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Fandom Qᴜᴀʀʀʏ ᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴡɴ, 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧. [IC]

TABLE FIVE

DINNER GROUP POST
T
he yawn that Connie succumbed to on her leisurely walk towards the glowing Dining Hall was more than the budding exhaustion that made her eyelids feel heavy. It was a result of, what she hoped would be a pleasant outing in Easthallow with her friends, wringing the rest of her energy into nothing but a bleak expression to show for it—evident in the way the involuntarily deep inhale melted into a sigh.

So much for a reprieve. The thought crossed her mind more than once, beginning from when she deposited her costume on her bunk—and discreetly wondered if one less counselor at dinner would raise any suspicions while she rested there. The gloom, however, was hard to maintain with the kind of company the boating instructor welcomed to tag along beside her.

The kind of girl that, thankfully, forced Connie to keep up, Joey Auer harbored enough energy for the both of them combined as she closed the distance in an unwavering stride. Even if that wasn’t the case and Fancy That!, as well as the events that followed, depleted her energy in the same way, there were no signs. It looks like she could go on for hours, Connie briefly surveyed as the two counselors crossed the hall’s threshold and suddenly basked in the stark lighting that knocked some more life into her.

Falling into the usual routine for the evening, the boating instructor made a bee-line for the board that displayed their assigned tables for dinner and quickly skimmed the lists until she caught her name, and out of curiosity, looked over who’d accompany her. Alton, Joey“Hey, we’re sitting together.” she threw a soft smile over at her friend now. “At five.” Connie then added as she moved away from the board in favor of their designated table.

An absent-minded Joey was occupied, leaning over the oval mirror fixed to the hall tree and intent on reapplying mascara to her newly dried lashes. No more crying. We're having fun tonight. She angled her face low to check for any straggling brush marks then dipped the wand back into its hot pink tube, a ritual she performed like clockwork. The brunette turned with a smile when Connie announced their seating arrangements, "Really?" she exclaimed, curiously glancing at the list before twirling on her heels to catch up. Levi too!

She wouldn’t be seated with any of her best girlfriends, but oddly, there was a strange relief in the fact that it could be so much worse. Given how the day had unfolded, nitpicking at the small stuff would just prolong the misery. She imagined what it would feel like, trapped between Rowan and Lou, or now, and somehow worse—between Kayden and Juliette. That scenario rose higher on the list of personal hells after today's outing.

Juliette.. It didn't feel good to hold onto whatever strange entity possessed her sweet friend and made her so vicious earlier. There was a quiet ache in her, a need to make sense of it if the chance came around. It wasn't like Juliette, but maybe she just wasn't paying attention. Joey knew she had the tendency for things to fly over her head. And then there was that absolute loser. She didn't even want to think about him. In fact, she hoped she'd never have to run into him again. When she caught up with Connie on the dirt path, it was the back and forth of rants and laughter that kept the circumstance lighter—saving her from the usual post-argument freak-out. Joey was thankful she'd been there for her.

Alt looked up to see Connie approaching the table. He’d gotten here a little earlier. He’d handed out the waters to the students, wandered aimlessly for a bit, and as he saw the flow of traffic into the Dining Hall, he joined in. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to the Med Bay. He’d have to see Marquis tomorrow and the next day and so on.

“Hey… uh… you,” he remarked at her, looking around at the kids that had sat down–not wanting a repeat of yesterday. Yet, something sparked in his brain as he looked around. “Connie,” he said in a demanding and surprised tone. “We need to talk about that weird wood carving you found. Another one showed up.”

Before Connie could pick a seat at the table—we need to talk about that weird wood carving you found. The sound of Alton’s voice had stopped her leisurely stride as the memory of last night began to resurface: the feeling of impending doom burrowing in her chest, the fire that ate the cabin in spite of the absence of smoke that should have engulfed her senses, and Rowan

She swallowed hard. What did he see? The sound of Joey’s footsteps advancing behind her reached her ears, propelling her to take the empty seat beside the nurse. Or who—? Who did you see? Connie scooted her chair in and forced the urge to frown away. There’s kids around. “Lani just had Arts & Crafts this morning…”

A comfort tactic for no one but herself, part of her knew wholeheartedly that no art activity would, or could ever, explain the phenomenon that instilled a sense of fear as deep as the feeling she felt while running out of the woods; while running for her life. Still, fear was what urged Connie not to completely dismiss Alton’s revelation.

“Did you um—” a shaky exhale forced its way out of her nose in an attempt to calm the anxiety threatening to riddle her body. “where did you find it?” The counselor was suddenly grateful that most of the campers at their table were distracted by their own conversations.

Alt watched as Connie deflected so as not to make the kids too interested in their chat before sitting beside him. She leaned into his ear to ask a question. His lips twisted into a tight frown. He was just about to say something when Joey popped up.

“Hii, Alton!” Joey greeted, flashing a brief smile for her favorite nurse. She took the seat next to Connie, slinging her hand bag over the back rest. A few campers called out to her in loud, humorous whispers and Joey sat in her chair, twisting her body to face them and waving back.

She’d only caught the ends of her fellow counselors’ conversation, prompting her to return to situating herself comfortably in her seat. Joey leaned in towards both of them. “Wait… What are we talking about?” She lowered her tone, wide-eyed and concerned.

Willamina’s musk clung stubbornly onto Liberty’s skin on the journey home. After she and Levi stored the drinks in the Orca Cabin, she made a beeline for her cabin to shower off the stubborn stickiness of Easthallow’s humidity and met him on the path shortly after, hair half-dried as she scrunched a towel around the ends, and Marquis’ and Altons’ costumes in hand.

“Ready,” she announces to Levi with a reluctant nod towards the Dining Hall; the odds of them sitting together for dinner was low enough for the smile to barely reach her eyes.

An agreement had been made by the time they reached the end of the trail—a quick shower, then meet up again. Levi was more than okay with that. He needed to wash away the weight of the day, the lingering thoughts of Lisa’s disappearance, and whatever the hell that receipt bill meant.

He didn’t stay too long in the shower, unwilling to let his thoughts consume him. Ask Connie about it, he reminded himself, raking a hand through his damp hair as he waited. She was her friend too.

Costumes in hand—ready to give away, basically—Levi turned at the familiar sound of Liberty’s voice. His gaze dropped to the outfits in her arms. Same idea, he mused. “Ready.”

Eager to be free of the load in her arms, they step into the Hall together and her brows crunch briefly at the hustle and bustle. She turns to fix him with a surprised look, we’re that late? and catches sight of the dinner arrangements on the notice board behind his shoulder—her lips curve up, genuine. “Not free of me yet, Jackson.”

Trailing not too far behind, but close enough for the breeze to carry a faint trace of vanilla, Levi let his gaze drift to the blonde strands of Liberty’s hair. Distracted, he barely caught the end of her words, his focus shifting instead to the dinner arrangements ahead—already dreading the possibility of sharing a table with Thomas. Until—“Hey, we’re together.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he pivoted towards her, only to pause at the sight of her own genuine expression, oblivious to the fact he had missed what she’d said. His smile lingered as he tried to recover. “Reminds me of that time we spent nearly the entire day together. Who do you think has gotten into a fight? Or on the verge of getting kicked out this time now?”

“I remember.”
Liberty says all too fondly, retracting her hand from the costumes slumped over her forearm to fiddle gently with the opal barbell at his brow. Her first glimpse of Jonathan Evergreen was a display of uncharacteristic frustration and boiling anger, offering the briefest moment of clarity for how Renee might’ve gotten away with so much—but it worked out, the two of them stealing a day to themselves.

Catching onto the end of his question, she raises both brows in consideration and turns to the counsellors gathered so far, dropping her hand. Luckily Theo isn’t a counsellor, the stray thought comes and goes, toying with the idea of Mona in her place—but, she’d never give Mona the satisfaction of seeing her out.

“I’m willing to guess… Marquis and Alton if this morning was anything to go by,” and from the unamused tone of her voice, it was clear she wouldn’t be fighting for the Suspects’ right to retain their job for much longer. She teasingly tilts her head towards Levi, meeting his gaze. “Or Thomas and you if you were so unlucky to be seated together.”

Adjusting the costumes in his grasp, Levi realized his mistake too late—warm fabric, bulky, and far too large to comfortably carry. Where the fuck am I gonna put this? He already knew he'd have to hand it off to Rowan and Elodie by the end of the day, preferably without drawing any more attention to himself than necessary.

At Liberty’s remark, he snorted, easily picturing a fight between Marquis and Alton playing out in his head. “I think Marquis would surprise us.” Catching her slight head tilt from the corner of his eye, he turned to face her, lowering his chin slightly—holding her gaze, that is, until Thomas was brought up.

“Hm.”

That was his only response at first as his eyes flickered around, scanning the unfortunate souls stuck sharing space with the resident entertainer. “Might not be so lucky for tonight, got plans.” He mused at last, a wicked grin tugging at his lips, sharp and borderline mean in its intentions. With a nod, he gestured towards their assigned table for the night. “For now, we deal with our own.”

Rounding the table to where Alton sat, sparing only a quick glance for their dinner mates, Liberty lifts the white sheet she’d purchased at Willamina. “One ‘thick white sheet’ for your upcoming nap at the campfire,” from its hovered position, she drops the material—without a flinch as it stirs the cutlery on the table before landing unceremoniously in his lap. “Might want to wash it.”

She refrains from making a comment about catching on fire. Even with last summer’s comments landing Alton as a suspect to the police, she knew better when his scarring was a result of an accident that spiralled his life, landing his frustrating presence back at the camp.

Neither of us are happy about it, and that was enough for her to round the table, planting herself across from Connie and leaving an open space for Levi.

Seeing the boating instructor caught Levi off guard—realizing he hadn’t actually read the dinner seating chart. His mouth twisted to the side before pressing into a faint line as he slid into the seat beside Liberty, positioning himself across from Joey. His gaze softened at the sight of her, offering a more genuine look before nodding in acknowledgment to the rest of the table.

“Table seems…tense,” he remarked, his tone light but observant. Then, shifting his focus, he asked, “How was shopping?” The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular—he knew he’d be satisfied hearing from either Joey or Connie.

As he waited, his mind flickered back to the receipt. When’s the right time to bring it up? Joey had been close with Lisa too, and Alton—

Breaking the thought before it spiraled, Levi let his attention drift to him, elbow propped on the table, knuckle resting against his cheek. He doesn’t seem like the type to rat, he decided, settling in as he waited for dinner, costumes in lap.

Joey's face lit up when the two counselors came into view, wide smiles for both of them. "Hey! Shopping was good—” Except for.. “Well actually...” She shot a quick look at Connie, her done dropping a notch before diving right into the brunt of the story, "We ran into this creep on the way out and at first, he seemed okay, so we, like, helped him break into his car—’cause he was locked out—-and then he started acting really weird."

Liberty situates the cowboy attire over her lap, attention captured by the obnoxious belt buckle Levi had chosen as she fights a smile of mirth until Joey breaks into a spiel, mentioning a creep and… her head jerks up, one palm pressing hard into the table. “Was his name Hal?”

Liberty was not kidding about the smell. It had that consignment shop musk to it. Alt pushed it further down his lap, having been interrupted for the third time while trying to tell Connie something. When Joey and Liberty started talking, he took that as his chance to lean into Connie and whisper into her ear. It’d look wildly clandestine to anyone looking, but knowing Alt and Connie it would be anything but.

“Marquis found it in the Med Bay.” Alt glanced at everyone at the table, trying to alleviate suspicion while undoubtedly arousing it. “He acted really nervous afterward. Liberty was there, but also called it something from Arts and Crafts. The timeline doesn’t add up to that–”

Realizing it was probably getting immensely suspicious, he pulled away a bit and said in a louder tone. “Then Marquis started crying in front of the new therapist about how he wets himself at night. Fucking TMI, dude.”

Grateful, and more than willing to let Joey act as a spokesperson for their group’s run-in back in Easthallow—her jaw ticked in annoyance as Dakota resurfaced in her memory—, Connie turned her attention to Alton as his explanation came to a close, too disturbed at the second reappearance of a wooden carving to acknowledge his dig at Marquis.

“What do you mean by acting nervous?” Forgoing the inconspicuous act, the counselor schooled herself to respond calmly by suppressing the fear she felt while they were surrounded. Connie was (mostly) confident that the topic of conversation wasn’t exciting enough to meddle in anyhow, and besides—she needed to know what he meant. “Did he say anything else?”

A border between two conversations, however, she couldn’t help her discreetly divided attention as Liberty seemed to zero in on Joey’s retelling. Her eyebrows slightly wrinkled in the middle as she wondered, who’s Hal?

At first, it was fine—Joey greeted them with a beaming smile, and Levi easily returned it, grinning as if everything wasn’t so bad. For a moment, he could pretend.

But then Joey rushed into an explanation, and the grin slipped from his face, replaced by something more serious. He shifted in his seat, resting his forearms against the table, his gaze flickering between the faces around him. “What…creep?” Breaking in? His dark eyes flicked towards Liberty, about to point at the receipt—only to realize her bag wasn’t on her.

Alt paused in Connie’s ear and looked at the others. Who’s Hal? WHO’S Dakota? None of these names rang any bells for him. Yet, the conversation seemed so intense he was having a hard time finishing his thought.

Damn. Shaking off the disappointment—one Liberty told herself was normal, not every fact would fit a theory—her hand reaches down to rummage through her shoulder bag, only to realise the sensation of it was only a phantom and she’d left it back at the cabin. “At Willamina, we found…” she bites her lip, cutting off the words to throw an encouraging look at Levi. It should be him to explain the situation—three people at this table were close with Lisa and it was their conversation to have.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just some stranger taking advantage of a group of girls?” Levi’s tone betrayed his skepticism—everyone seemed too quick to jump to conclusions. Easthallow was small, sure, but it was still a town like any other. Things happened.

Regardless, he swallowed back his own reasoning, shifting his focus to Joey’s concern and confusion instead.

Joey opened her mouth to speak, but the words faltered, caught between the shift in Levi’s demeanor. Her skin prickled and she held her arms in an attempt to subdue the goosebumps. She looked at him as he spoke in frustration, listening actively.

“We found a receipt.” Levi decided not to beat around the bush any longer. He flashed Liberty a tight-lipped smile, hoping she’d catch the unspoken appreciation for letting him be the one to tell the table. “It’s back at the cabin, but the billing recipient is some guy named Hal Philips. And Lisa’s…” He hesitated just slightly. “Her name’s signed at the bottom.”

A hand dragged over his face, frustration creeping back in—she’s still missing, and we’re grasping at anything now. But sulking wouldn’t help, it never did. Just be honest. Blunt, if you have to.

We found a receipt…And Lisa’s
Lisa…?
Connie’s face adopted a frown at the reminder of her friend’s disappearance, somehow slipping from her memory despite the constant back-and-forth reference of the man who seemed to find his amusement in the news of missing girls. It had been so fresh to her friend group, and there was an existing part of her that didn’t want to believe that history had repeated itself; that it happened again.

“She was buying a bunch of shit—paintbrushes, a jar, some coat. Probably picking up a new hobby, I don’t know. But the bill was signed nine days ago, right?” His gaze snapped to Liberty, posture straightening as his hand dropped to his lap. His leg started bouncing, anxiety taking root. Nine days, still time.

“Twenty-fourth of June,” Liberty confirms—she did the math as she showered; two Mondays ago, most likely a day off from helping out at Camp Evergreen in preparation for the new session. Her mouth opens and then closes, eager to share a theory or two, but the company at this table were the least likely to take her attempt at helping well. Instead, she hopes to settle their concerns with—“I’m going to contact Officer Jones in the morning as Leon suggested during Orientation.”

Alt was just confused. What the fuck is going on here? He thought he and Connie had some wild conspiracy, but apparently, it was a drop in the bucket compared to everything else. He knew Lisa and hot Officer Jones, so at least that made sense. And this Hal guy was implemented with Lisa, and maybe her disappearance? The rest was Greek to him.

Lisa... What was she doing? The question lodged itself in her throat, too heavy to voice. Joey bit the inside of her lip, her teeth pressing into the soft flesh as she fought the gnawing unease building within her. "Oh, god," she whispered, her voice thin and struggling to keep her voice down for the sake of the campers, "We have to tell him now!" She pushed herself up from her seat, fists held strong against the table as if that might ground her—steady her. Her shoulders withdrew, "Or... or something." Her voice wavered, then returned to a softness. "Sorry, I just have the worst feeling about this."

Her thoughts drifted back, foggy and disjointed, to the strange experience she'd had outside the costume store. She lowered her chin, eyes unfocused, trying to make sense of it all. When she finally looked up at Liberty, there was a strange, almost desperate clarity in her gaze.

"Lib, I want to come with," she announced, "I know it’s a different guy... but Dakota—there was something wrong with him, besides being a total jerk." She sank back into her seat, "The way he dressed, the way he talked—nothing about him fit. I’ve been here my whole life. Easthallow’s not a place where new people just show up, you know? Not like this."

"And maybe Officer Jones should know,"
she continued after a small pause, her words slipping out cautiously, like she wasn’t sure how much of this was real yet. Or how helpful she’d be about offering her own information to the case. Liberty was smart, she’d be real with her, she thought. The very least she could do was try. Nine days ago… Nine days ago someone saw Lisa.

Seated at the table, Levi’s posture remained tense as he watched Joey process the information they had laid before her. The corners of his mouth, once pressed into a thin line, slowly dipped into a visible frown. He wanted to tell her—we can’t go to Officer Jones yet with this. It was too soon, a bunch of assumptions. But saying that aloud would mean forcing his own beliefs onto her, dismissing the way she felt. And that wasn’t fair.

Inwardly sighing in quiet defeat, he shifted to stand, ready to coax her back down before she could make any rash decisions. But before he could act, Joey sank back into her seat, shoulders slumped, the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely above a whisper.

Without thinking, Levi reached out, his fingers gently curling around her hand, offering a soft, reassuring squeeze before pulling away. His touch was brief, a silent promise—we’ll find her. And we’ll get her back. “I guess it wouldn’t…hurt to reach out to him. I trust you.”

“You think a cop cares if someone is acting weird? My man couldn’t even solve a murder or kidnapping or whatever. He’s not going to care if someone named after a Colorado city is tweaking on meth or something.”
Alt couldn’t help it. He had to chime in. He then pressed a look to Connie and mouthed, “we’ll talk later.”

In the midst of the internal war waging within the confines of her mind, the sound of Alton’s voice momentarily pulled Connie out of her thoughts before she offered a single nod “okay” at their scheduled regrouping. Though, she hadn’t been entirely engrossed enough to dismiss the air that grew rapidly thick with tension.

He noticed that the campers around them were engrossed in the conversation like a bunch of old bitties at BINGO night. “Ignore them; they’re just having some sort of rehearsal for an X-Files stage play they’re doing or something. Huge nerds.”

“Your man?”
Levi echoed, his brows knitting together in mild confusion as he leaned back in his seat, unbothered by the prying campers. A slow blink followed before realization dawned on him, and his expression shifted. “Oh, right. You would be familiar with Officer Jones.”

Oh, right. You would be familiar with Officer Jones. Woah, wait

His gaze flicked away momentarily, landing on Connie and Joey. A hint of apology flashed in his eyes—he had no intention of ruffling feathers, but irritation simmered beneath the surface. Joey’s obvious distress was being brushed aside, and that didn’t sit right with him.

“She’s scared,” he stated plainly, voice firm. “And she made a solid point.” His jaw tensed slightly before he added, “plus, being on meth is a crime.”

Meth?? The subtle apology that Levi had offered to Joey and herself faltered the moment the conversation became heated enough to derail into heavier topics, and she couldn’t help but throw a discreet look around at the campers, whose attention to their own conversations seemed to subside in an exchange for a louder one. “Guys, I don’t think—”

Liberty’s disapproving expression turns to Alton, unamused by his misguided comment. It shouldn’t have been frustrating to overhear—not when the pale blonde walked a thin line between witty and condescending; as was now apparently evident from the previous summer. Murders and kidnappings weren’t solved in a day, months, even years—and if Alton thought the police should arrest the first person deemed suspicious enough for the crime, then his presence would be noticeably absent from the table.

“Funnily enough, Alton,” Liberty crosses her arms as she glowers at him from under her lashes. “I thought you might have more compassion for law enforcement taking their time and ensuring the right person is prosecuted. Isn’t the overpopulation of our prisons partly on account of rushed and biased decision making?”

Turning her attention towards Joey, her voice softens, “I won’t make the call to Officer Jones without you. Pinky promise.” Extending her right little finger to the swimmer, she hopes the display calms the girl further from her justified panic.

A fleeting, taut frown settled on Joey's face, her eyes dropping as the familiar burn of tears welled up once more. She inhaled deeply, the much needed breath filling her chest being a quiet plea for calmness amidst the intense banter. The table was growing more divisive by the second, and she could feel it pulling her under. Joey shook her head, not wanting to fall under the spell of dejection. Don’t cry—she reminded herself, raising her head to blink the wetness away. On any given day, she might’ve met Alton’s pointed criticism head-on, or at the very least, repeated her stance with her usual adamancy. Though, she didn't feel she had much fight in her now.

Liberty's voice tethered her—reeling her away from the impending sadness—and instinctively, she curled hers around it. The delicate gesture steadied her and she smiled, nodding at her words. “Okay. Tomorrow, let’s do it.”

Joey felt some sort of regained strength over the matter. Despite how much she resented not being taken seriously, she knew how she usually came off to people. It was no secret that she wasn’t the smartest nor the first to call for anything too serious. Especially with something this crucial, Joey wouldn't have been surprised if her suggestions were just dismissed entirely. But Levi and Liberty listened and for that, she was grateful.

Alt rolled his eyes. “It’s a turn of phrase, Levi. Or is your head too high up that you don’t have the oxygen needed for your brain to function?” He lowered his voice. “Look, I’m not dismissing anyone’s feelings on the matter–sorry Joey–I just think believing cops will help has been disproved with everything that has happened. Especially cops in Easthallow.” He ignored Liberty’s finger-pointing yet again. “I’m not saying let’s team up and be Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, but I would rely less on authority figures to do right by you.”

The history buff doesn’t bother concealing the roll of her eyes. It was an impossible task to convince anyone steadfast in their beliefs how the real world worked. She considers dumbing down the explanation for Alton, to express that a lack of faith in law enforcement was understandable in his circumstances, but writing them off for simply lacking the evidence to make a case was short-sighted and placing blame where it wasn’t.

Instead, she settles for a dismissive wave of her hand—an arrogant gesture reserved for people pulling at her patience—and sighs, “Rome wasn’t built in a day and cases aren’t closed in a year.”

Joey straightened up, turning towards Alton with a firm tenacity, "Think what you want, but we don't really have another choice here. If the clues Me and Liberty have to offer don't end up helping then whatever, at least we're trying." Her arms folded tightly across her chest. She didn't want to be mad at Alton and she couldn't, really. But it was hard to deny how frustrating his stance was. We're not hurting the case by doing this anyway.. What's the problem?

Funnily enough, Alton…It’s a turn of phrase, Levi…Think what you wantStand up.
Releasing a shaky sigh under her breath, and feeling suddenly flustered under the weight of how small the table seemed to become, Connie’s attention caught on the serving bowls that sat untouched at the end of the table. at least we're tryingThey’re too distracted. Do something.

Propelled by the idea of the argument making another round between the engrossed counselors, Connie stood up from her seat, decidedly making the effort to douse the flames of the conversation before it turned into an uncontainable wildfire. But, not before leaving, did the boating instructor place a gentle hand on Joey’s shoulder and softly squeeze—refusing to have them all mistake her mediation as invalidation of her obvious distress.

“It’s okay, Joey.” she offered in a whisper, hoping that the swim instructor noted her gesture as more than just a comfort tactic, but as an agreement. Anything they found was better than no evidence at all, and nobody at the table Connie shared it with was in any sort of position to reduce their findings as miniscule.

Overwhelmed, she welcomed the feeling of her legs solidifying as she walked toward the bowls, the adrenaline coursing through her body beginning to slowly diminish. “Sorry about that, guys. Long day.” Ensuring that her attitude didn’t reflect just how right she was with a smile, Connie grabbed the serving spork and gestured to the individual bowls still stacked. “You know the drill—single-file line if you’re hungry.”

The hand that briefly rested on her shoulder was a subtle reminder that she was holding on to far too much tension. She turned her head slightly, offering Connie a brief nod before the girl drifted away from the counselor’s side and made her way to the hot plates at the far end of the table. Joey peered down the long stretch of wood. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she watched the line of kids eagerly awaiting their portions, all very giddy and carefree. One of them caught her eye, flashing a grin as they held up their plate piled high with spaghetti. "Jojo, hurry before it's all gone!" she called out. Joey returned a short laugh, though the wavering smile remained a tad bit distant. She decided to file in line behind a pair of friends she recognized from her swim session and hear what was going on in their lives—wanting to take any chance she could to distract herself.

It’s a turn of phrase, Levi. Pulling a face and ignoring the dig at his height, Levi instead let out an open laugh—short and completely humorless. “What? I can’t point out the fact you used the term ‘my man’ like you’re buddies while also completely dismissing the whole point of Officer Jones’ job? Yeah, okay.” His voice was laced with dry amusement, but there was an underlying edge.

He rolled his eyes back. “But I’m lacking the oxygen,” he muttered under his breath, careless if Alton caught the end of his comment. Unbothered. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

If this riled up the kids, then fine. But someone was missing, and this camp was still running like it was just another summer. Why the fuck is this place still open?

The words were on the tip of his tongue, just about to spill out and add fuel to the disagreement—You piss me off—but before he could speak, a camper bumped into him, an elbow jabbing into his side. Reflexively, Levi tensed, his irritation flaring. “Watch it,” his voice tight with annoyance.

Realizing he was getting worked up over Alton’s fucking riddles and that the heat from Rowan’s massive costume still weighed on him like a furnace, he decided it was time to head back to the cabin, ditch the costume, and clear his head. Catch my breath.

“I’m gonna—” Levi didn’t even finish his sentence before Rowan walked through the dining hall doors, the sight of him catching him off guard. His frustration simmered, but he couldn’t just stay. He made the move to stand at the same time as Connie, wrapping the large costume around his arm, trying to relax. His tone was clipped but apologetic, even though the words came out short. “I’ll be back, don’t wait up,” he muttered, barely meeting Liberty's eyes as he made his way to the front of the hall.

Liberty watched Levi retreat away from the table for a second time that day. Disheartened, she has half a mind to fix Alton with another pointed stare, that’s your fault, but clamps her mouth shut for the sake of Connie and Joey. Truth or Dare was around the corner, anyway.

Following Connie’s lead, Liberty tosses an expectant look at the campers gathered around the table. One that said, serve your own food, not wanting Connie to shoulder the burden of serving thirty eight ungrateful campers and hopes the display of ladling the spaghetti onto her plate would suffice as a demonstration. She refused to parent the elite children—two weeks wasn’t enough to rewrite the previous three hundred and fifty one days at home, and Liberty saw little point in weak attempts of making an impact on them when they’d be returning to the same selfish environment in which they were raised. It was too little too late to be teaching the pre-teens empathy—or, to be self-sufficient.

A hand snatches the handle of her ladle just as she places it down, the movement jostling sauce onto the varnish. This camp needs to invest in some tablecloths. She scowls at the heavy-handedness and flicks her gaze to the offending camper, “it’s not going anywhere.” Her comment fell on deaf ears as they spoon three helpings, a sharp thwack onto the plate that twitches the corner of her eye.

She takes Levi’s plate in hand wordlessly, carefully constructing a significant amount of spaghetti as the bill of their liquor purchases comes to mind. Don’t make it easy for him, Liberty decides firmly—his day was the definition of rough and it wasn’t over just yet.

Connie had instinctively shifted slightly to the side for Liberty’s arrival, ensuring the history buff had enough space to comfortably fill a bowl while the rest of the hungry campers decidedly chose to ignore her appointed directions. Kids are kids—she spared them a fleeting look, and internally discredited the fact that the majority came from money—no matter how spoiled.

Thankful that her distraction had caused them all to settle and pick up their own conversations again, the boating instructor utilized the relative silence—or rather, the lack of an intense argument—to revisit the topic of conversation with someone she knew could remain levelheaded. Levi’s angry, Joey’s angryI’m angry… Though, she was highly aware of one thing: turning on each other would get them nowhere.

She kept her tone quiet, just enough for Liberty to hear. “I know we can’t expect everybody in town to care about them as much as we do, but…” The counselor stopped abruptly, forced to swallow the rest of her sentence when a camper’s fork tumbled to the floor in a sharp clatter. Quickly, Connie bent down to retrieve the metal utensil—starting a new pile away from the clean ones—before sending them off with a replacement. “Dakota was weird. Dakota Holt.”

The fact that the strange man’s name had to follow her back to camp could curl Connie’s lip in annoyance, disdain even, but she controlled her emotions before they could cross her features. Okay at first, I guess. But—after he got into his car, it was a different story.” She hadn’t thought to question his behavior before but, why didn’t he grab his keys? Internally scolding herself for being too caught up in trying to reprimand Juliette, a sigh followed. “We offered to call Officer Jones to keep an eye on his car just in case, but he didn’t seem interested.” This time, the curly-haired woman looked up toward her company. “Joked about how we’re known for missing girls.”

“I might just be—”
Biased? Reeling over Lisa? Missing Paige? Connie forced the thoughts to subside, choosing to bite the bullet instead. “He seemed to have a lot to say about how rich white girls got ahead even though he had a daughter to get to. Could be nothing but an ass with nothing else interesting going on for himself, but I’d rather not rule him out entirely either.”

At Connie’s hushed tone, Liberty tilts her head in the green thumb’s direction—the conversation away from prying campers hastily reaching for their servings—and chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Holt? A clear disadvantage lay in the fact she didn’t hail from Easthallow like her fellow counsellors, but from the suspicious tones of both Connie and Joey, it seemed Dakota and Hal were a mystery even to them.

Joked about how we’re known for missing girls. Liberty kept her gaze downwards, busying herself with the act of loading Levi’s bowl—only to reluctantly switch into assisting the campers, a task she previously loathed to do—for the purpose of continuing their conversation without raising any curious ears. At that comment, she glanced up. Part of her longed to jump to a conclusion—maybe the residents of Easthallow are resigned to their newly unfortunate pattern. But Liberty was standing with a grieving counsellor, a resident, and knew that couldn’t be the answer.

Liberty was unable to help the quiet surprise by the revelation coming from Connie, no less, a girl she was cordial with at best but hadn’t the chance to deepen their companionship beyond that of co-workers. “No one should be ruled out.” Not even us. A notion she bites back from sharing in the middle of a dinner when she, Joey, and Levi had been through enough for a single day.

“A daughter…?” There were barely enough children in the population of Easthallow to fill up the school. Children from neighbouring towns bussed in daily to attend and increase funding, and if the name Holt rang no bells for people that lived in the town all their lives—

“A father wouldn’t say that about missing girls.” Liberty states, a whisper to her voice.

Alt stood, bored and done with this. He moved towards the food and ladled some spaghetti onto a plate before grabbing utensils and sitting back down again. They all decided to turn against him, thinking he didn’t want the police involved because he was guilty of something. That was not the case. Well, it wasn’t the entire case. Alt just didn’t trust the cops. He’d been here less than twenty-four hours and found one clue, and he was around when Liv found the other. They hadn’t done a good sweep but acted as if they knew everything. What if they were in on it?

If they want to align themselves with corrupt pigs, then go ahead. I’m having nothing to do with it, he thought while chasing noodles around his plate. Alt hadn’t eaten anything all day, and his stomach was tied in an angry knot. He didn’t know if he wanted to aggravate it by continuing not to eat or aggravate it by eating. Either seemed right.

Nodding, Connie’s gaze drifted upward at movement in her peripheral vision, only to find a silent—but thoroughly—apathetic nurse serving himself a bowl of pasta and quietly returning to his seat. The two weren’t exactly close, only just brushing on cordiality at the start of this new session, but the green thumb hadn’t been oblivious to how the table flipped on him in response to his two cents.

He had strong opinions—everyone was entitled to one—but at some point in her life, Connie could, and still often sympathized, with losing the same faith in law enforcement that he had, flaring up again at the sight of aged missing posters in town, and yet another unfortunate repeat that they had only all learned happened days ago to a cherished friend.

A huff—If they couldn’t even save Paige… Once Connie had begun to feel the familiar sting of her eyes dampening again, she inhaled strongly, welcoming a reset in remembrance of where she was and who was beside her. We’ll find her. Or, with any luck, all of them.

“Oh—” struck by one last thought, the boating instructor waited until the last camper was served and seated before she addressed Liberty again. “The library. That’s where Dakota said he was going before we all left. To meet a friend or something.”

Between the time crunch they had been under while Kayden worked to get his car unlocked and the unspoken knowledge of an early curfew for businesses, any local to Easthallow would have given up their errand as long as a wrench inconvenienced it. It was common knowledge: the wrench was their errand now.

In an attempt to make sure that everyone was accounted for before dismissing herself, Connie caught sight of the former musician making his slow return to table five, an unreadable expression on display. Hope he’s feeling better, at least. With a gentle nudge against Liberty’s arm, the woman nodded upward toward Levi, an unspoken signal to end the conversation. “I’m gonna sit. Good luck with Officer Jones tomorrow.” She offered a small smile before leaving with a bowl in hand.

“Mm.” Liberty eyes were trained on an empty spot of the table, taking in the information Connie willingly divulged. Officer Jones and her met only once—that day—as each counsellor was pulled into the department for a round of questioning. It was impossible to determine what his reaction might be to talks of—Hal. Dakota. Library. A daughter. A friend. The receipt—a small touch at her arm pulls Liberty from her focus, settling on the person that embodied restless energy, but managed to be a surprising calm in the history buff’s circling storm of resentment.

She understands Connie’s message loud and clear—Levi wasn’t in any suitable mental state to dissolve further into the tenuous discussion, not when a night of drinking and pointing fingers was right around the corner—nodding, grateful he still had a friend from Lisa’s tight knit circle looking out for him, Liberty willing steps towards their seats. “Thanks for sharing, Connie.”

Motioning to Levi with a wave of her hand and sincere smile to rejoin her—them—Liberty settles across from Joey once more and engages with the swimmer, “find what you were looking for at the store?”

Making his way back towards his assigned table, Levi felt a little bit better after his discussion with Rowan—relieved, at the very least, that he had one less costume to worry about. The flurry of red fabric beside Liberty caught his eye, his seat thankfully saved, and he heaved out a quiet sigh as he slid into it.

But as he settled in, his movement halted at the sight of an already plated meal waiting for him.

Raising a brow, he shot the blonde a knowing look, his gaze silently reading thanks in return. No need for words—disrupting the conversation happening before him felt disrespectful. Instead, he reached for his fork, letting the familiar rhythm of dining hall chatter wash over him.

Dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin, Joey's eyes brightened. ”Yes! Actually, I’ll be Dorothy tonight.” She flashed a smile, shrugging lazily. “I’m never usually this last minute, but Fancy That! never fails.” She tilted her head, eyes moving between Levi and Liberty, “And you guys? Wait—don’t tell me.. Pondering for a moment on whether the two were coupling up for their costumes this year. Normally she had some good suggestions to make, but with how draining the day was she felt awfully blank.

Liberty wasn’t sure that Joey would be strutting in a pair of ruby slippers across the yellow brick road to success and happiness while at Camp Evergreen, but the childlike wonder of Dorothy Gale seemed all too fitting for the young basket case. Click your heels and protect yourself from evil, Joey—or whatever Hal Philips and Dakota Holt were.

“Okay just tell me—Wait! I got it. Pulp Fiction. No, Natural. Born. Killers. Final answer.”—and if she was wrong, there would now be two fabulous future options at their disposal.

About to raise a fork to his mouth, Levi openly laughed at Joey’s guess, the sound coming freely before he dropped his fork with a soft clatter. His interest piqued, he leaned in, forearms resting against the table as he decided to get in on the fun, hoping to keep the good mood rolling.

“Fuck, how did that quote go again?” he mused, eyes narrowing in thought as his posture relaxed, tension slipping from his shoulders. “Something like… you look in the forest and you see species killing other species—” He paused, letting the moment stretch for dramatic effect, his gaze drifting across the table. He even lingered on Alton for a beat before settling back on Liberty and Joey. “—our species killing all species, including the forest, and we just call it industry, not murder.”

With a tap on the table—not quite a smack, but firm enough to showcase his passion—he grinned. “Solid quote. Plus, Pulp Fiction would’ve been fun. Didn’t know you were a little movie buff, Jo. Good taste.”

He shot her a knowing look, though He didn’t voice it, but Joey’s assumption about the costume made him think back to Nicolas at Willamina—and the way he had assumed they were a couple. Was there something I was missing? Have I been that obvious?

"They had to teach me something before I got kicked out!" Joey laughed, grinning wide, clearly pleased her movie knowledge was coming in handy to impress her friends.

“Close,” Liberty speaks after swallowing her first mouthful of spaghetti—far better than what Paige typically served—and spins her fork to gather the noodles. Forcing the image of both movies to take over the confused satisfaction of their assumed couple costume again, Liberty glances at Levi briefly before continuing, “Natural Born Killers? Mack has the hair for it, not me—”

“Mack!”


Liberty pauses mid-chewing. Did I hear that correctly? Convinced the campers might only be jesting, it wasn’t until a hushed silence fell across the room that the history buff drifted her gaze to the Hall’s entrance. Bleached blonde hair is all Liberty needed to glimpse to accept this was real. Her hand falls to Levi’s wrist as she rises from the chair, squeezing for a moment, with a smile of disbelief being cast around towards her tablemates.

Fuck, I think I need a cigarette. Taking a slow drink from his cup of water to still the familiar itch, Levi nearly froze as a familiar name was shouted across the dining hall. The silence that followed didn’t go unnoticed, but he convinced himself he had misheard.

Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention back to his plate, twirling the pasta around his fork with forced nonchalance—only for a hand to wrap around his wrist, halting him mid motion. He barely had time to glance at Liberty before she was already rising from her seat, her eyes locked on something—or someone—at the front of the room. Levi followed her gaze, catching the sight of familiar chopped hair. Well, that was easy.

“Mack? She’s back?” He redirected the question towards the others at the table—toying with the idea of letting Liberty have her moment alone, while also curious to know how the resident stoner was doing.

By the way the two danced around the subject, Joey was pretty sure of one thing: it was a couples costume. A playful smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head. "Okay, true, Mack totally does, but—"

Joey paused, watching Liberty head off, then hesitated, brow furrowing. She thought she’d heard a camper calling out from a distance but couldn’t quite place it. She turned to Levi, who pulled her back into the moment with the claim that Mack—Mack fucking Griffin—was in their vicinity.

"MACK?" Joey’s voice shot out in surprise, her eyes darting back to find Liberty. Then, finally, the embrace confirmed everything. “Oh my god!!”

Without missing a beat, Joey excused herself, her bag nearly slipping off the back of her chair as she darted toward the infamous blonde shag.

“What…?” Connie had only half-listened to the conversation taking place at the table, and spared the occasional glance away from her plate to acknowledge the different movies being referenced between her friends. For the most part, she was consumed in trying to satiate the empty feeling in her stomach that only now became unpleasant as the various Italian scents filled her senses. But, a name she hadn’t heard in well over a year caused the forkful of spaghetti to pause in mid-air.

Can’t be her—Immediately betrayed by her memory of the choppy blonde head of hair that used to occupy Paige’s other side, the hand that held the fork naturally came down, wrist resting on the edge of the table. She was kicked out…

She didn’t want to, but her conscious wouldn’t let her continue eating until she confirmed otherwise. Slowly, Connie turned to face the direction Liberty had run off to, and the hunger died with the last of her will to pretend that she could still manage the rest of the night.

Jonathan must’ve been desperate to rehire someone who—willing the rest of the thought away, and unable to spare patience that had been stretched thin by today’s events, the green thumb dropped the utensil, a harsh clatter emanating when it came in contact with her plate.

Tapping his knuckles against the edge of the table, Levi openly stared as the numbers at the front of the room slowly grew. Joey trailed behind Liberty, other counselors reacting in their own ways to Mack’s sudden reappearance. Sly, he thought, lips twitching slightly. What the fuck did she have to do to get back?

And then—shit.

Leaning back, he subtly searched the room for another familiar head of blonde hair, eyes catching on Lou a few tables down. He didn’t even need to see his face to know exactly what he was thinking. His stomach gave a dull twist, yeah..Sorry, man. I had no clue.

The former band geek winced inwardly, knowing it had taken him pointing out that Mack got kicked out, that Renee was somehow behind it, and that Lou might as well step in to fill the free spot—because why the fuck not?

Lazily, he lifted an arm, gesturing vaguely in Mack’s direction, only to hear the sharp clatter of a fork hitting a plate a little too hard. Easy target for truth or dare if you ask me,” he muttered, aiming for indifference as his attention flickered towards Connie, curiosity tugging at his expression. She good? “You alright?”

You alright? No

The boating instructor barely registered the sound of Levi’s question at first, her mind still stuck on the image of Mack standing there like she was never gone—like she hadn’t left a mess in her wake. It was almost laughable. Just when Connie thought Mack had taken the past with her, she somehow found a way to weasel back into the picture and stir up old feelings.

But the weight of her friend’s gaze was hard to miss, and the woman knew that he saw the split-second crack in her usual composure. “Yeah,” she answered Levi finally, voice even yet her tight-lipped smile contradicted her attempt. Her fingers itched to pick the fork back up, if only to give herself something to do, but the hunger vanished. Instead, she reached for her glass of water, letting the condensation dampen her palm before taking a sip. Neverrrrr better…”

Elbow deep in a noodle and thought, Alt jerked his head up when someone exclaimed, “Mack!” And people were surprised that he was back. “Good. Someone else can be the pariah for a change,” he grumbled softly under his breath.

Not wanting to stare too long, Levi averted his gaze at the sight of that familiar tight-lipped smile—one he was all too aware of wearing himself when uncomfortable. Best to leave it alone, she said she’s good.

Connie dragging her word caught his ear, along with the muffled end of Alton’s comment, but Levi only sucked his teeth in response. The whole room felt heavier, like the air had thickened the moment Mack reappeared. And fuck, if that didn’t remind him of his own past, the wilder parts of himself he’d shoved aside.

Itching for a smoke now, he decided to excuse himself, slipping out without much fanfare. His hand automatically found his pocket, fingers curling around the familiar weight of his lighter and pack of cigs. One wouldn’t hurt.

cast:
location:
camp dining hall.

tags:
alton ( blue UP blue UP ), joey ( spareparts spareparts ), levi ( anyasjoy anyasjoy ), liberty ( lostbird lostbird ), & connie (mina).
 
Last edited:
table six

dinner group post
O
f everything that could be said about this camp, the one thing Thomas wasn’t expecting to say on his return to camp was that he had enjoyed his first day. Now, “enjoyed” would be a stretch, but he had certainly had a better time than he was expecting. Nobody had given him grief over the whole thing with the twins, nobody had forced him to pretend to be excited about something he couldn’t care less about and, most importantly, he had even managed to enjoy some rest and relaxation in the lake without any problems.

All in all, he couldn’t have asked for a much better start to camp than this one. The only hope, now, was that camp stayed this way. He knew it was wishful thinking, but just yesterday, he would have considered having a decent day at camp at all wishful thinking as well.

All that to say that as Thomas made his way to the Dining Hall for dinner, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face. He’d even told himself that just because he was feeling so good, he’d put in a little effort during dinner to be nicer than usual. More than anybody at this camp deserved, to be sure, but he needed to do something with all this positive energy, otherwise he might end up actually enjoying camp. And such a crime could never be allowed. He had a reputation to uphold.

Unlike Thomas, Kayden had not had an ideal time on his first full day of camp. There’d been positives: his survivalist activity had gone fine, he’d had some fun on the shopping trip when he was actually at the store, and he’d liked Ellie well enough. Plus, he’d come back with an easy costume for Truth or Dare tonight.

And yet, the negatives stacked up against them. Another girl was missing. He’d gotten into it with Juliette in town. Despite his own initial judgement, he’d gone against his gut and broken into a car to find out the guy he helped was probably only interested in stealing from it. With all the cards on the table, he wasn’t calling it a win on his behalf.

At least his dinner table could’ve been worse. The company at his table wasn’t the worst, although Shiloh’s name was a surprise to see. He hadn’t been at camp since, what, 1994? This seemed like a strange time to come back out of the woodwork, but Kayden had never been friends with the guy. It’s not like he could say what was or wasn’t in character for him.

The rest of the table was okay. Bonnie, Mack, and Thomas were a trio of people he didn’t have strong opinions about, but they were fine to share a meal with. Certainly better than Juliette— after their spat, he’d be glad to go a few days without seeing a head of platinum blonde hair floating around. In fact, when he got to the table, he was almost glad to see Thomas sitting there.

“Hey,” he said by way of greeting, sliding into one of the open spots across from the other guy. “Know what’s for dinner yet?”

Thomas heard a voice and looked up to see Kayden. He met the greeting with a nod of his head - an upward nod, not a downward one, as was the proper response. In response to the question, Thomas simply shrugged.

“Just got here, myself. Could have sworn that I’d be late. Looks like nobody’s in a rush for dinner today.” Thomas thought for a second, giving a little more consideration to where everyone else could be. “Either that or they’re still freaking out over what to wear to Never Have I Ever or whatever it is y’all play.”

Thomas understood it was tradition but one year as a camp counselor isn’t enough to make you suddenly care about the traditions and whatever else the other counselors used to keep themselves busy.

In fact, Thomas was considering not going at all. However, there are only two things that could possibly come from that. The first, and more likely, is that they’d find a way to use his absence to cook up a rumor that he was out killing some other girl and laughing at her. He didn’t care much about that one in particular. It would be a mild inconvenience at best.

However, the real deciding factor for him going was that, if he wasn’t there, he would only give the other counselors more reasons to dislike him. And, if they disliked him enough, it was possible that it would start to bleed unto interactions with the campers. And that, Thomas refused to let happen. No matter what the others thought of him, he wanted to be good at this job and he’d actually started caring about some of the kids. To sacrifice that because he didn’t want to take part in some silly tradition wouldn’t be right.

Plus, if nothing else, going meant that he’d get to see all the silly costume ideas everyone else came up with.

Kayden snorted. “I’d rather play Never Have I Ever.” At least then, he’d be saved from the more pointed questions Truth or Dare often brought out. Sure, a good never have I ever been to juvie might knock some of the wind out of his sails, but at least they couldn’t use it to pry something out of him. Hell, they might even learn something.

Too bad they were stuck with tradition. He glanced towards the kitchen in anticipation of actual food. Walking to and from Easthallow had found him hungrier than he expected to be. Then, to the door— where was everyone else?

His attention was stolen by the camper to his left— Jimmy, maybe? One of the new faces he’d talked to earlier at survivalist activities. The kid must have been at least eleven or twice, but the baby fat on his cheeks made him look nine or younger. He’d kicked his hiking boot up onto his seat like he was presenting it.

“Can you help me?” He asked. “Somebody in my cabin showed me how to triple knot it this morning, and now I can’t get it undone.”

Kayden withheld the sigh in his throat and nodded his head instead. “Sure bud,” he replied. “I got you.”

Despite the rough start to her day, Bonnie could happily rejoice in the fact that it hadn't affected the rest of it and that her first day back at camp hadn't been a total disaster.

The morning had been stressful—being scolded by her mother first thing had set a sour tone, and missing the bus only made matters worse. But Bonnie had refused to let it dampen her spirits. Being found by her friends and going shopping had helped, even if the man they had met afterwards had been more than a little creepy. But as soon as she stepped into camp and heard the familiar laughter of children, all her worries melted away. The music lessons were amazing. Watching the kids’ faces light up when they picked up an instrument, seeing their little fingers try to master chords and rhythms—it reminded her exactly why she loved this job. By the time the day had wound down, she felt lighter, relieved that things had taken a turn for the better.

