The following story is fictional, any resemblance to events or persons is unintentional.
© 2001 by Rei McCall, All rights reserved.

 

One Summer in Heaven or Hell             by: Rei McCall

 

PART FOUR: MY DINNER WITH CABIN FOUR

Darren was staring at me. Of course, Angus was staring at me. And Brian was occasionally glancing at me. And most of the guys did their best to conceal repeated curious glances at me from around the table. The deer head on the wall was studying me. Hell, I think even the red beans and rice on my tray might’ve even been checking me out at least once. But Darren was staring. It was that sort of ‘I know I’ve seen you before, and as soon as I remember when, I’ll beat you senseless’ stare that always made me a little nervous… very nervous, actually. I was actually thankful that Vin was sitting right next to me and still feeling guilty enough to not take his eyes off me.

I poked a little at my dinner, trying to convince it to blink again. I had decided to forgo the baked chicken and just had the rice and beans. My stomach didn’t feel up to digesting flesh just yet. Not that I felt any better about the mixed vegetables they’d dropped into one of the little squares on my tray; That same peas-carrots-corn-lima beans combination that was the staple of every cafeteria in the free world. Somehow it figured that the only four vegetables I didn’t like would inevitably be combined into one, omnipresent dish. I sighed as I glared at them; At least they were boiled, so it’s not like I was actually missing any nutritional value by not eating them.

Angus had been a fairly good leader through the past twenty. After emerging from the bathroom with me a half-step behind him trying to hide my face behind my hair, he proudly announced, "Damn! You do not wanna see this kid mad!" Right on cue, Vin groaned and limped out of the bathroom, grimacing. The geeks looked more than a little shocked, though everyone else didn’t seem that impressed. Brian was just grinning stupidly and shaking his head a little. I doubted more than two people bought the act those two had come up with, but at least no one was pointing and laughing now.

I hesitantly took a sporkful of red beans and rice and slipped it between my lips. It was warm, bland, and gooey. I chewed it twice (all it really needed), swallowed, and reached for my glass. The red liquid sloshed inside like syrup or unfinished jello, so I thought better of actually taking a drink and used a bite of my roll to do something about the sensation in my mouth.

I don’t know why, but it had honestly impressed me after we had all gotten our food and sat down that Angus ordered us not to touch anything yet. Then he asked if anyone needed to pray or say anything. Only Windsor, a heavier boy sitting across from me, actually admitted that he did, but when he bowed his head and folded his hands, Brian and Anthony (a tall, scrawny young man with a heavy New York accent) followed suit. Pitch, a boy who looked, well… he looked evil, closed his eyes and mumbled something about a goddess to himself. Even Angus bowed his head while the rest of us just sat there in a respectful silence while they finished. Darren and Carlton were the exceptions; They immediately started in on their meals. I did catch a glimpse of Angus glaring at the two of them afterwards.

I poked again at my main course. It didn’t really appeal to me, but after how many meals I’d missed today by virtue of ejecting them half an hour ago, I thought it best to eat as much of it as I could. I guess it wasn’t so bad, really, once you got used to the taste… and the texture. It kind of reminded me of the time I’d tried eating paste back in kindergarten. With a little salt and hot sauce, it was almost food. I even thoughtfully poked at the vegetables a few times before finally deciding that it wasn’t worth it. I downed my ‘bug juice’ (a name that makes over-sugared kool-aid sound even more appealing, huh?) in two gulps and then finished the last of my roll to try and sop up the residue of sugar in my mouth before it had a chance to mix with the air and the grease layer left by the main course and spontaneously combust.

Not a great meal, but I should be thankful I could still chew. I hadn’t thought I’d last quite this long when my parents had first dropped me off here.

And Darren was still staring at me. I almost felt sorry for the little hamster in his head; it must’ve been running double-time on it’s wheel. I did my best to ignore the attention; no sense in encouraging him.

As I continued to prod my mixed vegetables, vainly hoping to scare them away, a second brownie landed gently on top of my own. I looked to my right, the source of the intruding brownie, and craned my neck up. Vin just smiled at me, and it took me a moment to remember he had offered me his dessert for a week to make up for earlier. There had always been one or two people who were nice to me, or who would help look out for me at school, but never anybody this big and, well, terrifying. In fact, he looked like the kind who was usually first in line to dump me in a garbage can or dangle me off the second floor walkway until I started crying. It was confusing, to say the least.

