Chapter Text
Neil ran a hand threw his damp hair—wet from showering his morning run’s sweat and odor from his skin. He’d been mid-bite when his mother interrupted the calming silence that surrounded the dining table that morning.
“Are you sure about this?” Mary questioned for the fourth time that week.
Neil sighed and pushed his cereal away from him, instead favoring looking Mary in the eyes. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Her face was as calm as it always was but her eyes held this anxious feel within them that Neil couldn’t ignore. “I don't feel comfortable with you leaving.” He had expected this, she had been like this ever since he took going away for summer camp into consideration.
“Mom, everything will be fine. You were the one that suggested it in the first place.” Neil reasoned.
Mary’s eyes shifted to her hands and the corners of her straight lips curled downwards a bit. The obvious crease between her brows deepened as she thought the whole ordeal over for the millionth time.
She wanted him to be safe, and for his whole life safety was being by her side. So, three months away to a place neither of them had ever been before sounded like a death trap.
Neil understood why she was so skeptical. Neil had felt the same way towards the idea of being sent off to an unfamiliar place by himself, but the both of them had to develop their long deceased social skills. They weren’t in danger anymore and deserved to live as normal people now. They both were aware of this fact but more often than not did Neil have to convince Mary that they had the right to be happy.
“I’m going to camp,” Neil stated and Mary's frown grew. “And you are going to that book club you signed up for.” She glared at him.
Neil’s words hung in the air. Mary wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
“I’m the parent here, Neil,” she voiced, her tone firm but tinged with concern. “I know what's best for you.”
Neil raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mom.”
Her lips tightened into a thin line. “You are still a kid. I know you were forced to grow up faster than anyone should have to but remember that.”
Neil’s jaw clenched at the words, her words stung in truth. He didn't like how much her words came out sounding like pity—though he knew she didn't think that way of him. She would never pity him.
She had been forced into a role she never wanted, and so had he. They both had grown up too quickly, too soon, because of his father. But that didn’t mean they weren't allowed to live, to find some sort of normalcy—whatever that even was—away from the prison they had lived in for years.
“I get it,” Neil said softly, leaning back in his chair, his voice quiet but firm. “But I can’t keep staying here, Mom. I can’t stay locked in this house, with him still hanging over us. We both need to start doing things for ourselves.”
Mary’s eyes were soft now, but they were full of that same straight-edged fear, that same protectiveness she’d had ever since they left his father. “I’m not ready, Neil.”
Neil chewed on his cheek at that. He wasn’t sure Mary would ever be ready to live a life that doesn’t constantly have the feeling of overwhelming alarm enveloping it, but he had to push her enough to get her out of her steel reinforced walls. If not for her then both of them.
“Mom,” he said, his voice steady, “I’m not going away forever. I’ll be back. But this... this is something we both need. You were stuck in that place for so long, in fear, just like I had. I need to do this, and so do you. We need to live, not just survive.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands again, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin. It was the same gesture she had when she was nervous or trying to make sense of something.
Mary spoke finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so many years making sure you were safe. You’re all I have left, Neil.”
“I can't be your whole life.” Neil dropped suddenly, startling his mom into lifting her gaze back on him. “You have you. You have to realize that that is enough sometimes. You have nothing to protect me from anymore. He is gone.”
Mary was quiet for a long time, her eyes distant, as though she were looking at something far beyond the kitchen walls. Neil waited, knowing the conversation wasn’t over. There was a quiet battle going on inside her—between the mother who had kept him safe for years and the woman who was terrified of letting go of the only person who had ever really understood her.
Then, when he assumed she’d gone into another long silence, acceptance washed over her expression. “Okay.” Was all she said before standing and exiting the dining area.
—
The rest of the morning passed quickly. Neil packed his duffel bag—everything from clothes to toiletries to a few things that reminded him of home, like the photo of him and his mom from a happier time, before everything had changed. He had tried to keep his mind focused, but it wasn’t easy. His mother’s anxiety was already loud, he didn't need his own creeping up on him.
