the bottom of Flushing Hill, the lights were still on in Manhattan, but it was quiet. He turned to start up the hill but jumped with a gasp. Specs was sitting on the bottom of the hill, ridiculously flexible legs pulled right up against his chest, staring off in the direction of the lake. After Davey recovered from his surprise, he checked in with Specs. “You alright?”

Specs didn’t even flinch. “Hm?” he asked, pulling an earbud out of his right ear. “What’d you say?”

“I just asked if you’re alright,” Davey repeated.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m good. Just getting some air.”

“Alright…” Davey hesitated, unsure if he should stop and stay with Specs. He really did seem fine, though. “Well, good night.”

“Night,” Specs said, already getting ready to get back to what he was listening to. “See you tomorrow.”

Once Davey made it up the hill to his cabin (after a brief rest just before getting to the cabin so he could catch his breath and avoid showing the guys just how out of shape he was) he found that the other guys were already there. York had claimed what had previously been Romeo’s bunk, and Albert and Elmer were already on their top bunks, legs hanging over the sides, leaning across the railings so that they could see York enough to carry on a conversation. They were explaining the shower situation, about how short the showers were, and how you needed to watch out for scorpions. None of this was new information to Davey, who was about a foot too tall to use the unit’s showers and always went down to Manhattan.

York seemed to be pretty quiet, and his single good eye was constantly darting around the room like he was on his guard. His suitcase was open on the floor and aside from clothes, Davey could see a large stack of books tucked away, a few of which he recognized from his own collection. “What are you reading now?” Davey asked during a break in the conversation, nodding toward the books.

“Uh…” York hesitated. “ Infinite Jest .”

Davey made a face. “ Why ?” he asked. “That book is… torturous.”

“It really is,” York agreed. “There is absolutely no reason for it to be that long and confusing. I just want to say I’ve done it.”

“Can you read like that?” Albert asked, holding a hand over one eye. The cabin fell completely silent.

York bent down and grabbed a random book from his suitcase. From a glimpse of the cover, Davey could see that it was a James Joyce novel. He tossed the book up to Albert. “Cover one eye and try to read, and figure it out yourself.”

“He can barely read with two eyes,” Elmer said with a snort.

“Shut up!” Albert snapped. He opened the book to a random page and, left eye covered, stared at the page for a minute. “Okay,” he finally pronounced, closing the book and carefully tossing it back down to York. “So you can read. That’s cool.”

“I’m glad you think so,” York said dryly.

In the morning, the boys from Flushing dragged themselves reluctantly out of bed, not yet used to the early mornings that camp required. “I’m just glad Specs isn’t in our cabin anymore,” Elmer said.

“Why?” Albert asked.

Elmer shrugged. “He woke me up every morning when he got up to go running. You guys are too lazy to wake me up and I appreciate that about you.” He turned to York with a stern expression. “No early morning runs.”

“Don’t worry about that,” York replied.

They all dressed for the pool and Albert led the way through the shortcut, stick out in front of him to knock down any spiderwebs. The Flushing boys were the first to arrive, with the others not far behind. The kitchen staff were last to arrive, carrying baskets of bagels and cream cheese. A few of them started grabbing bagels for breakfast, but Buttons held back. “We’re not supposed to eat before swimming,” they said.

“That’s a myth,” Boots said as the lifeguards made their way to the front of the pack. While most of the guys were still fairly groggy and looked like they had only been awake for a few minutes, the guards were alert and ready. They had clearly taken the time to get Hot Shot up to speed on how the lifeguards did things, because he, Boots, and JoJo flanked Spot, the four of them standing sternly, arms crossed, dark sunglasses and matching red lifeguard swim trunks on, waiting for silence.

It didn’t take long for the group to fall silent. Spot had that type of presence. He didn’t have to say anything. People just knew when it was time to give him their attention. “Alright,” he barked, all business. “Let’s get a few things straight here. Most of you oughta know this already, but your skulls are all so thick you could stand to hear it again. When you’re at my pool, or my lake, or any of my other water activities, you will follow my rules. No questions. No backtalk. You’re here to babysit and assist as needed. If I need some water, you go get me some water. If JoJo needs some sunscreen, you get JoJo some sunscreen. If Boots tells you to wear your pants on your head, then you’ll wear your fucking pants on your head.

“Pool time isn’t your break time. You’re not going to be on your phone up here. You’re not going to make friendship bracelets .” He spit the words out like the concept of someone making a friendship bracelet at his pool was the most offensive thing he could think of. A blue knotted bracelet hung around his right wrist. “You’re here to help the guards and show kids where the bathroom is.”

He snapped his fingers in JoJo’s direction, and JoJo stepped up, going over the locations of safety equipment, the emergency phone, and the lost and found stash of towels that kids had left from previous summers. Once he was done, he returned to his position in the formation, immediately to Spot’s right. “Everyone’s getting swim tested,” Spot said. “Pass/fail. You’ll swim to the other side and back and then tread water for a minute. It’s easy. If you can’t do it, you’re banned from all water activities, all summer.” He scanned the crowd. “Higgins,” Spot called, beckoning to Race. “You’re up.”

Race groaned. “Don’t pull this shit again,” he said, annoyed. “You don’t need someone to demonstrate how to swim across the pool.”

Spot glared at him. “My pool,” he said slowly. “My rules.”

Race straightened up, arms crossed, a full head taller than Spot. “You do it,” he challenged. “If a demonstration is so important, then they should see the best do it. Unless,” Race gasped theatrically. “Maybe you’re not really that good.”

“You’re on,” Spot replied, rising to the challenge. “In the pool.” He jumped in and turned, staring expectantly at Race, who shook his head, fighting off a smile, and jumped in after tossing his shirt to Finch, who had been standing next to him. Boots stepped up the the side of the pool, whistle dangling loosely between his teeth. After making sure they were ready, Boots released a quick blast of the whistle and Spot and Race took off. Race was undeniably a fast swimmer, but Spot was more at home in the water than he was anywhere else and beat Race easily, leaning against the wall of the pool after finishing with a grin.

Race caught up not long after and shook his hair in Spot’s direction like a wet dog. “You owe me,” Spot said after shielding himself from the water. “I’ll add it to your debt.”

“The usual?” Race asked.

“Ew,” Mush said from the side of the pool. “Leave us out of your weird sex life.”

Spot rolled his eyes. “He owes me eighty-three dollars. Well, ninety-three now.”

After Spot hauled himself out of the pool, he had the guys line up for their swim tests, which they would take four at a time. Everyone left their shirts on the picnic tables and gathered by the edge of the pool. Crutchie quickly whipped his shirt off, stretching. Two horizontal scars on the lower half of his chest caught the light, and Spot gave him a couple of companionable slaps on the back as he passed by on his way to the lifeguard stand.

Everyone passed, and they had plenty of time allotted for some swim time. Jack roped Crutchie, Race, and Mush into a game of basketball, and Davey hung back with Spot, who was floating on his back, occasionally spitting pool water into the air like he was a fountain. “Can you stop that ?” Davey snapped after being splashed in the face by spit water for the fourth time.

Without a word, Spot stopped floating and stood up so that he was facing Davey. Slowly, he sank into the pool, sucked in a mouthful of pool water, and stood back up. “Do not ,” Davey warned. Spot spit a huge blast of water straight at him. “I regret ever talking to you.”

Chapter Text

The first full day of staff training was like a breath of fresh air to Davey. Ridiculously hot air with the slightest hint of skunk smell, but refreshing and comforting all the same. He wasn’t an outdoorsy person by any means. Being too hot or too cold was an issue, the sun burned, and outside, there were bees. For some reason, though, it never felt bad when he was at Mountain Ridge. Even with the bees, Davey didn’t mind being outside.

After swim tests, Crutchie led the group through art hut orientation, where he made sure to emphasize the three biggest rules: no pooping in the art hut bathroom, no beads on the floor, and no unsupervised glitter usage. Although he was no longer arts and crafts director, Crutchie agreed to continue to run a lot of the art programs. The staff would be handling more of the art hut time on their own, using lesson plans that he prepared.

After a tour of the building, Crutchie let the staff have some free craft time. Davey tried to make a lanyard, but he kept having to have Crutchie unravel his mistakes and do a few rows correctly. After the fifth time that Davey approached him for help, Crutchie shot him a withering look. “Are you just trying to get me to do the whole thing for you?” Tommy, the new counselor, was actually a natural at camp crafts, and soon had Crutchie teaching him more complicated knots and patterns. Only Blink seemed to be worst than Davey at crafts- he didn’t even bother trying and just doodled on a piece of yellow construction paper. Near the end of the activity block, Mush had Blink hold out his wrist and tied a green bracelet on.

The counselors gathered at the dining hall for lunch, where they met up with Sniper, Jack, Specs, Race, Finch, and the lifeguards, who hadn’t had to go to the craft orientation. The kitchen staff had prepared burgers, including a few veggie burgers for Spot and Tommy. After loading up his place, Davey started toward a table where Jack was already sitting across from Specs, the two of them leaning over an open binder. Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar and pulled him backwards, and Davey stumbled, almost falling.

He spun around to see Albert standing there with a fake stern expression. “Nuh-uh,” Albert said. “Flushing lunch,” he announced, jerking his head toward a table where Elmer was already sitting with a vaguely uncomfortable looking York. Davey shot Jack an apologetic look, but Jack was too absorbed by the binder on the table and didn’t even look up. He didn’t even look up when Crutchie sat down next to him, until Crutchie threw a potato chip at his face.

Looking around, people had split off into expected groups. The lifeguards were all sharing a table, as usual. Bumlets and Itey, who had been CITs together the year before, were together at the table with the equestrian staff. The rest of the counselors were scattered around the dining hall in small groups based mostly on cabins or existing friendships.

As soon as Davey and Albert sat down at their table, Albert and Elmer started grilling York. “Where are you from?” Elmer asked around a mouthful of hamburger.

“Pennsylvania.”

“Are you in school?” Albert continued.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Penn State.”

“What’s your major?”

“English.”

“Hey!” Albert exclaimed excitedly. “You and Blink are pretty much the same person!”

“That seems… untrue…” York replied hesitantly.

Albert counted off the points on his fingers. “You’re both English majors. You’re both like, sort of blond-ish. You both… eyepatch.”

York stared in disbelief. “By that logic,”Davey pointed out. “You and Queen Elizabeth II are the same person, Al.” Albert scrunched his forehead, trying to figure out what he meant. Davey held up his hand, ticking off his reasons on his fingers. “Red hair, you didn’t go to college, and mostly functional eyes.”

Albert leaned back in his chair on two legs, arms crossed as he considered that. “You know, I’m okay with that,” he finally concluded. Race, walking by, kicked a chair leg and Albert fell backwards onto the floor with a startled yelp. “What the-” his head swiveled around, looking for whoever made him fall, but it didn’t take long to spot Race there. “ Fuck you, Race .” Race winked, grinning cheekily, before joining Jack, Crutchie, and Specs at their table. Jack shook his head at him, but he was barely containing his own laughter.

At their table, Crutchie turned to face Jack and Race. “Are we on for tonight?” he asked. His eyebrows were raised, as though he was silently daring any of them to say no.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, as Race nodded.

“Basketball court?” Race asked. “Bring the fire box?”

Crutchie reached for Jack’s binder, which had the schedule in the front cover. “We have campfire tonight, right? We can just go after that?”

“I’ll bring the fire kit,” Jack promised. He glanced at his watch. “Oh, hang on.” Standing up, Jack whistled loudly, catching everyone’s attention. “Alright, we’ve got abuse training next. Most of you know the drill. It’s pretty serious, so…” He trailed off. “Just be in the lodge by one o’clock.” The staff started cleaning up, scraping their plates into a trashcan by the door. Some of them wanted to go by their cabins in the time before the training would start, and others just planned on going straight to the lodge so they could claim one of the good couches.

Race hung back, waiting on Spot. While he was never exactly loud, Spot had gone silent. “You could just tell Jack you can’t do it,” Race muttered, hand bumping against Spot’s. Spot shook his head. “You don’t have to sit through this.”

“It’s important,” Spot grumbled. “Let’s go.”

They took the shortcut through the woods to the lodge, where most of the guys were gathered. All of the couches and armchairs were already taken, so they found a place on the floor in the corner.

Jack stood up at the front of the room, holding the remote to a DVD player. “So, uh, this can get kind of intense. Definitely try to watch it if you can, but it’s cool if you have to step out.” Race nudged Spot subtly, but Spot just responded with a small shake of his head. Jack pushed play on the remote and headed to the large armchair, which he was sharing with Davey.

The video was about an hour and a half long, and focused mainly on how to recognize the signs of child abuse, how to know when to make a report, and who to go to in order to report abuse. The worst part, though, was the testimonies from abuse survivors. Spot sat tensely next to Race, who glanced worriedly over at him every few minutes. About half an hour in, Spot reached into his backpack, pulling out a red hoodie, which he threw over his and Race’s laps like a blanket. Under the hoodie, he grabbed Race’s hand and squeezed tightly.

Race leaned over, close to Spot’s ear. “Do you want to go outside?” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” Spot replied shortly.

“You don’t have to be fine,” Race whispered back. “I’ll go with you. You don’t need to stay for this.”

“Drop it, Racer.”

As they watched the video, Race, fidgety as always, tapped his fingers methodically against Spot’s knuckles without even noticing that he was doing it. It grounded Spot in a way that he couldn’t quite explain.

When it was all over, Jack awkwardly called the staff to order, saying that they were going to go down to the big field and learn some games that they could play with their campers. He knew they would need something lighthearted after that.

“I’ve got to go skim the pool,” Spot said, shouldering his backpack. Race almost stopped him, but he knew better than to try to keep Spot away from the pool. Without asking permission, Race followed him up the hill. As Spot dragged the unwieldy net out of storage to clean the pool, Race sat on the edge, shoes off, feet dangling in the water.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Spot replied, slowly dragging the net through the water. The pool was already nearly pristine. There were just a couple of leaves and a few insects that needed to be cleaned. At this point, Spot was just nitpicking to have something to do.

“You could have just walked out.”

Spot sighed. His shoulders sank and for a moment, he seemed to collapse in on himself, until he pulled the net from the pool, straightening back up. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” From his tone, it was clear that there would be no more discussion of the matter.

Race nodded, watching Spot out of the corner of his eye. “Truth or dare,” he said. It wasn’t really a question. Spot never chose anything but dare.

“Dare.”

Race jerked his head in the direction of the pool. “I dare you to go skinny dipping.”

Spot turned to face Race fully for the first time since lunch. “Are you serious? No. That’s stupid.”

“Backing down from a dare?” Race asked, eyebrows raised.

With lots of dramatic eye rolling, Spot put the net away. “Fine. Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to do it, too.” For the first time in hours, Spot cracked the slightest hint of a grin as he and Race quickly stripped down and jumped into the pool. “This is so stupid,” he said with the shadow of a laugh tinting his voice.

“You’re stupid,” Race countered.

“You’re stupid,” Spot replied.

“I’m an astrophysicist.”

The two of them swam around for a while, splashing a dunking each other, and Race smugly basked in the success of his Cheer Up Spot plan. Just as Spot was beginning to climb out so he could do a cannonball, he froze. “ Sshhh, ” Spot hissed, holding up a hand. Race treaded water as quietly as he could, and realized immediately why Spot froze.

From a distance, they could hear a set of footsteps running up the hill. “ Shit ,” Race cursed. Spot sank back down into the water and the two of them stayed close to the wall, staying low so that no one could see them immediately. It didn’t take long for the top of Boots’ head to come into view. Race let out an involuntary giggle, and Spot clapped a hand over Race’s mouth.

Boots paused at the gate, which was standing wide open. It was always meant to be locked. He scanned the area, looking immediately to the pool like any good guard would. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said gratefully, seeing the tops of their heads.

“Yeah,” Spot said self-consciously. “What do you need?”

Boots gestured toward a plastic chair next to the pool. “Forgot my water bottle.” Sure enough, a blue Nalgene covered in stickers waited under the chair.

“Don’t come over here,” Spot said. “Just… turn around and I can toss it to you.”

“I can get it,” Boots offered.

“No!” Race snapped, still barely holding his laughter in. “Do not come over here.”

Boots’ eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Spot started trying to pull together a reason, but Race just decided to dive in headfirst. “Because we’re buck-ass naked over here, that’s why.” Spot sank to the bottom of the pool, thoroughly embarrassed.

Boots’ friendly expression quickly turned to one of discomfort and disgust. “In the pool ? Seriously? Do what you want, but in the pool ?”

Spot kicked back up to the surface, having heard what Boots said from underwater. “We weren’t doing that,” he snapped. “Just… come get your water and don’t look.”

“Y’all are nasty,” Boots complained as he retrieved his water, carefully guarding his eyes.

That night, after a campfire where they roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire and listened to Mush and Bumlets play guitar, Jack, Crutchie, and Race pulled away from the rest of the group, turning up a short hill near Woodside, where a rarely used basketball court waited in the dark. Crutchie led the way, using the dim flashlight on his radio, and they sat in the middle of the court on the center line. Race produced a box of Cheez-its and Jack rummaged through his backpack for a plastic box. From the box, he withdrew a lighter, a box of crayons, a few tampons, a handful of dryer lint, and a snack pack of Doritos. Crutchie added a ball of twine and a few handfuls of dry pine needles to the pile.

They took turns lighting things on fire, challenging each other to create the biggest flame. Race built a Lincoln Log style house out of crayons, which they lit using yet a crayon that they had already set on fire. The wax and paper cabin immediately flared up into a shockingly large flame, and naturally, the three boys loudly celebrated their rousing success. The crayon cabin kept burning for a surprisingly long time, helped alone by bits of lint or pieces of string that Crutchie kept tossing into the inferno.

The scent of burning crayons pine straw surrounded them as they laughed and talked, their conversations getting deeper as the night wore on and their kindling pile dwindled. Even after the crayons melted away and they ran out of tampons to burn, they stayed there in total darkness well into the night, until Race complained that it was cold and he wanted to go inside.

He and Crutchie turned toward Manhattan, and Jack got ready to make his way back to the director’s cabin in the opposite direction. “Well…” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Crutchie said. Specs was a good roommate. He was clean and did his best to be quiet when he got up early and never spilled juice on Crutchie’s bunk. But his first time in a long time not bunking with Jack, and the absence was definitely felt.

Chapter Text

The next morning after breakfast, they had a few minutes before the next activity block, so Davey went down to the art hut to grab some cell phone service. He hadn’t spoken to Sarah in two days, which was just too long.

Finch had beaten him there, and was sitting cross-legged on one of the counters, speaking rapidly in another language. Davey didn’t know what he was saying but it sounded like an argument. “ Sorry ,” Davey mouthed, getting ready to leave so Finch had some privacy.

Finch held the phone away from his face. “You’re good,” he said to Davey, before returning to the conversation.

Awkwardly, Davey took a seat in one of the tiny chairs, which was made for people about two or three feet shorter than he was. He turned his phone on to see a bunch of notifications from his friends and family. Les had texted him about twenty times asking for his Hulu password.

Sarah’s camp across the lake got much better cell service than his did, so she answered almost immediately when he texted her, going on to describe the Camp Willow Lake training, things that had changed, and asking how his summer was going.

Finch hung up the phone with a loud groan. “What language was that?” Davey asked as he typed out a reply to Sarah. It didn’t sound like anything he had really heard.

“Uh, Tagalog,” Finch replied. “We speak it pretty much all the time at home.”

“Is everything alright?”

Finch shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. My parents are getting divorced so I’m kind of mediating.”

“Oh,” Davey said, feeling incredibly intrusive for even having asked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Finch said. “It’s kind of for the best. It sucks, but they’ve both been pretty miserable for a while. It’s been a helluva year, though.”

Finch was one of the older staff members, but in the past year, it looked like he had aged a number of years, rather than just one. “Well… if you need to like… talk or anything… just let me know?” Davey checked his phone once more, after promising Sarah that he would call her that night.

“Yeah, okay, Davey.” Finch glanced at his watch. Davey was once again reminded that he still needed to get a new one. “We should get going,” he said. “Don’t want to miss… what are we doing next?”

“Barn orientation.”

Finch jolted to his feet, jumping off of the counter. “Shit, that’s me! I gotta run, sorry!” He slung his backpack over one shoulder and sprinted off toward the barn.

Davey dragged his feet to the barn. He wasn’t a huge fan of horses, and there were all sorts of biting flies that hung out in the barn. How the equestrian staff handled it was beyond him. He was one of the last to arrive and hung back toward the back of the group with Race, who was visibly on edge. Every time someone got near a horse, he tensed up.

Hot Shot noticed. “Are you scared of horses?” he asked Race.

“No!” A horse whinnied and he flinched ever so slightly.

“You are!” Hot Shot laughed.

Race gritted his teeth. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Hot Shot.”

Finch, with the help of the other equestrian staff, Skittery and Bumlets, led the counselors through a tour of the barn, went over a list of rules, and told them the names of each of the eight horses. They had their names written in chalk over the stall doors: Brick, Adidas, Nell, Barney, Quixote, Saturn, Paulie, and Gordon. Apparently Saturn, Barney, and Nell were the most easygoing horses, while Brick and Gordon would be reserved for older riders with more experience. “Okay,” Finch said after a demonstration on how they groomed the horses. “Who wants to ride?”

Albert, Jack, Itey, and Buttons immediately volunteered and were matched up with horses. Finch and Skittery led them in circles around the paddock while Bumlets worked on saddling the other horses for the rest of the group. A few of the counselors had never ridden before and needed lessons, so they were held back to go last. “Davey,” Finch called after the first group finished. Saturn tugged at his hair and Finch reached back to pat him on the cheek. “You want to ride?”

“Uh, no,” Davey replied solidly.

Jack sidled up to him and threw an arm around Davey’s shoulders. “Yeah, he can just save a horse-”

“Don’t say it,” Davey warned.

“And ride a cowboy,” Jack finished.

“I quit,” Davey groaned. “I’m going to go pack my suitcase and then I’m gone.”

“Gross,” Finch said, pointing to Jack before turning back to the rest of the group. “Okay! Who’s next?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of group games, fire-starting lessons, and a nearly disastrous meal cooked over the fire. They were taking turns cooking meals for each other, and  Mush, Sniper, and Davey tried to make breakfast for dinner for everyone. Mush’s biscuits burned to a crisp. Sniper’s eggs didn’t end in tragedy, but they also weren’t very good. The bacon, though, was very poorly planned. Mush and Davey engineered a makeshift frying pan over tin foil, which they balanced on top of the logs. It seemed at first that it would work out alright. The bacon was sizzling and cooking just like it was supposed to. Just as Davey was about to flip the bacon, he accidentally bumped the edge of the tin foil pan with his tongs. A bit of grease dropped down below and within seconds, the entire pan ignited with a grease fire.

Davey, who had been crouching in front of the fire, fell backwards and skittered away from the fire, which was now a raging inferno that smelled a little bit like bacon. Jack and Specs, who had been taking care of some things at admin, pulled up in the golf cart just as the fire got out of control. JoJo sprinted inside for a fire extinguisher and Blink ran for the water bucket to douse the flames. “No!” York yelled, grabbing Blink’s arm and causing the water to splash all over their shoes. “It’s a grease fire- water makes it worse.”

JoJo made it back with the fire extinguisher, already pulling the pin and aiming the nozzle toward the flames. He sprayed the fire until it was out, and then a little more for safety, until the fire pit, bacon, cooking tools, and the eggs were white from the extinguisher.

Jack got there just as JoJo finished putting the fire out. Davey sat back on the ground, catching his breath. “What happened?” Jack asked.

“I was making bacon…” Davey started.

Jack held up a hand. “I get it.”

Specs shook his head, surveying the scene. “I’ll go get a frozen lasagna started.”

After an hour, Specs came back with only slightly charred lasagnas, which they all dug into. Since they were still eating outside, they all collectively agreed to call it a cookout. Jack had been steadily teasing Davey for yet another cooking blunder. Davey leaned over and whispered something in Jack’s ear. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. Sorry,” Jack said quickly as he blushed, immediately reeling away from the jokes.

Crutchie nudged Jack’s foot with his own, and poked Race with the end of his crutch. “Want to do something tonight?” he asked.

“I can’t,” Race said. “I’m watching the Kardashians with Spot.”

“I’m not watching that,” Spot protested with a mouth full of vegetable with lasagna.

“Yes you are,” Race replied simply.

“That’s not how this works.”

“Okay,” Crutchie said, rolling his eyes. “So Race is out. Jack?”

“Uh…” Jack glanced at Davey. “Well, we hung out last night, and…”

“Got it,” Crutchie responded.

Specs leaned over toward Crutchie. “I was thinking about playing some games tonight if you want to join me.”

Crutchie shrugged. “I think I might just go to bed early. I’ve got a podcast I was wanting to listen to.”

“Okay,” Specs said. “That’s cool.”

Later that evening, Jack remembered that he had an announcement to make. “Jack to all units. Confirm that you’re listening.”

“Manhattan’s here.”

“Flushing’s here.”

“Harlem’s here.”

“Woodside’s here.”

“And so’s Queens.”

“Brooklyn’s here.”

“Alright, we’re having a town day tomorrow,” Jack said into the radio as he sketched a profile view of Davey, who was reading a book next to him. “Walmart and then bowling with the Willow Lake girls. We’re leaving after breakfast so go ahead and figure out carpool stuff.”

In the lodge, Blink and Mush were playing a game of Jenga on the floor while Mush’s phone played music. It was getting late and most of the counselors had retired back to their cabins to relax before going to sleep. The game was getting pretty far along and the tower had become extremely precarious. Blink was slowly working on extracting a block when the door to the lodge slammed open. He jolted, accidentally knocking the tower over.

They both turned to the door, where York was standing awkwardly. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing to the door. “It’s really windy out there and I kind of- anyway. Have you guys seen a set of keys?”

“What kind of keys?” Mush asked.

“Car keys. I can’t find them but we’re going to town tomorrow so I kind of need to.”

“Oh, it’s a town day?” Blink asked, perking up as he started to restack the tower.

“Uh, yeah,” York replied.

Mush glanced around. “I haven’t noticed any keys. But I can drive tomorrow if you want a ride.”

York hesitated. “I don’t want to be a problem,” he said.

“We always carpool anyway,” Blink added. “It’s no problem.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Okay. Sure. I do still need to find my keys, though…”

Blink nodded as he finished stacking the Jenga tower back up. He gestured to the blocks. “Want to play?”

“I should probably-” York looked around like he was trying to figure out how to get out of socializing. Not seeing any other options, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool.” He took a seat on the floor between Blink and Mush, awkwardly waiting for his turn.

In Manhattan, Crutchie laid in his bunk, listening to the podcast that he had been binging lately. When he first got back to the cabin, he could hear Keeping Up With the Kardashians playing in Race’s room, with Spot interjecting occasionally to make fun of them, followed by Race snapping at him, but Race’s room had gone quiet.

Specs came into the room around eleven o’clock, hair wet from a recent shower. “Hey,” he said to Crutchie as he rubbed a towel over his hair.

“Hey,” Crutchie replied, taking one headphone out.

“What’s up?” Specs asked. “You’ve seemed kind of off.”

“Have I? I… I don’t know. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Crutchie rolled over, propping his head up as he faced Specs. “I guess. I don’t know. It’s kind of weird this summer, because Jack and Race are always so busy and… I don’t know, they were busy last summer, I guess. But it kind of seems like even when we hang out, it’s just because they feel obligated to or something.”

“That sucks,” Specs replied. “Is it just because of Spot and Davey?”

“I don’t know. Like, I know they have work to do- especially Jack. And I’m happy for them. Really! But last summer, even when they were freaking out about Davey and Spot… I don’t know. We still had time to hang out in the cabin.”

“You miss having Jack as a roommate,” Specs said. It wasn’t a question.

“Well… yeah,” Crutchie replied. “He’s one of my best friends. And it wouldn’t really be so bad that he kept running off with Davey if I knew he was going to come back here.” Specs opened his mouth to say something, but Crutchie held up a hand. “That sounded bad. That sounded like I’m jealous, but it’s not that.”

“I get it,” Specs said. He carefully hung his towel up on a hook by the door. “You just miss him.”

“Well… yeah.”

“Why don’t you try to find a new group of people to hang out with?” Specs offered thoughtfully.

“Uh…” Crutchie fidgeted with the edge of his blanket. “Yeah. I mean, I can. Just… some stuff is sort of awkward…” he trailed off without elaborating.

“You’re talking about Finch, aren’t you? What happened with that?”

“Nothing.” He rolled over, signalling that the conversation was over.

Chapter Text

The next day after breakfast, Jack dragged Davey by the hand to Race’s car, where Race was already picking out a playlist. They climbed into the backseat with Crutchie up front. “Are we waiting for Spot?” Davey asked.

“Nah,” Race replied, finally settling on an upbeat playlist made up of mostly songs from the early 2000’s. “We’re gonna race.”

Davey tensed up in the back seat. “I would, uh-” he glanced at Jack, who didn’t look at all bothered. “I would prefer that we didn’t.”

Race rolled his eyes, catching Davey’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Chill. Spot won’t let me race him like that since my last wreck. We’re doing a route race.”

“A what?” Crutchie asked.

“We take different routes and try to get there first without using directions.”

Jack dropped his head against the back of the seat. “You’re going to get us so lost ,” he groaned.

Spot pulled up in his Jeep next to Race’s car. He had all of the lifeguards in his car, and loud, bass-heavy music was already pumping through the speaker system, which Spot had painstakingly modified. “You go right, I go left?” he yelled over the roar of the engine and the music. Race shot him a thumbs up, and they took off, both cars still going above the speed limit.

For the first few minutes of the drive, they rode side-by-side, heading down the mountainous road. It was the only viable way to get into town. As they started getting back into civilization, though, Race split off to the right, while Spot took a hard left. Normally, they would both keep going straight down the interstate into town. They flew past open fields and over little rivers. It seemed like they were getting deeper into the woods, rather than closer to town. “Uh, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Jack asked as they sped down a deserted road.

“Positive,” Race replied.

“How can you be so sure?” Crutchie asked. He was already working on pulling up Google Maps on his phone.

“Turn that off!” Race snapped. “We don’t need it. Walmart is south from here. It’s morning and the sun’s to our left, so we’re going the right way.”

“What?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrows.

Race sighed, annoyed that he had to explain this. “Sun rises in the east, so it’s in the east during the morning,” he explained, adopting a patronizing tone. “When you’re heading south, east would be on your left, because that’s how compasses work. Do you get it now?” A few cars passed them, and Race glanced at the clock to see how much time had passed. “We should be getting close. Traffic’s picking up and the speed limit just went down.”

To everyone except for Race’s surprise, they pulled into the Walmart parking lot three minutes later. Because the other cars took the highway, pretty much everyone was already there, but a large Jeep was conspicuously absent. “Ha!” Race yelled. “I win!”

Five minutes later, Spot’s Jeep whipped into the parking lot, and he got out, ten dollars already in hand. He passed the money to Race, who obnoxiously bragged about his superior navigation skills to everyone assembled there. “We would have gotten here way faster,” Spot said to Davey. “But I got stuck behind a tractor for a few miles. We had to go off-roading for a little while to get around.”

Davey gave Spot a few consoling pats on the shoulder, just before Sarah snuck up on him from behind with a tight hug. “I missed you!” she said.

Davey pried himself away. “I missed you, too. Hey, Katherine.” He waved to Sarah’s girlfriend, the Camp Willow Lake head counselor, who was standing just off to the side.

The Walmart trip was mostly uneventful. Davey grabbed snacks for himself as well as a book, and as he and Jack passed the watches, Davey grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, look!” he said, pointing them out. “You can replace my watch! I like that green one.”

Jack shook his head. “No way. That wasn’t my fault.”

Davey spun to face him, indignant. “You pushed me into the pool!”

“You should have taken your watch off,” Jack replied with a shrug.

“You’re such an ass.”

At that point, Albert and two Willow Lake girls- Smalls and a girl that Jack and Davey didn’t recognize raced by on children’s bicycles. Smalls popped a wheelie just before they vanished out of sight, and within seconds, they could hear a Walmart employee yelling at them.

Spot and Race stood together in the checkout line. Their stack of Pringles, sour gummy worms, vanilla Coke, and a pair of lightsabers moved down the conveyer belt, and Race ordered two packs of cigarettes, which the cashier bagged for him after checking his ID. Spot frowned pointedly at them. “Don’t start,” Race mumbled. Spot just shook his head.

After everyone finished shopping, they all gathered in the parking lot, where some cars were shuffled around. Albert wanted to ride with Smalls, so some arrangements had to be made to move a Willow Lake counselor into a Mountain Ridge car. The many cars caravaned to the bowling alley a few miles away, where they arrived with a rush and a lot of noise. The person at the front desk didn’t even blink at the massive group. He just calmly took their shoe sizes and money with the expression of someone whose job had made them too dead inside for anything to bother them.

Sarah dragged Jack and Davey into a lane with herself and Katherine, and Spot and Race wandered over to join them. Crutchie started toward them but, seeing that their lane was full (and filled entirely with couples), wandered over to a lane with Sniper, Buttons, and a couple of Willow lake girls, and Darcy. A few lanes over, Smalls sat in Albert’s lap, and Albert threw his head back, laughing at the scoreboard, upon which Elmer was making up ridiculous names for everyone in their lane, which also included a Willow Lake girl, Finch, Bumlets, and Itey.

Specs stared around the bowling alley, looking for a group, and eventually found a rather small group made up of Mush, Blink, and York. “Can I join you?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Mush replied. “Go grab a ball!”

Specs headed to the wall of shelves where the bowling balls were kept and carefully chose a ball. He began by testing the weights of them, but a blue glittery one caught his eye and he picked it up, noting how light it was. It was probably meant for children, but he liked it. “Wow, going for the baby ball?” a voice asked from just behind him. “Weak.”

Specs turned around, recognizing the voice, and immediately, his expression lit up. “ Romeo !” he yelled, almost dropping the ball. He tossed it back onto the shelf and pulled Romeo in for a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

Romeo grinned as they pulled apart. “Jack told me it was a town day. I called in sick. I’ve missed you guys!” Specs glanced down to see that Romeo was wearing the same hideous green and red bowling shoes that he had. He was also wearing, Specs noticed, an even uglier bowling shirt.

“Why do you have this?” Specs asked, plucking at the sleeve, which was so baggy that it fell past Romeo’s elbow.

“It’s hot,” Romeo replied with a shrug. “Don’t you think?”

“This is why we broke up,” Specs replied, rolling his eyes. “Come on, grab a ball. There’s room at my lane.”

For the next few minutes, their lane was crowded with Mountain Ridge staff, as well as a few of the Willow Lake girls, coming over to say hi to Romeo. At one point, Jack got down on his knees and pleaded for him to come back. Romeo kissed the top of Jack’s head and gave him a few pats on the cheek.

Davey was a terrible bowler. One bowl after another, the ball went right into the gutter. Katherine offered to put bumpers up, but Sarah stopped her. She was really enjoying absolutely crushing her baby brother. Race and Spot, of course, were way too competitive, and had fifty dollars riding on who would win. Every time Spot rolled a strike or a spare, Race pouted. Whenever Race did badly, Spot celebrated. At the end of their first game, Race pulled ahead of Spot by a meager ten points. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Spot grumbled. “Just add the fifty bucks to my tab.”

“I need to go, too,” Davey said, and he followed Spot toward the bathrooms, which were down a long hallway near the concession stand.

Just as they turned onto the hallway, though, they couldn’t help but notice two girls kissing against the wall. As they passed by, Davey glanced back at the girls, and his eyes widened. He grabbed Spot by the arm and dragged him into the bathroom. “ What ?” Spot yanked his arm back after the door closed behind them.

“That was Smalls,” Davey hissed, pointing in the direction of the door.

“ Smalls Smalls?” Spot asked. “Like Albert’s Smalls?” Davey nodded vigorously. “What do we do?”

Davey ran a hand through his hair, combing it back away from his face. “Should we tell Albert?”

Spot looking conflicted, but only for a moment. “I’d want someone to tell me.” Davey nodded in agreement. “But first, I seriously have to piss.”

They did what they needed to do in the bathroom and headed back out to the bowling alley. The girls were no longer in the hallway, but they could hear voices from inside the girls’ bathroom. Davey made his way over to Albert’s lane. Al was waiting for his turn, sitting on one of the plastic chairs, and Davey tapped him on the shoulder. “Can we talk to you for a minute?” he asked after Albert turned around.

“Yeah, sure,” Albert replied, confused. Davey and Spot led him to the arcade area, which was mostly deserted.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Davey started awkwardly. “This may be sort of hard to hear, but you know we’re here for you, right?”

“What is it?” Albert replied, wary.

“We caught Smalls making out with some girl by the bathroom,” Spot said in his usual blunt fashion.

The confusion and worry cleared from Albert’s face as he laughed. “Yeah, that was probably Joey. Her girlfriend.”