Now, as she approached the dinner table, Bonnie was determined to keep the good momentum going. She didn’t know Thomas or Kayden very well, and the other two names on the seating chart didn’t ring a bell either, but that didn’t matter. She loved meeting new people, and to her, every new interaction was an opportunity to make a friend.

With her usual bright energy, she plopped into her seat with an enthusiastic grin.

“Hiiiiiii!” Bonnie greeted the two men at the table, her voice lilting into a cheerful, sing-song tone. Her platinum blonde hair bounced with the movement as she sat up straight, eager to chat. “I hope you guys don’t mind a little extra sunshine at the table, because I am starving and in an amazing mood." She clapped her hands together once, beaming at them both, her eyes sparkling with the same warmth she always carried. A rocky morning wasn’t going to ruin her night—no way.

Glancing up from the shoestrings in his hands, Kayden offered Bonnie a quick hey before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Thomas’ attention was ripped away from Kayden by an emphatic greeting from someone approaching the table. Watching them, he blinked once. Blinked twice, and then a short, unexpected laugh burst out. This wasn’t the bitter, spiteful laugh that he was most famous for - first with the sisters and then, more recently, with Lisa. This was a genuine laugh that came from a place even Thomas had almost forgotten that he had.

“Oh, I definitely don’t mind. In fact, I’d say I need you at any table where I’m sitting from here on out.” Looking her over, Thomas couldn’t quite say that he knew who she was, but the face was familiar. “So? What’s your name and where have you been hiding?” The true question was where was she when everyone was on his case for laughing at the sister’s disappearance, but, on the off chance that she didn’t know about that, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. He’d finally found someone other than Leon and Levi that he could enjoy being himself around and, call him selfish, but he was moderately hesitant to let go of that.

Bonnie’s face lit up the moment Thomas laughed, the sound catching her completely off guard in the best way. "Well, that’s just about the sweetest welcome I could ask for," she said, grinning. "I’m Bonnie! And I wasn’t hiding exactly—just getting my bearings. It’s my first day this year and it’s a lot to take in, you know?" she stated with a casual shrug before continuing, the social bug in her taking over and causing the music teacher to begin info-dumping more than she probably needed to. “I got lost on my way here but I did eventually get found and made it here so not the terrible.” She nodded, no signs of embarrassment lingering in her system now that she was safely at camp.

She studied him for a second, her head tilting slightly as she gave Thomas a thoughtful once-over. "I do think I’ve seen you around before, though. Can’t quite place where, but I’ll figure it out." She stated with a smile, trying to rack her brain to see if she could place him but falling short. It was alright. As long as he didn’t take offense Bonnie didn’t see why it had to hinder their current conversation. "So, do we know what’s for dinner yet? And more importantly—am I sitting near my new favorite person, or should I be concerned?" The teasing lilt in her voice made it clear she wasn’t actually concerned at all.

Thomas listened - genuinely interested about something happening on camp grounds for once - a gentle smile fixed on his face as he listened to her ramble on.

Unfortunately, the good time didn’t last as he was reminded that, even with someone as radiant as her, he still had to keep his guard up. Thomas’ eyes narrowed ever so slightly when she mentioned finding out where she knew him from. No matter how upbeat she seemed right now, Thomas had a feeling that - like everyone else - it would disappear once she remembered who he was and what was floating around about him. Perhaps she wasn’t like that, but life had taught him that it was usually better to go in expecting the worst out of people.

However, until that time came, he was going to enjoy the company. After all, who knew when next he’d be able to enjoy another conversation? Whenever he managed to steal Leon away, maybe. But that was too far off for him to bank on.

However, his expression had already changed and the only thing he could do at this point was lean into it. He knit his eyebrows together and fixed his face with the meaning look he could muster, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh. “You should definitely be concerned.” Not entirely false, associating with Thomas seemed guaranteed to negatively affect one’s camp social standing. But, with how bubbly she was, he doubted she’d have a problem attracting people to her. “Look how scary and intimidating I look right now.”

Bonnie blinked at him, tilting her head like a curious puppy. For a second, she actually considered being concerned because that’s what he’d told her to do— but then she took one look at his not-so-serious expression and immediately broke into a bright, amused smile. Bonnie’s grin never wavered, not even for a second. If anything, Thomas’s attempt at looking intimidating only made her more amused. She pressed her lips together like she was trying to take him seriously, but her eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter.

"Oh, definitely terrifying," she said, matching his earlier teasing, voice light with mock horror. “Honestly, I don’t know how I haven’t bolted yet. What was I thinking?” She gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as if she were truly scandalized. Then, Bonnie leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was sharing a very serious secret. “Except I don’t think you’re really trying to scare me right now.” He would be acting a lot meaner if that was his actual goal.

Sitting back and settling into her seat the blonde began to idly swing her legs under the table. “But since you’re so scary then you won’t mind keeping the kids in line then.”

Thomas blinked, entirely caught off guard by how the tables had been flipped on him. After a moment, all he could do was laugh. The cynical part of him wondered if that was her plan from the get-go, but it didn’t matter much anymore. And, on the plus side, Thomas actually enjoyed looking after the kids, so he wasn’t going to complain about getting stuck with them.

Having entered with his sister, Shiloh looked over the seating arrangement. “Darn, not at the same table,” he muttered for just him and his sister to hear. Once he laid eyes on the table he was meant to be seated at, he made one final check in with Liv, before pulling her in for a hug. With a quick kiss to the top of her head, Shiloh parted ways from his sister.
Weaving through the tables and chairs, Shiloh found himself face to face with…. You’ve got to be effing kidding me, none other than Thomas. There was also Kayden, someone he vaguely remembered from his camper days, and another girl he had never seen before, either Bonnie or Mack from the tacked up list. Shiloh gave the campers at the table a thinly-pressed smile as he picked an open chair at the table.

He gave a small wave to the rest of the counselors, “Sorry for being late,” his words sounded as if he had more to say, but Shiloh didn’t care to explain himself further, shown by his silence and flickering eyes.

As if the day couldn’t get any better, his comfortable smile broke into a completely goofy grin as he saw Shiloh. However, unlike last time, Thomas had decided to be less…Thomas this time around. Whether it was because he was already in a good mood or because the newcomer to the table had infected him with her “sunshine” was unclear. But the end product was a Thomas who was actually going to make an effort to be tolerable.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t mystery-not-new-person who never introduced himself.” Thomas chuckled a little at himself. Okay, so, maybe being “tolerable” was subjective, after all. “By the way. Sorry if I was a lot to swallow back there.” He gave a shrug. “I’m a lot in general and it takes people some time to adjust to that.” He gave Shiloh a once over and then smirked. “But I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it…eventually.” And that, there, was one core thing about Thomas. He would never apologise for who he was, but he was at least present enough to understand that who he is might not be for everyone. And if they never ended up warming up to him and his personality, he has no problem showing people the door and even helping to make sure that it does hit them on their way out.

The absolute best that Shiloh could offer in that moment was one of the thin-lipped smiles he had been offering all the campers. “Name’s Shiloh.” he offered to Thomas, not even realizing he never properly introduced himself upon their first interaction. Although, to be fair, he had still been completely thrown off by the small wooden totem he had found, the images still flashing in his mind of his two best friends by the lake. Shiloh also made it a point to direct his self-introduction to the others at the table. He couldn’t promise Kayden remembered him, but the bubbly girl was certainly new. Guess I could have some manners and make sure people know my name.

His eyes flicked from Thomas to around the room, trying to find either of them. He was more than thankful that he was able to reconnect with Leon upon his arrival, but where was Levi? Did Levi even know he was back? Was Levi even at camp this year? And who the hell was he going to tell about those stupid images he saw when he picked up the totem?

“You don’t have to apologize,” Shiloh’s words were short and blunt, but not inherently rude per se, “There’s a lot of things I still have to get used to,” he all but mumbled the last half of his sentence, eyebrows rested in their regular posture; a scowl. It might’ve taken someone who knew Shiloh for the past few years to know it wasn’t an angry scowl, but purely one of confusion. A lot of his confusion was of course coming from Thomas, but there was also a bit of confusion from the bright and bubbly girl at their table. I didn’t know anybody had that much cheer in them for being at a camp with the Evergreens missing.

Thomas narrowed his eyes at Shiloh. Not in an offensive way, but as though he was studying him - seeing him for the first time just now. Upon their first meeting, Thomas was certain that Shiloh was simply not his cup of tea, but he seemed to have more of a brain than most other counselors at the camp. At the very least, he was realistic enough to understand that the world didn’t exist solely for him and that, in Thomas’ book, was a significant improvement from most other counselors.

Realising that, by bumping into both Shiloh and Bonnie, his day had somehow gotten even more alright - because God forbid Thomas call something good or, worse, great - than it had been before. So much so that he was thinking about walking out right now before someone found some clever way to ruin the day.

“Careful, Shiloh, keep talking like that and I’ll actually have to be nice to you, and we can’t have that. Can’t have these kids -” he turned to face them, fixing them with a playfully scary look, resulting in a fit of flinches and giggles from the kids, “- thinking I’ve gone soft.”

Shiloh’s eyebrow raised, watching how Thomas joked with the campers. Something about Thomas being good with the kids was slightly surprising. Not by much, since they were counselors at a summer camp. Well, Shiloh wasn’t, he certainly wasn’t the best with kids. At one point he thought he would’ve been, but there was relief that Officer Jones called him back to be security; not a counselor.

The guard looked at the campers, offering the same tight-pressed smile to them, unsure of what to say. So he favored with keeping his mouth closed, letting Thomas and the bubbly girl handle them. At the forefront of Shiloh’s mind was solving what had happened with the Evergreen sisters; and now what happened to this Lisa girl. So the last thing Shiloh wanted to do was draw the campers’ attention towards that when they could be focusing on having fun at camp.

Shiloh nodded his head in Thomas’ direction, the best he could do at “playing along” with Thomas’ ruse with the kids. When the young eyes had darted away from him, he shifted his own eyes to scan the room again; this time in search of his sister and a certain ex-boyfriend of hers. Doing his own silent check in with her, hoping she wasn’t sat near him.

Bonnie had been following the conversation like an eager puppy, eyes flicking between Thomas and Shiloh with obvious curiosity. She wasn’t entirely sure what their history was, but she did know that she liked the way Thomas made the kids laugh, and she wasn’t the least bit put off by Shiloh’s scowl. Some people just carried their thoughts on their face, and that was okay.

At Thomas’ joke about going soft, she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand before shaking her head. "I think you’re safe, Thomas. But I don’t think kindness is a bad thing. It actually takes a lot of strength, you know? Way harder than pretending not to care." She said it lightly, no judgment—just an honest little thought, the way she often shared them. Honestly, one might say that Bonnie sometimes cared about things a little too much.

"You said your name is Shiloh right?" Turning her eyes back to their newest addition she repeated his name with a smile, almost like she was doing her best to commit it to memory. "That’s a really cool name. Sounds almost mysterious." Considering this was her first time meeting the man seemed pretty on theme with the mystery aspect. "Well, it’s really nice to meet you! I’m Bonnie.”

Shiloh turned towards the bubbly girl, now knowing her as Bonnie. Her energy seemed contagious, chalking Thomas’ more amiable behavior to Bonnie’s light; it was almost like she exuded sunshines and rainbows. So much so, that the corner of Shiloh’s mouth was tugged into a half-way warm smile. “Thank you, it’s very nice to meet you too, Bonnie.”

At Bonnie’s comment, Thomas turned from the kids to her, fixing her with an appraising brow. Her comment didn’t sound critical or offensive - she probably wasn’t even aware of how much it applied to Thomas. Still, she’d just stabbed him with some hard truth and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel it. However, in true Thomas fashion, he refused to admit defeat so easily.

With most other people, Thomas would have launched a clever come back their way in a heartbeat. However, it would be unfair to her to be so harsh when she had been nothing but pleasant to him.

Instead, he leaned in close to the kid sitting closest to him, keeping his eyes on Bonnie and whispering just loud enough for her to hear. “I think she’s on to me.” There was a small laugh from the camper, before they leaned toward Thomas and whispered something in his ear as well.

Whatever the kid said set his face with a bright smile, one that was distinctly rare for Thomas; the type you’d see on someone who had just got everything they wanted for Christmas and then some. Pulling away from the camper, Thomas leaned back, smiling contentedly to himself, though he gave no indication that he was going to share what the camper said that had gotten him smiling so much.

After at least a solid two minutes working on the tightest knot he’d ever seen a kid manage to tie, Kayden pulled apart the shoestrings he’d been untangling. They hung limp from the lace guard, looking more exhausted than Kayden himself felt. Great— just the company he wanted to align himself with. Jimmy’s shoelaces.

“All set,” he said, with a light smack to the side to tell the kid his foot should go back on the floor. When he lifted his head back to the table, there were new faces. A splattering of other campers had made it to dinner, as well as two more counselors. He’d registered Bonnie’s voice, despite how focused he’d been on his task, but the latest arrival had escaped his notice.

Kayden stared at him for a second before it registered. Shiloh’s name on the list had stood out to him on the list, but after so many years, he didn’t recognize the guy on a first glance. He seemed taller, with more muscle than Kayden remembered. Then again, a person changes a lot between, what? Seventeen and twenty-six?

“Hey,” he said, lip curling up at the corner; he wasn’t the most social guy, but Shiloh had always been nice enough to him. “Long time, no see. Welcome back.”

Shiloh’s attention turned back to Kayden, a smirk creeping up on his lips, “Hey man,” he shifted in his seat to face him better, “Thanks, it’s good to see you,” his voice was mellow, but excitement was noticeable. He was glad there was someone at his table that he actually knew from his camper years.

His eyes shifted to the camper he had just finished helping, his smile growing ever so slightly before returning to Kayden, “Glad to see one of the two of us grew to be good with the campers,” he poked some fun at himself, “I think they’re all scared of me,”

The joke earned him a snort. “Might be more about being good with knots than it is about being good with kids,” he replied. Not like he was bad with them, but Jimmy probably didn’t know the lodge from the lake at this point— not like he picked Kayden for anything other than convenience.

“Besides, they probably heard a legend about you winning a wrestling match with a wolf. Intimidating.”

Shiloh couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him, “You fu- you freaking remember that?” he quickly caught himself from letting profanities fly loose around all the kids. “I didn’t think anyone would remember, figured Jonathan was in the business of sweeping things under the rug,” he couldn’t help the small sting of dark humor that slipped out of his mouth.

Kayden blinked— “Wait, that was real? I thought Danny Whittaker was making stuff up again when he told me.”

Falling into who he used to be, the camper Shiloh, he wiggled his eyebrows as his shit-eating grin stayed strong, “Yes, dude, ask Liv. I’ve even got the scars on my chest to prove it,” his eyes bounced around to the campers again, “Buuuut I’m not about to show you right now. Trust, though,” he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, “Danny was a big fat liar, but he was actually telling the truth with that,”

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Bonnie cut into the conversation, eyes wide in disbelief as she leaned in and looked at Shiloh as if he had just grown a second head out of thin air, mouth open in visible shock. “You fought a wolf? Like a real one? With claws and teeth and everything?" She looked around the table, expecting someone to laugh or tell her he was joking, but no one did. That was somehow even more shocking.

"Okay, but how? Did you punch it? Wrestle it? Talk to it? Because, honestly, I think I would have gotten into that situation after trying to pet one and learning the hard way." Bonnie admitted with a sigh. She was joking. For the most part at least. If she ever had the chance to pet a wolf without having to worry about being attacked then she would take it in a heartbeat. She leaned in even closer, studying him like he was some kind of mythical warrior out of one of the fantasy books she sometimes read. "That’s like the coolest and also most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard." She paused for a beat, then grinned. "Wait… are you secretly part-wolf? Is that why you’re all broody?" Her voice was light, clearly teasing, but the awe in her expression was completely real. Shiloh had just skyrocketed to the top of her list of one of the most interesting people at camp.

Shiloh’s attention turned to Bonnie, quickly sending a teasing ‘see what you’ve done?’ look to Kayden before answering Bonnie; even if he had to wait a bit for her to finish her whole and complete thoughts. “Yep, a real wolf, and yes, with claws and teeth and everything.” Shiloh repeated Bonnie’s statement, not necessarily hating the attention.

It’s better than everyone pestering me about being gone for so long.

“A group of us were walking along a trail, and a wolf jumped out of the woods. I wasn’t about to let it get my best friend,” Shiloh shrugged, keeping his arms folded, “So I shoved Leon out of the way and,” he paused, recalling the memory and comparing it to Bonnie’s questions, “I guess it was kinda like wrestling it? The wolf did end up on top of me at one point, but eventually-” Shiloh paused again, looking around at the campers, some hadn’t paid him any extra mind, while others were wholly engaged with the story. Maybe don’t mention all the gorey details, hm?

“Eventually, the wolf was tired of trying to fight me, ended up running back to the woods.”

Kayden sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Damn,” he muttered, low enough to escape the ears of the children around them.

Bonnie listened with wide, sparkling eyes, completely enthralled as Shiloh confirmed every unbelievable detail. She barely blinked, hanging onto every word like a kid hearing their favorite bedtime story for the first time.

"You wrestled it," she repeated, as if saying it out loud would help her fully grasp just how insane that was. "Like, full-on wrestled a wolf. And then it just… gave up?" She huffed out a breath, shaking her head in pure amazement. "I mean, I’ve heard of staring contests with wild animals before, but you physically fought one off and made it out with only some scars?" She let out a small, delighted laugh. "That is so much cooler than anything I’ve ever done. Sweet that you wanted to protect your friend though. The most intense thing I’ve ever wrestled is a stuck jar lid, and even that felt like a near-death experience." She lifted her arm to show off the lack of muscle definition and how noodle-like it was.

Her gaze flicked toward Shiloh’s folded arms, then back up at his face. He looked so casual about the whole thing, like this was just another day in the life of Shiloh, Wolf Wrestler. Bonnie, on the other hand, was absolutely bursting with admiration."Okay, serious question," she said, tilting her head to the side. "Did you know how to fight a wolf, or did you just wing it? Because if there’s, like, some secret wolf-fighting technique, I feel like that’s something you should pass down. Preferably to me first." Despite her teasing tone, the awe in her voice was real. She could hardly believe she was sitting across from someone who had actually done something so fearless. Shiloh might not have been seeking attention, but he definitely had hers now.

Thomas had silently been listening to the whole conversation, grateful that Bonnie’s attention had moved on from him and his pretending not to care. Although, even he had to admit that Shiloh’s story was impressive. He let out a low whistle, and even gave a nod of respect. Avoid getting in fights with Shiloh. Got in.

He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as his arms rested on the table. “Word of advice dude? Next time someone’s giving you a hard time, maybe try leading with the fact that you wrestled a wolf and won. Would definitely have worked on me.”

He paused for a second, looking around not just their table but the dining hall in general. “Also…” he started, swinging his leg over the bench as he got off his seat and moved to the side of the table. “The stories are great and all, but I’d like to get some eating done before dinner’s over, yeah? Campers first. Come on up.”

Mack heard the chatter of the hall before it ever poked its facade through the thicket. The rest of the forest was quiet, yet not still, as though it waned under the weight of the secrets upon its winds, and tired with the blood that had sunk into the roots. If there was any.

Last she had heard, Paige was still technically missing. Renee too. Frankly, Mack hadn’t sought any updates since she’d been kicked out. Mulch and dirt and grass underfoot was still alien, almost, despite the fact she was accustomed to returning only once per year. It was simply different, even stowing her belongings in her cabin hadn’t provided the sense of equal parts contentment and anticipation of the weeks to come. Luckily, a bottom bunk was left for her despite the fact her return was barely confirmed, let alone communicated with most of the camp; Mack had no interest in engaging in the politics of dibs.

Her fingers itched to roll paper in them, like that had ever offered her clarity. Why would she ever come back? Mack rarely asked herself such questions, let alone found the answers, but Eva Twine’s request had left an excessive amount of time to ponder. Fuck that.

Each foot kept lazily marching on, in front of the other. The sounds of children complaining mixed with excited conversation, and in an abrupt movement breaking her relaxed strides, Mack ducked around a bend, to lean her back against a tree. She pressed her hand to her spine, and took long, sharp breaths, eyes clenched shut until the pang passed. Mack was grateful for the quiet, any philosophical discussion on how it had changed leaving her entirely.

Mack hugged the trees after that, her hand hovering beside her. Her steps were measured, careful to not send pain through her back again. Of course it had to be a bad fucking day. For all she knew, Eva was going to make her piss in a cup in front of the woman. At least alcohol was fine; Eva hadn’t explicitly mentioned it, which was a green light if Mack had ever seen one. She doesn’t drive much.

Finally, the Dining Hall sat in front of her. Memories threatened to bubble up as she stood just beyond its threshold, taking in the worn wood as though it were itself an old friend, and so naturally, she walked right in.

Nobody looked, immediately. It was normal for campers and counselors alike to come and go from the Dining Hall as needed. Sometimes an activity required setting up, or a stomach was to be emptied and the grass was a safer bet than a toilet bowl. Always worth a laugh, as long as it didn’t foreshadow a stomach bug spreading around camp.

What now? She’d have to find her table, and sit down. Mack hadn’t planned to announce her return per se, but now that she stood here, simply joining in like she’d always been there was obviously not going to work. But the other option of ‘Hey guys! I’m back!’ couldn’t sound more unappealing, and so the completely irrational choice was the correct one. She was about to turn to check table assignments, and then–

A camper jumped up–Brooke Gibson–a girl Mack had a soft spot for, from last year. Her parents were splitting, too. “Mack!” she yelled, colliding with Mack at record speed to wrap her lower body into a hug. Mack stiffened, but hugged the girl back, ruffling her hair and shooing her back to her seat.

Too late. The room quietened, though some chatter continued on. Eyes settled on her. It was obvious from their gazes that most, if not all, knew she’d been kicked out. And also that they had no clue she was coming back. Mack suppressed a laugh, but a smile spread onto her face. What a joy this was going to be.

“Hey.”

Liberty pauses mid-chewing. Did I hear that correctly? Convinced the campers might only be jesting, it wasn’t until a hushed silence fell across the room that the history buff drifted her gaze to the Hall’s entrance. Bleached blonde hair is all Liberty needed to glimpse to accept this was real. Her hand falls to Levi’s wrist as she rises from the chair, squeezing for a moment, with a smile of disbelief being cast around towards her tablemates.

She weaves through the tables and scattered campers to reach Mack, arms lifting to hover by her waist, palms upwards as if requesting an offered explanation. “I didn’t think—?” you were coming back—insinuated words as her arms easily wound around Mack’s arms, relief palpable in the brief but tight hold she contained on the swimmer.

As word reached the counsellors of Mack’s potential involvement—a side effect of camp rumours, however true they were—in the disappearance, Liberty staunchly remained unaccepting of it. Their mutual distaste for Renee seemed limitless, but she knew better than to believe Mack’s involvement extended further than the occasional push of drugs. A woman with chronic pain would hardly be capable of burying two bodies in the woods. Not without help. A request Liberty knew would’ve fallen to her.

She pulls away, hands rising to brace on the sides of Mack’s shoulders. “Eva let you…?” Frustrated with the sudden lack of her comprehension skills, Liberty cracks a frustrated half-smile, “you know I hate surprises, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

The silence quickly exploded into mutterings, much worse than the chatter she had heard on her approach. Broken by a lone voice yelling “Mack-Attack!”, which elicited a laugh and a roll of her eyes. Everyone had an opinion; Mack had always known herself as divisive, but never quite like this. Luckily, people she actually cared to see made themselves known, as campers began to create something of a swarm. Mack was not centre-of-attention material. At least, not anymore.

“Didn’t think so either. I’ll tell you all about it, but apparently Eva is a benevolent god,” she replied when Liberty pulled away, “And shouldn’t you know by now, I’m all about the thrill of a surprise.” Sarcasm bled from her tone, as Mack matched her friend’s sense of disbelief with a half smile. Some had thought the fact Mack was dealing drugs meant her involvement in Paige and Renee’s disappearance went deeper, like she was some mastermind whose empire was about to be disrupted. Or some shit like that, she assumed. She’d never chased the rumors that existed, about her or anyone else. Anything she learnt was a result of being told point blank, of which she usually diverted the conversation shortly after.

A blur of dark hair made her way towards the crowd of kids, nearly skipping through. Joey stalled, standing with her jaw open in dramatized fashion before—“Mack! You crazy bitch, I missed you!”

Thomas was halfway through serving the campers when the hall suddenly got quiet, as though some celebrity had just arrived. At first, he was ready to ignore it until he noticed a couple kids from the table get up and move quickly towards the door. “Hey! Where are you-” He went to reach after them but the bowl and ladle in his hand made it difficult to grab them.

With a heavy sigh, he looked up to at least see where they were going and saw a small crowd begin to gather around someone. He recognized her from last year’s camp; not somebody he had much interaction with but he remembered that there were some rumors about her, just like there were with him.

He had subconsciously kept track of the different campers that had rumors kick up concerning the Evergreens and, though he may not have known her personally, he was at least glad to see that she was back and that she hadn’t been kept away on the ground of a baseless rumor.

Unfortunately, seeing her and remembering the rumors about her also made him remember the rumors about himself, his mood souring immediately - evident by the click of his tongue even if the rest of his expression was neutral.

Mack noticed Joey streaming through the growing circle of children, who had gotten caught up in the excitement of something happening, rather than actually knowing what was going on. Though at the age they were, few wanted to be the odd one out, or the one who was missing out on the interesting happenings. “Joey! You think I’d let you have swimming all to yourself? Hell no!” Mack playfully elbowed her, laughing.

Her eyes scanned the crowd beyond, where many of the counsellors she knew shared furtive glances. Some confused, shocked, others outright glares of disapproval, yet all the same to Mack–unimportant. There was a comfort in the fact that some things at Evergreen would never change. Mack shook her head, as though not yet convinced she wasn’t dreaming. “Gonna be a long night, I think.” While her disruption might have been the spark, Mack could see the kindling beginning to light, and once again, her fingers itched for paper between them.


outfit:
location:
dining hall

 
table three

dinner group post
R
owan had left the Amphitheatre shortly after Harper’s attention was stolen away, barely listening to the conversation between her and the new counselor that Leon seemed already far too attached to. Instead, he’d found himself staring at the wall of photos until he had to step away, dipping out without announcing it to anyone. He’d just needed some space before being around people for the rest of the night, and didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions.

Perhaps another year, he would have stuck around and gone through more of the costumes with Ricky or seen what else his friend wanted to do to kill time, but going through their old memories seemed more depressing now than just nostalgia. Or he would have gone to see if Riley wanted some help with her survivalist class, but he just didn’t have it in him today. Coming back to camp hadn’t quite been what he’d wanted, but maybe the camaraderie of truth or dare would help. Yeah, right…

Rowan spent the time until dinner taking a walk through the woods, with a stop by his cabin to freshen up before heading to the dining hall. As his feet carried him through the doors and to the cork board, Rowan pleaded for a better table tonight – nothing could really be worse than sitting with Lou. But as he read the names off, he couldn’t hide his irritation at the sight of Ezzy’s name.

Great, he thought as he turned and looked over the crowd of mostly rowdy kids to find his table, catching sight of Riley sitting with Hugo at one of the other tables. Lucky, he thought, knowing that Riley always looked forward to seeing Hugo and not minding the groundskeeper himself – Rowan would prefer to sit with them. His eyes landed on Ezzy sitting at their table talking to the new farming counselor, Billie, and sighed. Is it too late to skip now?

Overheated from the weight of the large costume on his lap, and irritated because of Alton, Levi was just about to excuse himself—gonna go dump this thing at the cabin and catch my breath—when he caught sight of Rowan stepping into the Dining Hall. A sigh of relief slipped out before he could stop it, finally. Thank god.

With a few parting words and a promise to be back, the band geek pushed himself up, thankful to see his friend. But as he got closer, his steps slowed. Rowan looked tired—defeated. Some day we’re having.

Levi ran a hand through his shaggy hair, biting the inside of his cheek as he closed the distance. “Hey, Rowan—” He reached out instinctively to clasp a hand on his friend’s shoulder but hesitated at the last second. He needs space. Instead, his arm dropped to his side before shooting the other back out—offering up the oversized, tacky orange-and-brown costume like a peace offering.

“It isn’t pink, like I promised.”

Rowan turned, catching Levi’s movement out of the corner of his eye as he approached and watched his friend’s awkward approach with a twisted feeling in his gut – Levi’s grief about Lisa likely mirrored his own, yet he wasn’t moping around camp like it would fix something. Rowan straightened up at his friend’s hesitation to touch him and reached out for the offered fabric, holding it up and scrutinizing it with a furrowed brow. Well, it certainly wasn’t pink.

“Thanks…” Rowan said hesitantly as he shook out the fabric and scrutinized it, noticing a tail attached to the butt of the costume. He inspected it, curious as to what it even was. Until he flopped the hood towards himself and almost laughed at the recognition – the flat features of Scooby Doo were staring back at him.

It could be worse, he supposed, recalling the green crayon onesie that Riley had convinced him to wear in solidarity in an earlier year. He’d somehow lost the little hat that completed the costume before truth or dare and spent the night looking like a dull crayon.

“Scooby Doo, huh? Well… Looks comfortable,” he said, slinging the costume over his arm and offering Levi a small, grateful smile. “Appreciate it, man.”

The telling squint didn’t go unnoticed. Levi could feel Rowan’s gaze inspecting him, Yeah, yeah, I get it. With a quiet sigh, he let his own shoulders sag slightly—no need to pretend. We’re all still beat up about today.

“Don’t mention it.” He brushed off the thanks with a lazy wave of his hand, but his mind was already elsewhere, drifting back to the mess that had been the end of their shopping trip. Meeting Nicolas, fighting over a damn jacket, Paige’s necklace—how do I even bring that up?

“Yeah...it isn’t much, but the thrift shop, Willamina, was under renovation.” Levi rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he had picked up from Leon. Realizing it, he scowled at himself—seriously?—before shoving his hand into his pocket instead, now free of the oversized costume.

“You’ll pull it off. Plus, it’s supposedly gonna be fucking cold tonight.” His laugh was tight, mostly air, before he cleared his throat. Why is this awkward? But he knew why, Paige’s damn necklace, the one Rowan had got for her. His gaze flickered to him—the resident hothead, already worn out from the day. Yeah, this wasn’t the time or place.

So instead, Levi exhaled, shaking the thought away. “Which table?”

Cold? It’s fucking summer,”
Rowan rolled his eyes and offered a laugh in return, but he couldn’t help feeling the awkward energy coming off of Levi. He hadn’t meant to seem ungrateful – he wasn’t keen on wearing the angel costume he’d found perusing the costume trunks, and at least the onesie was a comfort-focused costume. He hadn’t wanted anything above low effort anyways, so they were lucky he wasn’t just showing up in his regular clothes. Hell, they were lucky he’d been convinced to go at all.

Rolling his eyes—though without any real malice—Levi let himself settle into the conversation, pushing past the initial awkwardness. It’s just Rowan. No need to overthink it. “So? Ever heard of desert weather at night?” he quipped, shaking his head as a wry grin tugged at his lips.

Rowan’s laugh mingled with his own, the tension loosening just a little. “Shit is no joke,” He added, his tone light but entirely serious. I wouldn’t risk it.

Which table? Rowan glanced back towards the corkboard to look at the names again and shrugged, tapping the paper as he read off the names. “Table three – Ezzy, Annie… some chick named Billie… Did you know Liv Twine was coming back?” Rowan didn’t know her well enough to talk to her outside of camp or what she’d really gotten up to after leaving – she’d come and gone some over the years but, like her brother, had disappeared a while ago. He was surprised to see her back after everything that was happening, but he wasn’t as privy to the secret inner workings of camp after… well, since this year.

Following the movement, Levi turned his head, glancing at the board once more. His eyes trailed down to where Rowan’s table was listed, nodding absentmindedly as listened to him reading off names. Wonder how Ezzy is handling all of this—Wait. Twine?

Jerking back a step, he let out a sharp breath, something between a strained laugh and a sigh of disbelief. “Twine? As in Shiloh Twine, too?” Pleased with the new information about possibly reuniting with an old friend, he shook his head while pinching between his brow. “Fuck, it’s been years. I gotta tell Le—uh.” The excitement drained from his face in an instant as dark eyes flickered towards table four, catching on a familiar head of hair.

I should tell him. But he probably already knows…and he hasn’t said anything? His lips curled in something unimpressed—annoyed. Figures.

Shaking it off, he straightened and shot Rowan a nod. “Good luck with your table. I’ll stop by later to snap a shot of you in your costume—won’t let you live that down.” A smirk tugged at his lips before turning on his heel, making his way back to his seat.

“Uh… yeah, probably,” Rowan said as he turned back towards Levi, watching his mixed reaction to the information. He remembered Shiloh, remembered the three of them being inseparable back in the day. Hell, Shiloh was in part the reason why Rowan was friends with them in the first place. He never understood why he’d just disappeared out of thin air one day.

He shook his head, smirking at Levi’s promise to take a picture of him. It had probably been his plot all along to get Rowan into something embarrassing for the photo op, but he supposed he’d allow it. After all, Lisa would have gotten a kick out of forcing him into the onesie – hell, she would have been first in line to buy it. Maybe if they found her, Rowan would even let her keep the photo.

“Looking forward to it!” Rowan called to Levi’s retreating figure before sighing deeply and cutting through the dining hall to his table.



The ease that the rest of the late afternoon carried was hardly enough to cancel out the discomfort that the shopping group’s encounter with Dakota had already tainted the day with. Annalise had intended to tell Shiloh about her suspicions at the earliest convenience, seeing as he had ties to the local law enforcement, but the ‘earliest’ was looking a lot later than she’d hoped with how elusive he’d been. The blonde had resorted to leaving his costume, tucked away inside the folded, paper bag, on his bed after asking around for his bunking arrangements, and the rest of her free time had been spent on needlessly pampering herself—painting her toenails, re-straightening her hair, organizing her makeup bag—for lack of better things to do.

Annie wasn’t particularly hungry by the time their evening meal rolled around, but she trailed to the Dining Hall, along with the rest of camp, as was expected of her. The sight of a familiar figure lingering outside of the door, though, stopped the woman in her tracks.

Liv looked like she’d seen a ghost, nervous energy radiating off of her in droves. It was as if no one within Evergreen’s boundaries was safe from the overwhelming negativity anymore.

“Hey,” Annalise started, veering from her initial course. “Are you okay?”

At the sound of someone else’s voice, Liv startled. She’d been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice Annie until she was right in front of her. Jesus Christ, how embarrassing could she get? It was her first day at camp in years, and the only thing consuming her thoughts was her ex-boyfriend.

Wipe your tears with those goddamn degrees since you seem to think—

She bit the inside of her cheek to distract from her thoughts as she schooled her face into something passable, more gracious. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said. It came out normal enough; maybe not perfect, but her voice didn’t shake. “Don’t let me stop you from getting to dinner. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Yeah, of course.”
Annalise offered a small smile of assurance, blue eyes studying Liv. The woman’s dismissal was too quick and deflective to be truthful, but the blonde didn’t press. It wasn’t her place. “If you need anything…” Annie didn’t bother to finish the sentiment—does anyone ever mean it, or is there always an undertone of ‘anything within reason, so long as I’m not busy that day’? It was the gesture that counted, she supposed—the implication that she could be confided in—but she didn’t dare overstay her welcome with someone who so clearly wanted nothing more than to be left alone with her thoughts.

Liv watched her go, deflating against the wall once Annie was gone. If she was going to keep freaking out, she’d need to go somewhere more private.

After brushing off his strange and, quite frankly uncomfortable run-in with one Thomas Mode, Shiloh was more than ready to get the rest of the day over with. It was bad enough that Shiloh had felt completely rubbed the wrong way by Tarzan, but sharing a cabin with him?

Levi and Leon are lucky their stuff is in that cabin, can’t believe I’m going to have to put up with more of the shirtless prick…

With a physical shake of his head, he exited the cabin. He was trying to be better about not carrying bad moods and opinions with him throughout the day; a bit of advice Liv had given him during one of her New York visits. Something about how it was better if he wrote down his frustrations and let them live in the journal, instead of letting them sour the rest of his day.

At the time he thought it was silly, but he soon learned it was great advice. He may not have been writing everything down, but he always made a mental note to at least try to leave any negative feelings behind when he went to a new part of his day.

The small sentiment brought even more appreciation towards Liv, as if he didn’t have an overflowing amount already. His sister was truly his best friend, and having stuck around with him for as long as she had, he couldn’t imagine ever going through life without her. He could only hope she felt the same sentiment towards him; he knew he could never be as good a sibling as she was, but he certainly tried.

The young agent neared the dining hall, jogging up the steps as he tried to weave through the steady stream of campers and spotted an all-too-familiar counselor leaned against the wall. A smile initially grew on his face as he walked towards his sister, but that face quickly hardened as he took in her pained expression.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Shiloh immediately asked, placing a comforting hand on Liv’s arm.

Almost as soon as she’d thought about moving, Shiloh appeared. Oh, thank God. If anybody was going to be the next to stumble upon her, at least it was somebody she actually wanted to see. Right now, Shiloh was just about the only person on that list.

When he reached out to touch her, she leaned into his palm. “Nothing, I’m okay,” she replied. “It’s stupid. I just saw Nic, that’s all.”

Shiloh’s eyes immediately flicked in through the window she was hiding from, immediately locking onto him. His eyes narrowed, as if he could magically shoot daggers at Nic through the window and avoid the campers in the vicinity. Shiloh had no earthly idea why Nic and his sister broke up, but there was an obvious answer to whose “side” he was on.

He soon returned his attention to his sister, gaze softening once more as concern became his main emotion, “What can I do? Want me to go in there and deck him? I could totally just walk in there and knock his lights out,” he paused for a moment to look back at Nic, “I want to punch him,” his tone was flat, almost comically so, as his dark brown eyes returned to his sisters, fighting a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Despite her frayed nerves, she smiled. “You can’t just walk in there and punch him,” she said. “It’s our first day, and you’re here working with the local police. If you get tossed out on your first day, Mom’ll have a field day with us.”

She sighed. Her mother was not something she needed to pile on top of this right now. Then again, it was impossible to think about her and Nic’s break-up for too long without the woman twisting her way back into Liv’s head.

—somebody who can’t make a single decision for herself without wondering what her mommy will think—

“Besides, it was— he doesn’t deserve to be punched in the face,” she added. “We both had… reasons to be upset with each other. He’s not, like, the devil.”

Shiloh fought every fiber in his being to not roll his eyes at the mention of their mother. This wasn’t about him and his mommy issues, this was about Liv. “Okay fine, I guess I won’t go in there and punch him,” He gave her a goofy grin, one that was reserved for his little sister and no one else. His eyes flicked back to Nic one last time before giving Liv’s arm another squeeze.

“Also, I reserve the right to think whatever I want about him. And whoever causes this much upset in my sister,” his eyebrows furrowed together in concern for a split second before fully furrowing in frustration, “Is a bastard in my book.”

“You’d hate him no matter what,”
she replied, lips twisting to mirror her brother’s smile. “I could tell you he broke up with me because I crashed his car into a tree and lit his house on fire, and you’d still find a way to tell me it was his fault.”

“Well yeah because what bastard breaks up with someone for an accident?”
his tone was clearly joking, glad to see the smile on his sister’s face. Glad to see I can cheer her up like she cheers me up. Shiloh moved his arm to Liv’s back and pulled her into a hug.

Liv leaned into the hug, grateful. She’d meant what she said over spring break, three years ago; Shiloh wasn’t just her brother, but her best friend— the other half of her, really. She sighed into his collarbone, letting her head fall against his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t be an accident,” she muttered into his shirt.

He knew she never wanted to talk about what really happened between the two of them, and as much as it pained him from the perspective of wanting to help her and protect her, he wholeheartedly respected her privacy. Whenever she was ready, she would tell him. After holding her for a moment, the older Twine sibling gave Liv a squeeze before releasing her, “You don’t let that joke see that he’s upsetting you this much. He doesn’t deserve that satisfaction, alright?” He took a half step back, glancing at how the stream of campers into the dining hall had trickled down before looking back at his sister, “Walk in together?”

She grinned. “Of course. Where you go, I go.”

With her brother beside her, Liv swallowed down the last of her anxiety and stepped inside the dining hall. When it was this lively inside, it didn’t matter that she hadn’t been here in years; Evergreen felt the same as it always did. Almost.



Feeling refreshed, Billie watched in amusement as the kids from farming took off sprinting towards the Dining Hall. She followed at a more leisurely pace behind Ramona, inwardly snorting at their eagerness. When Ramona stopped at a board, the other hesitated, tilting her head before zeroing in on her name at a specific table, I don’t know anyone. She pulled a face—You don’t know anyone yet, dingus.
She was met with a Good Luck from Ramona, a hushed laugh following in tow before she slipped away towards her assigned seating, surely. The newcomer flicked her gaze nervously back towards the chart once more, who could she be referring to? Fuck.

A puzzled expression painted across her face as she made her way towards Table Three. It was already crowded with campers—no counselor in sight. “Uh, hi!” She gave a jerky wave before fumbling into a seat, suddenly at a loss for words. Shit, what do I do?

“I remember you.”

Billie turned towards the voice, spotting a familiar blonde camper. A flicker of recognition lit up in her eyes. “Well, I sure hope so. It’s only been—” she glanced at her wristwatch, then quipped, “an hour and a half. You saying I have a forgettable face?” She pulled an exaggerated frown, lips pursed, before smoothing out into a grin.

The girl didn’t look amused. Instead, she clattered her utensils onto the table with a noisy clank, drawing the attention of nearby campers. “How come we don’t get to cook?” she huffed, irritation seeping into her voice.

Lifting her brow, the brunette watched the girl rile up some of the others. Oh boy. “Would make a better activity,” someone else muttered. “Beats playing with dirt.”

Oof, tough crowd. Billie clutched her chest in offense, wincing dramatically. Lame. Believe me—being in the kitchen is not the way to go.” She made a slicing motion with her hands, crossing them like an X.

“My mom said that once,” another camper chimed in. Resting more heavily into her palm, she couldn’t help but think, how do I go about this? “Uhh…besides, isn’t it more fun hanging out with your friends instead?” A few murmurs rippled across the table. The blonde camper hesitated before shrugging, reluctant but not outright disagreeing—she took that as a win in her book. Score.

Bright eyes flickered to the side, the seating chart taped to the table. “Where is everyone else, anyway?” She frowned, scanning the list, anxiously. “They’re um, missing out from an awesome discussion.”

Ezzy was incredibly hungry. He hadn't realized until he smelled the faint smell of spaghetti drifting from the kitchen. His eyes passed over the seating chart, narrowing in on his name and skipping past everything else in his haste to sit down.

The conversation at table three came into focus as he approached, the back of Billie's head instantly recognizable. A twinge of unease washed over Ezzy, but back in the amphitheater, it hadn't gone over that badly, right? At least there were campers around. Awkward moments didn't last long when a bunch of teenagers were always ready to fill the silence with inane questions. Ezzy would be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit glad to see Billie as well, despite everything.

“If you want to work in the kitchen you'll have to do all the dishes too, you know. It’s not just cooking,” Ezzy commented helpfully, providing reinforcements as he took his seat. Counsellors had to stick together. He turned his attention to Billie, offering a small smile and pushing the campers out of sight and mind for a moment.

“Long time no see, huh? How have you been? We haven't really talked in—” Ezzy had to take a moment to do the mental math, the result surprising. “Geez, a few months.” He wasn't sure if he was making things more or less awkward by mentioning it. Too late to go back now, though.

The farmer let out a quiet sigh of relief at the familiar voice, lifting her gaze just in time to see Ezzy taking his seat. Thank you, she mouthed, shifting her weight from one elbow to the next before tilting her head, leveling him with a scrutinizing look.

She raised a hand to cover her mouth from the campers, lowering her voice. “Seriously saved me there. Good point on the dishes—” Dropping her hand, she pulled a face and let out a dramatic yuck sound, drawing a few giggles from the kids before turning back to him.

How have you been? A small smile softened her expression, tinged with something close to pity. “Yeah, it’s been six months…but! I’m doing pretty good, finally got my own place. Enough about me, though, you look like you’re taking care of yourself!” The words were genuine, even if the lingering awkwardness between them remained. Billie meant it—hoped he really was doing okay. With everything she knew about his brother, about Ricky being around…it probably wasn’t easy.

Some part of Ezzy rebuked at the way Billie's tone edged on pity. It was a normal reaction to reconnecting with an ex, and it would've been a little odd if he hadn't noticed some pulse of discomfort around Billie, but Ezzy was pleasantly surprised to find that whatever he felt, it was only a faint echo of the kinds of feelings he had when he spoke to his other ex's (cough, Ricky). It was easy to brush aside and much easier to move on from. Hearing that she no longer lived in her car was a massive relief.

"Fuck yeah," he said approvingly with a smile. The campers knew he swore, despite his efforts not to. It’d be fine.

At the curse, Billie gasped dramatically, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as her wide eyes flickered to the side, gauging the reactions of those around her. But to her surprise, no one seemed fazed. They carried on with their conversation, unbothered, completely disinterested. “Huh, how about that.” She dropped her hand, amusement flickering across her face.

"I'm doing alright," he answered with a good natured shrug. He was, for the most part. As alright as someone in his situation could be. He averted his gaze down to his hands for a moment, picking at his nails out of habit. "I'm holding up."

Turning her attention back to Ezzy, she caught the subtle shrug before their gazes met. Leaning into her palm, her other hand idly toyed with the frayed edges of a rip in jeans, twisting the loose thread between her fingers. “I’m glad to hear that—scout’s honor.” She lifted her fingers in a salute, or at least what she thought was the right gesture, before breaking into a wide grin. “Not that I’d know. Never been a scout in my life.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before shifting gears, tone light. “Did you find a costu— I mean, an outfit for…tomorrow morning?” Billie’s eyes flicked towards the campers before settling back on Ezzy, hoping he’d catch on. Truth or dare is supposed to be a secret, right?

"I do have my..." Ezzy paused for dramatic effect, matching the lighter gear change. "Outfit for tomorrow, yeah. It's a little lame though, I'm going as the same thing as last year." He opened his mouth to name the character he was going to be dressed as but shut it at the last moment and glanced over at the campers as well, not wanting that to give it away. "Did you find yours?" he asked instead.

At the mention of costumes, her interest visibly piqued. She perked up, shifting in her seat as both hands landed on the table, fingers tapping eagerly against the surface. “Oh, a repeat? Exciting. Can’t wait to see.”

“It’s really nothing special,”
Ezzy said with a small laugh. Brown pants and a green shirt was hardly a costume, but it worked.

“You? Doing something lackluster? Come on.” With a quick flick of her hand, she brushed her hair over her shoulder and gave a knowing nod. “But yup, sure did! Something Leon helped with at the amphitheater. Hoping for some good, um… scares.”

Ezzy’s interest was caught for a moment on the mention of Leon. Their interaction in the amphitheater had been… Not odd, or strange, but it suggested something else was going on. Ezzy debated asking, curiosity flickering across his face, but he dismissed it.

Things were going well with Billie so far. He didn’t want to throw a wrench in anything. Sparing a glance at the campers, he figured now wasn’t the best time to bring up anything right then anyway. Besides, it was only the second day. They’d have time to talk more later.

"That’s ominous but you know what?" Ezzy said with a smile. “I’m ready for it."

A camper leaned over, one of the more nosy ones that tended to be heavily involved in most camper drama that cropped up, Ezzy noted. Apparently she was trying to get involved in the counsellor drama too.