I picked up my original brownie and handed it to him. "No hard feelings, right?" He reluctantly accepted it, and beamed down at me. With the formal swapping of desserts completed, I somehow felt better. Like I’d just signed a contract or peace treaty in blood. Judging from Vin’s expression, he probably felt fairly similar. At least he seemed nice, and I knew there was no chance in hell that anyone was intimidating HIM into being polite to me.

"You’re never going to grow if you give away your food," he joked.

"I don’t need to grow." 5’7" was tall enough for me

"Sure you don’t." His knowing smile made me nervous for a moment, but I realized he was just joking around and didn’t have any idea that parts of me actually were growing. And they needed food. I sighed in resignation as I picked up my newly-acquired brownie.

When a thick, warm, oozing ball of something smacked into the back of my head, the remnants of my appetite immediately took off. I reached my hand around and collected as much of the glob as possible to examine: A lump of overcooked rice and chicken grease. I wiped it on my tray, and then tried to clean as much as possible from my hair with my napkin. I could hear quiet snickering over my shoulder, as well as from a few of the guys at my table.

I wasn’t expecting Vin to shove his chair back five feet as he shot to a standing position and glared behind me. I turned around and saw two figures sitting at the table across from ours slouching down ‘inconspicuously’.

"Vin," Angus warned. His voice had lost that friendly quality it usually had. Vin just stared back like he was being chastised by his mother. "Sit down."

"But-"

"I’ll talk to Mark, don’t worry. You just sit down and ignore them."

He looked like he was going to protest. Either that, or storm across the cafeteria regardless. I tugged a little on his T-shirt, hoping he wouldn’t smack me as a first response. "You don’t need to get in trouble because of me. I needed to wash my hair tonight anyway."

He looked wounded. "Are you sure?" I just nodded softly. His only response was a grunt, which I took to mean an affirmative, since he pulled his chair back under himself and sat down.

I hoped that, after tonight, we’d be allowed to sit wherever we wanted for meals. In school, it had always been easier when I could just grab my food and then hide until it was time for class again. No one could glare at me or trip me or shove me or launch their leftovers at me if I was nowhere in sight. Consequently, nobody got in trouble for harassing me, and then I didn’t take even more shit for getting them in trouble. It ultimately worked out better for everyone.

And Darren was still staring at me. But now, it was an ‘I figured it out, and you’d better hope I don’t catch you alone tonight’ stare. I needed an excuse to get out of here… Bathroom.

I was just standing up to excuse myself when somebody called out my name. "Chris McCreed?" I spun around just in time to have someone behind me shatter my eardrums with a whistle; One of those nasty, high-pitched numbers that only elementary school teachers really knew how to do. I spun around again… Elementary school teachers and Angus, apparently, as he was pulling his fingers out of his mouth and looking beyond me. I turned (yet again) and say Mark walking towards me. I was getting dizzy.

"Ah, Chris." He handed me a slip of paper once he was within range. "You’ve got a few things ordered for you at the camp store. We passed most of these out at the lodge meeting before dinner, but you seemed to have missed it."

I blushed a little. "Yeah, I, uh… I kinda got lost."

"Happens a lot the first day or two. Don’t worry about it." He smiled and patted me on the back. I decided that there was entirely too much smiling happening at this camp. It was creepy. Too much of that smacking on the shoulder and the back thing, too. I was almost surprised they weren’t grunting.

Still, I now had a perfect excuse to leave. Mark pointed to the left of the cafeteria, to a door I hadn’t seen earlier, and I took off as fast as possible without looking too eager.

Through the door was a small room with a counter. Beyond the counter was one of the older camp personnel that had been introduced at the orientation earlier… Parson or Parkins or something like that. Beyond this incredibly-bored looking man were shelves neatly stacked with various goods: Notebooks, pencils, pens, various magazines, sodas, candy, Tylenol, camping guides, plant and animal identification books, cheap binoculars, freeze-dried food, compasses, and a myriad of other cheap camping supplies and portable teenage entertainment.

"A little eager for the first sugar rush?" The slightly balding man behind the counter asked me as I paused in front of him.

"Um, actually, I just got this at dinner." I passed him the claim check Mark had given me.

