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McKinley was a man of routine. With life as hectic as his, it was impossible not to be. Without some kind of consistent pattern throughout his days, it was easy to get chewed up and swallowed by the frantic hustle and bustle of being a teenager- especially at camp.
Like clockwork, every morning at 6:30 AM, McKinley is roused by the shrill chirping of his alarm clock. Never earlier, and never later.
He laces up the same brand of running shoes he’s worn since a child (Nike Pegasuses, naturally), and is ready to start the day with his regular run. Except today is a little different, with storm clouds looming overhead. For a second, McKinley considers calling off the entire idea, but that would completely break his running streak of 739 days. McKinley was a man of habit, and he was going to stick to his routine.
But now, as he lays on a paper examining bed in Nurse Nancy’s office, writhing in pain, he realizes how totally dumb that idea was.
The storm had rolled in quicker than he expected, pelting down on the trail, making it incredibly hard to see just a few feet ahead of him- let alone make any footing on the muddy path. It wasn’t long before he slipped and fell, landing quite awkwardly, and without a doubt fucking up his ankle. It was by the grace of Jesus himself (or whatever Jewish higher power, because after all, Camp Firewood was a Jewish camp) that McKinley was able to hobble back to the infirmary to get some help from Nancy. Too bad she was such a bitch today, thought McKinley.
“Stop being dramatic, McKinley,” Nancy says as she finishes examining his injury, then looking up sharply. “It’s a twisted ankle. Not even a break, so stop acting like it is.”
“Sure feels like it, though…” He grumbles, observing as the nurse retrieves a roll of Ace Bandages, then tightly wrapping his ankle. She shakes her head in response. “You’re lucky it wasn’t anything worse. You’d have to sit out of camp activities for the next few weeks as it healed.”
McKinley huffs. How tragic that would be. He was more upset about breaking his run streak.
“Honestly, you’ll be fine, walking around like normal by the end of today,” continues Nancy. “You can stay in my office until you feel you’re ready to go, though. But you have to stop with the moaning and groaning.” She pins the bandage flat against his leg, then grins up at McKinley. “Besides, I thought your boyfriend was supposed to be the dramatic one.”
McKinley rolls his eyes. If Nancy hadn’t wrapped his leg in such a superb fashion, he’d probably reply with a sharp retort, but he abandons that idea pretty quickly. He got to spend the day in the air-conditioned infirmary, and she had made him a cup of red Gatorade. There wasn’t much to complain about here.
It doesn’t take long for word to spread about McKinley’s accident, and Ben, being the wonderfully caring and sweet boyfriend he is, is the first to come to visit.
He arrives shortly after the breakfast dismissal bell chimes, holding a well-stocked plate of food to make up for the meal McKinley had missed. Susie, of course, is in tow, and McKinley can’t help but groan. “Why’d you bring her?”
Ben shoots him a sharp look. “Hey, ‘Kinley! Don’t say that! Susie is my very best friend and co-star and co-director.” He scolds.
“Besides, I provided an excellent distraction for Gene while your boyfriend, forward-slash, my best friend, snuck a plate of breakfast out for you.” Susie crosses her arms in front of Banana Republic branded chest. “You wouldn’t be eating it it wasn’t for me.”
McKinley huffs again, poking around at the weak-looking meal with a mangled fork stolen from the dining hall. “How’re rehearsals?”
Ben opens his mouth to respond, but Susie beats him to it. “Good, obviously,” She says, with one hand on her hip. She then glares at Ben. Sorry, her best friend forward-slash co-star forward-slash co-director, Ben. “But we gotta split if we’re gonna be there before the kids are.”
McKinley wishes that Ben could stay in the infirmary all day, lounging around and killing time together. Still, he knows he has actual work to do at this camp, unlike most of the counselors at Firewood. “M’Kay. Have a good day, you two.”
Ben places a chaste kiss on McKinley’s lips, painfully aware of Susie’s presence. “Feel better, ‘Kinley.” He says with a smile. “I’ll be back soon.”
When the infirmary door creaks open next, McKinley expects Ben to be returning and subsequently smoothes out his hair. Instead, it’s Coop, soaking wet from the turbulent weather outside. He’s panting too. “You look like you’ve had a hard day.” Quips McKinley, sitting up from his laying position, hospital bed paper crinkling as he does so.