“Her… what?” Now Davey was the confused one.

“Yeah,” Albert replied. “We’re seeing other people. I mean, we’re still together. But just… not exclusive. It’s cool.”

“So are you dating Joey, too?” Davey asked, trying to work out exactly what the situation was.

Al shook his head, laughing again. “Definitely not. I’m not into her but also, she’s like, super gay.”

“Do you have another girlfriend?” Davey was just curious now.

“Nah. Not anything official. Just a few people I, uh, hang out with.”

At that point, Smalls came around the corner. “Oh, there you are!” she said. “I’ve been looking for you. It’s your turn.”

“Alright,” Albert replied, slinging an arm over her shoulder. “These guys were just letting me know that you’re cheating on me.”

“Good friends!” Smalls stood on her tiptoes to kiss Albert’s cheek, but she could only really reach the bottom of his jaw because of the significant height distance. “Come on.” With that, she led Al away.

“Well, that’s…” Spot searched for the right words after Smalls and Albert left.

“Different,” Davey finished.

Pretty much everyone played three games, except for a few groups who wandered off to get concessions or play in the arcade. After they finished, the Mountain Ridge staff said goodbye to the Willow Lake staff and they split up to go back to their respective camps. Romeo was in the process of saying goodbye to Specs, but Jack caught up with him. “Ro!” he said, slapping Romeo on the shoulder. “You know, we were going to have a night swim tonight. You can come back to camp with us if you want.”

Romeo beamed. “I have to go to work in the morning, but yeah! I can come for a few hours!” He turned to Specs. “Did you drive?” Specs shook his head. “Okay, you can keep me company.”

By the time everyone got back to camp after stops for food or non-Walmart stores, it was nearly dark. Jack announced the night swim and everyone excitedly rushed to change into swimsuits and grab towels. Just before they got into the pool, Romeo pulled Specs aside to one of the picnic tables. “Okay,” he said quietly enough that no one else could hear. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Specs asked.

“You look sad,” Romeo said simply.

“No, I don’t!”

Romeo just fixed Specs with a stare. “Yeah, you do,” he replied. “I mean, you seem better right now, but I was watching you for a little while before I came over.”

Specs shrugged. Much to his annoyance, he could almost feel tears pricking at his eyes as his chest tightened. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to like this in a long time. “I don’t know,” he said, blinking until his eyes felt normal. “This assistant director thing…” he gestured toward the guys, who were already leaping into the pool. “People don’t really want to hang out with the boss.”

Romeo glanced toward the pool, where Jack was engaged in a loud game of chicken with a few of the guys. “ He seems to be doing okay.” He was genuinely confused, as well as concerned.

“Jack forces his way into people’s lives,” Specs explained. “Not in a bad way, but you know. He’s just sort of that kind of person. I’m not really like that.”

“Are you sure you’re not just imagining it?” Romeo asked in a kind tone.

“Yeah, I’m sure. No one sits with me at meals except admin staff. And that’s just because I invade their table. But even admin staff… like, it’s me, and then Jack, Race, and Crutchie.” He shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

“What about Mush and JoJo?”

“Yeah.” Specs nodded. “We still run every morning. But we don’t really talk during that. Because, you know. We’re running and it’s five AM.”

Romeo leaned over and hugged Specs tightly. “Well, I love you, bro,” he said.

“Love you too.”

“You’re going to figure it out,” Romeo said confidently. “These guys just need to figure out what they’re missing out on.” He stood up. “Come on, I want to go swim.”

Chapter Text

The rest of training went off without a hitch, for the most part. The lifeguards picked up the habit of pantsing each other at every opportunity, which Jack and Specs finally had to shut down after the game began to spread among the rest of the staff. One unnamed counselor got pantsed while going commando, which put an end to the whole situation.

On the first official morning of camp, admin was abuzz with energy as the staff gathered there, waiting to get their rosters and start scheduling the week. Jack stood at the front of the room, reading from a list on Specs’ clipboard. “Okay,” he said, calling everyone to order. “Come get your roster when I call your unit. Harlem- you’ve got the little kids. Woodside- middle school. Flushing- you get high school.” A wave of genuine relief washed through Davey. He had been extremely nervous about his first week as unit leader, and the high school boys were easy to manage. The worst they ever did was sneak cell phones in, which Davey didn’t really care about. It’s not like there was cell service on Flushing Hill, anyway.

He took his roster from Jack, who held him back for a moment. “I need to show you something,” Jack said. “Come see me during scheduling. It’ll only take a minute.”

Davey nodded and headed back over to the table that Flushing had claimed, and the four of them leaned over the roster. York didn’t know any of the kids, of course, but the other three recognized a few of the names. The high school group tended to be pretty much the same guys every year. Bumlets and Itey, who had been in that group just the year before, craned their necks over Davey’s shoulder to see which of their friends were coming back.

Specs passed out blank schedules and the program staff took their seats at the front of the room, ready to take requests for program blocks. Jack explained briefly how scheduling worked before letting everyone get going. “You could always plan some night canoeing with Spot,” he joked

Without looking up from his schedule, where he was mapping out the guards’ breaks, Spot replied calmly. “I will scoop out your eyeballs and play ping pong with them.”

Blink nodded sagely. “That’s what happened to me,” he confirmed.

“I thought you lost your eye because of Secret Service,” York said sardonically.

“Yeah. It grew back.”

The Flushing boys planned out their week, which would consist of a lot of free time. With the younger kids, you needed to keep them busy at all times, otherwise you might end up with a riot on your hands. The teenagers were more self-sufficient and they were generally more interested in being with their friends than they were in the activities. Albert and Elmer planned to lead the group on a hike up the camp’s mountain, during which Davey and York happily scheduled their breaks.

While York stood in line to request pool time with Spot, Davey took a moment to find Jack, who was deeply entrenched in paperwork with Specs by his side. “What’d you need to show me?” Davey asked, tapping on the top of Jack’s head.

“Oh, good. Step into my office.”

Davey followed Jack to his office, which was covered in sticky notes. Jack rummaged through a drawer and produced a cardboard box. “What’s this?” Davey asked.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’ll find out if you open it.”

Davey reached into his pocket, pulling out a Swiss Army Knife, which he popped open, slicing carefully into the box. Inside, there was an extremely nice, waterproof digital watch in his favorite color, green. “You actually got me a watch,” he said, plucking it out of the box and turning the watch over in his hands.

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “I actually ordered it right after you broke yours.”

“You mean after you broke it,” Davey pointed out.

Jack shrugged. “Potato, potahto.”

“Not really.” Davey turned the box over to read the back. “But this is really nice, Jack. It must have been expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Just take it.”

“Well… okay,” Davey replied awkwardly. He had never been very good at accepting gifts. “Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Jack leaned in and kissed Davey, lingering for a few moments, before playfully shoving him away. “Now get back to work before I fire you.”

“Fine,” Davey grumbled. “But come see me tonight, okay?” Jack nodded. “Oh, by the way,” Davey continued. “Thanks for the high schoolers.”

“I knew you were kind of freaking out,” Jack explained. “You’re gonna do great.”

The first campers started to arrive shortly after checkout. Two older boys, a pair of brothers, were the first to arrive, and immediately claimed a couple of bottom bunks, chattering excitedly. They greeted Albert and Elmer, who had overlapped with them in the same group for a summer at camp. The summer before, the two younger counselors had had trouble commanding the respect of the teenagers, who still saw them as campers, just slightly older. Now, though, they were more confident in their jobs after a full year out of high school, and with a summer of work and responsibility already under their belts.

Davey greeted parents and campers at the bottom of Flushing Hill with a roster, directing the kids where to go. With the younger kids, the parents usually came in with them to help them find their bunks and get settled in. Sometimes, it took some serious work to get a parent to leave. Davey had seen plenty of crying parents during check-in. With the older kids, though, the parents almost never came up to the cabins. Sometimes it seemed like the car had hardly even stopped before the kid was out the door and on the way up the hill. The kids who recognized Davey said hi, and he got a few hugs, which he quickly diverted into a camp-appropriate side hug, before they ran up the hill.

The teenage groups were generally smaller, so check-in went quickly, and after checking the final name off of his roster, Davey made his way, huffing from the exercise, back up the hill. The group was gathered around the small fire circle, where they all sat on logs, talking loudly. Someone had started a game of Mafia, and a boy that Davey remembered named Mason stood on a large rock, leading the game.

They invited Davey to join, although he had never actually played before, but found that he loved. The group played one round after another, each more elaborate than the last. A few of the guys took turns leading the game, culminating in a boy named Evan, who was a classic theater kid, acting out entire scenes complete with voices, mannerisms, and backstories to each character. Davey completely lost track of time until his radio buzzed to life. “Spot to Dave,” he heard over the radio.

He scrambled to grab his radio, where it was clipped onto his backpack a few feet away. “This is Davey, go ahead!”

“Are you guys ready for your swim tests yet?” Davey glanced at his new watch, and saw that they were supposed to be at the pool in three minutes.

“Uh, almost!,” he said into the radio, before turning to the group. “Go get changed for swim tests. Hurry!” He hit the call button on the radio again. “Just a couple more minutes.” The group scattered to their cabins, inside which, he could hear them rushing around, digging through suitcases for swim trunks and towels.

During dinner, Jack stole Davey away subtly, gesturing from the kitchen where no one else could see him. Thanks to Davey’s brother, Les, word had gotten out last year that he and Jack were together, and they both decided that it would be best if they weren’t seen together too much this year. Davey excused himself after dropping a platter of dinner rolls off at his table, and slipped back into the kitchen. “Well?” Jack asked. “How’s it going?”

Davey shrugged. “Well, they’re all still alive. And no one’s lost yet.”

Jack winced. “That bad?” he asked.

“Nah, it’s actually fine. We were just late for swim tests because we were playing Mafia.”

“Oh! You had me worried,” Jack replied, relieved. “I’ll come after bedtime tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” Davey glanced around and, seeing Pie-Eater standing about four feet away, tugged Jack into the pantry, where they had a moment of much appreciated alone time, before Davey made his way back out to his group.

In the middle of the dining hall, Blink and York sat at a table full of younger kids. Usually, the little kids gravitated toward Mush, but his table was full. Now, though, the two counselors were being interrogated by children. “What’s that on your face?”

“Are your eyes hurt?”

“Do you have eyes?”

“What happened?”

“Can I see?”

“What’s it feel like?”

“Do you ever put stuff in the hole?”

York sent Blink a look that clearly said help me , but Blink was just as far out of his depth as York was. “It’s, uh…” York searched for words. “I keep my eye in my backpack so I can use it to spy.” Blink covered his face with his hands, and the boys squealed with delighted disgust.

One boy, who was so small that he looked too young to even be at camp, turned to Blink. “Do you keep yours in your backpack, too?” he asked in a small voice.

Blink glanced shiftily around the dining hall. “Maybe,” he said mysteriously. “Or maybe I’ve already got it set up somewhere and I’m keeping an eye on things.”

After dinner, the campers and staff all made their way to the amphitheater, where the counselors all introduced themselves and ran skits. They sang some songs and Mush and Blink got up and did a brief stand-up comedy routine, until the fire started to die down. A hush fell across the crowd as Jack made his way to the front of the semi-circle, where he took a seat cross-legged on the ground next to the fire.

In a voice loud enough that you could hear him, but quiet enough that you really, really had to listen, Jack told the story of how the stars in the sky were created by a hummingbird. His voice rose and fell with the cadence of the story, which he had told a hundred times before. It was, Davey knew, Jack’s favorite story. Jack once confided to Davey that sometimes when he was upset, he told himself the story to calm down. It was at times like this, when Jack was so deeply in his element, confident and happy and at peace, that Davey loved him most.

After the campfire, Spot went back to Manhattan with Race. They settled into Race’s bunk to watch a movie, which naturally evolved into a forgotten laptop balanced on the end of the bed and the two of them entangled in Race’s sheets. Spot bent his head down to bite at Race’s collarbone, but pulled away, frowning. “What’s wrong?” Race asked, face flushed and hair a mess.

“You smell like smoke,” Spot replied, shaking his head.

“We just left the campfire,” Race pointed out, but his voice lacked the confidence that he usually carried.

“It’s not that kind of smoke and you know it.”

Race tried to pull Spot back in. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, but Spot was already sitting up, adjusting his shirt. “Spot, come on.” There was no answer. “Spotter.”

Spot just picked the laptop up and put it back on his lap, where it had been balanced before. “Let’s just watch the movie,” he said in a sullen voice.

Outside at the base of the hill, Jack and Davey sat on the edge of the road near some bushes, in the shadows. Jack was tracing the lines of Davey’s hand, laughing occasionally at something that Davey whispered in his ear. At one point, Davey pointed up at the sky, which was lit up by a nearly full moon, and Jack leaned his head against Davey’s shoulder contentedly.

They thought they were alone, but Specs sat quietly by the fire ring a couple of yards away, back against a log, knees near his chest, staring out at the lake in the distance, where the moon reflected in the water. A fish jumped, scattering the image of the moon into rings, and Specs looked away.

Chapter Text

Five AM dawned dark and early for Specs. He dragged himself out of bed after quickly shutting off his alarm, doing his best to avoid waking Crutchie as he got dressed for his run. Crutchie stirred slightly and rolled over in his sleep, and Specs froze, but Crutchie stayed soundly asleep. After a bit of rummaging for a shoe, which had fallen under his bunk, Specs tiptoed out of Manhattan.

He met up with Mush and JoJo near lake, where they wordlessly started to run. They had a route, beaten down solidly into a makeshift path from their feet. The three of them always did a quick lap around the camp before splitting off into the woods near the lake. A rarely used trail followed alongside the lake through the dense trees, up a small mountain that overlooked the lake. On the way there, they passed a set of shelters that Mountain Ridge used to use for more adventurous campers. As they passed by a dam on the side of the path, a beaver splashed into the water.

At the top of the mountain, they took their breaks, sitting on top of the rock face there looking over the lake where the sun was starting to rise, throwing dazzling pinks and oranges across the horizon. They shot the shit for a while before Mush turned to face Specs. “So, what’s your deal?” he asked.

Specs looked up from his watch, where he was checking his pulse. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’ve been depressed for days,” JoJo added. He and Mush glanced at each other. It seemed like they had discussed this together.

“No, I haven’t!” Specs replied defensively.

“ Dude ,” JoJo said, staring at him in disbelief.

Mush rolled his eyes. “You have. You’ve been moping around since the beginning of training, going off on your own and shit.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is this about Romeo?”

“What? No. It’s not about Ro.”

“Aha!” JoJo exclaimed, pointing a finger at Specs. “So you admit that there’s something.”

“I…” Specs faltered, aware that he was caught. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Spill,” Mush demanded.

Specs was quiet for a while as he chose his words. “It sounds kind of pathetic,” he started. “I guess being assistant director is weird. People treat me differently. And I mean, I get it. But people don’t want to hang out with the assistant director.”

Mush stared at Specs like he had sprouted another head. “Dude, what are you talking about?” he asked. “We hang out every day! And we’d invite you to do stuff, but you’re never around.”

“What?”

JoJo nodded. “You’re always off with admin staff or you go off on your own.”

“Uh…” Specs froze, cheeks reddening.

Mush reached over and grabbed Specs’ shoulder, shaking him. “We’re your friends,” he said. “Don’t be stupid. Just take your nose out of your clipboard and sit at our table at meals or something .”

JoJo stood up and stretched for a moment, before reaching for his water bottle, which he spilled all over Specs’ head. Specs flinched and shook his hair in JoJo’s direction. “Come on,” JoJo said. “I think there’s bacon this morning.” He pointed back at Specs with his now-empty water bottle. “No admin table,” he emphasized before taking off running.

At breakfast, Specs and Much quizzed a group of kids on Davey’s I Like Coffee But I Don’t Like Tea riddle while JoJo shoved one piece of bacon after another into his mouth. A few kids already knew the answer, but they were sworn to secrecy upon pain of death. After the meal, while Mush was herding his campers into a line, Specs walked by and Mush slapped him on the back. “Don’t be stupid,” he said again, and Specs gave him a thumbs up.

During a break in between sessions at the barn, Finch headed down to Manhattan to grab a book. There was a small library there, and while it didn’t have much to speak of, he was desperately bored. He scanned the shelves, finally grabbing a Harry Potter book from the shelves. There was a river rock balanced on top of the book that he didn’t see, and it fell to the floor with a loud thud.

In the corner on one of the couches, Crutchie jolted awake. “Oh, shit,” Finch said. “I didn’t see you there.”

Crutchie blinked a few times, clearing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s, uh. It’s okay.” He was disoriented and groggy, and it took him a minute to figure out where he was. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” Finch offered, but Crutchie shook his head.

“No, seriously,” Crutchie said. “You can stay. I don’t mind.” Finch looked skeptical. “Really, it’s fine.”

“Alright,” Finch replied as he sat on the floor. With anyone else, Crutchie would have offered him a seat on one of the couches, but there were still two other couches and an armchair free. He knew that Finch just liked sitting on the floor. “How’s it going?”

“It’s fine-” Crutchie started, but he trailed off. “Actually, can I talk to you about something? Is that cool?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I’m just mad,” he said. “I shouldn’t be, maybe, but whatever.” Finch stared at him, waiting for Crutchie to go on. “Just like, Race and Jack keep ditching me for their boyfriends. And I get it that they’re just happy and all that. And I don’t even mind it that much with Race, because let’s be real. He always ditched me for Spot even before they got together.” Finch nodded. “But I just thought Jack would- I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“You thought he’d care more,” Finch supplied. It wasn’t a question.

“Well, yeah,” Crutchie said with a shrug.

“You thought you meant enough to him that he wouldn’t just bail.” Finch was staring straight at Crutchie now, and Crutchie shrank slightly under the intensity of his gaze. He nodded. “Maybe you should just talk to him. Use your words. Talk it out like adults.”

“Uh, yeah…” Crutchie averted his eyes, busying himself with a bracelet that he had tied to his left crutch.

“I’m gonna go,” Finch said, standing up from his spot on the floor. “I hope you guys work it out.”

Crutchie bit his lip and sank into the couch, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of him.

Finch was right, and Crutchie knew it. He gathered up his things and headed out the door toward his golf cart. “Crutchie to Jack,” he said into the radio as he closed the door to Manhattan.

“This is Jack, go ahead.”

“Where are you?”

“Dining hall.”

Crutchie threw the golf cart into reverse, whipping it in a tight semi-circle in the parking area as he backed out before moving on to the dining hall. Jack’s golf cart was parked out near the back, and Crutchie headed inside to find him.

He eventually found Jack in the pantry, where he was helping Bill and Darcy take inventory. “Hey,” he said, looking up to see Crutchie. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk for a minute?” Crutchie asked. “When you’re done. Do you need help?”

Jack held up a finger as he counted packs of graham crackers. “Thirty-seven,” he said to Bill, who jotted the figure down. “We’re actually about to finish,” he said. “But just hang out for a second, okay?”

Crutchie leaned against the door of the walk-in in the hallway, watching them finish up. There wasn’t really room for four people in the pantry, so he would have just gotten in the way if he had tried to help. Finally, Jack finished and stepped out into the hallway. They walked outside and sat down on Jack’s cart. “What’d you want to talk about?” Jack asked.

“I was just thinking about how-”

Crutchie’s sentence was interrupted by the radio buzzing. “Blink to Jack.”

Jack winced. “Sorry. Hang on.” He grabbed his radio. “Go for Jack.”

“Can you come talk to someone for me? We’re down by the lodge.”

Jack groaned. “Oh, for fucks sake,” he said before pressing the call button down. “Yeah. Be right there.” He turned to Crutchie. “Blink’s got a little asshole for a camper. Want to come?”

They pulled away from the dining hall and down the road to the lodge, where Blink and Tommy were in a standoff with a freckly boy of about twelve years old while Mike and Ike entertained the other kids with a game of Poison Frog. The kid had his arms crossed with a defiant look, and Crutchie waited while Jack went down to talk to the kid. He basically warned him that if his attitude didn’t improve, he would have to call his parents. It took some convincing, but after a few minutes, the kid reluctantly rejoined the group.

Knowing that they were out of earshot of the loud game near the lodge, Jack went back to the golf cart. “ Okay ,” he said with a flourish. “Now. What’s up?”

Crutchie took a breath. In all of the running around that they had done, he had sort of lost some of his nerve. He pulled himself together, though, and started talking. “I kind of feel like you’re ditching me for Davey. And Race with Spot, but you know how they are.” Jack’s brow furrowed as his listened. “And I’m seriously so happy for you. Seriously. You two are great together and you know I love you and want you to be happy. But I just miss you, you know?” Jack nodded. “I’ve hardly seen you this summer.”

Jack was quiet for a bit while he bit his lip, fiddling with his hands. “You’re my best friend,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.”

They sat in awkward silence for a minute, both of them looking anywhere but each other. “Well!” Crutchie finally said, clapping his hands together uncomfortably. “That’s it!”

Jack knocked Crutchie’s hat off of his head, exposing a mess of sandy hair. Crutchie scrambled to get it back on. “Seriously, bro,” Jack continued. “I’ll do better. Seriously.”

That night, Crutchie got back to Manhattan late. A shipment of new archery equipment came in and Sniper needed help getting the bows assembled. He collapsed onto his bunk with an exhausted sigh. “You good?” Specs asked from his own bunk, where he was tying a friendship bracelet while listening to something on his phone.

“ Long day,” Crutchie said without elaborating. Specs nodded and looked back to his bracelet with a knowing smirk that Crutchie didn’t quite understand. Crutchie pulled his 3DS out and booted up the game that he was in the middle of, and soon found himself absorbed by it. Everything else was drowned out until a knock at the door broke his concentration.

He looked over his shoulder to the door to see a shirtless Jack with a towel over his shoulder. “Does anyone need the bathroom?” he asked casually. “I’m about to get in the shower.”

“Go ahead,” Specs replied.

“What-” Crutchie started. “Why do you need the shower?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Hygiene, dumbass. Ever heard of it?” He paused. “Oh, wait. Forgot my shampoo.” With that, he turned and disappeared around the corner toward Race’s room. Crutchie got up and followed him. Jack was in Race’s room, rummaging through a bag on the extra bunk, where a blue bedspread was laid out and a red snapback dangled from the bedframe post.

“What are you doing?”

Jack looked up from his bag, just for a moment. “I moved back in.”

Chapter Text

High school campers were ridiculously, blissfully easy to take care of. They put themselves to bed, they were able to build their own fires, they didn’t lose their water bottles or towels or shoes every four minutes, and not one camper had come to Davey crying all week. Meanwhile, Blink was wrestling with a pair of feuding middle school boys, a chronically homesick kid, and one camper who only spoke French. Mush had twelve bedwetters.

On Tuesday, the older group went on a hike. Davey and York stayed back, taking their breaks. Neither of them were hikers. Davey sat with Jack at admin while Jack worked, soaking up the air conditioning and wifi. “What’s your group doing for cookout tonight?” Jack asked. Every Tuesday, the kitchen staff got the night off and the units were responsible for cooking their own food over the fire.

“Walking tacos and dump cake,” Davey replied.

Jack nodded. “Okay, I want in on that. Make enough for me.”

“You got it.” Davey glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Give me a ride?”

“Sure.”

Back at Flushing Hill, the campers were taking quick post-hike showers before going back to their cabins for some free time, during which most of them planned to take naps. Albert and Elmer were supervising and yelled out in relief when Davey started up the hill. “Oh, thank god,” Elmer said. “We’re going to sleep.”

“How was the hike?” Davey asked.

“Snakes,” Albert said wearily. “Snakes everywhere.”

With four showers and a fairly small group, they finished quickly. York came back and headed up the hill to sit on the steps of the highest cabin to read while Davey sat on the steps of Flushing. Within about ten minutes, the cabins were quiet and the lights were out. Davey took out some paperwork that he filled out every day, writing updates on each camper. He had made his way through about half of the group when a cabin door opened and one of the boys, Mason, came over to him. “Can I sit there?” Mason asked, gesturing to the empty steps next to Davey.

Davey glanced up the hill to make sure that York was still there and that he wasn’t going to be alone with a camper before patting the step next to him. “What’s up?” Davey asked.

Mason fiddled with a lanyard tied to his water bottle. “You’re gay, right?” he finally asked.

“I- uh… I’m not really supposed to talk about my personal life,” Davey replied reluctantly.

Mason carried on as if Davey hadn’t said anything. “Because I know last year everyone was saying that Jack was your boyfriend, because your brother said so.” Mason paused, but Davey could sense that he had more to say, so he stayed quiet, waiting. “How’d you know you were gay?”

There it is , Davey thought. “I really can’t talk about his personal life like that,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not allowed. Do you think you’re gay?”

Mason shrugged. He refused to make eye contact with Davey, staring instead at a large black ant near his shoe. “I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.” Davey nodded, and Mason’s next words spilled out in a panicked rush. “But you can’t tell anyone! You’re the only person who knows. I just know you’re gay-” Davey opened his mouth to say something, but Mason just kept going. “I know, you can’t talk about it, but you are, right? I just figured you’d be okay with it, and-”

“Mason,” Davey interrupted. “Of course I’m okay with it. There’s nothing wrong with it. And anyone who says there is is wrong.”

“Okay,” Mason replied. “Thanks.” The fear that had been radiating off of him now seemed like a sort of nervous energy, which was an improvement.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Davey promised. “But if you just need to talk, let me know, alright?”

During cookout that evening, the counselors didn’t have to lift a finger. They told the campers how to make walking tacos and the kids gathered wood, lit a fire, cooked the meat, chopped vegetables, and got the dump cake in the dutch oven cooking. It was the fastest, smoothest cookout that Davey had ever been a part of. Jack showed up just as the tacos were finishing up and Davey handed him the food that had been set aside for him. Mason kept glancing at them when he thought Davey wasn’t looking.

They finished quickly, and had time to go for their night swim early. “Davey to Spot,” Davey called over the radio.

“What?” Spot answered.

“We’re done early. Is it okay if we go ahead and come to the pool now for the night swim?”

“Bring me a taco.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes?”

There was a moment of silence on Spot’s end. “Extra cheese,” he finally said.

“Great,” Davey replied. “We’ll be there soon.”

Davey sent the boys to go change after they got all of the dishes washed and the fire was put out. His radio buzzed to life again. “Blink to Davey.”

“This is Davey, go ahead.”

Blink sounded extremely frazzled on the other end. “If you guys are already done, can you send someone to help us?” The radio went silent before Blink spoke again. “Please?”

Davey looked to his fellow counselors. “I’m about to go on break,” Albert said.

York and Elmer looked at each other for a minute, almost seeming to have a private conversation, before holding their fists out. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Elmer said. He was rock while York was scissors, so York found himself shouldering his backpack and heading down the hill to Woodside.

Woodside was absolute mayhem. Blink was lecturing two boys in time out. The boys were holding hands, but clearly didn’t want to be. “You two are going to learn to be civil,” Blink was saying. Tommy and one of the twins were crouched by the fire, doing their best to make it start. The twin fanned a piece of flaming newspaper, trying to get the logs to catch while Tommy tossed twigs and pine straw on top of it. By the picnic tables, the other twin was trying to reason with a kid named Louis. He held up a sheet of notebook paper, upon which he had written some phrases. “Louis. S’il vous plait. Uh… cuisinier le chaud chin. Chen? Chee-in?”

Louis stared at him quizzically. “Quelle?” he asked. The twin hung his head in frustration.

As York stepped through the trees, Blink looked up gratefully. “Bless you,” he said.

“What do you need help with?” York asked.

“Can you make a fire?” He nodded. “Okay, go help Mike. And tell Tommy to work on chopping vegetables.”

York excused Tommy, and Mike sat back on his heels to let him work. Carefully, he rearranged the fire setup, which had been all but destroyed in their many attempts to get it going. He created a log cabin style, and after setting up the tinder and kindling in the center, lit a piece of dryer lint within the pile. Within about two minutes, the logs were catching. “How did you do that?” Mike asked in awe.

York shrugged. “The setup is the most important part.”

“You’re a fire bender,” Blink said.

“Obviously,” York replied.

Now that the fire was started and the fighting kids were holding hands, they had more time to prep the food. Ike mimed what he needed Louis to do, so soon enough, Louis was chopping tomatoes into neat chunks. Another camper sat next to him. “Tomato,” the boy said, pointing at it.

“Tomate,” Louis said, also pointing at it.

“Oh. That’s… almost the same.”

“Looks like you’ve got things covered here,” York said. “I’m gonna head up to the pool.”

“Okay,” Blink replied. “But I mean, you can get some food. I know walking tacos are kind of small.” Blink’s group was making foil packets filled with vegetables, meats, and spices. Each one was customized for each person, and they looked significantly more appealing than taco meat in a snack pack of Doritos had.

“Fine.” York took a seat at a picnic table with Blink next to him and started folding tin foil into a makeshift packet in which to cook his food.

“Potatoes?” Blink asked, passing a bowl over. York took it and scooped a few into his foil pack. “Carrots?”

“I’m allergic.”

Blink just blinked at him. “That’s tragic.”

York shrugged. “They’re too sweet. I don’t like sweet food.”

“ At all ? What about chocolate?”

“It makes my teeth hurt.”

“S’mores?”

“I’ve never had one.”

Blink slammed his hands on the table. Quickly, he folded the foil over on their foil packs and threw them into the fire. “Follow me.” He turned to his co-counselors. “We’ll be right back. Five minutes.” Blink led the way to the staff cabin. He reached into a box, from which he withdrew a candle and lighter. He lit the candle, balancing it on the floor, and grabbed a grocery bag from under his suitcase. With a bit of rummaging around, he found a bag of marshmallows, a chocolate bar, and a pack of graham crackers.

“Why do you have this?” York asked.

“Because s’mores are good,” Blink replied, now pulling a retractable fork from his backpack, upon which he impaled a marshmallow.

“No,” York replied, taking a seat on the floor. “Why do you have this in your cabin ?”

“Chronic case of the munchies.” He slowly started cooking the marshmallow over the candle, rotating it periodically. “The candle’s not ideal,” he explained. “But it’s good when you need a snack away from kids. It just takes a long time.”

Blink’s roasting process was painstaking and slow, but soon, it was perfectly golden and beginning to droop off of the fork. Just when York thought that he was going to take it away from the flame, Blink put the marshmallow directly in the flame, waiting until it caught fire. He held it up, watching it blacken and burn for a few seconds, before blowing it out. “Crack a graham cracker in half and put three squares of chocolate on one half.” York followed his instructions and Blink took the two halves, trapping the marshmallow in the middle and creating a sort of sandwich. He passed the s’more over to York, who eyed it dubiously.

He took a bite, and the still-hot marshmallow squeezed out of the sizes. He stayed quiet as Blink watched him expectantly. “Well?” Blink finally asked.

York handed the rest of the s’more over to Blink. “Yeah… I hate it.”

Back in Manhattan, Crutchie and Race played a game of Super Smash Bros, loudly taunting each other. Jack barged into the main room and collapsed on the couch, laying across both of them. “Get off of me,” Race said as he shoved Jack.

“No,” Jack replied, “But seriously, is that all you’ve got? Why are you so weak?”

“I’m not weak,” Race protested. “You’re just heavy.”

With a smirk, Crutchie lifted Jack from above, sending him flying to the floor. Jack cursed and slapped Crutchie’s good leg. “Where’s Specs?” Jack asked. “I haven’t seen him hardly at all today.”

“He’s helping Finch with some stuff at the barn,” Race said. They both glanced toward Crutchie, who turned slightly red.

Jack rolled over so that he was still lying on the floor, but now facing his friends. “Okay,” he said, holding his face in his hands and swinging his legs in the air like they were gossiping at a sleepover. “What’s the deal with you and Finch?”

“There is no deal,” Crutchie mumbled.

Race scoffed. “There’s so obviously a deal. What happened with you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie,” Jack said. “You’re not a good liar.”

Crutchie glared at him. “First of all, I’m a great liar. Second of all, I’m serious. Nothing happened. Last summer… you know, happened. But then camp happened and nothing happened.”

Jack dropped the sleepover pose and sat up sharply. “Wait a second. Did you do that thing you do?”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you ignore people and ghost them when they like you.”

“I don’t do that!” Crutchie snapped indignantly.

“Bro.” Jack grabbed Crutchie’s knee and shook it. “That summer you thought I liked you, you didn’t talk to me for two weeks.”

Race burst into loud laughter. “You liked Crutchie?” he yelled.

“No!”

“Don’t act like it’s so impossible,” Crutchie said.

“Charles,” Jack said seriously.

“My name isn’t Charles.”

“Charles Eduardo Chesterfield.”

“Also not my name.”

“Did you or did you not ghost Finch?”

Race and Jack were clearly hanging on his every word. Crutchie glanced between the two of them before shaking his head. “That’s enough of this conversation. Goodbye.”

Chapter Text

At breakfast the next morning, Jack was visibly on edge. He didn’t eat anything- just rushed around cleaning and checking that everything was where it should be. Specs was scribbling frantically in a notebook, Crutchie was doing something back in the kitchen, and Race and Spot didn’t even make it to breakfast. Davey stepped back into the kitchen and found Jack and Pie-Eater organizing the walk-in freezer. “What are you doing?” Davey asked.

“Can’t talk,” Jack said shortly. “Surprise inspections today.” Davey turned to go back to the dining area, but Jack stopped him. “Wait. Can your boys help mop after breakfast?”

Davey nodded. “Sure. Just make sure you take a break and eat something. At least drink some water.”

“We’ll see.”

Jack had been up since three AM when he finally listened to the voicemail that had been waiting for him, announcing that the camp board would be coming to check up on the camp- and on Jack’s progress as director. He and Crutchie tackled the dining hall and kitchens, Spot and Race went to work on water activities, Sniper straightened up archery, and Finch and the equestrian staff, bless them, always kept the barn spotless and up to code, so they really had nothing to do.

As soon as he was certain that the walk-in was up to all par, Jack met up with Henry and Crutchie by the ovens. “Okay,” Jack said as he consulted a list. “Walk-ins- check. Pantry- check. Cooking shit?”

“Check,” Henry replied.

“Dining room.”

“Check.”

“DHEC?”

“We’re good.”

Up at the pool, Race and Spot worked together to get it into good shape for the inspection. Spot sent Hot Shot, JoJo, and Boots down to the other water activities, as well. Spot knelt by the edge, testing the pH balances while Race skimmed the water with the long net. “Hey, when you’re done, can you grab me my sunglasses?” Race asked.

Spot was already wrapping up, so he stood up and started toward Race’s backpack. “Where are they?”

“Front pocket.”

Spot dug through the front pocket of Race’s backpack, but didn’t find anything other than some gum, a nail, a skein of embroidery floss, a ten dollar bill, and a pocket knife. “They’re not in here,” he called.

“Try the middle pocket.”

He unzipped the middle pocket, pushing a Rubik’s cube aside. Race’s wallet and car keys were in there, as well as his sunglasses, a lighter, and a half-full pack of cigarettes. With a huff, Spot held the cigarettes up. “Seriously?” he asked, annoyed.

Race glanced up and after focusing on what Spot was holding, shook his head. “Not now.”

Spot started to put them back, but stopped short. “Actually, no. We’re gonna talk about this. You always say ‘not now’.”

Race turned back toward the pool. “Go ahead and talk.”

“You’re going to kill yourself,” Spot said. “I know you think it’s this cool thing or whatever shit you’ve got going on in your head.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Race snapped. “You don’t know what’s going on in my head.” He looked back at Spot then to the net in his hands, then back at Spot. After a beat, he dropped the net on the pool deck. “Clean your own damn pool.”

“Race-” Race snatched his things away from Spot, slung his bag over one shoulder, and stormed off down the hill.

Spot started after him, and Race said, without even glancing back, “ Don’t fucking follow me.”

The inspectors showed up around ten and had Jack show them around. They took notes on everything, even things that Jack didn’t think they would notice. The inspectors sat in on a few activities, including an arts and crafts lesson with Mush’s group that involved glue and feathers everywhere . A kid asked Mush if he could go to the bathroom. “Take a buddy to the dining hall,” Mush said.

“Excuse me,” a board member asked. “Why do they need to go to the dining hall to use the restroom?”

“Oh, the plumbing in here isn’t good and the toilet overflows whenever you flush it,” Mush explained.

At the end of the inspection, the board members spoke with Jack up in admin. “We understand that you inherited an old camp, and that you’re working with what you’ve got,” the board member said. “But this camp desperately needs upgrades. Your kitchen appliances are ten years past needing an upgrade, the toilets don’t work right, and you’re still using the same canoes that we used when I was a camper here.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “There wasn’t room in the budget for anything, though.”

“Well, no. You’re going to have to do some fundraising. I’d estimate that you’re going to need… what, at least thirty thousand dollars?” The man looked to the rest of the board, who nodded.

