Chapter Text
As he drove past the camp sign and the trees grew dense, rising up on either side of the narrow road, Reki tried to contain his excitement. He kept his foot on the brake, rolling along slowly, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He couldn’t help but grin, because he was here, he was really here, and it felt like coming home.
All his memories of summer camp rushed back at once. The long, lazy days spent at the lake, perfecting his swimming and diving, paddling canoes with oars that were too big for his young, clumsy arms. The nights around campfires, roasting (in Reki’s case, burning) marshmallows and singing songs, some silly, some reverent. The cabins with their musty, damp smell and rickety bunks with slats just wide enough for a small hand to reach through and pass a note to the camper in the bunk beside them.
Reki shook his head to clear the memories, sweet as they were. He reminded himself, not for the first time, that things would be different now. He was too old to be a camper, he was a counselor now, and he would have to be a good role model. Right. He could do that. He could be…
Oh, god, what if he couldn’t?
He drove through the campground even slower then, all his joy suddenly replaced with worry. He’d been shocked when he actually got the job. His memories were warm around the edges, but another, darker story lurked in the shadows. As a camper, he hadn’t exactly been anyone’s favorite, always getting into some kind of trouble. Cannonballs into the lake, splashing everyone nearby. Tipping the canoes with those same clumsy hands, only sometimes by accident. Changing the words to the campfire songs to make them funnier. Talking too much during quiet time or passing too many notes. Getting too creative with his art projects. Pulling pranks, like moving the counselor’s bed into the woods.
Sometimes Reki wasn’t sure why he loved camp so much, when he’d gotten scolded so much here. Maybe it was because he got scolded everywhere, but at least at camp, he felt like himself.
Anyway, it had been five years. The person who interviewed him was fairly new, and probably none of the staff was the same, and even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t recognize Reki’s name now. He touched the window and took a deep breath. Clean slate. New reputation. If he could keep himself from doing something stupid, he’d be fine.
Right? Right.
The trees thinned as the road opened to a gravel parking lot. Reki checked the clock on his car. He was off to a good start, anyway—the training schedule said to arrive at three and he was a few minutes early. He eased the car into an open space next to a silver car that looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line. No scrapes, scratches, bumps, not even a sticker or magnet. Nothing like his car, with all its dents and rusty bumper and stickers from every cause his family had ever supported, plus every interest Reki could find represented in sticker form. He loved his car.
Reki jumped out, did a few stretches, and heaved his bags from the trunk. He gave the car a final fond pat, not sure when he would get to drive it again, and frowned at his bags. He had a habit of packing too much, but who wanted to find out after it was too late that they didn’t have the right kind of pants or enough hoodies? Not him. He didn’t want to end up wandering around camp in a borrowed outfit because he fell in the lake and didn’t have anything to change into.
Definitely not something he’d experienced as a camper. Nope. Not at all.
He paused by a sign, trying to remember which way the boys’ camp was, when he heard someone calling his name. “Reki! There you are. We were getting worried.”
Reki turned to see the guy who had interviewed him quickly walking towards him. He wore a polo shirt with an official looking nametag and Reki tried to remember his name. He glanced at his nametag. Shokichi Oka. Got it. “Oh, hi, good, I wasn’t sure where I was going.”
Oka pressed his lips together and said, “Have you been wandering around this whole time? There’s plenty of time for that later.”
“Huh? No, I just got here. I know I’m a little early, but—”
Oka stared at him in blank confusion. “Early? Reki, you’re two hours late.” He shook his head and set off walking again, and Reki understood he was supposed to follow.
“Two hours…late? But how?” he asked, already a little out of breath trying to follow Oka with two heavy bags in tow. “Training starts at three.”
Oka paused and took one of Reki’s bags, settling it on his shoulder before starting up his brisk pace again. Reki felt a little less weighed down, but unbalanced. The path started to incline. “We started at one.”
Well, this was off to a terrible start. So much for recovering his reputation. Reki bit his tongue and said, “I swear the schedule thingy said three. Am I the only one who’s late?” If he’d had a free hand, he would have crossed his fingers.
Oka pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”
No luck for Reki. “I really thought it said three,” he said apologetically.
“We use a twenty-four-hour clock. It probably said thirteen.”
“Oh,” Reki said, working out the calculation in his head. He shouldn’t have messed that up. “Thirteen. One. Not three. Okay. Sorry. Uh, have I missed a lot?”
They reached the top of the hill and Oka said, with a somewhat rueful smile, “Wish I could say no, but yeah, you have. All the introductions and get-to-know-you games. Tour, too. I gave out cabin assignments before I went looking for you.”
“Oh,” Reki said, again, trying not to sound disappointed, because this was entirely his fault. He loved get-to-know-you games. They had always been one of his favorite parts of camp. He knew most people hated them, but he loved how silly they were, and he loved fun facts. Reki liked to think that he was at least 60% fun fact. Well, at least he’d still get to play them with campers. But he had missed out on a crucial bonding moment with his fellow counselors and…it was fine. It had to be fine. Classic Reki Kyan, wrecking things before they even got started.
“So, what’s my cabin assignment?” he asked, deciding to plow ahead as if he wasn’t already a complete screwup. He hadn’t met anyone, hadn’t had a chance for first impressions—Reki’s first impressions were always spot on—so he couldn’t hope for anybody in particular, but he had an idea of the kind of cabin buddy he’d like. One of the older counselors, cool and well-liked, the kind of guy who would take Reki under his wing and make him cool by association. Or another newbie, someone else who had been a camper and was psyched to be here, ready to give it their all and have the best summer ever. Yeah. Someone like that.
Oka checked his clipboard. What was his job, anyway? “Cabin 3,” he said. “Last one in the row. Kaoru and I are in 1, Hiromi and Kojiro are in 2, then there’s you and Langa in 3.”
