Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wind bit at her arms as she shivered, huddling closer to the campfire. The camp captain was droning on and on about the virtues of good character, singing in church, and all that stuff—she wasn't paying any attention, even if she knew she'd get in trouble for it later. It wasn't like she didn't care what he had to say, though she had to admit she wasn't too invested in this latest parable. No, it was more that the wind numbed her fingers and the incense burnt her eyes, and this was only the first night. She didn't even remember what cabin she was in, and it wasn't like she had any friends here she could ask. She supposed the only saving grace (how ironic) was that everyone else there wanted to be there exactly as little as she did. If she had her way, she'd be asleep in her bed at her dad's house right now. Instead her mom sent her to this stupid camp because she knew her dad wouldn't—couldn't, really—say no to her.

"Riley," called the captain, who she'd unfortunately met earlier after she was caught not paying attention during orientation. It looked like the other campers had already left for their cabins, but she'd completely zoned out and missed it. "Riley, it's time to go. Hey, anybody in there?" It took the captain waving his hand in front of her face for her to finally manage a nod, and the captain sighed. "Do you even remember what cabin you're in, kid?"

A small shake of her head, and the captain pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, pointing with the other to a dilapidated-looking shack on the far side of the camp. She shuddered—it hardly looked like it was habitable, much less safe to enter. It had to have been decades since someone had inspected these buildings, if they ever had. She didn't think the Summer Scouts were registered with the state; without a doubt they had some Scriptural excuse for it, but all it meant to her was that they weren't held accountable if anything went wrong out here.

Riley stood up, bracing herself against her legs—heavy as lead, just like her eyelids. It took her a moment to mumble out a thank-you to the Captain, staring at her feet all the while, before trudging off towards the cabin marked "West". Though the sign had been thoroughly defaced over the years, hardly legible in the dim electronic light of the porch light fixture, she could at least recognise the letter W carved into the wood. She froze at the threshold, her fists clenched at her sides and her heart pounding in her chest—then tentatively opened the door and stepped inside.

She immediately took note of how shoddily the room was constructed, with the floorboards creaking and cracking as she stepped in, and warily regarded the garbage bin sitting under a leaky spot in the roof. Worst of all, the cabin was drafty, and she had to share it with two other people for the rest of camp. Somewhere between angry, frustrated, and tired, she threw herself onto her mattress, which gave a loud, metallic squeak of protest as if she'd personally insulted it.

A loud noise came from the other side of the room, too—someone had jumped up and shouted, though it was a meek kind of shout. Riley sprang up and scrambled to face the source of the noise, a petrified-looking doe-eyed girl sitting cross-legged on the other bed in the room, with the rest of the floor taken up by bags and an inflatable mattress. The only thing on the mattress was a phone plugged into the sole electrical outlet, which looked like it could burn the cabin down at any second. The poor girl across from her, though, still looked as if she'd been slapped in the face.

"I'm sorry!" shouted Riley, pressing back against the wall. Her hand moved to her wrist, reaching for something that wasn't there, so she was left awkwardly holding her arm. At the same time, the doe-eyed girl hugged her arms to her chest and said, "I'm sorry."

They awkwardly stared at each other until the phone on the mattress buzzed insistently. Relieved by the break in tension, Riley asked, "Is that yours?"

The girl shook her head. "No, it's not. Is it—" She shook her head. "No, sorry, of course it's not yours, you were the one who asked first, sorry." Her voice was lower than Riley had expected, given her slightly petite frame and soft features—though she had somewhat of a similar structure to Riley's own tomboyish form, at least in the shoulders, leading her to briefly imagine what this girl would look like wearing her jacket. She gently ran her thumb along the reddish-purple mark that marred the inside of her wrist.