“ What ?” Jack’s jaw dropped. “How am I supposed to raise that much money?”

“That was part of the job description,” a cold looking woman said. “You are responsible for camp fundraising. Can you do that?”

Jack bit his lip. “I’ll… figure something out.”

After lunch, Spot passed Davey as Davey walked toward the admin building. “Hey, Dave,” Spot said. “You busy?”

“I’m on my break,” Davey replied. “Heading up to see Jack.”

“Jack can wait. Come with me.” Spot led a reluctant Davey toward the Brooklyn cabin, which was nearby and currently empty. Davey had never been in this cabin. It smelled like chlorine and wet swim trunks and towels were draped across all of the railings to dry. “Sit.” Spot pointed at a bunk across from his own and Davey sat down, waiting expectantly for whatever Spot had to say.

But Spot didn’t say anything. “Well?” Davey prompted.

“Race is mad at me,” he said with a shrug. “It’s stupid. I told him he needs to stop smoking.”

“And?”

“And nothing! He’s pissed now.”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “And how did you say it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have absolutely no sense of tact,” Davey said. “You don’t approach anything politely and it can come off as abrasive.”

Spot glared. “Watch it, Jacobs.”

“It’s true,” he said simply.

“I told him how he’s going to kill himself, and shit like that. He just thinks it’s cool.”

“I don’t know about that,” Davey replied slowly. “I mean, obviously I don’t know Race like that. But I kind of got the sense that he seems to be doing it out of stress more than anything else.”

“Stress or not, what kind of idiot picks up smoking right after his mom dies from lung cancer?” At this point, Spot stood up abruptly and paced around the small room, frustrated.

“I never said it was smart. People pick up self-destructive habits all the time.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Spot snapped. “Just let him do it?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Davey said. “He’s not my boyfriend. But if I were him- and thank god I’m not, by the way- I do not want to have to kiss you- I’d want you to be there for me.” Spot opened his mouth to say something, but Davey held up a hand. “His mother died two months ago. Give him time.”

At the archery range, the high school boys were taking turns shooting at balloons filled with paint on a large canvas. They went up one at a time with three arrows before letting the next boy go. Sniper instructed while the other staff sat around talking. Albert and Elmer led the group in a game of Bananagrams at one picnic table, and York sat at the other table, reading. A shadow fell over his book, and he looked up to see Conrad standing there. Conrad was a sixteen year old boy with curly blond hair and an expression that looked like he always smelled something bad. “Uh… yes?” York asked, vaguely annoyed. His book was just getting good.

“Can I talk to you?” Conrad asked. “Over there?” He gestured toward a clear area away from the group, but still close enough that they were okay to be together.

York got up and followed him, waiting expectantly for whatever Conrad needed to tell him. “I don’t really know how to say this,” Conrad started. “I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s incredibly inappropriate.” York barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at this pretentious kid. “See, I got up last night to use the bathroom, and I saw two of the guys in the group over there, kissing.” He widened his eyes to emphasize his point. “A lot .”

“Uh…” York glanced around awkwardly, wishing that Davey was there to take over. “I, uh… who was it?”

Conrad smiled wryly. “Well, I wouldn’t want to say and get anyone in trouble,” he said. “But maybe look and see who has the really obvious hickeys.”

“Go back to the group,” York said with a sigh. “Actually, wait. Go back to the group but don’t say anything about this. I’ll handle it.”

“What are you going to do to them?” Conrad asked.

“Just… that’s not really your business, Conrad.”

Conrad smugly made his way back to the group, and Albert and Elmer looked at York quizzically. He shook his head and went back to his book.

Within an hour, though, they met back up with Davey at the pool. The boys still needed to change, so they lined up to use the two changing rooms. York grabbed Davey and pulled him aside. “Conrad saw two of the kids making out last night,” he hissed.

Davey winced and glanced over at the group. He looked straight for Mason, who was patiently waiting in line while chatting with some of the guys. “Did he say who it was?”

“No,” York replied. “That kid’s a little shit.” Davey nodded solemnly in agreement. “He said whoever it is has hickeys now, so it’s probably a pretty good time to find out.”

York and Davey took their spots by the pool gate, which the kids would have to cross by on the way from the changing areas to the pool. They came out one by one, and the two counselors glanced quickly at each of them as they went by. Sure enough, Mason had a dark, round bruise near his ear. It took a while to find the second kid. All of the boys walked by, none of whom seemed to be sporting any hickeys, but York noticed that a few of them had their towels draped across their shoulders, covering their necks. They turned and watched as the campers dropped their towels on the lounge chairs around the pool. Davey had almost given up until a brown spot near Evan’s collarbone caught his attention.

He subtly pointed it out to York, who asked quietly, “What do we do now?”

“Nothing right now,” Davey muttered. “It’s too obvious. We can talk to them later.” He paused, taking a moment to look over at Albert and Elmer, who were sitting in chairs by the pool, talking. “We can keep this between us,” he said. “Everyone doesn’t need to know.”

“Should we tell Jack?”

Davey thought for a moment. “I’ll ask him his opinion without any names. He’ll probably understand.”

Over at the pool, Mason and Evan cannonballed in together, and Davey, as much of a hassle as this could end up being, felt his heart swell with pride.

Chapter Text

Davey found Jack in Manhattan after dinner. Jack was about to fall asleep from the stress of the day, and stretched out on his bunk under his blanket. “Hey, Jack,” Davey said at the door before seeing him. “Can I- oh, sorry .”

Jack glanced back toward the door. “No, it’s okay. I’m not asleep yet.”

Davey stepped in and sat on the edge of the bed next to Jack. “Are you okay?” he asked. “How was the inspection?” With a loud groan, Jack flipped over so that his face was buried in his pillow. “Oh, shit. What happened?” Davey reached out and started rubbing small circles on his back.

Jack said something, but it came out too muffled by the pillows to understand.

“What was that?” Davey asked.

He turned his face just a bit so that he could see Davey. “Thirty thousand dollars,” he said in a dead voice. “I have to raise thirty thousand dollars.”

“ What ?” Davey exclaimed. Jack lifted the edge of the blanket and motioned for Davey to join him, which Davey did. He pulled Jack in close, hardly even flinching at Jack’s constantly cold toes brushed against his leg. “Why do you need to raise that much?”

“I guess we need to fix the camp up,” he said into Davey’s neck. “There’s all this stuff that needs to get replaced and it’s all really expensive. Davey, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. If anyone can convince anyone to donate that much money, it’d be you.”

“What am I going to do ?”

Davey smoothed back Jack’s hair and kissed him quickly. “You can’t do anything about it tonight,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

Jack shrugged, but he almost seemed to release some of the tension that he carried. Just a little bit. “What did you need to see me for?” he asked.

“Oh,” Davey hesitated. “I don’t want to stress you out more.”

“Unless you’re about to ask me for forty thousand dollars, it can’t be worst than this.”

“Okay. I need thirty-five thousand dollars,” Davey said seriously.

Jack pushed his feet against Davey’s legs, which he knew Davey hated. “Request denied. Try again.”

“Seriously, I think you might have bad circulation to your feet,” Davey said, jerking his legs away. “That’s unnatural.” Jack watched him expectantly. “Okay, so we’ve got a bit of an issue in my group. Two of the campers have been sneaking off making out. That kid, Conrad told York.”

Jack snorted. “Do you know which kids it is?” he asked, barely containing a laugh.

“Yeah, but I promised one of them that I wouldn’t tell anyone that he’s gay, so I don’t really want to say.”

Jack finally lost his composure and burst out laughing. “Are they in the same cabin?” he asked between laughs.

“Yeah.”

“Split them up and tell them to stop being so obvious. Other than that…” he laughed again. “There’s not really anything you need to do about it. Congrats on your first Mountain Ridge sex scandal!”

“It’s not a sex scandal,” Davey replied indignantly.

“It’s a joke , Jacobs. Trust me, it happens every year or two. It was me the summer when I was sixteen.”

“ Jack .”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

“I’ve seen pictures of you at sixteen,” Davey said seriously. “Absolutely not.”

“Your loss. Speaking of making out,” Jack said, eyeing Davey suggestively.

“I have to get back to my sex scandal,” Davey laughed as he pushed Jack away as he leaned in. Jack pouted. “Albert and Elmer are doing bedtime tonight, though. I’ll come find you.”

During the bedtime routine, while everyone was rushing around getting ready for bed, York and Davey pulled Mason and Evan aside to speak with them. “Okay, guys,” Davey started. “What’s going on here?” The two kids glanced at each other, fear evident in their eyes, and shrugged. “You’re not in trouble,” he continued. “But guys. There’s a time and a place, you know? Someone saw you two last night.”

“Conrad…” Evan grumbled.

“Yeah,” York said. “So unless you want him to tell everyone, don’t give him more ammo.”

“Are you going to tell our parents?” Mason asked. He looked absolutely terrified by the thought.

“No,” Davey replied firmly. “That’s not necessary. I am going to move one of you to a different cabin, though. What you’re doing… there’s nothing wrong with it. Really. But camp isn’t an appropriate setting. Do you get it?”

York piped up then. “Yeah. And if you don’t want everyone knowing what’s going on, maybe don’t give each other obvious hickeys like a couple of gay vampires.”

Davey elbowed him, and Evan looked down at the ground, trying his best to conceal a grin.

That night, Race got back to Manhattan after helping Mush’s group with bedtime, but the door to his room was closed with a hat dangling from the doorknob. He sighed and stepped into the other bedroom without knocking. Crutchie and Specs were talking about something and both looked up sharply when Race came in. “What’s up?” Specs asked.

“I’ve been sexiled,” Race explained. “Can I chill in here?”

Crutchie moved over to make room on his bunk. “I’m surprised you’re not off with Spot.” Race made a face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Race said quickly. His leg jiggled, shaking the bed. “I’m not.” Specs and Crutchie watched him curiously. “Don’t worry about it.”

Specs shrugged. “Has Jack talked to you yet? About the inspection?”

“No,” Race replied. “I’ve been helping Mush’s group today. What happened?”

“He has to raise thirty thousand dollars,” Crutchie said. “For repairs and upgrades or whatever.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Specs continued. “We’re trying to come up with fundraising ideas. Crutchie had a great idea.” He smiled toward Crutchie and motioned for him to share his idea.

“Have you seen those camps for adults?” Crutchie asked.

Race raised an eyebrow. “Is this like a nude beach situation or a swingers situation or both?”

“Both,” Crutchie replied seriously. He waited long enough for Race to widen his eyes, looking far more excited about the prospect than he had expected. “No, dumbass. It’s like. Adults come for a weekend and do camp activities and get drunk and shit.”

“Do people actually pay for that?” Race asked.

Specs nodded. “I saw one on Facebook once charging over a thousand dollars. That was a longer one, but still. It pays.”

“We already have all of the equipment,” Crutchie added. “We’d really just have to pay for food and drinks. And we could charge a bunch for drinks.”

“Huh.” Race sat back, already thinking about numbers. “We can get about a hundred people in here. If we charged three hundred bucks, that’s thirty thousand. Plus money from drinks.”

Crutchie nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! And maybe charge extra for extra activities. Like horseback riding or whatever.”

“We could probably use the shelters on the trail I run if people want a more… uh… rustic experience,” Specs added. “That’s at least another ten or fifteen people.”

“What shelters?” Race asked.

“They’re these old three-sided shelters,” Specs explained. “One side is totally open to the elements. They use them a lot on big hiking trails. The camp hasn’t used them in years- I think Drowsy told me once that they stopped using them when the Harlem cabins were built, since they’re so much nicer. But we could clean them up and call them like… the adventure option or something.”

They bounced ideas off of each other for the next hour, which Crutchie wrote down as they talked, until Jack’s door opened and Davey emerged. His hair was significantly messier than usual and the paint speckled on his shirt showed that he was definitely wearing Jack’s shirt. “ Hi, Davey ,” the boys said in unison in sickly sweet voices, waving cheerfully at him.

“Uh. Hi,” Davey replied awkwardly as he attempted to flatten his hair. “Well. Goodnight.”

Race wolf-whistled as he passed, and from the front door, they could hear Davey yell back. “Fuck you!”

“No thanks!” Race hollered.

When Davey was gone, Crutchie yelled toward Jack’s room. “Jackson!”

“Charlemagne!” Jack yelled back.

“Get in here!”

A minute later, Jack stepped in, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants. “Charlemagne- I like that one,” Crutchie said. “Anyway, we’ve been coming up with ideas.”

“For what?”

“For what we’re going to wear tomorrow,” Race quipped before slapping Jack on the knee.

They spent a few minutes laying out the plans that they had come up with, which had expanded to include t-shirts sales, raffles, donations from local businesses and camp alumni, and the opportunity to pay to have a building named after yourself. Jack stared down at the paper that Race handed him, which had lists of ideas and profit projections. “This is… sick,” he said in awe. “You really think people would come?”

Specs nodded. “I think so. Events like this tend to be really popular.

Jack looked at the paper, deep in thought. “We’d need to pay a staff,” he said.

“People would probably volunteer,” Crutchie pointed out.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “But legally, I have to pay people. And we’d probably need some kid of insurance. And I’m guessing a liquor license. But guys, seriously. This is such a cool idea.”

“It was my idea,” Race announced happily.

Crutchie slapped him on the back of the head.

“Davey was going to talk to Blink and York about writing some grants or something to try to get some money,” Jack said. “Because they’re studying English, I guess. But with both of these…” his finger trailed across the edge of the page. “This is really good.”

At the top of Flushing Hill, Albert and Elmer stood watch over the campers as they got ready for bed. The boys were in and out of the bathrooms and showers, popping into each other’s cabins, and a couple of them had even convinced the counselors to let them build a small campfire, as long as they weren’t up too late. Davey trudged up the hill and with a small wave in Albert and Elmer’s direction, stepped into the cabin, where York was reading a book.

“What are you reading now?” Davey asked.

“ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy ,” York replied, without looking up.

“Really?” Davey’s eyebrows raised. “I thought you typically read the classics.”

“I read everything,” York said. “And this is a classic. It helped pave the way for science fiction.”

“Fair enough.” York clearly looked like he was trying to get back to reading, but Davey was feeling a bit obnoxious. That tended to happen after spending time with Jack. It rubbed off on him. “What’s your favorite book?”

York sighed. “ Jurassic Park .”

“Seriously?”

He put a finger in his book, marking the page. “I’m never going to finish this. Yes, seriously. It’s a good book and dinosaurs are cool.”

“Oh. Mine’s The Lord of the Rings .”

York went back to his book. “Okay.

Outside, Albert and Elmer were deeply entrenched in a discussion about conspiracy theories and didn’t notice the two boys sneaking up to the top of the hill toward the observation deck.

Chapter Text

On Friday morning, Jack and Davey approached Blink and York about potentially writing some grant proposals to try to get money for the camp. “I’ve never done anything like that,” Blink said.

“Well, at least you’re mostly literate,” Jack replied. “I’m not sure everyone here is.”

“It’s not too hard,” Davey added. “We can get you guys some guides on how to do it.”

“When would we even do that?” York asked. “Sorry, but I’m not really cool with giving up my breaks.”

“You can schedule in some time,” Jack said. “Will you do it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Most of Friday consisted of packing and cleaning, as it was the day that the campers would go home. After lunch, the Flushing boys brought their bags to Manhattan’s porch at the bottom of the hill and went to work cleaning their cabins. As was the case with the older boys in most situations, all of Friday was much easier than with the younger kids. The staff didn’t have to check up on everything they did, because the boys actually knew how to operate a broom.

They spent time exchanging numbers and social media information, Davey handed back the phones that had been confiscated at various points throughout the week, and Elmer distributed the tie-dye shirts that had been made the day before. While a few of the boys were playing a game of Mafia, Mason took the opportunity to come talk to Davey. “Thanks for everything,” he said.

“Oh,” Davey replied, looking up from the sad attempt at a bracelet that he was struggling with. “Yeah, no problem. Good luck out there, okay?”

“The week’s basically over, right?” Mason asked. Davey nodded. “Can you tell me now if you’re actually dating Jack?”

In response, Davey just winked.

The boys were picked up by their parents fairly quickly, and after a quick check my the counselors to make sure that the cabins and bathrooms were all clean, they headed down to Manhattan for the end of week staff meeting. Their group was the first there, but the others assured over the radio that they would be there soon. Slowly, other staff trickled in, with lifeguards and program staff first, followed by the Woodside staff, then the Harlem staff, and then finally, admin. They crammed onto the couches and chairs with a few guys on the floor, and Jack stood at the front of the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Okay!” he started. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. So, we did it.” He sounded sort of dazed, like he couldn’t believe that they made it through the week with everyone in one piece. “I’m really proud of you guys- you’re the best.”

His demeanor changed, becoming more serious. “You guys know we had that inspection this week. We passed, so you all did great, but they said that the camp needs a lot of repairs and upgrades, and it’s going to cost a lot . We’ve got a few ideas for fundraisers now, but if you can think of any ideas, please let me know.” He thought for a minute. “But, uh… I think that’s it for now. Just make sure you’re back here Sunday by… I don’t know, ten? Yeah. Ten o’clock.” He glanced over at Blink, who as usual, was seated next to Mush. “Meeting officially adjourned, you’re not on duty anymore.”

With that, Blink leapt from the couch. “Party at my place tonight! The theme is PJ PJ. If you’re not there, you’re dead to me.”

The staff dispersed, with Blink and Mush already hopping into the car to speed into town and set up for the party. Davey approached Jack. “PJ PJ?” he asked.

“Party juice and pajamas,” Jack explained. “Just wear your pjs.”

On the other side of the room, Spot cornered Race. “Are you going tonight?” he asked.

“Yes,” Race replied tersely.

“Do you want to ride together?”

“No.”

Spot reached out, putting a hand on Race’s shoulder, which Race quickly shrugged off. “Are you seriously not even going to talk to me?” he asked.

“I talked.” Race moved to get past Spot, but Spot shifted just in time to block him.

“If you’re just never going to say more than two words to me again, maybe we should just break up.”

Race stared down at Spot, conflicted but furious. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead shook his head and pushed past Spot, heading to the door. A few moments later, a car door slammed and Race’s car sped out of the parking area.

“You okay?” Davey asked Spot.

“Maybe don’t eavesdrop,” he grumbled.

“It’s not eavesdropping. I just have ears.”

“Whatever,” Spot said, before also walking out.

Jack and Davey exchanged a glance. “Wasn’t Race our ride?” Jack asked.

“Do you guys need a ride?” Specs asked, emerging from his room with Crutchie. “I was going to give Crutchie a ride.”

And so, they found themselves in Specs’ car which, despite being several years old, still smelled like a brand new car. They all took the time to change into their pajamas before leaving, and Specs drove painfully slow, so by the time they stopped at a Five Guys, all four of them were starving. They ordered way too much food and, with their milkshakes, toasted the success of their first week.

“Davey’s group had a sex scandal,” Jack announced proudly. Davey elbowed him in the ribs.

Crutchie and Specs burst out laughing. “I was part of those once when I was a camper,” Specs said. He glanced over at Jack.

Davey looked between the two of them before zeroing in on Specs. “Was it you ?” he asked. He turned to Jack. “Was it Specs ?”

Specs grinned. “Don’t be too jealous, Davey,” Jack replied with his mouthful after shoving several fries into his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Davey said. “I’m not.”

“If it helps, he was a really bad kisser,” Specs added.

Jack swallowed indignantly. “I was not!” He turned to Davey. “Tell him I’m not!”

Davey shrugged. “If the shoe fits…”

“No! I am a great kisser! I will take any one of you out to the car and kiss you right now to prove it.”

Davey shook his head. “Maybe just do that with me. I don’t think you need to subject these guys to that.”

After a long dinner, a trip to Target, and a stop by a convenience store for beer and Cheetos, all the while wearing their pajamas, they finally made it to Blink’s house, which he rented with several friends from school. It had been the camp party house for years, since Blink lived pretty nearby and his house was fairly large and he didn’t have parents there to stop them. “Yoooo,” Mush said as he passed them after entering, carrying a large, heavy looking cooler. He was wearing a bubblegum pink Care Bears onesie. Blink, across the room and breaking open a bag of ice, had a matching blue one. A lot of the Mountain Ridge guys, as well as several Willow Lake girls, along with Blink’s roommates, were already there, and a few more cars had been pulling in behind Jack and Davey.

Sarah was already there, with Katherine by her side. She ran to Davey and grabbed him in a hug. “My baby brother!” she yelled. Sarah had always been a lightweight. Race was there, dealing a group of people into a game of Smoke and Fire, and Spot was playing beer pong with Hot Shot, JoJo, and Boots. Race was Spot’s usual pong partner, and they had a system work out. Race was an excellent shot, but Spot was not. Race took all of the shots while Spot trash talked the opponent. Now, though, Hot Shot was taking most of the shots and, as seemed to be the case a lot of the time with him, he was all talk, and he and Spot were being absolutely crushed.

Jack grabbed Davey a drink- blue Gatorade mixed with Everclear from the cooler that Mush had been carrying earlier- and they sat down with Kath and Sarah. The drinks were disgusting, but got better as they went on. Sarah rested her head on Davey’s shoulder as Kath told an animated story about a few of the Willow Lake campers, who had tried to canoe to town. They kept trying to paddle away from the dock, but had forgotten to untie the canoe, so they made absolutely no progress before a counselor found them.

As Davey got drunker, he also got louder, and attempted several times to pick arguments with other people at the party. After trying to debate the afterlife with Elmer, Jack dragged Davey outside. “Time for you to take a break,” he said with a laugh. Blink, York, and Mush were out on the deck passing a joint between themselves and cracking up at a joke that Jack and Davey had just missed.

Jack led Davey out to the grass, where they sat down facing the treeline. Davey grabbed for Jack’s hand before reaching up to stroke his hair. “Jack. Jack. Jacky .”

“What?”

Davey released Jack’s hair before falling back onto the grass so that he was lying down. “Jack, I’m so gay.”

Jack smiled at his knees. “Yeah, Dave. I know you are.”

“I’m so gay.” Davey sat back up quickly, using Jack’s shoulder as a support to pull himself back up and almost dragging Jack down to the grass. “Jack. I have to ask you something serious.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like me more than Specs? Or Katherine or… oh, my god. My sister. Do you like me more than Sarah ?”

Jack leaned in and kissed Davey softly. He pulled away just a couple of centimeters. “I’m ridiculously in love with you, Davey. None of them ever came close.”

Davey pulled back, smiling stupidly before flopping back down onto the ground. “I’m so gay !”

Inside, Spot walked past Race, trying to ignore him, but Race grabbed him by the back of the shirt, pulling him over. “Yeah?” Spot asked.

“I’m mad at you,” Race said simply.

“...Okay?”

“Yeah,” Race continued. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Spot shook his head. “You dragged me over here, dumbass.”

“I don’t care, dick. That was really shitty, what you said.” Spot didn’t say anything. “You know what’s been going on with my mom dying and everything and you just think I’m trying to be fucking cool ?”

“She had lung cancer ,” Spot protested. “You know what smoking gives you? Lung cancer!”

“That’s my business,” Race said loudly, nearly yelling.

“No,” Spot argued. “It’s both of our business because I fucking love you and I don’t want you to die because you’re being an idiot! It’s always something with you! Smoking, wrecking your car, cracking your head open in the pool… You’re not going to live past thirty at your rate and I don’t want to think about that! Okay?”

Race crossed his arms, but he seemed to be cooling down a bit. “You’re not my babysitter.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend, idiot.”

“Say you’re sorry,” Race demanded.

“What?”

“Say. You’re. Sorry.”

Spot looked around the room in frustration before throwing his hands up. “Fine! I’m sorry for trying to help you stay alive.”

Race shook his head. “Bad apology. Try again.”

It took Spot a minute. He wasn’t accustomed to apologies, and he was suddenly aware that Buttons, Sniper, and Tommy Boy were standing only a few feet away. They had gone quiet and were very obviously listening in. Spot motioned for Race to follow him and led him outside, past Mush, Blink, and York, and past Jack and Davey, who were now making out in the grass. They went right up to the treeline at the back of the yard before Spot turned to face Race, who was waiting expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Spot finally said in a gruff voice. “I know you’re not trying to be cool. That was shitty. And I miss you.” Race thought for several moments before nodding slowly. He reached his arms out and Spot pulled him in for a tight hug.

The next thing they heard were loud police sirens and a stampede of feet as the younger counselors there made a dash for the woods behind the house.

Chapter Text

“Shit, shit, shit,” Blink said as he frantically snubbed out the joint that they had been passing around.

Mush grabbed the ashtray and motioned for Blink and York to follow him. The three of them rushed to some dense bushes, hiding behind them. Branches tugged at their clothes, but they sat down on the hard-packed ground, unable to see out. “I don’t think they can see us,” Blink said breathlessly. The three of them sat quietly for a moment, blue lights off in the distance dancing in the air. They waited, but after a moment, York clapped a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. Mush shot him a look, but after seeing how hard York was trying to keep from laughing, he also cracked a grin and soon, the three of them were silently wheezing with laughter behind the bush.

A few yards away, Davey jolted, preparing to launch to his feet, but Jack grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back down. “You’re old enough to be drinking,” he said. “Running might just get you in trouble. Got your ID?” Davey nodded. “Okay. Just chill.” Spot and Race wandered over to sit with them. All four of them were tense- Race’s fingers were drumming erratically against Spot’s knee and Jack’s leg was bouncing of its own accord.

In the woods, Elmer, Albert, Bumlets, Itey, and Smalls crouched together in the shadows behind some trees. They could hear other partygoers waiting with bated breath, as well, but everyone stayed quiet. A lot of the underage people had gotten out, but looking around, there were a few missing. “I could have stayed,” Albert hissed to Smalls. “I’ve got my fake.”

“Your fake sucks,” Smalls whispered back. “It says you’re twenty-nine. Now shut up .”

One of Blink’s roommates quickly turned off the loud music that had been playing, while the other one waited nervously at the door. Katherine appeared at her side. “Go out front,” she said. “On the porch.” The roommate looked at her like she was crazy. “I’m serious. I’ll do most of the talking.”

They slipped outside, where two cops were getting out of the car. The sirens had been switched off, but the blue lights were still flashing. “Hi,” Katherine called. “Sorry, were we a bit too loud?”

Inside, Sarah went around closing all of the blinds while several people made their way upstairs to the bedrooms.

One of the cops shined a flashlight around the yard. “Do you live here?” the other one asked Katherine.

“No,” she replied. “But my friend here does.”

“Mind if we come in and have a look around?” The way he said it implied that he wasn’t asking for permission, but telling them that they would be coming in.

Blink’s roommate froze, but Katherine shook her head. “Until I see a warrant, we do not consent to a search.”

The cop glared at her. “Maybe leave that up to the resident.” His focus shifted to the girl next to Katherine.

She was silent for a few moments, before also shaking her head. “I don’t consent to a search.”

The other cop continued shining his flashlight into bushes, peering through to try to find anyone there. “Hey!” Katherine called. “We didn’t consent to a search. That includes yards.” Reluctantly, the policeman turned his light off and shuffled back to his partner. They were stuck, caught by the fourth amendment.

“Well,” the cop who had done most of the talking said. “Keep it down. And just be warned- we’re patrolling this area and if we catch anyone drinking and driving, they will be charged to the full extent of the law.”

“Noted,” Katherine replied. “We’ll turn the music down.”

Soon after, the police left. Blink’s roommate turned to Katherine, face awash with relief. “Oh my god, thank you so much,” she said, on the brink of tears. “I was just going to let them in.”

“They’ve got to have a warrant,” Katherine said kindly. “Come on, let’s go back in.”

Back in the backyard, Blink, Mush, and York watched as the blue lights faded. “Did they leave?” Mush asked quietly.

“I think so,” Blink replied. He crept forward and stuck his head out of the bush. “I don’t see anything.” They waited in silence for a few minutes to make sure, and a police siren quipped once off in the distance. “They’ve moved on.”

“Well,” Mush sighed as he threw his head back. Between the fence and the bush, the stars shone brightly down on them. “At least it’s a nice night.

“In our village, folks say God crumbles up the old moon into stars,” York said quietly.

Mush turned to face him, expression blank. “What.”

“Okay, Solzhenitsyn,” Blink said, rolling his eye.

“Hey, you got it!” York replied with a grin. “I just like that line.”

“I’m lost,” Mush said. He swatted at a mosquito on his knee. “Also, I’m getting eaten alive. Let’s get out of here.”

A few hours later, designated drivers had taken people home, a few people had called Ubers, and others were camping out at Blink’s on the couches or many, many air mattresses that they had amassed over the years. The sleeping arrangements were sort of decided by what spaces were open. The couples were quick to claim air mattresses and everyone else had to find buddies to share with. A few people stayed upstairs talking, but everyone else retreated to the basement.

York stood awkwardly at the base of the stairs, looking for a spot to sleep. He didn’t like to sleep after smoking- it gave him weird dreams- so he waited outside for a while for the high to wear off and by the time he came inside, most of the spaces were claimed. Specs, Crutchie, JoJo, and Boots had claimed the couches upstairs. Downstairs, Jack and Davey were already asleep, cuddled up on a twin mattress. Nearby, Spot and Race were in the same situation. There was room next to Sniper and Buttons, who York had talked to only a couple of times, and a spot next to a Willow Lake girl, which was out of the question.

“ Psst ,” someone hissed from across the room, and he squinted in the darkness, which had always been a weakness of his, to see Blink there on a large mattress with Mush, motioning to an empty place. York carefully picked his way across the room, nearly stepping on Albert’s arm, which was sprawled across the small walkway, to the mattress, where he awkwardly laid down on the edge.

Mush was already asleep, snoring lightly, and Blink looked extremely tired. His eyepatch was off, and York could see that he actually did have two eyes. The one that was usually covered was cloudy and heavy-lidded, but it was there, which was more than he could say. “What happened to your eye?” York whispered.

Blink glanced around, making sure that no one was listening, before leaning in to whisper in York’s ear. “I was born blind in that eye, but with severe light sensitivity. That’s it. You tell anyone, you die.” York mimed zipping his lips. “What about you?”

He took off his eyepatch, exposing a brown eye, identical in shade to the other, but slightly off. It moved more slowly, and York’s real pupil was dilated from the darkness, while the other stayed relatively small. “I had to have an eye surgery when I was little and it got infected so they just took it out.”

“Why do you wear a patch?”

“People stare less,” York replied, looking at the ceiling. “If you’re got an eyepatch, people just kind of accept it and move on. If something just looks kind of off, they keep staring until they figure out that it’s fake. I don’t like that much eye contact.”

“Fair enough.”

“You tell anyone,” York said seriously. “You die.”

In the morning, Mush woke Blink up as he dragged himself out of bed to meet up with Specs and JoJo for their morning run. “Go back to sleep,” Mush whispered as Blink groggily opened his eyes.

“You go… back to… the store,” Blink mumbled before immediately passing out again.

Upstairs, JoJo was by the sink, chugging a massive glass of water while Specs ate a piece of bread, looking a bit green. “You guys ready?” Mush asked.

“Let’s get this over with before my hangover kicks in,” JoJo replied.

“Too late,” Specs grumbled.

They slipped out the door, being careful not to wake Crutchie and Boots, who were still asleep, battling it out for loudest snorer. Mush had taken Blink’s keys- he knew Blink wouldn’t even be awake yet by the time they got back- and locked the door to the house behind them. They made their way down the street, slower than usual, feet hitting the pavement as they ran down the middle of the road in a line. There were no cars- it was a quiet street and it was far too early for anyone to be out and about on a Saturday. A couple of Willow Lake girls who had stayed the night caught up with them before they made it to the corner, and the five of them ran in silence until arriving at a small park a couple of miles away, where they agreed to take a break.

Sitting on swings or the tops of slides, they drank water and talked, more reserved than usual. None of them were really feeling up to much conversation. “What’s the deal with you and Crutchie?” JoJo asked Specs, zeroing in on him. JoJo seemed to feel better than the rest of them did, but he complained that the nausea was starting to creep on.

“What deal?” Specs asked. He felt the world spin and got out of the swing he was sitting on, choosing the ground instead. More stable.

“You know,” JoJo goaded. “Your deal . What’s up with you two?”

The girls turned to each other and started talking about gossip at their own camp, uninterested in Mountain Ridge issues. “Nothing’s up with us,” Specs replied. JoJo stared at him in disbelief. “I’m serious!”

“Uh- huh ,” JoJo replied skeptically, long and drawn out. He jumped off of the swing that he had been swinging on, stumbling a bit on the landing. “Do you guys think we can make it to Denny’s? I need grease, ASAP.”

Back at the house, York carefully extracted himself from under Blink’s arm, where he had somehow found himself upon waking up. He moved slowly, trying not to jostle the air mattress, and glanced back just as Blink shifted, spreading out and taking up the entire bed. York fitted his eye patch over his face and started up the stairs.

Davey was already up, sitting out on the porch with his head in his hands. “Morning,” York said. “You good?” Davey just shook his head, brown hair flopping over his fingers. “Are you alive?” Again, Davey shook his head. “You should go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“I can’t sleep when I’m hungover,” Davey said in a grumpy voice. It came out muffled from his hands. “Anyway, I’m dying. I don’t have a will but make sure Les gets my snake and Sarah gets my computer and tell Jack that he better not use any nude portraits as my funeral picture.”

“You posed for nude portraits?” York asked in surprise.

“No,” Davey replied. “But he’d probably paint one for the occasion.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, York.”

“Yeah?” York looked up from the computer at which he was furiously typing, working on a grant proposal. Blink was staring at the other computer with a disgruntled expression.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor.”

“Kill me.”

They had been working every day on these proposals, which were turning into a whole lot more work than they expected. There was research involved, and math, and logistics- and that didn’t even take into account the writing and editing. “Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence.” They had picked this game up since the party. York would quote something from his dizzying vault of literary quotes and Blink would try to guess.

“Uh…” Blink leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “Give me a hint.”

“Gay,” York replied simply.

“Wilde.” York nodded. “Seriously, how do you know all of these?”

“I like reading,” York replied with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Blink said. “So do I, but that’s ridiculous.”

York took a quick look at his watch. “I’ve got to get back,” he said. “Are the profit projections done?”

“Almost,” Blink replied as he saved the file that he was working on. “I’m at a good stopping point for now.” Backpacks were slung over shoulders and they locked admin on the way out and started down the camp road toward their respective groups. The Woodside staff had been blessed with the high school boys, and the Flushing guys had middle school.

“What’s your group doing?” Blink asked.

“Ice cream in a bag,” York replied unenthusiastically.

Blink threw his hands up in defeat. “You don’t even like ice cream ? Why do I even talk to you?”

“You only like me for my eyepatch and Oscar Wilde quotes.”

On Wednesday night, Jack waited for Davey at the bottom of Flushing Hill. “We got the go-ahead,” he said excitedly. “Well, tentative go-ahead.”

“For what?”

“The camp!” Jack said. “For adults!” He led Davey down to the lake, where they took a seat on the dock. “It’s like, we still have to get all this shit before they officially approve it. Insurance, talking to a lawyer, liquor license, all that. But Ted thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Jack, that’s great!” Davey swung his leg over the side of the dock, almost close enough to touch the water with his foot, but not quite. “People love this place. They’ll come. And York says that the grant proposals are coming along well.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, no,” Davey replied with a shrug. “He said that he wants to die every time he works on them and each moment of progress is two moments closer to his demise, but I read between the lines.”

“Of course.”

They sat outside talking for a while longer, until Davey heard loud crying from the top of Flushing Hill. It sounded like a kid named Teddy, who had been to Mountain Ridge the summer before, but seemed to have forgotten any of his bravery during the off season. “I’ve got to go,” Davey said. “Get some sleep.” Jack walked with him back to the base of the hill before they turned and went their separate ways- Jack to Manhattan and Davey up the hill.

Inside the cabin, Race and Crutchie were sprawled out across the couches, Race quickly solving and unsolving a Rubik’s cube while Crutchie hung upside down, weaving a lanyard. “What’s up?” Jack asked before roughly shoving Race to the side to make room. Race kicked at him, but Jack grabbed his foot just in time. There was a quick but brutal struggle, which resulted in Race pouting as he moved over to let Jack sit.

“I was hoping you’d get back before Specs did,” Race said.

“Why?” Crutchie asked, jerking his face, red from being upside down, to stare at Race.

“Where’s Specs?” Jack asked.

Crutchie was quick to answer. “He’s down at Harlem with Mush.”

Race smirked. “Right. That brings us to our topic. Young master Crutch is interested in wooing Spectacles.”

Jack turned to Crutchie, devious grin forming on his face. “No,” Crutchie said, shaking his head quickly. “I don’t want to woo- don’t look at me like that, Kelly. I don’t want to woo Specs. Or whatever. I’m not into him.”

“The two of you have been seeing a lot of each other lately,” Jack commented wryly.

“We’re roommates .”

“Oh god, they were roommates,” Jack and Race said simultaneously, before cracking up.

