Work Text:
June 11th, 1990
Dear P.J,
Hiya Peej. I'm sure that by the time you're getting this, you've probably noticed I haven't been around. Like, at all. I'm sorry about that, I know you were really looking forward to hanging out once you got back from your family camping trip. But it's not my fault, I swear! Remember that summer camp ad we found in the news a few weeks ago? Well....guess where I am?
As soon as you told me that your dad wouldn't let you go, I told mine that I didn't wanna go to the camp anymore, but he had already sent the money to the camp, so I HAD to go. And it was too late to tell you because you had already left and by the time you got back camp would have already started so...yeah. Here we are.
I hope you're not mad at me. I know we really wanted to go together. It'll only be a few weeks, and then I'll be back home. I know the other kids in the neighborhood are still in elementary school, but I'm sure it won't be too bad playing with them. And of course you know you can go to my house if your dad gets too bad. My dad doesn't mind and you know I don't care if you stay in my room.
Anyway, I gotta go now, we're going to dinner. I'll give you more details as time goes on.
Your friend,
Max
P.S: I miss you already buddy :)
June 16th, 1990
Dear P.J,
I'm so glad you're not here. Wait, that sounds bad. Let me explain. This place isn't at ALL what we saw in the advertisement in the paper. The clip said "Adventure camp". ADVENTURE. CAMP. There is no adventure here! The thing that excited us the most about this camp was that they prided themselves in being the only summer camp in the state with skating activities. And you'd think since they advertised that so much there'd be tons of skating, but NO! Technically, we *do* skate here, but it is NOT a skate camp. All of the activities are scheduled by the camp counselors. The only time we get to choose what we wanna do is during the hour before dinner.
But COME ON, that's only an hour! Why is my summer being dictated by some loser teenager who's just trying to make some chump change?
If anything, this "Adventure" camp is just like any other normal, boring, painfully average summer camp. The food is trash, we all sleep in cabins, we're in the middle of nowhere, and all of the activities are basic. I did see a half pipe and a few quarter ramps when I first got here, but honestly you aren't missing out on anything. In fact, I'm sure you're having more fun skating at home than I am here. After all, you get the chance to skate everyday, where as I only get to skate every Saturday, thanks to the stupid counselors.
Speaking of skating, today's the first day we actually get to try out the ramps and stuff. Maybe this'll change my mind about this place, but I doubt it. Either way, I'll make sure to write to you about it.
Your friend,
Max
June 25th, 1990
Dear P.J,
Camp is getting better. Sure, it sucks that we don't get to make our own choices and the coolest activities are the ones we do the least often, but honestly it's not that bad.
We go nature trails on bikes and throw the football and Frisbee around. When it's really hot out, the counselors pull out slip n slides and water balloons, but they won't let us into the lake. They say it's too deep for us, but it still sucks.
I mean, there's a perfectly good lake right in front of our cabins and we can't get in it.
At night, we play card games and some nights we make a huge bonfire and make s'mores. The other kids are pretty cool. Despite the fact that they're not from our town, they pretty much act like all the other kids at our school. Except for this one boy. And let me tell you Peej, this guy is a LOSER, and you know that's me saying something, since you and I aren't exactly middle school royalty! (though maybe that'll change. Watch out 7th grade! >:))
He's in my cabin and sleeps on my bottom bunk. He's tan with the world's ugliest bowl cut. He has thick black frame glasses and braces and unfortunate acne placement all over his face. He's one of the tallest boys at camp but his skinnyness diminishes his height.
The other kids make fun of him. Like, a lot. He's really shy and keeps to himself. No one sits with him during lunch and during free time he's always hiding away from everyone else, opting to sit under a tree than to play with everyone. He's trash at skating too. Absolutely no balance or talent whatsoever. If it weren't so pathetic, it would be funny...
Okay, now that I just wrote that down, that does seem really crappy. I'm not the one bullying him though, it's just the other kids at camp. They make fun of his name and the way he talks and I've seen them corner him a few times.
Crap. Am I a part of the problem?
Your friend,
Max
P.S to be fair, he does talk weirdly. He rarely talks and when he does, no one understands him.
July 1st, 1990,
Dear P.J,
You'll be glad to know I've taken it upon myself to look after the boy that sleeps on my bottom bunk. You'll be extra glad to know he actually isn't that bad. His name is Estêvão Maioral Tercero. He's not from here, he's from Brazil.
That's why he sounds so funny. It's why the other kids never call him by his name. It's why he never talks. Estêvão doesn't know a lot of English and his first language is Portuguese, the language they speak in Brazil. His thick accent plus the lisp from his braces makes it hard to understand what he's saying.
We're not exactly friends yet, but I've I'm trying to do what you said. I sit with him during lunch, I try to strike up conversations with him, protect him from the other kids. Maybe he'll open up eventually, but maybe not. I'll do my best, okay?
Your friend,
Max
July 22nd, 1990
Dear P.J,
By the time you get this letter, I'll probably be back home already, but I don't care. I need to tell you what happened right now. Everyone is asleep and I'm alone in at the nurses's. Yesterday (a few hours ago) was skate day. I've been helping Estêvão with his balance and endurance so he'll be better at skating. We were excited when Saturday finally rolled around; it was finally time to put all that hard work and training we've been doing to the test.
And it worked! After helping Estêvão with staying on the board for the first few moments, we actually got to skate around and it was awesome! We were both soaring side by side. He fell behind me at some point, so I looked back to make sure he was okay. The look on his face was awesome, it was like he was tasting freedom for the first time.
