Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: SCHITT’S CREEK OUTDOOR SCHOOL
“UGH. David, there’s like no reception wherever you are. You keep freezing up.”
“Mkay it’s a parking lot Alexis, I’m not even in the woods yet,” David rolls his eyes. He’s waving his phone around, up on his tip toes, as if that might yield a better reception.
“But how does a school not have a good wifi situation? Don’t you need it to like- I don’t know, do a computer course?” Even though the blurry image on his phone is jumpy, he can tell Alexis has her own device propped up so she can properly file her nails. Switzerland is a good five or six hours ahead, and god knows where his sister was headed any given time of day.
“Does yours? You’re the one who convinced mom and dad you deserved fancy boarding school.”
“David you know mom just wanted to keep you close to home incase the bullying started up again.”
“It was a passive aggressive whisper campaign, and it was not that bad.”
“Whatever you say David.” Alexis draws her attention back to her cuticles. “Could be a cute look for you though. High school in the middle of the woods, maybe find a handsome, rugged lumberjack person?”
“It’s only a half hour from the country house. And please, can you imagine this,” David manically gestures to his upper body, “in the middle of the woods?! It’s almost like that hunting party Elton invited me to.”
David peeks beyond his phone at the tree line that hugs the gravel parking lot. Eventually, he’ll have to walk under that tacky wooden archway leading into the rest of the camp. Camp of course was a loose term that only applied in the summer months. The banner strung in the entryway read “Schitt’s Creek Outdoor Education Centre.” Ew. Alexis calls him back to the present.
“David you said you were done with nature after you met me in Norway last week to hand over new contacts at the consulate.”
“Exactly! And that little trip cost me the first week of school. Now I’m stuck in this fucking program.”
“How exactly is this my fault?!”
David is too busy fuming at just how wrong Alexis is about the whole situation to notice a kind and gentle presence from behind. Someone places a hand on his shoulder, clearing their throat.
“God!”, David jumps, his phone falling out of his hand and onto dusty, over-treaded gravel.
The man before him is smiling expectantly, hands clasped together, eyes piercing with what seems like concern and enthusiasm. (He’s clearly much more excited to be there than David).
David grimaces.
“Hi.”
The man breaks into a smile with all his teeth. He’s wearing a polo shirt, khakis, and crocs. (Crocs!)
“Hi! Sorry to interrupt your call, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you David Rose?”
David’s grimace somehow grows as he crouches down in attempt to rescue his phone.
“Uh huh.”
This man almost bounces in excitement.
“Wonderful! I’m Ray,” he extends his right hand to shake David’s. David lazily switches the hand holding his phone, ignoring the tinny echo of his sister’s video call, and takes “Ray” ’s hand in return. Ray continues, smile somehow still plastered on his face.
“We’re so excited to have you with us for this semester of school. All the other students of course started last week and have already gotten to know each other, but I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”
“Ray,” David tries his name on for size. (He doesn’t like it. Is this man a teacher here?) “Am I in the right place? I thought I registered for an art intensive semester.”
Ray nods, clasping his hands back together agin. He seems like the kind of grown man who would visit Disneyworld unironically.
“Oh you are! English and art are only my half of the courses, but we market to the more creative students just to make sure we don’t have a class full of Boy Scouts. As you can see,” Ray turns and gestures to the rest of the parking lot, ignoring the beautiful vintage David drove to campus in. “The bus from the public high school already arrived some time ago, so we best get going if you want to make the end of morning circle.”
David barely has time to take in the disgusting yellow school bus sitting in the parking lot before he registers what Ray is asking of him.
“Morning circ- I’m sorry, have I been indoctrinated into a cult?”
Ray shrugs, effectively ignoring him. He’s still smiling.
“Welcome to Schitt’s Creek Outdoor School!”