“Ran all the way here from the stables,” says Coops between labored breath. He wrings out his t-shirt, then his mop of hair into a puddle on to the linoleum floor. McKinley scrunches his nose, then returns to the conversation. “Oh, well, you didn’t have to do that, I’m fine, really-” McKinley says, only to be cut off by Coop.
“No, dude. I’m not here for… that.” He motions towards McKinley’s bandaged ankle. “I’m here cuz I’m having dating issues with Katie.”
“Like… Katie Katie?” He replies, unable to hide his puzzlement. “Like smooth pegasus hair, looks like she could be on a prime-time sitcom Katie?”
“Duh. My Girlfriend Katie.” Coop shakes his head like McKinley was impossibly stupid. “You always give the best advice, so I thought I’d ask you.”
McKinley can’t think of one occasion he’s ever given anyone advice, let alone Coop. He doubts his cynical nature would make for any good information, but he bites anyway. “Go on.”
Coop takes a seat next to McKinley, rain dripping off his jeans and into the paper sheet, then sighs. “You’re like...?” He makes a nodding motion.
“Gay?” says McKinley eyeing the sopping wet boy next to him. “Just call me gay.”
“Oh. Okay. Noted.” says Coop. “Anyways, I’m having a gay problem.”
McKinley’s eyes widen. What were the chances that there were three gay dudes at Camp Firewood? Was there something in the water?
Coop catches McKinley’s expression, then shakes his head vigorously. “No, dude. I’m not gay. But like, I think Katie is.”
“Did she tell you that or was she just trying to get you to stop bothering her?” Asks McKinley. Not a dig on Coop, but he would not put that past Katie. She could get clever when dodging guys.
“She didn’t say she was. I walked in on her making out with Lindsay.” Coop says laboredly.
“Oh, man,” says McKinley softly. “I’m sorry, getting cheated on sucks.” He wouldn’t know though, obviously, because Ben was perfect. Duh.
Coop looks at McKinley, squinting his eyes, obviously puzzled. “What are you talking about? She’s not cheating.” Coop says this like its perfectly obvious. “Katie told me that it’s not cheating when she makes out with a girl cuz it’s like… different plumbing.”
Now it’s McKinley’s turn to be confused. He can’t even choke out a few words before Coop begins talking again. “Anyways. Is like that a thing for gay guys too?” He asks.
“Not that I know of,” says McKinley, careful not to say anything that could crush Coop. “But I can ask Ben if you want.”
Coop nods fiercely. “I always thought of him as the gayer of you two, so he probably knows. Thanks, McKinley!”
McKinley waves as Coop leaves through the sliding door, stepping back into the pouring rain. It must be exhausting to be that naive.
The next to pop in is Andy. The rain had fortunately stopped, but it was still overcast. Andy must not have gotten the memo, as his aviator sunglasses are still on. He doesn’t as much of greet McKinley as he barges into the room. “Your girlfriend told me you got Gatorade.”
“Number one, Ben is very much a guy, I have evidence that proves my point,” says McKinley. “And two, Gatorade is only for the sick.” For some reason, this makes McKinley feel like he’s superior to the brooding teenage boy standing across the room from him, although the only thing winning him points here is a cup of watery sports drink.
“You only twisted your ankle. You’re not even sick.” He thrusts out his hand. “Gimme.”
“Fuck you, Gatorade is for sick kids only,” says McKinley, upturning his nose. He has to say: it feels pretty good to have the one up on someone as awesome as Andy.
Andy rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically and extensively. “Fine.” He sulks. “I’ll be back.” He turns sharply on his heel.
The next few hours is a bit of a lull for McKinley, as all the other counselors were busy working hard or not very hard at all at their skills. Ben and Susie were definitely drilling away at numbers for a Jewish retelling of West Side Story, Coop and the other guys were probably engaged in a fiery game of stickball, and Katie and Lindsay were perhaps having a wonderfully lesbian time teaching the wonders of macrame. In his boredom, McKinley wonders if their future sapphic dwelling would be decorated floor to ceiling with the textile craft.