He pulled a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and held them in front of his face as he studied the note. "Just one second". He disappeared through a side door and I could hear the distinctive sounds of rummaging. He finally reemerged carrying a brown cardboard box, which he proceeded to place on the ledge in front of me.

It was sealed shut with packing tape and had an address written in sharpie in my mother’s handwriting:

To Christopher McCreed

c/o Camp Augwai

P.O. Box 4

Parkins, PA

Well, at the very least, it settled the question of which state I was in. The return address was my own, and the postmark was five days ago. I kind of irked me that they’d taken such careful steps to plan this out without a word of it to me.

"Your parents had that shipped here. I assume its your luggage. They also ordered four camp shirts for you, and a sweatshirt. What size do you take?"

"Um, Extra-Large, please." He blinked in surprise as I spoke. I actually wore a small or a medium for T-shirts, if I was going for an actual fit, but I kind of preferred to hide my body as much as possible, so baggier meant better.

"I’m not sure if we have any left. You did get here after everyone else." He stepped back into the storeroom. He quickly returned with a few folded shirts in his hand. "I’ve only got one Extra-Large, I’m afraid," he said as he dropped a bundle of blue clothe on top of my box. "And only two Larges, to boot." One was gray and the other was red. I hated red. "I’ve got plenty of mediums, though. Any color you want."

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pouting as I carried everything back towards cabin 4, but I wouldn’t feel that bad about lying if anyone asked. I’d finally ended up with an extra-large blue shirt, a large gray, and two mediums, one blue and one green, and a large, gray sweatshirt, all bearing the words ‘Camp Augwai’ on the back and the breast. I hated wearing medium T-shirts because, on my frame, they looked like girls’ shirts. I certainly didn’t mind that, but everyone else seemed to, and I either got harassed about it, or just roughed up. At least I hadn’t had to accept any smalls.

Thankfully, I’d been bright enough to rip the page with the map out of my handbook and keep it in my pocket, so I was lost for a much shorter period of time as I made my way ‘home’.

I heard the sound of well-fed guys in the distance as I got to the screen door and realized dinner must’ve let out. I hurried inside and put my new shirts in my drawer, then dug a pen out of my backpack to cut open my package.

Inside were more clothes. "Well, that explains why some of my clothes went missing last week." I started taking inventory: two pairs of cargo shorts, two pairs of gym shorts, my track pants, and… "SHIT!" My black sweatpants! I shook violently as I grabbed them out of the box and unfolded them. My small makeup bag landed with a ‘puff’ sound on my bed. I breathed a sigh of relief. My mother obviously hadn’t found it while she was packing for me. I’m just lucky I only had a compact, lipstick, eyeliner, and some eye-shadow, otherwise she would’ve noticed the extra bulk as soon as she grabbed the pants. I made a mental note to find a better hiding place when I got back.

The screen door wailed behind me as its spring stretched. No chance in hell I could explain a makeup bag to seven teenage boys! My self-preservation instinct overrode my raw panic-induced paralysis as I shoved the satin package into my backpack. I’d need to find a better hiding place soon, like tonight.

"Hey Chris." I recognized Brian’s voice.

"Hi," I squeaked. Shit! I focused for a second to remind myself to speak in a guy’s voice. "Um, did I miss anything?"

"Nope, we cleaned up just after you left."

"That reminds me, Chris," Angus broke in. "You didn’t bus your tray or help clean up, that’s two demerits."

"Huh?" The brain was still restarting after the shock. Twenty more seconds and whatever he said would probably catch up with me.

"Two demerits, for not following up on your responsibilities. You can either work them off or let them build up and take the punishment for it."

"Punishment?" Okay, everything was running again. "For forgetting to bus a tray?"

"You gotta learn responsibility for yourself, kid. That’s half of what this camp is all about. Mark went over it all at the lodge meeting earlier."

I wanted to argue, I really did. I was sick of taking shit all day, and my happy little defense mechanism was ready to explode in one massive, throat-crippling ball of sarcasm. I wanted to scream and rip my hair out and pound my head against the wall until it shattered.

But copping an attitude in this group would’ve gotten me injured very quickly. Brian had even told me that the counselors were willing to haul troublemakers out into the forest and work them over.