Ray places a hand on David’s back, gently pushing him forward in the space between his shoulder blades. It’s too bad his backpack has been sitting on the hood of his car, or else he could easily ask to retrieve it from inside and simply drive away. (It wouldn’t be the first time David has driven away, but given how much it’s become a pattern, he tells himself not to risk it this time.) Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he heads with “Ray” (is he seriously a teacher?) through the cursed archway. It feels like he’s Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap, though having both a twin and Alexis for siblings sounds like a handful.
The gravel pathway continues into a fork. On their left, it goes into a luscious vegetable garden sprawled in front of a large log cabin (it’s all very Parent Trap), the path veering to the right outlines a small field, where a group of other teenagers are standing in what David can only assume to be “morning circle.” (Still ew). His Rick Owens have enough of a crunch on the pathway for the group to notice. The two girls closest to the path see David and Ray coming, opening up space for them to join. One is in a flowery sundress and sneakers, hair in a high ponytail. She smiles, as if she’s happy to see them. The other is in a wrinkly flannel and ripped jeans, loose dark hair framing an amused smirk. Her eyes trail up and down, taking note of David’s pristine monochrome. He squints back at her, screaming I thought this was an art school at picturesque retreat centre, with his mind.
She all but guffaws.
David averts her gaze, trying to comb through the rest of his presumed classmates. He’s interrupted by an older man at the opposite side of the circle, in a scraggly goatee and baseball cap, holding a thermos of what he hopes is coffee. He clears his throat.
“Thanks so much for finally joining us, champ. I thought you were going to keep driving and end up at the golf course.” He sucks in some odd kind off laugh. The girl wrinkly plaid smirks, but no one seems as amused as this teacher.
“I’m Roland. I’m the groundskeeper and I teach the outdoor activities class. Everyone please give a warm welcome to David Rose, our new student.”
David winces and raises a finger, opening his mouth before he can stop himself.
“I’m not actually new though.”
Roland rolls his eyes. “Haven’t even started the day and some one already wants to use the talking stick. Alright kids, I’m sending you inside for English class with Ray. I’ll see you after lunch when we hop into the lake.”
Hop into the lake? What does hop into the lake mean?? David’s eyes are the size of golfballs. The circle breaks up as everyone goes to grab their backpacks. Ray turns around towards the large cabin, leading the group. David is frozen, watching. Among the throngs (Okay it’s closer to twelve people.) (But it still feels like a throng.), a very tall, very handsome boy in plaid passes him, smiling and winking. Why was every other person wearing plaid?? He notices most people are wearing sneakers or Birkenstocks, and clad in the only kind of polyblend fabric David deems appropriate (athleisure, obviously).
He feels a sharp nudge in his ribs. An elbow, from the girl beside him.
“Hey,” her voice practically monotone. “You should probably close your mouth. Bug might fly into it.”
“Ew!” David’s mouth effectively shuts, following her along the path as they trail behind the other students. “What is this fucking place?” David whispers to her.
She looks up at him innocently and blinks. “I’m sorry were you hoping this was a bad mushroom trip?”
“Mm no thanks. I just saved my sister from a Midsommar-esque adventure and I’d rather not relive that.”
She snickers. She thinks it’s funny.
“I’m Stevie,” she grips her hands on her messenger bag, lowering her voice. “I brought a joint with me for lunch, but I think it should be saved for another day.”
David narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re dangling weed in the face of some one you just met, but refuse to share?”
At this point they’ve reached the door leading into the cabin. A cabin. Stevie is unmoving.
“Not that you don’t seem cool, but I wouldn’t recommend canoeing while high.”
David is left hanging in the door frame, bag slumped at his feet. Stevie is pulling of her shoes (why?) and turning to head down the hall, following suit with everyone else.
“Canoeing???” David’s voice goes up an octave.
At this point the only person left in the entry way is pale boy with auburn hair, wearing a baseball-style shirt with blue sleeves. He’s unlacing some sturdy looking mountaineering-type shoes, and looks back at David. His smile is much kinder than Stevie’s, but his eyes are just as wide.
“Yup, canoeing.” He parrots back at him.
Fuck.