We were racing and when he got ahead of me (by luck), he turned back and gave me the world's biggest smile. I got distracted and didn't see the massive tree branch that was a few feet ahead of me.
I'm sure you can put two and two together and figure out what happened. I ran over the branch, crashed, and now I've got a cast.
You should have seen the look on his face. He was so worried and he kept apologizing over and over again, even though it wasn't his fault. I tried to tell the counselors that I was okay, that it didn't really hurt, but they refused to listen. They called my dad and told him what happened and I'm sure he's racing over here in his car right now, worried sick.
Alright, I think that's all the time I have. I better start walking over to the mailbox if I want this sent out before my dad comes in the morning.
See ya real soon,
Max
July 10th, 1990
Dear P.J,
Bon gia PJ! Tudo Bem? That means, Hello, how are you in Portuguese! At least, that's what I think it means. Estêvão has been teaching me some Portuguese words and I've been teaching him so English. He's pretty awesome once you get to know him. I don't sit with the other guys at lunch anymore. Instead, sit under the tree with Estêvão. He tells me all about Brazil and I tell him about home. Did you know in Brazil, the roofs on their house are made out of metal? I couldn't believe it when he told me about the mountains and the jungle and all the houses stacked on top of each other.
Estêvão copies me all the time now, he tells me he wants to be more American. I don't really understand why, it sounds like being from Brazil sounds amazing. They have this thing called Pao de quesjo, Estêvão says it was his favorite thing his mother made for him.
So far, it's only him and his dad that's in the states. His mom is still back in Brazil. He misses her a lot. And his dad...I don't really say anything when he talks about his dad, because I don't know what to say. I feel bad for him.
Anyway, the copying thing is so bad he even copies my laugh! I'll say something funny, and then he'll start ha-yucking, and it just makes me laugh even harder! I don't have the heart to tell him that's not an american thing, just a Goof thing. At the rate he's going, by the time camp is over, he'll be ha-yucking better than my dad!
I wonder what Estêvão would think if he met my dad.
So yeah, we've been hanging out loads now. Everywhere I go, he follows and vice versa. He's really improving with the skating. I help him by holding his hands and adjusting his posture with my hands. Underneath the unappealingness, he's actually really smart and nice and sweet. Some nights, after everyone's already fallen asleep, I can hear him breathing underneath me. I know he's awake, and I wonder if he knows I'm awake and listening to him.
Last night, I called out to him in the dark. He was awake, and we spent the whole night talking, more like whispering actually. At one point, one of the others kids moved, and we went silent. I was scared, but I was also laughing so hard and trying to be quiet. We waited a few minutes after the kid stopped moving to finally laugh and breathe again. It really wasn't even that funny, but when you're trying to be quiet everything becomes funnier somehow.
When we finally got over ourselves, he asked me to come down to his bunk. I went down the ladder as quietly as I could, only to find him squeezed up against the wall, holding his blanket. I got on the edge of the bed, the space he left for me, and it was still warm from the hours he spent laying there. He threw the blanket over us and it was so warm. He was so warm. And close. His face was right next to mine and we were so close to each other and then
What am I doing? This is wrong, I can't send this to PJ. No one can find out I wrote this.
When Estêvão wakes up the next morning, the first thing he does is race to the nurses office. Still in pajamas with no breakfast and rubber bands still in, he finds Max's bed cold and empty. A few weeks later, camp ends and school starts again. Max meets this girl, Roxanne, and she's all he can think about. She's all he wants to think about. He forgets all about camp by the time he's three weeks into school. Good. He doesn't want to remember.
Estêvão Maioral Segundo takes notice to his son's change in behavior. For the first time since they got here, his son is mostly happy all the time, and has ceased asking for his mother (spare the occasional curiosity). He keeps talking about how much he loves the camp Estêvão dumped him at and how he had such a great time and made a new friend. His son talks about this other boy, this "friend" practically all the time. It's... concerning. When Estêvão asks his father to return there next summer, his father says no. He's heartbroken; and he'll never know that truly, even though it wasn't his intention, his father is sparing him.
Ten years later, Estêvão is a man and in college. The glasses have been traded for contact lenses, the braces have transformed his teeth into beautiful rows of pearly whites, his Brazilian accent is gone (it has been for years now), and he is perfect. He is perfect. He is Bradley Uppercrust III, he runs a fraternity, he is well liked, he is talented and respected and everything he's always thought the perfect American is.
Portuguese is a foreign language on his tongue; years of his father banning the language have made the shapes and curves of the speech of his homeland alien. He hasn't heard the name Estêvão in years, he is ignorant to the fact that that's the name printed on his birth certificate, not Bradley.
His mother never did make it to the U.S.
For the most part, college is everything as expected, if not slightly disappointing. The highlight of his higher education has definitely been the multiple skating tournaments his frat attends. Skating is not the only thing he kept from that summer camp.
But one day, someone passes him by. Someone who Bradley recognizes, but can't place. Oh, how it pains him. His face is so familiar, his movements, his style, even the way he skates, but who he is? Not someone he went to school with, no, he would never forget a bully and he never had a friend, besides Tank, that is. It frustrates him even more when the kid is such an ass and so much better at skating than Bradley is.
Bradley doesn't realize who this stranger is, this enemy, until he loses The X Games. Until he stands on that stage next to Max Goof and hears that laugh.