When it was time to leave, Mary drove him to the camp bus meeting spot. The ride was quiet. She kept her hands firmly on the steering wheel, her gaze focused on the road, but Neil could feel the weight of her worry in the air between them. It was a familiar feeling—like the days when his father would take his anger out on both of them. The sense of quiet tension.
When they reached the place, Neil’s stomach twisted. The buses were already lined up, kids talking excitedly as their parents gave them last-minute instructions. The air was thick with the anticipation of the unknown. But Neil wasn’t afraid—not anymore. This was the chance to break free from the fear that had held both of them hostage for so long.
Mary pulled into the parking lot, stopping in front of the line of buses. She turned off the engine and sat still for a moment, her hands gripping the wheel. Neil could feel her hesitating, the words she wanted to say hovering on the edge of her lips.
Finally, she turned to him. “Text me when you get there. And every day after. No excuses.”
Neil nodded. “I will.”
He reached for the door, but before he stepped out, he turned to her. “I want daily updates on how you're doing. Especially about the club meetings.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “You act like your my mom, but it's the other way around. Fine, will do.”
Neil stepped out of the car, grabbed his bag, and gave her one last wave before walking toward the bus. The knot in his stomach tightened as he looked forward.
“It’s going to be a long summer…” He muttered to himself as he walked towards the many loud teens.
“What cabin are you in?” A young woman asked him when he got near the buses.
“Pardon?” Neil questioned.
“What animal were you assigned when you signed up?” She rolled her eyes as if she hadn't wanted to be there just as much as Neil—if not more.
“Oh,” Neil readjusted the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. “Fox.”
He caught the way she grimaced before filtering through the papers on her clipboard. “Name?”
“Neil Josten.”
“Perfect,” She scribbled on a form. “That bus right there is yours.” She pointed down the line of buses.
“Thank you.” Neil said as he passed her.
“Don't mention it.” She called.
Neil stepped onto the bus, the stale smell of vinyl seats and years of teenage sweat hitting him immediately. It was half-full already, some kids laughing with their friends, others sitting alone with headphones on or nose-deep in books. A few heads turned to glance at him, but none lingered.
He made his way toward the middle—The front and back being foreseeably full— and chose an empty row by the window. Tossing his duffel bag onto the seat beside him, he sat down and rested his forehead against the cool glass, watching Mary’s car shrink in the distance.
He thought she might wave—considering she waited to see him get on the bus before leaving—but she didn’t. She just sat there, unmoving. Watching. Still gripping the steering wheel.
The bus shuddered to life.
Neil let out a long breath as it pulled away from the curb, leaving the lot—and Mary—behind.
—
The camp wasn’t what he expected.
Nobody bothered to converse with Neil on the way there, but the expectation to be ignored all summer was shattered the moment he stepped off the bus.
The sun hung low and warm over a dense sprawl of cabins and trees. A lake glittered in the distance. Kids spilled out of buses, some yelling with excitement, others dragging their feet like they’d just been sentenced.
A tall man in a worn baseball cap barked orders, his whistle shrill and unrelenting. Staffers moved like they were on autopilot, waving campers toward different animal-themed signs.
Neil followed the fox-shaped marker, clutching the strap of his bag like it might keep him anchored. Around him, boys and girls were already sizing each other up, cracking jokes, throwing punches that were just soft enough to be called friendly. He tried to hide his wince at the potential behavior he will have to endure for 3 months.
“Palmetto cabin is over there!” another counselor called out. She was the same girl that told him what bus to ride. She looked barely older than him, with wavy hair tucked beneath a visor and a clipboard that looked like her lifeline.
Neil approached, nodding when she checked off his name.
“Cabin’s that way,” she said, jerking her thumb toward a trail winding into the trees. “Watch your step. Path’s a bit rocky.”
The hike wasn’t long, but Neil felt every step in his legs. Maybe it was the weight of the bag, or maybe it was the pressure sitting behind his ribs.
When he reached a cabin with the title ‘Foxes’ carved into the wood above the door, he paused.
It was small, wooden, and somehow already buzzing with life. Laughter spilled from the open windows, and someone inside yelled something about bunk beds. He stepped through the doorway and into chaos.
