As the old car rattled and bumped, barreling relentlessly along the endless West Coast highway, Ray clung to his mechanical pencil so tightly that it started to cause a divot in the nerd bump on his left middle finger. The speakers blasted pointless background noise throughout the car, scenery blurring beyond the window, much as it had for the past few hours: a lush and imposing northern vibe giving way to the more arid, angular southern aesthetic. Ray paid it no mind, focused squarely on the drawing utensil and the epic drawing of Mr. Strawberry Man that he was using it to create, hardly reacting as his dad navigated a slight bend in the road that caused his narrow, twelve-year-old shoulders to lean against the car door.

He gave the changing geography the respect he felt it deserved, which was none at all. Acknowledging it, after all, would make it feel more real. For now, Mr. Strawberry Man was real: real epic, as Ray’s skill in the art of drawing in less-than-ideal conditions was being put to full use. He added the finishing touches with empty satisfaction until the brief spark of contentment was instantly stamped out by the sound of Bobby Darin crooning Beyond The Sea from the car speakers.

Somewhere beyond the sea ♪

“Daaad!” Ray groaned, slapping the sketchbook against his knees.

Somewhere waitin’ for me ♪

“Dad!” he repeated, slightly louder, and his mom turned around to look at him.

“Ray, we used to love this song,” she said. “Remember when you and your—”

“Change it,” he demanded, crossing his arms. He didn’t like being a grump, but his parents were giving him no other choice.

His mom sighed and placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, who nodded and skipped the song. They eventually settled on some boring classical music, and Ray went back to drawing, finishing up the simple table he had been working on. He was certainly starting to get the hang of this perspective stuff. Sunbeams from behind the trees warmed his face as he added the last of the legs to the table, then went back to incorporate a bowl sitting atop it.

“I don’t know how you can be so grumpy with such an exciting week coming up,” his dad said. “And plus, in a few minutes, you’ll finally be out of the car! I can tell you’ve been sick of being in here for so long.”

“It’s toasty out,” his mom added, glancing at the touchscreen on the dashboard. “Thirty degrees! We’re going to have to buy you some more warm weather clothes.”

Ray pulled at the sides of his cargo shorts. “It’s Fahrenheit here, Mom,” he said, peering out the window. “Everything’s in Fahrenheit,” he grumbled.

“What, not a Fahrenheit guy?” his dad joked with a patronizing chuckle.

“No. I hate it! I just want celsius back!” Ray snapped, his voice cracking.

“Ray,” his mother began, turning around again, “we know it can be hard to adjust at first, but we think you’re going to love it here. It’s far more relaxed. Please, just give it some time.” Ray didn’t reply, focused on drawing a caricature of his father on the corner of the page, so she reached back and took his wrist in her hand. “At the end of the week, the house will be ready, you’ll have a new room, and a whole new place to explore,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, which he pulled away.

The car hit a small bump, lurching Ray’s hand across the paper and leaving behind an ugly, dark streak. He smashed the sketchbook closed and flung it down on the empty seat, then leaned back and crossed his arms. Everything that was happening in his life was the exact opposite of what he wanted, every little moment a reminder of how he was just a kid, completely powerless over his own life and destiny.

He spent the rest of the drive staring out the window, watching the endless pine trees sail past as the car brought him to yet another place he didn’t want to be. Maybe he could find something on the ground to eat that would make him barf. At least then he would be sent home and not have to spend a week with a hundred strangers.

As the car rolled into the small dirt lot full of cars, Ray peered anxiously out the window at all the kids and parents shuffling about, carrying around suitcases and bags. He stuffed his sketchbook and pencil into his small red backpack, then sunk his head between his legs. His cheek brushed against his soft, hairless knee—a cruel reminder of his immaturity.

His mom opened the car door, sending warm, dry air rushing into the car. When Ray didn’t move, she pressed him. “Come on out, Ray. Don’t you want to meet new people?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes, but she couldn’t see his face, so he sat up. “No Mom,” he responded snarkily, “I just want to see my old friends again.”

“You will. We’ll go visit, I promise. Now, come on out,” she said, extracting him from the car by the arm.

“Why can’t I come with you guys to the house?” he moaned, slumping as she dragged him out onto the dirt ground. “I’ll just stay in my room and be quiet!”

“Ray, we’ve been over this. There’s no furniture in your room yet. You’ll be much happier here, where you’ll have an actual bed, and other kids your age.”

“But—”

“No.”