So I settled for falling back on my bed, burying my head under the pillow, and bellowing as hard as I could into the cheap cotton and foam. When I finally, stopped, my throat was raw and my pillow was wet, but I didn’t feel a hell of a lot better. I felt like crying, but that probably would’ve gotten me beaten up faster than getting bitchy would.

I finally sat back up and looked at Angus. He just shrugged. "Might want to leaf through your handbook tonight. It covers most of the basic camp rules."

I went back to emptying my box: two towels, two CD’s (that explains why I couldn’t find my ‘They Might be Giants’ CD Wednesday), mosquito repellant, calamine lotion, a bottle of aloe gel, and $20, half in rolled quarters and half in singles, along with a note that said ‘Don’t spend it all the first week. XO Mom’ I shoved everything into my suitcase and put the rest of my clothes into the drawers before finally remembering that I needed a shower. I kicked off my shoes and socks, threw my shampoo, conditioner, sponge, and bath gel onto my towel, and padded towards the bathroom.

I made sure to lock the stall door and check it twice more just to be sure. Finally satisfied, I pushed the shower door open and twisted the knob labeled ‘H’ all the way before undressing and hanging my clothes on the hook conveniently provided inside the door. A nice, hot, loooooong shower was exactly what my poor body needed right now after everything I’d been through. This and a good night’s sleep should give my brain the energy it needed to figure a way out of this mess. I think I’ll start with my hair; that always helps-

"AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!"

"Hehe," there was a chuckling outside the stall, followed by a brief knock. "Sorry about that, Chris. It’s kind of an Augwai tradition to not tell the campers that there’s no hot water in the showers and let the first one figure it out the hard way."

"You fucking sadistic bastard!" I huddled, shivering, in the corner of the shower, seated as far as I physically could from that evil, evil stream of liquid nitrogen that had quite nearly killed me.

"I know it’s not fun, but it keeps the showers short."

"Rot in Hell, you pontificating little weasel!"

"Watch the language, Chris, normally that’s one demerit."

I managed to keep my mouth shut and spare myself at least a little extra trouble. It didn’t stop me from growling until I heard the door to the bathroom open and someone leave. He was going to have to die, and quite horribly, at that! Maybe if I strapped him to the bed and added leeches, one-by-one, until he was sucked dry. Or I could run a current from a wall socket into his breakfast cereal. Or I could just jump him from behind and beat the fucker senseless! Yeah, that’ll work.

I stood up and carefully arched my spine backwards until just my hair was in the frigid spray of water. It was Cold. I added some shampoo and scrubbed, making sure to get out all the grease and rice from dinner, then rinsed. Finally I rubbed in the conditioner and left it while I wet my sponge and started lathering my body. My body almost started spasming when I finally jumped into the direct spray to wash the foam off myself and rinse the conditioner out of my hair.

This summer was going to be even less fun that I’d originally thought.

I shut off the water and jumped out to eagerly wrap myself up in a towel and remove the offending water droplets and icicles. I had worked my way all the way up and was frantically rubbing at my hair, both to dry it and warm it, when someone knocked on the stall door.

"Just a second."

He knocked again.

"How can anyone need an ice-cold shower that badly," I mumbled as I wrapped the towel myself and opened the door.

Darren was staring at me. I realized at the last minute that I’d wrapped the towel around my chest instead of my waist, like ‘real men’ were supposed to. Oops. I grabbed up my things as quickly as possible and tried to slip around him. "All yours," I said as nonchalantly as I could manage.

He just grabbed a hold of my towel and used it steer me up against one of the tile walls. "What do you think you were doing, hitting on my sister," he asked from three inches away.

Hitting on? I hadn’t hit on anyone since… Oh! Charlie. "I wasn’t hitting on her, we were just talking."

"Make sure that’s all that ever happens. I don’t want my sister dating a little faggot." Somehow that statement made no sense.

I tried to fight it, I really did, but that damn defense mechanism, along with my masochistic little mouth proved to be too strong for me. "So, did you want the shower, or have you lost interest in it now that I’m covered up?"

He just took a step back, whipping my towel off as he went. A few flicks of his wrist transformed it into a tight coil. I knew what was coming. The tip flicked out faster that I could see and cracked just an inch below one of my blossoming nipples. I clutched my throbbing breast and whined through my clenched teeth. My cheek felt a little hot as a tear dripped off it. My vision was completely white from behind my eyelids. It was painful on a scale I’d never imagined.