“Man, fuck you guys,” Crutchie replied, sitting upright. His normally messy hair was in even more disarray from the gravity.

Before Race or Jack could tease Crutchie more, all three of their radios went off at once, creating a cacophony of sound. Crutchie and Race quickly turned their volume down so only one voice was talking. “Finch to Jack?”

“This is Jack, go ahead.”

“Uh, there’s a code yellow in Queens.” There was a note of slight panic in Finch’s voice.

Jack glanced at Crutchie and Race, who wore matching expressions of pure glee. “What kind of code yellow?” he asked. “Just like… give me a size.”

There was a bit of a pause, before Finch’s voice crackled back through. “It’s Patricia.”

All three of them yelled. “ Patricia !” Jack turned to his friends. “Boys, suit up.” He hit the call button again. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. You guys can come up to Manhattan for the night. We’ve got some extra bunks.”

As quickly as possible, they dressed in their war gear- long pants and shirts, hiking boots, and bandanas tied around their forehead. On the way out, Race ran into the supply closet and came back with three snorkeling masks, which they all donned happily. As soon as they were in the golf cart, Jack threw it into reverse, backed out of his parking space, and drove as quickly as the poor little golf cart could go down the road. On the way, they ran into the equestrian staff, who were heading toward Manhattan carrying pillows and, inexplicably, pots and, in Finch’s case, a metal colander. Jack slowed to a stop next to them, and the equestrian staff started handing the kitchen gear over.

“She’s in the ceiling,” Finch said. “We were using these as helmets.”

“How are we supposed to get her out of the ceiling?” Crutchie asked.

“A hole opened up,” Bumlets replied. “We’ve been throwing Cheetos to try to draw her out.”

“Good work, Sir Bumlets,” Jack said regally. “Your bravery has not gone unnoticed.” He saluted and, after donning the large pot that Skittery handed him, hit the gas on the cart, speeding slowly to Queens.

The cabin door was opened, as well as all of the windows, and moths and other bugs had gotten in, but those were the least of their worries. Armed with the weapons that they were able to grab before leaving Manhattan (a lacrosse stick, half of a kayak paddle, and a cane), they krept inside, watching the perimeter of the large cabin, including the ceiling, carefully.

Patricia had been a thorn in their sides the summer before. She was a large, old raccoon with a knack for sneaking into buildings without notice. It would not be the first time that she took up residence inside camp property.

Race picked up the half empty bag of Cheetos that were on the floor by the door. Experimentally, he tossed one out, right under the hole in the ceiling where the wood had rotten through. It exposed insulation, but didn’t leave the cabin open to the elements. Jack and Crutchie stood on the bunks, weapons at the ready, prepared to attack at a moment’s notice. “Patricia,” Race called softly. “Come on out. There’s a nice Cheeto out here, just for you. You can have the whole fucking bag.”

“Language,” Crutchie hissed. “She’s a fucking lady.”

“Forgive me, Patricia,” Race apologized.

They waited, but Patricia didn’t come. They didn’t even hear her. Experimentally, Jack took his kayak paddle and thumped it against the ceiling near the hole. After three taps, he paused and the three boys listened carefully. There was definitely something up there, skittering away from the sound. It seemed to move toward the hole, and Race nodded enthusiastically. “Do that again,” he said. As he did so, he backed up and hopped onto the countertop at the back of the room, crouching there out of Patricia’s reach.

Jack hit the ceiling a couple of more times, this time moving closer to the hole. There were more quick footsteps, which again, stopped. Again, he hit the ceiling. This time, a raccoon erupted from the hole in the ceiling, seeming to fly down to the floor there. She landed gracefully, going into immediate defense mode upon hitting the ground. Jack and Crutchie were suddenly hyperaware of how close they were to this wild raccoon and backed up, retreating deeper into their bunks.

Race silently withdrew a Cheeto, which he tossed onto the floor, just in front of her. She sniffed the air warily while the boys stood completely still. At one point, Race let out a tiny bit of gas and she focused immediately on him. Jack and Crutchie threw their hands up in the air. Race didn’t move, though, and soon, Patricia focused on the Cheeto on the floor again. She took a few steps forward and carefully picked it up, chewing as quickly as she could without making too much noise.

Race threw another one, this time closer to the open door. She was less hesitant this time and moved toward it, angling her body so that she could still see the three humans in the room. Minutes passed by, with Patricia getting more and more bold as she moved away from the humans and closer to the door until she was nearly to the threshold. They waited with bated breath, but Patricia didn’t leave. She stood frozen in place, watching them.

It felt like the beginning of an old Western shoot-out, where the cowboy with the white hat and the cowboy with the black hat stand at either end of a dusty, deserted street, hands on their holsters, waiting to see who would draw first. “ Yahhh !” Crutchie yelled without warning, startling everyone in the cabin, including Patricia, who turned and bolted out the door. Race leapt from the counter and slammed the door shut while Jack ran around closing the windows. After he finished, he grabbed Crutchie into a tight hug, swinging him off of the bunk and onto the ground as he did so.

“Men,” Race started, voice full of bravado. “My brothers. We’ve won.”

“Huzzah!” Jack yelled. He glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, which showed signs of rotting in several other places. “I guess I’ll add that to the list of repairs,” he said, mood dampening slightly.

Race and Crutchie wouldn’t let him lose the glow of a hard-earned win, though, and the entire drive back to Manhattan, they kept up a loud and steady cheer. “I’m guessing you got her,” someone said through the radio. It sounded sort of like Specs.

“The foe has been banished,” Crutchie replied into Jack’s radio.

“May she rest in peace,” someone else, who sounded like Blink, or possibly JoJo, said.

“She’s not dead,” another voice, unmistakably Davey, quipped. The radio almost immediately came back to life. “She’s not dead, right?”

“I wouldn’t destroy such a valiant foe,” Jack replied, taking the radio from Crutchie.

Chapter Text

“I think… I’m done.” Blink leaned back in the computer chair at the admin building that he had claimed as his own, stretching his fingers out. A shared Google Doc was open in front of him, and York scrolled down on the document on his computer, reading through the last of what Blink had written.

“Holy shit, are we finally free?” York asked, feeling as if it was too good to be true. He and Blink had been working on the grant proposals that they would submit for camp funding with every minute that they had to spare, and it was awful, grueling work. Neither of them were suited for grant writing and half of their time was just spent researching how grants even work. “Want me to print a copy off to show Jack?” Blink nodded enthusiastically.

He reached for a piece of candy from the counter as a reward and grabbed one for York, but York shook his head, making a face. “Oh, right. You don’t like sugar. Freak.”

York set the document up to print and got up from his chair, walking across the hall to the small room where the printer was housed. After a few minutes, he yelled back for Blink. “Do you know how to change the paper? I can’t find the tray.”

Blink pushed away from the desk and rolled his way across the hall. His ankle was slightly sore from a slight twist, but he was milking it for all it was worth. Trying to get through the door was awkward, and York stared at him judgmentally as he banged into the doorway. He knocked a doorstop out of position and the door slammed shut behind him, making them both wince.

“Are you done yet?” York asked dryly.

“Almost,” he replied. “Excuse me, sir.” Blink scooted past York to the printer, where he pulled out a hidden tray and added a small stack of paper. The printer whirred to life and ran off two copies of the grant proposal that they had spent so much time on. For a moment, they flipped through the papers fondly, like new parents, before York stapled them together and signed his name at the bottom of the last page with a large flourish. Blink did the same.

“Alright,” York said as he pushed past Blink to the door. “I’ve got to get back now.” He reached for the handle and turned. Or rather, he tried to turn- no matter how much he jostled it, the handle wouldn’t budge. “Blink,” he said slowly. “Did you lock the door?”

Blink looked up from a couple of paper clips that he had been working into a chain. “What? No.” He stood up from the chair, walking perfectly fine, and went to stand next to York. Blink reached out and tried the handle but like York said, it wouldn’t move. “...Well,” he said. “Where’s your radio?”

“I don’t have a radio,” York replied. “Where’s your radio?”

“On my backpack.”

“So call Jack!”

“My backpack is out there, dummy,” Blink said, gesturing at the door in the direction of the office. He slid to the floor, leaning his back against the door. “I guess we’re stuck until someone comes up here.”

“Well, shit,” York replied as he slid down next to Blink. They said in silence for all of three seconds before Blink snorted. York turned his head to look at him and Blink’s face was beginning to turn red from the effort of holding in his laughter. York watched him for a second until a giggle that sounded almost like a horse escaped from Blink, which set the two of them into a fit of laughter that neither of them could control. It didn’t take long before York was doubled over, clutching his stomach and trying to catch his breath between laughs and Blink was in the fetal position on the floor, yelling that he was going to pee himself. York managed to rattle off a quote in between gasps. “We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.”

“Tennessee Williams!” Blink yelled victoriously.

After they composed themselves, Blink got up and started examining the printer. “Hey, this is a fax machine! We could send a fax!”

York shook his head. “First of all,” he said, holding up a single finger, “Do you even know how to send a fax?” He held up another finger. “Second of all, who the fuck is going to get a fax here?”

An hour of their imprisonment passed. Then a second. Then a third. Blink and York entertained themselves by using spare paper to make paper footballs and origami and cootie catchers. “Do you think Jack’s going to come back up here at all tonight?” Blink finally asked around ten o’clock.

“I doubt it,” York replied. “I think we just live here now.” Luckily, neither of them had bedtime duty, but their co-counselors had to be wondering where they were. His stomach took that moment to grumble loudly.

“I dare you to eat a piece of paper,” Blink said, waving a sheet of blank white paper at York. York rolled his eyes before wrenching the paper from Blink’s grasp. He ripped off a large piece of paper and chewed slowly and deliberately before swallowing. Blink stared at him, dumbfounded. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

“Come on, like you’ve never eaten paper before,” York said.

As the night wore on, the boys grew tired. They were accustomed to going to bed fairly early and waking up extremely early at camp, and hadn’t exactly planned on a long night. It took a while to clear out a big enough space on the floor for both of them to lay down- Blink bringing an office chair in definitely hadn’t helped things, but soon they cleared a big enough space for both of them to sleep, but it would definitely be an uncomfortable night.

As they tried to drift off, they talked, first about their favorite books, then favorite classes, and then on to life itself. “I don’t know,” York was saying. “I’d like to travel sometime but I’m more focused on saving up so I can really properly start my life up after graduation, you know?”

“I don’t really care about starting my life up,” Blink countered. “I’d rather get out there, and if that means sleeping in nasty hostels, then oh well.” He rolled onto his side to face York. They had turned the lights off and without that light, Blink took his patch off, with York following suit. “I want to go to France ,” Blink sighed.

“Been there,” York replied. “I could do without most of it. The catacombs in Paris are pretty cool.”

“You’ve been to France?” Blink asked.

“Military brat, remember?”

“Huh.” Blink laid back. “I really don’t know you that well, do I?”

“I’m a tough nut to crack,” York quipped.

“Do you have siblings?” Blink asked randomly.

“A half-brother,” York replied. “He’s a lot older than me, though. You?”

“Only child. Are your parents still together?”

“Yeah. Yours?”

Blink shook his head in the dark. “Nah, they never got married to begin with. Ya boy was the product of a casual hookup.”

“You must be so proud.”

Blink laughed. “Oh, so proud. Any pets?”

“I have a gecko.”

“Wait, what? Who just has a gecko?”

“Lots of people,” York replied. “They’re great pets. What about you?”

“My mom has a cat.” Blink could see York make a face in the dim green glow from the various LEDs glowing from the electronics in the room. “What? Do you not like cats?”

“I’m allergic.”

“So, you’re allergic to carrots and cats. How do you live? What else are you allergic to?”

York thought for a moment, recalling his long list of allergies. “Uh, penicillin, latex, tree nuts, certain types of grass, dill…”

“How do you even go out in the world?”

“I am heavily medicated,” York laughed. “What are you scared of?” he asked, shifting the subject away from his ailments.

Blink exhaled in a loud huff. “Uh, bees. Tight spaces.” His voice lowered after a brief pause, dropping into a slightly sleepy, low voice. “Going blind.”

“Are you okay in here?” York asked, subtly shifting to the side to give Blink more room.

“I don’t really mind this so much,” Blink said thoughtfully. There was a moment of heavy silence between them before Blink jumped back into his questioning. “Do you have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, I guess.”

“It’d be a boyfriend,” York said quickly. “But no. You?”

“Could be a boyfriend, could be a girlfriend, could be whatever,” he said. “But nah.”

“Not even Mush?” York teased.

Blink laughed. “No way! Mush-o’s my brother, man.”

“I was just checking!” York said defensively.

“You never said what you’re scared of.”

“You didn’t ask,” York shot back. “But uh, the dark, I guess.”

“Are you okay in here?” Blink asked, echoing York from before.

“I don’t really mind this so much.” There was a long silence- long enough that Blink thought that maybe York had drifted off, before his voice cut through the darkness again. “It’s not so much the dark dark, you know? It partly is. But yeah, I think part of it’s going blind, like you said. You can still see light, right?”

“Yeah,” Blink said. “It sucks.”

“I can’t see light. It’s just all nothing on that side.”

“Is York your real name?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing Blink isn’t yours.”

“It’s Steffan,” Blink replied.

“Well, goodnight, Steffan.”

Early the next morning, a sound outside the little room roused York from what had been a restless night’s sleep. Just after he fell asleep, York felt Blink drape his hoodie over York’s shoulder after a while of him shivering. It was still there, and Blink’s face was inches from York’s breathing softly as he slept. “Wake up,” York said, nudging him softly. It took a moment, but Blink’s eyes drifted open, drooping eyelid hanging heavily over his bad eye. “I think Jack’s here.”

They started to bang on the door, calling for Jack, before the door opened. Blink winced at the light and York passed him his eyepatch. Jack stood there in the doorway with a smirk. “You know, if you two wanted some time alone together, there are way better places to do it than in here.”

“Shut up,” York said while Blink shoved their grant into Jack’s hands. “The door locked.”

“It’ll do that,” Jack said wryly. “Get on down to breakfast. They should be coming up soon. I’ll meet y’all there.”

Blink and York sleepily walked down the long hill toward the dining hall. About halfway down, York handed Blink the hoodie. It was a surprisingly cold morning after a late night rain left the air heavy with fog and dew. “Hang onto it for now,” Blink said, pushing it back toward York, who pulled it on.

The hoodie was purple and too long for York, who was quite a bit shorter than Blink, who towered over most of the staff. “Thanks.”

Ten minutes later in the dining hall, Jack nudged Davey when Davey came through the kitchen looking for a bottle of ketchup for one of his kids, who liked it on his eggs. “Look who’s doing the camp walk of shame.”

Davey followed his glance toward York, who was sitting next to Blink and wearing what was unmistakably one of Blink’s hoodies. “So, that’s where he went. Very interesting.”

“I told you I’d get you hooked on camp gossip.”

“Nevermind,” Davey replied, shoving past Jack. “I’m not remotely interested. Get out of my face. I have to feed a child with disgusting taste.” Jack let him by, but not before giving Davey a quick slap on the ass on the way by. Davey turned back, staring daggers at Jack, before winking and going back to his table.

Chapter Text

The week passed quickly, like a blur. By Friday afternoon, everyone was exhausted from a whirlwind week, but there hadn’t been any major emergencies. Jack went up to admin after breakfast with Specs and Race to prepare for check-out. They had to organize all of the paperwork, medications, and confiscated items. Parents had to show ID and sign their kid out before going down to the cabins and while their system was easy enough to execute, it did take a while to get everything matched to the right kid.

“Do you have Carter Roswell’s inhaler?” Specs asked, combing through a file.

“Got it,” Race replied from his spot on the floor next to a plastic tub full of medications. He tossed the inhaler to Specs. “Do you have Michael Prescott’s file yet?”

There was some shuffling of papers while they looked for it. “Got it,” Jack said finally, holding the form out. “I had it filed under M instead of P.” This passing of information continued for a while until the phone rang. Jack got up and jumped over the counter to grab it. “Mountain Ridge, this is Jack”

“Hi, Jack. Do you have a moment to talk?” The unmistakable voice of Judith Humphrey was on the other end of the line. Judith (never Judy. Jack felt his soul drop ten degrees from the look she gave him when he called her Judy) was in charge of finances for the camp.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check in and see how your fundraising efforts are going. How much have you raised so far?”

Jack hesitated. “I mean, none yet . But we’ve got some plans. We’re putting the final touches on some grant proposals and working on getting a liquor license for the adult camp.”

There was a long silence on the edge of the phone before Judith spoke again, a slight sigh hanging behind her words. “Jack, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this. If you don’t come up with all of the funds by August, it won’t just be your job on the line- it’ll be the entire camp on the line.”

“I understand,” Jack promised.

“I need to see that you’re taking this seriously. Let’s say… within thirty days, I want to see… I don’t know, let’s call it five thousand dollars raised. Can you do that?”

“I-” Jack paused. He could see Specs and Race watching him warily. “I mean, I guess I’ll have to. I’ll make it work.”

“Please do. Have a good weekend, Jack.”

“You too.” He placed the phone on the receiver and sat back, feeling like the wind had just been struck out of him.

At the art hut, Crutchie limped around the building, supporting himself on the many counters and tables in the room. Mush’s group of little monsters had swept through like a tornado, and although Mush made the kids clean up, little kids are terrible at cleaning, so there was still spilled wax coating the tables from their candle-making session. With a sigh, he grabbed a butter knife and took a seat in one of the tiny chairs at a table and set to work scraping the wax from the table. He hummed as he worked, which eventually made its way into words and before long, he was singing loudly as he scraped to the tempo of the song.

“Christmas music already?” someone said from behind him.

Crutchie jumped, immediately stopping his rendition of Feliz Navidad, and spun around to see Finch there. “Shit, you just gave me a heart attack,” Crutchie said. “How are you always so quiet?”

“Natural gift,” Finch replied with a shrug. “I finished up with the barn and thought I’d come see if you needed help cleaning in here.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Crutchie said awkwardly.

“I mean, I kind of do. It’s sort of my job.”

“Oh. Right.”

Finch pointed at the butter knife that Crutchie was using. “Got any more of those?” he asked.

“They’re in the wash. There should be a screwdriver in the supply closet.”

Finch ducked into the supply closet and came back a moment later carrying a flat-head screwdriver. He took a seat at a different table and started scraping away at the hardened wax. “This is a pain in the ass.”

“Tell me about it,” Crutchie sighed. He swept a pile of wax shavings into a small trash can and scooted over to a different side of the table to tackle the mess there. “I really hate candle days.” The overhead light flickered out and they both looked upward. “Hang on a minute.” He pushed himself to his feet and limped toward the breaker box at the back of the room.

“You have to reset the breaker?” Finch asked.

“Worse,” Crutchie replied. He wiggled the edges of the box until it popped loose, exposing a tangle of wires in the wall. Using a rubber pot holder, he jostled the wires until the lights flashed back on.

“That’s so dangerous,” Finch said, eyebrows knit together in concern.

Crutchie shrugged. “It’s on the to-do list.”

“Don’t come to me when you get fried.”

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t gonna,” he mumbled. Finch just shook his head and looked back at the table, focused on scraping away the wax.

At the pool, Race and Spot were in a heated argument. “Ten bucks,” Race offered.

Spot shook his head. “No way. That’s not worth it.”

“Twenty.”

“Fifty.”

“Thirty.”

Spot narrowed his eyes. “Forty and you have to do it too. That’s my lowest offer.”

“I accept.” Race reached out and they shook hands, having come to an arrangement.

Jack and Specs were absent from the staff meeting after the campers were all gone, so Crutchie and Race closed things out. They announced that the camp was looking for donors, so if anyone had any particularly rich parents, to hit them up. About half of the staff left for the weekend, but the ones who stayed back paired off in small groups to find something to do.

Davey made the walk down to the director’s cabin, where he let himself in, unplugged Jack’s PlayStation from the TV, and plugged in his DVD player. He popped in his copy of the first Star Wars movie and got it to the title screen. Jack had never seen Star Wars, and he promised Davey that they could marathon them during time off. Davey flopped onto the couch, using Jack’s WiFi to catch up on social media before calling Sarah.

They stayed on the phone for a long time. Sarah had a young camper that week who wouldn’t use the bathroom- she just wanted to pee outside, and it took all Sarah and her co-counselors could do to get her into a bathroom. Eventually they figured out that the girl saw a spider in the bathroom on the first night of camp and after proving to her that the bathrooms were spider free, the situation settled out. On the other end of the line, Davey could hear Katherine singing loudly while what sounded like pots and pans clattered around. “I have to go, Davey,” she said. “Kath’s making me dinner.”

“Alright. I’m making Jack watch Star Wars tonight, anyway,” Davey told her.

“Nerd. I love you!”

“I love you, too.”

They hung up the phones and Davey waited some more. He glanced at his new watch. It was long past Jack’s usual time to finish up. The DVD player had timed out and the brand logo was bouncing around the screen. Davey put his shoes back on and headed out the door, braving the hill to Admin to see what was taking so long.

The walk was short, but Davey was not in great shape, so any type of uphill always took him a bit longer. He could hear a horse whinnying at the barn across the road, followed by what sounded like Skittery talking to it. A car passed by with Mush, Blink, and York in it. Davey stuck out his thumb as if he were hitch-hiking, which only earned a middle finger out of the drivers side window from Mush, followed by loud laughter as they drove on by.

When he finally made it up the hill, Jack and Specs were buried in papers. Every now and then Jack would call out a number, which Specs scribbled down. “Hey,” Davey said. “Are you almost done up here?”

“No,” Jack snapped irritably, but then caught himself. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Well, I’ve got the movie ready whenever you’re done.”

Jack winced. “Shit. Dave, I totally forgot. I don’t know if I’m going to finish in time.”

Davey grabbed a folding chair and dragged it over to the desk next to Jack. “What can I do?”

Jack started to say that he didn’t need help, but Specs cut him off. “We’re bad at numbers. We have to raise five thousand dollars like… ASAP.”

“How soon?”

“Thirty days,” Jack replied hopelessly.

Davey reached for the file folder in front of Jack. “Okay, let’s take a look at this.”

Jack and Specs were both very intelligent in their own rights, but they were artists, not businessmen. Davey knew more, and was able to do a lot to point them in the right direction. The work was still long and arduous and around dark, they could hear someone yelling outside. “I think that’s Race,” Davey said. “He’s good with numbers- I’ll grab him.”

Davey stepped outside and in the light of the streetlamp, he could see Race, completely naked, yelling at Spot, who was laughing from inside his Jeep. “Davey!” Race yelled when he heard the door open. “He won’t give me my clothes!”

Davey quickly averted his eyes. “What is happening right now?”

“We were both supposed to streak but he didn’t and then he stole my clothes and drove off!”

“I have so many questions,” Davey said, shaking his head slowly. “First of all, why were you supposed to streak?”

“Because he said he hadn’t ever done it so I dared him to, but then he said he’d only do it if I did!”

“O kay . And why are you up here? In the parking lot? By the road where people can see you?”

Race held up his hands, exasperated. “Because he drove off and I jumped on the back of his stupid car.”

“It’s a Jeep!” Spot yelled through a cracked window.

“I-” Davey stopped, knowing that there really wasn’t anything else to say. “Spot, give him his clothes. Some pants, at least. Please.” Still averting his eyes, he gestured toward Race. “We need numbers help.”

Spot begrudgingly handed Race a pair of shorts and a tank top, along with forty dollars. “Worth it.”

Race didn’t generally like to talk about it, but numbers organized his mind in a way that nothing else really could. As soon as he sat down and took over the spreadsheet that Specs was working from, he was calling out amounts and filling in blank spaces faster than anyone of the others could even think to process.

With Race and Davey’s help, they were able to get to a good stopping point and come up with a game plan in under an hour. Jack kissed Davey dramatically and then grabbed Race’s face and kissed him too, Bugs Bunny style. Race wiped his mouth and punched Jack on the arm while Davey and Specs looked at each other, rolling their eyes. “We done?” Specs asked. Jack nodded. “Sweet. I’m meeting Romeo for drinks.”

“Call if you need a ride back,” Davey said.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, Dad.”

Davey dragged a tired Jack back to the director’s cabin, where the DVD player logo was still bouncing around, waiting for them. Jack turned to Davey with pleading eyes. “Can we do this tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m literally about to pass out.” Davey switched the channel to HGTV, where a loud couple were knocking down a wall, and they settled into Jack’s bed while it played in the background. Jack had been quiet for a while, leaning against Davey’s shoulder, and Davey thought he had fallen asleep, but a quiet sentence escaped. “I don’t think I can do this, Dave.”

“What are you talking about? You’re doing fine.” Davey nudged Jack, but Jack rolled over, facing away, and didn’t talk again for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

At the staff meeting on Sunday, Jack handed Davey his roster sheepishly, without a word and without any direct eye contact. Davey skimmed over it quickly. He recognized a few names, with a few unfamiliar ones, and there in the middle of the roster, Les Jacobs . “No,” he said firmly. “No, no, no, no, no. Jack, you can’t do this to me again.” Jack held up his hands, smiled nervously, and walked backwards into his office.

“What’s up?” York asked, leaning over to look at the roster.

“My brother,” Davey replied, pointing at Les’ name.

Albert looked up from a piece of wood that he was attempting to carve. It looked like a whole lot of nothing. “We got Les? Sweet.”

“Not sweet,” Davey replied. “He gets pissy if he has to go more than nine hours without playing Fortnite right now. You’ll be sick of him by dinnertime.”

They mapped out the schedule and Davey walked it over to Spot, who was filling in the schedules for water activities. “I heard you’ve got Leslie,” Spot said as he took the schedule and started filling blanks in. “Mush has the pool at ten o’clock on Wednesday. You good with eleven?”

“Yeah. Think you can look the other way and let him drown?”

Without looking up from the schedules, Spot gave Davey a thumbs up.

The door opened and a breathless Hot Shot rushed in, dragging his backpack by the handle behind him. “You’re late,” Spot snapped.

“Yep,” Hot Shot replied with no apologies or explanations. “Where’s Jack?”

“His office.”

Hot Shot disappeared into Jack’s office and fifteen seconds later, they heard Jack yell “ What the fuck ?”

“Shit, ow , put me down!”

Jack ran into the room where the staff was gathered, listening in curiously. He waved a check in the air. “Hot Shot has a rich dad!”

“You got the five thousand?” Crutchie asked excitedly.

“Not that rich,” Hot Shot replied.

“One thousand,” Jack said. “But still !”

“That’s one thousand down, twenty-nine thousand to go,” Race piped up.

Jack turned to glare at him. “That makes it sound worse. I don’t want to hear your math. Go sit in the corner.”

“I’m already in the corner, dumbass,” Race replied from his seat in the corner.

The staff was dismissed to go scrounge up some lunch in the dining halls and get their units ready for campers. York caught up with Mush and Blink on the way down the hill to the dining hall. Blink looked sullen and hopeless and Mush had a hand on his shoulder, trying to console him. “What’s wrong with you?” York asked.

“I’m going to die this week,” Blink replied.

“Goodnight, sweet prince. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

“Shakespeare,” Blink said sadly.

“Obviously. Why are you dying?”

Blink just sighed heavily and Mush jumped in. “He’s got little kids this week and he’s an overdramatic baby.”

“I’m gonna have to clean up pee , Mush!”

“Yeah, welcome to my life most weeks.”

Blink stopped in his tracks and grabbed Mush, pulling him close. “You don’t understand, Mushy. I have Caleb this week.”

Mush winced. “Nevermind. I’ll start planning your funeral.”

“What’s wrong with Caleb?” York asked.

Mush shook his head. “Last year, he kept trying to run away, kept taking his clothes off, kept picking fights with other kids… the kid’s a nightmare.”

“Godspeed,” York said.

Check-in went as smoothly as it could with the little kids. There were only three meltdowns before dinner and only two scraped knees, which was a new record for Blink. Mike and Ike were running a crafts station which had mostly devolved to a bunch of popsicle sticks being glued together in seemingly random shapes. Tommy was helping parents carry suitcases from cars to cabins while Blink did his best to wrench helicopter parents away from their kids. The younger kids always came with massive suitcases that could probably sustain them for a month-long trip, rather than a week at summer camp. One particularly high-strung dad asked Blink where a wardrobe was so that he could hang his son’s clothes and did not seem pleased about the small cubby at the end of the bunk bed that Blink pointed to.

As Jack rode around on the golf cart doing his rounds, a call came through on the radio. “Mush to Jack.”

“This is Jack.”

“Can you come by Harlem? There’s sort of a… uh… situation?”

Jack did a quick U-turn. “I’m on my way.” He rode the rest of the way to Harlem, where a bit of a traffic jam had formed. He got out of the cart and walked the rest of the way, and the situation that Mush had referenced was immediately obvious. A gleaming black Cadillac Escalade had driven over the curb in the parking lot and into the steep ditch immediately ahead of it.

The mother, a thin woman with short blonde hair, was standing outside the car next to Mush, crying hysterically. “I just- I just put it in drive and I meant to reverse! It was an accident!” The back wheels of her car were fully in the air, leaving the back end raised above the parking lot.

“It happens to the best of us,” Mush said soothingly, shooting Jack a panicked look. Jack approached slowly after ducking down to inspect the underside of the car. It was definitely stuck, with the undercarriage pressed against the curb. The other cars couldn’t get by, and traffic was stacking up.

Jack hit the call button on his radio. “Can any program staff not doing check-in come down to Harlem? And Spot, can you bring your car?”

“Jeep,” Spot replied gruffly.

“Whatever.”

Crutchie piped up. “Come pick me up from the art hut!”

Within a couple of minutes, Spot’s huge Jeep pulled up with Crutchie, Race, Finch, and JoJo inside. Spot let out a low whistle when he saw the car. “Well, shit.” Race elbowed him. “Shoot.” Jack had a few of the guys start directing parents out of the area backwards while Spot and JoJo unspooled a heavy chain from the trunk, which they attached to the Jeep’s bumper.

As soon as the way was clear, JoJo drove the Jeep up closer while Spot worked to attach the other end of the chain to the Escalade. The woman started to panic. “No! If you pull it out, it’ll get all scraped up underneath.”

Spot stared at her, dumbfounded, halfway through attaching the chain. “Ma’am, unless we bring a crane in here and airlift your car out of there, which I’ll tell you right now we can’t do, that car ain’t going anywhere without getting scraped up.”

“Maybe I could just pull it forward some,” she suggested.

“It’ll still get scraped up and you’ll end up in the picnic shelter with no way out.”

Reluctantly, she agreed to have the car towed, and Spot jumped into the driver’s seat while JoJo kept an eye on the chain and Race directed him backwards. Slowly, Spot reversed the Jeep after putting it into four wheel drive. The chain went taut and the Jeep started to whine and roar in protest. Neither car was able to move for a second, but the Escalade slowly started to move. There was a horrible scraping of metal on concrete, and everyone gathered there winced. “It’s like ripping off a Bandaid!” Spot yelled out the window over the din. Once the wheels touched the ground again, the towing went fast. JoJo ducked down and inspected the bottom of the car.

“Take a left out of the camp and there’s a mechanic about two miles down the road. I wouldn’t try to drive any farther than that without getting checked, if I were you,” he advised.

Spot started coiling the chain back up, and Race met him by the trunk. “Happy?” Race asked.

“Very.”

The Flushing boys had their hands full with the middle school boys. They were at the age where they really wanted to be independent, but they weren’t old enough for any actual freedom. Davey and York confiscated three cell phones before check-in was even over, and Albert and Elmer were doing their best to keep the boys contained. Les was one of the last to arrive, with his and Davey’s parents in tow. Davey’s mom hugged him tightly before pulling back, holding Davey at arms length. “You need a haircut. And you need to shave. You look like a mess.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Where’s Jack?” she asked. “I made him some of those blondies he likes.”

“He’s busy,” Davey replied.

“Oh, I wanted to see him!” Mrs. Jacobs sounded disappointed. “It’s been a while. Maybe we could just hang around for a little-”

“ No ,” Davey said emphatically.

She rolled her eyes. “Meyer,” she called to her husband. “Go get those blondies out of the car for me!” She turned back to Davey. “You are bringing him to Opa’s birthday, right?”

“Yes, mom,” Davey said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m bringing my best friend to the party.”

“You know he likes Jack,” she said with a sigh. “He’s just not ready to know the truth. Katherine is coming too!”

“Great. I really can’t talk about this right now.”

Davey pulled Jack aside outside the dining hall before dinner. “You missed my parents,” he said.

“I know, I’m so mad!” Davey reached into his backpack and pulled out a large plastic container full of blondies, and Jack’s eyes lit up. “God, I love your mother. Is Les doing alright?”

“Yeah,” Davey said. “He just won’t shut up about Overwatch.”

“Half the time, you won’t shut up about Overwatch either,” Jack pointed out.

Davey chose to ignore him. “Are you still coming to my granddad’s birthday this weekend?”

“Of course,” Jack replied. “I’ve been practicing my talking points about how straight you are. Maybe I’ll pretend I’m dating Kath. Oh! Or Sarah!”

“Shut up.”

Jack winked. “Get back to work before I fire you.”

After campfire, Crutchie made the short walk to the art hut to finish planning the crafts for that week. His planning time had been interrupted by the car in the ditch earlier that day. From the street, he could see a single light on inside.

Inside the building, Jack had set up a canvas and was in the process of mixing a couple of paints on a plastic plate. The beginnings of a landscape were forming on the canvas. “Santa Fe again?” Crutchie asked, seeing the large quantities of reds and oranges laid out.

“Yep.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve pulled that one out.”

Jack shrugged. “I figured I’d get ready to move there when I get fired.”

Crutchie pulled himself up to sit on the counter next to Jack’s supplies. “I know you’re kidding, but stop being so dramatic.”

“I could get fired!”

“Maybe,” Crutchie replied. “But you’re not moving across the country from Dave and we both know it. Find a new escape plan, bro.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Jack’s lips. “Maybe like… Pittsburgh.”

“Ah, yes. The Santa Fe of Pennsylvania.” Crutchie rolled his eyes. “Promise me you won’t move to Pittsburgh.”

“I promise. Sorry I kind of bailed on the Santa Fe plan.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Jack paused. “I know that was kind of going to be our thing. But hey, maybe we can be roommates next year!”

“Didn’t Davey just graduate?”

“Yeah. So?”

Crutchie kicked Jack lightly in the hip. “Are you really going to sit there and tell me you’re not going to try to get him to move in with you?” Jack looked sheepish. “Besides, Specs was thinking about rooming with me.” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Don’t start.”

“O kay ,” Jack replied, long, drawn out, and judgemental.

Crutchie sat and watched Jack paint for around an hour while they steadily worked their way through the box of blondies. It was a quick painting made with long, swooping brush strokes, and started to come together quickly. He was about to start adding a few cacti and maybe a horse when a call came through on the radio.

One of the twins was on the other end, a note of panic clear in his voice. “Jack?” he said, not even bothering to wait for a response. “There’s a code blue in Woodside.” Jack and Crutchie cursed simultaneously. A small piece of paper was taped to the back of every radio listing out the various emergency codes. Code blue was a serious medical emergency.

Chapter Text

Jack and Crutchie raced out to the golf cart, which Jack threw into gear. “Jack to Spot,” he said over the radio, knowing that Spot had more first aid training than anyone else there.

“Already on my way,” he replied.

They caught up to Spot, who was jogging down the road carrying his lifeguard bag, near the entrance to the Woodside area, and he jumped on the back of the golf cart to ride the rest of the day. Tommy was waiting by the open door of a cabin and motioned them inside. Most of the kids in the cabin were huddled over by the side, looking scared, while one boy was lying on a bottom bunk covering his face with his hands. York was there, holding a towel to the top of the boy’s head while Blink tore through the camper files.

“What happened?” Jack asked as soon as he got to Tommy.

“Caleb fell out of the top bunk,” he explained hurriedly. “He hit his head really hard.” Spot pushed past Tommy and took his place next to York.

“Is he bleeding?” he asked, nodding at the towel. York pulled it away slightly, exposing a bright red patch on the towel. “Put that back and apply pressure.” He put his hands on either side of Caleb’s head, stabilizing his neck in case of a spinal injury. As soon as the other staff members got inside, Spot nodded at Ike. “Run up to the pool and call 911.” Ike tore out of the cabin into the dark.

Jack glanced at York. “What are you doing here?”

“I was on break,” he replied, distracted by the now bloody towel in his hand.

“Tommy, go round up the kids and take them to…” Jack paused, trying to focus on one thought long enough to finish it. “The lodge. You can sleep in there tonight.”

Tommy clapped his hands together. “Alright, guys,” he said to the campers there. “Grab your sleeping bags and pillows. We’re going to have a lodge sleepover.”

“Got his file,” Blink said, passing it to Jack. Jack glanced at it.

“Hey, bud,” he said to the boy. “Can you move your hands?” Caleb didn’t move. “I just need you to move your hands, it’s okay.”