"How do you know Billie?" she asked, glancing back and forth between them.

"I uh—" Ezzy's expression took on a loading symbol quality for a moment. Damn. Guess it's that obvious there's history. He shrugged. “We used to date."

"Ooooh,"
the camper said in the singsongy way teenagers did whenever anyone mentioned the word “dating” or “crushes.” At least now most of the campers weren’t trashing the farm activities, Ezzy reasoned, trying to find the tinfoil lining as other campers’ gazes flickered towards them too. “Are you dating now?”

"Wouldn't you like to know weather boy,”
Ezzy teased to keep the mood light, glancing over at Billie, unsure how she wanted to handle things. Maybe he should have just said no instead of being vague. God, he hoped she didn’t think that he thinks they’re still together. No… That would be a wild conclusion to jump to. It was just a joke. Billie will know that.

Knowing the kids were just being kids, Billie couldn’t help but huff out a small snort—more air than sound—as she leaned forward in her seat, hands tucked beneath her chin. Gossip spread fast, and while it was usually harmless, she didn’t exactly want this little rumor reaching a certain supervisor.

With a grin, she gave Ezzy an easy out, deciding to throw him a bone—though, admittedly, watching him flub his words had been mildly entertaining. “He’s right, we used to date,” she said with a shrug. “But we’re still friends. Not all relationships end badly—a good lesson.”

She almost left it at that. Almost. “Unless—” Aw, fuck. Unless they’re a really big meanie. Then huge no-no.” She cleared her throat, backpedaling. “Actually—don’t date. You guys are too young. Play with sticks instead.”

Ezzy let out his own snort-laugh.

"I second that, big meanies are not the vibe," he confirmed with a very serious nod. "Bad ex's are not as interesting as they make it seem in the movies."

"Lame,"
the camper said, once she realized that there was nothing juicy or dramatic about the two counselors. She rolled her eyes as if to emphasize her disappointment. Part of Ezzy wondered what the camper would say if she really knew exactly how much drama was going on behind the scenes. Her head might just implode. It was better not to clue them in on all that.

“That sounds super lame,” Annalise said, announcing her presence as she all but materialized at Billie’s shoulder. “Also like a good way to poke someone’s eye out.” The blonde frowned thoughtfully as she lowered herself onto the vacant seat beside the farmer. “But, hey, what do I know? I’m just a substitute.” She shrugged, evidently bored with the topic as she averted her gaze to the man in their midst. “Hi, Ezzy! I didn’t know you were back this year.”

Surprisingly, Billie wasn’t startled by the new voice joining the conversation. Instead, she turned her head with ease, her gaze landing on the honey blonde woman from this morning. Annie, right? She was fun.

A pleased expression overtook her face, warm and genuine. Shifting slightly, she made room without hesitation, taking note of her summer role for camp. With a kind smile, she lifted a hand in a casual wave, acknowledging Annie’s presence as she tuned back into the conversation, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"Back with a vengeance," he confirmed with another nod. It hadn't looked like he would be for a while, Eva humming and hawing about it for so long, but he had managed to force his way in and he wasn't going anywhere. "There are werewolves to catch." Ezzy said it with a straight face, though it wasn't clear whether he was joking or not. With Ezzy you really never knew. He didn't care to elaborate, continuing on as if he had simply mentioned that it was going to rain this afternoon.

Annie’s smile faltered, her right eye twitching imperceptibly. She liked to think that she was relatively good at reading people, but she’d forgotten how much of a puzzle Ezekiel posed for her—his jokes sounded an awful lot like the truth at times. “Right,” she finally managed, that one word punctuated by an awkward laugh.

"Didn't know you'd be here either. I really should have read the information package before camp started," he said half to himself. It would have been the smart move, but being prepared was not one of his strong suits.

Waving her hand dismissively, Annalise was quick to brush Ezzy’s comment off. “Don’t worry,” she said, “no one ever reads that.” The blonde had when the newness of her summer job had left her with an excitement and eagerness to please, but each year, that had dwindled along with how much attention she chose to give the camp’s preliminary pack, until she came to the conclusion that being pleasantly surprised was far more fun than being prepared.

Eager to jump into the conversation, Billie leaned her elbows on the table—bad manners, sure, but whatever. We’re at camp, it’s nothing. She propped her chin on her knuckles, her gaze flickering between the two other counselors as their little group grew bit by bit.

Werewolves again? It wasn’t the first time she’d heard about the forest, his brother, the faint howling in the dead of night. Should I ask him about it later? Hard to tell if he was ever being serious.

Her brows knit together at something he said, confusion flickering across her face. “There’s an information package before camp?” She let out a short, incredulous laugh, mentally scratching her head. “Uh, shit, am I missing out?”

Annie’s head swiveled toward Billie, irritation flashing briefly in her pale eyes. Hello? I just said no one ever reads it. “Not really!” the blonde assured, feeling every bit the broken record she was sure that she sounded. “I mean, I guess if you’re into that sort of thing…” Though, Billie didn’t exactly strike her as someone that was.

“Annie’s right, no one reads that thing,” Ezzy jumped in reassuringly, hoping to smooth over what felt like the stirrings of tension. There was enough to be tense about as it was. He offered Billie a good natured smile. “If we’re missing out on something, we’re missing out together.” He paused, giving it a moment's thought. “Maybe we should elect one person to read it each year and then share with the class. Like a tribute, you know?”

Liv took that moment to slide into an empty seat around the rest of the counselors. It seemed like the safest option— whereas she only knew some of the oldest campers at Evergreen, Annie and Ezzy were still familiar faces to her. The tail end of their conversation, however, perplexed her. “What are we reading?”

Rowan crossed the dining hall to the table, now populated by most of the counselors (and campers) for dinner, arriving just as Liv did. He grabbed the first empty seat near the others and tossed the Scooby Doo costume over the back of his chair. What are we reading? Were they talking about books? Boring.

Rowan glanced over at a nearby camper he recognized, a third year camper who went all out during sports, and they shared a look – really? “Unless there’s pictures, count me out. I swear off reading for the summer.”

“The camp’s information package is, like, 90% pictures,”
Annalise assured, eyes rolling. Again, it doesn’t matter because everyone throws it in the trash before they even open it.” Eager to change the subject—one which had well-overstayed its welcome—the blonde nodded at the costume sprawled over the back of Rowan’s seat. “Is that a onesie?”

Oh, the information package – even more boring than books. Rowan might have intently read it once his first year as counselor, but since then, he gave it a cursory glance on occasion. The pictures were the best part. He shrugged at Annie’s question and leaned back in his seat. “It’s my costume – see,” he flipped the hood up in Annie’s direction, displaying Scooby’s cartoon face. “ – went a little more low effort this year. No effort, really. Levi picked it out.”

Blissfully unaware of Annie’s small irritation, Billie wordlessly caught Ezzy’s reassuring smile from across the table. The farmer arched a brow of her own, but her smile remained unwavering.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to respond, two figures approached, sliding into the remaining seats at their table. She welcomed the change in pace, straightening slightly as her attention moved to them. What are we reading? “Apparently nothing,” she quipped, lips curling in amusement.

With a much quieter, tamed laugh, she gestured towards Rowan, nodding in agreement with his remark about swearing off books for the summer. “This guy gets it, though.”

She shifted in her seat, glancing down at her wristwatch. It was getting late. When were they supposed to start eating? Before the thought could settle, a sweet scent drifted through the air, drawing her gaze. A blonde woman approached their table with a tray in hand, her movements brisk. Finally, oh my god. “Oh! Thank y—!”

Before the newcomer could finish, the tray landed on the table, and the woman was already gone. Billie blinked, brows lifting as she tossed a thumb in the direction the server had vanished. “And she’s gone, wowza.”

Perking up at the sight of food, she instinctively made the move to stand, reaching for her plate. Then she hesitated—shit, is that rude? Should I wait? God, what the fuck are we supposed to do?

A quiet, uncertain moment passed before her sympathy kicked in. If she wasn’t sure, then surely the younger campers weren’t either. Making a quick decision, she gestured for the camper beside her to pass their plate, taking it gently before scooping a serving onto it. “That’s…what we’re supposed to do, right?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she glanced around the table.

No clue what I’m doing, but at least I’m trying.

Annalise was grateful that Juliette hadn’t lingered any longer than necessary after slamming their dinner portion onto the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered to Billie at her question, then down at the plate of spaghetti in the brunette’s hand. It may not have been the most efficient way of serving the kids, but it wasn’t a horrible idea. Annie straightened in her seat, clapping her hands to collect the campers’ attention. “Everyone, pass your plates this way for food,” she said, swinging her index finger in a clockwise motion.

Getting nothing but a wordless response, Billie watched as Annie took control of the situation. Mild relief settled in—at least she didn’t have to flounder any longer—but she was suddenly too aware of the awkwardness hanging between her and the… what did she say she was again? A substitute?

Biting the inside of her lower lip, she nodded along, casually alternating between topping plates with spaghetti and handing them off to the other counselor to fill. She exhaled through her nose—a small huff of air that barely made a sound.

She wasn’t dumb. She could read a room, even when she pretended not to. Tough table. Tough fucking day. But she reminded herself, sternly—someone is missing, after all. “Thanks for the hand.”

Annalise shrugged dismissively as she shoveled spaghetti onto a camper’s plate. “It’s what I’m here for,” she clarified. Picking up everyone else’s slack. The blonde extended the loaded dish for someone to take—the other counselors had joined in by now, making Annie’s efforts more effective, but when she glanced down the row of kids, the amount of empty plates still staring back at her elicited a sigh.

Right, food— the routine was familiar, but not instinctual. For a moment, Liv had forgotten any of them were actually here to eat. It wasn’t until the tray actually made it to their table that she remembered, passed along by a girl who seemed far too irritated to stay and chat. Was she just like that, Liv wondered, or having a bad day? Quis starting to unravel in the med-bay earlier had left her concerned: not just for him, but for the staff as a whole.

Then again, it’s not like Liv knew this girl at all, so she didn’t have a baseline to work from. Besides, it was time to eat. She could read into the behavior of other counselors tonight, when they were all three beers in and getting ready to start picking at each other.

As Annie spoke, she reached down the table to grab plates and bridge the distance between Billie and the kids. Her stomach started to twinge as she watched spaghetti get passed around the table; she’d been too caught up with her own day to realize she was hungry.

After Juliette’s drive-by with their dinner, Rowan watched her as she rushed off. Is she mad? He was reminded of the totem that he found and the weird… dream? he’d had. He briefly entertained whether he should bring it up to Juliette or not, but shrugged off the thought as the other counselors started bustling about serving the campers. It’s not like it meant anything – Juliette would probably think he was really losing it if he told her about it. Maybe he’d just offer her his help instead.

As the others filled up the camper’s plates assembly line style, Rowan made sure each of the campers received a portion, handing out the dished up plates to eager campers, ravenous after their long day of activities. As he started to actually smell the spaghetti in the pot, his stomach groaned in protest as he realized that he’d skipped lunch and barely picked at his breakfast. He took his plate from Billie as she finished dishing up the final couple of plates and sat down, inspecting the food.

Meatless spaghetti wouldn’t have been his stomach’s first choice, but hey, it would be something. If he was planning on drinking at all tonight, he should probably have something on his stomach. And what other reason would he have in going? He stabbed his fork into the noodles and twirled them into a bite, fully engrossed in his plate for a few moments before turning his attention back to the table. He nodded in Liv’s direction, careful not to speak with his mouth too full, and asked the prodigal counselor, “So, how was your first day back?”

“Yeah,”
Annalise chimed in, attention at last shifting wholly to Liv. She’d given her grace before, considering how shaken she’d appeared outside, but now that the chance to pry—even a little—had presented itself, she wasn’t going to let it pass by. “You and Shiloh totally pulled off the ‘surprise entrance’ thing, by the way. It’s nice to have you guys here again.” As she spoke, the blonde sliced through her pile of spaghetti, chopping it into bite-size proportions. She’d never been a fan of twirling the noodles as most did—it was far too risky, and she liked the top she was wearing as it was: clean.

Liv was two bites in when Rowan and Annie set their sights on her. Under their attention, she paused with spaghetti half-twirled around the fork she was holding. Her day had been interesting, to say the least, but none of it needed to be picked apart over dinner with people she hadn’t seen in years. Better to keep things light.

“I’m glad to be back,” she said, placing one elbow on the table to lean towards Annie— not the most proper dinner etiquette, but it was summer camp, who was judging? “But I wasn’t planning to catch as many people off-guard as I did. Honestly, I had expected it to get around camp to a few people, at least. I’m surprised not even Leon seemed to have any idea. But it’s nice to see everyone again after so long.”

Annalise hummed in understanding, mouth too full of noodles for much else. Surprisingly, the spaghetti they’d been served so abrasively wasn’t bad, despite what Juliette’s eagerness to leave might’ve implied—in fact, it was good enough that the blonde was willing to ignore the possibility of being poisoned by the pair of venomous snakes that had prepared it.

When Annie at last swallowed, she punctuated it with a nod. “That makes sense, actually,” she started. “Leon’s been busy with his new job. Renee left some pretty big shoes for him to fill, but it’s just as well. We needed some good news around here, and what’s better than seeing old friends again?” The woman’s expression brightened fondly, smile widening to match Liv’s.

She threw the other girl one last smile before turning to face Rowan. “It was a good first day! Put some things away in my cabin, got my stuff set-up in the med-bay, and made it to dinner without being too late. Plus, for camp spaghetti, this is really good. Definitely improving my day.”

Silently eating her meal while half listening to the idle conversations happening around her, Billie couldn’t help but catch Rowan inspecting his food a little too closely. She had an inkling of what that was about.

Appreciating the fact that the camp actually stood by its rules, she still couldn’t help but think intrusively, don’t let them know you’re the boring vegetarian at the table.

But, ah, screw it. Throwing caution to the wind, the newcomer experimentally ran her fork along her plate, “wow, meatless?” She quirked a brow, pretending to only now notice. “Didn’t expect that from this camp, or…maybe it’s a rich people thing.” She shrugged, casually twirling her fork before taking another bite. “Looks yummy, though. Can’t deny that.”

Rowan snorted at Billie’s rich people comment and shook his head. “They try to make a lot of it from what we grow here or what fish we can catch during boating… kinda hard to grow ground beef, I guess,” he shrugged and took another bite of his spaghetti, his stomach thanking him for finally filling it, and his mood so far had certainly been an improvement on the rest of the day. The spaghetti was even pretty good, all things considered.

Kinda hard to grow ground beef, I guess. With an uneasy laugh, Billie bit back with a quip of her own, head swimming with the knowledge of the chicken coop back at the farming area. “Yeah… good thing the chickens are safe, right?”

“Right,”
Rowan replied, surprised that he hadn’t remembered . “Honestly, I forgot about those little demons. Haven’t been to the farm in a hot minute.” He didn’t elaborate, but he’d been there at least once a day when Lisa was here and they were on good terms. Between the tension with his best friend last year, and Lou working there this year, he didn’t see himself stepping foot on it unless there was a dire need. Plus, the chickens really were evil incarnate.

With her fork still in hand, the newcomer gestured towards the other woman at the table—apart from her and Annie—mentally flipping through the seating chart she’d glanced at earlier. “You must be Olivia, right?” she asked, tilting her head, a warm smile effortlessly finding its way onto her face. “What’s your job? Also, I’m Billie.”

Liv smiled, even if the use of her full name caught her a bit off-guard. After going by a nickname with almost exclusive frequency, it could be jarring.

“That’s me, but you can just call me Liv,” she said. “I’m here as a therapist for the summer, but I used to come a lot when I was younger. Is this your first year?”

“Liv,”
The farmer repeated, nodding along. Wow, therapist—some schooling. Impressive.” She leaned back in her seat, fingers drumming idly against her lap beneath the table. She wondered, briefly, what kind of patience that required.

Is this your first year? “Yeah, first year—first time for everything, they always say, right?” The words came with a softer smile this time, one that didn’t feel forced. Billie glanced down at her plate before reaching for her cup, letting the cool water smooth over the lingering nerves in her throat.

Pfft, therapist? Rowan thought incredulously. They’d never had a therapist at camp before – was this Jonathan’s answer to justify still being open? Liv had been a fixture in Camp Evergreen’s past for so long, wasn’t she a bit close to her ‘patients’? Besides, what would talking about it do? Laying down on some couch while Liv listened to his woe-is-me story didn’t sound productive to Rowan at all – and it certainly wouldn’t solve his problems. Only finding the girls would do that – it’d just be a waste of his time.

But before Billie could press for more, a sudden camper’s shout of excitement cut through the air, silencing the entire dining hall. Um? She instinctively pivoted in her seat, squinting towards the entrance’s direction—chopped blonde hair, cool stance. Clearly, someone who knew how to make an entrance. “Who’s that?” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, her question clear.

Rowan’s mood was always bound to be a ticking time bomb, well-known for its wild swings. Despite the okay mood he was in, a disruption from the front of the dining hall interrupted his concentration on his food, “Mack!”

He glanced over his shoulder at the voice, immediately finding the blonde haired irritation standing at the Hall’s entrance, lip curling in disgust. What the fuck is she doing here? He’d never expected to see her back here after last year… not after everything. Then again, she wasn’t the only one he hadn’t expected to see come back – he threw a cursory glance around the room to catch the other counselors’ reactions and caught sight of Lou standing up and crossing the dining hall – they were really just coming out of the woodworks now, huh?

He rolled his eyes and returned to his spaghetti, trying to find the will to finish his half-eaten plate while the quick heat of anger swallowed him. What the fuck am I doing here? The longer he spent back at camp, it seemed more and more like nobody was taking any of this seriously – like everything was a sick joke. He took a sip from his water, trying to douse the fire of his anger down with the cool liquid and hide the worst of his reaction from the rest of the counselors. Setting his cup down with a thunk, he mumbled a response to Billie. “Nobody good.”

Liv turned with the rest to see Mack walk in. For such a chatty dining hall, the energy of the room seemed to shift so much with just a single person stepping inside. And it was just Mack. She’d been here for years; since when was she such an unexpected sight.

Rowan’s response caught her off guard. Liv had never been close to the other girl, but she had no idea what warranted such a harsh reaction from him. What was so wrong with Mack?

Annalise tensed as the chorus of Mack’s name being called bounced between campers and counselors alike in a ripple effect. What the hell? The blonde’s neck craned, peeking between rows of people in search of the girl in question. Something shifted in Annie’s stomach—dread creeping its way in as if the door had been left unlocked in anticipation of its arrival.

Once upon a time, the two had been cordial, save for when Paige was involved—on those occasions, Annalise had been riddled with a jealousy she didn’t dare to admit. She was supposed to be Paige’s best friend, and anyone that got in the way of that was putting a hitch in the plans that’d been laid out for Annie by her family. When Paige inevitably became privy to said intentions, Mack had blindly sided with her despite her obliviousness to the reasons behind their tension. By then, Annalise should’ve been accustomed to the sting of being discarded like something rotten they’d found stuck to the bottom of their shoes, but each instance was as painful as the last. They hadn’t even attempted to understand where she was coming from.

Annie was glad to see Mack go.

And yet, against all odds…

“Mack’s here? How?”

Ezzy hadn't been paying much attention since the food came out. He was content to let the others discuss and take care of the campers while he chewed on some pretty mid spaghetti. Camp food was never anything to die for, but he was hungry enough that it tasted just great. It was also useful in helping him ignore Rowan's presence.

Ezzy wasn't particularly... Bothered by the other counsellor's presence, but if you asked Ezzy, the guy was certainly a damper on the mood. Rowan went ahead and proved that Ezzy was right as he trashed one of the more interesting people at camp.

"Nah, she's someone great," he jumped in as he leaned in slightly to join the conversation, not wanting Billie to be misinformed. His tone wasn't sharp—not aggressive—just flat and dismissive in a way that made it clear he wasn't arguing with Rowan, just correcting him. Mack had her faults like everyone else, but by Evergreen standards, she was one of the less problematic people, one could argue. She was a party. It wasn't her fault Rowan didn't know how to relax. Or do anything except sit on his high horse.

"That's Mack," he informed Billie. "She used to be a counselor here, camper too."

Nobody good, somebody great—And of course, Billie released a low oh, drawing out the word before flicking her gaze back towards the questionable woman and the cluster of people around her. “Mack? That short for something?” she asked curiously, a soft hum trailing after her words before she added, “So, she’s, what, complex?”

The tension was obvious. Even without knowing the full story, she could feel it crackling in the air, visible in the shifting glances and stiff postures around the room. More counselors were getting up, moving towards the guest like moths to a flame, and for a moment, Billie considered doing the same.

“I’ll be back, gonna introduce myself.”

Flashing a quick smile, she raised a hand in a lazy wave to her table, ruffling a few campers’ heads on her way past. Closing the distance, she realized her social battery, already running on fumes, wavered dangerously, anxiety pooling in the pit of her stomach—nope, nevermind.

At the last second, she pivoted on her heel, slipping out of view from her table. Spotting an exit far to the left, she made a beeline for it, slipping out into the open air. The cool breeze hit her face like a reset button, and she let out a quiet sigh, arms crossing as she rubbed at her skin.

“Well... that could’ve been worse.”

Rowan’s eye twitched in irritation at Ezzy's insistence to correct him and he glared at the other counselor. He didn’t take being corrected very well, especially on something that was obviously objective, though Rowan seriously doubted the judgement of anyone who described Mack as ‘great,’ even if he could admit that his reason for disliking her was mostly personal.

So she’s, what, complex? “That’s certainly a word for it,” he replied with a pointed look at Ezzy, pushing his picked-through plate away from him and shrugging as Billie got up to leave.

“Just be careful.” He warned, picturing a delirious Paige in a puff of smoke next to Mack. Even if it had always been Paige’s choice, he couldn’t help but put some of the blame on the people who made her bad habits easier. Maybe it was easier than being angry at her.

With that thought, Rowan finished off his water and stood to bid the table goodbye. “Well… it’s been real,” he said, grabbing his costume from the chair and tossing it over his shoulder, fabric bouncing lamely behind him like the world’s worst cape as he made his exit from the dining hall.

Ezzy was unfazed by the glare. Rowan seemed to always be glaring, no matter what was happening. He offered a simple shrug and moved on, finishing up his meal. A few campers asked questions that he answered easily before taking his leave and trailing out after the other counselors. Truth or dare was going to be fun.

cast:
location:
camp evergreen, dining hall

tags:
EZZY ( ocie ocie ), ANNIE ( lvcid lvcid ), ROWAN ( irregular-neptune irregular-neptune ), LIV ( evermoon evermoon ) & BILLIE
 
Table One

dinner group post
S
tomach grumbling, Elodie high-tailed it towards the Dining Hall the moment she saw campers being escorted from the Farmyard—as her newly acquired map pointed out—with tomatoes in hand. Not picky in the slightest, the city native tucked the glossy paper into the pocket of the jacket hanging off her shoulders, bunched around her elbows as the summer’s heat demanded, and followed a step behind as if she were one of them.

“Shouldn’t be too long, right?” Elodie mumbled to herself after she broke off from the trail of campers to spin around the Hall, the Supervisor placing down laminated lists of names having caught her eye. She slyly sidled up after each list was set down, searching for her name—and grinned, glad she wasn’t forgotten.

Twenty minutes later, humming under her breath, campers began to flock rambunctiously into the Hall. Her brow twitches as she straightens her posture, feeling as if she were put on the spot—was it her responsibility to remind them of indoor voices or was this expected?

“Um,” she taps both of her fingers on the wooden surface as campers, not sparing her a second glance, flood the table. A fish in the water, Elodie decides to approach through a conversation she’d have with her little sister after school. She wasn’t always living in the struggle bus of financial hardship—there had to be some way to connect. “Hi! Did you enjoy your activities today?”

One boy cuts his conversation short to twist his head around, speaking blatantly, “nope,” and immediately returns to the topic at hand with his friend.

Elodie scowls at the back of his head. Forget it. She slumps forward, chin propped on her clenched knuckles and waits to be saved from the future American Psycho’s.

Nicolas Burns had found himself venturing into the Dining Hall with unbridled curiosity ten minutes earlier, head tilted upward to examine the cavernous building until his feet took him further than anticipated—the front kitchen. While the smell of cooked food didn’t go undetected when he walked in, the sight of untouched granola bars, fruit cups—room temperature, but good nonetheless—and individual bags of pretzels kicked his appetite into high gear.

Jackpot…” the survivalist quietly exclaimed, surveying the few snacks in his hand with great satisfaction, before his attention caught on a brightly printed kid’s poster. ‘Good nutrition makes you smile!’ it had read, a child of similar age to the campers he was appointed to watch tonight staring back at him with an orange-slice smile. you said it.” he mumbled to himself before spinning on his heel and heading back to main area.

By the time his feet led him out, Nic’s eyes landed on the influx of counselors and campers arriving in a neverending wave, internally grateful that he had beaten the crowd inside instead of having to shoulder his way in or, even worse, get stuck with a bad seat at his table. At the thought: One? No. Table one...table one...He repeated his assigned table to himself like an embedded mantra—quiet, yet discernible if one passed him by—before he stopped at the sight of a girl, plus a few stray campers who seemingly shunned her from their conversation, sitting down.

He noted her unfamiliar strawberry blonde hair first and compared them to the names on the list he passed earlier—not Mona or Lou. “Clarisse or Elodie,” he used the names to announce his presence before swiftly occupying the seat across from her with a smile. “Or camper. You kinda look like one with the uh—sad eyes.”

Before giving her time to respond, Nic decided to flash his stolen snacks at her. “Want one? Who knows the kind of shit they serve here.”

Elodie springs upwards as a voice jostles her from thoughts of realistic and ideal ways to stage a workplace accident; how much she might be compensated, what medical expenses would be taken from that sum, was hospital food worth being free—

All-too-grateful, the city native picks out a bag of pretzels. “Elodie,” she responds, allowing a nervous smile to land. Please don’t be a buzzkill. “Or Ellie. Are you…” she glances at the laminated paper being passed around between campers, hands idly toying with the sheet and flinging it across the varnished wood. “Nicolas… Louis? Lou?”

“Ha! No, I’m not Lou.”
A snort escaped at the thought as he shook his head before his expression melted into a smile. “Too local to nail that southern drawl without sounding like a jackass.” Reminded of his friend, the survivalist briefly scanned the dining hall in search of the farmer before they landed on Ellie again. “I’m Nicolas. Or Nic cause ya’know—” he shrugged. “—it’s cooler.”

Unsurprisingly, as the lanky newcomer never seemed to run out of words, Nicolas didn’t let an awkward beat pass between them before moving on to the next topic. “Did you get here yesterday? I didn’t see you this morning with the rest of the new guys.”

Elodie nods deeply with complete understanding. Cooler. I totally get it. “Nic, it is!”

Foot tapping beneath the table, she shakes her head at his question as she tears open the packet of pretzels, mouth watering as the scent of butter and salt wafts across her face. “After breakfast. The bus had like… several more detours than normal—seventeen hour ride,” she pulls a face at Nicolas, a pout on her lips. “I know. Missed out on the activities this morning… but, luckily,” she straightens her posture, fluffing up as she gets to reveal her summer role. “Music isn’t until tomorrow.”

Seventeen? Nic’s mouth stretched a bit to resemble the sound of a wince at the long bus trip while his fingers worked to pinch at the end of a granola bar’s wrapping paper—half-listening to Ellie’s explanation while he was preoccupied with getting to the sticky treat inside. “You didn’t miss much from what I heard. Well—” Except Lisa, his mind filled in the blank but he swallowed the revelation before it could leave his lips.

Raking her eyes over the towering counsellor—were they all so tall?—she points idly at his face, elbow propped up on the table, not meant to be unkind. “Are you in Drama or Sports?”

Fuckinfinally. “Uh-uh. Survivalist.” he simply answered, successfully ripping the plastic down the middle and retrieving the granola bar. Not before taking a bite, Nic gave himself a minute to eat and looked back up to Ellie when he was finished. “Music sounds way better though. The world needs less Justin Timberlakes and a lot more Avrils.”

Elodie leans forward, both eyes blown wide with a self-satisfied smile. He gets it! “You get it.” She echoes her thoughts and rolls her shoulders—a habit, feeling the ghost of her guitar case strapped on her back—and slumps backwards into the chair, arguably more comfortable.

“Survivalist, huh… I can see it. You should consider some bright colours—not that I don’t love the aesthetic, because trust me,” she pulls at the leather of her own jacket, knowing they could pass off for some travelling rock group or concert-goers if they were spotted out in Portland. “Some kind of warning to the wildlife. Like those little poison dart frogs—they’re colourful to tell other predators ‘I’m dangerous, stay away.’” She hums, head falling to the side in consideration. “Wonder if the bears or wolves out in these woods would care.”

Slipping in ahead of Olivia, Clarisse headed to the seating arrangement with some hopes that she would see a familiar, friendly name on it. Ricky would be nice, someone who was pretty much a destresser for the day. She stopped in front of the laminated sheet and maybe skipping dinner and just grabbing snacks before going to the Sunspot sounded like a fine idea, a better idea even, than what she was staring at right now.

Ramona and Lou? Great. The last time she had the pleasure of hanging out with the both of them, she ended up nearly breaking an arm because, unsurprisingly, Ramona was right in the fact that the climb was too dangerous to bring her along. She turned to the table where she should go, turned back to the names on the paper, back at the table then back at the door. Nicolas Burns, huh? Hopefully, he isn’t actually that bad… There was another person on the table, some other new person named Elodie and maybe that brought a little bit of relief to her.

She tried to collect some form of strength from the list before turning around to head towards the table herself. Maybe the campers would be rowdy enough to keep them all busy.

Crunching down on a handful of pretzels, Elodie’s eyes widen—shit, another tall girl—at an approaching counsellor over Nicolas’ shoulder, flicking her eyes back and forth to summon his attention. “She has to be in Sports. Basketball, or Volleyball, or… do you have to be tall for tennis?”

Ha! She’s funny. The survivalist’s shoulders shook gently at the guessing game Ellie took him down on, before throwing a fleeting glance toward the advancing girl behind him. Holy shit—swiftly, he turned back to Ellie, wide eyes mirroring her own. Dunno, but she’s probably carrying the team on her back,” he quipped in a whisper, before bringing a single finger up to his lips in a playful quiet gesture. Shh, she’s coming!”

Elodie mirrors the press of a finger to her lips, silencing her own need to add, no shit, right? and opts to wave at the approaching girl in greeting. “Hello! Not a camper are you?” She holds back a snicker at her own playful jab—not a single soul with a functioning brain would confuse her for anything but a counsellor.

Clarisse approached the two, apprehensive at first but trying to keep an open mind, and gave a two-fingered salute back. She gave Elodie a lopsided smile. “Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a camper.” She took her position next to the new girl and gave a small greeting to some of the campers who noticed her arrival. “Name's Clarisse,” she said as she shifted her attention back to the new counselors. “Elodie and Nicolas, yeah? Welcome to the camp, but I guess you already got that entire spiel.”

Mirroring the two-fingered salute, with a small snicker, Elodie flips it into a rapid wave, damn, don’t tell me I wasn’t original. Think that might be the worst news I might’ve heard today—” her mouth flops open, wishing she could swallow the words back. She was more than aware, thanks to Levi’s stern warning, the information unloaded on counsellors that morning. “Elodie, yes. Call me Ellie though,” she smoothly tries to recover before anyone at the table could think too much about her big mouth.

“Um… not that welcoming,” she tucks strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, testing the strands with her fingertips as she does, needs a wash immediately, and awkwardly laughs. Levi wasn’t the worst welcoming committee, but the start of their meeting was a rude awakening, only to be followed by Harper—“so far so good here with Nic.” She tosses a grin over at Nicolas, grateful for the returned energy he offered.

On queue with the sound of his name, Nicolas glanced over toward the counselor who had identified herself as Clarisse, instinctively sharing the smile he often wore with her before lifting his hand to wave like Ellie had. Hiyah,” he replied, doing his best to discreetly give her a once-over before his curiosity got the better of him. Wonder if we were right—“Sounds like you been here long! What do you do?”

Clarisse nodded, noting the nickname for later. She wondered if she was older— she probably was— but hopefully it wasn't too much older. “Ah, yeah. News lately haven't been particularly great.” She couldn't remember if Elodie had been there at orientation to hear about Lisa. From the sounds of it, she was.

Her attention bounced to Nicolas, wearing an easy smile and seemingly all relaxed. “I'm a substitute this year,” she answered. “Used to be in sports but figured they need an extra pair of flexible hands.” They didn't need to know the entire history of her decision— and they likely wouldn't really care too much about it. “How about you two?”

Half-point.”
Elodie taps a finger in the space between her and Nicolas, physically noting down the tally of their game. Wanting to rope Clarisse into the fold, the musician holds her palm out—an open invitation. “Want to guess? We’re keeping score.”

Ah, so it was a game. Clarisse gave it a bit of thought, running through the names of the counselors she knew and their jobs— but, to be fair, that was all thrown around what with Levi going to sports and Juliette falling into the kitchen. So, open positions. Barring the newly minted camp therapist, Clarisse was pretty sure no other spots had opened up.

So, that leaves… “One of you has got to be in charge of music. You've got that energy about you.” She ignored how the guess made her feel uncomfortable, how she had known one person to occupy that space for nearly all her life and now he had left it. “And, hm, swimming? Maybe?” Unlikely, considering she would have heard it from Joey but a shot in the dark never hurt.

Nic grinned. “Got one right! But—” feigning a brief pout for Clarisse before his face returned to normal, he added, “You only get one point. Ellie’s in charge of music. I’m a survivalist instructor.”

Before the—substitute—could respond, the burnout became distracted by Ellie, who had prompted another contestant for their game walking past the threshold in his peripheral vision.

Ramona couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on the cusp of sliding something into place—one final turn of the puzzle piece, and she’d be able to step back again to see the bigger picture. Yet, there were so many convoluted thoughts swimming through her head that each thread she pulled only managed to tangle the intricate web further. Mona counted herself fortunate that she and Billie had the presence of the raucous children in their care to distract from the sullen silence that had befallen her as they crossed from the bathrooms to the Dining Hall.
By the time Ramona made it past the door, the majority of her group had already trickled off to find their friends, claiming spots of their own at the quickly-filling wooden tables. The counselors didn’t have that luxury, however, as they inspected the night’s seating arrangements, printed and laminated for their convenience.

Mona spotted her name—staring back at her from the first sheet, and in good company, too—with ease, but before she made her exit, she sent Billie a sideways glance, eyes trailing to scan the list that held the other farmer’s attention. “Good luck,” she said, snorting a laugh as she passed.

Farming, I have to be right,” Elodie folds the empty pretzel packet into several pieces, tightly compacted until it can no longer be moulded. “She’s wearing earthy colours. That has to count for something.” Tucking the plastic into her jacket pocket, she frowns for a second as she hears the packet spring open as she releases her grasp. Ugh.

“Hi there! You must be Mona, unless Lou is short for Louisa?”

Ramona’s hand—freshly-washed but still not entirely rid of the dirt that called the lines of her cuticles home—rested on the edge of the table, knee coming up to prop where her butt would’ve landed had she not stopped to peer at the other counselor—new, apparently. She blinked, waiting for her brain to emerge from its fog long enough to catch up with the woman’s rapid-fire accusations. “Oh, wow. Hi. Is it that obvious?” The brunette chuckled uncomfortably, eyes flicking to Nicolas in a brief greeting as she finally took the empty seat at his side. “It’s not short for anything, by the way. For future reference.” Lou had already answered that question once that day—a valid inquiry, but it had to get tiring eventually.

Not Mona. Half expecting the music instructor to be greeting their assumed sporty girl to the table, Nic only looked up when the empty seat next to him became occupied, and his eyes naturally trailed upward to the face the knee belonged to. No way.

“Hey!” Forgetting the granola bar in his hand entirely, Nicolas’ form perked up at the sight of his childhood friend, a subtle smile cracking into a full-fledged grin. “When the hell did our high school’s Dora become a farmer?”

Ramona rolled her eyes at the nickname—one that had served to nudge her down the path of growing her hair out after freshman year, only for the woman to fall back into old habits at the first sign of trouble. “Way before you got here,” she answered. “What do they even have you teaching—how to wear a leather jacket in the summer without sweating to death?”

He snorted at her quip. “Just about. I get to light shit on fire and call it a job. Can you believe that?” Taking a bigger bite out of his granola bar in an attempt to down it faster, Nic crumbled the wrapping paper under the weight of a fist until it resembled a ball while throwing Mona a look that said, easiest 10k of my life. After swallowing his snack, he added. “I see why you deal with these booger-eaters every summer.”

“Sure,”
Ramona agreed. Truly, the job was a chance at getting away—the only kind that the young woman could manage with Cooper in her care during the long, summer months—but she didn’t have the heart to correct Nicolas, to bring down the conversation’s otherwise playful tone. Besides, the money was a welcomed incentive. “So, they’re just letting anyone in here this year, huh?”

He feigned offense when his jaw dropped into a slight ‘O’ shape. “Anyone cool, you mean?” When Nic took the time to register her question, a genuine scoff slipped past his lips, reminded of the first time he tried to apply—or, more accurately, chastised into it—before being denied by Jonathan. So much for nepotism. “Took him long enough. I guess I have enough experience to qualify for glorified babysitting and eating S’mores now.”

Elodie jots that little note down in her mind—not short for anything, got it—and swings her legs, the toes of her boots catching on the wooden floorboards with each passover. She also notes the girls’ need to make a clarification and nods to herself, definitely a virgo.

Straightening up as Nicolas alludes to a past before camp, Elodie blinks in surprise, small world. “Wow… you know each other?” She doesn’t feel ostracised or left out, but there’s a distinct feeling of missing several pieces—a puzzle she’d let solve itself.

Mona shrugged. “Easthallow’s small,” she explained. “It’s kinda hard not to know everyone that lives here.” It was a blessing and a curse—as easy as it was to form friendships and maintain them due to proximity, it was equally as hard to keep secrets. Gossip spread from one cramped backyard to another like wildfire, making it nearly impossible for one’s business to stay solely their own, and Ramona had been burned more times than she cared to admit.

Dropping her chin to rest in her palms, her fingers rubbing small circles in the space behind her ears, and the city native grins at the reunion, “you’re tall, too. I—” Her eyelids flutter at the candidness of her comment, jaw dropping open. “Sorry. That was a little on the spot… there’s something in the water of Oregon state, clearly.”

“Tell me about it,”
the farmer agreed with a short laugh. She turned her attention to Nic again before continuing, “Have you seen Lou yet? He’s a giant now.” Maybe they were like plants—only able to grow as big as their containment would allow. If Ramona had escaped their stifling city, perhaps she would have shot up as well.

“Talked his ear off on the way to and back from Willamina, actually.” God, I missed that guy. As he stuffed the paper into any unoccupied pocket in his jacket, Nic lifted his head up—attention flicking around the company of his growing table before settling on Elodie in with a tale ready. “Mona used to be the tallest outta the three of us, and now we can use her head as an armrest,” he laughed, before catching the slight roll of his childhood friend’s eyes. “Awe c’mon, that one was funny—”

Ramona breathed a sarcastic laugh. “Absolutely hilarious,” she said. “Why don’t you try it, and see what happens?” Her threat was built on a weak foundation, however—it promised little more than a teasing elbow to the ribs in hypothetical retaliation. Still, the farmer’s line of sight sought out Elodie—even Clarisse—and gave them an exasperated look as if to say, boys, am I right?

Clarisse watched, a little amused, as Elodie began to try and guess what Ramona's position was— and she was right on the money. She greeted her cabinmate with a salute but stayed otherwise quiet. An interesting observation to hear that Ramona knew Nicolas but, well, they both probably lived here anyway. It shouldn't really be all that surprising. A small part of her wondered if Ramona knew of Nicolas’ dating history and if she could peer into what happened with Olivia but that was a dangerous rabbit hole to jump into.

She braced herself against the bench and leaned a little back to get Elodie in the view of the conversation as she began speaking. Without saying anything, Clarisse hovered a hand above Elodie's head. “Not just Oregon,” she proclaimed with a seemingly pleased hum as she retracted her hand to act as support for her lean again and caught Ramona's look and she simply gave a shrug back.

Elodie shifts back and forth on the bench, bottom lip curled inwards as she thinks staying wasn’t such a hopeless idea after all—there’s some nice people around—reminded of a certain former rock and roller, the musician peers above the tallest heads packed into the room, searching for a giant amongst giants.

Levi’s tall—think he also thought I was a camper, by the way,” she says pointedly at Nicolas, holding her hand out for another stolen snack as she spots Levi speaking to another man—a costume being shifted from hand to hand—and lights up. Wait. Do you all have costumes for that um… thing tonight?”

Levi’s tall. No kidding. Presenting a fruit cup and a chocolate chip granola bar in Ellie’s direction, Nic readied the goodhearted quip lingering on the tip of his tongue while the former member of the Willamina group was the topic of conversation. “Only other person I know that tall is Hugo. They’re in different fuckin’ zip codes up there.”

At the mention of costumes, however, a slight frown of disappointment threatened to overtake his features, reminded of the fact that the camp’s resident Goliath had taken the trenchcoat he had his eyes set on back at the thrift. What even is Eric Draven without it? Though, the survivalist knew he could make it work as long as Miriam was still willing to paint his face. Speaking of—

Haven’t seen her all day.


Ramona followed Elodie’s gaze momentarily before shaking her head. “Not me,” she answered. “I probably won’t go for long, so I’ll just make do with whatever I packed.” The dark-haired woman paused, studying the shorter girl before continuing, “Don’t feel bad about not dressing up. You’re new, and the whole ‘mandatory costumes’ thing is bullshit, anyway.”

Elodie greedily accepts both offered snacks, mindlessly peeling the lid from the fruit cup as she searches for a Hugo. “Oh… is that him?” She points to an adult, like—a real adult—dwarfing the campers leaning away from his space at the table not so far from their own. Convinced Oregon was discovered and built upon some radioactive waste, she chews on a slice of peach, mourning the loss of a height she’d never have.

Prompted by the music instructor’s curiosity, Nic followed the point of her attention, and it didn’t take long for him to spot the disgruntled groundskeeper—shared DNA seemingly designed for a Burns to recognize a Burns, even in a crowded room. This time, however, Hugo displayed expressions that Nic never grew accustomed to, and it wasn’t long before the survivalist started noting gestures out of his father’s norm.

What’s he smiling so big for? The internal monologue was laced with more bitterness than intended. Flustered, and never more grateful for Ellie’s rambling, Nic threw a fleeting glance around the table to ensure that nobody noticed, before blowing a sigh of relief and tuning into the conversation again.

Instead, she smiles at Mona around another helping of fruits. “Was wonderin’mpf what that whole ordeal was ‘bout—” she speaks with food in her mouth, uncaring and unknowing for table manners. Swallowing down her snack, she straightens her posture once more to proudly claim, “thinking of going as a homeless girl. That’s gotta be a change and considered a costume, right? All these rich ones over here,” she nods to the nearest camper, the one who’d dismissed her before, with the faintest scowl in her eyes.

“Don’t worry! It’s not insensitive. My aunt was homeless once, I have her sneakers that are on their last thread of life.” Lying came too naturally, so second-nature, that Elodie was convinced no one would see through the concealed truth. She tilts her head back and forth, a habit of following a made up rhythm in her mind, as she attacks the granola bar next. “Bullshit, though, for sure.”

Usually, Ramona would’ve had more to say regarding the girl’s questionable choice in attire, but working in the company of children all afternoon had softened her to the prospect of odd ideas—it certainly wasn’t the strangest she’d heard that day. “I mean, at least you won’t have to worry about someone else showing up in the same thing.” There were always fairies and superheroes huddled around the fire, but ‘homeless girl’ had to be a first. It seemed like the sort of ensemble that Renee would have banned in the past, not for its problematic undertones but because it went against what she’d deemed as the night’s ideal aesthetic.

She thought about mentioning the sneakers, too—pointing out how much of a freak coincidence it was that Elodie even had the shoes with her currently—but thought better of it. Whatever reason the girl had for packing her aunt’s tattered belongings for a couple of weeks at camp was a personal one that Mona had no business prying into.

Both hands gripped the cart—wheels rattling beneath him as if they, too, anticipated the great escape from the kitchen. The conquest of dinner was a torture that only grew between the taste testing and his own ability to stand being wedged between whatever madness drove Juliette and the Evergreen’s unending gossip. It was one thing to lend an extra hand—he was content to have been able to anyways. But how they'd have been able to get it all done between their banter was beyond him. Girls and their wars, he never understood it. One second, he'd fall for the notion that their easy exchanges—though uncongenial most of the time—were hints they might be getting along well. Then one of them would spring an ex tempore of a rug pull underneath the other and leave him utterly confused. It’s always some mind game, he thought—some tug-of-war in which no one dared to let go. In some way, he supposed it was sort of entertaining.

The meal that lay ahead of him would be his reward. Lou set the large silver-plated serving bowl and a bin of utensils at the edge of table, refraining from looking up at anyone before grabbing a plate from the lowest rack—his own dish, piled high with parmesan, pepper enough to comatose a toddler and sliced salami he found inside the fridge. Stolen from, who knows, but at this point the protein was a necessity. If he walked away from the dining hall with a stomach full of tomato sauce and noodles alone, it’d be a long, sad night.

Still unconcerned with his surroundings, he reached into the bin, snagged a fork without a second thought, and wove his way through the kids lining up at the table. He found the last seat at the far end, sinking into it with a detached ease. He'd just speared the fork into the red mess on his plate, and angled it towards him when he decided to look up, dazed. Mona, Nic, Clarisse.

“Oh. Hey.”

When Lou finally made his appearance, it was in the presence of a dinner cart, which he promptly abandoned at the opposite end of the table in his haste to eat. There was a defeated, trance-like quality in the way he carried himself to his seat, as if something dark had transpired in the moments between his departure from the farmyard and his arrival now. That makes sense, Ramona concluded, recalling who he would’ve been greeted by with his load of tomatoes. “Was kitchen duty that bad?” the brunette asked, biting back an ill-timed laugh. Already, the campers had positioned themselves to collect their portion of spaghetti, but Mona didn’t bother moving yet—it made no difference to wait from the back of a line as opposed to relishing in what little comfort her chair provided. It felt good to be off her feet at last.

Nic’s shoulders gently shook as he broke into a laugh. The sight of an oblivious Lou making a beeline for the last unoccupied seat at the table was the amusement the survivalist needed to pull him away from a threateningly dampened mood he was on the brink of drowning in. Turning to Elodie, he nodded in his childhood friend’s direction first, simply statingthat’s Lou”, before he made a move to stand up. Dude, what happened in there?” he asked, beginning his short trip toward the edge of the table toward the cart.

Dinner came by way of a blissfully unaware blonde man, but Elodie’s focus remained on the cart being pushed to the table, oblivious herself as he’d taken a seat and began to eat. Bellissima. Not a picky eater by any means—what a privilege—Elodie jumps up to beeline for the far end of the table, returning only when her plate has been piled high with noodles and sauce.

As Nic reached for a bowl, a hint of garlic wafting from the spaghetti sauce filled his nose, momentarily grounding him in the comfort of knowing a hot meal—after a long day—was finally at his fingertips. But just as he was about to ladle a serving onto his plate, his gaze lifted briefly to the crowded mess hall—and then froze.

A face, that not even nearly a decade could erase from his memory, stood just a few tables away, turned into a conversation, her voice distant yet unmistakeable. Olivia?

The warmth of the mess hell, the low hum of chatter, the clatter of utensils against ceramics—all of it dulled beneath the sudden weight that replaced the hunger in his stomach. Instinctively, his grip tightened until—

“Hellooooo! Are you almost done?” A camper.

Suddenly sheepish, Nic moved briskly—without his usual quip at the ready—before serving himself a hearty serving and returning to his seat next to Mona.