He entertains himself by looting through all of Nancy’s drawers, knowing that she wouldn’t be back in the office until she returned from her weekly ‘medication run.’ Everyone knew that was just code for driving into town to meet her husband and have mediocre sex in the car. She wouldn’t be back for hours.
McKinley finds an abundant drawer of tongue depressors and medical tape and decides to build a popsicle stick house out of the materials. He’s just putting on the finishing touches on the craft when he hears a familiar voice. “Dude. That is so gay,” says Gary, leaning against the door, J.J. by his side.
“Fuck you, dude. If you were in this office all day with nothing to do you’d be playing house too.” McKinley eyes the cardboard box J.J.’s holding. “What’s in the box?”
“I just had a feeling you were doing absolutely nothing and was probably pretty bored. We stole a bunch of stuff from everyone’s cabins.” J.J. heaves the box into McKinley’s lap. “You can explain that when you return all of it. Or not.”
The box filled with a fine selection of comics, books, card games, and painfully straight nudie mags. “Jeez, thanks…” McKinley says, weakly, plucking the Playboy out with his finger and tossing it to Gary. “You can return that to Victor.”
“It’s definitely Andy’s, but no prob.” Gary replies, tucking the magazine in his apron. “Wanna play a game of Rummy before we have to return to our skills?”
McKinley eagerly agrees, excited for any interaction, and the three guys play the card game in peace before J.J. has to return to canoeing and Gary to the dining hall. It’s tacos for lunch, and McKinley is more than glad he’s going to be absent for this meal.
Although not much of a reader, McKinley pours over a beaten-up copy of Pride and Prejudice, mainly because it has ‘BENJAMIN RILEY COHEN - 11TH GRADE’ scribbled into the front cover. How fitting he used his entire name on something so unglamorous as a borrowed required reading book. That was so Ben.
He’s lost in the book by the time he gets the next visitor. Feeling romantic with all the mentions of this dude Mr. Darcy, he can’t help but wish it was Ben coming to visit. But it’s Katie.
“Hey, McKinley.” She says, leaning against the opening sliding door that he had opened for air. “Heard you got Gatorade.”
“Yeah, well, I heard you were gay,” McKinley replies, not looking up from the pages of the book.
“You say that like there’s no room for two queers in this town,” She says, unbothered by the accusation, peering into the styrofoam cup placed on the medical cart next to McKinley’s bed. “It’s red, and you know that’s my favorite. Not cool. Where is it?”
McKinley points across the room to one of the yellowing metal cabinets. Katie had been nothing but kind to McKinley, unlike Andy. He was more than happy to share his stash of powdered sports drink.
Katie fetches her cup, then sits next to McKinley on the bed. She peaks at the book. “Ben loves that book. It’s all he talked about last year when we taught dance together. And you, of course.” She then smiles at McKinley, shaking her head. “He loves you a lot, ya’ know.”
McKinley can’t help but redden, although he knows what she said already. Sometimes it’s still strange to hear aloud- how someone as perfect and beautiful and sweet as Ben could love him that much. “You’ll find someone one day too.” He replies.
Kaite shrugs, finishing off her drink, then hopping off the bed with a crinkle. “I think I already have.” She says casually, filling up her cup with another serving of Gatorade, then grabbing another cup, which McKinley knows is for Lindsay. “See ya.”
She leaves to attend her health and beauty skill, and McKinley curses himself for not asking if she’s going to decorate her shared apartment with Lindsay with macrame, just as he imagined. That would be so camp-chic, as Ben calls it.
Moments afterward, Victor and Neil make their way into the nurse’s office. “Hey,” says Victor, extending the last letter of the word into an annoying ‘Ay’ sound.
McKinley knows why they’re there, and cuts them off before they can say anything. “Ask for Gatorade, and I kick you both in the balls.”
The pair looks at each other with wide eyes, stammering out excuses together. “No way…” stutters Neil, pushing up his glasses.
“Yeah, no way,” Agrees Victor with a firm nod, obviously lying. “We’re definitely here for condoms.”
McKinley tilts his head. “Is everyone at this camp gay?” He wonders aloud.
“No!” cries Victor awkwardly. “We need them for chicks.”