The tension in the room returned after a moment, and neither said anything as they unpacked the rest of their things. Still, she couldn't help but look back at the empty mattress. Who was the third mystery tenant of her cabin? She wouldn't go snooping through their phone to find out, but she still wanted to—

The door to the cabin swung open, then slammed shut, kicking up dust in the confined space. A tall, dark-skinned, distractingly beautiful girl walked in, and both of the other occupants stared at her; Riley reached again for her wrist. The new arrival ignored them and flopped onto the mattress with a loud sigh, picking up the phone and quickly becoming entranced by it. Every so often it would buzz, she'd occasionally snort or even giggle, and every time Riley dug her nails into her palms just a bit more.

It seemed that the doe-eyed girl hadn't averted her gaze, however, given the sudden outburst from the phone-girl once she'd finally looked up. "What are you staring at? Mind your own business." Riley looked over and the doe-eyed girl shrank back, sitting on her bed with the wall to her back.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I was just... distracted." 

The girl on the mattress scowled in response. "Then be distracted at someone else." She returned to her phone and said nothing else, but the doe-eyed girl still seemed rather upset over it. The rain had started to pelt the roof of the cabin, and the dripping from the leak in the ceiling picked up a steady rhythm.

Riley continued holding her wrist and sneaking glances over to the girl. Tentatively, she said, "So, uh... my name is—"

"Don't," said the girl on the mattress, looking annoyed. "We're not supposed to, and normally I'd jump at a chance to break the rules, but it helps to not get attached."

Riley frowned. "You're making it sound like we're... going to die, or something..."

Neptune grinned. "Oh, don't worry. We'll just fail at everything, publicly, which is so, so much worse. Since you clearly skipped orientation—good choice, by the way—they give us nicknames based on what the counselors think our worst vice is, so that we can't talk to each other once we leave camp. Not like we'd want to, anyway. It's bad enough having to be around all these stupid, repressed assholes here who are still trying to be good. The sexual tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but at least most of it doesn't last past the first week." Riley imagined exactly what she meant by that, then frowned harder and took the hair tie out of her hair, slipping it over her hand and snapping it on her wrist in one fluid motion. No one seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn't comment on it.

"What's wrong with them being good, Neptune?" asked the doe-eyed girl. "Just because we're not, doesn't mean that they shouldn't try."

Riley winced and said nothing, looking at her wrist.

"They're trying to be good. No one is. Not even the adults." The girl on the mattress—Neptune, apparently—turned to address Riley specifically, "The camp captain spends half of the camp off with his newest 'girlfriend', every year. He shows pictures, and they're never the same woman." She scrunched up her nose. "Fucking hypocrite."

The cabin shook as thunder crashed outside, and Neptune started coughing violently. The doe-eyed girl looked over to her with concern; Neptune shot her a harsh glare in return, and she stared at the floor instead. It didn't usually rain during the summer, much less storm. Riley assumed God must be punishing her, but then again, wasn't it the Devil who punished sinners? Why would you lead someone into sin only to punish them for it, anyway? It all seemed so... stupidly contrived. She paused for a moment, frowned, and snapped her hair tie against the red mark on her wrist.

Despite the weather, the sirens began to blare, their screeching muffled by the rain. "We should go to sleep," said Riley. "They say the Devil tempts you more at night."

"Dude, fuck the Devil. I don't care whatever he does or doesn't do. The Devil and God and the fucking camp captain can all go fuck off." The doe-eyed girl stared at Neptune in horror, and looked as if she was going to say something before Neptune scowled and continued, "What, did I kick your dog or something, Venus? I can say shit you don't like, you know. It's not illegal or anything."

Missing the tension, Riley just shrugged. "I dunno, I just… want to get out of here with my dignity intact." They were silent for a while, with Neptune glowering at the doe-eyed girl—Venus—who shied away from her as the sirens continued to drone, reminding them of the looming presence of the Devil in the woods, and all three were wishing they were anywhere else.

"It's getting late." No one was sure who'd spoken up. Venus knelt beside her bed and prayed. No one said anything in response, but Neptune scowled. Riley followed Venus' example, even though she wasn't sure what she should be praying about at this point. 'Lord, please fix me. Lord, please make me normal. Lord, please let someone push me off a ledge so I break my leg and get sent home. Amen.' She didn't think that prayer would be well-received by the counsellors who had to check their prayer logs but figured that half of them wouldn't care, anyway.