If not for Nicolas drawing her attention from the meal before her, Elodie wouldn’t have known that their final tablemate arrived. She waves at the man, mouth too full to mumble a coherent hello without coming across as awfully rude—again—and nods appreciatively, pointing at the meal before her. So good.

Clarisse followed Nicolas closeby, a little amused at Lou's one track mind to feed himself. She could understand the need to do so and it saved the table from any sort of argument that she had expected.

A small hold up in the line with Nicolas seemingly stunned at something and curiosity wanted to get the best of her. Was it about Liv? Has to be, unless there was someone else he was cautious of. Why am I even remotely invested in this? She shook her head. Best to just stay out of it all and observe as per usual.

She got her helping of spaghetti and returned to her seat, letting out a small breath when Ramona didn't even seem like she'd tear Lou a new one. Clarisse gave him a small nod as a greeting when he finally came to before ducking her own head down only to realize that— “Oh what the hell.” Deep inside, she knew why their meals were meatless since they had vegetarians but she was still withering.

She looked at Lou's plate which did have some helping of salami. Forgetting about any past transgressions in the face of the prospect of protein, Clarisse piped up. “Hand over some salami, Lou. I think I'm going to die without it.”

Elodie perks up. “There’s salami?”

Lou set his fork down, acknowledging his friends with a nod and a sheepish smile—briefly sharing the sentiment with a camper seated next to Clarisse. “Uh,” He faced Mona with an unstaid grin and unintentionally stalled a beat, feeling his trial in the kitchen must have rewarded him with a seating arrangement of good friends. Movement in his peripherals pulled him away in time to watch Liv walk through the doors, ”It was…fine.” Shit. I forgot I was supposed to—

“Hand over some salami, Lou. I think I'm going to die without it.”—warn Nic.

Wordlessly, Lou slapped a generous four salami circles on his friend’s plate, then glanced at Mona again—twirling his fork around the noodles alongside a couple folded salami slabs. “It was whatever.” Lou responded, mouth barely moving before he scoffed a laugh under his breath. “Just about what you’d guess it’d be like.”

Ramona allowed a small chuckle to slip past her lips. “I can tell,” she teased. Then, “Sorry. I’ll get Billie to do it next time.” The brunette resisted the urge to place a reassuring hand on Lou’s wrist, instead pushing away from the table altogether as the last camper scooped out their helping of spaghetti.

Raking the metal sides of the bowl, Mona managed to scrape together a decent portion despite being among the final members to get their food. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until she’d settled into her chair again, spaghetti piled tantalizingly before her. The farmer didn’t hesitate to plunge her fork into the pile of noodles, giving it a twist, but she paused the bite on its way to her mouth as a thought occurred to her. “Oh! I almost forgot.” Ramona fixed her attention on Lou, voice lowering before she continued, “I think I know what hit the window last night.”

“Yeah?”
Lou raised his brow, nearly forgetting that the event had happened the very same day—how he’d started it. The memory felt more like it happened yesterday. It would be like Mona to still be pondering over something so trivial. It did startle us though.. He put his fork down, intrigued to hear her theory, “What was it?”

“Thanks.”
Clarisse separated the salami circles a bit to the side to avoid it from getting completely drenched with spaghetti sauce before mixing the noodles and the sauce. She had been nervous about this pair for no reason— the two had slipped back to what they had been all those years ago. A familiar feeling of frustration bubbled up inside the younger counselor. I hope it isn’t exactly like before.

The mystery of what exactly happened in the kitchen was left unresolved, only silently conveyed between the two, as their topic shifted to something else completely. One that gave her pause while twirling her first bite of the spaghetti. “Wait,” she called out before she could really think about the interruption, dread twisting inside her stomach. “Did something happen last night?”

Lou shrugged, “Well, early this morning we all woke up to a broken window. When we checked it out, there was blood an’ some sort of fur wedged into the pane—traces of it down the walls—we didn’t know what t’ do about it so we sorta..wrote it off.” Not all of us. “Hugo must’a fixed it by now.”

Just as Ramona’s lips parted to speak, Clarisse interrupted, and the brunette gratefully fell silent as Lou took over the explanation, using her bought time to eat. In hindsight, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—striking up a private conversation in such close proximity to willing listeners was an invitation to be bombarded with questions from curious eavesdroppers. “Cooper told me he heard something before he went to bed,” Mona said. “Could be related.” It was the only explanation she provided, suddenly sheepish now that she’d garnered the group’s attention as a whole. It was a difficult concept to put into words—Our camp’s being invaded by wolves!—without either sounding crazy or inciting panic in the children seated so closely. “Forget I said anything.” Yet, Ramona sent Lou a look that said, Later.

Lou nodded slowly, catching her hint. The two would have time later when he gave her the costume parts anyways. He continued making his progress with the food, but the younger Blake—the way the kid looked when they met eyes at the farmyard after the three counselors struggled to save whatever face they could over the Lisa situation. What did he know? What did he hear?

Engrossed in the Italian cuisine, devouring the noodles with obnoxious slurps and gulping down copious amounts of juice whenever Elodie felt she was testing deaths’ patience, the musician faintly pays attention to the discussion with wavering interest. Something about Billie and windows and blood and fur—her gaze lifts with concern, settling on Nicolas and mouthing, did you hear that?

Shamelessly eavesdropping alongside his new friend, Nic nodded in response to Ellie’s question, curiosity at its highest peak as the survivalist welcomed any distraction from the trance-like stupor seeing his ex put it in. Sounds creepy as hell to me.

Quiet panic settles amongst the slight heave of her chest as she engulfed her food with a ferocity resembling that of a starving hound, barely stopping to take a breath. Eyes widened, Elodie tracks an unsure look across the table, only to settle on the dwindling helpings of spaghetti. Oh, shit. She stands, chair scratching the floor's surface like nails on a chalkboard, her concern forgotten in favour of seconds.

“Hey, um. Listen,” Elodie interjects as she returns with a second plate of noodles, piled high enough to resemble an Egyptian pyramid. “I know we’re out in the wilderness,” she stresses the word with a casual wince—what a terrible reminder—“but, this camp wasn’t built near any nests of rabies infested raccoons, right? Seems like a safety hazard.” And if there was one thing she knew for certain about rich people—putting money where their mouth was and handing out settlements to who they’ve wronged was a universal hatred.

“Doubt it,” Mona answered. You’re worried about the wrong animal. “Hugo keeps an eye out for that kind of stuff. Nothing to stress about.” She offered Elodie a small, comforting—albeit forced—smile, stuffing it full of spaghetti a moment later to stop herself from rambling her way into a lie she couldn’t sell.

They were being flippant about the entire thing and brushed off Elodie's worries about rabid raccoons or what have you. Ramona was right— Mr. Hugo had done a good job on keeping the local wildlife away from the camp. But there's something else out there, her mind reminded her. Something. Someone. Whichever. The events of last year haunted her and the words etched on paper followed her to her nightmares. Is it related? But they found fur. Maybe it's just an animal. So, Clarisse didn't speak up but was unsettled nonetheless.

When the blonde sitting next to Clarisse spoke up, her voice didn’t sound like one of the campers. Lou’s suspicion was confirmed when Mona replied to her as simply as she did. Gee, I thought that was a kid, he thought, slightly relieved he hadn’t said anything offensive. He listened silently, scraping up the last morsels and finally feeling the comfort of fullness. Surrounding him, the cafeteria’s buzz hummed together much like the steady roar of the ocean, and Lou could hardly pick out any one voice through the mix of chatter and energy.

Across the Dining Hall, a camper screeched, their shrill voice carrying above the collective din. It was enough to pull Ramona’s focus from her group, brow furrowing as her gaze swept over the sea of heads in search of any disturbance that was out of the ordinary, only to land on a figure standing just inside the building’s threshold. The familiar shag of blonde hair made Mona’s stomach turn, pleasant expression slipping into one of perturbed disbelief. “Guess Jonathan really is letting anyone in this year.”

In the height of Paige’s influence over Lou, Mack had always been at the scene of the crime as the leading enabler in the girl’s cruelty. Mack’s exposure as the camp’s resident drug dealer had felt like karmic justice being served at last, but being rid of her forever was a fate far too lucky for Evergreen.

Lou barely lifted his head, lazily scanning the crowd over the tops of bobbing heads, trying to catch whatever Mona was referring to. He was just about to give up when he spotted Liberty walking toward the entrance, making a beeline for a regrettably familiar blonde shag. No shot.. The two girls exchanged smiles and nods, with Joey on Liberty's heels thereafter. His brief hunch had been confirmed.

He pushed his plate forward, suddenly grateful he'd eaten before catching sight of Mack Griffin. It was almost like seeing a ghost. His mind drifted to a brief conversation with Levi at the pool tables at Foley's Tavern, back when he was still on the fence about how quick of a decision he'd made accepting Jonathan's job offer. He remembered the casual shake of his head, how they lightly joked over Levi's retelling of Mack getting kicked out for selling drugs. Jokes on his behalf only soothing at the notion she would not be there if he did take the job. Lou exhaled, “Shit.” under his breath—cracking his knuckles beneath the table in his usual nervous fashion. Really, of all people...

Clarisse had tried to put her attention back on her food, only managing a few bites, before a screech had her looking up and towards the sound and— “You've got to be kidding me.” There was something telling about the fact that Mack, of all people, was back. The roil of anger coursed through her as she sharply turned back to her food. Guess whatever was on her police record was scrubbed or she was deemed innocent enough. Another subject on the long list of things I need to talk to Mr. Jonathan about.

The rest of the conversation at his table melted away in a blur as Nic finally indulged in his pasta, welcoming the respite of a full stomach in the—very near—future as his fork dived in various times. After his third hearty bite, however, the screech of a random name hushed the Dining Hall significantly, the fork coming to rest in his mouth as his brow furrowed.

Mack?—Oh my god, is that Mack?!—Guys, Mack’s back!! The name had been forcibly embedded into his memory as the campers, and various counselors, donned expressions of excitement, others being propelled out of their seats to welcome a girl he’d never seen before.

Oblivious to his own friend’s distinct reactions, Nic acted on impulse as he set the fork on his plate and broke into a dramatized version of the joyous ones he saw. “Mack, oh my god! She’s here! She’s here!” Hands briefly coming up to clasp together, he laughed before letting his body relax. “Who’s Mack?”

The last time Lou had seen Mack was hard to pinpoint. By the time he was, unknowingly, wrapping up his stay lingering the outskirts of Evergreen, he'd spent too much of his free time side by side with Paige and the stoner. Mack, in Lou's eyes, was the kind of girl who couldn't care less about how things went about—indifferent to everything under the sun as long as she managed to get her kicks. Though, Paige held a certain affection for her. Once Mack entered the picture, it was rare that she'd left Paige's side during their excursions—whether it was the hidden patch of prairiesmoke-ridden pastures, his dock after hours, or whatever other hideaway deviants like them found themselves drawn to catch a fix. Mack had a knack for creating a space where everything was fine—a little more won’t hurt, or, why not? It was easy to fall into. How much blame could Lou really place on her? He was prone to that far before Mack found her way to Evergreen. But it was hard to resist against it when the two blondes paraded their bad behavior, laughing and living like it didn’t matter anyways.

How hypocritical of him to have started to dislike Paige’s behavior when it was perfectly fine to act that way when it was just the two of them. Like living two different lives, a face she showed to camp versus the one in the privacy of his own enablement. Mack exacerbated that side of her. Before they knew it, the three of them enabled eachother.

He remembered one night, high as a kite on the dock, taking his Lithium bottle and cursing about it—going on and on like a madman with some childish theory that it was actually turning him stupid or something. Mack and Paige had laughed at his antics, coaxing him to toss the pills into the lake, a light-handed suggestion. Treating it like a dare, he dumped the bottle into the lake just to give the girls more of a rise.

Lou shook his head, shrugging at Nic’s question. “She’s just some chick. Nothin’ t’ call home about.” He unclenched his jaw, feeling a cigarette and a quick exit calling his name.

Lou knew that statement wouldn’t be enough to satiate his friend’s curiosity, “—Got kicked out last year f’r sellin’ drugs, so that’s what the big surprise is about.”

With that, he stood up from the table and moved south, away from the crowds, trying to avoid the foot traffic as he headed toward the men’s restroom.

Ramona’s frown deepened, dark gaze glued to Lou’s retreating figure. “Of course she would find her way back just in time for Truth or Dare,” she muttered, the words directed to no one in particular but loud enough to be overheard by her closest table-mates. The camp must have been truly desperate to turn a blind eye to Mack’s past indiscretions, especially considering her odd relationship with Paige. Perhaps, Jonathan assumed that with his daughter gone, there was less risk of Mack being a “bad influence,” as if the two hadn’t been evenly-matched. “God forbid she miss a lucrative opportunity.”

Clarisse nodded along with Lou's response, a small part of her worried that he fell back on the same vices she knew him for. She didn't even know if he recovered but Mack's presence made her wary of it all. “What a welcome back for her. First day back and she's already going to be making a killing.” There was something spiteful in her tone and she wasn't even sure if it's towards Mack or just the drugs in general. At this point, the two became married in her brain.

Bloated and rubbing at the pain ebbing in her stomach, Elodie’s jumbled thoughts of shouldn’t have gone for seconds and but I’m still hungry are hijacked by the appearance of someone that shocks the Hall into silence—when Nic brings his hands together, a mirror of some happy scenes unfurling around them, Elodie follows up his movement with a half-hearted clapping of her hands, confusion streaked across her post-eating flushed face. What, or who, are we celebrating?

Got kicked out last year f’r sellin’ drugs.


Elodie promptly ceases her applause, ending with a muffled, “oh, shit?”

There’s an immediate disdain for the returnee blossoming across the table, inching her eyes wider with each throwaway comment. Inadvertently, her gaze cuts to Nicolas, what did we walk into—a shake of her head—what did she walk into? Elodie glances towards the ‘she’ in question, her bleached hair framing her face in a way that exuded an effortless hippie factor.

Nic’s attention had been speared by the retreating figure of his friend, who long disappeared under a large sign that pinned the location of a nearby restroom. OhGot kicked out last year f’r sellin’ drugs. And as if looking at her would give him the confirmation that he wanted, the shaggy-haired counselor spared a glance at Mack again, before quickly throwing a, suddenly wary, look to Ellie.

What did we walk into, her expression read, and the most he could offer his fellow newcomer was a tight-lipped expression. Bullshit. Trouble. All of the above, maybe. The survivalist was clueless as to how deep history may have gone between Lou and the other woman, but his exit was telling enough. Years of friendship gave Nic the advantage of knowing that.

Afraid that he’d out Lou’s business by wearing the same concerned look for a moment longer, the burnout turned his attention back to emptying his bowl, not before throwing Mona a glance in hopes she would decipher the remnants of concern in his eyes that asked, is he going to be okay?

Ramona pushed a chunk of tomato across her plate, ignoring the uncomfortable vibration the metal tines created as they scraped against the ceramic surface. She’d eaten all she wanted to, leaving a few stray noodles to drown in the sauce that puddled at the edges. At the feeling of someone watching her, however, the farmer glanced up, meeting Nicolas’ gaze. Her eyes darted between his, noting the concern that laced them, which her own mirrored instinctually. She shrugged half-heartedly, accompanied by a sad shake of her head. I don’t know.

After everything Lou had been through, this could have been the nail in the coffin, but were they really going to lose him again so soon?

Lou splashed his face in the bathroom mirror, dabbing the droplets away with a paper towel but not before taking a long look at himself—his thumb brushing over the 5 o'clock shadow forming on his jaw. A kid came out of the restroom, nudging a stool over to the sink to wash his hands, but Lou didn’t pay him any mind. His thoughts were still tangled, trying to make sense of what the hell he’d gotten himself into by coming back. It was too late now, not technically, but the situation wasn’t bad enough to just walk away—not with no job to fall back on. The money’s good... I’m not stupid.

Just then, the kid sneakily invaded Lou’s personal space, reaching for the pocket knife sticking out of the back of his jeans. Lou hopped aside. “Aye, what the hell—kid—go dry y’r hands off!”

“What? I thought you had a toy,”
the little brat muttered, giving Lou a disgusted look before heading over to the paper towel dispenser. He grabbed a massive handful, at least ten towels, and tossed one last comment Lou’s way. “You smell like my grandpa.”

Lou watched as the door swung shut, leaving the child to disappear behind them. He stood there for a second, dumbfounded and over it. Fuckin' hell. He didn’t want to be here anymore. Stepping out through the back, he sauntered near the kitchen opening, where he spotted an old can with a couple of pens in it. He grabbed a few, testing them on a napkin until one worked. Scribbling a few words on the napkin, he stuffed it in his pocket then made his way back to his table.

Approaching his dinner party, Lou kept a fixed gaze with no desire to turn and catch even a glimpse of Mack or anyone else for that matter. He scooted his seat back into place, settling into his former spot. Underneath the table, he retrieved the napkin—gently placing it atop Mona's knee. He didn't say a word and after a moment when Mona understood the gesture, he retracted his arm.

As Lou took up his post at the end of the table once more, Ramona did her best to erase all evidence of concern from her features. He can take care of himself. The feeling of something tickling her leg beneath the table’s surface was distraction enough, drawing her attention downward. Lou had balanced a folded napkin atop her knee, and upon retrieving it, the brunette found a request scrawled inside. Mona bent the paper into place again, tucking it into the back pocket of her shorts, and nodded her silent agreement to the man.

Lou kept a friendly disposition, only one his friends might call bullshit but he was on his way out anyways. Well it’s a shame we’re not bunkmates, Nic, I got Johnny Walker under the mattress right now—and I think he’s gettin’ lonely.” He smirked, taking the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. His eyes acknowledged the three counselors as he stood to leave, “I’m gone. I’ll see you all at the sunspot.”

At his friend’s reappearance at the first table, Nic flashed a grin that displayed a message of relief. Good, he’s okay. But, the moment was fleeting as he watched Lou fish out his packet of cigarettes and turn to leave again. “Hey—what the hell—!” Mouth dropping in an ‘O’ shape as Nic watched him leave again, an exasperated and defeated sigh left his lips, though the mischief had transferred from Lou’s smirk to his own smile. Jackass, he thought as a snort of amusement escaped.

Ramona watched Lou’s retreat, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. Was it too soon to follow? She checked her watch, foot bouncing impatiently against the floor. Dinner was almost over, anyway. Fuck it. “I’ve got—” The farmer exhaled, not bothering to attempt conjuring up the tail-end of her poorly-executed excuse as she rose to her feet, gathering her dishes. “—whatever. See you.” She offered a parting wave of her free hand to her fellow counselors before darting away.

Then—whatever. See you

What?
Head flicking back up again, Nic did his best to pivot from his seated position as Mona was the next to gather her dishes and dart after Lou. “No! Mo—Mon—Ramona!” Assholes! The farmer had slipped away far too quick for the survivalist to try and grab at her wrist, nearly falling in a heap to the floor had it not been for the free hand that latched on the table’s edge quick enough to stop it.

When he looked back up, his face had been twisted with contemplation, and his eyes darted between the two girls left at his table: Clarisse and Ellie. Despite the fun time spent with them—with Ellie, especially—Nic couldn’t help the “fuck it” that escaped with his next breath before he jumped up and darted after his childhood friends.

Clarisse watched as one, two, three— all three of them stood up and left the table with little more than small parting words and not a single excuse. Though, she suspected Lou and Ramona would have a rendezvous soon to talk about something if what she saw was anything to go by. They're a little disgusting like that, teetering the line between friendliness and something more. They never failed to make a third party really feel like an outsider.

And Nicolas, who she was now gathering to be a close friend of the two at some point in their lives, hurried over to follow them. Clarisse, for her part, raised a hand to bid them farewell regardless of whether they saw it or not. Some of the campers had already begun filing out, dinnertime almost done. Her gaze moved over to her fellow counselors’ abandoned plates and she shook her head.

“I can clean up,” Clarisse told Elodie with a small shrug, seemingly used to it. “You can go on ahead if you want. Truth or Dare isn't until a few but if you need the prep…” She gestured to the door before giving her a wave as she stood up and began to collect the leftover plates on the table.

cast:
location:
camp evergreen, dining hall

 
Table Two

dinner group post
W
hen Bodie fully stood, his tailbone ached in the worst way. He looked down at his bed, having thrown his bag on top of it while another bag had been rudimentarily shoved underneath. The canvas duffle poked out as the top of a vodka bottle peaked up and said, “hello.”

He’d been stuck on a bus for nearly twelve hours. From here to Portland was much shorter. It seemed as if fate itself had conspired to make him late. Though he wondered what he was hurrying for. Being here without Renee and Paige was like being here without shoes. What was the point? Those feelings of loss had started to heal, but once he stepped inside the camp, they became raw again. Not to mention—no he didn’t want to think about that now. One problem at a time, he told himself.

Bodie was never one to abide by a dress code. Wearing loose-fitting green pants that led down to high-rise chucks provided the foundation for a very bright button-up. It looked as if all the carebears had taken acid and barfed all over it. And he was about four buttons down before he started fastening it, allowing the top part of his chest to show. While Bodie couldn’t say he was as trim as all the guys that wandered around here, forgetting to pose for the magazines they came out of, he wasn’t bad to look it. Shaggy brown hair that was neatly kept, a well-groomed beard, deep eyes, long lashes, broad shoulders, and large hands. And you know what they say about a guy with large hands—he needs equally large gloves.

Dinner was just starting when he arrived, so he thought he’d make his way to the dining hall first. He checked the seating assignment on the corkboard and made a face. “I don’t know you, or you, you’re meh, oh Juliette.” The last name brought a slight smile to his lips.

He went to the table and plopped down; some early bird kids had already arrived. They looked at him with trepidation and concern as if he’d moseyed from under the nearest bridge to snatch them up. “I’m Bodie,” he said. “One of the counselors.” He leaned in. “And the only fun one. If you want to get in on some possible potato gun action, meet me tomorrow for arts and crafts.” He gave a wide wink, and the kids smiled. They might have thought he was joking. Bodie never joked about such serious matters as exploding things.

Hugo stomps into the Dining Hall, intending to grab his plate of dinner and make a swift exit. The groundskeeper preferred to keep himself scarce since the opening summer of Camp resulted in a report—against him—and the scarred side of his face being ‘abhorrent’ for campers to look at.

Pulling the sleeves of his sticky sweater down his arms, Hugo sweeps his gaze over the counsellors that had begun to gather—and can’t help as his feet carry him forward once they land on Bodie. “Didn’t think you’d be showin’ up.”

It wasn’t an unpleasant sight to see—he hardly expected Renee's troupe to linger after her departure—but he sits heavily in the seat across from Bodie, uncaring for the responding flinch of campers beside him. The Evergreens’ rule over camp never sat well with him, but Renee was family, all things considered. Hugo sniffs gruffly at the oddly sentimental thought, folding his arms on the table. Better keep these ones happy, the groundskeeper decides with a quick glance at Bodie and his less than ideal attire. Keep her memory alive.

Miriam skimmed over the list of who was supposed to sit at her table, not recognizing any of the names save Hugo and Zarina. Hmm, looks like I’ll get to see Nic’s dad. Wonder if he remembers me? Of his parents, she had always had a fondness for Trish, but she didn’t exactly hate Hugo; she just wasn’t as familiar with him, and she found his gruff manner more intense than Trish’s more friendly personality. So she walked toward the table with mixed feelings, though she was largely just curious. She wished she could sit near the people she actually knew instead of having to deal with mostly strangers, but at worst it would hopefully be interesting gossip for Nic and Ezzy.

She sat down near a couple of kids she recognized from her nature activity, greeting them with a small smile. Miriam was by no means the kind of person who liked children, but she had to admit that some of the kids here weren’t all that bad. Already, they might be growing on her, though she would never say that outright. Zarina seemed like the kind of person who was good with kids, but Miriam supposed she would find out soon enough.

“Hey,” Miriam greeted the other adults simply, giving a slight nod. She crossed her legs, wondering when Zarina was going to show up. Right now it appeared she was the only woman at the table, a ratio she didn’t love. She supposed she would just have to wait for the others and see.

Recognising faces wasn’t Hugo’s strongest suit—the introduction of the woman, one that seemed to be dipped head to toe in a fountain of ink, was oddly familiar; looks like Nicolas, the groundskeeper settles on with a dismissive shake of his head, forced into a nod of acknowledgement as she settled. Must be it.

“Evenin’,” he grumbles a greeting.

After leaving the Amphitheater, Zarina had taken her time walking back to her cabin, enjoying the slight breeze and the quiet. The first part of the day had passed by in a whirlwind and she was ready for her moment’s peace before what was sure to be an eventful night. She returned to the cabin, surprised to find Leilani there. She briefly showed her her costume and gently laid the dress on the bed, smoothing it out before resting the crown on top of it.

She excused herself to take a quick shower so she wouldn’t be in the way while everyone got ready for Truth or Dare – she could imagine a cabin full of girls all vying for the bathroom at once and shuddered. After, she sat on her bunk and journaled, occasionally talking to Lani, until dinner. As dinner time came, the two of them made their way to the dining hall, parting ways at the cork board with promises to meet up later when they discovered that they weren’t sitting together again.

However, Zarina was excited to see that she was at a table with Miriam, and happily walked over to the table, searching for where the goth girl sat.

“Hey, stranger!” she said as she plopped in a chair a couple of seats down from Miriam, the early kids already filling in the seats closest to her. Zarina made eye contact with one of the kids who’d been at swimming class earlier, sitting next to the giant of a man who she’d seen the morning before getting off the bus, and waved at her.

Miriam smiled at Zarina’s words, giving a small, nonchalant wave back. Or what she hoped counted as a nonchalant wave, anyway. Having Zarina here felt like a ray of sunlight, and she enjoyed her cheery presence despite the obvious differences between them.

“Hey Zarina,” she said, glad to see the girl in question sit so close to her. Maybe she actually would end up making some friends here–everyone seemed so nice. Though that didn’t completely ease her suspicions of their true motives, she was at least comfortable that Zarina seemed genuinely nice. Leilani too, though Miriam was certain she was hiding something.

Hugo was helpless to avoid the exchange, his searching and weary eyes travelling between the newest arrivals—and turned his attention to Bodie, muttering, “Soon enough, we’ll be replaced.” A notion he wouldn’t mind seeing come to pass.

Sooner than later, he inwardly adds and reluctantly peers over the heads of campers to jerk his chin at the new girl cheerfully waving at the Nicolas-Look-Alike. “Name?”

Bodie nodded sagely at what Hugo said to him. “Though honestly, they’d have a hard time replacing someone as handsome as you. Did you do something new with your hair?” It might have seemed mocking coming from the mouth of anyone but Bodie, but he sounded genuinely complimentary. Hugo was a foundational pillar of the camp, and Bodie couldn’t imagine anyone replacing him. This place would probably descend into chaos, madness, and cannibalism without him. However, the latter would definitely be a personal choice. “It looks nice.”

Guffawing at the compliment, Hugo almost slaps the table in his heartiness—refraining solely as the campers around him would get the fright of their life, that would be fucken funny to see, he nods at Bodie, appreciating the sentiment. “The scar gives me a natural cowlick. Works out some days.”

He then turned his attention to the two new counselors that sat down. One had to be Zarina, and the other was Miriam. They were as different as night and day. “I’m Bodie,” he said with a big shit-eating grin. “I’ve been here almost as long as Leon, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m way cooler. The stick in my ass only goes halfway up and has googly eyes on it.”

Miriam gave Bodie a once-over before responding. He seemed friendly, but she couldn’t quite tell if it was genuine or not. She did tend to be suspicious of overly nice people at first, but maybe he would grow on her as quickly as Zarina and Leilani had. Only time would tell, she supposed. She really hoped Nic and Ezzy were as eager to recount their interactions today as she was.

“Miriam,” she responded simply with a nod. “Good to know you’ve been to Arts and Crafts.” Her voice had a sarcastic edge, but then again, she tended to be sarcastic quite frequently, so it might have been expected.

Bodie chuckled. “Oh yeah. I run Arts and Crafts so… I got the fancy googly eyes.” Sarcasm was a second language to Bodie, along with Latin. He spoke it fluently. It had been Renee’s love language.

Zarina’s cheerfulness faltered as the giant man turned his attention onto her, bluntly requesting her name. As their eyes met, she fully registered his grisled features for the first time. Though she’d seen him in passing the day before, her embarrassment of being on the bus of campers had clouded her perception. Zarina wasn’t one to judge others based on their looks, but she couldn’t help the initial feeling of shock as she took in his appearance, large and intimidating. Nervously, she dropped her hand towards the table, where she fidgeted with the hair tie on her wrist.

Her moment of hesitation didn’t last long as the counselor sitting next to him made him laugh heartily, breaking his intimidating illusion. Zarina snorted – the imagery of Bodie’s joke was enough to break the tension she was feeling, and she was grateful for it.

“Oh, I’m Zarina!” she said in response to both men, making sure to meet the yet-unnamed man’s eyes and give him a warm smile. At least tonight’s company seemed a bit cheerier than her last table arrangement – hopefully that meant no repeat of the previous night’s fight.

“Hugo,” the groundskeeper responds warmly, appreciative that the newcomer didn’t shy away from his rough demeanour—only to twist his mouth to the side, a kind one, better keep an eye out for her.

She brightened at Bodie’s mention of Arts and Crafts, glancing across the room to catch a glimpse of brown hair and paint streaked hands a couple of tables over. She turned her attention back to Bodie. “Do you know Leilani, then? Arts and Crafts seems so fun, I’m jealous of anyone who can draw.”

Bodie returned her cheerfulness with a smile. “Yeah. I know her. And don’t be intimidated. I can’t draw worth crap. My specialty is the crafts section of arts and crafts. Also, acting… if we did plays anymore.”

Riley weaved through the crowd of rowdy kids heading to dinner, her shoes scuffing against the ground as the scent of vegetables and something resembling meat filled her nose the closer she got. The noise that reached her ears was the steady hum of clinking utensils, overlapping conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter from the campers. The survivalist looked over the corkboard holding the seating chart information, brown eyes skimming the names of the four people she would be sitting with and realizing the only one she actually liked and considered a companion was—Hugo. She almost wanted to lean her head back and let out a heavy sigh. Hugo almost never stuck around for dinner, which meant that she would be stuck at a table alone with people she didn't see as friends. Not the worst thing in the world but also not the greatest for someone who preferred to keep to herself. After what she'd learned at Willamina's, she would have preferred the company of her own friends.

Making her way over to the table, she noticed that she seemed to be the last to arrive, slightly taken aback at the sight of the groundskeeper at their table. Huh, that was…surprising. Wonder what made him change his mind today. Whatever it was Riley wouldn’t complain about him being there, it would be nice to have someone she actually knew and enjoyed being around in attendance. For a moment as she grew closer she even considered if it would be a good idea or not to ask him whether or not he knew who the Hal from the Willamina receipt might be. Chances were it might be a lost cause, Hugo wasn’t known for being the most social person in the world.

"Hey," She greeted casually, taking a seat next to a few kids from her survivalist group. Leaning her head against her hand she turned to look at Hugo with a curious expression. “Since when do you sit here for dinner?”

“Hey there, kiddo,” Hugo’s mood significantly brightens, easily regarding the survivalist above the heads of campers. He notes the sweater engulfing her small frame and bobs his head, “stay warm. Heard the weather is taken’ a turn tomorrow.”

He clears his throat before explaining, “dunno. Saw this one sittin’ here all alone and felt some pity. Strange, I know.” He adds with a teasing edge to his voice and a half-hearted smirk—emotions? A mistake, must be. But he wasn’t going to be blabbing his business to a table of nosy campers. They didn’t need to hear about the Evergreens and how some counsellors ‘round here would be requiring patience.

“Really?” Riley glanced down at her sweater, tugging on the sleeves before she gave a nod of understanding, “Okay. I’ll make sure to bring the right clothes for tomorrow.” Hopefully the kids would listen as well, though Riley seriously doubted they all would, and packed warm. She could practically hear the complaints about how it was ‘Too cold!’ ringing in her ears already.

At his joke Riley had to resist the urge to lean over and playfully hit him on the arm. Instead the survivalist’s lips lifted into a smile. “So the rumors about you being a secret softie are true then, huh?” She asked, voice taking on a sarcastic but playful tone.

Pleased with Riley’s decision to dress appropriately for the upcoming downpour, Hugo grunts a sound of approval and rolls his eyes at her comment, fighting the urge to match the smile. “I’m soft somewhere,” he rubs at his stomach, glowering down at his empty plate. “Wasten’ away with each passin’ second.”

Miriam’s expression instantly soured upon seeing Riley at the table. She thought back to the list of counselors assigned here, realizing she had completely skipped over her name. I haven’t seen her since high school. Of course my luck is bad enough that she would show up here, too. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind that it could be the same girl she knew in high school. Well, Miriam’s life seemed to be a string of ill-fated coincidences. At least she had Zarina here to keep her company and help her ignore the people she wasn’t as fond of. That was the silver lining of this whole endeavor, anyway. She once again wished she could have just sat wherever so she could be with Nic and Ezzy instead of Nic’s weird dad and someone she hated.

Not the most observant, but also not the blindest bat in the woods, Hugo picks up on the fall of Miriam’s face as she glances at Riley. He considers, for only a second, not pointin’ out the obvious but—“you two know each other?”

The question catches the realist by surprise, dark brows furrowing in confusion– Know who? Riley steers her attention away from Hugo, following the man’s line of sight before her eyes land on– “Miriam.” Of course. Because the world had a messed-up sense of humor. It was bad enough that one of her friends was missing, now she had to deal with someone that she didn’t like? She hadn’t even noticed the other woman at first with her surprise and delight at seeing Hugo at the table but looking at her now made irritation creep up her spine. It wasn’t that Riley hated her, exactly. Hate took too much energy– energy she wouldn’t waste on someone she hadn’t seen in years, but the whole occult scam Miriam had going on? Riley didn’t have the patience for it.

Realizing that Hugo’s question still went unanswered the survivalist looked away from her old school mate. “I guess you could say that. We went to highschool together.” She explained. The lack of any warmth in her tone made it clear to anyone listening that whatever relationship the two women had they weren’t friends.

Bodie watched the arrival of Riley like he’d watch the arrival of a dog turd straight from the source–he paid it no mind and, if anything, cursed his lip up at it a bit. It was no surprise that he didn’t care for her. His allegiances had always been with the Evergreens. So anyone that had beef with them had beef with him. While he’d been fine to let old grudges die considering–well… everything. How she immediately curled her lip up at Miriam wouldn't go unnoticed. Considering Riley's reaction, it was so strange how he immediately decided to side with her.

“Highschool was such a long time ago, Riley. Don’t tell me you still hold tight to those playground scuffles?” Bodie then looked at the campers that had gathered.”That’s how you end up as the pathetic bad guy in a movie. But surely Riley wouldn’t be that plain, right?”

Feeling confused as to why Bodie of all people felt the need to join in on a conversation that had nothing to do with him Riley openly rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply through her knows and barely sparing the man a glance. Perhaps she should have known better, he had been friends with Renee after all. “Seriously? You’re lecturing me about high school when you’re then one acting like some self-appointed moral compass?” If she wasn’t already high strung from what Liberty had discovered earlier that day she might have just let it go and ignored him but currently she didn’t feel like it even if deep down she knew that Bodie was clearly trying to get under her skin.

Highschool? Hugo’s disinterested eyes fall, again, onto Miriam. His surprise over how small the world could be at times—especially at this corner of the map—is outweighed by a singular stand-out fact… was she dressin’ a fool like that in school too? Call him old-fashioned, a fact he was proud of, but his abhorrence to those that stood out simply came down to his own self, preferring to blend into a crowd and never being able to. Whether that was on account of his abnormal height, or the scarring on his face.

With a coloured opinion, Hugo shrugs and takes his fork in hand, hoping if he seemed prepared to eat then dinner would be served soon. “Playground scuffles are defining if you ask me,” he grumbles. “Peace and love is a load of—well… War and hate is safer.”

Miriam blinked, rolling her eyes at Hugo. “Wow, I’ve never heard anyone advocate for hate and war before. Usually it’s the other way around.” She leaned back, folding her arms as her heavily-shadowed eyes narrowed at Hugo and Riley. She was actually relieved that someone was siding with her, giving Bodie another glance as she thought about a reply. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe most of the people here weren’t–excluding Hugo and Riley of course.

“I don’t think someone agreeing with holding onto hate and war would be above being the bad guy in a movie,” Miriam responded, fully aware that other than the one comment, she may not have the moral high ground in this situation. She had been pretty fake in high school, but a girl had to get by somehow. It wasn’t as if her mom was rich, and her dad wasn’t even in the picture. At the time, selling a lie had seemed like the best way out, and though there was a part of her that understood why people would hate it, it didn’t make her any less defensive. She had changed now; she was an honest mystic and believer. Besides, she didn’t want to deal with this shit at summer camp too. It was distracting her from the reason she’d come in the first place.

Should’ve ate outside with the flies. Hugo’s eyes, trained on the open stitches of his sleeves, lifts just enough to give Bodie a stare that spoke a thousand words. Advocating was a stretch—it would be a cold day in Hell before Hugo would stand up on a shoe box in streets of Easthallow, megaphone in hand and spreading propaganda for war. “It’s only a sayin’, little witch.”

Riley let out a short, dry laugh. She turned to Miriam, leveling her with a look that was more annoyance than anger—like she couldn’t believe she actually had to engage with this nonsense over a meal she wasn’t even sure she would enjoy. It was aggravating that she had initially planned on simply ignoring Miriam for the duration of their dinner but now felt as if she was being dragged into something she’d initially had no interest in.

“Oh, right,” Riley started, voice flat. “Because that’s what was said. Hugo and I are just out here waving war flags and promoting eternal hatred. That’s definitely what happened.” She leaned back in her chair, mirroring Miriam and crossing her arms as she tilted her head. “You know, for someone who claims to be so in tune with the universe, you sure love twisting people’s words into whatever dramatic narrative you want to portray in your head.” She could feel the tension at the table, could sense the way some of the others were watching—waiting to see where this was going. But Riley didn’t care about winning some philosophical debate. Riley simply didn’t like that she was being made out to be the bad guy just because she wouldn’t fall victim to Miriam’s make believe bullshit. “So let me guess,” she continued, voice dipping into mock curiosity. “Is this the part where you tell me my ‘negative energy’ is blocking my ability to see the truth? Or— no, wait. Maybe I’ve got a cursed aura. Bad karma? Oh! Maybe my chakras are misaligned.”

Riley shook her head, reaching for her water and taking a slow sip before muttering, just loud enough for the others to hear, “Unbelievable.”

Blowing out a long exhale of air, Hugo shakes his head at Riley, ‘m the cursed one. Can’t be taken’ that one from me, Riles.” But his mouth twists upwards, the curve inevitable as the night grows more entertaining than he thought it would and a question takes root—was dinner this lively every night, or was his unapproachable personality amplifying the existing open wounds?

“How does one get chakras, hm? Do I have ‘em already?” A camper’s widened eyes captures his attention. He tilts his scarred face towards them, expression hardened as well as amused, “well, do I?”

The callous exchange between the two girls made Zarina uncomfortable – she nervously tapped her cup with her fingertips as she listened to the words the new girl spat at Miriam and couldn’t help but wonder about the history of the two – she truthfully didn’t know much about Miriam, just that she’d been nice in their earlier exchange, and the stuff the new girl was saying intrigued her.

Was she just stereotyping her because she was goth? Seemed rather personal for that, but Zarina tried not to seem like she was staring as more words were exchanged. She’d never liked getting in the middle of things and wouldn’t know how to defend someone she’d just met, but the other girl's rant seemed kind of harsh.

Instead of getting caught up in the drama, she found herself glancing around, hoping for some kind of rescue from the hostile environment, like the food arriving or… anything to interrupt so that Zarina wouldn’t be in the middle of another public explosion at dinner. Was this an everyday occurrence at this camp, or was some cruel act of fate giving her exposure therapy to the negative attention?

Miriam rolled her eyes back at Riley. Two could play at that game. While she could admit that her motivations for getting into spirituality had been a bit less than wholesome at first, she wasn’t that person anymore. It was a bit infuriating that this was quickly turning into an argument, but she would be lying if she said it wouldn’t make for interesting conversation with Nic later. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure she had a good comeback for this one, considering Riley did kind of get her with the snarky comments. But that had never stopped Miriam from speaking before. In fact, she had a bad habit of her mouth moving before her brain could catch up.

“You and Hugo tag-teaming me isn’t exactly the ideal of peace and love, so forgive me if I’ve gotten the wrong idea here,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “And your aura is pretty muddy and gross, so.” She shrugged. She didn’t actually think she could see Riley’s aura–her “abilities” didn’t really do much in the way of actual practicality, and were really more of a keen sense of observation than anything else–but if she was being called out, she was going to bring Riley down with her. Miriam did have a talent for pissing people off when she wanted to get under their skin, and sometimes even without that intent. What could she say? It was a gift.

Muddy and gross. “We’re at a camp. Who fu—mmph, who ain’t got a ‘muddy aura’?” Hugo quips. He twists the fork around in his hand, stomach grumbling in protest. Brushing off the assumption of ‘tag-teaming’ came easily, too agitated by the lack of food on his plate to care for the direction of the tense conversation.
Riley blinked at Miriam, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Did she actually just say that? Riley heard better comebacks from the children she taught.

“Oh no,” she deadpanned, tapping her fingers against her crossed arms. “Not my muddy aura. However, will I go on?” Riley proclaimed dramatically, glancing over to Hugo as if asking the older man if he could believe this was actually happening right now. “Look, if you’re gonna try and insult me, at least pick something based in reality. Call me stubborn. Call me an asshole. Call me mean if it makes you feel better,” Hell, Miriam could call Riley a bitch if she wanted to and the brunette would take it on the chin. “But ‘gross aura’? What does that even mean? Do I have bad spiritual hygiene? Should I be using some sort of special soap?” Riley waved a hand vaguely in the air as if she was cleansing her vibe before setting it back down onto her lap. “But whatever. Tell yourself what you need to feed into whatever delusion you have going on in your head.”

If I gotta behave, you do too, Hugo cuts Riley a half-hearted warning look at her Freudian slip, pivoting it to the campers around them. “Don’t be repeatin’ grown up words,” he grumbles, the tone of his words sharp as a knife. “You’s are too young to know what they damn mean.” He wasn’t too fussed about campers witnessing the spiralling argument, however, choosing to cut into the conversation with, “the ‘spiritual soap’ better have beeswax in it. ‘M allergic to anythin’ else.”

Riley shrugs her shoulders at Hugo’s warning stare but decided she would make a conscious effort not to curse again around the kids even though they all knew most of them probably sweared in private more than they did. “My bad.” She mouths, willing to apologize to him and him only.

Bodie had used Riley’s tirade to try to distract the kids from her losing her mind on Miriam. They hadn’t even sat down yet, and already Riley was acting as if everyone barbequed her cat. Also, he narrowed his eyes at her when she started discussing how spirituality was a farce. Sure, not all religion and worship looked the same, but that didn’t mean it didn’t help someone find their inner peace.

Noise and movement grabs his attention. Fucken’ finally. “Juliette,” he stands up to greet the new-blonde approaching them, juggling serving plates with only two arms of support. “Hand ‘em over and squeeze in. Missin’ out on a show.”

The new cook couldn’t wait to get out of the kitchen, relieved that she had caught the seating list beforehand—it gave her a heads up on what she was walking into. Juliette didn’t care where she sat; anything was better than being outside, where she was usually exiled whenever campers—and even some counselors—got a little too mean spirited towards the techie. Bodie was always awesome company and she was happy he was back, and Riley was whatever, but—

“At least I can meet new people.”

She ditched Evergreen without a second glance—she could figure things out on her own. With that, Juliette made her way toward her assigned table, opting to serve them last to make her job a little easier.

As she closed the distance, her gaze immediately landed on Hugo’s unmistakable frame. A flicker of familiarity rushed through her, and she instinctively quickened her pace, calling out his name just as he noticed her.

“Hugo! Aren’t we lucky?” she mused, offering a quiet thank you as she passed out the hot tray. Then, without hesitation, she slid into the open space beside him, her eyes not missing the glaring gap between him and the other campers. Jerks. “What’s the special occasion, hm?”

“Saw this one on his lonesome,” his eyes land on Bodie as he stresses the words, too busy gesturing with haphazard shakes of his head for the campers to move the clutter on the table and make some room for the serving trays. “Figured I’d grace the table with my boundless energy for a minute or two.”

Thank god for that. Settling into her seat, Juliette let out a quiet sigh, her hands instinctively flying up to adjust her hair and smooth her top before resting on her jeans, where she began fiddling with the hem. Her gaze flickered to Bodie, who sat across from her, and she offered him a genuine grin, leaning forward in her seat. Then, arching a brow, she pointed a polished nail at him.

“Sneaky, you. I was beginning to worry you were going to be a no show this session.” Her voice was light, teasing—though the weight of her unspoken thoughts lingered. Considering…Renee’s missing.

Overwhelmed by thoughts of the Evergreens and barely managing to hold her tongue, the blonde quietly cleared her throat. “I’ve…met Harper Evergreen today,” she muttered, smacking her lips as she popped the p in the girl’s name, as if the taste of it was unpleasant.

Juliette surprised him. For a second, he thought she was Renee or Paige. That blonde hair glistening in the light of the Dining Hall gave his chest such a nasty ache that he almost grabbed it in retaliation. No. It was just Juliette. “Not sneaky. My bus just died three times while trying to get here. I’m beginning to think it was a sign,” Bodie remarked from the side of his mouth. “Nice hair, by the way. Very… fields of wheat.”

He was about to say something else before Juliette remarked about Harper. His spine went stiff and the color that usually decorated his cheeks fled. “Ha-” was all he got out, the rest of her name died on his lips.

The memory of Harper’s complaints of getting on her ‘hands and knees’ as his lower body screamed in protest to retrieve a fucken’ map comes floating to mind. Hugo grumbles, “hmpf, lucky us.”

Some luck. Nice hair, by the way. A faint smile formed on the blonde’s lips, a relieved expression visible in her eyes. “Thank you.” Then, she pushed herself to her feet—she’d barely been seated for two seconds, but she was already restless, jittery. Seriously, who invited her here?

“Should we start serving? I think we should. Hope I’m not late,”
she exhaled, blowing away a loose strand of hair that had fallen in her face. Rather than instructing the campers to form a single file line, she decided to keep things simple, gesturing for the others to pass down a plate. “So,” she added, glancing around, “what did I miss exactly?”

“Wouldn’t be tippin’ you’s for any punctuality,” Hugo chides, forcefully dipping a ladle into the helping of spaghetti and waving at the nearest camper to hold their bowl out. Chop to it before I eat from the fucken’ ladle. “Grab a spoon and help me out, guppy.”

Warmed by the familiar nickname, Juliette felt a flicker of ease settle in her chest, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a little. She focused on helping the campers, holding out plates for them to pass along.

Grabbing an extra ladle, she picked up the pace. “Figured we’d all want dinner to be over and done with,” she remarked, keeping her tone light. Her gaze briefly flicked to Riley, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She can serve herself.

The hell is her problem? Riley’s eyes flickered over to Juliette, one brow arching in a show that she was unimpressed by the blonde’s unwarranted move.

What did I miss exactly? Hugo makes a show of looking at each counsellor, staring hard and expectantly. “No one wants to reveal the fun we’re havin’ over here? Fine.” He, heavy-handedly, slaps pasta and sauce onto a plate in Juliette’s waiting hands and points with his now empty ladle at Riley. That one knows this one—a witch, from what I’ve been gatherin’—and neither has a sense of fondness for the other. This one,” he now points at Zarina, sauce flicking across the table, also knows the witch—looks like we’re the only ones in the dark along with Bodie over ‘ere.”