“It’s too bright,” the boy said from behind his hands. Crutchie, who was still near the door, turned off the main overhead light, leaving the light near the door on.

“Okay, we’ve got the lights off. Can you move your hands now?” Shaking, the boy moved his hands and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Aside from being red and puffy from crying, there was no damage to his face. “Alright. I’m just gonna ask you a few questions. What’s your name?” There was no response. “I just need you to tell me your name.”

“I don’t know,” Caleb replied slowly. The staff in the room exchanged horrified glances.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“No,” Caleb said.

“...Do you know where you are right now?”

Caleb didn’t answer for a few seconds. “A bed?”

Jack looked at Spot and York. “Keep him talking.” He looked around, checking to see who else was in the room. “Mike, go help Tommy with the kids. Uh… Crutchie. Can you ride with him to the hospital?”

“Of course,” Crutchie said. Jack took a picture of Caleb’s file on his phone and handed the hard copy to Crutchie. In the background, Spot and York kept asking Caleb questions, none of which he seemed to know.

“Race to Jack.” The radio came to life on Jack’s backpack. “The ambulance just pulled in. They’re heading to you now.”

“Have them turn off the lights,” Spot said. Jack relayed the message and within the next minute, an ambulance with no emergency lights pulled right up next to the cabin. A couple of EMTs took a stretched out of the back and made their way inside while Jack filled another in on what had happened. Ike got back from the pool’s phone and joined up with Mike and Tommy, who herded the group of little boys past the ambulance toward the lodge. Race and Specs ran, panting, up to the cabin.

They all stepped aside for the EMTs, who took over for Spot and York. Crutchie followed them out, walking alongside the stretcher and talking as cheerfully as he could to Caleb, who had started to cry again.

When the ambulance pulled away, a very frazzled Jack turned to Blink. “Okay. So, what happened?”

Blink shook his head in a daze. “We put them to bed and all that, but I guess Caleb was on the top bunk and trying to hang down and flip into the bottom bunk? Something like that. But he fell right on his head. Mike was actually right outside and heard it.”

Jack got a few more details and ran a hand over his face. “Okay,” he said. “I need to go call parents. And fill out incident reports…” He stared into the distance, making a mental to-do list. “Blink, you can go back to your group. I’ll let you know when we’ve got an update.” He got back into the golf cart with Spot, Specs, and Race and drove off into the night towards Admin, where they all had a long night ahead of them.

Blink was quiet as he walked back toward the lodge with York next to him. “You good?” York asked. Blink just groaned. “Should I start planning your funeral? Would you like to be buried or cremated? Any song requests? Do you want a poem?”

“York,” Blink said, holding up a hand. “Can you not?”

York shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I just wanted to make sure that we follow your wishes. I mean, we could always dump you into the lake and be done with it. Or- you know, Nic Cage is getting a big pyramid. We could maybe do that. Maybe Mush could hotbox your coffin so you can go out nice and chill.” Blink snorted, trying not to laugh.

“York,” he said seriously, stopping and pulling York to a stop. “When I die…” He paused, taking a’ deep breath. “Make sure I go out high as fuck.”

“You got it.”

In the morning, everyone sitting at the admin table at breakfast looked like they were halfway through a transformation into zombies. Davey stopped by the table and sat down a full pot of coffee for all of them. “York told me what happened,” he said. “When did you guys get to bed?”

“We didn’t,” Jack said dully. Race yawned into his hand and Specs leaned, half asleep, against Crutchie’s shoulder.

“Is the kid alright?”

“He’s got a concussion,” Spot said as he cracked open a vanilla Coke and poured it into a coffee mug. “But his memory came back after the shock wore off and he’ll be fine. Went home, though.”

“I have the morning break today,” Davey said. “Do you guys need help with anything?”

“That would actually be great,” Jack replied. “Come by Manhattan after breakfast.”

Davey went back to the table that he was sharing with Albert, which of course, Les had claimed. Les had been warned under pain of death not to talk about Davey’s personal life this year, but the word was out among most of the camp. Even if Les didn’t tell anyone that his brother was dating the camp director, that didn’t mean that other returning campers wouldn’t. He periodically glanced at the admin table where the guys were eating in silence. Race’s head was resting on his arms, eyes closed, mouth hanging wide open as he slept.

Les was in the middle of a heated argument with his friend Ben about Overwatch, and it just kept growing louder and louder in volume. “You can’t compare D.Va and Moira like that,” Davey interrupted, shutting them down. “It’s apples and oranges.” The moment he said it, he knew it was a mistake, as every kid at the table started yelling questions about the game at him. Davey looked to Albert for help, but Al just laughed and asked who he mains.

After breakfast, Davey beat Jack to Manhattan. He waited in the room that Jack shared with Race, flipping through a stack of canvases that Jack had recently finished. An idea struck him just as Jack came through the door. “Have you thought about selling your paintings for the fundraiser.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “No one wants to buy that.”

“I would.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll paint you enough to cover every wall you’ve got.”

Davey held up one that had been shoved toward the back. There was a half-finished landscape, but the most obvious detail was the fist-sized hole that had been ripped though the canvas. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” Jack said with a sheepish grin.

“What’d you need help with, anyway?”

Jack fell into his bed with a long, drawn out sigh. “Moral support,” he replied. Davey climbed in next to him and within minutes, Jack was fast asleep.

In the morning, Albert and Elmer faced their group, both dressed in camouflage from head to toe, with streaks of mud smeared purposefully across their faces. The campers, who were barely awake, stared at them with sleepy confusion. “Well, men,” Albert said. “Today we separate the…” He turned to Elmer. “Weak from the strong?”

“Sure,” Elmer replied. “You’ll need speed. You’ll need agility. Most of all, you’ll need brains.” They each produced a brightly colored flag from their back pockets- one orange, one neon pink. “Boys, it’s capture the flag day.” The middle school boys roared with excitement while Davey and York stood off to the side, not wearing camouflage, watching. Albert and Elmer each headed up a team after splitting the group in half. Elmer had the orange team and Al had pink. They would spend the morning apart with Davey and York running interference between the two groups, preparing to place the flags. During lunch, Davey and York would put the flags exactly where they were told, and they would spend the rest of the afternoon at war.

They commandeered some face paint, which the boys worked together to apply as strategically as possible, and a few of the campers actually rolled in mud to camouflage themselves. Davey made a mental note to do laundry that evening when it was all over.

Around ten, Les waved Davey over to his group. Someone had drawn a rough map of the camp and they were moving beads around it in strategic formations. “Do you think we could use the archery stuff?”

“What-” Davey sputtered. “ You can’t shoot other kids .”

“Just to scare them off a little,” another boy said. “We won’t actually shoot.”

Davey shook his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna call a hard ‘no’ on that.”

“Water balloons?” Les asked hopefully.

“I’ll allow it.”

At lunch, Davey and York walked around the camp to hide the flags. Albert’s team had chosen to tie theirs under a bridge in the woods, where the other boys would have to climb down a small ravine to even see it. Elmer’s went to the lodge, stashed just under the porch. They specifically told Davey and York not to disturb the spiders under the porch to deter anyone from looking under there. It took the two counselors a while to decide who would place it, but after a failed game of rock, paper, scissors, York found himself crawling under the porch on his hands and knees, carefully avoiding the many spiderwebs.

They met back at the dining hall, where the boys were gathered as Albert and Elmer went over the rules. “Buddy system still applies,” Elmer said. “No touching. That means no hitting, pulling, dragging, tackling, et cetera. The only legal weapons are water balloons and Nerf guns. The first group to have their entire group and the flag back here wins.” They passed out a few old radios that Albert found in storage. “My team, channel two. Al’s team, channel three.” The boys programmed their radios accordingly and after a quick test of all of them, Davey raised a hand, counted down from three, and the boys were off, darting off in different directions.

Several on each team had taken up defensive positions, while others were following the defenders, trying to get a line on where the flags were. Albert and Elmer jogged around in what they thought looked like military style and Davey and York waited at the checkpoint with first aid kits. It didn’t take long before the scraped knees started to pour in, and Davey found himself immediately regretting allowing a game of capture the flag in a group of Fortnite-obsessed preteens. He and York had their radios programmed to the channels that the kids were using, and it was complete chaos of boys shouting orders about flanking interspersed with memes.

Davey and York sat in a couple of folding chairs, laughing at the kids as they searched the camp grounds for over an hour. Les and a boy named Ronak seemed to be getting close to the pink flag, and York and Davey started figuring out what they would do with the group for the rest of the day when this was all over. The radio buzzed to life, crackling with static for a few moments. “This is Ronak. There’s a bear. Over.”

York, who was holding onto the channel 2 radio, hit the call button instantly. “Where’s a bear?”

“We’re by the waterfall in the ravine. It’s at the top of the hill.”

Elmer buzzed in. “Is it an adult?”

“No. I think it’s a baby!”

“Has it noticed you?” Davey asked, grabbing the radio from York.

There was a short silence. “No… wait, it just looked at us!”

“Make yourself as big as possible and get out of there,” Davey commanded.

At the same time, York grabbed the other radio. “Albert’s team. They spotted a bear out near your flag. Get out of the woods and meet up.”

The radio devolved into chaos from Albert’s team, but Elmer’s was relatively silent. Davey called in every thirty seconds or so, asking for an update, but no one answered, not even Elmer. He was one call away from running into the woods himself when Les yelled over the radio. “ We got the flag ! Go, go, go!”

Within seconds, boys from Elmer’s team tore out of the woods, down the road and skidded to a stop in front of Davey and York with Les waving the flag triumphantly. Davey just stared at him. “Did you just make up a fake bear so we’d make the other team move?” Les flashed him a bright smile, and Davey just sighed and dropped his face into his palms.

Chapter Text

On Wednesday night, the boys cooked out for dinner. The campers were old enough to build their own fire and do some of the cooking, with supervision, so the staff set them to work gathering firewood and cutting vegetables as soon as they got back from the pool in the afternoon. Albert and Elmer played cards at the picnic table and York read a book while Davey worked on filling out the camper reports for the day that the unit leaders always had to have ready.

From next to the fire, Les called out, “Davey! We just melted the spatula!” Davey looked up to see Ben holding a mangled, half melted mess.

“What did you do ?” he asked.

Ben shrugged. “Stirred the fire.”

York glanced up from his book. “There’s literally a fire poker two feet away from you.”

Davey sighed. “I’ll go get a new one.” He put the camper reports back in his cabin and started down Flushing Hill toward Manhattan to grab a spatula from the kitchen. When he stepped inside, it was dark, so he turned on the lights and immediately to the right, saw Race lounging on the couch wearing only a pair of bright pink boxer briefs and a backwards hat, watching an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians and eating straight out of an avocado with a serving spoon. “What are you doing?”

Race glanced up from the show just long enough to acknowledge Davey. “Dinner.”

“Well, alright.” He stepped into the kitchen and dug through the drawers for a spatula. Most of the utensils in there were rejects that weren’t good enough for the dining hall, so it was all a bit bent, but it would be good enough for a group of twelve year olds.

“Hey,” Race said as Davey was leaving. “If you see Spot, can you tell him I’m hungry?”

“I wasn’t really planning on seeing Spot,” Davey replied.

“Yes, you are. He’s going to come mooch off of your cookout.”

Davey shrugged. “You could just come up and get some, you know.”

“There’s a hill,” Race whined.

“Suit yourself.”

An hour later, Spot came in and passed a foil packet to Race. “Why are you eating avocados with a serving spoon?” he asked, nodding at the huge spoon in the avocado husk on the table.

“It was the closest thing.”

Spot went to the kitchen to grab actual, normal-sized forks for both of them. “What’s wrong?”

Race glanced up. “What makes you think something’s wrong?” he asked.

Spot shoved Race’s legs off of the couch and took a seat. “You get really lazy and sensitive when you’re depressed and you couldn’t bother to find an actual fork or wear pants.”

“They were itchy,” Race mumbled.

“Also, you’ve been smoking.”

Race shrugged and tore into the foil packet, which was full of steaming vegetables. “You didn’t get the chicken?”

“I don’t like you enough to cook meat, Higgins.”

“Hot sauce?”

“Already in there.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Race said, mouth full of potatoes. “Everything’s fine. I guess I’m just in a funk.”

The Kardashians continued to play in the background. Khloe had just pulled a really dumb prank that probably cost about a thousand dollars to set up. “God, these people are awful,” Spot commented.

“Hey. That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Mazel tov on the wedding.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while until Race balled up his aluminum foil and threw it at Spot’s head. Already ready, Spot snagged it out of the air before it connected. “You know,” Race said slowly. “You can stop tiptoeing around me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Race shrugged. “You’ve been weird ever since my mom died. You’re being too nice.”

“Sorry for being nice,” Spot replied sarcastically.

“No, I mean…” Race stalled out, shaking his head. “I don’t need you to take care of me, you know?”

“ You’re the one that asked me to bring you food.”

“Then tell me to get off my ass and get it myself! But it’s not just the food.”

Spot rolled his eyes, getting annoyed. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Race. You ask me for something and I do it and you get pissed, or you ask me to do something and I don’t do it and you get pissed. Like I showed up to the funeral and you said you needed space, so I gave you space and you said I was ignoring you.”

“I was really fucked up after that,” Race said defensively.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t blame you for that, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

Race shrugged. “Maybe we’re just better off as friends, then.”

Spot sighed. “Alright. Just let me know when you change your mind this time.” He tossed their dishes into the sink and headed out, walking back up the hill to Flushing. David’s group had finished their cookout and had been sent out to wash dishes and put out the fire before they had some free time. He sat down at the picnic table where Davey was sitting and put his head down on his arms.

“What’s up?” Davey asked.

“Race said we need to stay friends again,” Spot replied. It had been happening a lot lately. Race would fall into a funk, Spot would try to help, Race would dump him or suggest a break, and then come back within a day or two.

“That sucks.” Davey glanced around to check for any prying ears. “I mean, do you think you would be better off just as friends? It’s been kind of on again, off again lately.”

“No!” Spot replied quickly. He lowered his voice. “Shit, Dave. This whole back and forth thing is killing me, but I’d rather have that than nothing. At least this way I know he’ll be back in a few days.”

“You know, as your gay guide-”

Spot cut him off. “Stop.”

Ignoring him, Davey continued. “As your gay guide, bit of advice? You’re always telling me how crazy you are about him. Maybe you should tell him that instead of me. Do you ever talk about feelings?” Spot made a face. “I’m serious.”

Spot pushed himself to his feet. “Nevermind, I’m done with this. I’m going to the pool.” He stalked away up the hill toward the shortcut to the pool.

When Spot disappeared into the woods, a voice beside Davey mimicked him. “Gay Guide, huh?” Davey turned to see York there, book propped open.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked.

“All of it,” York replied, as if it were obvious. “I was literally sitting four feet away that whole time. I’m blind, not deaf.”

“Sorry. I didn’t even notice you there.”

“It happens,” York said with a shrug.

Friday came uneventfully, and the kids started to go home. Davey waited and waited, but his parents didn’t come to get Les. Finally, when he was the only kid left, Davey confronted him. “When are they coming to get you?”

“They’re not,” Les replied, looking up from the lanyard that he was making. “Sarah’s giving all of us a ride to Opa’s.”

“It might’ve been nice for them to tell me that.” Les just shrugged. Davey dragged Les and his suitcase down the hill to Manhattan. He pointed at a rocking chair on the porch. “You stay there. Don’t move.”

“Can I play your Switch?” Les asked. Davey reached into his backpack and pulled a Nintendo Switch out, passing it over to Les.

“Don’t mess up any of my save files.”

Inside, the staff was mostly assembled for the end of week meeting. They were just waiting on Blink’s group, who were having a bit of trouble with cleaning. Race dropped into an armchair with Spot and whispered something in Spot’s ear before leaning against his shoulder. Spot caught Davey’s eye with a barely contained smile.

Most of Jack’s announcements were the usual, but he did announce that they had chosen a date for the adult camp- the third weekend of July- and that they would need staff volunteers. There was a sign-up sheet on the coffee table in the middle of the room, which a little more than half of the counselors gathered there signed after the meeting. Davey pulled Jack aside after they adjourned. “We have to bring Les on the car ride,” he said apologetically.

“I know. Your mom called me a few days ago.” Jack flashed a cheeky grin at Davey’s confusion over his boyfriend having more contact with his mom than he did.

The car ride was long and hot. Sarah’s air conditioning was broken and Davey found himself crammed into the middle seat between Jack and Les. Jack talked animatedly to Sarah and Kath and Davey breathed a sigh of relief at not having to provide conversation. Camp was emotionally exhausting, and he knew this big family birthday party wouldn’t be much better. It was his grandfather’s eightieth, so the entire family and most of his grandfather’s friends would be there. They got to the hotel as the sun went down and checked in, and the two couples split off to their separate rooms.

In the morning, they met Davey and Sarah’s parents in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Mrs. Jacobs grilled Jack with questions about running the camp while Mr. Jacobs bombarded Kath with questions about her blog and journalism work, which left Davey, Sarah, and Les blissfully ignored. “Okay,” Meyer said. “We need to get to the venue. Bring your good clothes but we’re going to put you to work, so don’t put them on just yet. Girls, can you go pick up the cake and Aunt Abigail? Boys, could you go to the liquor store and pick up our order? Not you, Les. You’re coming with us to Oma and Opa’s house. And Jack, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could paint some kind of birthday banner?”

“Of course,” Jack replied. “What should it say?”

“Happy 80th Birthday would work,” Meyer replied. “Or Happy Birthday, David- whatever.”

“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Jack said to Davey in mock surprise.

“Shut up,” Davey replied. He looked at his parents. “Sarah has the car.”

“You can take your dad’s truck,” Esther replied. “We’ve got my car here.” They all split up, going to separate cars. Without a word, Jack held out his hand and Davey gave him the keys. He had never been very confident with a manual transmission.

As they drove to the liquor store, with Davey calling out directions, a text came through from Spot. everythings cool w race. thanks for making jack leave the room last night ;)

Davey made a face. Leave me out of your makeup sex, he replied.

“What?” Jack asked.

“Just Spot filling me in on his sex life,” Davey said.

They grabbed several cases of beers and wines from the liquor store, which Mr. Jacobs had preordered for them. The venue for the party was an old banquet hall, and Jack and Davey sat on the floor while Jack painted a banner and Davey passed him supplies. As soon as it was dry enough that it didn’t drip, they hung the banner high above the buffet that Esther was working on setting up.

By the afternoon, family- close, distant, and extended- started arriving, and each of them had to stop and gush over how beautiful Sarah was and how tall Davey was. “Sorry about this,” Davey said as he wiped sticky red lipstick off of his cheek.

“It’s nice. Hang on.” Jack reached out and wiped the rest of the lipstick off of him. “Okay, you’re good. But for real, you’re lucky. I never had anything like this, you know?” He nodded toward a window, where Les and some other boys around his age were playing a pickup game of soccer. “I’ve never even met a single cousin and you’ve got this huge family.”

“They like you.”

“Well, I’m dripping with charm,” Jack said. Davey rolled his eyes. Over Davey’s shoulder, he spotted Sarah pushing her grandfather in a wheelchair and nudged Davey.

“Speak up,” Davey whispered. “And we’re not together.”

Sarah leaned down and half yelled in her grandfather’s ear. “Here’s David, Opa. And this is his friend, Jack.”

“David,” he responded in heavily accented English. “You’re so tall now! What grade are you in now?”

“I’ve graduated, Opa,” Davey responded loudly. “I’m done with school.”

“Happy birthday, Mr. Jacobs,” Jack said. After several more questions, most of which centered around figuring out how old Sarah and Davey were, Sarah wheeled him away to sit with some of his army friends. “Does he have…” Jack trailed off.

“Alzheimer’s,” Davey finished. “Yeah.”

“Sorry. You just never really talk about them.”

Davey shrugged. “I know. It’s just like… this might sound really bad. But it doesn’t really seem like him anymore, you know? Like, that’s not the same guy I knew when I was little.” Jack quickly squeezed Davey’s hand after making sure that no one could see them.

The rest of the day passed without too much incident, except for about five different relatives asking, sometimes several times, if either Jack and Sarah or Davey and Kath were dating. On the way out, Davey grabbed two unopened wine bottles, which he stashed in Jack’s backpack. “What’s this for?” Jack asked.

Davey stared at him seriously. “It was a very stressful day and I’m going to make you watch Star Wars and get wine drunk tonight.”

Chapter Text

Specs spent the weekend with Mush and JoJo. For several weeks by that point, the three of them had been talking about going for an overnight trail run to see how far they could get. Specs drove them to the closest section of the Appalachian trail and they ran hard and fast for all of Saturday and even into the night. By the time they pooled their money for an Uber back to the car, they were beaten, sore, tired, and somehow, energized.

On Sunday morning, Specs limped into his room in Manhattan and collapsed onto the bunk with a loud groan. “What happened to you?” Crutchie asked from his side of the room. A pile of wood shavings covered the floor around him- Albert’s attempt at a woodworking hobby had spread.

“I died,” Specs replied. “And then I woke up. And then I died again.”

“Are you dead or alive right now?”

“Ask me again later.”

Crutchie fell silent for a bit and the only sound in the room was the soft scraping of his knife against wood. “I always wanted to get into trail running,” he mused.

Specs rolled over to face him. “Yeah?”

“Or hiking, I guess. It looks cool.”

“Aren’t there any trails you can go on?” Crutchie stared at him and Specs shook his head quickly. “No, I mean- I’ve seen trails that are pretty accessible.”

“I can’t stay on my feet that long. And the wheelchair accessible ones aren’t really hikes. They’re paths more than anything. Not into it.”

“Do you think training would help?”

“Nah,” Crutchie said. “Maybe if I only had a muscle problem, but I’ve got bone shit going on. You can’t train that away.”

“That really sucks.”

At the staff meeting, Jack stood in front of the room wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. “What’s up with the glasses?” Crutchie asked after Jack called the meeting to order.

“Well, Chester. I’m super hungover and feel like I might vom on all of you, so we’re gonna make this quick.” Sitting at the table next to him, an extremely green Davey nursed a ginger ale. “Anyway. Same deal as always this week. Schedules. Camp. Whoo. Sign up if you can help with adult camp. Also, it’s been too hot and dry so they instituted a burn ban, so no fires. It might rain this weekend so we should be good after that.”

“What about cookout?” Buttons asked.

“Cancelled for this week. Make sure your kids are drinking enough, and try to plan dry land activities for the… not the… the not hot part of the day.”

“Smooth,” Race said with a laugh.

Jack tilted his sunglasses downward and glared at Race. “Shut up, my brain is imploding. Okay… go.” He leaned down to speak quietly into Davey’s ear. “Come talk to me for a minute.”

Davey followed Jack into his office. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Move in with me,” Jack blurted out. “I mean… please. I meant to ask you before but kept getting distracted. But yeah. Move in.”

Davey’s face split into a wide grin. “What took you so long? I’ve been putting off signing a lease for ages .”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jack yelled. They both winced.

“Because you don’t just tell someone that you’re moving in with them if they haven’t asked you yet!” Davey grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I know,” Jack replied.

Davey pushed him away. “No. You can’t start quoting Star Wars at me. That’s not fair.” Jack pulled him back in and it was several more minutes before Davey could get back to work.

For the rest of the day, Davey felt like he was gliding around on a cloud. His hangover couldn’t ruin his mood. Being saddled with the little kids for the week didn’t bring him down. Even a kid getting sick did nothing to budge his giddiness. Every time he and Jack caught each others’ eyes around camp, Davey felt his internal organs jump a bit. They hadn’t even had time to discuss anything yet, but Davey could already picture paintings on every wall, meticulously organized bookshelves- maybe he’d get Jack the dog he had always wanted. A rescue- some kind of mutt. Something goofy and happy.

He took over bedtime, cheerfully telling the boys bedtime stories. When they were down for the night, he walked with a bounce in his step up the hill to sit on the steps of the top cabin and wait to make sure the boys were actually asleep. York sat at the bottom cabin’s steps, reading by the glow of the porch light. “What’s up with Davey?” a voice asked from the road. York jumped and it took a moment for his eye to adjust enough to see Blink walking up the hill toward him.

“He’s moving in with Jack.”

Blink sat down next to York and handed him a snack size bag of Doritos. “Was that not already happening?” York shrugged. “Are you reading The Bell Jar ? That’s a bit depressing.”

“This is me we’re talking about,” York replied. “ I’m a bit depressing.”

“Nah. You’re just melancholy.”

York bookmarked his page. “Shouldn’t you be off smoking out the handyman’s cabin with Mush?”

Blink shook his head. “We polished off the last of our stash for now last week. And his group’s on a night hike. And,” he continued after a brief hesitation. “I sort of wanted to see you.”

“We were together all weekend,” York pointed out.

“So?”

An hour later, Blink walked back to his cabin. Just outside of Woodside, Mush was waiting for him in the shadows and jumped out at Blink, who yelped and jumped backwards. “Are you tryin’ to kill me?” he gasped.

“Yes,” Mush replied seriously. “But for real, did you tell him?”

Blink scowled. “No.”

“ Why ?”

“There wasn’t the right moment.”

Mush spun around so that he was walking backwards, facing Blink. “There’s never going to be a right moment,” he said. “You’ve got to make your moments, or whatever.”

“I did call him melancholy,” Blink said defensively.

“Wh- why?”

“It’s called flirting, Mushy. Look it up.”

Mush turned back around and threw an arm over Blink’s shoulders as they walked. “Blinky, I think I’ve figured out why you haven’t dated in a while.”

“Because my dazzling good looks intimidate people because they know they can’t match my beauty?”

“Exactly.”

The week was blissfully calm after all of the craziness the week before. Davey’s group was a spectacularly well-behaved group, considering that they were the younger boys. It helped that the majority of the group was close to aging up to the next group. Davey spent every spare moment with Jack, planning out their home together. It had gone from deciding where Davey could put his snake’s tank to deciding what additions they would build on to the house that they buy together someday- a fixer upper, of course, that they could work together to fix up.

Spot and Race were having a rare week with no problems in it. Every evening, Race went to help Spot check the pH balance of the pool, clean the filters, and generally, go for a (technically) forbidden swim. One day as Spot watched Race fly through Rubik’s Cubes as though his life depended on it, something clicked. “Hey Race,” he said. Race barely glanced up from the cube, but Spot could tell that he was listening. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you been taking your meds?”

Race’s hands slowed slightly, no longer flicking the cubes back and forth in familiar patterns. He was mostly just fidgeting with them now. “Uh… not exactly. I forgot to get them refilled.”

Spot rolled his eyes. Race’s bouncing mood swings, between lethargic, depressed states and manic, bright periods of chaos, suddenly made sense. “When did you forget to get them refilled?”

“Like… May?”

“ Race .” Race held his hands out innocently in a who, me? gesture. “We’re doing that this weekend.”

“Mmm, a trip to CVS,” Race joked. “Hot date.” Spot dug through Race’s backpack and found a black Sharpie. Uncapping it, he took Race’s hand and wrote call cvs across the back of his hand.

On Thursday night, the breeze started to pick in and clouds began to shift into view, promising rain in the near future. The birds sang as they took cover, preparing for an upcoming storm. In the barn, the equestrian staff prepped for a downpour while the rest of the staff took care of bedtime routines.

A fairly large crowd had gathered in Manhattan between program and admin staff and people taking their breaks. Jack, Davey, Mush, Specs, Race, Spot, and Crutchie sat on the floor of the main room, playing a game. It involved calling out words in certain categories before your opponents, and not long after the game began, Race, Spot, and Crutchie were screaming answers at each other. Davey, however, was quietly winning. He didn’t yell or try to sabotage the game. He was just better at the game than the other guys.

Outside, Buttons and Sniper walked slowly down the street with no flashlights, talking quietly. It was a new moon and aside from the stars and distant lights from cabins, there was no light. The cicadas and bullfrogs were louder than their voices at many points, occasionally interrupted by an excited or angry shout from the direction of Manhattan. As they turned a corner, they spotted a strange glow on the horizon. “What’s that?” Sniper asked.

“No idea,” Buttons replied. They kept walking a little bit faster, and Buttons kept a hand on their radio just in case they would need its flashlight. As they got closer, both Buttons and Sniper realized simultaneously what the glow was. It was warm, orange, and bright, and emitted a bitter scent. What they had thought was a dark rain cloud, they realized at once, was a dark plume of smoke rising into the sky.

“I’m going to call 911!” Sniper said before sprinting toward the dining hall, where there was a phone.

Buttons ran towards the orange light until the fire was uncomfortably close and surprisingly huge. Over the crackling of old, dry wood, Buttons hit the call button on the radio. “Jack,” they yelled into the radio. “Code red at the art hut!”

Chapter Text

“Code red at the art hut!”

The staff gathered in Manhattan froze in slackjawed shock. Davey hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, and looked to Jack, but Jack made no move to give any sort of command. Spot was the first to react. He pointed at Davey and Mush first. “Get to your campers and start evacuating. Jack, give me a radio.” Again, Jack didn’t move, but Race leaned across him, grabbed a radio, and tossed it to Spot. “Spot to all units,” he said in a commanding voice. “Start evacuating to the church. Call in once you leave. Anyone not with a group, go find one to help out. Buttons- did anyone call 911 yet?”

Buttons responded immediately. “Sniper’s doing it now,” they replied.

By this point, Spot was on his feet. He looked down at the others, who were still sitting on the floor. “Are any of you planning on getting off your asses any time soon?” He grabbed Jack by the upper arm and yanked him to his feet. That seemed to wake Jack up, and he ran outside to the golf cart, with the others on his trail. The five of them who were left after Davey and Mush ran off toward their units overloaded the cart, and it sluggishly pulled out of the parking area, painfully slowly.

“Spot,” Specs said, tapping his shoulder. “Let’s just run.” Without even waiting for Jack to slow down, they jumped off of the back of the golf cart and ran as quickly as they could toward the art hut. Without the extra weight, the cart picked up to its full speed and they were left in the dust.

Back on Flushing Hill, the staff were in a flurry, trying to keep the little boys calm while also getting them to move quickly. They had already been put to bed and were sleepy and unnerved from being woken up. They were instructed to grab their blanket or sleeping bag and put on their shoes and then line up outside of the cabins. Davey grabbed the emergency folder from inside his bag and quickly skimmed the fire protocol, refreshing his training. There was a church around half a mile down the road just outside of the camp who had agreed years ago to serve as a refuge point in case of fire. Each unit had a map showing the quickest path to the church, which Davey passed around to the other staff.

As soon as the boys were ready, they lit flashlights and started off into the woods. The trail to the observation deck would get them about halfway there, and then they would cut through the woods to the road and walk down the street the rest of the way. It took some coaxing from the staff to get the kids into the woods after dark, but Albert finally got them to sing camp songs while they walked, which helped lift their spirits some. As they reached the road, they could see a group ahead of them- it looked like the high school boys- with another emerging from the woods a little way behind them.

The lights were all on at the church, and an older couple rushed out to help usher the campers into the gymnasium. During the walk, Davey had been continually doing head counts, and as soon as they were inside, he started a role call- the third of the night. Around the room, he could hear the other counselors doing the same. There was an odd, nervous silence that very rarely fell over the campers, and they got the boys settled as much as possible before the staff gathered together to wait.

The blaze could be seen far away from the art hut, and as they got closer, it only became brighter, bigger, and more obvious that this fire was going to be extremely bad. Jack stopped the cart on the road a little way away from the art hut and he, Crutchie, and Race walked numbly toward the building. The flames were out of control. There was nothing that they can do but hope that the firefighters would arrive soon and that the fire wouldn’t catch the trees surrounding the building and spread.

There was a slight sniff and Jack glanced over at Crutchie, whose face was illuminated eerily in the orange light. His eyes shone with tears, but none fell yet, and he was shaking. Jack reached out and put an arm around Crutchie’s shoulder, pulling him close. His eyes burned- he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke and heat or if he was about to start crying. A hand touched his arm and Jack glanced over to see a very out of breath Specs there, also putting an arm over Crutchie’s shoulder from the other side.

None of them said a word. At one point, the camp flag that hung from the window caught fire and fell to the ground, and Race put his face in his hands. There was a general air of defeat surrounding all of them. The lights and sirens of the fire trucks rang out in the background, growing louder and louder until it was an almost deafening, ear-piercing scream. Firefighters immediately leapt into action, running toward the building. Another ran toward the camp staff gathered there. “Anyone inside?” They all shook their heads. “Where’s a water line?” Jack pointed toward a utility hut between the art hut and dining hall, and several people ran over to it to tap into the water line.

They watched from a safe distance as the firefighters sprayed down the building and trees surrounding it. When the roof collapsed, any hopes of salvaging the art hut were dashed. “I have to sit down,” Crutchie mumbled, and the five of them walked over to the curb, taking a seat.

“What do we do?” Jack asked quietly.

“We need a fucking adult,” Race replied. “A real adult.”

No one knew what to say. After a while- they couldn’t tell how long- the flames were officially doused. Left behind was a black, soaking wet shell of a building. The kiln was damaged but still standing and the kitchen appliances were blackened and warped, but remained standing. The tables, though, were reduced to their metal legs. The plastic chairs had melted, leaving behind their supports. There was no sign at all of the literal decades of camp crafts that had accumulated there, hanging on the walls and from the ceiling. The weaving that Specs did when he was nine was gone. Jack’s paintings were gone. Crutchie’s origami bats were part of the ashes. The summer than Jack broke his ankle at camp, he and Crutchie spent a lot of time together in the art hut. It was how they became friends. They learned to knit and made a long, thin scarf that had draped across a window frame. That scarf was gone.

A fireman approached them. “Is one of you in charge?” Race pointed at Jack. “Okay. The building is definitely beyond repair. We’re going to rope the area off, but you need to make sure no one goes near there.”

“What happened?” Specs asked.

“Probably the wiring,” Crutchie muttered.

The fireman turned to face him. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Crutchie replied sullenly.

The fireman shrugged. “Well, we can’t tell for sure what happened, but an investigator will be out tomorrow.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Jack listened more than he talked, hoping that the others were listening to supplement everything that was washing right over him. As the fireman was explaining insurance protocol, Spot broke into a hacking coughing fit. Race clapped him on the back a few times, but Spot held up a hand. His breaths came in short wheezes and Race reached for Spot’s backpack for his inhaler, but the backpack was still back in Manhattan. The fireman immediately noticed and waved at a woman standing by the truck. “Can we get some oxygen going?” he called to her.

Spot walked shakily to the truck, where an oxygen mask was put over his face. His breath came back to normal soon after, but the woman clearly disapproved of him sticking around. “You should really get out of here if you have asthma,” she said.

“Go on ahead to the church,” Jack said. “We’ll meet you there. I guess.”

Race drove Spot to the church down the road, where they were immediately bombarded by questions from campers and staff alike. Spot just shook his head and pushed through the gymnasium with Race to try to find a private space. As they passed Davey, Spot looked over at him. “Yeah, it’s totally gone,” he said gruffly before brushing by, throat still raw from the asthma attack. “I’m going to bed.”

Chapter Text

Crutchie couldn’t sleep. The image of the art hut- his art hut- set ablaze was burned into his eyelids so that even when he closed his eyes, the picture was there. Being inside the church gymnasium was overwhelming with the energies of all of the campers and staff crammed inside, so Crutchie got up from the small space on the floor that he had claimed for himself and stepped outside.

Clouds had begun to roll in- real clouds instead of smoke plumes- promising rain in the near future. The air felt electrified in the way that it always did before a big storm. He laid down on the sidewalk, but the lights from the church blocked his view of the stars even more than the clouds did. But Crutchie didn’t get up. He breathed in the night air, searching for the sounds that he associated with camp. If he closed his eyes, everything sounded right- the cicadas, the bullfrogs. But that image was still there.

Light footsteps jogged up behind him and Crutchie opened one eye. All he could see was a brown knee poking out from a pair of green shorts. The person bent down to sit next to him. “Hey, Finch,” Crutchie said.

“You okay?” Finch asked. He stretched his legs out in front of him and like Crutchie, tried to look up at the sky.

“Not really.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a while. Neither of them knew what to say. How do you talk to your ex-almost-boyfriend about something so destructive and heartbreaking when you couldn’t even talk about yourself? Finch was the first to break the silence. “Was that a raindrop?” He wiped a bead of water off of his nose.

Crutchie sat up with a jolt when he, too, felt a drop of rain land right by the corner of his eye. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbled as the rain slowly started to fall. It came slowly, and then all at once, as the sky seemed to open up above them. Crutchie dragged himself to his feet and stepped out farther into the rain, looking straight up to the sky and yelling. “Are you serious ? Fuck you! Where was this earlier?! You couldn’t drop some rain before the fucking art hut went and fucking burned down ?” He launched into a screaming tirade directed at the sky before Finch tugged on Crutchie’s arm.