She supposed she should start with the mistakes she'd made since that's where her mother always started with her prayers. 'Lord, please forgive me, for I have sinned.' That sounded right, at least. She didn't know how she'd sinned, but it was a pretty safe bet that she had. 'I have ignored your word and guidance and fallen into temptation and sin.' There, that's good, too. Her mother said things like that all the time, so it must be true. 'We sin because our nature is to sin, and without you, we are doomed to fall into the Devil's embrace.' Her hand moved slightly, almost subconsciously, snapping her hair tie before returning to their clasped position. 'Such things lead to sin, evil, and lust, because we are corruptible, and you are without corruption.' She was at this point echoing what the camp captain had said in whatever parts of the lecture she managed to catch… she hoped she wasn't forgetting anything important. 'We know we must eat not of the apple of sin, but plant the seed of salvation in our hearts. In your everlasting name we pray, Amen.'

She sighed, releasing a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and opened her eyes. Venus was already asleep in her bed, while Neptune was clearly texting someone, face and shoulders lit up by her phone. From this angle, she almost even got a glimpse of—snap, the thought was cut off before it could even form. She grumbled and stood up slowly, trying not to alert either girl to her movement, and then flopped into her bed. Unathletic, graceless, a perfect maneuver for her in every aspect.

Neptune looked up from her phone and glowered, and Riley grimaced, rolling over to face the wall and pulling the covers over herself. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day. Maybe camp wasn't as bad as everyone was saying. Maybe God would put all the broken pieces of her back together, find some use for her wreckage. She fell asleep, dreaming of hands gently holding hers, and of rough, red storms beating against the roof of the cabin.

She woke before dawn the next morning, from the sound of gagging and coughing. She'd apparently turned over in her sleep, and her fingers felt funny—she'd left her hair tie on overnight again. Neptune was coughing into her hand, looking at her reflection in a mirror with bags under her eyes. She looked sickly, and Riley almost said something—asked if she was okay, if she needed help, if she should tell a counselor to get a doctor. But she didn't get a chance—Neptune stopped coughing and wiped her face with the back of her hand, then wiped her hand on the skirt of her uniform. Riley snorted at the display of disregard—the uniform absolutely sucked. She needed to remember to ask a counselor for an exemption; Venus seemed to have one, after all. She briefly thought about lying and claiming she had a medical reason, but felt guilty before the thought was even halfway formed. No way.

She sat up and stretched, pulling the hair tie off her wrist and putting her hair up in a messy ponytail. Neptune jerked suddenly and looked over to Riley—apparently she'd made a noise while stretching. Her hands trembled, like Riley knew hers did when she was anxious. She knew better than to mention it. "Sorry, uh… did I... wake you up?" she offered, no doubt looking just as awkward as she sounded, her hands awkwardly held in front of her.

Neptune snorted, though whether it was in laughter or derision Riley wasn't sure. "Dumbass." Riley felt a knot forming in her stomach and reached for her hair tie—not there, again—before she saw the mirthful smirk on Neptune's face. "Don't play dumb, I know my coughing woke you up. Don't lie to make other people feel better, it's annoying." She sat down on the edge of her bed and unplugged her phone from the outlet, laying back on her bed and staring up at it. After a moment, in which Riley's gaze never left her, she looked over and said "Breakfast's at six. You've got like thirty minutes to get ready. I'll be late, I always am. Bathroom's the building near the mess hall, and that's the wide building on the other side of camp." Riley nodded resolutely and stood up, grabbing a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. She just had to hurry to not miss breakfast.