Two boys were already there.
The one closest to the door had a shaved head and was lounging on the bottom bunk like he owned it. The other kid was in the middle of unpacking. They all looked up when he entered.
“Newbie,” The one once unpacking stepped towards him welcomingly. “You a Fox too?”
“Yeah,” Neil replied, dropping his bag by an empty bunk.
Shaved Head stood up, squinting. “Name?”
“Neil.”
“Cool. I’m Seth. That’s Matt,” he pointed at the giant of a man.
“Hey there.” Matt greeted with a grin. “I've never seen you at camp before, you like it so far.”
“There's nothing worth liking about it yet.” Neil shrugged.
Matt chuckled at his words. “Can't argue with that.”
“Welcome to hell, man,” Seth said, flopping back on his bed. “Palmetto Foxes is the forgotten cabin. All the weirdos and screw-ups get dumped here.”
“Sounds like home.” Was all Neil offered before he started unpacking.
Matt laughed and Seth glanced at him with a flicker of approval.
At that moment a loudspeaker crackled to life across the campgrounds, screeching with feedback before a voice blared out: “All campers report to the amphitheater for orientation. I repeat: all campers to the amphitheater. Now means now, people.”
Groans echoed from every direction.
Neil followed the flow of bodies toward a semi-circle of wooden benches tucked into a slope near the forest. The amphitheater was framed by rough-cut logs and shaded by tall pines. Campers filed in lazily, fanning themselves in the heat and bickering over seats.
The Fox cabin sat toward the back. Neil observed others that were not Matt nor Seth plop onto the Foxes bench. His confusion seemed to be obvious because Matt stepped in and explained.
“Those are the others, there are two Fox cabins.”
Neil nodded. He just hoped none of them weren’t too friendly so that they'd strike up a conversation with him.
Onstage stood three people.
One was a woman with a whistle around her neck and arms like she could bench press a tree. Another was a guy with a clipboard and the dead-eyed patience of someone who worked with teenagers year-round. And in the center stood a man in cargo shorts, bright sunglasses, and a grin far too wide to be trusted.
“Hey hey hey, campers!” the man said, lifting a mic that didn’t need lifting. “Welcome to Camp Wymack’s Annual Summer Showdown! I’m Jeremy, the Trojan's camp counselor for the summer, and this year, we’re turning up the heat!”
A cheer went up from a few cabins. Most just looked tired.
“Now, I know some of you are here because you begged your parents to sign you up. Some of you are here because a guidance counselor thought a change of pace would do you good.” His smile sharpened a little. “And some of you are here because this camp is your last stop before things get real messy. Isn’t that right, Foxes?”
Matt let out a low whistle. Neil didn’t react, but he could feel eyes on their cabin.
Jeremy went on. “But no matter how you got here, for the next eight weeks, you’re all part of the same camp family. And that means fun. Teamwork. And most importantly—competition.”
The clipboard guy stepped up. “This summer, you’ll compete in challenges across four categories: Mind, Muscle, Mischief, and Mystery.”
Jeremy took over again. “At the end of the summer, the team with the most points gets the grand prize: an off-site trip, real food, and camp legend status. Losers?” He grinned. “You get the privilege of cleaning out the latrines.”
Scattered laughter. A few exaggerated groans.
Seth muttered, “This is gonna suck.”
Matt elbowed him. “Dude. Off-site trip? I haven’t had fries that weren’t frozen since June.”
“Dude, you're literally the wealthiest guy I know. If you're eating frozen fries then it has something to do with you.” Seth snickered while slapping Matt on the back.
Neil didn’t say anything. But something about the setup caught his attention. Structure. Challenges. Stakes. He didn’t like being watched, but this was different. This was…measurable. He could survive this.
Jeremy raised a hand. “First challenge starts tomorrow morning. Bring your A-game, campers. Summer doesn’t wait.”
As they were dismissed, the chatter started up immediately. Campers ranked which category they thought they’d win, trying to remember who was good at what.
Neil just hoped that they wouldn't come in last. Sure he disliked attention but his hatred for losing was greater.