“You can’t fight the clouds,” he said. Crutchie hesitated, looking quickly between Finch and the sky, but with his concentration broken, he felt himself deflating. Almost reflexively, he turned toward Finch, and Finch drew him in close, letting Crutchie finally break down, crying gasping, angry sobs into the front of his tshirt. The rain barrelled down, soaking them both to the bone, and Finch had to squint to try to keep the rain out of his eyes, but soon he elected to just lean his forehead against the top of Crutchie’s head with a sigh.

“I can’t catch a break,” Crutchie said, muffled by the front of Finch’s shirt.

“I know.”

Davey wasn’t sleeping, either. When he saw Crutchie and Specs come in, he pulled out his phone and texted Jack. Are you okay? Everyone else just got back to the church. Where are you? He waited a long time. Jack had never been the best about replying to messages. He was one of those people who found more to be interested in the world around him than in his phone, which Davey had always admired. Now, though, he just wanted an update. After half an hour, he texted again. Just come here when you’re done. You can wake me up- I won’t mind. I love you. There was still no response. The room began to still after a while as the remaining conscious campers and most of the staff went to sleep. Finch and Crutchie came inside, completely soaking wet, but they weren’t paying attention to Davey. Finch grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around the two of them as they left the room, presumably in search of a way to get dry.

I’m going to sleep, Davey texted again. #sorrynotsorry for the triple text. Come get me where you get back here. You’re probably busy. We’ll figure this out.

The texts started to come in a steady stream. When Davey was nervous, he always texted Jack. Even if, like now, Jack wasn’t responding. Nevermind. Can’t sleep. Did you know that snakes are found on every continent except Antarctica? But we don’t know much about Antarctica at all so what if there are all these snow snakes that we just haven’t discovered. These things keep me awake at night.

Actually, I’m just worried about you. Snakes are cold blooded. There are no snow snakes. No, that doesn’t mean you should move to Antarctica to get away from snakes. Shit, it’s late. You’re just asleep, right?

Buildings can be replaced, Jack.

You can’t make me sleep in some Baptist church and then not get in touch with me.

Sorry, that sounded harsh. I’m not mad at you. Am I too clingy? I know you said you like waking up to a bunch of messages from me, but let’s be real here.

Don’t worry about it. I love you. I’ll see you in the morning.

Early the next morning, with the sun barely hanging in the sky, the staff rounded their campers up and made the walk back to camp. There was still a steady rain, but it had gone from the heavy downpour from the night before to a light drizzle. The kitchen staff, who had also evacuated, didn’t have time to cook breakfast, but they set up a breakfast bar of cereals and bagels for the kids. Davey kept an eye out for Jack and ducked back into the dining hall, where he usually took inventory on Friday mornings to prepare for the supply order.

Henry and Pie Eater were back there, counting supplies tiredly. “Have you seen Jack? Davey asked once they were at a stopping point.

“He hasn’t come down yet,” Henry replied.

No matter what kind of bad mood he was in, Jack wasn’t the type to shirk his responsibilities. Davey pulled out his radio. “David to Jack,” he said. There was no response.

On the way back into the dining hall, Albert intercepted Davey. “You want to go check on Jack?” he asked. “We’re just packing today. Go ahead- we’ve got it covered.”

“Thank you,” Davey replied, and turned on his heel and left the dining hall through the back door. He had borrowed Jack’s extra rain jacket ages ago, and zipped the blue jacket up as far as it could go before pulling the hood up over his head. It was a bit short in the arms for his tastes, but otherwise fit just about perfectly. He made the walk towards Admin, stopping briefly at the carnage that was the art hut. There was yellow caution tape surrounding the perimeter and the building was barely recognizable. The porch had burned, but the concrete foundation of the wheelchair ramp was left intact. Davey ducked under the caution tape to the ramp and grabbed a terra cotta flower pot covered in painted handprints. The pot had been full of random weeds that had begun to sprout, but like all of the surrounding vegetation, they had died.

As he passed the directors cabin, Davey glanced at the windows, but there were no lights on inside. He put the flower pot on the steps of the house and continued on his way. At admin, Davey couldn’t see any lights on inside, but the office got enough natural light that Jack left them off a lot of the time anyway. He turned the door handle, but it didn’t budge. Quickly, he rapped on the door with his knuckles, but there was no movement inside. He found Jack’s hidden spare key and let himself in but sure enough, the building was empty.

“Davey to Jack,” he called again over the radio but again, there was no response. After a moment, he tried a different approach. “Davey to admin?” After a second, Specs replied. “Is Jack in Manhattan?”

“No,” Specs said. “We just got back here.”

After steeling himself to go back out into the rain, Davey started back down the hill to the director’s cabin. He let himself in, stepping over the threshold, but instantly knew it was empty. He checked the bedroom anyway, but he would know if Jack was there, and he definitely wasn’t. Davey grabbed the landline on the kitchen counter- a necessity in an area with such poor cell phone reception- and dialed Jack’s number. It went straight to voicemail. “I know you never check your voicemail,” Davey said after Jack’s prerecorded message. “But I’m really worried about you. Just come home, okay? Or just let me know where you are. I don’t know. I love you. Bye.” He sent a text containing roughly the same message, followed by a Facebook message, hoping that maybe wherever Jack was, he had access to a computer.

As he started back out into the rain, Davey caught something out of the corner of his eye. There was a small table on the door where they occasionally left each other messages. On it, there was Jack’s radio, his huge keyring containing all of the camp keys, and a note on a piece of sketchbook paper. Davey- I have to clear my head. I’m fine . Davey scooped everything into his backpack, making sure that the note was hidden deep inside where the rain wouldn’t get to it.

At Manhattan, Spot and Race waited on the porch in the rocking chairs for Davey. Specs and Crutchie were going up to handle check-out, but there wasn’t much to do for the other two except wait for any problems that might arise. “Did you find him?” Race called from his dry spot on the porch.

“No,” Davey replied as he stepped under the awning and pushed his hood down. “He left a note saying he needs to clear his head.

Spot and Race exchanged a look. “You think he ran?” Spot asked.

“What?”

“Did he run away, do you think?” Race clarified.

“No,” Davey replied quickly. “He wouldn’t do that. But…”

“But?” Race prompted.

Davey rifled through his backpack and withdrew the key ring. “He left these. I assume just because we might need them for checkout.” Spot just shook his head. His normal daily level of rage seemed higher than usual. “I’m going to my group. Just… call if you hear anything?” Spot saluted, and Davey started up Flushing hill.

Chapter Text

Jack didn’t show up for the staff meeting. After they were dismissed, Davey found some cell signal and texted him again. This isn’t funny, Jack. Don’t tell me your phone died. I got you that power bank for your birthday so you don’t have an excuse this time. You have a job to do. I’m not going to try to reach you anymore. You can get in touch whenever.

A low whistle came from over Davey’s shoulder. He turned to see Spot standing behind him. “Someone’s in trouble,” Spot said.

“It’s rude to read over peoples’ shoulders.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. You got plans tonight?”

Davey locked his phone and tucked it into his back pocket. “Well, not anymore.”

“Come on,” Spot said. “Me and Race are going out tonight.”

“Yeah, because I want to be the third wheel on that,” Davey said with a small snort.

“Please. Race is the third wheel here.”

They met Race at the parking lot, where he was leaning against his car. “Dave’s coming with us. Did you call CVS?”

Race winced. “Shit. No. I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Do that now,” Spot said firmly. “I’m driving.”

They got into the Jeep while Race called the pharmacy- with Race forced to sit in the back seat. As aggressive as Spot could seem, and as crazy of a driver that Race was, Spot was actually a really good driver. During the off season, Spot had sort of become Davey’s chauffeur.

“When are you getting a car?” Spot asked.

“The end of the summer,” Davey replied. “Hopefully. Jack and I can’t both not have cars.”

“Aren’t you mad at him?” Race asked.

“Furious. Why?”

“You’re still moving in with him?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Davey turned in his seat to face Race as much as he could. “Because we don’t break up every time we hit a snag,” he said. It came out sounding a lot more judgemental than he meant it to.

“Ouch,” Spot said from the driver’s seat. “Any bets on how long it takes Jack to come back?”

“I’m not getting into that,” Davey said.

“Ten bucks on Monday,” Race offered.

“I got Friday,” Spot replied. “Closer wins?” He reached a hand back to the backseat and they shook hands at an awkward angle. “Have you still not been able to reach him?”

“His phone’s off,” Davey said bitterly. “He probably let it die again. But I’m not trying anymore- when he feels like growing up enough to charge his phone and reply to messages, then we can talk.”

He had a good time with Spot and Race. They went to Olive Garden for dinner, where he watched Race consume a shocking quantity of breadsticks while Spot took the phrase “never ending pasta” a bit too seriously. Spot forced Race into a CVS where he picked up a couple of prescriptions while Spot bought Pringles. “How are you still hungry?” he asked Spot.

“I’m a growing boy,” Spot replied as he added another tube to the basket.

“You’re five foot four.”

“And you’re a dead man.”

None of them felt like going back to camp after the trip to the pharmacy, so Spot pulled into a dark park, where a large playground sat empty. They made their way through the different slides, climbing walls, and monkey bars while Davey watched from a swingset. Race made his way easily across the monkey bars, holding his knees up high to avoid having his feet drag the ground. Spot, however, effortlessly did a few chin-ups on each rung, showing off before swinging a bit on the last rung, gathering momentum, and executing a flip before hitting the ground.

“How do you do that?” Davey asked, looking up from his phone.

Spot shrugged. “He did gymnastics,” Race replied for him before tackling Spot to the ground. Davey glanced back at his phone to avoid watching the display of PDA in front of him.

Spot pulled himself away from Race after a couple of minutes and stalked over to Davey, yanking the phone out of his hand. “You’re not texting Jack, are you?” he glanced at the phone, where the messages app was open and a half-composed text waited to be sent. “I can’t let you do that.” He held down the backspace, erasing the message.

Specs didn’t take the weekend off. With Jack gone, someone had to run things, so he stepped up to do the job. He had to deal with the fire inspector, insurance agencies, speaking with the board, planning the adult camp, making fundraising calls, and planning out the next week of camp. They would have to make an emergency art supply order, which Jack had to sign off on, but Specs prepared the order.

His head was pounding from stress and exhaustion and staring at the admin computer screen. There was a bottle of ibuprofen and a water bottle next to the keyboard, but around ten PM on Saturday night, he knew he needed to take a break. Outside on the deck, the air was crisp and fresh and he closed his eyes, breathing in the night air. Fireflies sparked periodically around him and Specs took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes.

For a while there, Specs’ social problems at camp had pretty much cleared up. He was surrounded by friends, included in everything going on, and felt like he had a real handle on his responsibilities. Now, though, things had gone back to much of the same from the early part of the summer. Specs was spending more and more time alone and didn’t ask for help from anyone. He could handle it and didn’t need to bother anyone with work that he should be able to do on his own. Crutchie, who had become sort of his closest friend and confidant during the summer, had started to spend a lot of time with Finch, Mush was busy with campers and a bit depressed about the art hut, and JoJo had gotten a stomach bug the week before and spent the latter half of the week quarantined in the infirmary.

When he came back inside, a red light flashed on the phone, indicating a new voicemail. He dialed the phone’s password and listened to the long, loud message. Once it was over, he saved the message and shook his head. “Goddammit, Jack…”

Davey, Race, and Crutchie made it up to Admin early Sunday morning, anticipating that they would probably need some help getting ready without Jack there. They found Specs alone inside, passed out over the desk with his head on his arms. Race shook him awake and Specs jolted upright. “Shit,” he groaned.

“The fuck are you doing?” Race asked.

“I fell asleep.”

“Yeah,” Crutchie said. “We can see that.” He started gathering the papers that Specs had laid out everywhere. “You should go get some real sleep before campers show up.”

“I have to get ready for check-in,” he said sleepily.

“You’ve done enough,” Davey said. “We can take it from here. No word from Jack, I assume?”

“Oh!” Specs hit the password on the phone and navigated to the saved message, putting the phone on speaker so they could all hear.

A loud voice was on the other end of the line. “Hi, boys! This is Medda. I think I have something that belongs to you. It showed up on my doorstep with a can of paint and started painting my porch green. And green really doesn’t go with the rest of the house, so now I’ve got him going back over it with white. Unless- maybe I could go for a charcoal color? I’ll ask Jack what he thinks. Anyway , he needs a little time so I’ll keep an eye on him, but I made a few calls so you should be getting a bit of extra help. Okay, I have to go. Bye!!!”

Medda, who had been the camp’s nurse the year before, had decided to go to med school to become a doctor and didn’t really have time to take off the entire summer, so she had stepped away. Davey grimaced in the silence following the call. “I’m going to murder him,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m going to lose the bet,” Race said sadly.

They convinced Specs to go back to Manhattan for a nap and finished the rest of the prep for the week. There wasn’t a lot left to do- Specs had handled almost everything and, like everything he did, it was meticulously organized and perfectly finished. Staff started to trickle in, and Race filled Spot in on the voicemail.

Race called the meeting to order. “Alright, losers. You all know by now, the art hut’s gone. And so are all of the supplies except like… a box of beads we found in the lodge closet and some crayons. So unless you can work with that or you feel like making crafts out of sticks, you’re going to want to avoid scheduling art hut time.”

“Where’s Jack?” Blink interrupted.

Race hesitated. “He ran off,” Spot replied, anger burning throughout every word. “So we’re on our own this week. If you need Jack for something… find someone else, ‘cause he ain’t here to help.” An awkward, uncomfortable energy fell over the room.

“Uh, anyway,” Race said, trying to take back control. “We have your rosters and shit. So… get to scheduling.” He passed out the rosters that Specs had prepared the night before. Specs decided to keep the groups easy by giving the staff the age group that they worked best with. Woodside had high school boys, Flushing had middle school, and Harlem had the little kids.

During scheduling, the bell over the front door rang and everyone looked up in time to see a man in his late thirties wearing a faded Camp Mountain Ridge tshirt. Davey had never seen him before, but a majority of the staff were on their feet in a flash, running over to greet the man. Only the newer staff members were left behind. After everyone had a chance to say hi, the staff started to come back to their scheduling. He peeked his head in the door. “Can I talk to admin and ULs for a minute?”

Davey got up and met the staff in the office area. Everyone there seemed to know the man, and he turned to Davey with a hand stuck out. “Bryan Denton,” he said. “But my camp name is Drowsy.” Immediately, Davey knew exactly who he was. Jack talked about Drowsy all the time- he had been camp director before Joe Pulitzer, and Jack loved him.

Davey shook his hand. “David,” he replied.

“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” Drowsy said. “Anyway, Medda called me in to help out for a little while. I don’t want to step on your toes- just let me know what I need to do and I’ll do it. And-” he trailed off, leaning backwards to look out the window. “Oh, I think the other help just got here. I can’t stay for long- a week, tops- this is actually technically my vacation.”

The front door slammed open, hitting the wall, and a blur of a person ran in. “ Where’s my boy ?” Romeo yelled.

Chapter Text

Everyone gathered there froze in shock before rushing toward Romeo, crowding him with hugs, slaps on the back, handshakes, and in Mush’s case, a brief piggyback ride. When things settled down a bit, Romeo looked around the room. “Seriously, though. Where’s my boy?”

“Specs is in Manhattan,” Crutchie said. Romeo pouted. They assigned Drowsy and Romeo to check-in duty, and the others would manage coverage within the camp.

“Should I call Medda?” Davey asked Spot when he took his group’s schedule up to him to sign up for water activities.

Spot looked up sharply. “Hell no,” he said quickly. “You’ve got to show him you don’t need him so he comes crawling back.”

“Where do you get this stuff?”

Spot shrugged. “Because Race is petty as fuck and I have to be ready for it.” Race, who was walking by on the way to check on archery times with Sniper, smacked him over the back of the head.

After the meeting was adjourned, Romeo beat everyone to Manhattan, where Specs was still asleep. He crept through the house, trying not to wake him, and into the room that Specs and Crutchie shared. Romeo watched as he slept for a while, gauging the situation, before climbing gingerly onto the chair near the bed. After making sure that Specs’ legs weren’t in the way, he leapt onto the bed, yelling.

Specs awoke with a scream and instinctively knocked Romeo’s legs out from under him, sending him careening to the ground. “Ro?!” he yelled, leaning over the side of the bed. In a flash, Specs was dragging Romeo to his feet for a tight hug. Romeo’s feet left the ground as Specs spun him around.

“Put me down!” he gasped between laughs.

Specs dropped Romeo. “Why are you here?”

“I’m helping out!”

“For how long?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Romeo replied cagily.

Specs threw up his hands and grabbed Romeo’s shoulders. “Yes! Yes, I would really like to know!”

“Don’t tell anyone,” said Romeo, holding a finger to his lips. “But maybe the rest of the summer. I’m going to talk to Jack… or I guess whoever’s in charge… wait, would that be you? Can I stay the rest of the summer?”

“ Hell yes. What about your internship?”

Romeo shrugged. “I left. My boss was like… I don’t know. For someone running a speech therapy center, he was a real dick to kids with disabilities. Not really who I want to be learning from. I’ll find somewhere better next semester.”

Specs tousled Romeo’s hair fondly. “You’re one of the good ones,” he said.

Specs and Romeo entered the dining hall where the guys had gathered for lunch before their campers came triumphantly, arm in arm. At a table off to the left side of the hall, York leaned over his food and asked Blink and Mush quietly. “So, who is that guy?”

“Romeo,” Blink replied around a mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich.

“Chew,” York said. “Swallow. Try again.”

Blink swallowed, washing it down with a sip of Gatorade. “That’s Romeo. He’s Specs’... boyfriend?” He trailed off, looking to Mush for clarification.

“No,” Mush replied. “They broke up. Best friend, I guess.”

Nodding, Blink continued. “Yeah, he used to work here.”

York picked at his sandwich. “This needs ketchup,” he announced before getting up to find some.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Mush grabbed Blink’s arm. “Have you told him yet ?” he whispered.

“Nope!”

“ Bro . You’ve gotta!”

Blink shook his head quickly. “I don’t gotta do nothing!”

“If you don’t tell him, maybe I will!”

“No!”

“What are you telling someone?” York asked, returning with a handful of ketchup packets.

“Uh…” Blink hesitated. He leaned over the table and pointed at a spot on York’s shirt. “You have mustard on your shirt.”

York squinted at Blink. “I’m not looking down. You’re going to do that thing where you flick my nose or whatever.”

“No,” Mush said. “You really have mustard on your shirt.”

“Nice try. I don’t eat mustard.”

Blink sighed. “Can you just make me a list of all the shit you don’t eat?”

“I’ll get to work on that.”

Check-in went extremely smoothly. More smoothly, in fact, than it had all summer. No one was sure if this was because of Drowsy’s presence, Specs’ overpreparedness, or just general good luck, but no one was complaining, either.

Bedtime came around and they got the boys into bed. Davey passed York, who was writing something in a notebook. He wasn’t trying to read it, but the words “carrots” and “mustard” jumped out at him. “What are you writing?” Davey asked.

York jumped. “Nothing,” he said. “God, you can’t just sneak up on my blind side.”

“Sorry.” He took a moment, listening for and kids stirring. “I’m going for a walk. Just call if you need me.” Davey had been feeling restless all day. He was so, so angry with Jack. For running off, for not answering his phone, for not warning anyone- he couldn’t stop stewing in his anger.

But more than that, he really missed Jack. And he was worried. Things had been going so well- he still caught himself daydreaming about life after they moved in together- but he also knew that Jack had a tendency to shut himself off, disappear, and spiral out of control. Knowing that he was at Medda’s was a relief- she was as close to a parent as he really had, and would make sure that nothing bad happened.

He walked aimlessly, eventually finding himself up the hill near the observation deck. He took a seat on the deck and sighed, leaning his head against the railing, looking out toward the lake where the stars reflected on the water. The frogs sang mournfully out of sight in the dark. The movement of something small on the ground in front of the deck caught Davey’s attention and he listened for a while before shining a light down at the ground.

It took a moment to find the source of the movement, but Davey finally spotted a small, thin snake with a line running down its length. His breath caught slightly in his throat, remembering his first trip up to the observation deck with Jack. Looking back, it still felt like the moment when Davey really saw Jack clearly.

He shimmied through the railings of the deck and dropped down as softly as he could to avoid disturbing the snake. Carefully, he reached down and picked it up, holding it gently as it sniffed at his hand, tiny tongue darting out repeatedly. “Hey, bud,” he said softly, walking carefully, trying not to jostle the snake, back onto the observation deck. It started to wind around Davey’s head and forearm while Davey directed it.

A rustling in the trees startled Davey out of the serene state that he had drifted into. He stood up from his seat on the floor, facing the source of the noise as he reached for his flashlight. Without taking his eyes off of the treeline, he flashed the light on, revealing someone in the woods, holding up a hand to block the light. “ Jack ,” Davey gasped, collecting himself.

“Happy to see me?” Jack asked as he stepped out of the woods. He picked a couple of twigs off of his hat.

“I thought you were a bear.”

“No, I’m not much of a bear,” Jack replied thoughtfully before flashing Davey a wry smile.

Davey didn’t make any moves toward Jack. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check in on things.”

“No,” Davey replied, shaking his head. “What are you doing here , in the woods.”

“Oh! I cut through from the road.” He rubbed a hand nervously across the back of his neck. “I, uh, didn’t really want to be seen. I mean, of course I wanted to see you! I was going to try to come get you! I just-”

Davey cut him off. “Do you have any idea how pissed I am at you?” he asked. “Like, any idea at all ?”

Jack bit his lip and glanced at the ground. “I think I can guess,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You just ran off! And then you wouldn’t even answer me to tell me where you were?”

“Oh, yeah-” he stopped short. “Are you holding a snake?”

“Yes,” Davey replied shortly. “Continue.”

“But why are you holding a snake?”

“Because I like snakes. Keep talking.”

Jack reached into his back pocket and pulled his phone out. The screen had been cracked for months, but it was completely shattered now and after hitting the home button, it stayed completely black. “I kind of threw it in the creek. Immediate regret. I’ll get a new one soon, I promise.” He glanced nervously at the snake in Davey’s hand. “Can you please put the snake down?”

Davey grimaced and let it go where he found it. “I’m only letting it go because it was getting stressed out. Not because you asked me to.” Jack nodded and they stood in silence, watching each other, before Jack started to walk toward Davey purposefully. “No,” Davey snapped. “You have no idea how worried I was about you.”

“I know-”

Davey held up a finger. “No, I’m going to go ahead and give you the benefit of the doubt because if you actually knew how worried I was and did it anyway, then that’s just fucked up. You ran out on all of us . I get that you’re upset, okay? But you’re not the only person here upset about everything. Crutchie was freaking out, Specs has been working himself to death to keep up- he took care of all of the stuff that you’ve been putting off all summer, by the way. Spot might actually kill you.”

“I just needed some space,” Jack said quietly.

“There are people counting on you, Jack. Even if you needed to take off, you should have told someone!”

“I left a note.”

Davey threw up his hands. By this point, his voice was raised. “Your note didn’t explain shit! You didn’t even leave it somewhere I go that much! I might’ve never found it.”

Jack’s face fell and Davey could hardly remember a time that he had ever looked sadder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you’d be so mad.” He started to walk past Davey to the observation deck, but Davey grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him.

Davey put his hands on either side of Jack’s face and leaned in to kiss him, briefly sinking into it. One of Jack’s arms slid around the back of Davey’s neck as they kissed, sloppy, noses bumping together, with a note of desperation. Davey pulled back sharply after a minute. “I was mad because I love you, asshole.” He lightly pushed Jack backwards and turned, stalking angrily to the edge of the observation deck where he sat down, legs dangling over the side. Jack cautiously sat beside him, leaving a few feet of space between the two of them as they stared off toward the lake in silence.

Jack started to inch toward Davey until they were only a few inches apart. When Davey didn’t move away, Jack turned and leaned his forehead into Davey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quietly. Davey still didn’t move, until he felt something against his shoulder and heard Jack sniff slightly. He reached around, wrapping both arms around Jack while Jack cried. “I don’t know how to do this.” He sniffed loudly, trying to hold in the tears, blinking furiously, but when Davey reached up to run his fingers through Jack’s hair, he broke down.

Chapter Text

Davey held Jack like that for a long time until he was able to pull himself together. He pulled away, eyes red, and tugged at Davey’s sleeve. “I got snot on your shirt.”

“I guess you’ll be buying me a new shirt,” Davey teased.

“I’ll buy you a hundred new shirts.”

“That seems like an unwise use of your money. As your financial advisor, I would warn you not to do that.”

Jack’s smile fell. “I think I have to quit,” he said quietly.

“What? You can’t quit.”

“I’m running the place into the ground, Dave.”

Davey shook his head quickly. “No. The problems the camp has are things you inherited. The buildings were already worn down, the electrical in the art hut was already shoddy…”

“So it was an electrical fire?”

“Yeah. Fire inspector came by while you were gone.”

Jack ran his hands over his face. “There’s just so much . Specs can do a better job than me. You said he took care of all my stuff?”

“Specs doesn’t want your job! He hardly slept. He’s is organized and all that, but he’s too much of a perfectionist,” Davey explained.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “ You’re saying there’s such a thing as too perfect? You?”

“Believe it or not.”

Jack rubbed at his eyes. “I have a headache.”

“Yeah, “Davey said, standing up. “You just cried for half an hour. That happens.” He reached out a hand to help Jack to his feet. “Come on- it’s late.”

Jack stood up, but hesitated. “I’m not going back down there,” he said.

“ What ?”

“I can’t! I told you, I can’t do this. They can hire Drowsy back or something, I don’t know.”

Davey stared, dumbfounded, at Jack. “Tell me how quitting does any of us any good. I mean, honestly. Let’s say hypothetically, you quit. Either they hire Specs as director and he has a mental breakdown or they have to do a job search for the next person. During that, we don’t have a director, so you’re going between Specs and Race trying to run the place without you running interference between them. They finally hire someone, and that person doesn’t know anything about the camp and they get shoved in here just before a huge fundraiser with no preparation. The adult camp turns out to be a mess and regular camp falls behind because of that. With that falling-”

Jack held up a hand. “Stop. You made your point.”

“This place needs you, Jack. We all need you here. Besides,” he continued sternly. “You promised me a rent-free directors cabin and if you quit, we’ll have to find a lease somewhere.”

“You only want me for my house,” Jack said with a slight smile.

“Yeah. I need someone to support me while-” he stopped short. “So, I have kind of a surprise.”

“What?”

“I’m going back to school.” A wide grin started to spread across Jack’s face. “Uh, just part time in town while I work, you know. But I just recently found out- I’m going to vet school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Davey shrugged. “I knew you’d be excited. And I didn’t want you to be disappointed if I didn’t get in. It can be kind of hard coming from an undergrad in business instead of biology or something like that.”

“ Doctor Davey .”

“I’m nowhere near being a doctor,” Davey corrected. “We can talk about it more when you get back to work.”

Jack walked over to the edge of the observation deck and leaned on the railing overlooking the lake. “Yeah… I’m not ready to leave this place, I don’t think.” He turned to look back at Davey. “I really can’t stay tonight, though. I borrowed Medda’s car and it’s parked on the side of the road right now.”

“We’ve got to get a car.”

“I have to get a new phone first,” Jack added. “I’m going to do that tomorrow. I’ll text you as soon as I have it.”

“If I don’t see you by dinner tomorrow, I’m going to personally show up to Medda’s house and kill you.”

Jack laughed. “You got it, Davey baby. Oh, and- if you could not tell anyone about the whole…” he gestured to his face, which was still a bit red and puffy. “That would be great.”

They parted ways with Jack ducking back into the woods and Davey starting down the hill to Flushing. It was extremely late, and he knew he would feel it in the morning. None of the campers were stirring, and when he slowly opened the cabin door, Albert, Elmer, and York were all fast asleep. Davey tiptoed around the cabin, getting ready for bed and then passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The morning was, as Davey expected it to be, rough . He didn’t mention having seen Jack to anyone- in fact, he didn’t say much of anything to anyone. It was a case of “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”. After staying up until after two AM and getting up at seven, he had absolutely nothing nice to say.

Spot met him at the coffee bar as Davey was pouring his second cup of the morning. “You look like shit,” Spot said bluntly.

“Good morning to you too,” Davey replied, stirring a sugar packet in.

“Just letting you know.”

“ Thanks .” It was hard to get mad at Spot, even when he was a complete jerk. The fact that he had become Davey’s best friend (aside from Sarah and Jack) helped, but there was something about his demeanor. He was always grumpy and blunt and rude, so you knew to expect it. And if he said it to your face instead of making snide comments to his inner circle, then there was a certain level of respect there. It was something that had taken Davey months of repeatedly hurt feelings to realize.

The middle school boys went to archery first thing in the morning after breakfast, which was a huge relief, since Sniper handled everything there. Staff mostly just tried to keep the campers who weren’t shooting at the moment entertained. Davey threw his “I like coffee but I don’t like tea” riddle to the group, though, and they busied themselves with that, leaving him to let his mind drift tiredly.

York had the first break of the day and wandered down to Woodside, where he knew Blink was also on break. They had coordinated a few days- whenever Blink didn’t share a break with Mush, he had scheduled it to coincide with York’s. Blink’s group of high school boys were off at an activity somewhere, and Blink had strung a red hammock across a couple of trees, where he was lying, reading a copy of Jurassic Park , which York had lent him. When he heard York’s footsteps on the gravel road there, Blink sat up, marking his page with a leaf. “Morning,” he said.

“How do you like the book?” York asked.

“I haven’t gotten to the dinosaurs yet.” He swung his legs out of the hammock and moved over so that there was room for York, and patted the hammock. York got in, and it sank slightly under both of their weights. The boys glanced quickly at the trees that were holding them up, but they seemed sturdy. Reaching into his pocket, York handed Blink a folded sheet of paper. “What’s this?”

“Really shitty origami,” York deadpanned.

Blink unfolded the paper and took a moment to process what was on the page. “You actually made a list of food you don’t like.” York nodded. “This is so long, what the fuck.”

“Allergies are starred with an asterisk.”

They took a while going through the list, with Blink pausing every now and then to have York clarify things. “French toast? Really?”

“Bread isn’t meant to be dipped in eggs. It’s weird and soggy.”

“Brussels sprouts. Okay, but have you ever had good ones? Not boiled or steamed or whatever, but like… roasted, with a bit of olive oil and-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” York said, holding up a hand. “They’re tiny cabbages and cabbage is gross and brussels sprouts are worse because they’re just trying to be something they’re not.”

“Sour Skittles?”

“They hurt my mouth.”

Blink read on until pausing on one item. He snorted a laugh. “‘Anything from Joe’s Crab Shack, just on principle’”, he read. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s a nightmarish hellscape and I won’t support it.”

Blink shook his head. He looked straight at York with a serious expression. “Hey, I like you. I mean, just so you know.” It was clear by his tone and the way that he tensed up immediately that he wasn’t talking about how much he enjoyed York’s platonic company. York furrowed his brows, looking down in deep concentration. Blink hesitated. “Uh…” he prompted. York held up a single finger while he thought.

After a gut wrenchingly long moment (for Blink, at least), York looked back up. “‘The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.’”

A slow smile spread across Blink’s face like the sun rising the morning after a big storm- triumphant and bright. “Who was that?”

“Rumi.”

“How do you always remember this stuff?”

“It’s a gift.” York stopped to take a breath before launching into a monologue. “‘The tropical rain fell in drenching sheets, hammering the corrugated roof of the clinic building, roaring down the metal gutters, splashing on the ground in a torrent. Roberta Carter sighed, and stared out the window. From the clinic, she could hardly see-’”

“Stop quoting Jurassic Park at me,” Blink interrupted. “And kiss me or something, Jesus Christ.”

And so, York did.

Around noon, Davey’s phone vibrated in his backpack. He pulled it out where campers couldn’t see and opened a text from Jack. just got all your texts. yikes. be there soon. A string of seemingly random emojis followed.

Jack made it back to camp by about three thirty. Medda dropped him off and he went straight to the director’s cabin to drop a few things off and paused at the steps, noticing the flower pot that Davey had salvaged from the wreckage of the fire. It was covered in handprints, slightly smaller than his hands were now, with names written inside the prints. “Mush”. “Crutchie”. “Specs”. “Cowboy”. Around the rim, the words “Camp Mountain Ridge 2009” were painted. Jack smiled and turned to start the walk of shame up to admin. He texted Davey as he walked, waiting for his new phone to glean enough signal to send it. im back. i left you something in the house when you get a chance. kitchen counter .

Drowsy’s car was parked outside the admin building and Jack climbed the steps slowly, feeling like there were rocks in the pit of his stomach. When he opened the door, Drowsy looked up from a stack of papers he was filing. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said jokingly.

“Uh, hi,” Jack said sheepishly. He hesitated and Drowsy watched him, waiting expectantly. “I need help. I need you to teach me how to do all this.”

Drowsy put down the papers. “Well, I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Text

For the rest of the week, Jack followed Drowsy around like a six foot tall duckling. He asked Drowsy questions about everything he could possibly think of, and Drowsy offered nuggets of camp wisdom any chance he could get. Jack learned about getting good deals on maintenance services, organizing the camp’s finances, and talking to parents. Meanwhile, the adult camp was only two weeks away, and because of Specs’ preparation from his manic weekend of work, they were almost completely ready for it. Ticket preorders were set to begin on Friday, which Jack hoped would get him his $5000 to satisfy the board. It was more vital than ever that the fundraiser was successful, because they now needed a new art hut.

Drowsy also helped with that. The camp had insurance, which wouldn’t cover the entire building, but would go a long way toward getting one. Race had the vaguely morbid thought that they should host a funeral for the art hut during the adult camp.

On the day that Jack returned to the camp, Davey walked down to the director’s cabin during his break, letting himself in. The lights were off, but he could see a large painted canvas on the counter. In the dark, it looked like Jack had just painted a canvas completely black. After he turned on the lights, though, details started to come out. It was dark, made up of silhouettes facing a dark nighttime landscape. It took Davey a minute to process, but the painting showed the silhouette of a man with his back turned, leaning over a railing and holding what looked like a snake on his right arm. A dark lake glistened slightly in the background, barely distinguishable from the silhouettes, dotted with the bright reflections of the stars and the sliver of a crescent moon in the sky. The scene was serene, but lonely. There was a sticky note on the bottom corner of the painting in Jack’s handwriting, which just said turn over .

Carefully, Davey turned the canvas, revealing what looked like nearly the same scene as a mirror image, like it had been traced from the front side. This side, though, was alight with warm, bright colors. While the front side was night, this was daytime, maybe near sunset, on an Autumn day when the leaves were at their peak. Instead of the man in the painting facing the lake, there were now two, unmistakably Jack and Davey, sitting side by side on the observation deck with the lake ahead of them. Painting Jack was nearly doubled over in laughter while Painting Davey looked at him with what was obviously a fake stern expression.

Davey found himself overcome with emotion and had to take a few deep, bracing breaths. He had always loved Jack’s art- way more than Jack did. But this was unlike anything he had ever painted before. His practical side immediately started wondering how the hell he was supposed to display a two sided painting, but his romantic side was currently melted into the cracks in the floorboards. He wandered aimlessly around the house for a while, tidying things up. Jack was staying in Manhattan during the week, but he and Davey had been staying in the director’s cabin during weekends. There wasn’t much that needed to be cleaned. A few of Jack’s towels had been left on the floor, the bed was unmade, and there were a couple of mugs on the drying rack.

When things were as spotless as they were going to get, Davey hit the call button on his radio. “Davey to Jack,” he said.

Jack answered quickly. “This is Jack.”

“What’s your location?”

“In my office.”

Davey made the short walk up to the office. By this point in the summer, he was in pretty decent shape from walking so many hills, and was barely out of breath by the time he got inside. Jack and Drowsy were in Jack’s office, going through a thick binder. Davey knocked on the doorframe. Jack and Drowsy looked up, and Drowsy immediately stood. “I forgot- the kitchen guys wanted help unloading the shipment. Gotta go!”

“Good guy,” Davey said after the door closed behind him.

Jack watched Davey in anticipation. “Did you see what I made?” he asked.

“I think it’s the best thing you’ve ever painted.”

“I kind of thought so, too,” Jack replied with a grin. Within two seconds, Davey had crossed the room to the place where Jack was sitting on the floor and had him pinned down, kissing Jack. “So did you like it?” Jack asked breathlessly as soon as Davey let him have a moment to talk.

“How the fuck,” Davey said as he moved his lips to Jack’s neck, “Am I supposed to display a two sided painting?”

“You’re smart, you figure it out.” Jack pulled Davey’s face back to his, and they spent the rest of Davey’s break there.