Juliette frowned at the slight splatter of tomato sauce, red specks dotting her bare arms. She hesitated for a moment before timidly passing the plate along—but not before generously ladling extra sauce over the spaghetti. It’s…just sauce. No biggie.

Trying her best to stay focused on the conversation, she occasionally flashed apologetic glances at the campers whenever Hugo’s sharp tone cut through the chatter. But as the topic shifted, something made her pause.

“A witch?” Her brows lifted. “What, like a…Wiccan?” She shot Bodie a curious look before her bright eyes drifted toward the newcomers, naturally settling on the one with the darker aesthetic.

Miriam rolled her eyes, not thrilled that this was the topic of discussion again. She’d had quite enough of denying the witch accusations during high school and the years afterward, thank you very much. But she was too busy getting herself food to respond immediately.

Cutting through the silence after his ramble comes to an end is Hugo’s stomach, roaring at the sight of campers stuffing their faces, and he sits down, heavily, in protest. “Sit down, guppy and eat. We ain’t gettin’ paid to fill their plates, only keepin’ ‘em alive for two weeks.”

Bodie laughed at Hugo’s joke before turning to Juliette. “I don’t think Miriam is a witch. I just think Riley has an antiquated view on how spirituality affects people differently.” He leaned forward as if pretending to whisper, but he wasn’t. “She might try to burn you at the stake for performing such malaligned witchcraft on your hair.” He placed a hand dramatically on his brow. “Thou hast committed the most grave of sins, forming a pact with the Devil in hopes of understanding what the dark books say: blondes doeth have more fun.”

Then, he stood, chuckling to himself, going to grab some food. Ever since he’d given up smoking last year, he’d relied heavily on the oral fixation of eating to keep him off of it. And right now he was seven levels of stressed and wanted something in his mouth.

Taking her seat, her attention drifted, locking on to Bodie instead. The moment he spoke, Juliette leaned in expediently, antiquated? She scoffed, rolling her eyes just out of the survivalist’s view. “Shocker.”

Amusement flickered in her gaze as Bodie inched forward, and she instinctively stilled, hanging onto his words. But as he continued, laughter bubbled up inside her, shaking her shoulders in silent amusement, realizing she missed him.

Feeling playful, she seized the opportunity to mess around. “And yet, dear sir, despite thy warnings, I remain unscorched!” She tossed her hair with an exaggerated flourish. “Dost thou, too, wish to know the secrets of golden haired revelry?”

Bringing a hand up to her mouth, she stifled a snicker. “This is what I get for spending too much time near Thomas’ drama sessions. Should’ve taken over instead.”

Miriam snorted at the joke–yeah, she was definitely enjoying the company of these two more than Hugo and Riley. Even if she wasn’t the most chatty in group discussions, she could appreciate people who didn’t take things as seriously as Riley, a slightly hypocritical thought considering how serious Miriam could be at times. But she couldn’t deny that their jumping in to defend Miriam–or more likely, to annoy Riley–did incentivize her to like them more.

“If you’re burning at the stake for going blonde, I can’t imagine that I would be okay with the blue streaks in mine.” She laughed.

“I think the streaks are a nice touch.”

Riley didn’t react at first, instead watching Bodie with a flat, unimpressed stare, letting his over-the-top theatrics play out without so much as a blink. The moment he began to leave to grab his food, she let out a sharp breath—more scoff than laugh—before leaning forward to grab a ladle, making herself her own serving of spaghetti and sauce.

“Yeah, yeah. Go fuel up, Shakespeare. All that unnecessary conclusion jumping and running your mouth has to burn a ton of calories.” Her tone was dry, edged with something dangerously close to amusement, but there was no real warmth behind it. She wasn’t about to waste her energy defending herself to someone who had already decided what to think of her. Let him have his little performance. Riley wasn’t in the habit of giving people like him the satisfaction of thinking they’d actually gotten under her skin.

Noticing that someone near the other end of the table had yet to speak, Juliette bit the inside of her cheek, debating for a moment before deciding it wouldn’t be weird to reach out. Might as well get to know people, right?

Poking her head past Hugo’s view, her gaze landed on a darker toned woman. “Which one are you? Miriam or Zarina?” she asked with a friendly smile, fingers curling around her fork, though her food remained untouched and entirely forgotten.

Zarina was thankful for the disruption when the blonde girl approached the table with a new energy (and the food – she suddenly realized she was starving). She watched the familiar exchange between both Hugo and Bodie – she must be a returning counselor – and tried to wrack her brain to remember the names of the people at the table, but realized that she’d really just seen Miriam’s name and ran with it.

She shrank under Hugo’s gaze as he addressed each counselor, feeling guilty even though she hadn’t even been part of the argument, and looked down at the table for a moment before jumping a bit in surprise as Hugo’s flicked sauce landed in front of her on the table. Well, she didn’t exactly know Miriam, but… even if she was a witch, Zarina wasn’t sure she cared. She didn’t get everything, but chakras were something she understood.

Though with the way Riley had been talking about them, she wasn’t sure if they did. Wouldn’t that make Miriam a Hindu more than a witch? Perhaps chakras were something different in America. Still, she didn’t want to throw herself in the line of fire to correct them and watched Bodie and Juliette’s dramatic act with relieved interest – at least the tension had been broken.

She then followed suit, grabbing a bowl and serving herself. Before she could take a bite, a voice addressed her and she glanced towards the other end of the table, where the blonde woman was looking at her expectantly. “Oh, I’m Zarina! I’m the new lifeguard… I didn’t catch your name?”

Beaming as the name finally clicked into place, Juliette lifted a hand in a timid wave from her end of the table, entirely oblivious—or simply careless—to the fact that they were about to hold a conversation over everyone else.

“I’m Juliette,” she introduced with an easy smile, fingers lightly drumming against the table. “I used to be the lifeguard—uh, last year.”

For a fleeting second, something passed across her expression, the tiniest shift in her brows, a slight downturn at the edges of her lips. She held back from openly reacting, but the disappointment was still there. It still stung that she wasn’t able to return as one this year—because of reasons.

“But now, I’m the camp’s personal cook.” Her tone was lighter, lifting with forced amusement. She perked up slightly, leaning forward just a bit, nudging Hugo. “How’s Joey as a partner?” A genuine warmth entered her voice as she added, “She’s the best.”

Hugo shoots the former lifeguard a look. Watch it, Guppy. There’s no real vitriol in the exchange other than a low grumble, quickly muffled as he shoves another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

“Sorry,” the blonde said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t at all, as she leaned in once again, her elbow nudging into Hugo’s. Conversation will be quick, just excited.

Zarina offered an equally timid wave back to the blonde and was excited to realize that this was the Juliette. It was good to have a name to the face, and she felt like she’d already heard so much about her, between Joey and the camper. The fondness Joey used to speak of her eased Zarina’s anxiety in the interaction, and she nodded at Juliette’s statement about being the lifeguard. “Oh, Joey told me about you! Seems you were quite the lifeguard,” she pointed at her spaghetti for emphasis, “And cook, too!”

She’s the best. Zarina nodded in agreement. “I enjoy working with Joey! She’s so fun.” She took a bite of her spaghetti thoughtfully, wondering briefly why Juliette had stopped being a lifeguard, if perhaps there were some sore spots in that regard. Should she be treading lightly, or had it just been a change of scenery? “How do you like being the cook? It seems like such a big job.”

“Works for me.” Hugo swallows deeply, giving a look of surprised appreciation to the concoction on his dish. Juliette and Harper may as well stay through to the end of summer and help him clean up the aftermath of the two week session if it meant eating this good.

Warmed by the praises, the techie let out an earnest giggle, waving off the compliments with a hand. “Luckily, we had an extra pair of hands—three in the kitchen. Don’t know what this camp was thinking, starting the summer with only one cook.” She rolled her eyes playfully before letting a smile slip through, though her eye twitched slightly at the lifeguard comment— but you brought it up first. “Yeah, lifeguarding, really miss it. The water’s lovely here…just not past five.”

Leaning forward again, invested in the conversation and curious about the newbie, Juliette continued, talking about how overwhelming cooking can be with so many mouths to feed. Still, she admitted that the kitchen’s aesthetic kept her sane. “It’s really pretty, you should visit sometime.” She pointed upwards with a finger, indicating that it was right above them.

“I couldn’t imagine being the only cook,” Zarina said, dramatically wiping a fake bead of sweat from her brow. Juliette seemed nice – she could see why Joey liked her, why the campers questioned her absence. She almost felt guilty for taking her old position, wondering what could have happened to make the cook change positions if she missed it. Not past five? That’s… ominous. She filed that away to inquire about later – she didn’t want to pry at a potential sore spot for Juliette, but if there was some kind of weird time sensitive lake monster, she wanted to know.

“Oh, I’d love to see the kitchen some time! Do you guys ever need volunteers?” she joked, genuinely interested in helping out in the kitchen sometime if they’d let her.

“Tell me about it.” Mirroring Zarina’s action, Juliette wiped her arm across her forehead, as if brushing away invisible sweat, mirth bright in her eyes.

But at the sudden offer of help, her expression shifted—blue eyes widening in something close to relief. Half tempted to reach out and grab Zarina’s hands despite the distance, she barely held herself back.

Please, don’t leave me alone with a fake Evergreen was right there on the tip of her tongue.

Instead, what came out was far more enthusiastic. “Yes! That would be so much fun,” she rushed, excitement bubbling up. “Could always use the extra pair of hands around this joint.”

Bodie returned to his seat with a heaping serving of spaghetti, still chuckling over his and Juliette’s act. If Riley thought she could get under his skin, she’d have to try harder. He ran with Renee and Paige Evergreen; being their friend was like diving into a bramble bush with just your birthday suit on–it was very prickly. But he couldn’t lie; Renee knew how to run this camp. She made everyone fixate on her as the bad guy, so they didn’t have time to turn in on themselves. Now, it was anarchy. Bodie didn’t quite have the resolve to put himself in that place. A weak part of himself always liked to be liked–not by everyone, but by most.

He smiled at Hugo. He’d have to ask the big man later how he was doing. Not here. Not in front of everyone. Maybe later when Bodie went to see Macaroni. Sure, he’d get hives. But the hives were worth it to pet that dog.

Eat, Is-I-Dore,” Hugo instructs Bodie with a sharp point of his fork. It wasn’t only his job to gruffly remind the campers of how to be a human at the most fundamental level—a task he struggled with when he was left behind between sessions, caring for the camp over his needs—but, to instruct counsellors when to take a step back from responsibilities. Not a job he was so inclined to make a habit out of.

Down to the last fork of noodles, Hugo hears the cry of Mack! and bobs his head. Finally freed from Eva’s demands. He doesn’t bother turning around to regard her entrance—the swimmer came back each summer looking as if she’d never left in the first place. He cocks a hairless brow at the table. Go ‘head and share your opinions.

Miriam looked at the newcomer with interest, unsure what exactly her reappearance meant, but based on the general mood as she had entered the room, Miriam figured her return must be significant. She glanced around the table, curiosity in her gaze as she took in everyone else’s expressions.

Bodie barely had a moment to register how Hugo had pronounced his last name before someone exclaimed, “Mack!” in the dining hall. His head whipped around quickly, to the point that it was fair to say he’d given himself whiplash. “Woo! Mack-Attack!” he yelled, having cupped his hands over his mouth to be heard over the dull murmur of the Dining Hall. He made no apologies for the loudness of his words.

A sudden exclamation stole Juliette’s attention, the lingering silence that followed making her lift her head in confusion. What’s going on? Her gaze flickered around the dining hall, only to freeze when she caught the name—Mack.

Bodie’s little nickname for her didn’t go unnoticed, but the cook barely registered it. She’s…back? Swallowing, she pushed herself up slightly from the table, trying to get a better look. Because of her shortness, she nearly considered climbing onto her chair for a better vantage point, but instead turned to Hugo with urgency.

“Hugo, quick! She’s still rocking the braids?”

“Oh, for—”
Hugo shrugs off Juliette’s insistent poking at his arms. He tosses a single careless glance at Mack, lasting half a second, only to gruffly respond, “I ain’t taken any notice of her hair. Unless she dyed it a new shade.” He adds with a self-satisfied smirk, poking the side of her head where the blonde overpowered the natural ginger.

Rude. Six-foot-seven and for what?” Dismissing the poke, she decided to crane her neck to see. When the moment passed and a few counselors moved to greet Mack, Juliette took that as her cue that dinner was over. Standing, she immediately busied herself with gathering the plates of those who were finished, letting her hands work while her thoughts raced.

“Wonder if she’s still part of swimming, considering…” She trailed off, not needing to finish. Most people knew what Mack had gotten in trouble for.

Riley looked away from her food when the loud yell of ‘Mack!’ reached her ears. The brunette allowed her fork to drop from her hands as she turned her head in surprise, arms lifting to cross over her chest as she took in one of the few people she had been convinced wouldn’t show back up— or rather she was surprised that Mack had even been allowed back after what happened the year before. Juliette spoke her mind before the survivalist could but truthfully she didn’t have much to say regarding the stoner’s return to camp. She and Mack weren’t friends, never had been and frankly the survivalist wasn’t her biggest fan either. Guess Jonathon must be in a forgiving mood this year. At least dinner was over now.

Zarina was surprised mid bite by a voice calling out in front of the Dining Hall, and then Bodie calling out Mack-Attack! She turned in the direction Bodie was looking to see a newcomer standing in the middle of the room and a variety of reactions from around the room. Unfamiliar with the people and camp politics, Zarina noted the extreme reaction the girl elicited – from counselors jumping up to greet her to stiff posture and eye rolls. She wondered – did dinner here ever end without some kind of strange disruption?

As Juliette started gathering plates, Zarina jumped up to help her, like she had Leilani the night before, starting a stack of her own to carry to the dish pit. Wonder if she’s still part of swimming. This caught Zarina’s attention and she looked over at Juliette, curiosity now too great to hold back her questions. “Oh, was she a swim counselor, too?”

“Oh!”
Spinning on her heel, Juliette nearly bumped into Zarina, her own stack of plates wobbling slightly in her hands. Blue eyes flickered downwards, noticing the other woman’s own pile, and she was admittedly touched by the gesture.

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to—I know now’s the best time to actually get ready for tonight.” She let out a soft laugh, attempting to shush Zarina playfully despite her full hands. “It’s a big ol’ secret around here.”

At the mention of Mack’s role for the summer, Juliette gave an easy nod. “Yeah, swimming. She’s…always been around, except last year. But—” Her expression shifted, a gleam of amusement flickering in her gaze as she turned toward Zarina.

“I’m sure that’ll come out during truth or dare,” she added with a knowing grin. “Stay tuned.”

cast:
location:
camp evergreen, dining hall

 
Last edited:
table four

dinner group post
L
eon continued to mull over his conversation with Juliette, unable—or unwilling—to shake off the impression there was more that changed than the coloured strands of her hair.

It played on the Supervisor’s mind as he dropped off the orange ascot in his cabin, tying the fabric in a loose knot around the post of his bunk, and all the way to the Lodge to collect the dinner placements—the realisation only landing as he placed each laminated paper on the respective tables, the techie’s sly smile and staunch refusal for him to get another word in springing to mind.

Jesus,” he lets the final seating fall from his grasp, slapping onto the table. Part of him suspected when he first saw Juliette that she was compensating for the loss of Renee in her life—but it felt deeper. How could the timid lifeguard switch into someone so tactful, like a light switch being flipped on? Or, he considers, glancing at the kitchen door, like Juliette was powered off?

He couldn’t fathom her being at odds with anyone from the group that accompanied her into Easthallow. Johanna and Bonnie were bonded to her from sheer friendliness, Clarisse through the thread of Renee, Annie… he couldn’t be certain, but their dynamic must’ve been held by something through the Evergreen’s influence—and Kayden never seemed to like anyone.

Connie… “No chance,” Leon brushes it off with a dismissive shake of his head and pulling away from standing idle between the row of tables, frozen with his own confusion. Connie, him, Juliette… even Johanna—he inwardly rolls his eyes—their bond was unique, forged from endless afternoons on the Lake, some of the most memorable and fun experiences he was sure to think of decades from now. “Can’t be Con, not a chance.”

He’s still whispering the words under his breath an hour later as campers file past him where he’s posted at the door, forgoing the headcount altogether. Thirty-one, thirty-two—who did Connie sit with at orientation?—thirty…six? Thirty-seven, thirty-eight—did Juliette walk back into camp with her, or was she alone? Leon counts roughly to a hundred campers and abandons the task, knowing it wasn’t like Renee counted them either, and sits at his table. He musters up the small talk he was known for with the campers without registering their responses.

Leon—the Supervisor, overloaded not by responsibilities he was well-versed with, but the concern of two close friends at odds—was eerily still, a rare sight to see. He raps his knuckles on the table absently, a feeble attempt to ground him from flying into a spiral of overthinking.

Marquis spent the entire walk to the dining hall trying to shake off the disaster of a time he had at the Med Bay. He wanted to blame Alton, but then the jerk had to go and be nice to him, which meant Marquis would end up being the jerk if he blamed him. HE could never blame Livia for anything. And Libby had barely been there, so it couldn’t have been her fault. There was one thing he knew for certain though, beyond any and every shadow of doubt: it most certainly wasn’t his fault. It simply couldn’t be.

Needless to say, his attempts at moving past the negativity that weighed on him like a cloak were not very successful. However, arriving at the doors of the dining hall, he knew that he couldn’t carry that in with him. And, even if he did, others weren’t allowed to see it. He had a reputation to uphold.

Just before entering, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, tried a bunch of different smiles on until he found one that felt natural enough to be believable, and then made his way in.

His eyes quickly scanned to see who he’d be seating with, but he saw his name at the same table as Leon and didn’t bother reading further. After all, he could see Leon from here. And saw, with that smile on his face, a casual - albeit forced - bounce to his step and a big wave, he called out to the supervisor as he walked over.

“Leon! What’s u-” He was cut off when he took in Leon’s countenance. Leon looked the way Quis felt and that was saying a lot. Quis’ eyes quickly flitted from one camper’s head to the other. They didn’t seem to be misbehaving, but neither did they seem to know something was off with Leon and he didn’t want to be the one to break the news to them. He continued as he was saying, though his jovial and uppity tone had been switched out for one more measured and empathetic. “What’s up, chief?”

A welcome distraction in the form of Marquis startles the Supervisor from his thoughts. He knocks his knuckles one last time on the table before plastering a grin on his face, leaning away from the surface.

“Oh—nothing much,” he lies, figuring his smile comes off comically candid. “Been a long day. How was Med-Bay with…” Alton, Leon swallows the name before his tone reveals any true feelings to the campers. “Any hiccups with the kids?”

Quis’ eyes narrowed slightly, probingly, at Leon. However, he didn’t press the matter too much further, knowing that he too had matters of his own he wished not to discuss and had hoped to use Leon as an escape. Perhaps Leon was simply hoping Marquis could do the same for him.

“Long for sure; too long. Ready for some good food and a good night’s sleep.” He took a seat opposite Leon, eyes briefly scanning the rest of the crowd as more people filtered in. This was all he wanted. A camp that felt normal. A small smile on his face, he turned back towards Leon, shrugging ogg the question about the kids. “Just one. Nothing major; some tummy problems.”

With a brief, easily missable look to the kids around the table, Quis wondered if it would be appropriate to tell Leon about what Livia had found in the Med Bay. However, that was what started the fire in the Med Bay in the first place and he wasn’t interested in bringing it back up. In fact, he might just let that whole thing die and pray it never revives itself. Others didn’t need to know. He barely wanted to know, but there was nothing he could do about that anymore.

Leon gives a what can you do shrug in response, smiling tersely at the mention of ‘tummy problems’. “Running around on empty stomachs in the summer heat… they never learn.” He speaks from experience—it was three summers into Camp before he heeded the warnings of counsellors and reluctantly ate breakfast, realising there was a fine line between eating nothing at all and too much.

He inspects Marquis’ face for several seconds, sensing a change in the caregiver. It was unheard of to see anything trouble him, always finding the brighter side of situations—a fact that, on the surface, Leon could relate to. For the Supervisor, it was more than choosing to look on the brighter side and more-so being pushed as the opposite will only weigh him down… maybe it’s the same for him, Leon thought, dragging his attention away before Marquis can notice the scrutiny.

“What, uh… happened last night?” Leon ventures carefully with a fleeting glance at the campers. He waves a hand around, a gesture meant to express you don’t have to go into detail, wondering if the blow-up from last night had anything to do with the sour expression on his face. “Everything cool with you and Lib?”

At the mention of “last night”, Marquis felt his heart sink. Did Leon know about the incident in his cabin? Had one of the others told him? Of course they had, he’s the supervisor, why wouldn’t they tell him? The questions had started flooding his mind and they showed absolutely no interest in stopping any time soon. But, the loudest of them all was asking what his answer should be. If the others had told Leon, that means they likely just put the blame on Thomas. So, it would be fine to do the same, right?

His thinking was interrupted by Leon expanding on his question. Oh. This was about him and Liberty?

Marquis couldn’t help how his expression fell into something that almost looked disappointed, feeling like he had wasted his panic for no reason at all. However one “wasted” panic, that is.

Although, despite the fact that this question was much easier to answer than what he had thought Leon was referring to, he still wasn’t exactly in a hurry to talk about it. After all, that conversation with Libby had resulted in the first crack in his otherwise perfect armor of optimism.

Thankfully, it would seem Quis didn’t need to respond to the question after all, his head turning as he heard someone start approaching the table. Someone who could distract Leon, hopefully. And, of course, it just had to be Ricky. This was the second time in just as many minutes that Quis had felt like he had wasted emotions. First was wasting fear on Leon’s question, and now, he had wasted his hope that someone would come to the table on Ricky. Sure, someone did technically come to the table, but did it have to be Ricky? Marquis would gladly have taken pretty much anyone else. Even Alton.

Ricky wasn’t sure what dinner tonight would look like, but after the previous night’s dinner, he was optimistic. That was, he was optimistic until he saw Marquis’s name listed next to his on the table list. Whoever made these had a wicked sense of humor that he wasn’t sure he appreciated. He didn’t understand why the guy hated him so much, making curt little comments and cutting him glares that he wasn’t sure why he deserved. And, in fact, a self-righteous side of him ventured, I don’t think I deserve that treatment at all. After all, he won’t even tell me why he decided to switch up on me after we were friends for so long. And until the switch-up–and even after it–Ricky had been nothing but nice to Marquis, as far as he knew.

So he walked over to his table, chin held high, determined to accept his fate. At least Leon was there to soften the blow. He would put on a happy face in front of the kids and Leon, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was field irritated gazes and snippy jibes from Marquis. What he really wanted was to scream into his pillow until his throat was raw so he could wash himself clean of this stressful, awful day. He wanted to demand that they try harder to look for Lisa, that people take whatever was causing these girls to go missing seriously, but he didn’t want to admit that in front of dozens of impressionable young children, so he kept his mouth shut. These kids would have a great time if he could help it, and he would do his best to look after them so that nothing bad happened to any of them. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something did happen.

He sat down on Leon’s side of the table, attempting to avoid Marquis without making it obvious he was trying to avoid him. He cast the counsellors around him a grin, uneasy feelings neatly tucked away where no one could see them. “Hey guys,” he said cheerfully, giving them a cheeky little wave. “Have the kids been behaving themselves?” He chuckled, glancing at the children sitting around them.

Leon allows his question to go unanswered and gives a nod to Ricky in greeting, rising up enough to clap a hand on the Jock's shoulder. “About time you got here,” he mentions with a laugh he hopes isn’t awkward—of all the counsellor’s in summers past, Ricky was known for punctuality, never one to unintentionally spawn a headache for the newest Supervisor.

Marquis heard Ricky’s greeting, made eye contact with the other counselor, but felt absolutely no compulsion to reply in kind. If anything, he felt that Ricky was lucky. After all, he was still managing a more-or-less neutral expression, rather than the look of annoyance that he had saved specifically for the “thief”. Because that is what Quis saw Ricky as: a thief who didn’t deserve any of the kindness that any of the other counsellors enjoyed.

“We always behave ourselves,” retorted a boy sitting near him, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. Ricky recognized the kid from last year: a nerdy kid named William who had tried volleyball and found he really liked it.

“Hmm, what do you think, Leon?” he asked, glancing at his friend with a smile. “Have they been on their best behavior?” William shot him a look, folding his arms across his chest as he did so, but training his eyes on Leon regardless. Joking around with the kids was a small reprieve from the churning mess of emotions Ricky was doing his best to repress, and William was playing right into his hands with what Ricky guessed was a need to be affirmed by the big kids. It reminded Ricky a bit of his sister Jackie, and he made a mental note to call her as soon as he could to update her on the gossip this session. She had really wanted to attend camp this year, even though their parents forbade her from it. He found that he really missed her presence at Evergreen.

Leon fixes a scrutinising stare in William’s direction as he pretends to consider. Grabbing at his chin in thought, he mumbles, “always behaving, are you? Maybe when Penelope isn’t riling you up.” His expression breaks free into a half-hearted laugh, tapping the table twice with the palm of his hand definitively. “Score us some Volleyball points for Colour War and we’ll see, yeah?”

He turns back in Ricky’s direction with a smile oddly genuine after the interaction with the camper. “End up choosing your costume at the Amphitheater?”

Ricky chuckled, watching the lighthearted interaction happily. He always found that interacting with the campers brought some much-needed levity both to himself and to the others; the drama between counsellors could get a bit out of control at times, and the kids reminded Ricky what they were really here for. Or at least one of his main reasons for attending camp this long.

“Yeah, I think I’ll go as a devil,” he said with a shrug. “I was between that or angel, and Rowan suggested it, so why not? What about you? Figure out your costume, or did you already have it all planned?” He was doing a decent job so far at ignoring the elephant of the room–his and Marquis’s animosity. That was not something that the campers needed to know about, and he was hardly ready to drag anyone–camper or counsellor–into his personal drama. Though he didn’t have a total poker face–his eyes darted to Marquis occasionally only to quickly look away.

Marquis chuckled upon hearing that Ricky would be dressing up as a devil. Fitting, he thought, though he knew better than to say it out loud - the campers would have had more questions than he cared to provide an answer for. Then again, he fixed Ricky with eyes that made sure that, even though Marquis never said anything, Ricky knew exactly what Quis was thinking.

His gaze lazily went back over to Leon. It seemed they both agreed that Leon was neutral ground. Quis could only hope that Leon’s back wouldn’t break from carrying the weight of the tension between the two. “What about you, Leon? Any fun outfits planned?”

Leon stifles a too loud laugh, pressing the knuckles of his fist against his mouth. Ricky, as a devil? “Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Supposing that was the fun about costumes and the strange little ‘tradition’ Renee started—pretending to be something else, relatable or not—was the point. He opens his mouth to respond about his own costume, but clamps down as someone tugs at his sleeve.

“What’s… an oxymoron?” Lydia, a camper to his left, chimes up with a curious glow to her eyes.

“Uh—” Leon mentally stumbles. This part, the explaining of a concept he inherently knows but can’t necessarily express on the spot, was one of the most difficult challenges of having ADHD. It set him behind in class—unable to get through presentations without detailed prompt cards, or being called on to answer a question he specifically knew, only to watch the disappointment twist his teachers’ face as they felt proven wrong.

Contradictory. It’s a contradictory statement…” he trails off, seeing the confusion in Lydia’s face only deepen. “Like, uh… cold sweat. Because sweat is something caused by heat.” Recovering over the piss-poor example, he points kindly at Ricky, That is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Dressing as a… devilish, uh—character, is an oxymoron.”

Lydia nods, her mouth fixing to say, “uh-huh, I get it now.”

What about you, Leon? Leon snaps back to attention, the same question vollied at him again—from Marquis this time—and he turns his gaze between both men to respond, “Fred from Scooby-Doo. Safe, easy, totally unlike me—” the smile playing on his face hints otherwise and he cheerfully shrugs. “Didn’t think we’d be uh, doing… that tonight,” he stops himself from revealing Truth or Dare in front of the campers, knowing their questions would go unanswered and thus, put onto their parents—a conversation with Mr. Evergreen he’d rather avoid. “Last minute decision. What about you, Quis?”

Ricky caught Marquis’s gaze with a frown, a brief crack in his cheerful facade. Why did he always have to try to bring Ricky down, even with just a glance? He understood well and good what the man was getting at in his amusement at Ricky’s costume. But he tried not to think about it, wanting to rise above. He did make an involuntary face at Marquis briefly, his normally tight grip on his emotions starting to falter after the toll today had taken on him.

Instead, he tried to focus on Leon’s reaction and chuckled at the guy. Even he hadn’t known about Truth or Dare? Then what had caused him to announce it? “Yeah, I think it came as a surprise to a lot of us,” he admitted, then glanced at Marquis with a raised eyebrow. “What are you dressing up as, Marquis?” The first phrase he’d directed at him and only at him. He’d given up on ignoring the guy and instead fixed his gaze directly on him. If I have to deal with him, I won’t let him just get away with being an asshole without making him uncomfortable.

Leon’s smile straightens—more of a resigned set to his mouth—as Ricky explains the decision to continue tradition came as a surprise. His eyes flicker down, unsure. The decision surrounding Truth or Dare tossed around in his mind like a salad in the weeks leading up to Camp; a double-edged sword of respecting the ritual of night two and redefining a usually tense experience into a positive memory, or washing their hands of it without Renee there to spearhead the night into the direction she wanted.

All in all, it was less about the Evergreens and more about Lisa that left a sourness in the air. He taps his thumb gently on the edge of the table as the seconds ticked by, choosing to distract himself by looking over to Marquis in anticipation for his response.

At the question about what he was wearing, Marquis simply shrugged. Despite the fact that they had both asked the question, Marquis answered as though he was only responding to Leon. “Same thing as always - the biggest baddest cowboy in the west. But this year, I'm getting an even bigger belt buckle.” From Marquis’ face, it was clear that he exceedingly proud of his costume choice.

There were some that had told him in previous years that he should try changing things up from time to time. However, what those people didn't understand was Marquis’ extreme aversion to fear. The more accurate word was fear, but Marquis would never admit that.

Spending her freetime by the lake proved calming for Leilani’s soul; it was probably more the solitude than anything, but at least she got a nice view. The first day back proved much more taxing than the young artist could’ve ever anticipated. Every step she took, everywhere she looked, her memories were overwhelmed with thoughts of a certain previous camp supervisor.

And then of course there was her more-than-embarrassing run in with Miriam Berry, someone she faintly remembered from highschool. Faintly remembered my ass… Lani did her best to shake off her embarrassment as she walked back to the main part of camp. All she really did was give Miriam a painted rock and call her pretty, which Lani really could’ve done without that second part.

“Dumb, just keep your mouth shut in the future Lani.” she muttered to herself, kicking a rock on the path leading to the dining hall. Leilani hadn’t always been so harsh on herself, and she certainly wasn’t harsh on anyone but herself. She had the reputation of being encouraging, uplifting, giving second chances, maybe one too many second chances… but there was certainly a turning point in her. It was a side of her that was never shown as long as Leilani could help it. Truth be told, she was a bit ashamed that she spoke to herself so harshly. She didn’t really know how it happened, or even when. Between her father being so harsh and criticizing every little thing she did, or the indirect and passive aggressive behaviors she endured in her relationship, Leilani sure she was screwed up beyond all measure.

Just… Remember, you’re here for the kids.

Leilani did her best to keep the peace the lake gave her as she stepped foot into the dining hall, immediately feeling better with the energy from all the young campers. The steady and even noise from the idle chatter helped center her, truly reminding her why she was there in the first place.

Glancing at the board to find her table, she felt her day get even better as she read the names. Ricky AND Leon? And Marquis? A good group, in which Lani was incredibly biased towards her best friend. Surely nothing could sour-

Harper Evergreen.

Shit. Of course there was a wrench thrown into her mood. From what Leilani remembered from years previous, Harper might as well have been a clone of Renee, just brunette instead of blonde. She had that tried and true Evergreen venom. Leilani slowly turned her head to scan to see if Harper was waiting at the table with her boys. When she saw Leon, Marquis and Ricky and no sign of the Evergreen, she let out a sigh of relief. At least I get some moments of preparation, hm?

Lani weaved through the tables and chairs of campers, smiling and waving to kids she had seen in Arts & Crafts earlier that day, before arriving at her table. Upon even seeing her friends, her smile grew wide. She scooted to stand behind Ricky, throwing her arms around him, giving him a big hug from behind.

“Hey gang!” her voice was cheery, happy, just like regular ol’ Leilani Iona. After a few moments of hugging her best friend, she moved to give Leon a brief hug, and then scurried to where Marquis sat and gave him a hug as well; of course stopping to high-five the familiar campers around their table. After she had made her pleasantries with all the present members of her table, she found a seat close to Ricky and set down her bag on the table, “How was everyone’s first day back in the groove of camp?”

There she is.”
Leon grins, raising a hand to pat at Leilani’s shoulder as she squeezed him in a short hug. “Noticed the painted rocks at the Lodge when I picked up the dinner seatings,” he comments as the arts girl makes her rounds on the table, engaging heartily with the campers.

Any lingering stress begins to subside as the kids slap their palms onto hers; the sight of them, happy and without a care, almost allows him to forget the information he was instructed to dish out that morning. “Massive improvement in that age group from last summer. Must be teaching them well, Miss Lani.” He teases without a shred of malice, moving his hands to curl around the elbows placed atop the Dining table.

Ricky felt some of his tension melt away as Leilani appeared at the table, and he had grinned up at her as she hugged him. He was always happy to spend more time with one of his best friends, and he was silently relieved that she might be able to help act as a barrier between him and Marquis. He would do his best to be not only civil, but nice, even if he had let himself be a little petty earlier. Unfortunately, something about Marquis brought it out of him.

“All good here,” he commented cheerfully, once again the picture of friendliness. He gave a dorky little salute to punctuate his words. “Hope that your day’s been good too, Lani.”

Another counsellor that caused him little reason to fret as he shuffled around Camp Evergreen, frantic to be present for his Boating activity and pick up Renee’s slack. “No hitches on my end,” the half-truth stings on its way out. For his penchant towards dishonesty, Leon’s surprised the lies he tells aren’t spoken with more ease by now. Marquis had his hands full.”

Lani’s arrival at the table sent Marquis through an absolute rollercoaster of emotions. First, just seeing her made him brighten up instantly, the first genuine smile that had found Marquis’ features since he entered the dining hall. Leilani just had that effect on people. However, his mood immediately dipped again to one of annoyance as he saw her go hug Ricky. With how long they had all been at the camp, Lani’s friendship with Ricky was nothing new to Marquis., but it was still vexing to see someone like Leilani so friendly and happy with someone like Ricky.

And then, in true Leilani fashion, she came round and shared hugs with everyone, Marquis included. It was simply impossible to stay upset at her. Not when she was so cheerful and made sure to care for everyone around her. Unfortunately, there were things she did - things everybody did - unintentionally that left Marquis feeling sour. Choosing to sit next to Ricky, for instance.

In one, quick, sweeping motion, Marquis looked across the table and couldn’t help but notice that all of the counselors were sitting with Ricky - choosing to ignore the fact that Leon had gotten there well before Ricky. His brows furrowed in annoyance as he looked at the three, their conversation hitting his ears, but he was too distracted by his own thoughts to process the words. What makes Ricky so great? What does he have that I don’t? What do they even see in him? But, more to the point, what did she see in him?

It wasn’t until he heard Leon speak his name that he snapped back to his senses. Unfortunately, he had only heard his name and nothing else that Leon had said. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Definitely.” Smile and nod, Quis. Smile and nod. “Let’s get to eating, huh? I know I’m starving.” There was no doubt in his mind that Ricky would ask to serve the food in order to make everyone fall even more in love with him. Ugh, the nerve of him. To make sure that such a travesty didn’t occur, Marquis stepped out of his seat, to the end of the table where everything was set and looked to the table with that big, signature Marquis smile. “Alright, who’s first?”

Leon, grateful for a distraction from his own thoughts, glosses over how the caregiver dodged the conversation—moving to stand with Marquis and rubbing his hands together, addressing the table of campers with, “Well? Line up one by one and ask Marquis politely for a serving.” He exaggerates the word, throwing the table a pointed look. There was a surprising majority of campers lacking in the good manners department—a sad fact that dawned on him at the end of one of his first summers as a counsellor when a parent came to pick up her son, quipping on the journey down Hallow’s trail, ‘have I not paid enough to fix your rotten behaviour?’ It wasn’t any of their jobs to parent, but they could steer them in a better direction for the short two week duration.

The Supervisor coaxes the campers out of their seats, pointing a warning finger at each camper that attempts to cut ahead or disrupts the line. Interjecting with words of, ‘enough of that’ and ‘do you want to sleep on an empty stomach?’, a pointless threat he’d never follow through on—but, it worked as the campers reluctantly fell silent and accepted their helping of dinner from Marquis.

Glancing around at the campers with their dishes of spaghetti, he turns to both Leilani and Ricky, “Harper should be joining us soon. Have the both of you had a chance to greet her yet?”

Ricky had set his attention on Marquis, who had raced to get up and serve the food. What is it with his desire to one-up me all the time? God forbid I try to be helpful in front of him. Because of course Ricky would have been the first to volunteer to serve everyone had Marquis not gotten to it before he could. Ricky always enjoyed helping out in simple ways when he could and letting the others enjoy themselves, but it seemed like whenever he was around Marquis the other man always tried to outdo him in the kindness department. I mean, I should consider it a win since someone is still helping out, but it’s just so infuriating that he seems to think this is all a competition or something. It’s like he’s determined to make me look bad for some reason. Before he could continue to sit in his annoyance, he glanced up as Leon addressed him and Leilani.

He honestly hadn’t realized Harper would even be at camp before seeing her name on the list of people sitting at his table, and a part of him was surprised. She hadn’t been around last year, so why return after her cousins had disappeared? It was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on; maybe she was nostalgic, wanting to come here as a way to be closer to the relatives that were gone, or perhaps she was trying to be emotional support to Jonathan. Well, that second option didn’t really seem in character for her, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Despite his slight curiosity about the matter, he knew it was none of his business. He just hoped that Harper was doing okay, or as much as she could be in this situation, really. He wanted to ask her about it when he saw her, but he figured that wouldn’t really be helping in this scenario–it was different to ask Clarisse, Leilani, or even Connie about that stuff because they were close (at least at one point). He and Harper simply weren’t close enough for him to broach the topic without feeling like he was overstepping. Besides, he was sure she’d heard enough about it in the past year to last a lifetime.

“No, I haven’t,” he responded, glancing over at Leilani to see if she had reacted at all to the statement. “I’m sure I can greet her whenever she sits down, though.”

Leilani’s eyes connected with Ricky’s, eyes wide as she shook her head, “Nope, I haven’t either, but we’ll of course give her a warm welcome!” Lani nodded at Leon as she looked back at Ricky. For a split second, her eyes flicked over to Marquis, keeping her warm smile.

The budding artist certainly wasn’t blind to the tension between Ricky and Marquis. She had been on the listening end of Ricky’s rant sessions a few times, sharing a lot of his confusion as to why there was suddenly so much animosity directed towards him. Any time Ricky talked to her about it, she had no real clues as to why.

Any time Leilani was with Marquis, he was more than pleasant; never treating her any differently than he had before. Although, she did notice the passive aggressive behavior he displayed whenever she was with Ricky. She was truly at a loss, she never wanted to make enemies with anyone, but Ricky was truly her best friend.

She shook off her inner monologue, knowing that wasn’t to be the focus of the evening. Leilani knew where her loyalties lied, so did Ricky. There was just an overwhelming sense of hope that the boys could keep it together in front of the kids.

To Marquis’ credit, he had done a rather decent job at focusing on serving the kids rather than rubbing his “win” in Ricky’s face, although Marquis was almost certainly the only person at the table that saw what was happening as a competition.

When it was time for the counselors to get their food, he couldn’t help but huff as he noticed Ricky going over to Leon’s station. Coward. Whatever glance he spared Ricky was quick and fleeting, as if he didn’t want to get caught.

Shovelling a generous helping of pasta and sauce onto the plate, Leon knows the carbs would be worth the night he intended to have—drinking in excession was second nature, a habit to trap the dulled feeling as long as he could manage. Tonight would be no different. From his position at the table, he briefly glances over to table five, biting the inside of his cheek as he spots the familiar stature of Levi. Over a decade of friendship meant knowing when there was tension.

Deal with it later, he places the plate down with more force than he meant to—the clatter of ceramic and cutlery sending an unpleasant shot down his spine—he muffles an apology to the table, where campers jump at the sudden noise. “Let’s dig in, yeah?” He speaks aloud, beckoning Leilani and Ricky to join him with their servings.

Ricky, Marquis, Leilani—who the hell are these people? After wrapping up dinner with Juliette and—what’s his name again?, Harper Evergreen took some time to freshen up in the communal bathrooms nearby before returning to the chaos that was the Dining Hall. In spite of the time crunch, her movements were unhurried, refusing to let any pressure weigh her down after the tedious time spent cooking in the back kitchen. This was her time to unwind, or—

“Hey, Tyler! Think fast—”

“Or, sit down.”
Spinning on her heel, Harper fixed a wandering camper a pointed look and watched until he scurried back to his table.

—at least try.

Sparing one last look at the corkboard for her table number, the bloodline began her leisurely stride toward table four, noting each camper sitting with their own bowls of pasta in front of them while lingering counselors finished plating their own servings. “Hope you guys saved me some.” I ruined a brand new pair of shoes making it.

Despite the smile she wore, it lacked any true warmth as she showed no interest in her company at table, save for one: must’ve missed him. Throwing a glance at the Supervisor, she made a beeline for the end of the table where a few stray bowls were available to pick up. “Juliette’s nice. Think I kinda—” she feigned a wince and shrugged before turning to an unknown counselor left beside her.

“You mind?” Harper asked, displaying the bowl for them.

Slurping down a noodle too fast as Harper strode up to the table with an insincere smile, Leon coughs with the effort of forcing the pasta down. He warily rises to his feet, fist braced on his chest—hope she doesn’t think the worst, I love the food, honestly

Harper, hey. Super glad to hear that,” a grin makes its way to his face at the compliment towards her company. His eyes slide around the Dining Hall, searching for a head of ginger hair—blonde, he corrects himself—and spots Juliette serving campers. Moving his gaze back to the Evergreen, he quickly ducks towards the serving dish and loads up a spare bowl.

“You, uh… remember Ricky and Leilani, right?” He gestures to their tablemates with a casual toss of his head, hair shifting to fall across his forehead. Twisting at the waist, he nods further down the table where Marquis was serving the campers. “And Marquis?”

Ricky glanced up at the familiar voice, noting the picture-day smile Harper directed at everyone. He finished chewing before giving Harper a small wave and a smile, though the wattage of his was slightly higher, infused with the warmth he treated everybody to. Or mostly everybody, anyway, considering his present company.

I’d hope she remembers who I am, considering how many years we’ve been counselors together. But, he supposed it was no skin off his back if she didn’t; it wasn’t as if they were ever close, anyway. Of Renee’s little posse, he had only ever been close with Clarisse.

At any rate, he would be friendly. That was always the best way to go about things, both emotionally and practically. No reason to make enemies when he could make friends instead. “Hi,” he said cheerfully. “Nice to see you again.”

You, uh… remember Ricky—Diverting her attention onto the counselor who had welcomed her with a smile first, her dimpled smile softened into something more subtle as she openly scrutinized him in search of some form of recognition. Nice to see you again. Oh—

Had it not been for the familiar chime of his voice causing a memory of Clarisse’s sporty friend to resurface, Harper wouldn’t have recognized him at all. Between losing the baby face in exchange for scruff and the obvious absence of the lanky arms he once possessed, Ricky Sanford was a shell of his former self in the best way possible. “You too.” she stated simply, more focused on—and Leilani, right?

Leilani felt a shiver down her spine as Harper finally approached the table, a surge of adrenaline rushing through to her head. But, the artist was far too experienced at keeping her “cool” in anxiety-ridden situations. Her smile stayed wide as she felt herself inch ever closer to Ricky, not that he would’ve noticed.

“Yeah, good to see you, Harper.” She did her best to tone down her cheer, hoping to avoid any scrutiny and harsh critique she had grown oh-so-used to from the Evergreen line. Leilani couldn’t recall a specific instance where Harper was the one bashing Leilani, but there were more than enough times where Harper was sat alongside Renee as she did the dirty work against Leilani.

Hope we’ve moved past that now…

“Leilani…” The bloodline smirked. The name rolled off her tongue with an ease that spoke of swift familiarity. As Harper recalled her cousin’s retelling over the phone—gossip galore from the night in 2001 at the Sunspot—fond amusement flickered across her features, and she couldn’t help the fleeting glances between her and Ricky. How could I forget?

“It’s so good to see you again.” Ensuring that her tone sounded less condescending in front of the Supervisor, she threw a warmer smile toward him now before her gaze set on her bowl with slightly widened eyes. “Serving for one, Leon! I’m not a freakin’ quarterback on a football team.”

Quickly, Harper raised her hands to claim the spaghetti-filled ceramic with a bemused shake of her head, fingers curling around its edges as she pulled it away from him.

Sheepish, Leon relinquished his grasp into her insistent hands. “Sports always need another pair of hands and feet,” he shrugs, playing into the joke to ease the embarrassment over the large portion size.

Quis blinked, head tilting slightly at the new arrival. For all the years he had been coming to the camp. He couldn’t say that he knew her, but her face was definitely familiar. It wasn’t until Leon mentioned her name that the puzzle finally fit together. Harper, Harper Evergreen.

He watched her with unblinking eyes, unable to stop the flashes of Paige and Renee that crossed his mind. She didn’t particularly look like any of them - what with her brown hair and all - but the name was enough to bring back all the uselessness Marquis had felt over the last year.

“Hey, Harper!” No, too energetic. He cleared his throat and tried again.“Hey, Harper.” his eyes were starting to sting from how long he had gone without blinking, but he almost couldn’t even feel the sting. “I’m…” Sorry? What for? What does one say? Wait, were they even close? The silence was at that point just before things got awkward and Marquis knew he had to fill it with something. And quick. “I’m here if you need anything.” he finally offered with a timid smile.

Claiming a seat on the unoccupied side of her assigned table, Harper glanced at the counselor who stated her name twice—scrutiny almost at its peak at the sight of him—before she thought, that’s too easy. “Are you gonna stare at me like that all night, Marquis, or are you gonna sit and eat? You’re the only one without food.” Spearing her fork into the noodles, she twirled the utensil until a bite-sized amount began to form, all while throwing an expectant look at him. Unless, you’re telling me you don’t like what I made.”

None the wiser to the thin layer of strain colouring the interactions at their table, Leon returns to his seat nearby Harper’s newly claimed one and resumes eating, forcing the pasta down slower. His palette wasn’t the most ‘refined’ in the world, but the stew from the night before and the spaghetti now was a godsend.

“No way,” he answers briefly in place of Marquis, realising he never received an answer of his own, “he’s going to devour the bowl—it’s delicious and he has a lot to compensate for. Didn’t eat much last night after the, uh…” He gestures his fork around in a circle, rolling his wrist, as he searches for the appropriate word. Scene. You and Libby are good, then?” He presses the subject again, fixing the caregiver with an expectant look of his own.

Oh, right. He'd been caught so off guard by Harper that his gave was frozen halfway between getting some food from the pot and putting it in a bowl for himself. Only then did he realise how blatantly he had been staring and, almost as if to compensate for it, he blinked what must have been a dozen times in five seconds as he quickly turned his attention to serving his food.

Before the first scoop landed in the bowl, Leon had already started answering for him - a welcome respite. He would take any excuse not to have to answer questions about his odd behavior.