He sighed, huffily accepting the terrible truth. The family made their way over to the check-in, where Ray met some of the camp counselors who welcomed him in earnest. A man took his sleeping bag, backpack, and nylon duffel bag, then directed him to an assembly area.

After his parents finished signing the paperwork and said their goodbyes, Ray followed the dirt path plastered with wooden signs pointing him to a large clearing. A sea of natural log benches full of kids surrounded a small central stage, where a few adults seemed to be setting up a microphone stand. Ray walked with his head down and took a seat on the first empty bench he could find, folding his hands in his lap in an effort to hide away from the bustling world around him. It was only the one week he had to get through, after which he could go see his new home, which would be at least a little more interesting than dirt and trees.

Under the bench, Ray found a scraggly little twig that he used to draw shapes in the dirt. He started with a few circles, then made some spirals, an eye, and lastly a holy cross, before he was interrupted by a noisy group of boys sitting down next to him on the bench. He held his breath, praying nobody would try talking to him; he was too cranky to be social after such a stressful car ride.

“Hi!” a voice squeaked beside him, and he turned to find a slender, tanned blonde boy about his age grinning at him.

“Hey,” Ray replied, forcing an unconvincing smile. 

The boy looked down at his dirt scribblings. “Whatcha doin’? Drawing stuff?” he asked, drawing out the words in a painfully effeminate voice.

Why can’t this kid just leave me alone? Isn’t it obvious I want to be? “I’m just bored,” Ray said, kicking the drawings out of existence.

“Nice. Can I see your stick?” the boy asked.

“Uhh, sure.”

Ray handed him the twig. The boy ran his fingers down the length of it as if straightening it out.

“Well, I’m pretty beat at drawing, but I can do one of these bad boys…” He drew two connected circles, then placed a longer oval protruding from them. Ray frowned at the crude drawing.

A sharp ringing sound sent Ray and most of the other campers scrambling to cover their ears. Ray looked over to the stage to find one of the female counselors adjusting the microphone.

“Welcome, campers!” she said into the mic with that fake friendly voice that adults loved to use. Another counselor handed her a sheet of paper, and she squinted at it, adjusting the cheap visor that rested atop her blonde hair. “It’s gonna be a super fun week together, so let’s make sure we’re all on the same page!” she said, her eyes scanning the paper.

Ray’s gaze crawled curiously down her white tank top to the running shorts that closely hugged her strong thighs. He felt a familiar stirring in his groin—a fluttery, exciting feeling that left his whole body feeling tingly. It was a strange sensation that he began experiencing more and more in recent months. After a covert glance in either direction, he placed his folded hands in his lap.

The woman explained the history and procedures of the camp, then instructed the campers to form several lines in front of the counselors to receive their cabin number, as well as wristbands for the cafeteria. Ray raced to the lines and picked one he felt looked shortest.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, his fingers brushed against his mechanical pencil, and he slipped it out of his pocket to fidget with. Ray was optimistic that the full tube of lead and single eraser would last him the week. As a stocking stuffer, the pencil was by and far his favorite and most used Christmas gift from the last year. He clicked the eraser a few times, drawing out some lead, then satisfyingly pushed it all back in against his palm, wondering how long it would be before he would get some alone time in the cabin to draw.

“Stop, stop!” A boy cried behind him, drawing Ray’s attention. The boy laughed as his friend’s tickling fingers sent him crashing into Ray’s backside. Ray let out a surprised yelp as he was knocked into someone in front of him, losing his grip on the pencil and dropping it into the dirt. After regaining his balance, he quickly kneeled to pick it up but was pushed again, stumbling forward and stepping on the fragile plastic tube with a snap.

His mouth opened in equal surprise and horror, and he spun around to face the person who’d pushed him. “You broke my pencil!” Ray shrieked. The boy simply grimaced and shuffled back into the line.

Ray knelt and scooped the two plastic fragments into his palm, blowing away the accompanying dust. He hung his head, tearing up but trying to keep from sobbing, and deposited the scraps into his pocket. Just like that, his week was ten times worse than it already was. The turn of events wasn’t surprising to him, after all, he knew God hated him for whatever reason. Once he reached the front of the line, the male counselor at the flimsy plastic tables informed him he was assigned to cabin number 13 and tied a thin yellow band around his wrist.

“Are you alright?” the man asked him, noticing the redness around his eyes.

“Um… I was wondering if you had any tape?” Ray asked, hanging his head. “I accidentally broke my pencil,” he added meekly.

The counselor frowned and tapped the shoulder of a female counselor next to him, and asked if there was any tape or glue in the counselors’ office. She shook her head without looking at him, and he just shrugged at Ray.