That night, Jack walked into Manhattan, whistling. His mood was better than it had been in weeks. Spot and Race were in the living room, playing a game of Mario Kart while trading trash talk while Specs and Romeo worked in the kitchen. It smelled like they were baking cookies. In the room that Jack shared with Race, Crutchie was moving all of Race’s stuff, tossing it onto the top bunk. “What’s up, Chadwick?” Jack asked.

“Chadwick Boseman?” Crutchie said. “Nice. I’m moving Race to the top bunk.”

Jack spotted Crutchie’s duffel bag in the corner of the room, but wanted confirmation of what he thought was happening. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m not taking the top bunk,” Crutchie replied. “And he lost a coin toss.” He tossed Race’s pillow up to the top bunk, clearing the bed. “I gave Romeo my bunk.”

As if on cue, there was a clatter of pans in the kitchen and they could hear Specs yelling at Romeo while laughing. “You used salt , you dingus! How do you do that!?”

Romeo’s wheezing laugh echoed through the building. “They look the same!”

“Look at this bag! What does it say? Salt!”

Crutchie grinned as he started putting a fitted sheet on his bunk. “Kind of feels like things are going back to normal, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “It does. Sorry about the fart hut.”

Crutchie shrugged. His smile was sad, but not overwhelmingly so. “It’s just a building, you know?”

“Yeah. And also… sorry I left.”

“Well, you’re an idiot, so that’s no surprise,” Crutchie replied, rolling his eyes.

Jack snorted. “Do you want to go canoeing tonight?” he asked. “Just us.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the boss?”

“We’re… testing the integrity of the structure of the boat.”

“Deal.”

After Crutchie left to go lead a crafts activity in the lodge for Davey’s group, Jack made his way out of the cabin. He needed to go check on the waterfall and make sure that the locals hadn’t been sneaking down there again. As he left, Jack heard Spot say “Hang on, pause” to Race. Spot followed Jack outside. “Hey, Kelly,” he said.

Jack stopped. “What’s up, Spot?”

Spot stood there, arms crossed, face unsmiling. “I know you’re back and everything’s cool now, or whatever. But I’m not going to forget you turning tail and running off the first time there was any trouble.” Jack looked slightly downward, toward Spot’s shoes. “That was cowardly and stupid . We all had to pick up your slack, and you have no idea how fucked up Dave was over it.”

Jack nodded slowly, turning Spot’s words over in his head. “Thank you,” he finally said. Spot raised an eyebrow. “For watching out for Davey. You’re a surprisingly decent friend.”

“This ain’t about watching out for him. He can handle himself.”

“I know that,” Jack replied. “I just mean… I don’t know. Keep it up.”

Spot’s expression didn’t relax. He stood and watched as Jack got into the golf cart, and continued watching angrily until he was out of sight. Race stuck his head out the door. “What’s taking you so long?” he whined.

“Just trying to let Jack know what the deal is,” Spot said.

Race rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “You’re so dramatic.”

Spot finally turned around and stalked back inside. “One more game. I have to go guard.”

Mush sat at the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the shallow end while his campers played in the water. Occasionally, one would jump in a bit too close to him, so he was fairly soaked, but it was a hot day and his clothes were drying quickly. Buttons and Itey sat by the deep end, talking to a couple of the more advanced swimmers who had passed their swim tests. Generally, the younger groups had more kids fail the swim test than pass, so the shallow end was crowded. Boots was up in the lifeguard chair, surveying the pool, while Spot paced barefoot along the edge of the shallow end.

Two especially tiny boys rushed as quickly as they could without running to Mush. “We need to pee,” one of them said. The other was sort of dancing in place.

“Thank you for not peeing in the pool,” Mush said seriously. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” The boys nodded. “Okay, go ahead. Walk!” he called after them as the boys scurried away. He went back to watching his campers in the pool. Itey had dragged a bunch of pool noodles out, so there were lots of technicolor noodles being waved around.

An ear-splitting shriek rang out from the directions of the bathrooms and Mush jolted to attention. Spot motioned for him to go check on things. He pulled his legs out of the pool and walked quickly toward the bathrooms where one of the boys was standing shakily outside one of the bathrooms. “What’s wrong?” Mush asked.

“There’s a really big spider in there!”

Mush stepped into the bathroom and looked where the boy had pointed, but the really big spider turned out to be nothing. He picked the bug up by one leg and placed it in the palm of his hand. “Look, it’s just a daddy long legs.”

The other boy, who had just come out of the other bathroom, nodded gravely. “You know they’re the most poisonous spider in the world. Their mouth is just too little to bite you.” The other boy flinched away from Mush and the daddy long legs.

“Actually, that’s a myth,” Mush said. “They’re not venomous at all. They’re actually not even technically spiders. Let’s just put him somewhere safe.” The campers watched while Mush gently released the daddy long legs outside of the pool area in the grass.

A whistle blew at the pool, then another, then another. Mush turned quickly to see Boots jumping into the deep end with Spot following just behind. Itey and Buttons were working to get the campers out of the pool as quickly as possible. Mush pointed at a picnic table nearby. “Go sit there,” he said to the boys that he was with. “And don’t move!” He ran into the pool area and helped with herding the children out of the pool. As he directed them to the closest ladder or stairs, he could see Spot dive below the water while Boots waited at the surface, treading water with his lifeguard tube ready.

Within seconds, Spot was back up with a little boy who, after a moment of concentration, Mush recognized to be a boy named Xander. Spot passed Xander to Boots, who started to swim on his back while holding Xander’s head out of the water, while Spot swam ahead and climbed out of the pool. Together, they got the boy out of the water and the counselors stood in horrified anticipation as they waited for Xander to move. A second stretched into an eternity but finally, Xander coughed. Spot and Boots helped him cough the water out until he was breathing fine again. Buttons came forward with a towel, which they wrapped around Xander’s shoulders. His tiny frame was shaking and goose bumps had risen to the surface of his skin.

“You okay?” Spot asked. The boy nodded, then started to cry. “What happened?” Xander’s tears showed no signs of stopping and only grew louder until he was once again gasping for air.

Mush looked at Buttons. “There’s a thing of bubbles in the front pocket of my backpack. Grab it for me?” Buttons rummaged through Mush’s backpack and came back with a purple bottle, which they handed over to Mush. Mush unscrewed the lid and blew a couple of test bubbles to catch Xander’s attention. “Do you want to try?” he asked, blowing a few more bubbles. Xander, who was still crying heavily, nodded shakily. He blew into the bubble wand but his breath was too erratic and he only succeeded in making soap fly off of the want. “Try again, it’s okay!” Again and again he tried with Mush coaching him. “You just have to breathe really steadily. Nice and slow. There you go… you got it!” Three small bubbles floated away from Xander, whose eyes, which were red rimmed and wet, lit up slightly.

They kept blowing bubbles until Xander had stopped crying and was trying to catch the bubbles on the wand. His breathing was completely back to normal. “Can you tell me what happened?” Mush asked gently.

“I wanted to go in the deep end,” Xander said. Mush glanced at his wrist, where all of the kids had color coded wristbands that marked their swim levels. There was nothing there.

“Where’s your swim band?” Xander looked at the ground and seemed to shrink into himself. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I took it off,” he replied.

“Was that a smart choice?” Mush asked.

“No…”

Mush shook his head. “What would be a smart choice?”

“Staying in the shallow end,” Xander replied quietly.

“Yeah, I think so. We can do that next time. Now, what do you say to Spot and Boots?”

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome!” Boots said. Spot said nothing.

“Okay, Xander,” Mush continued. “Go on ahead and get dressed. It’s almost time to get ready for dinner. I heard there’s mac and cheese tonight.” Xander clutched the towel tightly around himself and walked carefully to the changing rooms.

“How’d you do that?” Buttons asked.

Mush started screwing the lid back on the bottle of bubbles. “Blowing bubbles cheers them up and distracts them, but it also forces them to calm their breathing. Good for crying, tantrums, and panic attacks.”

“Are you going to take away his swim time or anything?” Spot asked.

Mush shook his head. “He’s seven years old and he just about drowned. I think he’s been punished enough.”

At dinner, Spot hardly touched his food. Race was sitting at the next table over but noticed him looking downward at the mac and cheese and veggie dog on his plate. He waited until Spot looked up to catch his eye and jerked his head toward the door before getting up and stepping outside. Spot waited a second and then followed. “What’s wrong?” Race asked, leaning against the wall.

“Had to make a save today,” Spot replied. “Some kid snuck into the deep end and went under.”

“Shit, man. He alright?” Spot nodded. Race studied him for a moment, noting the concern in Spot’s eyes. Spot had never been great at expressing himself. He wasn’t the nurturing type. But Race knew, even if they hadn’t talked about it, that the reason that Spot threw himself so wholeheartedly into lifeguarding was because of how much he cared about the safety of the campers. He took every single incident deeply to heart, and still refused to even talk about about the day that Race hit his head in the pool and had to go to the hospital. “You did good, okay?” Again, Spot just nodded. “Jack’s going out with Crutchie tonight. Come by Manhattan later. We can watch a movie or something.”

“No Kardashians,” Spot said firmly.

“Not even a cameo?”

“No.”

Chapter Text

Fourth of July weekend rolled around quickly, and they ended the week with a spectacular fireworks display led by Elmer and Romeo on Thursday night. At the staff meeting on Friday, Jack reminded them of the adult camp, which would be the next weekend, and then officially ended the meeting before looking at Blink and Mush, who immediately leapt to their feet. “Red, White, and Blonde party tonight! Be there!” Mush played a remix of the national anthem on his phone while Blink made terrible beatboxing noises.
When they finally settled, Spot cleared his throat. “What?” he asked in an irritable monotone.
Blink turned to him, exasperated. “Legally Blonde 2? Red, White, and Blonde? Come on, Spot.” Spot shook his head. “Eight o’clock tonight!” Together, Blink and Mush ran out of Manhattan toward the staff parking lot, blaring the national anthem as they went.
The rest of the staff was left in stunned silence in the seconds after they swept out of the building. Finch was the first to break the silence. “Does anyone have anything pink I can borrow?”
“I got you,” Romeo replied.
The staff split off then. A few went to the lodge to watch Legally Blonde in preparation. Several headed to town to buy something pink and/or patriotic. Davey walked down to what remained of the art hut and took a seat on the wheelchair ramp. Although the building was gone, the area still got the best cell phone service at the entire camp. Earlier that day, he got a text from his mother telling him to call as soon as possible.
After sending a text to Sarah about the party that night, Davey found his mother’s contact in his favorites. It rang a couple of times before Esther answered. “Hi, baby!”
“Hey, Mom,” Davey replied. “You wanted me to call?”
“Yes!” He could hear the tv in the background, playing what sounded like a daytime talk show. “I think I found a good car for you. And it’s a really good price.”
“Yeah?”
The sound in the background stopped as the tv was either turned off or muted. “You know Uncle Jake’s Subaru?”
Davey ran a hand through his hair. “That car is older than me.”
“It still runs fine, though!”
“I don’t want an ancient Subaru. I told you- nothing more than five years old.”
Esther sighed. “I’m just trying to save you money! They don’t make cars like they used to anymore. The Subaru is really sturdy, and Uncle Jake is going to stop driving soon so it would just be sitting in his driveway.”
“No, Mom. I can handle it.”
“Have you found an apartment yet? You know you can always live at home, but I know it’s pretty far from your new school, but you really need to make sure you have a place before the semester starts.”
“Oh…” Davey hesitated. “Yeah, I forgot to tell you. I’m, uh, going to live here. You know, with Jack.” Esther was silent on the other end of the line for a long time. “Hello?”
“I don’t know about that,” Esther replied with a sigh. She almost sounded tired. “You remember how things went with Sam, right?”
“That’s totally different!”
“You thought moving in with Sam was a good idea too,” she continued. “Until you actually moved in. You don’t want to get stuck in another lease with someone you don’t want to be with anymore.”
“It’s not like that,” Davey argued.
“Davey, you know I love Jack. He’s my favorite of all of your boyfriends- but I just want to make sure you’re thinking this through all the way.”
Davey leaned back to lie on the ramp, staring up at the sky. “I’ve thought it through. If things don’t work out, we’ll be at the camp and I won’t have a lease so I can leave whenever I want. And it’s rent free so I can save for school and put more money toward a car.”
“We can talk about it later.”
“Mom-” Davey said quickly. “There’s not really anything to talk about. This is happening, so… I mean, sorry if you don’t like it, but it makes the most sense. And it’s what I want.”
“No, I mean- I wasn’t saying no. I just meant that we could talk about the details later. Maybe we could meet you for dinner one weekend soon. Are you busy this week?”
“Yeah, kind of. And next week. But I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” Esther replied. “I love you, baby.”
“Love you too,” Davey said. “Bye.”

Jack reluctantly volunteered to be designated driver to the party. He had a lot of work to do on Saturday and couldn’t afford a hangover. They all piled into Race’s car and Race peeled out of the parking lot, gravel spraying behind his car as he whipped out. “Jesus, Race,” Spot said through gritted teeth. Things were still tense between Spot and Jack. Jack knew that Spot was just waiting for his next slip-up, either with Davey or with the camp, and would be ready to take him to task for it. Spot watched him like a hawk.
It was during several rides with Race that Davey truly realized why the bar over the window was called the “oh shit” bar. Jack laughed at him as Davey clutched the bar as Race whipped around curves, until Jack ended up nearly in Davey’s lap after a particularly sharp turn. “Can you slow down?” Davey asked as Race weaved in and out of traffic.
“I’m not going that fast,” Race said. “Only like… fifteen over.”
“Bro,” Spot said from the passenger seat. “You know the rule. No more than ten.”
“Fine,” Race grumbled as he let off of the gas a bit.

At Blink’s house, there had been a nuclear explosion of pink. The PJ in the cooler was made with red Gatorade and Everclear instead of the classic blue Gatorade and Everclear, Legally Blonde 2 was playing on the big TV, and all of the various flags looked like they had been dipped in bleach. One of Blink’s roommate had borrowed her sister’s chihuahua and was carrying him around in a purse. Race and Jack had matching old camp tshirts that had once been red, but neither of them were good at laundry, so they had faded to a pastel pink. Davey just happened to have a pink t-shirt. Spot refused to cooperate.
“You want a drink?” Jack asked Davey.
Davey eyed the cooler nervously. “Maybe if there’s something at isn’t that.”
Mush was walking by with an armful of fireworks. “There’s rosé in the fridge, buddy.” Davey went to investigate and sure enough, there was a stack of cheap Trader Joe’s brand wine in the fridge. No one else seemed to be interested, so he took a whole bottle for himself.
Someone tapped Davey on the shoulder and he jumped. Sarah was standing right behind him and hugged Davey quickly. Katherine said something to Jack, who burst into laughter. “Mama’s going to kill you,” Sarah said in a singsong voice.
“Why?” Davey asked warily.
“Because you’re living in sin with Jack!” Davey just stared at her, waiting for the punchline. “I’m seriously, Davey.” He continued to wait. “She’s so pissed.” Still no reaction. “Okay, fine. She wanted to know if I thought you would want a Crock Pot.”
“I don’t crock,” Davey replied. “Or pot.”
“Come on,” Sarah said, nudging him. “I heard about your pot adventure last Christmas.” Davey looked at the ground. Jack had gotten some edibles from someone as a gift and Davey tried one. It was not a fun experience and resulted in Davey having a major panic attack while a very high Jack called Sarah to see if he should take Davey to the hospital. He decided on that day that it wasn’t for him.
“Regardless,” Davey continued. “I don’t think we need a Crock Pot. Ask Jack. I won’t be cooking.” Sarah shrugged and poured herself a drink from the cooler before joining a group of Willow Lake girls.
The party went the way that most of Blink and Mush’s parties went. The hosts (and York) ended up smoking on the back deck. Spot and Race destroyed everyone who dared go up against them in beer pong before making out brazenly on the couch. Jack ran around the backyard with Crutchie on his shoulders while Davey argued with Sarah and Romeo about the Lord of the Rings. Sarah and Romeo didn’t even care about Lord of the Rings. Davey just needed someone to yell at about the travesty that was the Hobbit movies. Specs and Romeo were dancing some kind of jig in the kitchen while Smalls ran a game of Smoke and Fire.
Around eleven, Elmer lit off a couple of fireworks, drawing most of the people assembled into the backyard. Davey hung sloppily off of Jack, handsy as always while drunk. Spot dug through the pile of fireworks before looking up and scanning the crowd. “Race!” he yelled.
Race pushed through the crowd, tripping slightly over the bottom step on the way down. Spot tossed him a long, thin tube. “I’m challenging you,” he said. “To a Roman candle fight.” The sober people gathered there groaned at the stupidity of the idea, but no one made any move to stop them. A few went inside to keep some semblance of plausible deniability. Race caught the Roman candle and he and Spot went to stand at opposite sides of the yard while the crowd called out encouragements or insults. In unison, they lit the Roman candles and pointed them at each other.
Over the next minute, Spot and Race expertly dodged each others’ shots, ducking, jumping, and in Spot’s case at one point, a very impressive dive to the ground while firing another shot. That shot, however, nailed Race squarely in the armpit where his tank top exposed bare skin. “Fuck,” he yelled, dropping his Roman candle. Its last shot went off harmlessly into the grass which was thankfully damp from a recent rain. Spot and several other people ran over to Race, who was cursing and alternating between clutching his underarm area and holding his arm up to avoid contact.
Spot winced. “Yeah, that doesn’t look great,” he said.
Race glared up at him. “Yeah, because you shot me.” Spot held his hands up, as if he were entirely innocent in the situation.
Boots, who was driving that night and had stayed sober, came over to inspect the injury. “Yeah…” he said. “That looks really bad.”
“You think?” Race yelled.
“I guess it’s not a real summer without a trip to the ER for Race,” Jack said. “Come on.” He gathered up the people in his car and headed straight for an urgent care for Race, who hurled insults at Spot the entire ride, but begged Spot to come with him once they got there and he was called back to see a doctor.

Chapter Text

On Saturday morning, a very hungover Davey and a very nervous Jack waited for Jack’s ancient laptop to start up. Tickets for the adult camp had gone on sale the night before, but Davey made Jack promise not to look until Saturday, so that Jack didn’t spend all night refreshing the ticket sales page. “Okay,” Jack said as he typed in his password. Davey rubbed circles into his back while Jack sat with fingers crossed.

“Whatever happens,” Davey said in a slightly hoarse, sleepy voice. “We’ll figure it out.”

The page loaded and Jack scrolled down, hands shaking as he read the page. Davey read faster and gripped Jack’s shoulder. Jack stiffened when he saw the ticket sale total. Tickets were being sold for anywhere between two hundred and five hundred dollars, depending on lodging and extras that were added on, like an open bar or horseback riding lessons.

In the roughly fifteen hours that tickets had been on sale, they had sold eighty tickets, for a total of almost twenty-four thousand dollars. Jack’s breath caught in his throat and he shook his head, staring at the page in bewilderment. A portion of ticket sales would go toward paying for food, drinks, and insurance, but the rest went straight into the camp budget. That didn’t include the auction that would take place during dinner on the last night or the activities that would happen during the camp that would cost extra money. Jack had designed tshirts and posters that a screenprinter he knew was giving them a good deal on, which they expected to do well (after a significant markup).

Davey grabbed Jack’s shoulders and shook him. “Do you see that?” he asked excitedly. Jack nodded numbly. Davey reached around him and refreshed the page again. There was another ticket sale, this one for four hundred dollars. The new sale seemed to wake Jack up, and he brightened quickly. Jack stood up on the bed and jumped a couple of times, prompting Davey to grab the laptop and hold it close to rescue it before it was bounced off of the bed or stepped on. The jumping made his head throb, but Davey did nothing to stop Jack.

“I,” Jack yelled in between jumps as he pointed downward at Davey. “Am making! You! Breakfast!” He made a flying leap off of the bed, making a nearby lamp shake when he landed and ran off toward the kitchen. Davey shook his head and smiled, refreshing a couple more times before meeting Jack in the kitchen, where he was in the process of scrambling eggs and frying turkey bacon while whistling what sounded like the Mr. Rogers Neighborhood theme song. Davey started a pot of coffee and took a couple of ibuprofen.

While Jack cooked, Davey continued to refresh the page, calling out reservations as they were made. “Got a two fifty one from someone in Connecticut.” “There’s a three hundred- wait, no. Three seventy five!” Jack slid a plate across the counter to Davey as Davey poured coffee for the two of them. Once again, he was struck with the warm realization that this was just how life was going to be once the summer was over. Just the two of them in this house with the camp all to themselves. When he moved in with Sam, it felt like the next logical step. This was logical in more ways than one, but it was more than that. There was a sense of rightness that had never really been there with Sam. Davey didn’t even know he was missing it until he had it.

On the other side of the camp, Spot and Race were in Manhattan with the room to themselves. Crutchie had stayed over at Blink’s after refusing to leave early when Jack ran Race to the doctor. Race had a bandage covering his injury, which had turned out to be a second degree burn. After the alcohol in his system wore off, Race got extremely grumpy from the pain, but Spot stayed with him, helping him with the medication that had to be applied to the burn site every few hours. He only made a few jokes about all of Race’s underarm hair being burned away.

After Spot helped Race change his bandages, Race looked at him seriously. Race took both of Spot’s hands in his. “I need to tell you something really important,” he said, making direct eye contact with Spot. “And I need you to listen- really listen, okay?” Spot nodded. Race took a deep breath before continuing. “You are so, so stupid,” he said. “Like, monumentally stupid. Absolutely idiotic.”

Spot yanked his hands away. “ Me ?” he asked. “What about you ? You agreed to do it!”

“It was your idea!”

“You’re supposed to be the rocket scientist!”

“You’re supposed to not shoot your boo thang with a Roman candle!”

“ You’re supposed to never say boo thang again!”

“You’re both stupid,” a voice said from the doorway. They looked up to see Crutchie there, leaning against the doorframe.

A bunch of guys sprawled out on the furniture in the director’s cabin after dinner, watching a marathon of Avatar: the Last Airbender. Jack had been refreshing the ticket sales page all day and refused to go outside of the wifi range of his cabin or Admin. He had drawn a thermometer with their fundraising goal at the top and colored it in throughout the day, whenever a new reservation came through. “You guys!” he yelled, interrupting a scene. Crutchie yelled at him to be quiet but Spot calmly paused the show. “We just got five four hundos!” He rushed to his thermometer and filled in twelve hundred more dollars.

“Hey, Jack,” Race said from his place on the couch, long legs stretched across Spot and Davey. “Four hundred times five is two thousand.”

“Oh, shit!” Jack cursed happily as he filled in eight hundred more.

“Race,” Davey said, shoving Race’s legs. “Go get more chips.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t get up.”

Race sighed dramatically and pointed at his bandage. “I can’t. I’m disabled today.”

An elbow crutch thwacked Race on the top of his head. “Want to rethink that?” Crutchie asked. Davey and Spot glanced at each other and together, flipped Race off of them onto the floor. He dusted himself off and went to get more chips without another word.

As he came back with the chips, Race passed by Crutchie and stopped next to him. “What’s that?” he asked.

Crutchie looked up. “What’s what?”

Race reached out and poked a spot on Crutchie’s neck, and Crutchie seemed to sort of turtle into himself. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

Jack was up from his thermometer like a flash to see what Race was pointing at. “ Chuck ,” he gasped dramatically. “Do mine eyes deceive me?”

“Are y’all talking about that huge hickey?” Spot asked as he yanked the new bag of chips out of Race’s grasp. “Are you just now noticing?”

“It’s hard to see!” Race argued.

“Nope,” Davey said, taking the bag from Spot. “Super obvious.”

“And who has marked you like this?” Jack asked in a fake fatherly voice.

Crutchie pulled the neck of his tshirt up to his ears. “I’m not telling you!”

“Was it Specs?” Race yelled, as Specs stepped out of the bathroom.

“What?” Specs asked, thoroughly confused.

“Come on,” Race goaded. “I know there’s something going on there.”

“ It’s not Specs ,” Crutchie said forcefully. Specs held his hands in the air.

Spot rolled his eyes. “You really are stupid. Maybe it’s the guy he’s been spending all of his free time with, and who he spent most of the party with last night.”

“You were too busy sticking your tongue down Race’s throat to notice who I was with last night!” Crutchie yelled.

Spot shrugged. “I can multitask.”

Jack clapped his hands together, having an epiphany. “It was Finch , wasn’t it!?”

In unison, Spot and Davey started to clap sarcastically. “The great brain has done it again, folks,” Spot said. “ How did he figure this one out?” Crutchie, who was beet red by this point, shrugged noncommittally.

Jack pointed at him. “We’re going to have a talk about this in private, young man.”

“Okay, Dad.”

The other guys teased Crutchie mercilessly about Finch until he started swinging with a crutch. Each one of them had been on the receiving end of the business end of his crutch. It wasn’t an experience that any of them were especially eager to recreate, especially Race, who had a feeling he would probably have a lump from the whack he had already taken.

They started the show again, but after only a few minutes, Jack went dead silent out of the blue. He quietly filled in another chunk of his thermometer and then leaned against Davey’s legs on the floor. His fingers traced invisible pictures on his leg and every time someone said something to him, it was like they had to call Jack out of a daze. Davey watched as he scrolled through Facebook through his phone searching for people, even though he almost never used Facebook.

After two more episodes, with Jack still acting strangely, Davey started yawning loudly to try to get the guys to get the hint that it was time for them to go. Spot and Specs picked up on it first and dragged the others out of the building. As soon as they were gone, Davey turned to Jack. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

Jack took a slightly shuddering breath and bit his lip. First, he reached up to the couch and pulled a quilt that Medda had given him years ago down onto his shoulders and then pulled up the registration files for the adult camp and pointed at a set of two tickets, both of which had paid five hundred dollars. The names Karla and John Steward marked the reservation. Davey nodded, unsure of why those names stood out to Jack, aside from the huge sum of money they paid to get tickets. “Dave,” Jack said, pointing specifically at Karla’s name. His face was drained of all color. “I think that’s my mom.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean , you think that’s your mom?” Davey asked.

Jack shrugged. “I mean, it might not be her. I’m not totally sure what her last name is, but I know she got married, and I thought his last name was Steward. Or maybe Stewart? Or… Stu-something. I don’t know. Her name is definitely Karla, though.”

In the entire time that Davey had known Jack, Jack had mentioned his mother only once. “And do you know if her husband’s name is John?” he prompted.

“No idea,” Jack replied. “Never met him, didn’t ask about him.” He did another quick Facebook search, this time for John Steward, but the results were overwhelming. “I literally haven’t talked to her in seven years.”

“Maybe you could just cancel the reservation,” Davey suggested.

Jack shook his head. “No. It might not even be her. And even if it is… they paid a thousand dollars. It’s fine. I’m going to bed.”

But he couldn’t sleep. Jack laid in bed for around half an hour before getting up and taking his sketchbook and hammock outside, where he laid out under the stars, drawing by the light of his cell phone, for several hours before finally falling asleep out there.

On Sunday morning, Crutchie walked slowly toward Admin, working on waking his joints up, which were always a bit stiff in the morning. There had been a pressure change in the air, probably from a coming storm, that was giving his leg more trouble than normal. Someone behind him jogged to catch up and Crutchie turned in time to see Finch there, carrying a bagel . “Morning,” Finch said cheerily.

“Morning,” Crutchie replied.

“You kind of disappeared yesterday.”

“Yeah, I went to hang out with Jack and the other guys.” As they passed the remains of the art hut, they saluted in in unison, as the staff had taken to doing.

“Hey, so I kind of wanted to talk to you before things get busy today,” Finch started. Crutchie looked at him expectantly. “I just like… I know you don’t really like talking about, uh… things. But I just wanted to know- what is this?”

“What do you mean?” Crutchie asked.

“I mean, we’ve been hanging out for a couple weeks now. I like you, you like me- I think. You like me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, cool. But like, we never talked about things last summer and everything kind of- well, you know what happened. And I’m over it, it’s fine. But are we dating? Or just hanging out? Or what? Like, what can I call this?”

Crutchie made a face. “Do we have to call it anything?” he asked. “I mean, you know the deal.”

“No,” Finch said with a humorless laugh. “I really don’t know the deal. That’s literally why I’m asking you.”

Crutchie let out an exasperated sigh. “Can’t the fact that I like you be enough right now?”

“See, normally I’d say yes. But I said that was enough last summer and you ignored all of my calls and texts the minute we left camp. So no, that’s not really enough. Sorry.” Finch spun around to walk backwards, facing Crutchie. “I’m not even saying you need to be my boyfriend or anything. I just want to know where we’re at.”

“We’re friends… who like each other… I guess technically friends with benefits. Who should probably go make out in the barn before we have to go to the staff meeting.” He grinned, nodding toward the barn as they approached it.

Finch’s face turned stony. “No, thanks,” he said. “I’m not really looking for a friend with benefits.” He turned back around and sped up to a jog, leaving Crutchie behind.

The staff gathered at Admin before the meeting while waiting for those who had left camp for the weekend. Davey played a card game with Spot while they waited. “What’s up with Kelly?” Spot asked.

“What do you mean?” Davey replied. “Do you have any threes?”

“Go fish. I’m talking about how he started freaking out before you kicked us out last night. Got any sevens?”

Davey reluctantly pulled a card from his hand and passed it to Spot, who laid a set of cards down on the table in front of them. “How do you notice everything?”

“I’m the smartest guy you know. Any fours?”

“Go fish. You thought you were a hetero, genius. Do you have any queens?”

Spot grimaced and handed Davey two cards. “That doesn’t count. The point is, I’m observant. I notice things. What’s his deal?”

Davey deliberated for a moment. “His deal is… kind of his own business. It’s not really for me to say. Nines?”

Spot shook his head. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “Twos?”

“Go fish, you fucking gossip.”

“I’m not a gossip!” Spot argued.

Davey laughed. “ Please . You’re the most gossip hungry person I know! You always have your nose in someone’s business.”

Race walked over at that moment and leaned over Spot’s shoulder. “Are we talking about Spot’s addiction to gossip?”

“No,” Spot said, shrugging Race off.

Race just leaned more on Spot. “Who’s winning?”

“Me,” Davey and Spot replied simultaneously. At the moment, the game was tied.

Jack called the meeting to order at eleven o’clock. He taped his big thermometer up to the wall and pointed at it excitedly. His mood did seem slightly deflated to Davey and other people who knew him best, but he hid it well. “Okay,” he said. “So ticket sales are going super well. Uh,” he scanned the crowd, looking for Mike. “Mike. Wait, you’re Ike. My bad. Mike! Keep it up on the social media stuff, okay?” Mike, who had been handling marketing for the event, nodded. “Check out this week is going to be pretty crazy because they’re showing up for the adult camp at five on Friday, so just make sure you get everything cleaned up fast. Program staff, help them out.”

He delivered a few more announcements before passing out rosters and sending them off to work on scheduling. Davey’s group had high school boys, and he recognized the name of Mason, the boy who had come out to him earlier that summer. Les would be there that week, but Blink’s group would be his counselors, and Blink promised solemnly not to let him get away with anything.

On the first night of camp that week, the Woodside staff cabin was inundated with kids running to the counselors saying that everyone in their cabin was being too loud. The counselors took turns going to quiet the campers down, but it never really seemed to take.

Monday night, Blink decided that he was going to nip that issue in the bud. He went to the most problematic cabin and put the boys to bed, then took a seat by the door, saying that he would leave when he was sure they were asleep. The boys were mostly quiet but kept making excuses to get out of bed. I dropped my pillow . I forgot to brush my teeth. I need to pee. Finally, he got them all down and the cabin went quiet.

From his seat, Blink couldn’t be see from any of the bunks while the boys were lying down, especially in the dark. As silently as he could, he slid his shoes off and opened the door, just wide enough for him to slip through. Instead of leaving, though, Blink walked his shoes along the floor like he was leaving and after a moment, closed the door.

The moment that the door closed, the boys became restless. None of them were talking, but they also definitely weren’t asleep, like they had all pretended to be. After a minute, a loud whisper rose out of the darkness. “Blink’s gone, you guys. Let’s play a game.”

From his hiding place, Blink spoke up. “Hey, Les. Let’s not .” The boys screamed from the shock, which dissolved into giggles. “I’m always watching,” Blink said warningly, before leaving for real.

York was walking up the road toward the cabin. “Did you just murder your campers?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Blink replied. He waited by the door for a minute, listening for any more voices, but there were none. He knew better than to think that his stunt would keep them quiet after bedtime for the rest of the week, or even for the rest of the night. Sometimes, you just have to make fun for yourself.

For the admin staff, the week flew by distressingly quickly. Between normal camp duties and preparation for the adult camp, none of them took a single break all week. They woke up around seven AM every day and usually didn’t get into bed until one or later. Jack had finally agreed to sell some paintings in the auction, but with so little time, he ended up frantically painting Bob Ross style landscapes of places around camp, cranking them out as quickly as possible. Manhattan was a mess, covered in sticky notes, banners, activities, and supplies that they didn’t otherwise have a place for.

One Thursday night, they settled in after dinner to make cabin assignments. Tickets sold out the day before, but Jack was too hesitant to give a final price total to make any kind of announcement. He was cautiously optimistic, though, that they had met their goal. Romeo sketched out a map of the camp and all of the available cabins, and they placed sticky notes with names on them in the cabins. The most expensive assignments were in Harlem, where the cabins were air conditioned with indoor bathrooms. The lowest prices were in the big field, where campers were invited to pitch their own tents and live primitively. “Jackie Lewis- Flushing,” Specs called out. Romeo scribbled Jackie’s name on the note and placed her in cabin two in Flushing. “Steven and Brenden Valdez- Woodside.” Steven and Brenden were placed. “Karla and John Steward- Harlem.” Jack instinctively looked up from the notes he was taking at that. He watched with a lump in his throat as their names were placed in a Harlem cabin.

Friday came like a whirlwind. All day, the admin and program staff flew around camp getting things ready while the counselors did their best to get their campers out as quickly as possible. Jack held an incredibly fast staff meeting before dismissing them to either go home if they hadn’t signed up to help or get to their next positions. Davey and Crutchie, who had been filled in on the mystery of Karla and John Steward, demanded to help Jack with check-in so that he wasn’t handling it alone.

Together, the three of them settled in at the check-in table in Admin. Jack shook the table by shaking his leg but for once, Davey didn’t nudge him to stop. A fire blazed in Crutchie’s eyes as he mentally prepared to fight Karla, if necessary.

A car door slammed outside, and the adult camp began.

Chapter Text

Checking the adults in was not too different from a normal week. They gave their name and identification. They got a tshirt if they ordered one. They got a map of the camp. This time, though, the map included directions to the tent camping sites and the various bars that had been set up around the premises. They all got schedules, which showed what activities were happening at what times. Instead of having the counselors shepherd their groups around the camp, each staff member was assigned to a station where they would stay, continually running that activity, while the campers were able to move around as they wanted.

Aside from normal activities like the opening campfire that night, there was a silent auction, a paintball fight, the art hut funeral that Race had been planning with Crutchie, a cooking class, painting class, and Zumba. There was also a night swim with a swim-up bar.

Most of the attendees were in their late twenties or thirties, but there were a few older campers, some of whom had been to Mountain Ridge as kids as well as two brothers who had been counselors back in the nineties.

The guys running check-in took cash for Mountain Ridge merchandise, some of which was available for normal campers, and others were branded specifically for this event. Davey kept a running tally of the profits- it was supposed to be Jack’s job, but Jack was way too distracted. They crossed names off of the roster as they arrived until there were only a few left. “I think it is my mom,” Jack mumbled during a lull.

“Why?” Crutchie asked.

“Because she’s never been on time to anything.”

Just as Jack said, Karla and John Steward were the last to arrive. John came in first while Karla got something out of the car and Jack studied him, searching for any sign of recognition. As Crutchie was checking John’s ID, the door opened again and a woman walked in, taking a pair of sunglasses off.

The resemblance was immediately obvious. She had the exact same dark hair as Jack. They were both roughly the same skin tone, although Karla was a bit darker than Jack. Her eyes were the same color. She was tall. And even if Jack didn’t want to admit it, the general way that they held themselves was very similar. Davey glanced over at Jack, whose face was completely blank.

“Hi, Jack!” she said cheerfully with a wave as she passed her suitcase over to John. Jack didn’t respond. “This place hasn’t changed at all since you were little, has it?” Still, stony silence from the staff assembled there. “You look so grown up. What are you now, twenty-three?”

“I’m twenty-five,” Jack replied, a low note of fury lining his words. At that, Crutchie narrowed his eyes.

Karla looked to Crutchie. “I think I remember you. You’re one of his friends from camp, right?” Crutchie just glared daggers at her. Karla didn’t even have the decency to look bothered by the awkward situation. “And who are you?” she asked Davey.

“I’m Davey,” he replied. “His friend.”

“My boyfriend ,” Jack corrected. That finally threw Karla. She stumbled over her words for a moment. “Yeah, I date men. We live together. That a problem?”

“Um, no,” she replied. “You’re free to… do what you want, I guess.”