"Fucking sissy," he threw my towel back at me. "Crying like a girl. I can’t believe you thought my sister would be into guys like you." At least, I think that’s what he said. It was kind of difficult to pay attention.

He walked out and added, almost in disgust, "And you’re hung like a damn poodle." I could hear him unzipping his pants and begin his business at a urinal.

I looked down once my vision had cleared a bit. It didn’t look like a poodle. I guess it was supposed to be an insult, taking a pot shot at my masculinity or something. Obviously, it lacked a certain effectiveness.

I waited a little while, partially for him to leave and partially for the pain to die down. When I finally took my hand away there was a nasty red welt that looked like it might be there for a while. After a few long breaths, I put my clothes back on and made my way out to the sinks.

It took several handfuls of cold, iron-flavored water to wash away the bile taste that had started creeping up my throat. And then my reflection stared back at me. My eyes still looked wet. The rest of me… The rest of me looked like a boy. Just like always. God, I hate that reflection. My life already had enough shit; I didn’t need to stare at a male whenever I looked in the mirror.

Fucker…

…

Dumb mirror.

I hauled myself away and paced out towards the cabin proper. It was full of guys talking, and moving around, and unpacking. A sigh escaped before I even realized how depressed the sight was making me.

Pitch looked like the only one wearing the expression I was feeling inside; everyone else looked happy, or angry, or just looked scared. Pitch looked like he had just taken in too much and was just tired of dealing with things. He’d let his wavy, black hair out of the bun that he had on the top of his head and it hung a lot longer than I thought it could. His eyes were half-closed, and it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t really taking in anything he saw.

I guess I was just depressed and not thinking, otherwise I would’ve been smart enough to not sit next to a boy who looked like he had sprung forth, fully formed, from Lilith herself and say "You look how I feel." I never did claim to be intelligent.

No response.

"So, what’d you do?" It was in reference to why he was at Augwai, but I realized the next moment that there were far too many other ways to interpret it.

He growled at me, without even bothering to turn his head to look in my general direction. It wasn’t even a full-out growl, just that low throat rumble that dogs make when they’re getting annoyed. Obviously, the depressive little jerk didn’t have the common compassion to reach out to someone who was depressed and reaching out to him. Yet another person who would barely acknowledge my existence; things were starting to feel a little normal.

I got to my feet and made my way to my own little dank corner. It took me two tries to finally haul myself onto my bunk, but to be fair I was thoroughly worn out, and my oh-so-refreshing shower in a vertical mountain lake hadn’t really helped as much as I’d hoped. I rolled over and stared at the wooden wall.

"Hey, you alright," Vin asked. I was already getting used to his voice already; fairly impressive for me. I just nodded weakly without bothering to turn over.

"I know you’re a little upset. Everyone is when they’re away from home at first." Damn, he was right, I did feel a little homesick now. For some reason, the irony of me genuinely missing the house I almost killed myself in didn’t seem as funny as it should’ve. "Look, things will be okay. You’ll make some friends and have some fun, even if you think right now it’ll be hell." I couldn’t help but notice that people kept telling me that, but I had yet to feel any better about the situation. I tried to convey this message, but only managed a mildly dramatic sigh.

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder. That is to say, there was a hand on my shoulder, my back, and a great deal of my arm. Like I said before: BIG guy. "I’ll make sure your summer isn’t hell." I swear I could actual hear him smile behind me, and that scared me just a bit. "You have my word as a Spaniard."

Strange, he didn’t look… Oh. I had to smile a little as I rolled over to face him. He had a gentle expression on his face, like he was happy to see that I wasn’t hiding. "No good," I said quietly, "I’ve known too many Spaniards."

His gentle smile turned into a toothy grin. "You look tired." I just nodded. It had been a hell of a day. "Well, have a good night, Chris."

"Thanks… You, too." I rolled back over, but I wasn’t feeling quite as anti-social before. It took a little effort to position my blanket just right to filter out most of the clatter the guys were making, but eventually it was down below ‘rhinoceros charging’ level and my eyes drifted shut.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I decided that killing Angus by jumping him from behind would never work. I’d have to go with the electrified cereal plan.

I missed Carol.

…

Shit… Did I just say good night to the biggest guy in camp with my real voice?!

 

 

© 2001
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this story must contact the author for permission.