He could feel a lump forming in his throat, and swallowed. “Where are the bathrooms?”

The counselor pointed him towards the restrooms, a wooden building away from the activity. It was empty inside, and he rushed past the numerous urinals into the first stall where he lowered the seat and sat down, letting out a quiet sob as he buried his head in his hands.

Why did I let my parents send me to this stupid place? he thought with a sniffle. Without a pencil or any friends, he felt more alone than ever. He took a minute to calm down, ripping off a square of toilet paper to dab his eyes with, then took a deep breath and hurried back to the assembly area.

The cabin groups were being combined into day groups, and Ray found a bulky man holding the sign for cabins thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen, slipping into the small crowd that was forming around the counselor. Once everyone from the cabins had shown up, the counselor introduced himself as twenty-four-year-old Henry, then had all the kids do so themselves. While Ray wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone new, a few of the introductions stood out to him.

“What’s up people, I’m Lucas, I’m radiant, and I’m an ass-kicker,” the blonde boy who had sat next to him earlier said, complete with exaggerated body motions and facial expressions. All the kids giggled, but Henry the counselor just rolled his eyes. “I was here last year, and if you were in my cabin, you’ll remember that I was the best dancer in the whole camp, and there’s a ninety-five percent chance that I still am! So, okay… next person!” he yelped, and passed along the baton that they were using as the “talking stick”.

The other introductions Ray paid attention to were from the boys in his cabin. Griffin was a thirteen-year-old from West London, there for his third year at the camp. He was the biggest kid in the group but still retained a higher-pitched prepubescent voice. Ray thought his accent sounded overly sophisticated for someone his age, and tried not to laugh when he first heard him speak.

Paris was also thirteen and spoke with his head held high to the point where Ray could see up his nose. His short stature and shoulder-length brown hair mirrored Ray’s, making him look a little younger than his thirteen years. In fact, Ray suspected he was taller than the boy. Ray hoped to hear him explain why he had such a bizarre name, but the explanation unfortunately never came.

The last kid in his cabin was Jonah. Compared to the other kids, Ray thought he looked the most friendly and approachable, wearing a baseball cap with some sort of happy face logo on it that seemed to perfectly match his expression.

After the introductions, Henry handed out small bags of pretzels and shepherded the group to their first and only activity for the day—a hike. Ray breathed a sigh of relief, more than happy to go on a chill hike rather than play some stupid game or sport.

The sixteen campers hiked up a grassy trail leading into the mountains on the far side of the camp, while Henry relayed random facts about the wildlife and the area. Ray yawned, uninterested in hearing about what kind of hawks populated the area, and slowed his pace to fall towards the rear of the group. It was a good opportunity to talk to the boys from his cabin. While Griffin and Paris were engaged in a lively chat with each other, Jonah walked by himself.

Ray trotted up beside him. “Hi, Jonah!”

“Oh, heyo Ray!”

“I really like your hat! It’s got the kind of energy I could use right now,” he said, admiring the boy’s navy blue cap.

“Thanks! You a fan of the show?” he asked, tapping the smiley face logo on the front.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was a TV show. But still, it looks awesome.”

Jonah stroked the back of his neck. “It’s gonna be cool to have you in our cabin. I was worried when they told me I was with those two,” he said, pointing at Paris and Griffin.

“Oh. ‘Cause they’re older?” Ray guessed, recalling that they were both thirteen. Jonah, he estimated, was probably about eleven or twelve.

“No, they’re just… weird.”

“Weird? How come?”

“They were here last year, and got in trouble for some stuff.”

“Really?” Ray glanced over at the teenage duo. “What kinda stuff?”

Jonah looked around to make sure nobody was listening to them and spoke softly. “Paris’s mom is actually famous, so his family’s really rich. Her name’s Charlotte Kingston.”

“Oh!” Ray exclaimed, widening his eyes. “Like, the actress? That’s crazy!”

“Yup! So last year he brought a bunch of stuff to camp, like iPhones and expensive watches, then would do stuff like dare a kid to pants one of the counselors, and give ‘em something for it.”

Ray giggled and looked over at Paris. “I’d totally pants a counselor for an iPhone.” For the last two years, he’d asked his parents for a phone for both his birthday and Christmas, but never received one.

Jonah looked away. “Well, I wouldn’t.”

“So what about the other guy?”

“Griffin? Oh, they’re like best friends or something. I don’t know them super duper well, I just avoided them most of the week I was at camp. They weren’t in my day group or cabin, so I didn’t have to put up with them a lot.”

