Chapter Text
“Go on, Michael.” His mother encouraged him, giving a light shove towards the dirt path. “It’s only for a few days, I promise.” She looked at him, a comforting smile arisen on her face as he pouted, arms tight around each other. “Should I walk you?” She asked, hugging him before turning to the car again. He shook his head. “No.. I’ll be fine..” He mustered.
It’s not that he didn’t like the water, or the cool smell of pine, or even the bugs. It was the others. How was he supposed to even interact? The questions buzzed in his mind as his mother drove off, leaving him with a tall brunette counselor, who wore her hair in two twin braids which swung in front of her chest. She wore a ringer-tee shirt with the titular camp logo and athletic shorts to match.
“Hey there, kid. Michael, right?” She bent down onto her knees to get a better look at him.
Michael nodded, lowering his arms to his sides, still tense but more relaxed. “C’mon, you wanna meet the other kids?” The counselor asked. Michael shook his head once more, his curly hair flying onto his face.
“Oh, it’ll be fun, come on, kid!” The counselor started to jog lightly as she waited for Michael to follow, which he did, albeit reluctantly.
He entered from the gravel path into the camp. A wooden sign hung above the path, “Camp Crystal Lake.” It declared, framed on either side by mammoth pine trees. It was then when the smell really hit him; rough gravel and sand kicked up by cars, the sweet coolness of pine, the thick aura of wood always present, and the chemical smell left by bug spray and sunscreen. Acres and acres of cabins lured off into the distance, only marked by dirt paths and sticks of wood declaring the cabin number. There was a great lake stretched out before him, its surface shimmering and glittering under the sun. A dock jutted into the lake’s surface, surfboards and motor boats moored to it. The very sight of the camp is stunning; however backwoods it seemed.
Just then, another car drove up, further into the path than he expected. He coughed as dust kicked up from the ground.
“Oh my, I’m sorry, son!” A voice called from the side of the road. It was an older woman; blonde-greying hair with wrinkles edging her mouth and eyes. She wore a dull blue cable knit sweater. Michael recognized the knitting as being handmade as he studied her, her face gentle but somehow commanding at the same time. It is kind but demands respect at the same time. “I’m Miss Voorhees. I expect you and the other campers to get along just fine with my darling son.” She said, beaming politely. Michael was still reeling a tad, but nodded and returned his best smile, revealing his crooked teeth from the side of his face. Michael’s counselor waved politely as a click from the back of the car signalled Ms. Voorhees’ son.
Now, Michael’s mother taught him not to be rude, but his gut reaction was not so pleasant. The boy that emerged from the car was abnormally tall and quite skinny for his age. But what struck Michael was his face; the left half of his face was quite deformed. His skull was irregular in some places, with thick, almost scarred skin nearly covering his left eye. His face drooped with the skin, and his eye was likely lazy due to it. There was little hair growing on his head, and it was a dark red color.
As Ms. Voorhees exited the car to excitedly speak to her son and help him with his things, Michael caught his eyes over the car. They were as clear and as blue as the lake’s surface itself, glittering with some unknown emotion. They were so pure, so clear.. He couldn’t help but stare. Michael was jolted out of his trance when his counselor put a hand on his shoulder, jerking her head in a “come on” motion. He followed her, glancing back at the boy.
Michael was escorted to a group of boys his same age. He didn’t seem to be accepted into the group right away, but the other kids respected his silence. The boy from the car, however, he saw going straight to the boy’s cabin with an older counselor. Michael guessed that he had some health issues and didn’t want to play soccer or football with them, even though he could sit off to the side like himself. His thoughts never drifted from the boy even as a soccer ball whizzed past and hit him squarely in the face. He heard a hurried apology as one of the boys retrieved his ball and ran back. Michael pressed his hand to his nose, blood dripping from it and onto the gravel. His counselor had run off somewhere, so he decided to head to the cabin for now. He held his hand to his nose and opened the door, the boy nowhere in sight. He headed to the bathroom (which contained no running water anyways) and grabbed a handful of tissues, holding them to his face with pressure as his mother had taught him to do several times before.
He walked out- straight into another figure, almost head on. He groaned as he fell backwards onto the wooden planks; prepared to apologize for himself but quickly interrupted by who he had run into. It was the boy, who seemed to be awfully distraught. In a hushed, throaty voice, he said “‘Ahm sorry..” with what seemed to be great difficulty. He extended a hand, using the other one to point to himself as he helped Michael up. “Jay.. Jason.” he murmured.
“Michael.” he returned, returning the tissue to his nose. Almost without thinking, Michael blurted, “What’s with your face?” and a moment of silence took its place. Jason looked sort of solemnly to the ground. “Ahlways.. Like this.” He answered. “Buh-But doesn’ hurt.” he affirmed as he saw the look of concern on Michael’s face.
Michael nodded, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment. Why did he say that? Was that rude? He stalked away, trying to smile back but ending up looking sarcastic. But Jason seemed fine with it. Michael wonders if he’s ever been bullied like him, because of the way he looks or acts. Who would hurt him? That’s awful. He decided in that moment to make sure nothing happened to Jason, remembering the stern look on Ms. Voorhees’ face.