He finished serving and went to take a seat. Unfortunately, he was halfway through his first mouthful when Leon decided to all about Libby again. The result was Quis swallowing too fast, causing some sauce to go down the wrong tube. The coughing fit that followed was both amusing and concerning to watch as Quis tried to keep it quiet but was also clearly panicking.

After a couple moments and some unhelpful gulps of water, Quis was finally able to speak again. “Of course.” His voice was strained and his eyes looked like he was just getting over a horrendous breakup. “I'm good with…” his gaze slowly drifted over to Ricky, giving him a distasteful once over before it found Leon again. “I'm good with everyone.” He said with cheer in his raspy voice and a smile that somehow managed to look genuine.

A scene…? Dismissing Marquis’ coughing fit, Harper diverted her attention away from the conversation just long enough to finally take the bite of spaghetti noodles off her fork, silently chewing to herself and shrugging at the quality. She had better—a lot better with the new experiences the kind of wealth her family possessed could unlock. For a camp, however, the cook knew that it was good enough.

Fork in his mouth, Leon glances over to Harper with a shrug that asserts figures they’re fine. He wasn’t sure Marquis retained the ability to not be on good terms with the people around him—then again, the figurehead also didn’t anticipate an uncharacteristic display of… frustration? Anger? Unconcerned, he resumes eating, blissfully unaware of the warring tension at his own table.

In spite of disengaging from it, when Harper looked up in time to catch Leon’s gaze, her eyes briefly narrowed in response, half tempted to bring up the conversation again and ask what scene he had been referring to that occurred the night before. Uncaring of the scrutiny it may have been laced with, the Evergreen took another glance at Marquis as he sat and resumed eating, gauging remnants of his reaction.

Whatever happened between him and ‘Libby’, as well as another indiscernible something she couldn’t quite put a finger on, bothered Marquis. A lot. “Hm.” Drama I didn’t stir up? “this is like dinner and a show.” she muttered, throwing the Supervisor an amused glance as she readied her second bite.

Marquis kept looking between Harper and Leon, hoping with everything in him that the matter died where it was. Seeing Harper continue eating, he allowed himself relax a little bit as he also went back to his food. A foolish decision. When Harper spoke again, it took everything in him not to choke again, only fixing her with a nervous grin.

For a moment, he considered if the way he felt around Harper was the way Ricky felt around him. However, the moment he realised he was beginning to empathize with Ricky, he shot the thought process down with a vengeance. Ricky deserves everything I’ve done and said…and more.

Leilani seemed to stay incredibly still in her seat with Harper’s arrival. There was a brief moment where she thanked whatever god there was that Harper was brunette and not blonde; or else Leilani would’ve probably had a nervous enough reaction to up and leave the dining hall and curl up in her bunk for the rest of the night.

Deep brown doe eyes stayed trained on Harper, walking to another end of the table and talking with Quis and Leon. Lani’s hand tapped Ricky’s thigh as she gave him a nervous look. “I didn’t even know she was going to be here this year!” Lani lowered her voice as she vented some anxieties to Ricky, “Is it too late to ditch Sunspot?” her eyes quickly flicked to Harper before back at her best friend.

Ricky glanced back at Leilani, a small frown on his face. He remembered Renee going out of her way to hate on Leilani during the last truth or dare, brutally so. He had even gotten dragged into it for defending her, but he didn’t regret that one bit. So he could see why another Evergreen at camp might make her anxious. However, he doubted anyone would let this go so easily, since it seemed like she wasn’t the only one who wanted to leave, and Ricky thought that maybe Leon needed this. Why else would he have suggested it? Ricky was slowly trying to hype up the activity in his head; maybe without Renee it wouldn’t be the mess it usually was.

“Probably, yeah,” he said with a sympathetic wince. “But if you sneak out early I will look the other way. Or go with you if that’s what you need.” He offered her a small smile, glancing back at Harper after he did so. She was so hard to read, and it perplexed him, but his number one priority was his friends. He was going to do his best to make this truth or dare better for Leilani.

Leon’s gaze travels down the table, checking on the campers and passing over the hushed conversation of Ricky and Leilani’s, glad to see their friendship persisted where others had fractured. Can’t be Connie… his mind treacherously thinks again, spotting the shock of blonde hair serving her table, only to fall onto the table next to Juliette—where Billie was. With Ezzy.

Appetite ruined, Leon swipes at his hands with a napkin, dinner pushed to the side. His distracted mind goes from one drastic this can’t be happening to landing on another uncomfortable realisation. He couldn’t turn back time or change the past, and from how carefree their conversation seemed, the supervisor has a hard time reconciling with what is out of his control.

Remembering the look he and Ricky shared at the Amphitheater, he tilts his head down the table to silently grab his attention, the corners of his mouth fighting the urge to frown as he gestures to the table with his eyes. Ricky was reasonable—full of hopeful optimism that Leon needed a slice of—and he hoped whatever reaction the jock might have to the display at that table would rub off on him.

Ricky glanced over at Leon, noticing the supervisor’s eyes on him with a moment of confusion before he followed Leon’s gaze to see Billie and Ezzy together. Again. He deflated a bit at their obvious camaraderie, trying to remind himself that he and Connie were more or less similar now despite their past, so why couldn’t Billie and Ezzy be friends?

He really shouldn’t care that much, anyway. Billie seemed lovely, and Ezzy had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Ricky. His normally positive outset was struggling under the pressure it had taken all day to uphold it, especially with the acidic glare of Marquis present at their table as well. He hoped the guy hadn’t caught him looking at Ezzy–and Billie–before he looked back at Leon, shooting his friend a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nothing to worry about here, Leon. Billie obviously likes you, if earlier is any indication. Can’t say the same for Ezzy and me.

Was Leon worried? Surely he wouldn’t be directing Ricky’s gaze to the exes to taunt him; Leon simply wasn’t the type, and Ricky always endeavored to think the best of people. It seemed like he and Leon had been on the same team–whatever that team was–at the amphitheater. So he would do his best to foster a friendly spirit about the whole thing.

Leon latched onto the first glimpse of a smile—one that wasn’t wholly sincere, but enough to ward off the tornado wrecking havoc in his mind. He pegged that the jock’s interest leant more towards Ezzy’s involvement, especially as Billie refrained from mentioning Ricky’s name—they didn’t know each other, and the process of elimination revealed that final piece to the complex puzzle.

Judgement was far from Leon’s mind; he experimented, too, and wasn’t as straight as his dating history might suggest. As a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, he couldn’t see the appeal to concealing a relationship, to make room and space for anyone that failed to ‘understand’ the concept—and the supervisor was too cowardly to try.

Matching the smile, Leon gives a subtle nod only to be brought back to the present with a misplaced comment from Harper—

Attention now speared by the various glances Ricky and Leon were throwing, Harper let the fork fall away from her mouth as she followed one of them. Table three? What was special about—oh! When her gaze landed on the friendly farmer she got to familiarize herself with back at the amphitheater, she glanced between the two male counselors at her own table again. “Am I seeing a love triangle right now? What’s with the long faces at Billie?”

Marquis looked up from his food and noticed some glances being exchanged around the table and it struck at one of Marquis’ deepest insecurities: having things happen around him without actually involving him. More pressing, however, was the fact that whatever was happening excluded him and included Ricky. Again with Ricky? On a normal day, Marquis was able to forget Ricky’s existence all together, choosing not to spend his time dwelling on negative thoughts. However, sitting right next to the guy was like an inescapable reminder of how permanently vexing the traitor was.

Harper’s comment, however, caused him to look in Billie’s direction with a raised brow. Already involved in drama on her first full day? And of course Ricky is involved in it somehow. To be able to move on from Connie so quickly - I bet he never even really loved her.

Ricky blinked, surprised that she had come to that conclusion despite it being an obvious assumption. He was looking in Billie’s direction, after all. But he hadn’t really been focused on Billie. In his infinite wisdom, he blurted out, “Oh, um, I wasn’t looking at Billie.” Great, now she’s going to know that I care about what’s going on over there. And maybe she’ll realize I was looking at Ezzy instead. He quickly averted his gaze back to his food, face flushed. “It’s not a love triangle or anything,” he added, more subdued. Ricky genuinely had no idea how to spin this conversation into something positive now. He was mostly just trying and failing to pretend he wasn’t weirdly obsessed with his ex from a relationship that he wasn’t even sure if everyone here knew about in the first place. Plus, he was a horrible liar.

Coulda fooled me.” she teased, throwing another glance toward Billie’s table where she had been serving the campers, donning one of those bright smiles that she never seemed to run out of. “I’m sure our little Supervisor here appreciates hearing that though. You should see the way he looks at her.”

Resigned to his own obvious infatuation with the newest farmer, and how helpless Leon was to conceal any true feelings—an impossible task with Billie’s blinding smile, overpowering the past reminders of what happens when he rushes to catch up with his emotions—he solemnly bobs his head to Harper’s words. Refuting the claim was a losing game. “Am I that obvious?” He asks with a brief chuckle, the question rhetorical. Yes, I am.

Quis looked around the table, jaw practically on the floor. Yet, somehow, it seemed as though he was the only one caught unawares of Leon’s feelings towards Billie. It had only been a day and he was already feeling like he was getting left behind. He threw Leon a look, letting him know that the two of them were definitely going to be talking about him and Billie later.

His gaze, however, was more on Harper than anybody else. It seemed like there were a million and one things going on in her head at once and all of them were mischievous. Normally, one could argue whether or not she resembled the Evergreen sisters, however, in this moment, she was the spit and image of Renee in everything but hair and it sent chills down his spine, choosing to mind his business and focus on his food before he was pulled into it.

Ricky had gone noticeably flushed, and although she had no prior qualms against the sports counselor, Harper was bored with the stale, and excessively friendly, conversation that seemed to be the hot topic of table four. If he’s not gonna say anything—she eyed the way he seemed to bury his attention in his food—might as well have fun with it.

Her grin sharpened as she leaned in conspiratorially, voice dripping in mock sweetness. “Oh come on, Ricky. If it’s not Billie, then who has you pining over there?” She tapped a manicured nail against her chin, pretending to ponder.

Throwing a fleeting glance between table three and Ricky, amusement flickered in her eyes. “Is it… Annie? Don’t exactly pin you to have a thing for divas but—” she shrugged, before picking up where she left off with her new game. It couldn’t be Rowan for obvious reasons. And, despite Liv’s sudden reappearance in her life, the Evergreen would’ve liked to think that she’d mention a boyfriend during their talk this morning. Unless, Shiloh teased the truth out of his sister first.

Then, with a wicked smirk, she gasped in remembrance of the bleach-blonde hair that shared the same table with the farmer now. The only other option left and he was at the amphitheater too. “Oh. Wait. What if it’s Ezzy? Now that would be interesting.” Harper’s head tilted as she watched Ricky closely, waiting for the slightest flicker of discomfort. “Weird, goth boy meets newly turned jock. Nobody understands him quite like the guy who used to be weird himself. Sounds like a Lifetime movie.”

Briefly, she diverted her attention away from the counselor in favor of Marquis. “What do you think, Marquis? Should we start taking bets?”

Ricky frowned uncomfortably at the new topic of conversation, regretting having opened his mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He poked at his spaghetti as Harper listed everyone at the other table, trying to vanish into thin air as his face grew redder. At the mention of Ezzy’s name, his jaw ticked, a dead giveaway to anyone who knew him well enough to tell, or anyone well-versed in body language perhaps. He continued stabbing at his food, losing interest in actually eating as his crush was discussed. The last thing I need is someone who hates me knowing exactly what buttons to push.

He silently hoped Leilani or Leon would bail him out of this miserable conversation, bracing himself for Marquis’s reply. If it were anyone else being so tormented, he would have stood up for them immediately, but there was something so much harder about standing up for himself, especially when the others were so close to the mark. It took all of his self-control not to glance over at Ezzy again.

Marquis froze mid bite, looking up from his plate to meet Harper’s attractive yet alarming gaze - like a viper moving towards its prey. Except, he wasn’t the prey in this instance and that was something he was infinitely glad for.

His gaze slowly moved from Harper to Ricky. Was this the chance he had been looking for? If someone was already giving Ricky a hard time and roped him into it, it was the perfect disguise. This meant that, if asked, he could simply say that he only said it because Harper asked.

Marquis took his time chewing, using the opportunity to think about the best jab he could throw at Ricky - biting back a smile the entire time.

Uh-oh. Leon saw the warning signs too late—true to his nature—and the impending accident was soon to hit them all. An Evergreen with a goal was a dangerous game to witness. His foot idly taps beneath the table restlessly as the situation unfolded, waiting for an opening, and seeing it in the form of Harper roping in Marquis’ to share an opinion she might twist—she’s not Renee, he reminds himself, the hesitation in his posture stilling him and his restless leg for painstakingly long seconds. It could be fine.

The tick in Ricky’s jaw doesn’t go unnoticed around the table and Leon jumps into the fray, “definitely not Ezzy.” He’s not sure if the jock was comfortable with the truth being out and pivots to a topic well known. “Think Connie is still occupying his mind. Not the smoothest of breakups…” A wince accompanies the words, recalling how his boating buddy turned her distress onto him—water under the bridge now, a weak moment he wouldn’t hold against her.

At first, Leon’s interruption threw Marquis’ thought process off track, but then he realized that it actually provided the perfect opportunity as he finally found his answer to Harper. He shrugged, doing his best to feign indifference as he spoke. “I don’t know, Harper. I personally wouldn’t place any bets on Ricky at all. Like Leon said, I bet it’s hard picking yourself back up after fumbling your perfect girl so bad.”

He punctuated the statement with a laugh, waving off what he just said immediately. “Wait, that sounded way meaner than I intended.” He turned to face Ricky, fixing him with the most unapologetic and unrepentant gaze; one that was meant for just him to see - forgetting that Leilani was right beside him. “My bad, buddy. You know I don’t mean it.” But the smile he was barely biting back said otherwise.

Leilani’s face turned into a scowl, and it was sent directly to Quis. Shocked would’ve been the lowest possible adjective she could've used to describe her reaction to her friend’s words. Her wide eyes gave away her disdain for Quis’ words and tone.

The artist made sure to catch his eye, doing everything she could to non-verbally communicate… anything to him. Where did that come from? Why do you have such problems with Ricky?

Why did you sound like Renee?


Struck by this new suggestion, Ricky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Okay, I appreciate the assistance Leon, but that is not true. And I think specifically denying it being Ezzy might make it more obvious that it is him. I guess Marquis kind of took the heat off of Ezzy, but now we’re talking about my other ex, which is not much better. He honestly didn’t even know what to say, eyes darting between the present company as he desperately tried to find a way to salvage his dignity. Especially after Marquis had added insult to injury. His little lying face was not helping matters. And what does he mean, the perfect girl-?

“No, I–” he began, swiftly restarting the sentence when he realized it wasn’t going anywhere. “It was a tough breakup, but I wouldn’t say that Connie’s still occupying my mind in that sense. Uh…” Fuck, this wasn’t helping. Ricky was officially panicking a bit.

Fumbling your perfect girl. Leon fumbled his fair share in the past; mistakes that were his, ones shared, others a blessing in disguise—he doesn’t bother looking in the direction of Johanna’s table, the souring of his disposition evident in how the figurehead’s posture slumps backwards. It wasn’t a slight meant for him, but his sympathy stretched towards Ricky at the antiquated dig.

Guess Marquis is not good with everyone, after all.

Leilani’s brows furrowed as she watched Harper, Quis and Leon giving Ricky a hard time about… Looking around the room? Frequently checking on Ricky’s stature, it didn’t take an expert to know that he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything. Her eyes seemed to squint at Leon in disbelief as he brought up Connie of all people. What is happening right now? Why couldn’t we have one nice meal?

“I don’t think pining has anything to do with it,” Lani found herself speaking up to the table, despite her previously stated fear of Harper; she couldn’t just leave Ricky out to dry like that, “I just figured we were all worn from the camp day,” The artist lended a look towards Leon, “I know I’m just looking forward to Sunspot after this. My campers were particularly rowdy; I could use a mental break from them,” She then turned to Ricky, lightly nudging him with her elbow, “Didn’t you also have some rowdy kids today? It is the first day for these guys; energy’s running kinda high.”

Harper didn’t miss the weight Connie’s name seemed hold over everyone now, but especially over Ricky and Marquis. ‘The perfect girl’, huh? She almost allowed her gaze to venture around the mess hall in search of the woman now; the one who seemed to earn such a hefty title from Marquis, and leave Ricky fumbling over his own words. But, then—I don’t think pining has anything to do with it. Leilani.

She had been quiet at the table long enough for Harper to gloss over her, but now that the attempt to shoot down her game hung in air through an act of kindness posed for the sports instructor, the Evergreen spared an open glare of annoyance.

Ricky smiled with relief at the out Leilani was offering, hoping the topic would change from his exes to…literally anything else. “Yeah, sports is usually pretty rowdy on the first day,” he admitted, thinking back to the activity, which of course led his train of thought back to Lisa. And that train of thought led him back to Ezzy, and to Emerick. I can’t escape.

Yeah, sports is usually pretty rowdy on the first day. Averting her annoyance to Ricky at the sound of his voice, as well as the sight of his smile, Harper scoffed, and it wasn’t long before she could hear Renee’s voice in her ear again. Renee was right about you two. “touching.” She stated simply, pondering if it was a rumor worth reviving at the Sunspot.

The subject switch was a futile attempt to diffuse the tension—this balloon wasn’t bursting, no matter how many pins Leilani stabbed into it—and Leon’s chest rose and fell solemnly, arms crossing around his chest, back bowed far enough that his neck pressed into the chair’s edge.

Was this how Camp Evergreen was always meant to be? Renee and Paige spiralled through the land, leaving behind a curse in their wake, forcing artists to form expressions of disdain and caregivers to selfishly reserve their kindness… Leon peaks at Harper through the curtain of hair that fell in front of his eyes, mussed out of place, and for Evergreens to be the most surprising of all.

“Think we’ve been more rowdy than the campers as of late,” a comment he directs towards Marquis with a knowing edge to his tone. He missed the memo of what went down with him and Ricky clearly, a fact the supervisor felt painfully inadequate for—but the outburst yesterday meant more than a simple I’m good with everyone—one he figured it was time to follow through on. “What was it about, Quis?”

Quis didn’t quite hear the camper call Mack's name, but he did hear the silence that fell over the crowd. A silent Camp Evergreen Dining Hall was always something to pay attention to because it either meant that something truly amazing was happening, or something absolutely terrible was.

As he looked around, he noticed that all gazes seemed to be pointed at the door and followed them until he saw her. At first, he refused to believe it. But, then again, both Thomas and Alton had come back and Mack returning was more believable than either of them. All of a sudden, Ricky and whatever was or wasn’t going on between him and Ezzy no longer mattered.

“Well…” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at her with the expression of a man who had just seen a ghost. “Camp just got a whole lot more interesting.”

He looked around at the campers. He didn’t know where the kids stood with Mack and didn’t want to sway them one way or the other, so he chose to keep whatever thoughts he voices rather neutral.

Leon paled. She’s—?

Conflicted, he shifts to stand from the table. He hadn’t spared much thought to process how he felt about the rumours swimming around—Mack was his plug, a valued person to coax out to the Sunspot, even someone he could share a secret or two with knowing it wouldn’t leave her mouth—and yet, his stomach drops with the weight of something unsaid.

Paige’s addiction wasn’t a secret, not really, and Leon wasn’t ready to contend with the role Mack may have inevitably played in the disappearance.

“Let me, uh—deal with that,” were his parting words to the table, moving towards the entrance with a pace slow enough to give Mack the chance to dissipate. Maybe she’s a ghost, he wondered, almost hopefully, maybe Marquis knocked me out after that.

He’s seconds away from cutting into the reunions, attention suddenly drawn to the figure of Billie—dark strands of hair disappearing around the corner, fleeing into the side kitchen and Leon invariably switches course, chasing after her and running from the problem he’d need to face at some point.

“wrong way, MacMillan.” The raven-haired girl spoke teasingly, wearing a smirk as Leon took a sharp turn away from the crowd of camp attendees stampeding their way towards the entrance of the hall. She had missed what—or who—exactly caught his eye, but the thought was quickly dismissed when she averted her attention back to the commotion.

The first thing that Harper noticed about her was her shaggy blonde hair, chopped haphazardly, and what the Evergreen could only assume was the aftermath of brushing against mental insanity.

That can’t be on purpose, she scrutinized before recalling Marquis’ last statement—Camp just got a whole lot more interesting—as well as the reactions from the rest of table four’s occupants. You don’t know how right you are. Harper could say in confidence that she wasn’t a familiar face, but that wouldn’t last forever so long as the strange woman attended a space with her name attached.

Ricky glanced up as everyone quieted, his blush finally having faded, though he couldn’t will his stomach to fully relax. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Mack being back–it was a bit of a gut punch to see her again after how things had gone last year, but he was glad that she seemed to be doing well enough. Of course, a first glance couldn’t tell him everything, but he hoped she was doing okay. He didn’t call out to her or make any moves toward the girl, knowing she had a whole host of people ready to greet her, and they weren’t good enough friends for him to feel like he had the right.

He glanced over at Leon as he spoke, getting up from the table on his way over to the newcomer before heading off in a different direction. At least Mack’s appearance had thoroughly brought the former line of conversation to a halt, and for almost the first time all day Ricky’s mind was free from Lisa, Ezzy, and Connie. But as he watched the reunion between Mack and those who were excited enough to greet her immediately, he did smile slightly. She deserved to have friends who welcomed her back here; especially in a time like this.

cast:
location:
the dining hall

 
MOOD: Everything's gonna be fine!

OUTFIT: first day of camp!

LOCATION: Dining Hall
basics
MENTIONS: Mack, Levi


INT: N/A

tags
TL;DRLeilani makes a mental note to catch up with Mack later, determined to finally talk to Levi. But before she can catch up with him at the dining hall, she gets swarmed by some "little artists".
tl;dr
leilani
better run for the hills, run for the hills, run


With the excitement surrounding the return of Mack, the camp had buzzed right into the end of dinner, allowing everyone with free time before the end of the day. Leilani was always glad to see a friendly face, even if she hadn’t had a chance to go up and greet Mack; She looked to be in plenty good company, I’ll see her tonight I’m sure.

As Lani began to turn back to her table, she caught a glimpse of an extremely tall counselor walking out of the dining hall; just slipping past all the commotion of Mack’s return. It was truly just a glance, but it was enough to tug at Leilani’s heart, a pang of the friendship that was once there. It felt strange, not being as close to Levi as she once was, and she truly had no idea what she had done to cause the strife.

Maybe I can talk to him before Sunspot tonight, the thought buzzed into the artist’s head, beginning to pick up the pace on cleaning up after her campers. It was hard enough to get a moment alone with anyone in Camp Evergreen; but especially with Levi, who always seemed to know the perfect times and places to slink out of the public eye.

Of course, as the universe loved to laugh in Leilani Iona’s face, a few too many campers had found themselves far too excited to talk to the arts and crafts counselor. Excitement over how their rocks were doing, attempts to guess ideas for future crafts, even questions about whose rock she liked the best out of everyone’s. A group of 6 or 7 of them had completely surrounded Leilani and were pelting her with as many questions as their little tiny motor mouths could spout off. The small group completely halted her work to help clean up and get out to speak to Levi.

But instead of becoming frustrated and annoyed, she grew a smile and sat down on one of the benches, facing the campers.

“I’d love to answer questions, my little artists, but I can only answer one at a time!” her voice was sweet, no one would’ve ever been able to know she was in a rush to leave the dining hall. With the patience of a saint, Lani sat with the campers and continued talking with them until they were some of the only people left in the dining hall.

“Well friends,” she smiled at them, even reaching out to ruffle a young camper’s hair, “It’s always a delight to talk with you all, but I think your curfew is coming up, is it not?” The campers groaned and shook their heads, trying to find more topics and questions to stay there talking with here. But just as gracious as anyone, Lani shook her own head, “Sorry my little artists, but we still have the whole week! So come give me a hug and head on off to bed, so you’re all well rested enough for whatever tomorrow holds!” She ended her words to the kids with her classic smile, which only burst into a fit of laughter as the whole group rushed to her side, enveloping her into a group hug.

Leilani waved at them as they all rushed to the dining hall door before her eyes shifted out the window by the front door. Only to see that Levi had already left. Ugh, probably to his cabin…

The artist continued collecting dirty dishes from the other tables, dropping them off at the kitchen with a “Thanks guys!” before heading out into the fresh air.

A large part of Lani considered not seeking Levi out. Maybe he wanted his space and didn’t want anything to do with her right then and there. She had no idea why Levi would adapt that mindset, but she was certainly running to whatever the worst case scenario was. But even with all the anxious possibilities filling up her head, Leilani knew more than anything that she wanted to talk to Levi. Even if it resulted in him saying he never wanted to be friends again, she wanted to speak with him.

And so that’s where her feet carried her. She did her best to keep a light smile on her face, not allowing the scowl to take over for everyone to witness. Her hands anxiously held onto the straps of her tote bag, her fingernail running across the ridges of the fabric in some piss-poor attempt to self soothe before entering Levi’s cabin.

Walking up the steps, she paused right in front of the door, taking in a deep breath, Whatever needs to happen, will happen. You’ll be okay. With a final attempt to comfort herself and calm her anxieties, she knocked on the door.



code by valen t.
 
Last edited:

  • Pre-Truth or Dare: Billie & Leon​

    Hot on Billie’s heels, Leon snatches up a reusable shopping bag from the hanging bar on the countertops’ side, shoving granola bars and pretzel packets in for later—a habit picked up real fast after his first few stints at the Sunspot without any carbs to soak up the alcohol consumption—and keeping an eye trained on the screen door she’d slipped out of. He moves around the kitchen quickly, using the cover of gathering the snacks as an excuse for his sharp turn to follow the newcomer.

    Well… that could’ve been worse.

    “Tell me about it,” Leon sheepishly pushes through, hoisting the bags’ strap over his shoulder. His eyes linger on the untameable waves of dark hair, as carefree as herself and thinks, damn, she’s not a figment of my imagination after all. A far cry from how he’d inwardly prayed, only moments ago, that Mack’s arrival was simply an apparition.

    He wasn’t waiting for her to turn around, but the first glimpse of her face carried him forward, the distance closing quicker than intended—not stopping until both of his hands snake beneath her hair to hold the sides of her neck, tilting her head upwards. I need to end that before I think of starting this. His own words haunt him, stopping him short.

    “I missed you,” he admits quietly.

    Hearing Leon’s voice made the farmer’s shoulders sink, a quiet sigh escaping as she pressed a hand to her chest—relieved she didn’t have to fake her way through another conversation.

    “Leon,” she greeted warmly, though whatever question she had in mind faded the moment his hands cupped the sides of her neck. Warm was her first thought and Billie leaned into it slightly, her thumbs brushing against the skin of his wrists. She wanted to say something—maybe something funny, something honest—but all that came out was another soft, breathy, “Hi.”

    Their eyes met, and for a fleeting second, she thought solemnly, why couldn’t we sit together? Her grin was there, but he could probably see right through it as exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and she wondered if he felt the same. Some dinner, huh?

    The admission tugged at her already dampened mood, anxiety still pooling in the pit of her stomach as she recalled how…awkward dinner had been. “I’ve missed you too,” she admitted, the usual cheer in her voice gone. Instead, it was laced with pure honesty, uncaring if her vulnerability was laid bare for him to see. Can’t always be happy, right?

    She exhaled softly, tilting her head just slightly, searching his face. “No way the supervisor had a rough time. What happened?”

    Complaining didn’t feel right. Dinner was fine, even as Harper joined them and flipped over his mental hourglass, sand dwindling down for when the Evergreen inevitably reminded them that Renee and Paige may be gone, but their hold lingered. Instead, surprise came in the form of Marquis—his careful mask of nonchalance, twisting a knife in Ricky that Leon wasn’t aware the caregiver held.

    “Not rough. More… surprising,” he chuckles, focusing on the warmth of her hands. Fortunately, it had nothing to do with Billie—the literal personification of an old soul, refusing to be constrained by the perceptions of others… until his eyes, finally, see past the quiet relief pulling at her expression, glimpsing at the hidden anxiety beneath.

    “You have no clue how happy I am to hear that,” she laughed softly, the sound genuine. One hand slipped down his wrist as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, not wanting anything to obscure her vision while looking at him.

    Leons’ hands drift downwards, releasing the hold of her neck to rest his thumbs across her swallow inked collarbone. “Something happen, Billie?” Concern laces his tone—deeper than that of a supervisor staying in the know.

    At his sudden concern, his hand dropping to her collarbone, Billie immediately shook her head, her own worry mirroring his. “Oh, nothing—nothing serious, I swear.” She waved off his concern with a smaller grin before blowing a raspberry and giving a thumbs down. “Social battery is just…” she trailed off, letting the gesture speak for itself. “Happens to the best of us, y’know?”

    A moment passed, the distant hum of conversation from the dining hall filtering through the back door as the newcomer stood still in place. The brunette’s gaze flickered over his face, searching, before she gestured with a subtle tilt of her chin behind him, over his shoulder. “Wanna get out of here, Sailor?”

    Even as she asked, her eyes drifted past him, tracing the outline of the trail leading away from camp. Was it worth it? Leaving, only to return to her shitshow of an apartment? The thought soured in her mind, a heavy reminder that no matter, she was the replacement.

    Billie didn’t want to replace Lisa. But she couldn’t shake the gnawing certainty that’s exactly what these next two weeks would feel like—a shadow, a stand in, a reminder of who was missing.

    It wouldn’t be fair—to anyone.

    His mouth twitches into a reluctant smile at her charming antics. Don’t get distracted. Wanna get out of here, Sailor? Leon’s mind stumbles, then straightens with a glance over his shoulder, off in the direction of Hallow’s Trail—his head snaps back, searching her face for an explanation. She meant literally, and it frightens the indebted part of him; unable to picture a life without those two weeks on campgrounds.

    But—I would, for her.

    “Don’t tempt me, Clover,” moving his hands away from her as the Dining Hall begins to stir with the sounds of clattering silverware and dishes, signalling an end to dinner, Leon gently pokes at the green of her cropped tank. She felt like a good luck charm, one he refused to let leave somewhere he couldn’t follow. “We have a fun night ahead of us. Don’t want you to miss it.”

    An apology pulls at his smile. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to stay—but, he couldn’t watch her go. “Ask me tomorrow.” Leon says, quieter than the uplifting voice he’d used to point out their nightly plan.

    Clover? Billie felt her smile falter—just for a second—but the warmth in her eyes never wavered, bright and steady. That’s…I love that.

    “I love that,” she blurted out before her brain could catch up with her mouth, laughing openly at herself. Something about the nickname—never had one before, the gentle poke at her shirt, the fact that he wanted her to stay—melted something tight in her chest. Least someone doesn’t mind.

    “Well, if it’s as good as you make it sound—” She batted away the lingering anxiety curling around her ribs, letting her smile return as she caught his apologetic one.

    Tomorrow…maybe.” She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face before reaching out, fingers curling around his wrist. Without another thought, she pulled him towards the village, steps light with something close to hope. “Maybe it’ll be a better day, right?”

    Leon watches the apprehension subside from her face with awe, the only thought forming is—we did that. Communicating was hardly a virtue he excelled in; preferring the safety net of white lies and bottled emotions, to nurture resentment in place of letting the chips just fall.

    Chipper over the leaps and bounds he and Billie made in the space of a day, Leon tucks that same strand of hair she blows at behind her ear before allowing her to lead the way towards the village. “One would hope, you know? As long as everyone can do their best not to…” disappear. He didn’t have the mental fortitude to announce another missing counsellor or watch the disappointment shooting his way.

    Shaking off an ill-timed comment, he turns a smile over at Billie. “Wow them tonight, Clover.”

    A moment of silence settled between them, and Billie’s mind drifted to the missing counselor, Lisa, and the two Evergreens. Her lips pressed into a thin line as the thought lingered. Hope…hope they’re found.

    Beside her, Leon walked in quiet contemplation, and without thinking, she tightened her grip around his hand. Their arms swayed lightly between them, and he didn’t have to finish his sentence for her to understand—I get it. She was hoping for the same thing.

    Crossing the field in the direction to the village, Billie caught the faint chatter from a nearby cabin, but it barely held her attention. Instead, her gaze drifted back to Leon, a soft grin growing on her face at the nickname she was quickly becoming obsessed with.

    “Will do my best, dork,” she teased, the words rolling off her tongue with a playful tinge. Then, with a casual shrug, she feigned sheepishness. “You’re the first cabin, right? Might—” she hesitated for a moment, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Might stop by for a quick surprise…still offering that flannel, sailor? I get cold easily.”

    Leon brings their hands up with slight hesitation—a kiss to her hand wouldn't be overstepping, right?—and does just that, the smallest touch of his mouth to her knuckles. The apples of his cheeks lift, a sincere and apologetic smile flashing across his features. “Stop by. I'll have that flannel waiting for you.”

    interactions: leon macmillan lostbird lostbird , billie lennon anyasjoy anyasjoy


 

  • Pre-Truth or Dare: Elodie & Billie ft. Levi​

    This is nice!

    Small stature aside, Elodie felt the need to duck her head upon entering Kestrel Cabin, intimidated by how homely it appeared—still a cabin in the woods, an environment filled with all manner of insects she’d sooner avoid—and yet, a smile pulled at her mouth. I understand why they keep coming back.

    Pulling the singular piece of luggage across the threshold, she searches for an unclaimed bunk and finds an open one on the top right. Eager to sleep as far from the ground as possible, Elodie makes quick work of skidding her suitcase to a halt beside the chosen set of bunks and grins over her shoulder at Billie, “are you close by me?” She drops to her knees as she speaks and flicks the makeshift locks upwards, her heart seizing for a fraction as she thought, shit, hope it doesn’t smell like a street rat died in here, and pulls out articles of clothing she wouldn’t mind seeing ripped. It adds to the rockstar aesthetic anyway.

    “Denim’s gonna be hard to rip without scissors… plenty of worn t-shirts though,” tan fabric is thrown across her lap, a worthy contender as a picture of a sun is displayed in the centre with a pair of sunglasses and a smirk on. Fitting given the conversation moments ago. “Here! Make a hole,” she waves Billie over to join her on the ground, pointing at the shirt in her lap.

    “Above this one, actually.” With a slap against the ladder, a pleased snort escaped the newcomer’s lips as Billie settled beside Elodie on the ground. “My belongings are…kind of obvious, unfortunately.” She admitted, gesturing pointedly towards the garbage bags tucked beneath the bunk with a little grimace.

    Without hesitation, her hand darted forward to grab a t-shirt, seizing the opportunity to steer away from the previous conversation. “I knew you had good taste!”

    Holding the shirt up against her chest, she tilted her head to the side—dark curls briefly obscuring her vision. “Feels uh, wrong making holes, though. You sure you’re not bummed?” Billie asked, lips pushing into a pout as her brows furrowed, sea green eyes lazily drifting to where Ellie sat. Various pieces of clothing covered her lap, and a thought struck her then. I’ve got nothing but time. Could totally cook something up quickly for her.

    Distracted from the task of rifling through clothes Elodie wouldn’t care to see worn and torn—difficult, with how limited the options were—she blinks three times as the plastic bags take shape in her mind, jostling more than one unfortunately familiar memory. No luggage? You sure you’re not bummed?

    “Oh, um. Nah, not even a little. Some of them have aged out, anyway,” she covers up her curiosity with a laugh and points at a pair of socks with an hourglass shaped hole at the heel.

    “Hey, this is so random, but what’s your favorite color?”

    “I should say red,”
    Elodie sizes up a pair of jeans, searching for loose thread. “Rock aesthetic, and all. But… a deep and calming blue might take the cake. Reminds me of my old bedroom.” In an act of betrayal, she looks to the black plastic bags tucked under the bunk. It was wrong to feel hopeful. To think that maybe, maybe, Billie could understand from personal experience.

    Before she can think on it, or stop herself, Elodie blurts out, “Why the trash bags?”

    “Deep blue?”
    Billie’s brows shot up, her whole posture perking with surprise. She had fully expected red—or maybe even a deep orange—to be Elodie’s favorite. It just seemed so fitting.

    But now, hearing it straight from her, the newcomer paused. Yeah…blue makes so much sense. It carried strength, freedom. Those were the things she personally associated with the color—and looking at Elodie now, it actually fit in a way she hadn’t noticed before.

    This time, Billie didn’t hold back the small grin that crept onto her face as she turned her attention back down to the shirt in her hand. “I love that. Makes sense…I’ll keep that in mind.”

    As she considered where she could tear a hole into the T-shirt, the sudden burst of Elodie’s words jolted the farmer, causing her to glance up with wide eyes. Why the trash bags? A rush of air left her lungs, trailing off into a choked laugh. “Stupidly left shopping at the last minute to grab myself a suitcase, and voilà—the town decided to be closed for the morning. Talk about my dumb luck.”

    Oh, that makes sense—”
    Elodie looks skyward, duh, obviously written in her expression as she mimics Billie’s laugh. There was no justifiable reason to feel disappointed. It was good that the epitome of sunshine across from her might not know hardship in the form of homelessness. She knew that. But, her lips curl inwards, it would be nice to relate.

    Instead of dwelling on the impossibility of connection, Elodie tags onto those final words, “Small towns are so strange. Portland never sleeps.” She reveals, plucking free a strand of thread from the jeans. “It’s impossible to get some decent shut-eye.”

    Encouragingly, she nods at the shirt idle in Billie’s hands. Rip it up, girl. And, to distract her from thinking otherwise, Elodie sizes her up. “Green must be your favourite colour. Am I right?”

    “Portland?”
    Blinking, Billie gripped the edge of the t-shirt, fingers curling tightly as she tugged with a huff—more hope than effort. Lifting her gaze to meet Elodie’s, she offered the aspiring musician an apologetic pout. My bad. “Never been before—or at least, I don’t think I’ve passed through?”

    Her tongue peeked out at the corner of her mouth, concentration written all over her face as she tried to work quickly. How many clothes are we ripping again? “I’m a Cali girl. Monterey, near the water.” She shook her head, pulling a face as old memories crept in, the sudden emotion of feeling trapped resurfacing. “Too small for my big personality, personally.”

    Green must be your favourite colour. At the question directed at her, the farmer paused, a different shirt dangling loosely in her hands until a grin slowly spread across her face. “Yes! Am I that obvious?” She struck a playful pose before turning her attention back to her task, completely missing the sound of footsteps approaching behind her.

    “Totally an earth tone girl. Yellows, greens, blues—even browns.”

    Called it. Elodie’s posture straightens with a self-satisfied grin, folding the ripped t-shirt over her lap.

    Hope I’m not about to intrude. Levi, possibly the most awkward he’d ever felt in his life, approached the Kestrel cabin clutching a fluffy, oversized bundle of red fabric. It hung partially off his shoulder, trailing a bit as he skipped the steps entirely and found himself standing directly in front of the door.

    From where he stood, he could just make out the muffled sound of chatter inside—soft-spoken and subdued, not the usual riotous laughter and shrieking that echoed when all the girls were gathered together. Casting a quick glance towards the other designated cabins, he spotted counselors moving in and out as if they couldn’t make up their minds. Chinook?

    Swallowing hard to clear his throat, Levi muttered a quiet screw it to himself and knocked on the door. “Uh. Elodie, right? Leon told me—” Before he could finish, a rush of footsteps approached and the door flung open.

    Standing before him was someone clearly not impressed—arms crossed, hip cocked, expression flat. “You’re not Leon.”

    “And you’re not Elodie,”
    he shot back without missing a beat, leaning slightly to peer past her. He was grateful to find the room nearly empty, save for one girl seated cross-legged on the floor. Her posture and expression pegged her immediately as the city native he was looking for.

    He also didn’t miss the coordinated spread of Liberty’s neatly arranged red—or was it beige?—belongings tucked behind the singer’s back.

    “Were you interested in coming to the Sunspot tonight?”

    Feeling very much that she was in the hands of good company, Elodie clambers to a standing position and gestures at her open suitcase with a sheepish grin. “You bet! I’m figuring out a costume—thinking of a homeless girl,” her brows lift high, locking eyes with Levi. Play along. “Smart, right?” Even if it meant the destruction of her worn clothes.

    Stepping around the suitcase, she comes to stand beside Billie—not intending to block his entrance into the cabin, and quickly shuffles aside to give him an opening. “Is that your costume?” She nods at the bundle of red fabric in his grasp, eyeing it curiously. “Firetruck red would suit you, Levi.”

    Assuming he was allowed inside, Levi ducked his head as he stepped into the cabin, awkwardly keeping his back to the door. He wasn’t exactly sure what was making him feel this uncertain—was it the fact that he’d nearly scared the hell out of one of the newcomers earlier that morning? Probably. Yeah, sounds about right.

    “Homeless girl?” He repeated, one brow lifting as his eyes dropped to the scattered clothes on the cabin floor—some torn, others full of holes, bunched by his feet. The alarm bells were going off again, his suspicions clicking into place. “Yeah, smart,” he said with a huff of a chuckle. “But you’ll freeze out there tonight.”

    Catching Elodie’s nod, he followed the gesture with his eyes, then looked back down at the bundle of fluff in his arms. Oh—right. “Ha, no. His tone was dry, but not unkind—a hint of a smile breaking through as he tried not to let Leilani’s confession weigh down the night too much.

    Still, he played along for the newcomers’ sake, holding up the blanket and lifting it beside her strawberry colored strands to compare. “Eh, red’s more your speed,” He said, eyes meeting hers. Then, with a casual toss, he handed the blanket over and crossed his arms across his chest. “It’s for you, though,” he added. “Figured you might need something warm tonight. Hope that’s alright.”

    The pause barely lasted a breath.

    “Holy fuck, Neo from The Matrix?” Billie’s eyes went wide as she took half a step towards him—Levi? Levie? Either way. “Sick choice. That’s a really good movie.” Her eyes flicked over the long coat. “The jacket’s spot on. Where’s Trinity, Neo?”

    Levi tried—tried—to keep the smile off his face, but the movie buff in him was pleased that someone understood the reference. “Good catch,” let’s hope others don’t disappoint me tonight. “I’ve gotta go find her, actually.”

    Elodie’s bottom lip lifts into a soft pout, taken aback by his thoughtfulness. Once again, he proved her vendetta against the rich would become marginally more difficult. She plays with the ends of her hair as her attention is torn between the both of them—with how sideways her journey to arrive in Easthallow went, she’d thought this was a waste of time and would surely be a scam in the end. Though, with how she felt settling in so far, it seemed to be the only decision she’d never come to regret.

    “Thanks,” she releases her hair to accept the costume, uncaring for what it even was, too caught up in the emotion of being considered. There was no look of disgust as he regarded her, or any whispered comments of—She looks cold. Do you have any change?—followed by a stern refusal, assuming she’d buy out the liquor store with five bucks.

    Where’s Trinity, Neo? Elodie didn’t know those people, but assuming it meant a person with a matching costume was lingering around, she smirks and hooks a hand around Billie’s elbow. A united front as she presses, “You too, hey? I thought this was a summer camp, not the filming set of Singled Out.”

    Levi immediately cleared his throat, catching how visibly Elodie wore her emotions on her sleeve. Please don’t cry, he thought, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth before he quickly reined it in, replacing it with a faint, reassuring smile and a small nod. “It’s no problem—I don’t even know what the fuck it is,” he added, tilting his head as he watched her accept the red material. “I guess a blanket?”

    At the light hearted ganging up from the two girls, Levi let out a scoffing laugh, shaking his head as the shaggy strands of his hair fell over his forehead. “What can I say?” He began, drawing it out for absolutely no reason, fully aware it was a simple yes-or-no question. “Anything’s possible at Camp Evergreen.” His tone was lighter than usual, likely surprising to them both.

    With a quick nod towards the cabin, he reached for the door handle. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you at the sunspot soon.” He gave an awkward little salute, then slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him as he parted ways with the girls.

    Tripping over her words, and the cabin’s threshold, Elodie braces her hands on the door frame as she calls out after Levi. “Tell Trin-Trinity I’m looking forward to meeting her!” Her fingers drum against the wood, watching him go. She didn’t care if the red fabric was a blanket or an oversized pillow case—it would be worn and treasured.

    Billie watched the door click shut behind Elodie’s friend. He seems…nice? She wondered, turning on her heel to face her new friend, her gaze brightening as it landed on the splash of red.

    Teeth grazing her lower lip, she tilted her head, clearly debating where to start unraveling whatever Ellie’s costume was supposed to be. “Sorry about your clothes,” she said, then continued forward. “That was pretty cool of him, though, right? But I think it’s time we get this party-for-two started!”

    With that, the farmer bounced towards her side of the bunk, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against her chin. Wolf. Red Riding Hood wolf, right.

    “Let’s get ready for tonight,” she called over her shoulder, then glanced back with a mischievous glint. “Wanna race?”

    “You bet.”
    Elodie turns, unravelling the red fabric from its confines—and bursts into unbridled laughter. Google-y eyes half-heartedly stitched at the crown of the hood, a mesh piece acting as the ‘mouth’ of the costume, and tufts of red fur sitting on a bed of cotton resembles none other than a melted Elmo.

    She shucks off her jacket in one smooth motion, tossing it carelessly on the first bed in her path, and sets her sight of the costume in Billie’s grasp. “Cute mask,” and, feeling bold from the upbeat atmosphere, she approaches to tap her newest friend’s temple. “But a cuter face. If I were Leon, I’d be disappointed about missing out.”

    In the same beat of being slightly too honest, Elodie glances up at the clock above the door and nods along to the timely tick. “On the count of three. One, two… three—!”

    interactions: elodie matthews lostbird lostbird , billie lennon & levi jackson anyasjoy anyasjoy


 

  • Truth or Dare: Alton → Ezzy​

    The Sunspot rarely exuded high spirit energy on the night of Truth or Dare. Typically fraught with the strain only an Evergreen could bring—and from where Leon stood just outside of the circle, the lone Bloodline didn’t seem as hellbent on carving the night into her own personal slice of entertainment.

    Fishbowl in hand, a makeshift jar for the list of counsellor names scribbled down, Leon shakes the glass with a single-hand and an anticipatory grin. Something new for once. Gesturing to the circle to pay attention, he steps between where Juliette and Connie sat—an empty space reserved for him—and launches into his worst fear: public speaking.

    Thanks everyone for giving this tradition another chance. He knows which word needs to be crossed out indefinitely after that morning. “Same old, same old. Don’t think even our newbies need much explanation as far as Truth or Dare goes. But we have a new way of deciding things this time around,” another shake of the jar, about time, “happy pickings. I’ll pull our first name to nominate who goes first—and the same rules apply: if you choose truth or dare and are unsatisfied with the prompt, you’re free to switch… but you must do that option. Can’t swap to what might then be the easiest option.”

    Plucking the first name out from the jar, he fights for his expression not to fall—oh, boy, he flips the paper between his fingers, showing it to the circle, “Alton, start us off.”

    Alt never gave a shit about this “tradition.” Last year, he’d zoned out while Renee had gone about burning bridges and rolling in the ashes like a blonde chinchilla. Yet here he was again. At least he had had the forethought to wear something where he could easily check out. The campfire that sat squat in the middle of them all barely licked the cold from underneath his white sheet. He’d lifted his glasses earlier, after plopping down on a blanket he’d brought, to see who he was seated next to. On his right side was Marcey and on his other side was a guy he’d never seen. There was an assortment of new faces that he wished he had the foresight to warn. But then again, maybe this year would be tamer. Something in his gut said “no.”

    He pulled himself up into a more astute sitting position instead of the relaxed one he’d taken with his elbows propping him up. Engaging his core to speak through the sheet, over the crackle of fire, and across the murmur of the people around him.