Ray was intrigued, and as they walked he silently wondered if maybe Paris brought more stuff this time to give away. He’d love to have a phone, considering his stupid parents didn’t want him to have one yet.

“So, is your name short for Raymond?” Jonah asked.

“No, it’s just Ray.”

“Oh,” Jonah chuckled. “That’s strange!”

“It is?”

“Well, usually Ray is short for Raymond.”

“Oh, yeah I guess. My parents called me it because it means ‘Ray of light’. Pretty lame.”

“It’s not lame! I think it’s awesome. Wanna know why?” he asked and pulled a necklace out from his collar—a cross necklace that gleamed in the low sun’s reflection. “My family’s Catholic. What about you?”

“Um… it’s complicated,” Ray started, but jumped in surprise when he heard a nearby girl shriek.

All the kids turned, some rushing over to the girl to see what was going on. Ray and Jonah looked at each other before racing over. Pushing their way past the other campers, they found the source of the commotion: a long, spotted brown snake that had slithered onto the trail. The kids were forming a semi-circle around it while Henry was doing his best to hold the crowd back with his arms. The snake had stopped and was slowly coiling with its head raised, and let out a loud hiss which sent some of the kids screaming and retreating.

“Whoa!” Jonah exclaimed, centering his glasses on his nose. “He’s huge!”

Ray stared, mouth agape. It had been a long time since he’d seen a snake in the wild, and this one was menacingly large. Unlike everyone’s expressions that ranged from mild to major concern, Jonah wore a wide Cheshire cat grin and took a step forward.

“Please stand back, everyone,” Henry begged the campers.

“That’s a gopher snake! They’re not dangerous,” Jonah said. “He’s only hissing because he’s freaked out.”

“Exactly, so let’s not freak it out more, alright? Let’s leave it alone and move on.”

The kids continued to watch the snake, but after the initial hype had faded, Henry was eventually able to get everyone to move on. Jonah waved goodbye to the snake as it disappeared into the distance.

“That was freaky, but I kinda hope we see another one,” Ray said. Jonah simply nodded, but stared off into the distance, seeming distracted. Ray wiggled a hand in front of his face. “Do you like snakes a lot or something?”

“Yup!” Jonah said, snapping out of his thoughts. “I have a pet gopher snake at home. Her name’s Faith.”

Weird name for a snake, Ray thought. “Cool. I didn’t know snakes could be girls,” he admitted.

“You didn’t? How did you think they had babies!” he asked, dramatically waving his arms in front of Ray.

“I guess I never thought about it,” Ray said, scrunching his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, I still don’t think I know.”

Jonah grinned. “Do you have any pets?”

“Um… we did have a hamster once. But it died after two weeks. He had an infection or something.”

“Ah. Well on the bright side, he’s in hamster heaven now!”

“I dunno about that…”

“What d’ya mean?”

Ray looked down. “To answer your question from before, I don’t think I’m religious.”

“Oh. That’s fine.”

They continued walking in awkward silence, with Ray becoming aware of the crunching gravel under every step until Griffin and Paris walked up alongside them.

“What are you telling our new roommate about us?” Griffin joked to Jonah, putting his arm around him.

“I was telling him about the time we dismantled your team in tug-of-war,” Jonah smugly replied. “Who was it that tripped, again?”

Griffin made a mock frown. “That’s only because our team had more girls. You know how it is, whichever team has more bloody girls is the losing team.”

Jonah laughed. “You’re not wrong!”

“‘Course he’s right,” Paris said, butting into the group. “Girls are the worst!” Ray laughed, but it came out louder than he’d anticipated and Paris glared at him. “What’s your opinion?”

Not wanting to be the odd one out, Ray plugged his nose and said, “Girls stink!”

Griffin laughed. “You guys’ll fit in well in our cabin,” he said, sliding between Jonah and Ray and putting his arms around them.

The rustic-themed cafeteria flourished with the spirited chatter of young kids. Ray dropped his disposable paper tray of food on top of the long, cedar table, taking the empty spot beside Paris, who didn’t acknowledge his presence. If the rumor about him bringing expensive stuff to camp was true, there was no way Ray wasn’t walking out of camp with a brand new cellphone. But first, he had to get on his good side.

“Is your mom really Charlotte Kingston?” Ray asked to the side of his head.

Paris turned and scoffed. “Really? You couldn’t tell?”

“Huh?”

“From my amazing genes? Everyone says I have her face.” He ran a hand through his bangs and then took a bite of pizza.