As it turned out, maybe hurrying was the wrong idea. Halfway there her foot caught on a tree root, and she fell over—directly onto the person in front of her, who she hadn't even seen in the dim light of the sunrise. Weren't they supposed to have lights and stuff on when it was dark out? It was pretty unsafe to just let a bunch of dumb teenagers walk around in the dark just to have to get ready in time. Maybe it was her bad, though, were they supposed to have brought flashlights? But the person she fell on didn't have one either.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by that very person speaking. "Hey! What the fuck?" She scrambled to get up, but couldn't coordinate enough to. It looked like the person she fell on got up, though, so hopefully there were no hard feelings.

Another voice, feminine, from the side, and she was nudged with someone's boot. "Hey. What do you think you're doing?" Oh no.

A third one, from the other side, did the same but harder, giving her the impression she might have a bruise on that side later. "Hey. Get up, dumbass." Oh no.

The first one spoke again. "Are you deaf or something? Get up!"

The third, in turn, "Yeah, are you deaf? Come on!" The second one, who she could still only barely see, gave them both a weird look before sighing.

"Yeah, like, get up before we make you or whatever."

Chapter Text

Riley slowly pushed herself up, her hands covered in dirt and her knees scraped, maybe bleeding. She didn't really care, though, because everything always ached anyway. What a fuckup. "Sorry. I, uh—"

She was immediately cut off by the person she'd fallen on, apparently the ringleader of the group. "Why'd you fall on me?" They stood there with their arms crossed, the other two flanking them in the same posture. All of them were wearing the camp uniform, though one had a hat on. At the very least she felt less self-conscious about her jacket, now.

She opened her mouth to reply before one of the ones on the side cut in. "Yeah, why'd you do that?"

Before the third could get a word in, she blurted out, "Because I tripped, okay? " Her face was burning red and she felt like her lungs were on fire and her throat was closing up but God help her she wasn't going to let these three see that. The third one, with the ponytail, didn't seem too bothered by being cut off, but it was more than made up for by the second's indignation. At least they seemed to be waiting for their leader's cue to rip into her.

To Riley's surprise, however, they laughed—maybe at her expense, she couldn't tell—before the leader asked, "I like your take-no-shit style, newbie. So what group are you in? Us, we're Group South. The best. If you haven't heard of us, you definitely will by Wednesday." The other two simply nodded instead of parroting their leader.

"Wait, what's on Wednesday?" She squatted down—she wasn't about to kneel in the dirt given how badly she busted up her knees—and started to look for the tube of toothpaste she'd dropped. The three looked between each other, seeming a bit confused.

"Uh, the weekly challenge? The first one."

"Yeah, the first one. There's four."

"Yeah, four, one every Wednesday."

Their whole schtick was starting to get on her nerves a bit. Why couldn't one of them just make a complete thought on their own, instead of having to get the others to finish it? "Right... I guess you guys do... pretty well in it, then?" She found the tube of toothpaste in a puddle of mud, cap still securely attached, and sighed. "And do you guys know what way the bathroom is?"

"Do pretty well? We're the best!" She didn't even bother listening to the other two, whichever they were; she felt a bit guilty that she didn't care to tell them apart, but she pushed that out of her mind.

"Look, it was real nice talking with you… three," she mentally scorned herself for that pause, "but I just need to know the way to the bathroom, so I'm not late to breakfast…"

"Come on, newbie, we'll tell you after you tell us which group you're in."

"Yeah, what group are you in? Can't be anything worse than Group West."

"Yeah, West's the worst. Well, I mean, all three of them were insufferable, but at least they managed to never be the absolute worst at things." That word, 'insufferable', was the longest word she'd heard out of any of them so far. She was replacing someone, then? Were Venus and Neptune expecting her to fill the hole in their group left by whoever she replaced?

Evidently, her worry was showing on her face; the ringleader of the group gave a low whistle. "So you're in West, huh? The replacement? Sucks to be you, I guess."

"Yeah, really sucks to be you." That was the one who'd kicked her hard in the side; she could feel the apathy in their words. It was completely hollow.