    “Ezzy.” There wasn’t any humor in his voice. It was dry like the summer around them, a crackle to it like the leaves. “Truth or dare?”

    Ezzy wasn’t sure what to expect from this year. Part of him—the part that was prone to wishful thinking and believed in manifestation—figured that it had to go better than last year. The bar was low and Renee wasn’t there to limbo under it, but that was the problem. The power vacuum left behind would not go unnoticed, Ezzy was certain of it. At least with Renee everyone knew what to expect. Walking in blind was marginally worse.

    Ezzy wore the exact same outfit as last year—much like a cartoon character, ironically—green shirt and brown pants screaming scooby doo. He was without his scooby snacks, though, and he had made the bold decision to be sober. There was bound to be talk about the disappearances and he wanted to be able to make mental notes.

    He glanced over at Alton as he heard his name. Guess they would be the ones kicking things off.

    “Dare,” he answered.

    “Probably for the best,” Alt remarked. “Who knows how high you are. Getting the truth out of you might end up as a two-hour-long story about you buying a hotdog one time.” No one could see him wring his hands underneath his sheet as he was trying to quickly make up an interesting dare without causing Ezzy distress. Just because Alt didn’t think the game’s atmosphere would change from last year didn’t mean he needed to contribute.

    “I dare you to pick someone in this circle and imitate them until they, not anyone else, guesses it. And it can’t be me, obviously.”

    Ezzy would’ve been offended by Alton’s comment if it wasn’t probably true. Uh… Shit. He glanced around the circle, picking through the faces as his mind blanked and trying to find one that would be able to laugh at whatever he got up to.

    Ricky he knew the best. But that was not the play. Mack would be fun, he reasoned, but in the end he went with the easy option, someone he knew would be able to clock the impression immediately. It might not be funny to everyone else, but that wasn’t his problem.

    He stood up, looking across the circle, slightly to the left, for the signature brown hair. He shifted his expression into one that was accustory.

    “I’m armed!” he declared, then paused and added. “Not…with a gun, with pepper spray. Which, I don’t recommend.”

    Elodie hums low, undeniably muffled by the onesie’s material clinging to her skin. Shifting side to side, she peers through the black mesh of the costume to find the most likely culprit to own pepper spray. It couldn’t be Mister Security down to the left of her, he must always have a gun at hand—and then, her arm shoots up as if she were in a classroom. “Nic!”

    Liberty might've been able to venture a guess near the mark if it weren't for the reproachful expression Ezzy adopted. She had half a mind to roll her eyes—no one in this circle had the guts to point fingers, only simmer in silence. “Mack?” She offers half-heartedly.

    Mack was leaning back, wrapped up in her large fur coat, revelling in the warmth it provided against the backdrop of the forest’s increasingly cold breeze. She sat forward to shrug theatrically as though she’d been caught thieving red-handed in a children’s pantomime, “You think me that dramatic?”

    A guy wouldn’t think they need pepper spray…must be a girl. Biting the inside of her cheek, Juliette let her gaze drift around the group, the firelight flickering warm against her skin. She lifted her drink to her lips, taking a slow, generous sip as she surveyed her options.

    “Who are you thinking?” she murmured to her side, tilting her head slightly in Leon’s direction before glancing away, her expression darkening the moment her eyes landed on Connie. Ugh, right. How could I forget? The scowl came instinctively. “I’m thinking it’s a girl,” she mused, keeping her voice low. “Might say Annie.”

    Leon sways slightly in thought, eyes fixing on each counsellor and repeating the imitation in his mind. “Sounds like something I'd say, to be honest,” he responds to Juliette with a helpless laugh. There was just no recollection of ever saying something close to those words with Ezzy.

    His eyes widened at the former lifeguard's guess. Has to be her. Want to guess together on the count of three?”

    “Ooo! Ooo!”
    Bonnie pointed towards Shiloh with the kind of confidence that came with absolutely zero concrete evidence. “That totally looks like a you face. You have to carry pepper spray as a cop too right?” Cops didn’t always have to carry or use their guns did they? If so her theory fell short but pepper spray felt like the middle ground between telling someone to stop and actually having to arrest them.

    “Annie.”

    “Annie.”


    The blonde in question’s head popped up at the sound of her name being thrown into the mix, amused smile tugging at her lips. She did have a small bottle of pepper spray—the kind that would stain her target hot pink should the liquid come into contact with them—which she kept in her favorite purse, but— “Like I’d warn them beforehand… Totally defeats the purpose.” In hindsight, Annalise should’ve thought to bring the small canister into town that afternoon—it certainly would have sped up their tense exchange with Dakota.

    The newcomer farmer sank deeper into her bean bag, one arm wrapped around her leg as she hugged it close to her chest, chin resting on top. Her gaze bounced around the circle, watching as everyone tried to piece together the answer. Impossible. Good luck, everyone!

    Amusement danced behind her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she subtly shifted to her right, doing her best to keep her movements casual. Leaning in ever so slightly, she spoke quickly under her breath to Harper. “Say it’s me. It’s a long story, but it’s more fun if someone else guesses right.”

    Turning her attention away from the inner circle in favor of Billie’s voice, Harper wore a curious gaze now—piqued by the vague explanation of a reenactment concerning without context. Quickly, she turned back and answered through a slight raise of her voice toward Ezzy, ensuring that confidence seeped to drown out the questioning tone. “It’s Billie,” she answered, bringing the rim of her solo cup back to her lips before throwing a look at the farmer again. Deets later.

    Ezzy shook his head dutifully to all the wrong answers in turn, though he could see the point in every one. It could have been any of them.

    Billie.

    His face pulled into a dumb grin and he nodded, raising one hand beside his head and pretending to ring a bell, as if it were a wrestling match.

    “Ding, ding, ding, the Evergreen’s got it,” he said in congratulations, taking a moment to give Billie a half-apologetic, half-teasingly-not-sorry-at-all look before sitting back down.

    “Good start, Alt,” he added.

    Bodie looked over at Harper and Harper’s new friend. “Hey, if we’re going to co-conspire, loop me in next time,” he said with a grin. He leaned closer to Harper, brushing her shoulder with his and giving it a slight nudge. Billie had been introduced to him earlier, and he hadn’t quite figured out what to make of her. She was–peculiar. But any friend of Harper’s was a friend of his.

    He sipped his cup, which smelled less like something one would pour into their body and more like something they’d used to clean oil-color paint brushes. But if anyone could throw one back at this little soiree, it was him.

    The jar of names offered Leon a way to fidget his way through the imitation, at a loss for who in the circle would need pepper spray of all things—and Annie hadn’t helped matters with her slow crawl of a smile, his and Juliette’s answer cut down with a shake of Ezzy’s head in the same instant. Damn.

    Billie’s name slipping from Harper’s mouth fits the puzzle piece into place. One that fits not from the time he’d spent with her today, but because it was Ezzy. Oh. Probably could’ve considered who Ezzy knew well. It was easier to focus on his over-complication of the dare rather than mulling over why Billie would need to threaten Ezzy—the thought was enough to pull his mouth into a subtle frown.

    At the confirmation she already suspected, Billie let out a small, relieved sigh, mentally wiping the back of her hand across her forehead in exhausted fashion. She shot Harper a grateful look, flashing a thumbs up as a silent promise to talk afterwards. It’s nothing serious.

    But for now—her attention shifted back to a particular supervisor. From where she sat, she had to tilt her head slightly sideways to catch his gaze. Leaning forward onto her knees, she abandoned her drink between her legs, letting it rest untouched on the ground. Instead, she cupped her face with both hands, eyes gleaming with reassurance as she mouthed, I’ll explain it all later, promise!

    Grateful that their seating ended up this way—with Billie opposite enough for him to, at the very least, communicate—Leon gives a subtle thumbs up and shoots a reassuring wink her way. Looking forward to that story. It wasn’t insincere or lacking in intention, but he wasn’t positive his concern was properly washed from his expression.

    Of course it was Billie. It really shouldn’t matter that much, considering it was just a silly dare in a middle school game, but there was something that got under Ricky’s skin about Ezzy seeming to choose Billie every time the option presented itself. He wasn’t usually the jealous type, and his own sudden surge of the emotion was bothering him and making him feel guilty for it, but at the same time every time he told himself his jealousy wasn’t justified and had no basis in reality, Ezzy chose Billie. Again. And why wouldn’t he? Billie seemed very cheerful and nice, and Ricky was being much quieter than usual, watching everything play out while drinking from a red solo cup. Loosen up, Ricky, it’s just a game. Can’t be any worse than last year. Keep your mind on what’s important–your friends.

    Alt gave a half-hearted thumbs up to Ezzy, not that anyone could see it underneath his sheet. He then laid back, looking less like a ghost and more like a wadded-up fitted sheet that someone had stuck glasses on. The next thing he knew, a jar was dropped next to him. Right. He was so used to Renee yelling at people that it was their turn that he’d forgotten about the macguffin that would choose the next name.

    He pulled himself up again and slid an arm out from his sheet, somewhat pale but not as ghastly as his costume. He then held the paper close to his face and lifted his glasses as if he’d aged forty years in the past moment. It was more so that there wasn’t the best light. “Marcey.” He remarked flatly before realizing that she was right next to him. Right. How had he forgotten that? He just moved the jar to the other side of himself by Marcey.

    interactions: leon macmillan, elodie matthews, liberty fallon lostbird lostbird , alton chambers, bodie isidore blue UP blue UP , ezzy arrington ocie ocie , billie lennon & juliette yorkes anyasjoy anyasjoy , ricky sanford hotsauce hotsauce , mack griffin opaline opaline , harper evergreen minajesty minajesty , annalise cartwright lvcid lvcid


 

  • Truth or Dare: Lani Support Group​

    Forgoing part of her costume—the cellophane crafted wings—had been Connie’s best decision as she abandoned her space between Leon and Elodie to take off after the distraught counselor. Even the dress worked in her favor, contorting with her haste fluidly instead of holding her back as she neared the top of the staircase leading away from the glowing Sunspot. Her feet took her far, she moved with a mission in mind—but the sight of her friend on her knees after the last step elicited a choked gasp from her.

    Oh god, she fell, she fell, was the first panicked thought that came to mind as the boating instructor darted at a decline, nearly tripping over herself when she mistakenly skipped a wooden step. But, the fairy lights woven around the railings that banished the darkness, coupled with the sound of Leilani’s soft pleas to Renee, shook the worst of her worries off.

    She’s not hurt, butJust help me, please, I’m not giving up on us. Connie frowned as she slowed to a cautious pace, not wanting to startle her friend. Broken. Completely.

    Nothing but feet pounding on the path beneath her and tears flying off her face as she ran. Renee loves me. I’ll find her and she’ll help me with my father. It will be okay, Memories of their time together flooded her head; their time spent sitting next to each other at meals, taking mindless nature walks, and all their nights spent in the lodge. Leilani felt as though she had truly fallen in love with Renee, so much so that Renee’s eyes had been burned in her memory, and gave her a hauntingly beautiful look every time she closed her eyes.

    Seeing Renee in her vision, Leilani fell to her knees on the dirt, and let the tears flow. No longer caring about the makeup she spent so long on, or even getting glitter all over her hands, the young artist flung her hands to cover her face. Her sobs and cries echoing against the small surface of her hands before ricocheting out into the night.

    “Renee please,” the cries broke out into the night, “Just help me, please, I’m not giving up on us.”

    After Connie left the last steps down to Leilani’s side behind, a quiet, uneven breath sounded from her, announcing her presence before any comforting words ever could. “Lani it’s—it’s okay.” We still love you. We still accept you. Her own personal qualms with the Evergreen aside, her friend’s romantic relationship didn’t prod any feelings out of her, minus confusion:
    Why? Why Renee? She berated you, and you still found something worth loving. A beat as the thought sank heavier, deeper. Did she…take after Paige…?

    The boating instructor blinked hard as the edges of the thought began fraying into something she didn’t want to look at too closely. No. No, not like that. Renee was different. Paige was different. Safe. Familiar. Kind. Even though her sharper days felt like stepping too close to a fire, it didn’t burn—even when it should have; it just warmed her to the bone.

    Connie didn’t have the words for it: She never needed them before. Not when it came to women, and not for Paige—a close friend. But Leilani’s earlier confession, raw and unfiltered, echoed through her: We’ve been in love for four years. In love…

    Could Connie even say that about anyone other than Ricky? Could she ever feel that about Paige?

    She swallowed—hard—as the question squeezed around her heart like a feeling halfway between fear and desire, and she didn’t know which scared her more.

    Ricky had been momentarily stunned as Leilani had left, swallowing his empathetic reaction to seeing his friend crying as she had run off, watching Connie head after her before following behind his ex-girlfriend. He was sure-footed, quick on these paths since he had traveled them for years, nearly keeping pace with Connie, though her head start allowed her to be a bit in front of him as the two followed Leilani’s voice. Four whole years? And she never said anything? His sense of the people around him was confused, a drop in his stomach as he realized he didn’t know his best friend quite as well as he thought. The alcohol blurred his thoughts as he tried to remember a time where he had seen the two women act remotely romantic. It was almost funny that he was thinking about romance again while he was practically on Connie’s heels as they raced toward Leilani.

    He arrived just in time to hear Leilani pleading into the darkness for Renee. He frowned, digging his nails into his palms. He felt so helpless. Fuck, I shouldn’t have drank tonight. I thought I was helping, but all I managed to do was make things worse. He paused, standing next to Connie, and took a few deep breaths. He had to keep it together for her sake, if nothing else.

    Lani it’s—it’s okay. He should say something too, shouldn’t he? Anything to help Leilani feel better, to allow her to let herself open up to her friends. Because Ricky loved her, fiercely, like she was one of his sisters. “We’re here for you,” he added lamely onto Connie’s statement, glancing at his ex to see if she had any ideas on how to help. He had to forget the events at the campfire–right now, his only priority was making sure Leilani would be okay. Or at least, calm her down somewhat. He felt the prick of sympathy tears and swallowed it down. Leilani would be okay, right?

    A stinging sensation rang out throughout the artist’s body; from behind her eyes, her chest, her stomach, her knees- my knees? Through her blurred vision, her eyes fought to focus on her knees, finally seeing the cause of their pain; evidence that she had tripped and fallen over the last step; the real reason for falling onto her knees.

    Compared to the emotional turmoil that was tearing through her heart, her scraped knees felt nothing more than a paper cut. Leilani quickly ignored her knees as sobs continued raking through her body, her chest heaving in a pathetic attempt to catch her breath. Why did I do that? Now everyone knows, my father is going to know. Just at the thought of her father finding out who his daughter was, Leilani felt her stomach churn.

    I’ve done so much to keep it a secret. Now it’s all worthless.

    She flinched at the sound of her friends, being pulled out of swimming in her delusions of Renee, thrown back into reality, “No,” it started as a whisper, slowly growing to insane ramblings, “No, no no no, no!” Another round of tears began pouring out of her eyes as she cried out again, “Nothing is okay, nothing!” Her hands found her face once more, further curling in on herself away from her friends.

    I can’t even look at them. How could they even look at me? New emotions had added themselves to the mix; shame and guilt. Leilani had always ignored them in the past, having Renee’s presence there to comfort her; to silence the fears of what others would think. But without her there, Lani was open and vulnerable to all the shame and guilt in the world. They hate me, why are they here? I know they hate me, how could they not? Not only had Leilani just admitted to being in a romantic relationship with Renee Evergreen; the very person most of the camp counselors hated and despised. They’ll never look at me the same. My father’s right; I'm disgusting.

    “Just leave me alone!” The words slipped through her cries, “Don’t lie and pretend to understand, just go!” She couldn’t help how sharp and harsh her words sounded on the way out of her mouth, but she simply couldn’t help it. If they can realize it sooner than later, it saves me the false security of friendship.

    The group’s comforting snapshot didn’t last long as Leilani pulled away from them all, rejecting their comfort and yelling to not follow her. Zarina wanted to respect her request – she felt like it would be overstepping a boundary if she followed behind, forcing Lani to accept her comfort when they had only just met. But despite Leilani’s demand, Connie and Ricky followed without hesitation and Zarina was quick on their heels.

    A braver version of her might have turned to the others, asking how they could just sit there while Lani cried. Are they really going to continue the game after all this? Perhaps the kind welcome she’d naively perceived was crumbling; with the cover of alcohol and a game, had they uncovered who they really were? It made Zarina uncomfortable.

    Zarina reached the bottom of the steps after Ricky, hesitating beside him as Leilani yelled at them to leave her alone, flinching a bit at her lashing tone. She was torn – when Zarina was upset, she didn’t want to be overwhelmed with attention either. Sometimes crying it out in peace was the only way to feel human again. On the other hand, this was such a heavy thing for Lani to carry on her own and it was obviously crushing her under its weight. She couldn’t ignore the way her own heart squeezed with each sob.

    Gently, slowly, Zarina knelt next to the artist despite her rejection, hesitantly putting a hand on her back. “You’re right – it’s not okay,” she rubbed her back awkwardly, comfortingly, a tactic she’d used on many a younger sibling or cousin she’d tried to soothe.

    “And I don’t understand everything, but…” she glanced back at Lani’s friends – friends she was much closer with – should I have let one of them do this? Despite her hesitation, the words kept tumbling out of her as she looked back at Lani. “... forget the people at the bonfire. I know your friends still care about you or they wouldn’t have followed you here. They – we… we just want to be here for you if you’ll let us. W-we don’t even have to talk, right?” She threw another glance back at Lani’s friends she’d only met this evening, a silent plea for help to de-escalate the sobbing girl.

    Leilani wanted to recoil further, to stand and run away from those who followed her; especially once she felt a hand on her back, the voice connecting to Zarina. Fuck. She’s going to hate me too. She kept her face buried in her hands, desperately gasping for air as she tried to force herself to stop crying. They all hate me, I’m disgusting.

    “We just want to be here for you if you’ll let us”

    She couldn’t help how her eyes shot over to Zarina, before quickly looking to Connie and then Ricky. Her eyebrows felt permanently furrowed in a pained state, her anxieties fighting the reality of her friends caring about her. It didn’t help that Renee haunted her every time she closed her eyes. If Leilani thought about it for too long, she could hear Renee’s berating voice, the echoes of last year’s Sunspot traditions and the disgusting rumors that she had spread about her. The ones that Liberty had only fanned the flames of just a few moments ago. The saddest part of it all was how Leilani overlooked those rumors just for the sake of loving Renee.

    She’s just misunderstood, the artist would tell herself, unable to find or recognize true fault in the blonde, once she felt her affections were returned. There had been a dynamic shift in how Leilani read Renee’s behaviors once she felt accepted by her. It’s not like anybody else would accept me, Renee actually loved me back. And in just that small sentiment, Leilani would never let on that it hurt to hear Renee accusing her of being a whore. Experiencing the love of a woman for the first time was all Leilani brought herself to think about as she navigated her relationship with Renee.

    But now Renee was gone. And the artist was left to carry her grief alone, as well as the secret of who she truly was.

    “No,” her protest was weaker as she looked at Zari next to her. Her flight instinct told her to swat Zarina’s hand away, to move away from the group as a whole and yell at them to leave her alone. But she couldn’t find it in her to willingly remove any comforting touch at the moment. In her loneliness since Renee’s disappearance, Leilani found herself incredibly touch-starved. But she could never say anything about it.

    Well, technically now, the cat was out of the bag.

    “You all should leave,” her chest still heaved rapidly, her cries showed no signs of stopping, “Unless you want everyone else to rip you to shreds like they did me,” The artist couldn’t keep her eyes still as they bounced between the three of them, her head felt as if it was vibrating; maybe it was a mix of adrenaline and anxiety, with a hint of pain from her scraped and bleeding knees. “I know you all hate me, I hate me, so just leave me alone!” There was a pathetic attempt at yelling at them, but her voice broke and crumbled before her face fell into her hands again.

    Ricky’s face fell at that, brows creasing with a mixture of emotions that left a complicated feeling in his stomach. It was hard to tell which he felt strongest–concern, pain, sadness, or guilt. In the end, concern won out and he took a step closer, treating his best friend like a scared cat curling in on itself and ready to bolt at any moment. He bit his lip, a general sign that he was anxious, as he processed her words.

    “I don’t hate you, Lani,” he said softly, subconsciously crouching a bit to be closer to her level on the ground. He frowned, trying to articulate his feelings in a way that would actually be helpful to Leilani. “I could never hate you. And I don’t care what they say about me, okay? That kind of thing doesn’t matter when we know the truth.” He paused, running his tongue over his teeth in thought. “We care about you, Lani. So much.” He offered her a small smile, tempered by sadness but genuine nonetheless. He tried to think of a joke to release the tension before realizing that this was definitely not the time for levity. All he could really do was stay by her side and try to offer some feeble comfort. Regardless of what happened, regardless of how he felt about Renee and the fact that Leilani had kept something this big from everyone, he had nothing but love for her in his heart.

    Meanwhile, Miriam had watched the group take off after Leilani, hardly hesitating as they dashed through the trees after her. For a moment, she glanced over at Nic and the others who seemed to be heading away from the circle in another direction, craving the relief that a smoke break would bring. But she took a deep breath. I should start thinking of someone besides myself for once. God, she was really going to follow them into what would surely be an awkward, uncomfortable conversation, wouldn’t she? Maybe she did care about people she barely knew after all.

    With a huff of breath, Miriam followed where the small group had gone, using the cadence of a conversation ahead of her as a guide, emerging into the fold to see Leilani kneeling on the ground, Zarina next to her. God, these guys are all so nice. If I had run off, would anyone other than Nic care at all? She frowned, stepping forward to join the circle, not speaking yet, just watching and trying to come up with something remotely helpful to say. She was never good in these sorts of situations, always more prone to acidity than honey-laced comfort. Then she remembered the photo she had brought with her, intending to find a moment to get Leilani alone to ask about it, and figured it might be a good time to give it to her now that she knew the truth. She just stood there for several moments, though, not wanting a crowd to witness her pulling that photo from her pocket.

    There the artist sat, broken and further falling apart in front of, possibly the only friends she had left in the world. And she wasn’t even sure how long she would keep those friends. Eventually giving up on ever getting up to walk any further from her crying heap on the floor, she further curled into herself, wrapping her arms around herself to imagine Renee holding her.

    Still shaking her head, with tears steadily streaming down her face, “No, no, you aren’t listening, I’m in love with Renee, I have been for years,” She once again hid her face in her hands, shame being the overwhelming feeling washing over her. “He’s going to know, he’s going to find out,” He’s going to kill me, “Everyone’s going to hate me, I’m disgusting,” Leilani once again broke down in more sobs, any words becoming further incoherent, finally saying the words out loud, how she really felt about herself; and how she knew others felt about her.

    When Renee was with her, it didn’t matter if anyone else would find her disgusting. Because they loved each other, and she knew Renee would protect her from anyone’s scrutiny. The only scrutiny Leilani ever faced was Renee’s. And I always deserved it. It was because I did something wrong. It was because I was being a bad girlfriend and she was helping me realize that.

    But in the absence of Renee Evergreen, Leilani Iona was left exposed, vulnerable to the masses; the very same masses who Renee poked with a white-hot iron and now raging in her wake. Leilani didn’t have anyone, she was convinced. Nobody that would comfort and support her like Renee did.

    I need to leave. If I can go back to the cabin, I could get my keys and just drive away. Renee will find me eventually. Hopefully before he does.

    Miriam raised an eyebrow, feeling a wave of empathy. All these “I love you Lani” sentiments were getting them all nowhere; she might as well try to help out, even though she was worried her lack of ability in soothing people would make things worse somehow. Still, she had to say something. Despite her seemingly passive observation of everything happening today, she wasn’t the type to just stand around and watch things happen most of the time.

    “You’re not the first person to fall in love with someone like her,” Miriam responded, arms crossed. “At least one other person certainly did. And I know you’re not saying you’re disgusting because you fell in love with a woman.” Her black eyeliner-rimmed stare did not back down. “It sounds to me like you’re not listening. Everyone here is saying they care about you. You don’t need to isolate yourself.” Well, that came out harsher than I intended. Hopefully she doesn’t take it the wrong way. She let out a breath, aware how completely out of her element she was at the moment.

    The more Leilani protested her presence, the more Zarina wanted to stay by the woman’s side. Whoever had hurt her, had made her feel like she deserved to be hated or like she was disgusting… it made Zarina feel sick. In the short time she’d known her, Leilani had seemed like one of the kindest people she’d ever met. Though she hadn’t known many gay people in her life before then, she didn’t see how loving a woman changed that.

    She wondered if anyone at the camp would truly make Leilani a pariah for loving a woman, or if perhaps the anger would be more directed about who she had loved… thinking back to the earlier dare where two men had kissed each other, she was leaning towards the latter. But did that change who Leilani was – had Renee been so awful that by association, the artist was also tainted?

    Luckily, Zarina didn’t know Renee and wasn’t sure if she would care if she did. Though one thing that stuck out to Zarina was that Lani said he’s going to know… who is he? Swallowing hard, Zarina looked around them and decided to file it away for later, figuring she had enough of her secrets exposed in front of everyone for the night. She was trying to help calm her tears, not drive her to them.

    With a grateful glance towards Miriam’s last sentence, despite its slight harshness, she kept her hand on Lani’s back, still rubbing small circles. “Ricky and Miriam are right – nobody hates you… We don’t care if you fell in love with Renee, it’s okay – you’re okay.” Zarina took a chance and, though she felt awkward at first, wrapped her arms around Leilani in a comforting hug, wishing she could somehow absorb her sadness. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

    The artist looked to Miriam as soon as she recognized her voice, surprise overcoming her that she actually followed her along with Connie, Ricky and Zari. Eyes glassy with tears, her attention was drawn to Miriam as she spoke, doing her best to grab onto the gothic counselor’s words before her anxiety further choked her out.

    “You don’t need to isolate yourself,”

    Those were the words Leilani wanted to hang on to the most. Her shame was overwhelming, washing over her, like a violent storm over the ocean, causing the towering waves to crash on each other. Of course I have to isolate myself. How do I face anyone after this? The artist felt the thought creep up in the back of her throat, as if it wanted to force its way onto her lips, but the longer she looked into Miriam’s eyes, the more grounded she felt. With tears still streaming down her face, Leilani felt her breathing begin to even out.

    And then there was Zarina, fully embracing her. It felt like the comforting warmth of the sun on the perfect summer afternoon had completely enveloped her. Lani couldn’t remember the last time she had ever felt such a soothing and comforting touch from anyone. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Miriam, but she felt herself relax and give up into Zarina’s arms, curling further into herself and the lifeguard’s arms.

    “I don’t know what to do,” Leilani finally sobbed out, the first words that weren’t trying to shove anyone away from her, the closest she had gotten to actually asking for help. If anything, it was the most honest thing she could’ve said in that moment. The thought continued to circle her mind, how was she going to face anyone after what she had just done? Admitting to being in love with the person everyone hated most? Leilani knew that she had just made herself the most hated person at Evergreen by association. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” her instincts almost had her saying that she wanted to go home, but she was certainly not wanting that. If anything, she wanted to go as far away from home as she possibly could.

    Maybe it’d be better if I was the next one to go missing …

    At some point, the green thumb had fallen into a useless silence when their crowd of three became five—welcomingly. Usually prepared with comforting words, she found herself at a loss for how to comfort Leilani more than with a gentle hand against the pink fairy’s exposed arm, especially when their opinions of Renee Evergreen differed tremendously now.

    Or always have.

    While Connie had rolled her eyes—openly—toward the blonde ice queen all of last year, her friendly counterpart was filled to the brim with romance for her the entire time, and the confusion in her couldn’t fathom how. It was one of the worst times for her throat to be constricted, truly. But nowhere did her stillness equate to a sense of disgust either.

    A weak, yet gentle squeeze against Leilani’s skin carried the message, I could never hate you; meek comparable to the verbal reassurance the others had to share. I don’t know what to do. “You don’t have to know what to do,” she started, voice low as she set her sights on Leilani’s crumpled figure, sagging against Zarina’s front. “Not tonight or tomorrow. But we’re gonna get through this together.”

    In love with Renee Evergreen. The weight that hung in the arts and crafts instructor’s revelation felt unreal, and yet, it wasn’t. Not to her, or in the way her voice continued to crack as if her heart had been split open just admitting it again. Connie couldn’t pretend to believe that Renee had a secret soft side that she never witnessed openly, even if Leilani did, but her word was genuine.

    “I know it feels like everyone’s looking at you differently now…but I’m not.” A beat passed as Connie took the time to acknowledge the two girls and Ricky. “I’m always gonna love you, Leilani—my best friend.” A weak laugh emphasized her feelings as she broke into a somber smile. It was all she could offer, a flat attempt at humor like the jock next to her had. It wasn’t the warmth of Zarina’s arms or the fierce sympathy that Miriam gave, but it was honest.

    “They got you.” Still wrapped around her arm, the boating instructor’s fingers gave another final squeeze goodbye before she stood to her full height again. “I’ll be close just in case, but I think you’re in better hands right now.” Please don’t think I hate you.

    With a quiet exhale, the brunette stepped back with obvious reluctance and turned toward the ascending staircase, to the free-for-all that—unknowingly—awaited her return.

    Ricky glanced at his ex-girlfriend as she spoke, looking back at Leilani to see her reaction. It was clear none of them hated her, but this feeling that clung to Leilani wasn’t appearing to go away so soon. After Connie took her leave, Ricky scanned the current group. He barely knew either of the newcomers, and he felt out of place in the new dynamic now that there were only four of them left. He felt as if he were intruding on some personal moment, on the way the girls here both looked at Leilani. He wasn’t sure why it felt different now, just that it did.

    He frowned, a bit uncomfortable but unwilling to ditch his best friend before he could be sure she was in capable hands. He would never turn his back on someone who needed help, not while he was unsure whether she still wanted or needed him there. He ended up parroting Connie’s sentiments. “Yeah, you’ve got us to help you out. No matter what.” He walked towards Leilani, similar to how Connie had, ruffling her hair a little like she was his sister and not just his friend. “Um, I’m gonna go make sure the others are doing okay, but if you need me, I’ll be nearby too. You’ve always got me in your corner, Lani.”

    And with that, he left the girls to their conversation.

    Zarina’s heart softened as Lani melted into her arms, glad that the torrent of tears had started to slow. With the acceptance of the hug, she gave the girl another comforting squeeze, trying to ignore the feeling of warmth that blossomed in her chest – or the flutter in her stomach. Even if now was the time, she wasn’t ready to face what those feelings meant.

    I don’t want to be here anymore. Zarina’s heart hurt at that, wondering what Lani meant by here… if it was in the woods, at the camp, or… here at all. She hoped it wasn’t the last – Zarina certainly didn’t want that, and Lani’s other friends were flooding them now with concern. You don’t have to know what to do.

    Zarina nodded in agreement – sometimes, it was okay to take it minute by minute to get through. Still tracing comforting circles between her shoulder blades, she offered Connie an awkward, thankful smile for speaking up – feeling like an intruder, unsure if her presence was a hindrance. Tangled in a mess that didn’t belong to her.

    I think you’re in better hands right now. I’m gonna go make sure the others are doing okay.

    Zarina’s eyes widened as they both drifted away, leaving her and Miriam with the trembling girl in her arms. She wasn’t equipped to take care of this – not on her own, dealing with the fallout of something she didn’t fully understand. Don’t go. She swallowed and leaned back just enough to see Lani’s face, eyes rimmed red and all of her makeup cried off save for the glitter that occasionally caught the dwindling light from the Sunspot, making her twinkle like a star.

    “Connie’s right, you know,” she said, looking into the artist’s eyes. “You don’t have to know what you’re going to do tomorrow.” She hesitated, brushing a wet strand from Lani’s face. “We can just try to get through tonight, if you want. Maybe figure it out in the morning, after some sleep?” She nodded encouragingly, then glanced towards Miriam, searching her face for what she was thinking, some kind of plan or wise words she felt the goth had under her hardened surface.

    Miriam swallowed, unsure how she felt about being left with a crying Leilani. She never knew how to deal with upset people; crying always made her feel awkward, unsure what she could contribute that would in any way make the situation better. She wasn’t good at comforting people, usually offering some brand of tough love as the closest she really let herself get to truly being emotional about things. But she couldn’t leave yet. Not with Zarina looking at her for help and Leilani still so visibly upset. She also had to give Leilani the photo. She deserved that reminder of her paramour, even if Renee seemed like an objectively awful person considering all of the things she’d heard about the woman recently. And observing the chaos she left in her wake, of course.

    “Yeah, trying to get through tonight is probably the best option,” she agreed after a moment, pursing her lips as she thought. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, trying to figure out what to say. Should she move closer to comfort Leilani? She felt weird standing away from the duo now that the three of them were alone, but she wasn’t really the type to wrap her arms around people she didn’t even know well yet. She was mostly the type to reluctantly tolerate physical affection, not give it. She compromised, moving a little closer but not even trying to get in on the comforting action. “We’ll all be thinking more clearly once we’ve slept and are sober, in broad daylight.” Well, she wasn’t really sure if the others were drinkers at all, but she knew she certainly would fare better without any alcohol in her system. She blinked, thinking a moment before adding, “I found a photo of you with Renee earlier, outside the cabin. Do you want it?”

    As much focus as the artist had been putting on everyone else’s words, everything froze and shattered away as soon as she heard her name. Hearing Miriam mention Renee’s name sent a chill through her body, goosebumps raising on her arms as if ice slithered down her back. Fighting every urge in her body, she slowly turned towards Miriam’s figure, Leilani’s eyes trailed up to meet hers.

    Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, resulting in Leilani slowly nodding as she positioned herself to receive the picture from Miriam. The guilt and shame overcame her, but the longing feeling for her love remained stronger than any other feeling she could experience.

    Miriam took in Leilani’s expression, hesitating for the briefest moment before reaching into the pocket of her skirt (bless whoever invented pockets in skirts) and handed the arts and crafts counselor the polaroid she’d found earlier. Guess there was no need to interrogate her about it after the truth was already revealed, and despite her sometimes aggressive tendencies, there was no reason to antagonize Leilani further tonight. Not after everything that had just happened. She actually felt a surge of empathy, remembering her first relationship in high school and how badly it had ended. Were Leilani and Renee as codependent as she had been?

    Well, perhaps codependent wasn’t the right word, since as cold as it was to think, Renee seemed like she hadn’t needed Leilani the way the woman had needed her. But that didn’t sit right with Miriam. If anything, wouldn’t it make more sense to be the other way around? She supposed she didn’t know enough about the situation to truly have that sort of input, so she just wordlessly handed over the photo, telling herself it was just the alcohol when she got a small thrill as their hands brushed.

    Meeting her halfway, Leilani stood to meet Miriam’s hand, moving fully out of Zarina’s embrace. Blinking away the last of her tears, she held the polaroid up to her face, attempting to catch any last bit of light from the fire up at the Sunspot to better illuminate the picture.

    A slight, incredibly pathetic smile made a brief appearance on her lips as her eyes took in Renee’s smiling figure. We were so little in this picture, her thumb ran over the wearing polaroid. The picture captured one of the first happy memories the artist shared with Renee, dating back to when they were both campers. A beach towel wrapped around them, both grinning at the camera as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

    As far as Leilani remembered, it was most likely one of the first times the two were in such close proximity without going at each other’s throats; she remembered feeling happy to just enjoy the day at Fairview Lake, even if she did have to share a towel with Renee Evergreen.

    Her pathetic, broken smile soon faded as the cold reality of the night slapped her in the face. No longer was she basking in the sun, snuggled into the almost-too-small-for-two towel with the girl she fell in love with, being the epitome of “a happy camper”. Now she was just broken, a fraud, a liar, standing in the middle of the mess she made. With possibly the only two people who cared about her. It’s only because they didn’t know Renee. She’s just misunderstood.

    “My knees hurt,” a sharp, hot feeling radiating from her knees finally drew words from her lips, her head dipping down to take in the state of her knees;

    CW: mentions of blood, minor injury
    Tripping over the last step truly did a number on her knees, both having scrapes from where she fell onto the ground. There was definitely some dirt mixed into the blood slowly oozing from the wounds; Lani reached down to pluck a pebble out of the tender spot. They need to be cleaned. I’m too tired for this.

    The broken fairy turned to fully face both Miriam and Zarina. “You can go back, I’m going to the cabin.”

    Miriam glanced at Zarina, not completely sure about the swimming counselor, but her mind was made up. Nic was a big boy, he could handle the last few truth or dares by himself. She was certain that he’d update her tomorrow, anyway, and she could listen like she usually did. She liked their dynamic; in any scenario, she was on the more quiet side, so she liked listening.

    As it was, she couldn’t abandon this girl. Not with the tears in her eyes and the blood on her knees. Miriam had once heard that people became the person they needed most in their lowest times, and back in high school she had certainly needed someone to be there for her through everything, despite her own bad decisions. She had meted out enough judgment in her lifetime; maybe it was time to start meting out empathy instead.

    “I’ll go with you–and don’t say no–you need someone to clean that wound,” she insisted. She didn’t know the most about first aid, but she did know enough. And in this state, she wasn’t sure Leilani would give herself the proper care and grace she deserved. Well, she had never been soft or sweet, but she would help in her own stubborn way. “Besides, it’s dark out and we’re in the woods. There’s strength in numbers, or whatever.”

    Zarina watched the exchange between Miriam and Leilani from her place from the ground, hesitating for a moment before standing next to the art counselor, hazarding a peek over her shoulder at the photo clutched in her hands. In it, Lani smiled at the camera beside a blonde girl she could only assume was Renee. They looked so young… The tender way that Lani held the photo tugged at her heartstrings – no matter what the others thought about Renee, it was clear that Lani had seen something in her.

    In the quiet moment Leilani took with the photo, Zarina sent a grateful look around her at Miriam – she didn’t know how the nature counselor had it, but it seemed to help bring the artist back enough to dry her tears. That’s all they could have asked for, and it was at least a step in the right direction.

    My knees hurt. Finally glancing down at them, Zarina was shocked by their state – they were scraped worse than she’d thought when glancing at them from the ground. We have to clean that immediately. Still staring at her knees as the artist faced them fully, Zarina’s brows furrowed at Lani’s attempt to dismiss them.

    Though Zarina didn’t owe Leilani anything, hardly even knew her, she couldn’t imagine leaving the woman alone to deal with her wounds on her own – even if the wounds hadn’t been physical, she would have felt just as called to stay with her. Plus, she wasn’t sure how she felt about returning back to the Sunspot – whatever dare was going on now, the tense, loud voices that carried their way to them weren’t promising.

    “Yeah, I’ll come, too!” she nodded at Miriam’s insistence on cleaning the artist’s wounds. She took a step towards Lani, offering her hand to take as they walked back to the cabins. Then, to try and lighten the mood, she said, “You’re in good hands – I am first aid certified in two countries now, you know.”

    More tears welled in Leilani’s eyes as the care from the two counselors settled into her heart. Feeling Zari’s hand wrap around her own seemed to force a partition through the dark and tumultuous thoughts swimming through her mind. Just enough of a partition for the artist to know better than to try and usher either of them away.

    “Okay,” her voice was finally softer than before, Miriam and Zarina’s presence truly calming her nerves down. With her free hand, Leilani tucked the polaroid of her and Renee into the pocket of her skirt. A cold shiver ran down her arms as she realized how not-warm her costume was.

    Without any word, Lani reached for Miriam’s hand in the other, no longer caring what it looked like to any onlookers. She loved Ricky and Connie, but there was something about both Miriam and Zarina staying behind to make sure she was still safe and okay. No matter how small, they gave her a sense of community that she hadn’t felt since leaving Hawaii. She wanted to hold on to that for as long as she could, even if it was just for the rest of the night.

    Hand in hand with Miriam and Zarina, Leilani slowly started walking towards the cabin. Every now and then, her gait would result in a hobble or a limp due to her scraped up knees. They were tender, a prickling stinging sensation interrupting her every step; but at least she had her friends at her sides to help support her as they trekked back to the cabins.

    interactions: connie levine minajesty minajesty , leilani iona sunshineysoul sunshineysoul , ricky sanford & miriam berry hotsauce hotsauce , zarina korrapati irregular-neptune irregular-neptune


 
    • .
    code by opaline
    eva twine
    the camp director
    Eva's day started the same as usual with one glaring difference.

    Shiloh would be, once more, exisiting in the same vicinity as her. Despite her best efforts, that is.


    "Short-sighted," she mutters at the ground of Hallow's Trail. Her stride down the path grew more determined with each step, intending on settling once and for all where she stood—with both of them—now that there was nowhere to run away to, not where she couldn't easily follow and ensure her stance was heard. If Shiloh insisted on being at this camp, a camp where nothing decent happened anymore, then so be it. Eva, naturally, was just as stubborn. A trait neither could deny.

    At such an early hour, Eva didn't expect to see any counsellors milling about—especially not Leon MacMillan—a rather stark difference in responsibility she could compare to that of Renee, always punctual and alert. Reluctant, yes. Disgusted, most assuredly. And expectant, palm out for the Supervisors' list and a glint sparkling within her eyes. At the time, Eva wondered whether she feigned indifference to her counsellor job—that Jonathan might've highly suggested the position to appease—and woke up early enough to grow familiar to then delegate. Now, the Twine assumed another reason altogether.
    She was looking for something, her pace quickens as the Lodge stands tall at the end of the path, a way out.

    Her heart squeezes painfully. It was easy to be convinced of the idea Renee found her reason in the end, dragging her weary sister along with her. Eva hoped the journey was worth it for the oldest Evergreen, but she'd be damned watching either of her children follow the path of Paige. The blind leading the blind. She raised them better and smarter than that.

    She didn't like to resent Jonathan Evergreen, but as she pushed into her office in the Lodge and rounding her desk to stubbornly yank open the drawer—a habit bordering on OCD tendencies, as of late—to see the carved wooden... stick? Instrument? She wasn't sure. All she felt was sick to her stomach as the image of Loss floods her vision. Why did he not listen? Why didn't they?

    Uncomfortable by the reminder, even as she routinely chooses to do it to herself, Eva slams the drawer into place. "Still there. Still here." In the desk. In her mind. In the blood on the camp's hands.

    Eva smacks her lips, leaving her office to return to where Leon waited—and the same as yesterday, her motherly instincts cave in to frustration. "Have you seen him?" There wasn't a need to elaborate on who him was meant to be, it was clear. As all things were if the people around her weren't too stubborn to see and accept it.

    As expected, Leon nods in a solemn-like gesture as he takes the clipboard from her weak grasp. "We're sharing a cabin."

    "You must be thrilled."


    Surprised by the monotone sound of her voice, unlike the norm, he simply swallows in response and drifts his gaze to the list of his daily duties. There was a time where Leon had been furious with her as she refused to entertain his endless questions of Where's Shiloh? Why won't he respond to us? Only to be met with silence or a scowl, admonishing the audacity to pry—and in her most vulnerable moments, Eva felt guilty for prioritising her own hurt feelings over that of the campers—the friends—he'd willingly cast aside in favour of a vendetta.

    "He's attending the Sleepaway Camp. Tell Hugo he ought to go, as well."

    There's a split second where the supervisor's mouth opens as if to protest, only for his expression to fall once it meets her own; a no-nonsense glare staring back. "Understood."
 
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  • ramona.





































    • mood



      stressed & hungover
















    Hearing her name called among the list of counselors chosen for the sleepaway had felt like a death sentence to Ramona, her stomach dropping as her head swiveled toward Lou; judging by his expression, he sensed it, too, that sinking suspicion that she’d just assumed the role of a lamb being led to slaughter.

    It was enough for the brunette to drag through her packing process, allowing time to tug down the rolled-up sleeves of her sweatshirt—an ill-fitting, obnoxiously bright, tie-dyed monstrosity whose necessity at camp couldn’t be recalled in her current state, though with the lack of other alternatives brought with her and the unseasonably cold weather, she was glad it was there—and to press the heels of her hands snugly onto her eye sockets at each sharp, throbbing pain that cut through her concentration, as if someone was inside hammering nails into her skull. She’d managed to stuff a spare set of clothes into the bag before flopping back onto the mattress in defeat, sunglasses toppling from where they’d rested on her head. Truthfully, Mona wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath the sheets, face buried into the pillow as she fell asleep to the sound of Lou’s breathing beside her as he sat reading or writing. It wouldn’t have been the first time an impromptu sleepover had unfolded in such a fashion—one of them drifting off and the other not having the heart to wake them, too closely positioned on a surface unsuited for two, yet neither of them dared to acknowledge the intimacy of it.

    “Maybe, it won’t be so bad,” Ramona tried, head swiveling towards Lou from its spot, nestled into the bunched blanket, though even as the words tumbled out, they held the bitterness of a weak lie. On any other occasion, she wouldn’t have bothered to hide her discontentment, but she’d felt Lou watching every move since stepping foot inside the cabin—an unspoken question in his eyes of whether or not it’d be his last opportunity to do so, and she didn’t want to linger on how much truth that sentiment may have held. “I can talk to Hugo about what we’ve figured out so far—see if he knows anything else.”

    Would’ve rather had us talk to Hugo before you all hiked miles out without an easy way to get back. Through clenched teeth, Lou muttered, “..Right.” His gaze tracked her every movement, as if each simple shift could unravel the knot of discontent twisting in his chest. He had wanted to voice the weight of his reluctance to her leave, but he knew it’d only make things harder than they already were.

    Before parting ways the night prior, the pair had exhausted every possible outcome of a conversation with the groundskeeper, mulling over each sliver of information they’d managed to glean in the hopes of discovering something they’d overlooked the first time. It was of little use, however, other than to commit the few known facts to memory—they couldn’t conjure answers from thin air, and a new perspective might offer clarity.

    Mona doubted that possibility in part—Lou lived in those woods, too, and he was just as surprised by the wolf’s abnormal stature and odd behavior as everybody else.

    Reluctantly, the farmer heaved a sigh as she pushed herself upright to peek over the edge of the bed, poking the rubber toe of her sneaker through her backpack’s strap and lifting it off the floor. “You can run the farm while I’m gone, right?” The dark-haired woman plucked her bag from around her raised foot and plopped it onto her stomach to rifle through its contents as she leaned back again. “I don’t know if Billie’s ready for that much responsibility yet.” I trust you more.

    “Sure, yeah.” He nodded, voice falling flat. Lou leaned rigidly against the bunk steps, hands jammed into his pockets with his head lowered slightly. He avoided looking at her now, finally having accepted the fact she really was leaving. And without him, Leon putting the nail in the coffin on that idea. Scarcely was there a point in mentioning how his impromptu plans faltered. Mona had enough to think about without his added concerns.

    Thankfully, Ramona realized, most of what she needed for the night was in her bag already—an old pair of gardening shears, stolen unintentionally from the camp’s stock a couple of years back that she’d yet to remember to return, which was fortunate in light of her newly-added task of preparing dinner for the sleepaway group; a cigarette lighter, kept on hand for the sake of her friends, though it’d proven to be useful in other circumstances as well; a half-empty water bottle; sunscreen; and the wadded-up shirt and shorts she’d shoved inside a moment ago. She felt like she was forgetting something, but she couldn’t place her finger onto what.

    I’ll remember when I’m knee-deep in mud and swatting at—

    “Bug spray.”


    Latching onto the bedpost, the brunette pulled herself off her mattress with a groan, eyes squinting momentarily as she willed away the spots dancing erratically in her vision before making the short trek to the bathroom, hand lifting to rest on her forehead at an angle as a means of shielding her gaze from the light seeping through the building’s back window.

    This is going to be a long day.

    “We’ll be fine.”
    Mona wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Lou of that fact or herself. Either way, it was a weak effort—Hugo’s typical lack of direct involvement with the sleepaway trip was no secret, so for him to be thrown into the fray didn’t bode well for anyone on camp grounds, especially not those going along with him for the night. At times such as these, the farmer wished that she could be more naïve for the sake of her own sanity, that she could buy into the idea that the groundskeeper’s added presence was nothing more than a precaution rather than a first line of defense for the inevitable.