Neil nods, crossing his arms in front of him, echoing the taller, stockier boy. “For chicks.”
McKinley shakes his head, allowing the two boys to foolishly fumble around the cabinets until they find a dusty basket of contraceptives. They both pocket a ridiculous amount, then Victor looks over tentitively. “You sure about the Gatorade?”
Instead of responding, McKinley just shows off his best high kick, which was admittedly easy when wearing shorts of his chosen length. Both Victor and Neil instantly get the message, then hurry to leave.
Hours pass, and the day creeps into evening. Still, there was no sign of Ben, so all McKinley could do is keep reading his book until he heard the trusty swish of the sliding door. Close to dinner, McKinley hears footsteps on the stairs. Knowing it’s his boyfriend through romantic intuition, he sets aside his book, folding his hands in front of him.
Ben enters, holding yet another plate of food. It’s barbecue, and McKinley is almost as excited to eat than to see his boyfriend, considering he had missed lunch.
“Hey, ‘Kinley,” says Ben softly as he sits next to him. McKinley can’t help but smile at the nickname. “Sorry I couldn’t come earlier… I just got so wrapped up with rehearsals. I think the kids are pretty good this summer, but Susie keeps pushing them, so we just had to keep practicing over and over again.”
Ben would probably continue on fretting if McKinley hadn’t shushed up with a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I had a good time today.” He motions towards the battered copy of Pride and Prejudice lying on the bed next to them. “I was reading.”
A soft look washes across Ben’s face. “I love this book,” Ben says dreamily, picking it up, turning it over in his hands. “Hey, is this mine?”
McKinley kisses him again. “Don’t worry about it…” He says through hooded, romantic eyes. They lean in for another kiss, grateful to be reunited after an impossibly long day, only to be disrupted by the heavy, slow footsteps of someone outside. The couple exchanges a confused look, then positioning their gaze back on the door, curious to see who the person would be.
Surprisingly, it’s Andy, limping through the doorway like an injured dog. “Look, Mr. Patrol of Nurse Nancy’s Gatorade,” says Andy, holding up his foot. “Fucked up my foot pretty bad.”
“Did you do that on purpose?” Ben says with wide eyes, exchanging a look of concern with his boyfriend. Ben looks more concerned, parallel to McKinley’s utter confusion.
Andy sits next to the couple, crossing his legs so he could have a better view of his ankle. Admittedly, it did look worse than McKinley’s initial injury, flushed in a dark purple, bent gracelessly at the joint. Shit, it was probably broken for all he knew.
“Lemme wrap this for you, Andy, it looks pretty gnarly,” says McKinley, already collecting the supplies that Nancy had used a few hours before. Wrapping ankles wasn’t something foreign to him, having run track since junior high. Warily, McKinley begins to tend to Andy’s injury, only for the self-proclaimed bad boy to shoo him off. “I want my Gatorade first, dude,” Andy says.
McKinley can’t help that Andy has a few screws loose. A mangled ankle and all the guy could care about was a sports drink. Ben nods, though, being the more level-headed out of the couple, ushering a cup into Andy’s hand. He grunts, which could only be interpreted as a thank you. “Your manners are awful,” Mutters Ben in response.
It only takes a few moments to wrap up Andy’s ankle, and luckily, Nurse Nancy returns not long after. As soon as she eyes the injury, she groans as if having to tend to two ankles in a day was far too daunting, although this was her chosen occupation.
Both McKinley and Ben take this as their time to peel out. They tell a quick thank you to Nancy, then Ben steadies McKinley as out of the infirmary. After a few seconds of awkward stepping as if they were in a three-legged race, Ben shakes his head. “Lemme just carry you instead.” He says, then lifting McKinley up with one swift and steady motion.
In all honesty, McKinley could most definitely walk, but there was something special about having your boyfriend hold you like some sort of ragdoll. “Thanks, Ben.” He says, not even attempting to hide the bright and dreamy tone from his voice. “How could I ever repay you?”
Ben smiles, tilting his head in thought. “You could give me some of your Gatorade.”
McKinley can’t help but smile back. “I’d be honored.” He leans in and kisses Ben, and of course, it tastes exactly how you’d expect.