"Yeah, we're sorry for you," added the one who was obviously the least confrontational of the three. After a pause and some odd looks from their groupmates they added, "Not really, though. Ha."

She already had a headache from the fall, but now she could feel every heartbeat in her skull and in her knees and she felt like she might puke at any second. Her ears were ringing, she thought she might cry and her throat might close up—she was seriously just the replacement , a spare, an outsider.

Their frontman continued, "Don't worry, though. Venus and Neptune weren't friends or anything. I don't think she's ever even talked to Venus except to shit on him."

Wait. What? Before either of the other two could add their two redundant cents, she blurted out, "Wait, Venus is a guy?" Her voice nearly gave out halfway through for no reason (or, well, no good reason), and she took a few deep breaths to try to steady herself from her almost-crying-fit. The only response to that question was uproarious laughter, and a light shove in what she hoped was the direction of the bathrooms, with their laughter and conversation continuing until she was out of earshot.

She eventually found the mess hall after a while of walking, and as the adrenaline from her fall wore off she felt her knees hurting more and more. There were at least half a dozen kids milling about outside, though it seemed they weren't letting anyone into the mess hall yet anyway. Was more than half the camp seriously not even here yet? The constant punctuality drilled into her by her mother— "if you're early, you're on time, and if you're on time, you're late" —meant she left way earlier than she needed to, and she sighed as she rounded the corner of the building to head to the bathrooms. A row of sinks was right by the door, with the only other thing in the room being the doors to both the boys' and girls' bathrooms; she supposed that at least it would make brushing her teeth in the morning easy, but she was still a little skeeved out by the thought of having to share a changing room with other campers—she snapped her hair tie on her wrist, though she barely felt it over the pain in her knees—though at least the showers were separate, so that wouldn't be an issue. She washed off the tube of toothpaste (the toothbrush was thankfully unscathed throughout the ordeal) and brushed her teeth, managing to only jump a little any time she looked up and noticed someone walking past her in the cracked mirror.

She shoved the tube of toothpaste and the toothbrush into her pocket, cursing herself for not bringing a bag or a backpack with her. By the time she'd finally finished and gone outside, it seemed like everyone was going into the mess hall, so she followed suit. There were a bunch of small, clearly self-made wooden tables with tiny one or two-person benches around, like someone's fever dream recollections of a picnic table; she spotted Group South and walked over to take a seat with them, but they laughed when she tried to sit down.

"You can't sit here. This is Group South's table."

"You can't sit here. Are you in Group South?"

"You can't sit here. Go sit with Group West."

She sighed and, spotting Venus and Neptune, went over to sit with them. Venus had a notebook and was writing something in it, while Neptune was on her phone and didn't seem to pay her much attention at all. Since neither of them objected, she took a seat.

By the time Riley had convinced herself to ask the group about the person she replaced, and almost worked up the courage to actually try and get the words out, it was officially breakfast, and everyone got up to fill their plates with whatever they were serving. It turned out, Riley noted as she absentmindedly chewed, that whoever was cooking wasn't the greatest chef, as these eggs were unsalted and had the consistency of rubbery slop. She didn't really mind, though, because her dad couldn't cook to save his life; she rarely ever got food poisoning anymore, but even his best wasn't that palatable. She still loved him for it.

She ate the rest of her food, including some similarly-rubbery bacon and a piece of burnt toast, in silence, not looking over to the other two for most of it. She hadn't seen Neptune get up to eat, but her plate was already down to crumbs, while Venus idly prodded and stabbed at his food with a fork. His eyes were a bit unfocused, as if he was picturing something in detail—she wished she knew what, but wasn't about to ask him. Her mom would do the same thing sometimes, and snapped at her any time she asked about it.

"Are you, like, always staring or something?" She blinked, her eyes darting around, until she finally noticed that Neptune was looking at her instead of her phone. After a moment, she realised she was staring at Venus; at some point Venus realised that too, because he let out a quiet yelp and grabbed his notebook, holding it to his chest.