    She bent at the waist, stuffing the can of insect repellent into her pack and zipping it shut, then stood to her full height once more to study Lou’s face thoughtfully—wistfully. “In case something does happen, though,” the farmer began, lips pursing as she stretched toward the top of her mattress, sliding her well-worn journal from its spot on the bottom side of her pillowcase. She’d stowed it there the prior evening, moments before her tired eyes succumbed to sleep after jotting down a bulleted list of their findings. It was a messy scrawl, done with only the aid of a flashlight to guide her pen’s way, but it was legible enough to come in handy for someone that knew its contents as well as Lou did. “Take this, and turn to the last page. It’ll be harder for Jonathan to argue against solid evidence, even if it’s something small.”

    Still, pessimistic outlook aside, the woman hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

    When she’d returned to the room, Lou lifted his head and decided to smoothe over the unease building over him—if only for the sake of the time that was slowly dwindling. He accepted the journal, nodding slow in agreement, “Be safe,” he offered. She’s smart. She’d figure it out.

    “And nothing’s gonna happen.”

    “Well…” Ramona allowed her voice to trail off as she shouldered her backpack at last—it was likely a simple trick of her imagination, but it seemed to weigh more heavily than usual, thanks to the highly probable impending doom now metaphorically shackled to it. I wouldn’t be so sure. “I guess that’s everything, then.”

    Except, it wasn’t really. So much remained to be said—feelings and thoughts that were too complex to put into words on such short notice, sentiments lying just beyond reach within her brain’s muddled fog, so Mona didn’t bother. She didn’t want to think of the exchange as a goodbye, anyway—there was no immediate need to tie up loose ends. As much as she itched to reach out, to seal their separation with a hug, as was customary for such things, the gesture would have surely invited an unnecessary gravity to the situation. Instead, the brunette settled on a playful nudge, punctuated by, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

    Ramona was among the first to arrive at the trailhead. Immediately, her eyes searched for Alton in the hopes that he would have something to alleviate her pain—at this point, she would have accepted marijuana, but she’d settle for whatever drugstore remedy he had in his kit. Instead of a shock of white-blond hair, however, the farmer spotted Leon, standing a sizable distance from Hugo and positioned along the path in such a way that ignoring him was a rude impossibility, but considering how things had been left between them at Truth or Dare’s conclusions, Mona was tempted to do so regardless.

    Exhaling in resignation, the dark-haired woman’s feet stopped of their own accord, one hand lifting to fiddle with the rolled cuff of her hoodie’s sleeve as she peered at Leon from behind the tinted lenses of her sunglasses. “So, um—” she started, then lowered her voice, “—there’s really no getting out of this?”

    Ramona thought back to Elodie’s outburst upon hearing the news at breakfast—a well-warranted reaction, though one the farmer didn’t quite have the energy for. Bargaining was more her style—talking her way out of problems—though she knew that she was only wasting her breath. Jonathan Evergreen would rather pick up whatever bloody mess was left of them once the wolves grew bored of tearing them apart than send home refunds for a canceled extracurricular activity.

































    the killing moon



    echo & the bunnymen










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 
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    • .
    code by opaline
    Clarisse Lowell
    ❛ the best friend ❜
    cw: depressive thoughts, self-harm

    Sleep hadn't come easily to Clarisse ever since the disappearance; now, it felt more like a luxury she couldn't grasp. Every time her eyes closed, it sent her right back to the Sunspot and the frozen fear she found herself in. Her mind churned with the possibilities— of what if it hadn't been Bee in the beast's maw but rather another counselor? Each time the wolf bit down, Clarisse jolted away and stifled any sort of scream so as not to disturb her cabinmates. She'd lie there, looking at the top bunk where Riley was, listening to the peaceful sleep of the others in the vain hope that it could lull her into a sense of safety.

    It doesn't, of course.

    After the tenth time of fighting her mind and body, she carefully got off her bed and quickly changed her clothes. Taking a peek at the clock, she couldn't help but sigh as she exited the cabin. The early rays of the morning sun barely lit up the camp but she still went to their usual meet up spot. Would he even come? She wouldn't blame him if he decided to skip the day, the revelations of yesterday took a toll on them all. Even the night's sleep, however few it was, hadn't tempered her venomous doubt on Alton. It was for the best if she avoided him for the foreseeable future. Then, Leilani and— God Paige, what were you thinking?

    After a few minutes of waiting and getting progressively deeper into her thoughts, she stood up and ran. For the first time in a long while, she was running alone through the trail of Camp Evergreen, the warning bells of paranoia blurring and numbing. At least when Clarisse was focused on keeping one foot in front of the other and letting herself fall into the rhythm of running, she couldn't afford to think too deeply into anything. Not to mention, her already tired brain lagged even more as the physical exhaustion caught up with her far too early into the run. Even still, she continued running because then she couldn't think and when she couldn't think, then it would be fine. She just needed to keep going and then, maybe then, she could find some form of rest.

    Her foot caught on something and her hand shot forward, scraping along the dirt. Clarisse grunted as she picked herself up from the ground, sitting on the balls of her feet as she looked down at her hand. Red. Red. Red. Automatically, numbly, she looked at her other hand then raised her jogging pants legs for any sign of injury. Nothing more than scratches, nothing worse than the open, bleeding wound on her hand. She let out a breath as she stood up, injured hand curling into a ball as she returned to the cabin. She couldn't be bothered to keep silent as she rummaged through her things for the first-aid kit Liberty had given her before grabbing the bandage, some clothes, and heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

    Going to breakfast was a challenge in and of itself but she sluggishly made her way to the Lodge anyway. Far be it for her to cause worry. She half-listened to the orientation in between the bites she made on the bread and butter combo she grabbed. Sleepaway was still going to happen with Hugo's supervision and Clarisse had to bite down a remark about the stupidity of it, just like going to Truth or Dare the last night. Instead, Clarisse nursed the coffee mug and raised it towards Elodie in agreement.


 
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code by opaline
mack griffin
❛ the stoner ❜
The gentle creak of the bed, irregular chirp of birds, bats and bugs - once, it had felt like escape and home all rolled into one, even with the restless nights. This night came with similar sensations, but now it was something bittersweet that seemed to tighten her throat; she wanted to go and scream at it all to be silent.

There was an irony in the fact that her back was calm, but her mind wasn't. Maybe a lesson in that, but she decided not.

Instead morning came, the sun's pale dawn rays slicing into the floating dust of the cabin, yet the warmth that should follow never did. Mack remained huddled in the covers for as long as she could, dragging out only when duty called. Some of the children came to ask her a million questions, her spectacle of an arrival still a standout from the day before. Considering it was not even twelve hours ago, it wasn't a surprise, yet Mack had felt the counsellor's late night had greedily swallowed their mental capacity. She had barely been an active participant—by choice—and moments still swirled around in her head. Must be awful for someone who let themselves wholly unravel, or worse, dwell in the memories.

The buffet that she typically looked forward to, with its spread of yoghurts, granola and bright foods nestled alongside baked goods drew nothing from Mack, with a slight stomach ache and lack of appetite having her reach only for a slice of toast, albeit generously layered with butter and an apple. It was no substitute for what she craved though, which was burning a hole in her pocket.

She sat in silence, biting her tongue whenever someone said something stupid or annoying. Which was most of what came from everyone's mouths; useless complaints, grating tones, too-loud whispers. Mack swore she might have had a vein pop from trying to not explode over little things that she realistically knew were not as serious as they felt. Others approached with requests, since she had been their dealer before, and Mack just shrugged them off with whatever made them leave her alone—"I'll look into it", or "Later". Some were insistent, but backed down when she all but lashed out, irritation flashing in her eyes bright enough to be a warning.

Then came the announcements. Mack let a half-laugh half-scoff slip at the announcement that sleepaway was still occurring, mostly from disbelief. And she thought she was the one with a devil-may-care attitude to life — was Hugo's presence truthfully reassuring to... literally anyone? And Leon, who had stressed that he'd report the wolf in the morning had elected to not even inform the wider camper base. I suppose he's a great pick to help lead Camp Evergreen, since keeping secrets seems to be the election criteria around here, now.

"Glad to see you're catching on!" Mack gestured at Elodie with an apple slice in hand, whose name she had only learnt by her involvement in Truth or Dare. She liked how she spoke her mind, though her patience had unfortunately worn thin, mumbling as she sat her cutlery on her plate—having only had a few bites but indicating she was done anyway—"Maybe finish chewing before making a point, next time, though."
 

  • code by opaline
    ricky sanford
    the jock

    For someone who was normally so punctual about being awake bright and early, today was not Ricky's day. He had only been at camp for three days now, if one included today, and already he had messed up his usual routine of waking up at an ungodly early hour twice. The first night of camp, stress had taken its toll on his sleep schedule, and now, the alcohol from last night was exacting its revenge on his body. It certainly felt like revenge, at least. Since he had never been a huge drinker, it was no surprise that he was unused to hangovers, having only experienced them a few times before in his twenty-four years of life. So when he awoke nearly late for breakast with his head pounding, he tried his best to ignore it and go about his day.

    After a brief shower and several splashes of water on his face, he felt less like a zombie and more like an actual functional human being again. His stomach growled, reminding him that he should probably put something in there that wasn't mostly tequila. He groaned, staring his reflection down in the mirror and tying up part of his hair for a half-up half-down look. At least it got the runaway strands out of his face, which was really the only thing his hair was long enough to do anyway. He sighed, trying to hype himself up for the day ahead.

    "C'mon man, you got this," he told his reflection, shadow boxing in the mirror. "You're gonna make some kid's day today, and you're spend time with your friends and put the events of last night behind you. It's fine. Everything is going to be fine." Though he wasn't entirely sure he believed the statement, that was okay. He nodded at his reflection, a small smile slipping through. Even though last night had been a complete disaster, he still had his amazing friends. And he would not let any of his friends suffer alone. As he stared in the mirror, it dawned on him that one of his friends had been completely abandoned this morning--well, assuming she had woken up on time for their usual morning run. "Ah man, Clarisse!"

    He felt a sinking feeling of guilt in his stomach which he tried to shove aside. I'll head to breakfast, and then I can apologize. I'm sure it's not that big of a deal. Now a real smile did slip onto his face as he thought about how nice it would be to run with her this morning. I'm sure our morning run will be eventful after everything that happened last night. We could both probably use a debrief.

    And with that, he headed to get breakfast, slipping in and slinking towards the coffee, grabbing a mug before scanning the room for his best friend and heading her direction. He slid into the seat next to her, giving her one of his trademark grins. "Morning!" he chirped, trying to inject his usual positivity into the statement and mostly succeeding. Though he looked slightly more zombie-like than usual, courtesy of the hangover, he was more or less back to normal after a quick shower and brushing his teeth. He took a long sip of coffee, which was of course much sweeter than any normal person would want. He couldn't help his raging sweet tooth. "Sorry I wasn't there this morning. I forgot to set my alarm, and was kinda dead to the world until like fifteen minutes ago."

 
MOOD: Anxious, prepared

OUTFIT: big bulky jacket, tee-shirt, pants and boots

LOCATION: Orca Cabin
basics
MENTIONS: Alton, Annie, Leon, Levi, Marcey


INT: Marcey

tags
TL;DRAfter taking an ice cold shower to fully wake up for the day, Shiloh tucks some extra protection onto him and leaves a letter addressed to Levi and Leon amongst Levi's things before heading to breakfast with Marcey.
tl;dr
Shiloh
honesty's a losing game

Getting some fresh air seemed to be the right thing to do to finally wake up. After the countless events at the Sunspot followed by a mostly sleepless night, Shiloh was struggling to keep his eyes open as he showered that morning. The confusion, the shock, the fear that weighed on him from just his first day back was more than he could’ve ever predicted. I know things were going to be darker this time around… but damn…

But he needed to be alert, “with it” so to speak, he was to act as camp security after all. How would he do that effectively if he was letting childish things like a heated game of Truth or Dare throw him off his balance? The four foot wolf that encountered them just mere hours ago wasn’t as childish, but if anything that should put him more on his game; he may be a Crime Scene investigator, but he was still a trained police officer before anything else. Shiloh remembered the extensive and grueling hours, not just to get into physical shape, but for his mentality to be just as sharp.

“It all starts up here,”

The deep and grovely voice rang out in his head as clear as day, the voice of his instructor throughout the police academy; Coronel Davis never let Shiloh or any of his fellow officers forget that everything was mental. It all started in their heads; their perception and assessment of a situation, their reactions to actions. It all started in their heads. Shiloh was the cream of the crop once he made it out the other side of the academy, throwing his entire self into becoming a detective it was fairly easy for him. No other life outside of his career, Shiloh’s mind was as sharp as they came.

But at a little after seven in the morning, the young detective was struggling to fully wake up. He peered over to his sister’s bunk, relief flooding him that she was still there and asleep, and he was met with similar feelings as he recounted Leon, Levi and all his other bunk-mates still in their place. Except for Alton, the sheet-ghost. Wonder why he was up so early? The thought quickly left him as Shiloh’s eyelids closed again, sleep quickly finding him for a few moments before he jolted back awake. He knew he had to get up and get ready for the day.

Yet, even after his ice cold shower, Shiloh still felt like he was dragging behind, still fighting tooth and nail to keep his eyes open and alert; to fully be present in his body while his mind drifted back to the warmth in his bunk that still lingered from his previously sleeping body. Half dressed and leaning over the sink, Shiloh looked up at the mirror, and wholly looked at his reflection.

A small, simple practice, but Shiloh hadn’t looked at himself in quite some time. If anyone dared to ask the brooding security guard, he wouldn’t have an answer; not one to give in front of everyone. But if you donned a similar pair of deep brown eyes, or even a contrasting and familiar pair of sky blue eyes, and asked him in the privacy of a conversation, he’d admit that he’s ashamed of himself. That despite all that he had accomplished up to that point with his education, it all equated to nothing the moment he realized Lili took his son from him. Shiloh never knew there could be such a gaping hole in his heart from something or someone he had never met. And Shiloh had no idea it was even happening. He was too in love with his girlfriend and the baby she was carrying, he was too deep into day-dreaming about family holidays and “Leo Marshall”’s fifth birthday party. Shiloh was in too deep to do anything to stop her from leaving.

Or maybe Shiloh would admit that he can’t look at himself for too long without imagining what his son’s face looks like. Was he the perfect mix of both his parents like Shiloh himself was? Or did he turn out to be the spitting image of his mother, Lili, like how Marcey was Eva’s spitting image?

Or worse? Did Leo end up being the spitting image of Shiloh?

SPLASH!

The freezing cold water from the cabin pipes ripped him up and out of his spiral. Shiloh needed to clear his head. If he was going to be any kind of productive at his job, then he needed to get it together. “There’s no use in moping around about a kid I never had,” he mumbled to himself, head already having dipped back to stare into the sink.

After fully dressing and stepping out of the creaky cabin bathroom, his eyes naturally found Marcey’s. “I need some air, gonna step outside,” He flashed a quick smile to his sister and stepped out of the cabin door before she could insist he wear a jacket with his hair still so damp.

As the door closed behind him, he was met with yet another vision of his past. Yet this one was much more recent, happening just a few hours ago. The conversation he had with Annie as he insisted on walking with her from Sunspot to the cabins; after the disturbingly large wolf killed their chicken and ran back off into the night;

“Annie, hang on!” Of course he had to chase after her. A four foot wolf just walked right next to her and then back into the woods in the dead of night. She must have been crazy if she thought Shiloh was going to let her wander back to the cabins on her own.

“What am I supposed to do? Stand around here, waiting for it to come back for seconds? I don’t think so.”

“Well, no, but you don’t have to go alone.”

“I’m not alone anymore, now that camp security’s here to do his job.” The answer may have caught him off guard, but it didn’t slow his feet as he determinedly caught up to her. His hand reached for hers and didn’t hesitate to grab it, forcing her to at least stop and hear him.

“Do you really think I followed you on account of my job?

“I don’t know why you do anything.”

Shiloh took in a deep breath, stopping himself from acting on instinct and saying something snarky. Now wasn’t the time or the place. “We just saw a fucking five foot tall wolf fearlessly walk up to our loud and noisy group and kill our chicken before sprinting back into the woods. And then you ran off, alone into camp,” He stopped himself mid sentence, having heard how his voice was becoming more stern and sharp as he recalled the shocking end of the night. The agent bit his tongue in the form of balling up his free hand before quickly relaxing it again. This isn’t what he wanted to say. “I just wanted to make sure you made it back to your cabin safe, Annalise, is that a crime?” Shiloh’s voice softened, eyes looking into hers and begging to be thrown a bone.


Leaning on the wooden railing outside of the cabin door, Shiloh looked at his hand. It was steadier now that he had gotten some kind of sleep, Annie not failing to make a joke as he attempted to keep his hand from trembling; it seemed his hand still shook in fear even though he was holding hers. His eyes lifted up, looking at the edge of the forest, darring something to make itself known; a deer, a bear, a wolf.

“Fuck this,” he muttered to himself as a spike of fear returned to him. Swiftly pushing himself up and off of the railing, Shiloh made his way back into the cabin. It finally clicked why he didn’t feel as prepared and safe when the wolf made its appearance. I brought it, but I really didn’t think I’d need it so soon. He stooped down to where his belongings were, reaching to the bottom of his back before his hands found the cool metal.

Glancing around the cabin, Shiloh did his best to discreetly strap on his belt holster and tuck his handgun safely inside. The holster was made to be worn right above his usual belt, and hidden under his shirt, which is exactly what he did. After securing everything in place, and leaving behind the extra two clips he brought just in case, Shiloh reached for his jacket to throw onto his arms.

Shuffling his things back into his bag, trying to make sure his ammo stayed truly hidden, a certain brown and leather notebook slid out on top of his hands. Shiloh’s hands clammed up just at the sight of it. He knew what was in there, and he figured now was as good a time as any to do what he had been wanting to do for the past several years. Opening the cover of the journal revealed two envelopes, they were both a bit worn as if they had been kept around and moved from place to place for quite some time. Shiloh’s eyes drifted over the one labeled “Eva Twine” to the second one labeled “Levi and Leon”.

It had been years since he wrote it, it felt like he had truly lived an entire lifetime since writing that letter. Things were so different back then, he was so full of life, of joy, of hope for the future. But now, he had none of that. Now Shiloh was nothing but the shell of his former self, just trying to get by and do nothing but simply survive. But regardless of how Shiloh felt at present, the letter still weighed heavily on him. He knew he needed to give it to them sooner rather than later. And now that there was no tearful artist on Levi’s doorstep that forced Shiloh and Leon into the bathroom, it didn’t seem like an awful time.

Except for the fact that Leon was already up and at ‘em. Good ol camp supervisor. I never saw Renee as the supervisor, but something tells me Leon’s been doing a damn good job. A small smirk came to his lips as he imagined the three of them, all as fresh counselors and seeing what they could get away with, how it should’ve been. But Shiloh quickly shook off those feelings as he rose to his feet. That never happened. And it was all because of him. The guilt immediately found him again, no matter how hard he had been fighting it off.

Shiloh turned to where Levi’s things were. If anything he could leave the letter with Levi for when he woke up, and when Shiloh and Leon were getting ready to leave for sleepaway, he could let Leon read it. Either way, they’ll both read it at some point. He did his best to think that into existence as he delicately placed the letter on Levi’s things before returning to tuck away the rest of his own belongings.

Once everything was put away, and he had ensured his badge was in his pocket, Shiloh turned to his sister, “Ready for breakfast?”

~~

Walking alongside his sister towards Wildflower pass, Shiloh can’t help but place a hand on her shoulder, bringing them to walk side by side. She was scared, she was scared for him even before the five foot tall wolf interrupted the scene last night. He couldn’t blame her one iota, because he was just as scared leaving his sister at camp; knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his eye on her that night caused his hands to become clammy.

“If there is any kind of scene to behold, that’s literally what I’m trained for. Don’t forget I went through Police Academy; I’m trained for all kinds of shit.” He did his best to encourage his sister, to reassure her that he and the survivalist group would be okay. “And it’s not solely up to me,” his tone began to take a sour turn, “I heard Hugo is supposed to be coming. Who do you think that’s courtesy of?” The detective’s deep brown eyes rolled to the top of his head before glancing down at his sister next to him.


code by valen t.
 



((Note: Thoughts will be crimson and italicized while speech will be crimson and bolded.))

1747501594968.png

The Entertainer

Thomas
Mode
Thomas had always believed himself to be a lone wolf. In many ways, his life had more or less forced him to be one. But there were very few situations where he was truly alone. Today, unfortunately, was one of those days.

He opened his eyes to loneliness, isolation and guilt circling over his head like vultures that had taken bets on whether or not he would open his eyes; whether or not he would keep trying. Any other day, he would have shooed them away with some snarky comment, but he just didn’t have it in him today.

He couldn’t trust Leon anymore; Levi might as well have fed whatever friendship they had to the wolf from last night; his secret with Renee was out to whoever believed Levi’s words and, perhaps worst of all, he’d have to tuck all that away so as not to ruin camp for the kids during drama. He was at rock bottom’s basement and he wasn’t even allowed to feel it.

Yeah, the vultures could stay. They’d just come back if he tried to chase them away. That was the kind of day today was.

He didn’t bother eating whatever was served for breakfast; the chances that he’d be able to keep it down were slim to none anyway. If anything, it would just mix with the bitter taste that was already in his mouth that refused to go away no matter how long he’d brushed his teeth that morning.

For the sake of whatever relationship he and Leon had remaining, he chose to tune Leon out during orientation - from what he knew of The Figurehead, he’d talk as though last night hadn’t happened at all and Thomas was unlikely to take that well. As a matter of fact, Thomas was unlikely to take anything that came from Leon’s mouth well for the next couple days.

As the counselors filed out of the Dining Hall, Thomas remained firmly seated lest he contact any more of their collective...whatever last night was. He had chosen a quiet corner of the dining hall to sit and nurse a cool cup of water, ignoring any counselors that looked or spoke in his direction as if they simply didn’t exist.

That was the solution he’d managed to come up with, at least. The only way he could be who the students needed was if he convinced himself that the remaining counselors didn’t exist and he simply focused on the campers. That was the plan, at least. How well it worked out was yet to be seen.


When it felt like all the counselors had left the dining hall, he finally allowed himself look up from his cup, casting his gaze around the dining hall, distraught to see Connie of all people still sitting there. He rolled his eyes and went back to his water. Of course this camp wouldn’t even let him be alone in peace. It’s fine. She’ll leave eventually. Just ignore her until then.

Mentions: Connie ( minajesty minajesty )

 
    • .
    code by opaline
    Alton Chambers
    ❛ the suspect ❜
    One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

    Alt’s eyes shot open the moment that the sun touched them. Even on the bottom bunk, the sun was inevitable. He glanced around him in the mostly quiet room, the only sound being the heavy breathing of the cabin’s inhabitants around him. He slid out of his bed, quickly made it, and put on his pants, shirt, and socks for the day. He tied the laces of his boots and threw them over his shoulder. He then walked quietly out.

    The trick was landing evenly on the front pad of your foot and letting your heel follow after. You didn’t let it touch the ground, but instead, even out your weight to make you quieter. The idea is that you so evenly distributed your weight that you didn’t clomp clomp clomp out. How did he know to do this? It hadn’t been from sneaking out when he was a teenager. He’d learned it fairly early in life because it was easier not to make noise than to be caught by his parents and lectured about every minuscule failing he’d ever had in his life. Alt’s parents weren’t bad people; they just expected certain things from him, and he couldn’t always deliver. So, sometimes, he would sneak around the house to avoid them. He’d recently refreshed those skills in the past few months, having been homebound with his injuries.

    Alt slowly closed the door behind him, took a few steps down from the cabin, and slid in his boots on the comfy, noiseless grass. The camp shivered, but it hadn’t fully pulled itself out of the drowsiness from last night. Alt had run off right when things were finished to clean himself up in the Med Bay before sneaking into bed. He’d awoken when each person had drunkenly clopped in, but the two Xanax he had taken did their job in making him fall back asleep. There, he had horrible dreams, and in that split second when he’d awoken, he’d thought that it was all just dreams.

    As he walked slowly to the trail, planning on hiding out on a resting spot by its edge, his hands started to shake, and everything returned to him. His lips quivered, and his eyes burned. That pale face of his turned a deep red as a desperate sob wanted to leave his mouth. Yet, he was able to suck it in and keep it buried down until he was in the woods. There, he sat down on a raised stone and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. A violent, desperate sound left his mouth as he started weeping hysterically. If you asked him what he was crying about, he couldn’t tell you. Everything seemed like a good answer.

    He wanted to blame Liberty, but he couldn’t. She didn’t press him for the answers he gave her, though he felt she would have if given more time and liquor. No, he let it go freely. Because why not? Sooner or later, they’d come out, and they weren’t even his worst secrets. His worst secret was that he was in love with someone who seemed to be slowly distancing himself from him. Almost as if being here at the Evergreen Camp reminded Jonathan that being in love with someone half his age—the age of his missing daughters—was a bad idea. Alt had tried so hard to put on airs, but it was hard. It shouldn’t have been. His father wanted Alt to be an adult at eleven. His mindset had always been geared towards the seriousness in life. And with that came all the anxieties that he shouldn’t have to think about at his age. And one of them was building up right now. This whole scenario he’d crafted in his head about Jonathan. He reminded himself not to put words or actions into people that weren’t real. Yet, he couldn’t help but replay Jonathan maneuvering Alt away yesterday. It lived in his mind and cycled in his dreams.

    Was he so unloveable that he wasn’t allowed a single iota of grace? His first boyfriend had called him a slur in front of all his friends, stating that he had never cared for Alt and that the—well, Alt didn’t want to think about the word—had made up stories of sleeping with him. Then there was that guy in college who would shove Alt out the window every time his girlfriend would knock on the door. Alt had gotten very good at climbing down the sides of houses. Or his neighbor, who was about his age, whom he’d seen between camp and heading back to school. Who kissed Alt in front of his religious parents. And who went missing the following week—sent off to the military. This was life, he supposed. Hard and unrelenting, like a knife carving away at an apple. He just had to endure. And endure he would.

    It took a while, but the tears inevitably dried up, and he wiped his face on the long sleeves of his jacket. He took deep, quavering breaths and sniffled in the coldness of the morning. When he felt he didn’t look like raw ground meat, he fished out his eyeliner and hair gel. Alt couldn’t let them know that he was phased by what happened. He applied it without a mirror in the middle of the woods. He’d done it enough times that he figured he didn’t look too crazy.

    After that, it still wasn’t too far into the morning, and the camp had barely started to stir. Smells were coming from the Dining Area, but Alt couldn’t make out anything else. So, he pulled his book out of his jacket pocket and started reading again.

    No-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor’s flesh, so it remained there as a visible reminder of his injury. He had suffered it there for more than a month, and his condition seemed serious enough to remind even his father that Gregor, despite his current sad and revolting form, was a family member who could not be treated as an enemy. On the contrary, as a family there was a duty to swallow any revulsion for him and to be patient, just to be patient.

    Alton ducked in for breakfast, making eye contact with no one and trying to grab some food and leave. Of course, Leon started his announcement at the day’s activity. These things usually didn’t involve him. Alt's job was to ensure the kids didn’t get sepsis from landing on weird branches. When he announced that Alt would be heading out to Sleepaway camp, the blonde bore such a look into Leon’s face that it could have lit it on fire. Why couldn’t it have been Marquis? Or Liberty? Get her out of their hair for a day. Nope. Him. Before the rest were dismissed, Alt shot off to the Medbay to grab supplies. He wanted to miss anyone and everyone. He was thankful that Marquis was always ready for everything and had prepped a bag containing survival medical supplies. However, Alt tossed a big bottle of ibuprofen, some Pepto, some seltzer, and a handful of water in. He didn’t want the counselors puking on their way there.

    Well… he didn’t want some of the counselors puking. Some, he’d just let them suffer.

    Alt then grabbed a few things from his stash under the bed: clothes, toiletries, some toilet paper from the bathroom—for himself—and the ghost glasses from last night. He slid them on, hoping to use them to avoid all eye contact. Alt then trudged to the Wildflower Trail, saying nothing. There was Leon, Mona, Oliver, Marcey… and… Shiloh. Alt twisted a bit in his shoes at seeing him, his pale face turning red for the second time that day, though it was more a blooming blush than anything. He looked up at the last figure—a little surprised to see Hugo there. The hell?

    all text in this color is from Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis"

 
Last edited:
MOOD: What do i even believe anymore

OUTFIT: top right picture![/URL]

LOCATION: cabin -> lodge -> dining hall -> lodge
basics
MENTIONS: uhh lots of people


INT: Bodie

tags
TL;DRLeilani's coming to terms with the truths laid out from Sunspot, asked Bodie to cover for her for color war set up before retreating to hide out in the arts and crafts room all day.
tl;dr
leilani
better run for the hills, run for the hills, run


The rest of Leilani’s night had been grey. After making a complete fool of herself in front of everyone, outing herself for being in love with a woman, she felt like she was living in the space before her death. That moment when the world slows down, her breath weighs heavy on her lungs like a cement brick, and the color begins fading around the edges. As Leilani re-entered the cabin alongside Miriam and Zarina, it felt more dull than before. A stolen glimpse of the makeup Miriam removed from her face, her costume laid out on the bathroom counter as she changed, the drawing she tacked above the door, the random painted rocks she placed on the windowsills, even the bright blue and intense black of her friends costumes; everything seemed duller. Nothing was as bright as she remembered just hours before. The artist had lost her spark.

Coming off as close to mute, Leilani didn’t talk much to Miriam and Zarina for the rest of the night, but she didn’t fight them away as they decided to stay seated on her bunk as she fell asleep. Somewhere between the quiet whispers between the two and feeling Zari’s hands stroking her hair, she finally drifted off to sleep.

~~

The next morning Leilani jolted awake at her normal time, like clockwork. She glanced around the cabin, the earliest peaks of dusk barely illuminated the space. Turning over in her bunk, there was the cold realization that she was alone, seeing that Miriam had gone back to her own cabin, and Zarina had gone back to her bunk. Lani began sitting up, trying to be as quiet as possible, taking in how everyone else was still asleep in their bunks (or sprawled out on the floor, like Joey was) so she still had the chance to sneak out and not be seen.

Closing herself into the bathroom with minimal creaks and groans from the wood, Leilani glanced at her watch to check the time. Holding it up to catch the beginnings of light, as the backlight in her digital watch had died several months before, she read the time, “5:12 AM”. Skipping a shower, she went through the rest of her routine, which ended in the lazy attempt to fix her hair into a low and messy bun. There was no energy left in her to attempt to make herself presentable that morning, so she couldn’t even be bothered to clip back the loose bangs that fell into her face. She had every intention of hiding out from society that day, having no interaction with any of her peers unless absolutely necessary. Nobody’s going to want to talk to me anyways. After having the night to sleep on it, they’ll all realize how messed up I am.

Not only did Leilani feel a hole opening inside of her at the reality that she had wholly outed herself in front of her peers, there was another nagging point of order that she just couldn’t shake. The amount of other secret relationships with Renee that had made themselves known that night. She didn’t want to believe them as they shot out like wild sparks around the fire, and she certainly didn’t want to believe them after the fact. I thought Renee loves me… I thought those were rumors, her and Levi was a rumor just to punish me for being friends with Ricky, wasn’t it?

The artist had a way of seeing the world through rose colored glasses, that somehow became even more tinted when Renee was in view. She was Leilani’s first love, at least that’s what Leilani swore up and down was their relationship. Lani knew there was a side of Renee who was a bully, he had been on that receiving side of her more than once; and many times it was a public spectacle. But was that not the intrigue between the two? Being polar opposites? Dancing the line of passion between love and hate? Renee is just misunderstood. Nobody has seen her behind closed doors like I have. Her head was filled with countless nights of her and Renee holed up in the lodge, hours past curfew, Renee showing Leilani a side that Leilani always assumed nobody else had seen. There was conversation, laughing, there was love.

But then another set of emotions came crashing into her, washing away all remnants of her previous feelings for Renee. The feelings that began bubbling up inside her right before Renee and Paige went missing. Flashes of Renee treating others a little too intimately right where Leilani could see them; a certain ex-red head came to mind and caused the artist to quickly, yet quietly, run out of her cabin.

Even though she ran, the memories, the feelings chased her. They were thick, latching onto her wherever they could and refusing to let go. Leilani remembered feeling used, feeling that Renee was just using her as a plaything, manipulating her to get whatever she wanted out of Leilani; Because Lani was more eager than ever to be at Renee’s beck and call. She knows that.

The cool wind seemed like a biting ice storm as Leilani ran towards the lodge. The quiet was slowly melting out of the air as her feet pounding on the forest ground. Even though her feet carried her away from her cabin, they couldn’t carry her away from the realization that was creeping in on her. Renee was severely disliked, by so many around her, but Leilani always assumed she was just misunderstood. But the dirty feelings enveloped her; the more she remembered how she saw Renee act with Juliette, the more dots were connected. Everyone who hinted at being in a relationship with Renee, even the stupid bottle Liberty had pulled out, “warmer than whiskey” Lani didn’t even understand the bottle’s implications at that time.

Slamming the arts & crafts door closed behind her, Leilani made quick work of closing all the blinds; shutting out any ounce of light that began to stream through the treeline. She needed to sit in the darkness for as long as she could.

Has she really been cheating on me? Her hands failed to cooperate as she moved frantically, her mind racing to make sense of everything that happened last night, all the revelations that were thrown into the open air for everyone to draw their own conclusions. Why am I shaking so much?

Standing in the middle of the dark arts room, Leilani stood frozen; except for her quaking hands. Her eyes darted around the arts room, as if she was chasing the ghost of Renee and the time they spent in that very room; maybe if she caught it she’d get some answers.

But the realization that she had arrived at didn’t require any further questions, there were no answers to give.

At the end of the 2001 session, Leilani had more than picked up on Renee’s flirtatious nature with countless others. Something that had bothered her for years, but Renee had always kissed her way out of trouble with Leilani. But that year was different, the rumors about the artist had gotten worse and worse, leading to herself having to essentially tell a few campers to mind their own business. The truth had been blocked out of her mind for several sessions, however it was only a matter of time before Leilani realized the true origins of the “slut Leilani” rumor. “It was her,”

The artist had done a fantastic job at keeping it together until that realization hit. Renee had been the one to start that rumor, hadn’t she? Leilani had always assumed it, that she created rumors to further humiliate her, to further put her in her place. Until that moment, Leilani always thought it was the rumors of being in relationships with other people; Renee knowing it was Leilani who wanted to keep their relationship a secret, she also knew that Leilani wouldn’t be able to dispute any rumors of being with someone else.

Yet Renee was spreading rumors of who Leilani had been with. Does that mean all the relationship rumors weren’t rumors? Thomas? Juliette? JC? Was she with all of them while she was with me? I thought she loved me? Why would she call me a slut? And encourage others to do the same? What did she tell Clarisse and Bodie?

The tenderness of Lani’s scraped knees were nothing in comparison to the suffocating truth as she fell to her knees in the middle of the room. Her sobs ripped through her faster than she could catch her breath, she felt dirty, used, cast to the side and too stupid to be picked back up again.

With the shocking news of Renee and Paige having gone missing, Leilani had packed all of these suspicions away, letting them melt away as concern and fear for where the sisters had gone fully overcame her. But now, there was no hiding those feelings away. She was forced to face the truth, and she was still doing everything in her power to turn her back to it.

What would Ricky think? And Connie, Clarrise? And Miriam and Zarina? She already knew that Levi couldn’t stand to look at her, that much was made obvious from the previous night. If her friends knew she was actively trying to ignore the reality laid out in front of her? Oh God, do they know that Renee started the rumors about me? They think I’m an idiot don’t they? Leilani clutched her arms around her body, a desperate attempt to get a hug out of somebody, even if it was just herself. Anything to try and calm the hysterics that Renee brought up on her.

The lodge always served as her refuge, her peace in the chaos of excited campers and drama-filled counselors. For years, it also served as the only place she got to spend time with the “real” Renee. But now, as the artist sat in a crumpled and crying mess on the floor, Leilani had no idea how she’d ever find comfort in this room again.

~~

Leilani had a bit of a pause at the door of the dining hall. By the grace of whatever higher power there was, she had found a gap of counselors and campers as she made her way from the lodge to breakfast. She knew she would put on a smile if she had to, but after spending the majority of her morning crying, she didn’t know how convincing that smile would be.

I can’t believe I forgot about color war set up today… Her expressionless face bore holes into the entrance doors, still building up the courage to fully face everyone after the scene she caused at Sunspot. After a few more moments of finding her courage, she pulled the door open and stepped in.

The reality was that maybe a few people looked up and noticed Leilani walking into the dining hall. But in her mind, every head had turned and eyes locked in on her. In her mind, everyone began whispering the very rumors that had been eating at her all morning; hell, they might have been whispering about her sudden outburst. I need to talk to Bodie and leave, immediately.

Again, thanking whatever higher power there was, Leilani quickly spotted her fellow arts & crafts leader standing against the wall, eating whatever he had for breakfast. Lani was just grateful she wouldn’t have to pull him away from a table; she was already embarrassed enough, and she hadn’t even allowed herself to remember she was about to speak with Renee’s best friend. Did he know? About the other relationships? About the rumors she spread?

She shook off her thoughts as her feet scurried to Bodie’s side. “Hey Bodie,” she mustered up a pathetic attempt of a smile, trying to keep some pleasantries among her peers, “I know that we have set up for color war tonight, but I was going to come beg you to cover for me? I don’t think I’m going to be there.”

Knee-deep in thought and nursing, probably the saddest breakfast burrito this side of the Oregan, Bodie stifled a yelp as Lani slunk her way up to him. He was not surprised that she wanted to stay out of sight and thus out of mind, but he was surprised to see the usual ray of sunshine looking like a gremlin under house arrest.”Hey Lani,” he said under his breath as if he were in a spy movie. Yet, when she requested that he cover for her, he locked eyes with the arts and crafts counselor. ”You sure that’s a good idea?

Her deep brown eyes were uncharacteristically dull and jumpy, somehow trying to keep an eye on everyone else in the dining hall while talking to Bodie. “Nothing I do seems to be good anymore,” a slip of her filter allowed a thought out through her lips, but caring about keeping a happy persona was very low on her list of priorities at that moment as she fully turned to look at him, “I’m not sure, but I just can’t face everyone after last night. I could barely come in here. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask.”

[color=]Nothing I do seems to be good anymore,[/color] she said like it was just something that people voiced with ease–like “hello” or “how are you.” Immediately, Bodie’s jokey tone ceased, and his brows furrowed over his large puppy dog eyes. ”Fine,” he replied. ”Do you want me to tell them that you’re sick from last night? Mauled by a bear? Mauled by three bears?” He paused, tapping his chin with his free hand. ”Maybe we can say Hugo looked at you too hard?”

“Whatever works,” Leilani shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m sure Leon will come yell at me. Or he’ll send Eva. But I’d rather that than feel everyone’s eyes on me.” She shifted to lean her back against the wall next to Bodie, crossing her arms against her chest as if that would hide her further from any stray and prying eyes.

Not even the mildest of jokes could get her out of her funk. Bodie didn’t hold any preconceived notions about Lani. He’d actually missed her entire interrogation last night. Harper had caught him up afterward. ”Lani, you didn’t do anything wrong. Love is not a sin. Renee knew that more than we all did. She loved a lot of people–yes. But she loved them with all her heart. She never half-assed anything.” He crumpled up the foil around the rest of the saddest breakfast burrito alive and set it to the side. His hands gently reached into his pockets as if trying to find something. ”And she never ever said anything bad about you to me.”

The mention of Renee, which normally brought on a secret warmth in her chest, now sent ice through her veins. There were too many revelations, too many unanswered questions, there was simply too much that Leilani hadn’t sorted out in her own head. “Thanks.” her voice coming off more clipped and stern than she intended, “But I don’t want to talk about that right now,” she tried to ease past the Love is not a sin comment without breaking down all over again. If only everyone believed that sentiment. Or just my father would be great. “So you’ll cover for me?”

”Yeah yeah,” Bodie said, fishing out what he had been looking for in his pockets. It was a nut bar, specifically almonds and cranberries. He was allergic to a lot of food around here, and most of the time, he couldn’t trust people to consider that when they cooked. So, he always had a backup. Bodie was not going to starve. Yet, in that moment, he was fine with sliding it over to Lani. ”Here.” He glanced around as he nudged it towards her. ”Now git before anyone sees you.”

Without arguing, Leilani took the bar from Bodie’s hand before giving a small bow of her head, “Thanks Bodie. I owe you one.” she said before making her way to the nearest door to leave back to the lodge.

The artist kept her head ducked low, keeping her eyes on the ground beneath her feet, as she made the trek from the dining hall back to the lodge. Blinds still drawn, there was still the full light of day that beat up against the outsides of the windows. It gave the arts and crafts room a soft light, but still kept any eyes out of her business.

Looking at the nut bar that Bodie gave her, more conflicting feelings washed over her as she mulled over the words he said to her, And she never ever said anything bad about you to me.

She wasn’t expecting anger to be the first emotion to make itself known, but there it was. “So I guess I should take it as Renee’s love when she perpetuated the rumor that I sleep around, huh?” Her own tone surprised her, being full of hate and venom. No, you don’t know the truth, you have to hear it from Renee when she’s found.

The emotions that swirled in her head were far too much, she thought she knew the truth but the more she sat and ruminated on everything that was said the previous night, she knew she was lost. She didn’t know what to think. Everything had been building and building and building,

“Fuck!” Leilani threw the gifted nut bar to whatever direction her arm found as she let out a cathartic yell. The wrapped snack was harmless enough to not do any damage, but a part of her wished something other than her in the arts and craft room would be broken.




code by valen t.
 
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bonnie oshiro
// the social butterfly
T
he Chinook cabin was quiet-peaceful, almost. The type of calm one should be appreciative of after the whirlwind of a night they all endured. It should have been a welcomed comfort.

But it wasn’t.

At first, Bonnie felt herself slowly stirring awake, turning over and pulling her blanket over her head with a mumbled request for, “Five more minutes...” However, as time passed and she began to fully awaken, she started to feel that she had been resting too long. The kind of rest that felt suspiciously....restful. The kind that always seemed to sneak up on you when there were things you know you needed to do but couldn't be bothered to drag yourself out of your bed. Lifting a hand, she quickly tore off her sleeping mask, pulling it away from her head and tossing it to the side of her bed where she'd likely spend a ridiculous amount of time searching for it later. She squinted her eyes as she blinked up at the ceiling—once, then twice, questioning her surroundings.

It was too quiet. Too peaceful. Too late.

Shit—shoot,” she corrected herself out loud as she sat up, kicking the covers off her body in one frantic motion as if her urgency could rewind the morning to a time when she wouldn’t have to rush to get ready. Her pajama pants caught on the edge of the bed frame, nearly causing her to trip as she descended the stairs. She quickly covered her mouth to stifle any giggles, just in case anyone else was still asleep. Graceful as ever.

Getting dressed in record time, Bonnie glanced at the clock as she exited the bathroom. Relief washed over her as she tied the last ribbon around her braided pigtails—she wasn’t as late as she had initially thought. Feeling a surge of determination to make the most of the day ahead, she hurried towards the dining hall, only stopping to wave at any straggling campers who took an interest in her.

As she entered the hall, the smell of breakfast filled the air. Leon's daily announcement barely registered with Bonnie as she focused on loading her plate with food, the desire for a full stomach overshadowing anything the figurehead had to say at that moment. She felt sympathy for those assigned to the Sleepaway, but she also felt relieved that she wasn't one of the people required to participate. It was pretty crazy, Bonnie thought, agreeing with Elodie's exclamation after last night's encounter with the wolf. She glanced away from her plate and looked at Leon, her expression reflecting one of confusion.

Bonnie wasn't the type to usually question the camp's methods, but the idea of sleeping in the woods did not seem appealing compared to the safety of a cabin. With a wolf having gotten so close to them, the thought of spending the night outside was more frightening than exciting. Why would they want to risk anyone's safety chancing another encounter with an animal like that?

Uncertain on whether anyone could answer her questions, Bonnie found herself moving toward the city native, curious to discover what temperament her teaching partner would display after she had openly expressed her dislike for the day's activities. "Hi!" Bonnie said with a smile, sitting down and resting her head on her hand before she could be refused a spot at the table. "You're Elodie, right?" She relied on her memory of hearing the woman's name called during the game the previous night, which might not have been the best approach, but Bonnie was typically someone who spoke first and worried about potential mishaps later. "I'm Bonnie, we haven't met yet but I'm going to be teaching music with you!"

  • energy.

    mood.
    excited
    mindset
mind
set.
sett
ing.
men
tions.
no faker. //
mxmtoon.
 










LOU V.R.















role/card

the runaway. wheel of fortune ▼.






location

cabin 3 → off trail










mentions


leon lostbird lostbird . mona lvcid lvcid .






mood

resigned. sad. anxious. a little
too introspective.









Lou leaned against the rough-hewn grooves on the outside of his cabin, bleakly toking away on the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

—‘Nothing’s gonna happen.’ But if it does, it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it.

In his head, he softly repeated his last words to Mona a couple times like a prayer—not to manipulate a belief, but to carve some sense into him. To make it clear he had to find a way to quit fighting uncertainty.
Acceptance for things out of his control was a never ending battle. Only in the last year would the unease towards it come to a slow, though reluctant give. The spiral of overthinking was a seduction he’d never been good at resisting. Lou knew the last thing he wanted was to fall back into old habits. It’ll be okay. Yeah, it’ll be fine.

There was something unnerving about it, still. It’d seemed much too easy watching her go. Had he really done enough to convince Leon to take him along with the group? Or worse, the realization that there was no desperate push to coax her into staying. The rational part of Lou would remind him that at the core of it all, it was just sleepaway—nothing more than a long-standing tradition. Mona was no stranger to these woods. All the times they'd camped in each other's presence, she'd always held her own. And Nic would be around, of course. Them looking after each other was expected especially after last night. If something did happen, there was strength in numbers. I guess. Lou put out the stub and walked back inside.

Moose was empty now. The blinds hung untouched, casting only bars of light across the dim floor. It was a silence that Lou felt a sort of dreary comfort in, having spent most of his days back in town under a similar atmosphere.

Lou sank into his bed, turning the leather-bound notebook over in his hands a few times. He slid the band free to graze his thumb against the smoothness. Mona always kept this with her. He couldn’t have imagined her parting with it for anyone, for any reason. Except, now.

This sense of ‘just incase’ that lingered between them before she left clung to his brain the most. Mona had always been the more practical one, her ideas always aiding him in organizing his own. Logically, the sentiment was correct. But were they not jumping the gun with all this talk? Either way, he disliked being in possession of something so personal—it felt like her surrender.

He flipped it open, letting pages slip through his fingers without direction—words only making sense in fragments. 'Team banquet at 6'.… 'I can’t believe she said'….. 'Just trying to do my best'…. 'I really wish that things were'… He closed the book with a soft snap.

I shouldn’t be reading this.

After a moment’s hesitation, he slid the journal under the mattress. Tucking it carefully between the boards before returning to his position on the bed, his head hung low in his hands. Lou needed to trick himself into forgetting about it. Not entirely, but just enough so his mind couldn’t wander into dangerous territory. He figured time away from the campgrounds might do him good. It helped a lot yesterday.

Packing his things quickly, Lou shoved some items into a small knapsack and filled his tin water bottle from the outdoor faucet. He took the long way around camp, trying to avoid running into anyone. When the trail split, he veered some yards off trail and into the brush.





























♪ all i think about now - pixies ♪

///






♡coded by uxie♡

 

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