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“Mr. Campbell, I can’t keep this,” he gestures around to the burning camp, “a secret. One of the campers could have been seriously hurt.” And over what? Some insurance money? He was going to risk their lives over that? David’s image of the camp founder is crumbling before his eyes, but rather than what he hopes he’ll do, which is to pull him into a hug and apologize and help them put out the fire and tell him that he was right the whole time and never meant to hurt anyone and of course he’ll turn himself in because he went too far this time, Campbell glares.
“Is that any way to treat the man who practically raised you?” he taunts. David stiffens. He wants to tell Max to go, but he finds himself unable to utter a word. “Davey, I’ve always been so kind to you. So generous. I never once beat you like they did, not even when you deserved it. I fed you, even when you hadn’t earned it. And you’d send me to jail? The person who cared about you more than your own parents?”
David clenches his fist, angry tears springing to his eyes. His heart begins to race. Memories come flooding back, ones that he has to work every single day to keep from resurfacing. And now someone is throwing them back in his face, someone he cares about very deeply. Whom he’s protected over and over, even at great personal cost. Using the experience to try to get something out of it, yet again. That’s all he’s ever cared about.
“Don’t forget what I protected you from.”
“By what? Throwing me into the foster system? You didn’t do anything. Social services stepped in. You didn’t raise me. Mrs. and Mrs. Washington did.”
“This camp saved you—”
“You ran this camp for money.” Campbell rolls his eyes.
“Don’t act like you don’t get a paycheck.”
“It’s not the fucking same,” Max chimes in. David pauses and uses the distraction to wipe the tears from his face before Campbell can see them, if he hasn’t already. “David does all this shit from the bottom of his stupid heart. You probably make more in a day than David does all summer.”
“Seems as though you’ve fooled even your favorite camper, Davey. But I know better. I’m the only person who’s ever given you the love you need, and if I’m gone, then that’s gone, too. So think carefully about your next move.”
“He doesn’t need you.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong.”
“No, he’s not,” David manages in a shaking, small voice. “Cameron, I think you should go if you want a head start. Because when the feds break through those doors, I’m telling them everything.” The rarity of his first name surprises him, but he simply scoffs.
“Hm. I knew I’d wasted my time on you.”
Campbell turns and slams the door behind him so loudly David recoils hard, leaving him alone in the room with a very frightened Max. He turns and curses, stomping one foot. He knows he shouldn’t in front of a camper, but it just jumps out.
“David?”
“Hey, kiddo,” he starts, wanting so badly to comfort him but feeling his own walls closing in, “you should go find Gwen. I’ll be there in a minute.” He takes in a shuddering breath, puts one hand to his chest. Trying to control his breathing long enough to allow Max to leave is already making him lightheaded. Another breath comes quicker than he’d like it to. He’s going to start hyperventilating in the same way he does every time he thinks about his parents. Max can’t be witness to that. Can’t watch him have a breakdown.
Max doesn’t move.
“Really, just give me two seconds and I’ll be out there with you—”
He feels a sudden pressure on his knees. When he glances down, two tears fall from his eyes and onto the head of Max, who is, for some reason, hugging him. And not letting go. He pats his hair.
“You shouldn’t have—” he has to pull in a hitching breath, “have had to listen to that. Sorry.”
“Shut up.” He breathes out as slowly as he can, but the tears are coming; the panic is coming, and he can do nothing to stop it. He presses his hands over his face and inhales two shaky breaths. And another two. Breathes out, then in again far too soon. Out and in, now rapidly. His heart is going to stop. He’s dying. He’s going to pass out. Or throw up. Or—
“Hey. Breathe slow.”
“I’m trying,” he complains between breaths. “You don’t—don’t have to—shouldn’t be—go catch up with—” he’s unable to finish any of his thoughts because they’re coming in and out of his mind like boats at sea.
“Sit down.” Max leads him by the elbow to the armchair in the counselor’s cabin. “Come on. Deep breaths. Don’t let that asshole do this to you.”
It’s not like it’s a choice. His breath is coming even faster now and he doubles over, bringing his head to his knees. He’s trying to cover his face so that Max can’t see the tears, but he knows he’s taking in all of it. There’s no way the kid is ever going to respect him after this. Now that he knows everything. That he’s damaged. His optimism is a coping mechanism for how fucked up he is inside. For the rest of his life, he’s going to see him as a broken piece of shit who got knocked around as a kid and became a weak little pushover because of it.
“It’s just a panic attack. It’s gonna be over in a few minutes.”
“You don’t need to—see this.”
“Tough. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Stop talking. And thinking about me. Focus on breathing.”