Reki didn’t know anyone, so the names meant nothing to him. “Wait, you’re a counselor? I thought you were like, the director or something.”
Oka laughed, but it was a hollow sort of laugh, one that suggested he didn’t actually think this was funny at all. “Lead counselor. Comes with some, er, extra responsibilities.”
“So there’s only…” Reki counted in his head. “Six of us? Is that enough?”
Oka’s mouth twitched, but all he said was, “Yep. All good if everybody has proper training. Get going so you don’t miss anything else. Here’s your bag. Just down the path, all right? Last cabin. Can’t miss it. Or, I guess you could, but try not to, all right?”
Embarrassed, Reki picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He watched Oka disappear into the closest cabin, and then he set off down the path. The cabins were spaced widely, and he whistled while he walked past the first cabin, which had a freshly made sign with ‘Cabin 1’ and the counselors’ names written in elegant script tacked to the door. Towels fluttered on a line attached to the porch beams of the second cabin. He considered stopping and introducing himself but decided against it. He was late enough. He didn’t want his co-counselor to think badly of him.
Cabin 3 was smaller than the first two, an older style, and the porch groaned when Reki stepped on it. The wood was weather-beaten and stained, but Reki kinda liked it. It was exactly how he remembered the cabins from when he was a kid, though he hadn’t been in this one before. He dropped his bags on the porch, figuring he’d come back for them, tugged on the cabin door, stepped inside, and immediately had the air knocked out of him by a swift jab to the gut.
Reki doubled over and looked up at his assailant, expecting to see some huge guy, a pro boxer or someone, but he met the terrified gaze of someone about his age, with pale blue eyes and hair so blond it was nearly translucent, holding a broom with the handle pointed menacingly towards Reki. Oh. So it had been a broom, not a fist. Reki wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. “What the hell, dude?” he gasped.
The other boy stammered, “I—sorry—thought you were—never mind.”
Reki groaned and held his stomach, still doubled over. “I’m Reki. Counselor. This is my cabin. So…I guess you’re Langa?”
“I—yes. I was starting to think they had made you up to mess with me. Because you’re—”
Reki sighed. He was never gonna live this down, was he? “Two hours late, yeah, I know.”
“And I heard a thump on the porch.” Langa shook his hair into his eyes.
“Just my bags. Which I should get.” Reki turned back to the door and pushed it open, kicking one of his bags against it to act as a doorstop. He dragged both inside and the door slammed shut behind him. Langa flinched. So he was jumpy. Great, just what Reki needed. Somebody who spooked at the slightest sound. “Which bunk is yours?” he asked.
“I took that one,” Langa said, pointing to a bunk in the far corner. A rolled up sleeping bag and small pillow sat on it.
“Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
“There.” Langa pointed again, and Reki saw a small bag perched on the top bunk.
“That’s all you brought?”
“I don’t need a lot,” Langa said, but he didn’t sound defensive, just quiet. Resigned. He turned away and sat down on his bunk, staring blankly ahead.
Reki nodded and surveyed the remaining bunks. “Do I wanna be near the door? In case kids try to sneak out?”
“Does that happen?”
Reki laughed and scaled one of the bunk ladders. Perched on the mattress, he swung his legs over the side and looked down at Langa. “’Course it does. I snuck out a couple times.”
“Why?”
“Well, some of the older kids would sneak out to go to the boys’ camp and kiss them. Not me. I just did it to see if I could. Went into the woods and just kinda. Stood there. Listened to the animals and bugs and stuff. Jumped the fence and stuck my feet in the pool. That sort of thing. No kissing.”
“Oh,” Langa said slowly. “What do you mean, they snuck out to the boys’ camp? Weren’t they already there?”
“Nah,” Reki said, and flopped onto his back. “I’m trans, so I was in the girls’ camp when I came here. Nicer over there, actually. Haven’t seen much of this side yet but everybody always said it was creepy. S’alright, though. Spiders probably won’t get you. Ghosts might, though.”
“You believe in ghosts?”
“That’s your follow-up question?”
“Yes?”
Reki sat up. “Okay. Huh. Yeah, I believe in ghosts. What, you don’t?”
“No,” Langa said, shaking his head.
“Guess we’ll find out who’s right, then.”
“Guess so,” Langa said. He didn’t sound sure.
Reki scrunched his nose and jumped off the bunk. “Gonna try another one. See if any of the mattresses are better. C’mon, help me.”
“What?”
Pointing to the side of the cabin where Langa had claimed a bunk, Reki said, “Test all those mattresses out. Find me the best one, and that’ll be my bunk. Or I can just move it to a different one.”
“Are we allowed to do that?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
Langa frowned, but he sat down on a bottom bunk and bounced lightly on the mattress. “This one is flat,” he said.
“Move on.”
They made their way through each bunk, until Reki found the perfect mattress. He got Langa to help him carry it to the bed by the door. Reki was determined to be a good counselor, and that meant keeping kids from sneaking out, even if that was what he had done. Even if those were some of his fondest memories, those stolen moments alone in the dark woods, where no one could see him, where no one could tell him what to do or who to be.
But he could have gotten hurt. So he needed to keep the kids from doing the same thing. Right? Right. That’s what it meant to be a grownup.
After they moved the mattress, Reki took his sheets and blanket from his bag and started to make the bed. Langa watched quietly. Reki couldn’t get a read on him. Oh well. There was plenty of time for that. They’d be stuck together the whole summer, after all. They’d have to become friends. Either that, or they’d hate each other’s guts.
Reki snuck a glance at Langa, who sat on his sleeping bag with his hands pressed to his knees. No, they wouldn’t hate each other. Reki was going to make certain of it.