“Well, I dunno, I guess I see it now,” Ray said, stabbing his salad with a spork.

“His mum’s wonderful,” Griffin said to Ray. “She loves to do the voices of her characters at the dinner table! You should hear her bougie English accent, it’s flawless.”

“She only does that when people are over. Usually she’s just screaming her head off at me,” Paris grumbled.

“What’s it like to have a famous person as a parent?” Jonah asked from across the table, surprising Ray who hadn’t noticed he was there.

“It’s pretty normal, actually, because if you didn’t know, I’m going to be famous myself soon,” he said, his nose tilted upwards.

“What for?” Ray asked, wide eyes filling with intrigue.

“I don’t know yet,” Paris scoffed, stuffing the rest of his pizza in his mouth. “I’m still trying to decide.” 

“You could be a famous mukbanger with that mouth,” Griffin suggested.

Paris glared at him as he swallowed. “That doesn’t sound real.”

Griffin chuckled. “You clearly don’t go on YouTube enough.”

“Is your house really big?” Ray asked.

“Maybe,” Paris said flatly, taking a bite of his cake. “Are you going to eat that?” he asked Ray, pointing to Ray’s little cube of vanilla cake.

He looked down at it. “Y-yeah?”

“Well, what if we split it?”

Ray was torn. On one hand, he wanted to appear cool to Paris, but on the other hand… cake! “Um, I mean I guess—”

Paris impaled Ray’s cake with his spork, slicing it into two. “Here, you can have the bigger half,” he said, but lifted the marginally larger half onto his own tray and gulped the whole thing down in two solid bites. “Be right back,” he said with a wink, and left the table. Ray stared at Paris’s tray, empty aside from the completely untouched salad, and sighed.

“You can have some of mine if you’d like,” Griffin offered, pushing his tray a few inches towards him.

Ray shook his head. “That’s okay.” He finished his pizza and excused himself to the bathroom, walking past the countless tables of kids stuffing their mouths.

He pushed open the squeaky door, walked through the empty bathroom, and turned on the sink, staring blankly at the running water for a moment before splashing the cool liquid on his face. Why did he let Paris take his dessert? His old friends would never have even done such a thing. He had to say something, and not let Paris walk all over him like that. But then again, maybe he’d succeeded in getting on Paris’s good side. He grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at his face, and was about to leave the restroom when a voice echoed through the bathroom.

“Is that you, Ray?” The voice had come from the bathroom stall. It was Paris.

Ray stiffened and cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, turning around.

“Come here,” Paris said.

Ray furrowed his eyebrows. “In the stall?” What could he want? It was so hard to get a read on him.

“Yes,  and hurry!”

Ray ambled over to the stall and pushed his fingers against the door. He was nervous Paris might be using the toilet, but relieved when he opened the door and found him with his shorts still on.

“Close the door,” the smaller boy requested, and Ray did so. Paris was staring at his face, and Ray self-consciously turned his head away. “Why’re your eyes all red?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I… I have allergies… from the—”

“Were you crying?”

“No, I wasn’t!” Ray said, not wanting Paris to think of him as weak.

“Huh. It’s okay if you were, you know. My dad said it’s healthy to cry sometimes—”

“I wasn’t. Really!” he insisted.

“Okay,” Paris said, and puffed his cheeks out.

He stood up, driving Ray further into the corner of the already cramped stall, and in a swift motion, grabbed and shucked his shorts halfway down his legs. Ray was equally confused and fascinated, but tried not to stare too long at his fancy indigo boxer briefs, decorated with sparkly little raindrops that reflected light like a disco ball.

“Aren’t these cool?” Paris said, grinning. Ray nodded, imparting a nervous smile. “My dad bought me them last week. You’ll never guess how much they’re worth!”

It took Ray a second to realize Paris wanted an answer. “Um, I dunno. I don’t really go shopping for underpants a lot.”

“Just guess.”

“A hundred dollars?”

Paris frowned. “No. Eighty.”

“Oh, wow!” Ray said, trying to feign some enthusiasm; he still wanted that phone.

“What kind of underwear are you wearing?” Paris asked him, flicking his eager eyes down towards Ray’s midsection like it was a piece of vanilla cake.

“Um… just, normal underwear, I guess,” he said with a halfhearted laugh.

“Let me see,” Paris said with a peculiar dryness in his voice. 