"Uh… y—no. I was, uh. Distracted." Great. She did it again. What an awful replacement she was turning out to be. "I was just…" she paused, cursing herself for not thinking faster, "Wondering what my, uh, nickname is going to be."

"Well, you're not gonna be waiting long, since it's almost time anyway." Neptune immediately went back to her phone, and Riley looked over at Venus again out of the corner of her eye. His notebook appeared to have sheets of graph paper sticking out, with bent and torn corners, pages stuffed in haphazardly and creased and folded to fit; Riley couldn't help but wonder what all of them were. On the other side of the mess hall, the counselors were fiddling with a projector. Even the one closer to her own age, maybe a year or two older at most, wasn't having much luck getting it to work, and Riley didn't think she'd be much help either. Not that she was complaining; maybe they'd have to delay the whole naming deal a few hours, or just cancel camp altogether and she could go stay with her dad and why was Venus walking over to them?

After about ten seconds of talking with the counselors—the younger one gave him a weird look but didn't say anything—he reached over to the projector, pressed a button, and… nothing. Before he could try anything else, though, the harsh buzzing and wailing of the sirens cut in, causing a couple of the counselors to jump, while some of the others glared at Venus, who seemed pretty flustered. While the other groups whispered among themselves, Venus talked with the counselors—or maybe vice versa—before he walked back to their group table.

Riley sat with her hands in her lap, stewing over her earlier scolding by the captain as she waited for the counselors to start whatever presentation they had planned, apparently without the projector. After the sirens finally died down, the camp captain stepped up to the microphone they had set up, and tapped it to make sure it was on—unfortunately filling the entire room with feedback for a short moment, making everyone wince. He was an older, slightly overweight man with a benign expression, which kind of reminded her of Venus' face when he stared off into space with that unfocused look. It was kind of uncanny, honestly, and she couldn't even imagine Venus ending up like the captain… but she shuddered at the thought anyway.

"Alright, everybody, how're y'all doin'?" He had an obnoxious drawl and she was absolutely sure he didn't sound like that last night, but she usually couldn't accurately remember thirty minutes ago, much less the night before, so she shrugged it off. Her mom always made sure to rub in how awful her memory was, so she usually just went with whatever.

It seemed the noncommittal response from the campers wasn't enough for him, as he asked again—it seemed he'd already asked another time, too, as now everyone's eyes were on her. Neptune jabbed her in the ribs with a finger—she looked around, realised the room was deadly silent, and offered up a tentative, "Yes, sir?"

The entire room lit up with laughter before she could correct her mistake, and the captain frowned. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised," he mused, "backtalk is common in the West. At least you'll fit in." More laughter, but at least they'd broken the ice at her expense. Neptune was frowning, and Venus looked like she—no, he—had been slapped in the face. She even noticed one of the counselors frowning, too; the young one, who'd given Venus that look earlier. The look disappeared about as fast as it had appeared, though, and she mingled back into the group of counselors, just as blank and faceless as the rest.

After the room settled down, the captain continued, "Let's get something clear, first." Riley winced; despite standing next to a microphone, the camp captain made no attempt to use it, instead raising his voice for those in the back, which was almost painful for those up front. "You are not here because you are a 'bad kid', whatever that means. We are all here because we are tainted by the Fall of Man. Each of us has the seed of sin inside of us, and while some of us spend time with God, plucking out the weeds before the Devil can put down roots, others let sin grow in their hearts unchecked." So that's what this was about. She had a guilty heart. She thought back to the day before her mother decided to send her off to camp—flashes of memories that she'd rather not remember, feelings she wished she'd never felt—and snapped her hair tie on her wrist, leaving it aching for far longer than it should've.