“I need your ID,” Crutchie said. Karla passed it over.

“Jack,” she said. “You should really give me your phone number!”

“No,” he replied simply.

Davey handed them t-shirts, a map, and a schedule. “You can go to your cabin now.”

“Maybe I could stay here for a bit to catch up,” Karla suggested.

Crutchie shook his head. “No. What he meant was, you need to go to your cabin now .”

“We have work to do,” Jack added.

“Okay,” Karla said. “Well, I’ll catch up with you later.” She gathered her bags and her husband and swept out of the building.

As she was leaving, Jack called behind her, “Don’t bother!” As soon as she was out of eyesight, Jack dropped his face into his hands and groaned loudly. Crutchie patted him on the back a few times. “Why does she want to talk to me now ?” he asked. “With all this ‘oh, give me your number’ bullshit.”

“Maybe she feels guilty,” Davey offered.

“She should feel guilty,” Crutchie said defensively.

Davey nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Jack stacked up all of the papers on the desk and slipped them into a folder. “We should get going. It’s almost dinnertime.” They all stood and piled onto the golf cart. Fumes of rage absolutely radiated off of Crutchie. When they got to the dining hall, Jack caught Davey’s arm and held him back for a moment. “Stay at the house with me tonight?” he asked.

Davey briefly leaned his forehead against Jack’s before kissing him quickly. “I was already planning on it.”

Inside, Karla and John attempted to sit at Jack’s table. As soon as they sat down, Jack and Davey picked up their plates without a word and walked across the dining room to a different table, joining Albert and Buttons. Dinner was rowdy in a completely different way from the usual meals. Instead of a hundred young boys, there were now a bunch of vaguely tipsy adults.

After dinner, Hot Shot and JoJo went down to the amphitheater to get the fire lit for the opening campfire. The campers trickled into the amphitheater as they finished eating and sat politely while the staff went over rules, schedules, and announcements. At the end of that section, Jack stepped in front of the fire, sitting down next to it on the ground, like he did every week. A kind of thrall always seemed to fall over the crowd as Jack told the story, and this week was no different. The crowd was quiet enough and listened hard enough that he was able to speak in his normal speaking voice without having to strain to be heard.

“Once upon a time, a long time ago, Camp Mountain Ridge was here, but there were no people yet. There were birds and bears and coyotes and-” He paused for a moment, thinking to himself. This was the usual opening to his favorite story- the story of how the stars were made, but he began to change it. “And foxes. And there was a mama fox with a baby. The mother fox was very busy and interested in just about everything. She liked to explore and talk to the other animals and learn new things. But taking care of a baby fox is hard. She always felt like the baby fox was holding her back from the things she wanted to do, so she left the baby fox.

“The baby fox was alone and scared, but he was also smart and interested in a lot of things, just like his mom. He went off on his own into the world, but it was a dangerous place for a baby fox. One day, he was being chased by a hungry wolf, and the fox ran into a cave. It was dark and damp, but the wolf didn’t follow him there. In the cave, he met a baby bear, who had also lost his mother. They waited there until the wolf was gone and then promised to stand up for each other and protect each other forever.

“The fox and bear lived together, on their own, for a long time. One day, they met a…” he paused, thinking. “A lark. And the lark didn’t have any family of her own but she took care of the fox and the bear. She even found a couple of grown-up bears that wanted a baby and introduced the baby bear. She watched out for the baby fox and took care of him more than the mama fox had ever done.

“The fox started to gather a whole bunch of friends around him, and the more friends he had, the less he missed his mother. One day, when the fox was all grown up, his mother showed up when he was with his friends the bear and the snake. She asked the fox to come back with her, but by this point, the baby fox barely knew his mother. He had a new family with the lark and the bear and the snake and all of the other animals and knew he could trust them. The mama fox gave up her chance to be with the baby fox and he found a family without her and didn’t need her anymore.

“So now, every time you see animals out in the woods living together peacefully, just know that they’re like the fox and his family. They chose each other, and sometimes that’s way stronger than blood could ever be.” Jack stood up and brushed the dirt off of his shorts before stepping to the side where Davey and Crutchie were waiting.

“That was a new one,” Davey said quietly.

“I came up with it on the fly,” Jack replied out of the corner of his mouth. “Not my best work.”

“I liked it,” Crutchie said.

Specs and Romeo stepped up to the front of the circle where they laid out all of the ingredients for s’mores. As the campers charged forward for marshmallows, Jack tugged on Davey’s hand. “I’m done,” he said. “Let’s go.” He turned to Crutchie. “Call if you need me.”

“You got it, bro,” Crutchie replied.

Back at the director’s cabin, Davey made Jack a cup of tea and they sat facing each other on the couch. “Say the word, and I’ll throw her out,” Davey said.

Jack smiled sadly. “Do you think I should talk to her?”

“I think that’s up to you,” Davey replied.

“I know, but I want to hear your opinion.”

Davey stretched his legs out over the back of the couch, hanging partially upside down. He sighed, thinking for a moment. “I don’t think she’s worth your time. She can’t ignore you for seven years and come back and expect you to welcome her back into your life. She didn’t even know how old you are, Jack! And she’s the one that shoved you out into the world.”

“I was a c-section,” Jack mumbled. “But I get your point.”

“I just think-” Davey hesitated, turning his words over in his head. “If you’re looking for a mom, just think about the woman who let you live with her and lets you show up and start painting her porch green in the middle of the night. Or, hell, borrow my mom.”

“God, I love your mom,” Jack said.

“Yeah, she’s a good one.”

Jack fell silent for a minute, drinking his tea. “You know I have a sibling?” he said out of the blue.

“You mentioned that she was pregnant last time you saw her.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding. “But Dave, I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl or whatever, or anything about them. Who the hell knows what they did with the kid this weekend- maybe they’re already pawning them off to whoever will take them like she did with me.”

“It’s really unfair to the kid, honestly,” Davey said. “Because you’re a really good big brother.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“You played Fortnite with Les for six hours in April when my parents went out of town and I had to watch him for the weekend. It’s close enough.”

Chapter Text

Morning came early for Spot, who had agreed to run a polar bear plunge for the more adventurous campers. Very few had signed up, so Spot agreed to let the other guards stay asleep (except for JoJo, who was leading an early run).

He dragged himself out of bed before the sun and trudged up the hill to the pool. It was going to be a short swim before breakfast, and Spot prepped the pool for the morning people of the camp.

Around seven o’clock, a radio call came through. “Spot to Dave.”

It took a while to get a response, until a very croaky-voiced Jack replied. “This is Jack. What do you need?”

“I need to talk to Dave.”

“Ugh. Hang on.” There was another long silence.

An irritable, tired voice came through after a while. “What do you want?”

“I need you to come up to the pool,” Spot said urgently.

“I’ll come at breakfast,” Davey replied blearily.

Spot replied quickly. “No! I need you to come now .”

“...Fine.”

Jack, who was nowhere near ready to get up, gave Davey permission to take the golf cart up to the pool. He showed up wearing a pair of ripped pajama pants and one of Jack’s painting shirts. All of the hair on his left side stood on end. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Spot said. The campers had left by this point and he was alone in the picnic shelter, watching an upside down plastic storage tub.

“What the fuck do you want?” Davey asked.

Spot pointed at the tub. “Caught a snake.”

“So?” Davey had no sympathy for anyone in the morning. “You’re a big boy.” He looked downwards toward Spot. “Well, maybe not big .”

“You’re mean in the morning,” Spot grumbled. “It’s a rattlesnake. Big one, too.”

That woke Davey up a bit. He tapped on the top of the plastic tub and a frantic rattling echoed from within. “Where’d you find a rattlesnake?”

Spot pointed toward a corner of the picnic shelter. “Over there.” He scrolled through his phone before holding it up to show Davey. Sure enough, there was a large rattlesnake coiled in the corner in the photo. “It’s really pissed.”

“Okay,” Davey said. “Okay, okay, okay. We can figure this out.” He stared at the tub for a while, trying to wake his brain up enough to figure things out.

“Late night?” Spot asked.

“Jack made me watch Toy Story,” Davey replied, distracted. He experimentally pushed the tub toward the exit to see if they could just push it away, but the snake smashed against the side of the tub, rattling furiously. “Okay. That’s not going to work.” He held the tub in place until the snake calmed down and stopped bashing against the walls.

“You think we can just lift it up and run?”

Davey shook his head. “This thing’s pissed and I don’t want it to strike at one of us.” He contemplated a bit more before snapping his fingers. “Okay, got it.” Spot watched him expectantly. “Is there any duct tape up here? And rope?”

“Uh, no duct tape,” Spot replied. “There’s medical tape. And there’s rope on the end of the life ring.”

Davey considered that for a moment. “I think that’ll work. Go get those.” Spot grabbed the supplies and came back, also carrying two boogie boards. “What’s this for?”

“Shields,” he replied. Davey ripped off a few pieces of tape and taped the end of the rope to the side of the tub closest to the exit. He climbed onto a nearby picnic table and motioned for Spot to join him.

“Okay, so we pull the rope, and it’ll lift the tub and hopefully , the snake will just sort of slither away.”

Spot nodded quickly. “Okay, yeah. I’m with you. Hang on.” He jumped down and grabbed the pool skimmer before rejoining Davey. They each held a boogie board in one hand as a shield while Davey gripped the rope and Spot held the pool skimmer out like a lance.

“Alright,” Davey said, pulling the rope mostly taut. “One… two… three!” On three, he yanked the rope and the tub went flying backwards, revealing the snake. Spot wasn’t kidding when he said it was huge, and it sat still for a moment before turning to face Davey and Spot.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Spot yelled in a high-pitched, panicky voice. He poked at the snake with the pool skimmer until it turned around and, walking down the length of the table, Spot herded it out of the picnic shelter. They waited until it was safely into the woods before coming off of the tables. Davey and Spot high-fived as soon as they were safely back on the ground. “Gorgeous snake,” Davey commented.

“It can stay the fuck away from me,” Spot replied bitterly. “Give me a ride back to the dining hall.”

“No,” Davey said. “You woke me up. You don’t get a ride.” He got behind the wheel of the golf cart, backed out of the parking space, and took off down the pool hill and back to the director’s cabin to change.

“What’d Spot want?” Jack asked. He was on his way out and took over Davey’s place in the cart.

“Had to fight a snake,” Davey replied.

“Atta boy.” Jack pulled Davey in for a quick kiss. “Did you take my shirt again?”

“Yeah. See you at breakfast.”

Karla didn’t try to sit with Jack at breakfast, although he did catch her eyeing him a few times. He passed Davey a cup of coffee when Davey finally arrived, a bit more put together. “You’re the best,” Davey sighed, breathing in the caffeinated fumes. They had decided that since everyone there that weekend was an adult, they didn’t really need to hide their relationship, and it was a refreshing break. Davey followed Jack’s gaze to where Karla was talking to Romeo at the mimosa bar. When she turned back around to face them, Davey threw an arm over Jack’s shoulders and stared at her, almost challenging her. Karla finally looked away and went back to her table, which she was sharing with her husband, another older couple, and Blink and York, who kept exchanging disgusted looks. Clearly, they didn’t appreciate the topic of conversation at that table.

Jack pulled out a schedule as Davey went up to get food for the both of them. He was teaching an art class right after breakfast, where they would do a quick landscape tutorial by painting the view of the lake. Davey placed a plate down in front of Jack before sitting down. He had gone through the night before and highlighted the activities that they would need to be at, so the page was covered in spots of neon yellow ink.

All of the admin and program staff had certain specialties that they had taken on as jobs during the camp. Specs was leading hikes up and down the camp mountain with JoJo and Mush. Spot was lifeguarding all day, Finch was at the barn, and Sniper was running archery. Crutchie would be leading crafts activities, and Romeo and Race were bartending at various drink stations. The other counselors had been distributed around to the activities they were best at. When Jack suggested that Davey just assist him, Davey had rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that because I’m not actually good at any camp shit.”

Jack hesitated. “No, that’s not it… You’re good at organization! I need help with that!” And so it was that Davey got to spend the weekend riding around camp, making sure that everything went smoothly.

Before the art lesson started, Davey and Jack carried stacks of canvases, paints, brushes, and palettes from Manhattan to the lake. As they brought the last load down, Davey struck up conversation. “My parents want to take us to dinner next weekend, okay?” he asked. “Mom’s pretty sure I’m going to get bored of you like I did with Sam.”

“Are you?” Jack asked, unconcerned.

“Probably,” Davey replied. “But it’s free rent, so I’m willing to put up with it.”

The campers started to stream in for the art class, and Jack passed out supplies. Nearly late, Karla and John slipped into the group. Davey glanced at Jack to see if he should find a way to kick them out of the class, but Jack’s expression had slipped into what Davey could only describe as determination, so he didn’t stop them.

Jack launched into the class, instructing everyone on color balance, composition, and perspective as much as he possibly could in the short amount of time they had allotted. By the end of the class, most everyone there had a pretty decent painting to take home. None were as good as Jack’s, although Davey couldn’t help but notice that Karla’s was probably the best of the class, although he would never say so. His painting, however, was abysmal. After everyone left, Jack came over to see what Davey had painted. He covered his mouth, and Davey rolled his eyes. “You can laugh,” he said.

Jack shook his head, covering the grin that was forming. “No, I’m not laughing,” he said. “You really- I mean, that right there is a really nice shade of green you mixed. Good eye.” Davey watched him with raised eyebrows as Jack began to break down until he was sitting a log with his head between his knees, laughing.

“I’ll just get rid of this , then,” Davey said, but he wasn’t angry.

Jack shot out an arm to stop him. “No! We’re hanging that up. Davey’s first painting. I’m saving it forever.”

“You seemed to be pretty okay with Karla around,” Davey commented as they cleaned up.

“She’s not going to make me do my job badly,” Jack replied. “She doesn’t control me.”

Just after lunch, Race and Crutchie stood atop the ashes of the art hut. They had dressed fully in formal black clothing and adopted their most solemn expressions. A wreath of paper roses  leaned against the still-standing door frame and photos of the art hut lined the area. Race cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to honor the memory and celebrate the life of our dear art hut.”

“Known affectionately to his friends,” Crutchie added, “as the fart hut.”

Race nodded. “Yes. A few weeks ago, an electrical fire extinguished the life of our art hut.” He paused. “I sure with it had extinguished the fire instead, am I right?” He winked, but no one laughed at his awful joke. “He was made from… I don’t know. Wood, I guess? That pink insulation stuff? Whatever roofs are made out of? Which is evidently all really flammable. You couldn’t poop in here because the toilet barely flushed, but hey. Liquids are valid too. The art hut was home to a bunch of spiders and occasionally some raccoons, and I think some mice.

“Also,” Crutchie said. “Home to my rain jacket, which I left there the weekend before. So I guess… rest in peace, rain jacket. May the souls of my jacket and art hut endure forever.” In the background, Itey began to play a slow funeral dirge on the clarinet. “Oh, art hut! You always gave me an excuse to hang out in the air conditioning while these other assholes sweated it out outside. You gave me a place to keep snacks! You gave us a place to use our phones!”

“Seriously,” Race interjected. “Best cell signal in camp. Get it while it’s hot. Except Sprint. If you have Sprint, get a better provider.”

Crutchie nodded solemnly. “Yes, I couldn’t have said it better myself. The fart hut burned because the electrical stuff was about a million years old, because we didn’t have the budget to renovate. We’re accepting donations for the future of the camp- the art hut included. We accept checks, cash… Paypal? Do we have Paypal? Folks, I’m getting word that we do have Paypal.”

Race stepped up again. “Yeah, so… climate change is real, just putting that out there. Please donate to save a life.” Various staff members and former campers took turns sharing stories from the art hut while Itey’s clarinet played in the background. At some point, he had changed from the dirge to “In the Arms of an Angel” by Sarah McLaughlan, like some kind of ASPCA commercial.

Just before dinner, Jack and Davey stopped by the lodge to check on the silent auction. There were paintings from Jack, tickets to the ballet from Specs, some vintage Camp Mountain Ridge gear that Drowsy donated, a week at camp for a kid of the bidder’s choosing, and several items and experiences that had been donated from community members that supported the camp. The camp gear was selling high as the nostalgic tried to get their hands on the t-shirt that they got as campers or an old camp flag. Five of Jack’s paintings were up for sale, with the starting bid beginning at fifty dollars for the smallest, going up to a starting bid of three hundred dollars for his favorite. They all had bids, which excited Jack, but Davey quietly pointed at a name written at the top of each sheet.

On every single auction for Jack’s art, from the paintings to the sketches and pen and ink drawings, Karla Steward had bid, choosing to wildly lowball each piece. On the hundred dollar painting of the waterfall, for instance, Karla wrote in a bid for fifteen dollars. On the three hundred dollar painting that had taken Jack weeks to perfect, she wrote in a bid for thirty. The other bidders had bid reasonably, but still, at the top of every page in a clear print, was Karla’s name.

Jack’s shoulders sank, almost imperceptibly, and Davey glanced around the room, where campers were beginning to gather for a Zumba class with Specs and Romeo. He spotted Karla there, chatting with a younger woman. The woman said something and Karla bent over double to laugh in a move that was so quintessentially Jack that Davey just wanted to snatch the laugh away from her. She didn't deserve it. Davey shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

He strode purposefully across the room and tapped Karla on the shoulder. “We need to talk,” he said, no note of civility present in his voice. “Outside, now .”

Chapter Text

Karla stepped outside with Davey, eyeing him warily. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

Davey nodded his head toward the auction inside. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was bidding on my son's artwork," she explained. Davey watched her, waiting for more of an explanation. "Okay, I know I bid a bit lower than the asking price, but come on. They're nice paintings but you can't charge three hundred dollars for a picture of a lake. It’s not really Jack’s fault- art in general is wildly overpriced."

"You don't get it," Davey snapped. "You don't know anything about him, or how hard he works, or what he's interested in, or just... anything ."

Karla crossed her arms. Her cheery pretense had dropped. "It's not like he's exactly letting me in," she replied.

"You lost that chance when you tried to send him to boarding school, or when you kept sending him off to camp to get rid of him, or when you let him move out at sixteen without fighting him, or when you ran into him two years later and didn't even try to reconnect." Davey threw up his hands. "You didn't even know how old he is. How can someone forget that?"

Karla shrugged. "It's been a long time."

"It's been a long time since the war of 1812. The nineties were not that long ago. You can't skip all of the hard part of being a parent and expect to just be welcomed back out of nowhere."

"I know you're seeing Jack," Karla said coldly. "But if he can act mature about this, I don't see why you can't find it in your heart to do the same."

Davey shook his head quickly. The longer he went, the louder he got. "Nah, I’m tired of being mature. You were supposed to be the mature one years ago, but you apparently couldn't handle that. He's doing his job here, and you're just trying to throw him off. He might not confront you directly, but that doesn't mean I won't. You broke his heart, you know that? You know how much he wanted you around? You-"

"Dave," a voice interrupted from the door. Davey and Karla both looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, a sad expression shading his features. "It's fine, I can handle this."

He stepped up to Karla. "I hope you and your husband are really happy,” he said calmly. “And I hope to god your kid has a better life than I did. But you're not my mother, so you can stop pretending to try to support me. I'm not trying to get you to hang my crayon drawings on the fridge anymore.”

“Kids,” Karla said.

“What?”

“I have two girls,” she told him. “Not one. Kaylie and Nina. They’re seven and four. They’re at their grandma’s house for the weekend.”

Jack took a second to compose himself. “Well, congrats on your second chance. Look, I don’t know what you think you’re going to get from being here but whatever it is, you’re not going to get it from me. You can stay for the rest of the camp because you paid a lot of money to be here and I don’t want to have to give you a refund. But I want you up, packed, and gone by the time breakfast is over tomorrow. You can’t have my number, you can’t have my email, you don’t get to know where I live. This weekend is going to be our last contact.” Loud, bouncy music started inside and Jack gestured toward the door. “Go on- you don’t want to miss your class.” Karla took a long look at Jack before turning and heading inside.

Just after the door closed, Karla stuck her head back out. “You know, someday I’m going to be dead and gone and you’re going to regret not having a family.”

“Okay. Bye.” Jack motioned for Karla to go inside, and she did.

“You okay?” Davey asked.

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. “Ask me again later. But hey-” he smiled- a real smile this time. “That painting I did of the bears is up to six hundred dollars.”

He and Davey’ high-fived and Davey checked the folded schedule that he had been carrying around in his back pocket. “We need to get down and start setting up the dining hall,” he said.

After dinner, Jack ran down to Manhattan to grab glow sticks for the night swim that was planned. As he walked in, Finch was backing out of his room, half yelling. “I’m not going to beg you, man! Let me know when you’re ready to make some kind of choice here.” He swept past Jack and out of the building, slamming the door behind him.

Inside the bedroom, Crutchie was sitting on his bunk, looking conflicted. “So, uh,” Jack said, then pointed toward the direction that Finch had just gone. “Want to explain?”

Crutchie fell backwards onto the bunk with a loud groan. “He wants me to ‘define the relationship’.”

“So?” Jack asked.

“So…” Crutchie stammered for a moment, choosing his words. “Just because you’re probably with the guy you’re going to marry or whatever-” Jack opened his mouth, but Crutchie cut him off. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to. But I don’t know if Finch is the person I want to be with like… forever.”

“Dude.” Jack took off his hat, fluffing out his hair. “Did he propose to you?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you he wanted to be with you forever?”

“No.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.”

“So stop being stupid!” Jack tossed a balled up towel at Crutchie. “You don’t have to plan on something lasting forever to make it work for now, dummy.”

The night swim went off without a hitch and the drunken campers stumbled back to their cabins, ready to get up and go home the next morning. The lifeguards agreed to let the staff stick around and blow off a bit of steam, so the pool found itself full of glow sticks and Mountain Ridge staff as soon as the last camper was out of sight. Spot climbed down from the guard chair and sat on the edge of the pool next to Davey. “I heard you almost punched Jack’s mom,” he said.

“I did not!” Davey protested.

Spot rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding, asshole. That’s pretty cool of you, though.”

“Well, thanks.”

About fifteen feet away from them, Jack and Race were partners in a game of chicken against Specs and Albert. Race, who was sitting on Jack’s shoulders, launched himself at Albert unexpectedly, making Jack lose his balance and sending them both flying forward, face-first into the pool. “He’s so stupid,” Spot said, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you two going to do the long distance thing again this year?” Davey asked.

“I don’t want to,” Spot replied. “He’s going for a PhD so he kind of has to stay near school, but I’m just doing tech support stuff right now so I could technically do that pretty much anywhere. This past year was rough, man. I’m sick of him being a summer thing.”

“You’ve talked about it, though. Right?”

“Uh…” Spot hesitated. “Not really. It hasn’t really come up.”

“Well, make it come up.”

Crutchie approached Finch, who was leaning against the edge of the pool, talking to Buttons and Sniper. “Hey,” he said, leaning down. “Can we talk?” Finch turned around and nodded before pulling himself out of the pool. Crutchie led him outside of the pool area to sit out on the wall outside the picnic shelter. “So… I do like you.”

Finch watched him warily. “Okay,” he prompted. “And?”

“And… I don’t know. I guess, if you want to do this, I do too.”

“You sure?” Finch asked sarcastically. “Seems awfully risky. You wouldn’t want to-”

“Oh, shut up,” Crutchie said.

Finch crossed his arms with a smirk. “Make me.”

Crutchie pulled Finch in, kissing him hard and effectively shutting him up. He started to deepen the kiss but Finch, who hated PDA, stood up and reached out a hand to pull Crutchie to his feet. He led Crutchie toward the woods where they would have a bit more privacy behind the treeline, but they both jumped upon finding Blink and York tangled together on the ground. “Do you mind?” Blink managed to ask, pulling himself away from York for a moment before York dragged him back, unconcerned by the intruders.

Finch and Crutchie backed away from the woods. “Think anyone would notice if we left?” Finch asked, blushing slightly.

Late, late into the night, Davey half dragged Jack back to the director’s cabin. As soon as they got inside, Jack collapsed onto the bed. “I’m so tired,” he groaned.

“I know,” Davey replied. “But at least take your shoes off, come on.”

Jack kicked off his shoes, letting them fall to the floor at the foot of the bed. “I can’t believe she’s got two kids now.”

“Pretty weird,” Davey agreed.

“You know, I thought I’d feel worse. I guess I was more over it than I thought I was.”

“Closure?”

Jack thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Something she said kind of bothered me,” Davey said.

“What, just one thing?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “But specifically, it was just the thing about her being dead and you having no family. You know that’s not true, right? You do have a family.”

Jack grabbed one of Davey’s pillows and hit him with it. “You’re so sappy.” He fell quiet for a while and then added quietly. “But I know.”

Davey laid down after changing into pajamas and they both went silent, until Jack thought Davey had fallen asleep. He had just started to drift off when Davey spoke up. “I can’t believe she didn’t know how old you are!” He turned to shake Jack’s shoulder. “Wait, you’re not actually twenty-three, are you? Are you catfishing me?”

Jack smiled. “Go to sleep, Dave.” He did fall asleep then, face pressed against Davey’s shoulder, and somehow slept better than he could remember doing in recent memory.

Spot and Race were the last ones left at the pool. After everyone else had trudged back to bed, they stayed, floating on lifeguard tubes in the deep end. “Anyway,” Race was saying. “They keep finding signs of life on Mars- not necessarily current life, of course, but definitely past life, so we know it at least was possible. Maybe not for lifeforms as complex as humans, but even single-cell life is a breakthrough. But the technology just isn’t there yet to get humans on Mars for any extended period of time. Part of what I’m working on is climate issues, but the main focus of my thesis is food production, since they can’t exactly just ship more food in like the ISS does. But plants don’t grow the same in that type of environment but because we’ve found evidence of former plant life, we can study how plants could actually grow properly on Mars.”

“You’re so fucking smart,” Spot said as soon as Race stopped for a breath. “How are you so smart?” Race shrugged with a cheeky grin. “Hey,” Spot said, kicking slightly to turn so that he was facing Race. “I don’t want to do the long distance shit again this year.”

“I know, I don’t either. But I have to go to school,” Race replied.

“I should’ve been there for everything last year. I could come to you.”

“What do you mean?” Race asked.

Spot shook his head. “I just said you’re smart. I’m pretty sure you can figure it out.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

Reaching out, Spot shoved Race underwater, dunking him. He bobbed right back up, snorting water out of his nose, and flipped his wet hair out of his face. “I thought I could move nearby,” Spot finally said.

“Or you could just move in,” Race suggested.

“ Dude , I’m not making Paul deal with that,” Spot argued.

“Paul can deal with it or leave!” Paul was Race’s much-maligned roommate, who had put up with an astounding amount of torment from Race.

“Or you could leave and let him live his life in peace.”

“But my apartment is so nice ,” Race whined.

Spot shrugged. “Then stay and I’ll just be nearby. Or move out and save me money on rent. I don’t fucking care.”

“I don’t know,” Race said thoughtfully. “Moving in together… that’s kind of gay.”

“Bad news, bro. I’m kind of gay.”

"No homo though, right?"

"Yeah, no homo."

Chapter Text

The last adult camper was gone by ten AM, giving the staff a couple of hours to clean up and prep for the actual campers, who would start arriving at three. Jack tasked Race and Davey with coming up with a total count for the profits after subtracting fees that were required to put the event on while he and the rest of the staff dashed around the camp, cleaning.

It took Race and Davey an hour to tally up all of the totals between ticket sales, drink sales, merchandise, donations, and auction items. They had to take out all of the expenses, but Specs had organized those so neatly that that part was a breeze. Finally, after double and triple checking each other’s work, they had a total.

“Davey to Jack. Or whoever. Davey to anyone.”

Jack responded first. “Sup, babe.”

“Don’t do that,” Davey warned. “We’ve got a total up here.”

“I’ll be right there!” Jack yelled into the radio, loudly enough that his voice crackled and distorted.

They waited there for a while as staff began to trickle in, until finally, Jack burst through the door with Specs hot on his heels. He skidded around the corner to the front desk where Davey and Race were working. “How much did we get?” he asked, out of breath.

Race slid their scratch paper across the table to Jack, where he had circled a number at the bottom several times. Jack took the paper and stared at the number. He read over it a few times, breaking it down to one digit at a time. Jack didn’t quite believe his eyes and thought that his dyslexia must be kicking in, until Specs leaned over his shoulder to read and put both hands on Jack’s shoulders, jumping up and down excitedly.

“What’s it say?” Crutchie asked as he came in the door.

“After taking out expenses, just looking at our profits,” Race announced. “Sixty-nine thousand, three hundred forty-four dollars. Again, that’s six, nine, three, four, four.”

Jack looked like he was going into shock. His jaw hung slack and he stared at the number on the page, not blinking. “Jack?” Crutchie asked. He waved a hand in front of Jack’s face. “Wake up.” When his hand interrupted Jack’s field of vision, Jack blinked a few times and shook his head.

“ Holy shit ,” he whispered. Then again, louder, “Holy shit”. Jack grabbed Crutchie into a hug with one arm and Specs with the other. “ Holy shit! ” he yelled.

Crutchie dragged himself away for a moment and took the paper, looking at the total and thinking to himself. “Actually,” he said slowly. “I’m gonna kick in seventy-six dollars.” He opened up the Paypal app on his phone.

Race caught on first. “I love you.”

“What?” Jack asked, confused. Davey laughed behind his hand. “What’s funny?”

Davey took the paper and wrote a new total. $69,420. Jack grabbed Crutchie’s face and kissed him on the forehead. “Bless you, Christopher.”

After a few more minutes of celebration, the staff broke off to finish cleaning. Davey went up to the dining hall with Jack, where they worked on mopping the floors while the kitchen staff unloaded the shipment for the next week. Jack chattered happily about the successful weekend, without bringing up any of the rough parts. There was nowhere for Davey to interject because of the sheer velocity of Jack’s chatter, but he didn’t mind. Davey was perfectly content to mop and listen.

“Hey, Davey,” Jack said after talking for several minutes about his painting class. “Do you love me?”

Davey looked up from the mop that he was wringing out. “What? Yeah, of course.”

“Will you still love me if I give you Les’ group this week?”

Davey swung the mop at Jack, splattering him with soapy water. “No.”

That afternoon, Specs drove to town to deposit the various donations into the camp’s bank account. Jack had already called the board to tell them that the fundraiser had been a success, but wouldn’t give an exact amount until it was safely deposited. A few board members had, however, agreed to come to the camp the next day to meet with Jack and Specs about the funds.

During check-in, Jack manned the table where parents stopped in to drop off their children. He was halfway through checking a kid named Daniel Wu in when the door opened and Esther Jacobs came in with Les. Esther gave Jack a small wave, which he returned, finishing with the Wus quickly. There was no one in line behind the Jacobs, so they had a moment to talk. “Hi, Jack,” Esther said warmly. She passed him a huge tupperware, full to the brim with blondies.

Jack peeked inside and grinned. “Esther, I love you,” he said. Esther filled out Les’ paperwork quickly, used to the routine by this point. “Head on down to lice checks, bud.” He pointed Les toward the conference room where Romeo was waiting with Sniper, both of them wearing rubber gloves.

“Did David ask you if you wanted to come to dinner with us next weekend?” Esther asked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, he mentioned that- I figured he told you, but I’m in.”

Esther rolled her eyes. “You know how he is. He never checks in with me. He did mention that you’ve been having a difficult summer, though. Come here a moment.” Jack stood up and immediately, Esther pulled him into a tight hug. She was a full head shorter than Jack, who returned the hug gratefully. She pulled back. “If you ever need a little mom support or snacks or anything, just call me. Okay? You have my number.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks. Really. Thank you .”

“No problem. And let me know if that little brat of mine causes trouble.”

“Which one?”

“ Either .”

Les was cleared from lice checks and Esther escorted him out to take him down to Flushing. Jack was left at the table with a bowl of baked goods and a nice, warm feeling, which stood in stark contrast to the nausea and anger that he felt at the last check-in that he experienced with a parent figure. Seeing Esther only reinforced the feeling that Jack had that he had done the right thing by cutting Karla out.

Monday morning, Jack and Specs waited at admin wearing their best camp clothes- which for Specs means a pair of neat khaki shorts and a polo shirt. For Jack, that was his best shorts, which were red, and his best camp shirt, which was a slightly different shade of red. Somehow, even his artistic talent and eye for color couldn’t save his fashion sense. Specs had printed out a copy of the camp’s bank statement, which they kept on the desk in front of them, waiting for the board to arrive.

The bell over the door jingled and right on time, three members of the camp board stepped in. “Morning, gents!” Jack said cheerily.

“Take a seat,” Specs said, gesturing to three chairs on the other side of the desk.

The board members sat down with Ted in the middle. “I hope you have good news,” he said expectantly. Specs passed the bank statement over to him, which Ted read quickly. “Now, this is impressive.”

Another board member took the paper. “Even with the arts and crafts building burning down, you’ve gone well over your goal. We can make some really big improvements with this.”

“Actually,” Jack said as he pulled out his sketchbook. “I’ve had some thoughts on that. Strap in, boys.”

-two years later -

A low whistle startled David and he jumped, turning around to see Spot there. “Damn, Jacobs,” Spot said. “For once in your life, you look kind of hot.”

Davey turned, straightening his tie. “Thanks, bro.”

“Are you going to do something with your hair?” Sarah asked critically.

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on it?” Davey said, touching his hair self-consciously. Sarah made a face. “Should I?”

“Come here,” she replied, holding out a comb and some kind of spray bottle.

A call came through on the radio after Sarah deemed Davey’s hair passable. “Race to Spot.”

Spot picked up the radio. “What?”

“I need help,” Race whined.

“With what?”

“Writing is hard!”

Davey threw his hands up. “He hasn’t finished yet?”

Spot echoed the sentiment. “Shit, you’re not done with that yet? Fine, I’m on my way.”

“Thank you!” A moment passed while Spot gathered his things together. “Kath needs help with her hair so bring Sarah too.”

Spot and Sarah walked together through the camp, past the new Bronx cabins and renovated infirmary, through the Harlem cabins, and into the lodge, which was set up for a party. Sarah split off to find Kath in the bathroom while Spot joined Race on the floor, where he was chewing on the end of a pen and writing on a notebook.

“Let me see what you have so far,” Spot said. He took the notebook and read over it for a moment before looking at Race seriously. “This is absolutely terrible.”

In the director’s cabin, Jack wasn’t dressed yet. He and Crutchie had just made some bacon while Les lounged on the couch, playing a video game. “Enjoy bacon while you can,” Crutchie said.

“Dude, I’m not going kosher,” Jack laughed. “That’s not how this works.”

He started digging through his clothes, laying everything out. “Have you seen my socks?” he yelled out to the other guys.

“No,” they called back simultaneously.

“Shit,” Jack cursed. “I think Davey still has them. Les, run get them.”

Les paused his game and huffed, jogging out the door. He ran up the hill, past the new art hut, which had been rebuilt twice as big but somehow, just as rustic. A few of his cousins were playing on the new sand volleyball court, and Les pushed himself to keep going and not stop to play.

Back in Manhattan, Davey waited in the building by himself, feeling more and more anxious by the second. The door opened and Davey looked up just as his dad walked in. Meyer was walking with a cane these days and limped his way into the cabin. “Your hair looks different,” he commented.

Davey checked it self-consciously in the mirror. “Sarah did it.”

The door burst open again and Les burst in, panting. “Socks…” he said in between loud breaths. “You have Jack’s socks.”

“No, I don’t,” Davey argued.

“He says you do!”

“They’re on top of the dresser.” Les just stared at Davey. “Go tell him.”

With a loud huff, Les stormed out of the cabin. Davey waited until he was gone, then looked at his father. “Did you ever wish I was straight?” he asked.

Meyer widened his eyes, taken aback by the question. “David, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is that no matter what, you’ve always known exactly who you are. We always said we’d love you kids no matter what, but you came out before I even knew you were old enough to be having crushes on people.” He laughed softly. “I don’t want you to be anything else, okay?”

At exactly two o’clock, Race took his place on the observation deck, newly rebuilt and expanded. Kath walked up the trail with Davey and Jack’s dog, Mimi the one-eyed pitbull mix, and the procession began. Jack walked up first, accompanied by Medda, and then Davey, with his parents on either side of them. As they walked up the path, all of their friends lined the way, moving in closer to the observation deck as Davey passed. Itey and Specs sat in folding chairs off to the side, playing a duet between their clarinet and cello.

Davey took his place facing Jack, with Spot and Sarah waiting behind him and Crutchie and Les behind Jack. Esther and Medda stood next to each other, already crying and sharing a packet of tissues. Once they were in place, Race pulled a neatly folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, studied it for a moment, and then shook his head and put it away. He grabbed a different sheet of paper, which looked like it had been balled up and then unfolded. “ Oh, no ,” Spot whispered behind Davey.

Race cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, today these assholes are getting married or whatever.”

-the end-