Ray’s heart was thumping as butterflies ripped through his body. Something unusual was happening, but he was excited to be a part of whatever it was. Like a puppet not in control of its actions, his hands slowly descended to his cargo shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping them. He could feel Paris’s piercing gaze on his trembling hands as they reached into his waistband and lowered the shorts. Cool air tickled the exposed skin of his thighs underneath the boundary of his classic white underpants. This was the first time another boy had seen his underwear, except maybe—

The bathroom door squeaked open, and Paris was quick to silently leap onto the toilet, pulling his shoes onto the seat. He reached over and pulled the handle to flush the toilet, then waved his hand to shoo Ray out of the stall.

Ray turned and slipped out the door, stumbling out into the bathroom and heading back to the cafeteria. He rubbed his palms against his shorts as he walked, smoothing out the creases as if they would give away what he’d been doing. Back in the real world, Jonah was busy chatting with Griffin, and they both smiled when they saw Ray return.

“Where’s Paris?” Griffin asked Ray.

“Um, I think he’s… going number two…” Ray said, sitting down and staring blankly into the distance.

Griffin continued in a hushed tone. “As I said, his mum’s actually a bit nasty; she thinks she’s the greatest person ever or something,” he said in a hushed voice. “I like his dad a lot more. He’s always very nice to me when I visit.”

“Do you live here?” Jonah asked him, not ready to believe that anyone could live locally with an accent as intense as his.

“I don’t, but I usually spend summer at my dad’s holiday home in Clearwater.”

Ray’s ears perked up. “Oh, Clearwater! That’s the town I just moved to!”

“That’s brilliant. Clearwater’s beautiful, you’re going to love it, I think they’ve got the best beaches in the whole world,” Griffin said, smiling. “Paris’s dad has this amazing… well, I shouldn’t say,” he added cryptically.

“Paris seems sort of snobby,” Ray mused.

“Nah, he’s not that bad; he just really likes his sweets. He’s actually rather sweet once you get to know him.”

“Oh, please,” Jonah interjected. “Remember when he stole my glasses and tried to use them as a magnifying glass to burn ants?” he reminded him.

Griffin chuckled. “Yeah, it didn’t even work!”

“Of course it didn’t work!” Jonah shrieked.

“Is his dad famous, too?” Ray interrupted.

Griffin tapped his foot on the floor and crossed his arms. “Not really, I think he’s an entrepreneur, but I don’t really know what he does. All I know is he has an arse-load of money, and that he’s really pleasant to me.”

“Did y’all miss me?” Paris asked, strutting up behind them.

“There you are,” Griffin said, “having a shit, were we?” Paris grinned and lifted his shirt, flashing him a full roll of toilet paper stuffed underneath. Griffin gasped then laughed. “You cheeky bastard!”

As the two smirked and giggled at each other, Jonah turned to Ray and rolled his eyes. Ray didn’t understand the purpose behind stealing a roll of toilet paper, and Jonah saw the confused look in Ray’s eyes.

“Hooligans,” he explained.

Chirping crickets brought authenticity to the camping experience. Ray and his new roommates approached their cabin in the fading light, finding their bags placed by the door. Inside, two bunk beds towered on opposing sides of the otherwise empty room, illuminated by a fluorescent overhead fan light.

Paris and Griffin were quick to claim the bunk bed on the right. Griffin climbed up to the top bed and launched himself onto the firm mattress as if it were a pool of feathers. Jonah politely offered Ray the top bunk, but Ray insisted on taking the bottom one. As the boys unpacked, Ray rolled his sleeping bag out over the firm mattress, and slipped inside to quickly change into his pajamas. The now topless older boys lay side-by-side on Paris’s bed, watching videos on Griffin’s phone—an item Ray recalled being off-limits at the camp.

Ray fished out the broken pencil pieces from his shorts, then dropped his discarded clothes into his bag. Sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag, pressed the broken ends of the pencil together, wondering if there was any hope left for the poor thing. Even holding the pieces together, he was unable to get a good enough grip to be able to draw anything with it. He removed the broken fragments of the lead stick and attempted to draw lines with them, but found he either was unable to use enough pressure to draw, or the sticks would snap in two.

“Darn it,” he cursed under his breath after the third break. How did I not think to bring a backup?

Jonah’s upside-down head swung down from above. It was the first time Ray saw him without his cap and glasses on, and he decided he looked much less dorky that way.

“Are you drawing?” Jonah asked, his eyes focusedon Ray’s sketchpad.

“Trying to,” Ray told him and sighed as he held up a small stalk of lead. “My pencil broke.” 