David takes his advice reluctantly because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might faint. He takes a deep if stuttering breath through his nose, releases it through his mouth, and repeats.
“Just keep doing that.” Max pats him on the back awkwardly. “Good job, camp man.”
“How do you know how to do this?”
“Neil,” he says simply. He doesn’t elaborate about which one of them panics. David can’t guess. It could be either. He should talk to both of them about it, let them know he’s always here to talk, mention that he’s got feelings puppets that can make it easier to express—
Breathe.
He sits there for a minute until his jagged breathing evens out for the most part and the tears stop, which is much harder to force but Max is right there , so he can’t keep crying like this. He sits up dry-eyed. Max’s eyebrows are furrowed and his face is full of concern rather than the contempt he expects. Deserves.
“Okay now?”
“Okay now. Thanks. I’m sorry about that.” There’s an awkward silence in which David has to brace himself for whatever Max might say next.
“Why did you never say anything about all that shit?”
“You saw what happens when I think about it. I try not to.” He smiles. “This won’t happen to you just because you’re in the same boat. After camp, I’m going to talk to your school counselor to organize—”
“Stop.” He pats David on the knee. “Yeah, I know you’ll take care of us. Just focus on your fucking self for a second.” He gives him a moment to process that. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.”
“Wrong answer.” David takes another slightly shuddering breath.
“A little shaky. It’s time to get back with Gwen. We can still help put out some of the fires.”
“I think you should take another minute. You still don’t seem very… David.” Tears build up in his eyes again and he wipes them away roughly with the palm of his hand. “Does Gwen know?”
“No. Not a thing. Please, don’t tell her. I’d like you to forget all about it, but I know you can’t. I would really prefer if you kept this between us.”
“Jesus. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Has anyone ever been, like, nice to you?” He hesitates, doesn’t say anything because he can’t think of a time. “Cameron is shitty. Gwen’s shitty. I’m shitty.”
“You’re absolutely not. You’re creative and expressive.”
“I torture you.”
“Creatively!” He sighs. “My foster parents were nice. I was only there for about eight months. But it helped.” Eight months. Eight months of kindness and support in his entire fucking life. That’s all he’s ever had, all he’s ever earned. “And Gwen is nice in her own way. Campbell is just complicated.”
“Don’t make excuses for people who treat you like shit.” David smiles.
“You’re so strong, Max. I really admire that about you. You know your worth.” Max rolls his eyes, but the compliment does sink in, he can tell. If it just beaded up on the surface and slid off, he’d see it. He’s great at seeing through the kids. That’s one benefit of his own trauma. “He really did help me. He reported to CPS. It got me out of there.”
“And then he ditched you.”
“I guess.” He places a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Listen, I know about your situation at home. I want you to know that if you want to… if we have to… do the same for you, some day, that I will never, ever abandon you. You wouldn’t be alone for a second. You just have to say the word.”
“Don’t think that far ahead. Just chill.”
“And—and you can talk to me about it. I know I freaked out a little just now, but please don’t let that keep you from talking to me. I want you to.”
“You asshole, you were just triggered into a panic attack by some manipulative bastard that used your fucking abusive childhood to get you to do whatever he wants. It would be disturbing if you didn’t freak out.” He twists the strings of his hoodie. “I never knew it was like that for you.”
“You’re just a kid. I shouldn’t have relied on you to do this just now. And I feel awful that I did.”
“I… wanted to stay? I wasn’t gonna just leave you. Though I guess that’s kinda what you’re used to.” David chuckles, but it’s not a joke. Max glares. He drops the smile.
“What do you need to do to get over… this? Write in a diary? Play with your stupid puppets?”
“I’m already over it, kiddo. Don’t worry.”
“Huh. Sounds like you just kinda repressed it.”
“Maybe.” He stands despite still feeling a little dizzy. Just around the edges. Not enough to have him stumbling. “Let’s get back to the group. It’ll help to get my mind off it.”
“Yeah. Okay. Whatever you want.” David pats his head again, this time met by Max swatting his hands away.
“You’re a good kid, Max. A really good one.”
“Your favorite camper?”
“Of course I don’t have a favorite.” He tugs at his hand to urge him forward toward the door. “But if I did, it’s you.”
Together, they walk back toward the rest of the camp. The fires are slowly being put out. Everyone cares enough to not want the camp to burn. That’s something. Something he’s doing right. Max wrenches his hand away from David’s far before they approach anyone who might see. But not a moment before. And when the feds do come, David holds strong and points in the direction in which Cameron had taken off. Then serves dinner with Gwen in the charred mess hall like nothing ever happened.