She didn't really catch the rest of his introductory speech; it went on for a while and was about mostly the same stuff, as far as she could tell. If she'd heard one sermon about the Devil, she'd heard them all; she'd heard way more than one. Everything in the mess hall felt comfortably distant; though she heard the captain's lectures, none of his fire-and-brimstone invective reached her, caught in the layers of fuzz she could feel wrapped around her mind, keeping everything out. Some other campers were called up, the captain gave a short speech laden with Bible verses, most of them sulked and skulked back to their seats with their groups. A member of the North— "'a sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy the rottenness of the bones,' " intoned the Captain; two in the Northeast— "'but if any provide not for his own, and especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel;' therefore I rebuke you, he who holds himself above his father and mother and brother " —no one in the East or Southeast, looked like two-thirds of Group East had ditched the meeting anyway. South was already all accounted for, so no one there was called up; they looked so smug that the Captain paused his speech to give them a glare. Her hands felt like they were freezing, she felt a tightness in her chest as someone in Group Southwest was called up—"' again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God'" —then it was her turn.

Her feet were like ice and she moved sluggishly to the stage, stepped onto it with a languid gait and nearly stumbled, trying and failing to ignore the laughter of the other campers. Her face was burning red and ice cold, and as she stood in silence facing the Camp Captain she imagined her hands reaching out, grabbing his throat and squeezing tight, until—her hair tie snapped hard against her wrist and she hissed through her teeth, rubbing her thumb over what would no doubt be an angry welt on her wrist later. She braced herself and looked back at the Captain, who immediately launched back into his sermon.

"We know that the Devil has its talons in all of our hearts, but none so much as those who venerate him instead of the Lord," he drawled, and she felt every pair of eyes in the room bearing down on her. "The Devil was God's chosen, blessed with divine power, intelligence, and beauty beyond our understanding. He understood the Lord's plan and his role in it, and was tasked with carrying it out."

Oh. She knew this one. She'd heard it growing up all the time.

"And even though he was given such a blessed role by God, he used his free choice, a gift from God, to sin against His design. Those who do not know of God's plan will receive His divine mercy, and those who follow it will receive His divine blessing. Yet those who know of His plan and choose to disobey it, as the Devil did, shall surely receive His divine and unerring wrath!"

Her fingers twitched, a hand starting to move to her hair tie before she stopped herself, determined not to flinch or even move as the Captain stared her down.

" 'The ignorant man who seeks to replace the Lord's plan with his own foolish errand reveals himself as the most wretched and pitiful beast.' 2 Elagabalus 1:9, the Lord's Word, given as an example for His people. Those who follow in His example shall be rewarded, and those who fail will be left behind—but those who hold themselves above Him are cast out. For your sin against God's plan and the Holy Ghost, you will be known as Jupiter, the King of Heathens." 

Riley—Jupiter now, she supposed—let out a breath she'd been holding for who knows how long, her shoulders slacking and tension leaving her body as the moment came and passed. The silence rang in her ears as she left the stage. "That's it for now, folks. Everyone's accounted for. Finish breakfast, then the counselors'll come get you for your service projects."

Jupiter took a seat with the rest of Group West: Venus had retreated to his notebook, and Neptune was already giving her a sympathetic look. "You got the usual speech, don't worry. He was actually kinda soft on you, maybe he's worried you'll break or something."

She swallowed hard and snapped her hair tie. Even the captain at a camp for bad kids knew she was broken, and was walking on eggshells to make sure she didn't fall apart any more than she already had. She couldn't believe how inconsiderate she was being.

"Anyway, I mean, Saturn's was a lot harsher. He talked for maybe ten minutes straight, barely ever stopped to take a breath. Her dad probably—" Neptune stopped sharply, and Jupiter looked around to see why; nothing, at least as far as she could see. The counselors had left the stage and were sitting off in their own area, finishing up their food, though none of them looked particularly happy about being rushed. "Anyway, hope you're ready to fix radios and fences and shit like that. I don't do that kind of thing." Neptune immediately had her phone out again.

"... wait… won't you get in trouble? Like, the Captain said—"

Neptune cut her off with a bitter laugh that eventually turned into a hacking cough. She coughed into the crook of her arm, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and continued as if nothing had happened. "Hah. Like the Captain could do anything I'd care about. Besides, as long as I'm there the counselors don't give a shit."