Jonah scratched his chin. “Hmmm, I might’ve brought a pen in my bag. One sec!” he said, and withdrew his head. The prospect of a pen sent hope surging through Ray’s eager body, and he leaned forward in anticipation. Sure enough, Jonah reappeared, climbing down the ladder on the back of the bunk, and handed Ray a little blue ballpoint pen.

“Thanks, Jonah!” he said, clicking it a few times as he did a joyous internal dance.

“You’re welcome,” the boy responded, smiling. “Can I watch you draw?”

Ray nodded, and Jonah hopped onto the bed, sitting cross-legged beside him in pajama bottoms and the same shirt from the day. He took a glance at the page and giggled at some of Ray’s drawings.

Although Ray had never drawn a snake before, he thought it would be a good way to thank Jonah for lending him the pen. As he drew, Jonah offered suggestions, and after adding the last few scales, Ray was taken aback by what he’d managed to draw. Long and slender, curvy and coiled, the snake’s darting tongue seemed to pop out of the paper. He capped off the drawing by adding Jonah’s hat on top of its head.

After exchanging high-fives, Ray moved on to drawing their cabin, and at Jonah’s suggestion, added automated turrets on the sides to keep intruders and dangerous wildlife away. Ray was ecstatic to have a drawing companion, and was elated with the additions he wouldn’t have otherwise thought to make. The two were enraptured with their high-tech cabin creation when they looked up to find Paris standing by the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, grabbing for the sketchpad.

Ray pulled it away, cradling it in his arms. “Drawing,” he answered, and turned it around so Paris could look.

“What is that?” He squinted. “Looks like just a bunch of random stuff.”

“They’re sketches.”

Paris looked at the drawings again. “Can I try writing something?”

Ray reluctantly handed the pad and pen over to him, and he sat down on the bed and began drawing circles. Griffin watched from Paris’s bed with his head propped on one arm. When Paris added jutting straight lines from the two circles, Ray immediately identified what he was up to.

“What the heck?!” he shouted, snatching the pen from Paris’s hand as well. “I can’t erase pen! Why does everyone here draw that?” He angrily scribbled out the drawing as Paris laughed a nefarious laugh and returned to his bed.

“Ray, what’s that on your shirt?” Griffin asked, lounging in Paris’s bed. “Is it a kitty?”

Ray stretched out the long-sleeve pajama top, flattening the image of the white cat on the front. “It’s ‘yang’, from the ‘yin-yang’. Except, well, it’s a cat.”

“It’s brilliant!”

Ray smiled, caught off guard by the random compliment. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Paris said dismissively, “check these out, Griffin!” He pulled down his shorts and stood with hands on his hips as Griffin examined his boxer briefs, the raindrops glistening like diamonds under the glow of the fan light.

“Wow!” he said, taking a closer look. “Fancy. Aren’t those the ones that your dad—”

“Uh-huh, and guess how much they costed?”

Jonah grinned at Ray, and they both giggled at his odd obsession with the underwear. While he was twirling to show Griffin the backside, there was a bang on the door. It opened, and Henry peered inside.

“Paris, what the hell are you up to now?” he groaned, facepalming.

Paris turned to him with a big smile. “Look at these sweet li’l undies, Henry,” he said, swishing his hips. “You’ll never guess how much they costed.” 

Henry ignored him. “Guys, lights out in thirty minutes. Brush your teeth and use the bathroom before then. I’ll be back here to flip the switch myself if I see the lights still on.”

Ray raised his hand. “Are we allowed to use the bathroom after lights out?”

“Yes, but only if it’s an emergency… and do not leave this cabin otherwise. Tomorrow, I’ll be back here at seven o’clock sharp. If you want to take a shower then, that’ll be your chance, but we only have five minutes worth of water per person. Shampoo, conditioner, and soap are all available in the showers. If you forgot a towel, come down to the office and we’ll provide you one.” The boys nodded and Henry left, continuing on to the next few cabins.

Down at the restrooms, the group brushed their teeth together at the long array of sinks uneventfully, until a boy from another cabin panicked upon accidentally swallowing his toothpaste.

Back in the cabins, Jonah sat on Ray’s bed while Ray showed him some of his drawings from earlier pages. Jonah was impressed most of all by Ray’s humorous comics, and soon the duo was brainstorming ideas for new ones, bouncing ideas off one another.

“Okay, okay, wait, how about this one!” Jonah said after the two recovered from their latest laughing fit. “It’s a buncha lizards, and one of them’s an AI robot. They all go to their favorite watering hole for a drink, but one of the lizards accidentally pushes the robot lizard into the water. So he’s glitching and shorting out, and everyone’s shouting ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong?’, and one of the lizards says… he’s just having an e-reptile dysfunction!”