Venus winced, closing his notebook, and before Jupiter could reply she heard a disapproving tsk to the side. Just their luck—the counselor in charge of them had come over at some point in their conversation, apparently. She was the young counselor who'd briefly looked, if not upset, then at least mildly put-off by the Captain using them as the butt of a joke. That made it a bit better, at least.

"Yeah, we'll see about that. Are you three ready to do some work?" The counselor crossed her arms, and Neptune, not replying or even moving, looked like she'd just stepped in something gross, while Venus was staring off into the distance again. They were all done with breakfast, so Jupiter stood up, ruining Neptune's brief attempt at defiance. "Alright, come on. We're going to handle the sirens first; I know you two," she said, gesturing to Venus and Neptune, who had begrudgingly stood up, "know what you're doing, so you're sitting this out until Jupiter," she jabbed a thumb in her direction, "fixes the first one."

"You know I wouldn't do anything anyway, right, Saturn?" snarked Neptune, before going back to her phone.

"Obviously. I had to pull your weight—" She quickly stopped herself, and Neptune looked rather pleased at having made the counselor—Saturn, she supposed—uncomfortable. After clearing her throat, she started again, "I know you wouldn't. I just thought it would be a good idea to tell everyone the rules—"

"I don't care about rules, I'm not gonna follow them anyway. You know this shit, Sat." Saturn scowled at being interrupted by Neptune again, and Jupiter took a step back. This woman was a counselor? She sounded just as bitter as Neptune, and they seemed to know each other, too.

Her heart sank as she put two and two together. Oh. Saturn must be the group member she'd replaced. The name fit, after all; the rest of the groups had names like 'Achilles' and 'Elagabalus' and 'Mary' and 'Cain', but only Group West had names like that. As the other two followed the counselor, she stayed at a distance, slowly falling farther behind. There was no way she was about to butt into something like this and make things worse, especially not after causing it. These people were supposed to be the closest thing to friends she had at this stupid camp, and she was already screwing up. All she had to do was just step a bit more out of line, and then they'd be sure to hate her; everyone eventually did. She was good at lying to people, making them like her; she was manipulative like that.

"Jupiter." She didn't look up for a moment; it took her far too long to remember that that was her name now, for the rest of camp (and for however many years she gets sent back; she shuddered at the thought of becoming a counselor and spending even longer at this stupid camp), and by then the damage was already done. "Hey, keep up, come on," Saturn—admonished? No, it didn't seem like it. Despite how much she'd expected it, Saturn wasn't berating her for being slow. Yet, at least.

Jupiter stood there, mouth open—she had to say something. Come on. Come on. Talk. "You're... not mad at me?" That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"What? Why would I be mad?" Saturn frowned, taking a few steps in her direction. "Everything okay, Jupiter? We still have a few minutes until we have to start our first task, so there's no rush, but try not to get separated." No. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. The counselors were awful, the others here were terrible, they all hated her or at least they should hate her because she does and why was Saturn being nice to her when she ruined everything?

Neptune stood there with her hands on her hips and frowned, and Venus just looked confused—then again, he kind of always did. Half the time he looked like a kicked puppy, so she couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. She blinked, her vision went back into focus and now Saturn was standing way closer, looking directly at her—shuddering, Jupiter immediately snapped her hair tie on her wrist and took a step back, putting on her best fake smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine… don't worry about me," she replied, and although she could feel just how strained her smile was, Saturn bought it. "Just got distracted for a minute. You know me," she offered, faking a laugh and rubbing the sore spot on her wrist with her thumb. "Let's keep going." Neptune and Saturn seemed satisfied with that, but Venus still looked concerned. She gave her best shot at a half-smile and that, too, was solved. Her mask was firmly in place now; she wouldn't have to worry about anyone figuring out that she wasn't really a Good Kid, that she was just as messed up as everyone else at this camp.