He cackled at his joke, but Ray just tilted his head and forced a smile. “What? How do you even think of this stuff?” Ray giggled, tapping the pen against his chin. “And why do they have to be lizards?”

Jonah smirked at him. “Trust me, they just have to.”

“Well, I don’t know how to draw lizards!”

“But you know how to draw a snake now, and lizards are just snakes with little arms and legs!”

Ray pictured arms and legs being attached to a snake in a lizard factory. “Whoa, you’re right. I never thought about it like that!”

Jonah giggled. Ray was overjoyed to have made a friend who was interested in his drawings, and Jonah brought so much more to the table with his crazy ideas about weapons and lizards and such. He was beginning to feel more optimistic not only about summer camp, but moving in general. While he missed his old friends, maybe the people here weren’t so bad after all. He’d already met some cool and interesting people.

“Do you think God really has a plan for all of us?” Ray asked in the middle of their comic drawing.

“Where’d that come from?” Jonah asked.

“I dunno… sometimes it seems like life just totally sucks. But then it starts getting better. But does it always get better, or is it just random?”

Jonah lay back in the bed and spent a few moments thinking about the best way to answer his question. “I like to think that everything will always turn out alright, no matter what,” he said and sat up. “But what the heck do I know? I’m only twelve.”

“Lights out, kids,” Paris said, standing by the door. He had since abandoned his shorts and was now dressed in only his shiny underwear. “If Henry comes back to check on us, he might want to have his way with me!”

“That’s sick!” Jonah said, his face twisted in disgust as Griffin laughed.

“I know!” Paris said, combing a hand through his hair. “They gotta stop hiring molesters here.” His confidence fascinated Ray, who, even after what occurred in the bathroom stall, could not picture himself in his underwear in front of three other boys without having a panic attack.

“I mean you’re the sick one!” Jonah clarified. “Get your head out of the gutter.”

“The gutter’s my home,” Paris replied, then cupped a hand in front of his mouth. “I live there,” he whispered and flicked off the light switch. Darkness filled the room.

Jonah reluctantly said goodnight to Ray and climbed up into his bed. Ray tucked the sketchpad under the bed and crawled into his sleeping bag. As he got in, his eyelids suddenly felt heavy, and only then did it hit him how tired he was. Lying in bed, he found himself curious about his new home for the first time. How would his room look, and would it be bigger than his old one? Maybe the neighbors had kids his age he could play with. A content smile crossed his face as he drifted asleep, finally looking forward to the days ahead.

Ominous, empty beach stretched for miles in front of Ray, disappearing into thick fog. He walked along it, sand filling uncomfortably between his toes with every step. It was the dead of night—a pitch-black sky with a distinctive and unnerving lack of stars. To his left, the sea; fierce and rough like the middle of the ocean more than the water of the coast, and just as dark as the midnight sky.

The water called to him, whispering his name. Reluctantly, he approached the water. The cold waves splashed against his ankles as creepy black tendrils snaked around his legs, holding him in place as he struggled against them. Far from the shore, a shadowy figure in the water was rising from the crashing waves, plainly visible against the bright reflection of the moon. Ray was paralyzed in fear and willed himself not to look, but could not seem to tear his eyes away.

It was a snake, at least the head of one, with its mouth curved into a sinister smile; umbral vapors escaping from its form like demonic steam. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the figure; its eyes. Viridescent eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to a serpent stared into Ray’s soul—eyes that Ray had always known and would never forget.

Ray’s eyes flickered open, his body engulfed in unpleasant warmth. His breathing, rapid and full of fear, drowned out the steady whirring sound of the ceiling fan. Raising a hand to his forehead, he wiped away the dampness of his sweat. His breathing relaxed as he remembered where he was, comforted by the presence of his friends. Wait. He rubbed his eyes and looked across the room. Something wasn’t right.

Socked feet thumped against the wooden floor as Ray slipped off his bed. He stumbled around in the darkness, arms extended until they made contact with a metal frame. As his eyes slowly adjusted his unsettling suspicion was confirmed: the bunk bed was empty; Paris and Griffin were gone. 

Heart racing, he turned back to his bunk, checking to see if Jonah was still there. Although it was hard to make out at first, his tensed muscles began to relax when he saw the rising and falling of Jonah’s sleeping shape. Crickets chirped as he crept over to the door, opening it slowly to suppress its creak. Peering out into the darkness, he saw nothing; no motion, no light, only hearing the faint howl of the arid midnight wind.