Camp Gorebury

Chapter Eighteen

Finn

I'm beginning to wonder if my roommate has a death wish. I thought he was going to pull a Becca the first time Owen asked him about his parents— his face turned dark so quick that I actually saw the counselor reach for his walkie-talkie, as if preparing for another chair-kicking fiasco. It's only our second week at camp, and Ronan almost has enough marks for kitchen duty.   When he's not busy making my life a living hell, he's getting into trouble with the counselors, often times with Clancey or those two boys that act like members of the Three Stooges. Ronan breaks the rules so often that I  think he just does it for the thrill of it, to make life at camp a little more bearable in his own shitty way. It's almost painful to watch him self-destruct like this, and sometimes I want to go up to him and shake him by the shoulders and ask, who hurt you?  Not that I would ever do that, of course. I'm not asking to be punched in the face.  In the mornings, he puts on one of his own shirts instead of the mandatory camp one, and then throws on another layer, usually his army jacket or Yankees hoodie, so that the counselors won't call him out on it. I'm counting down the days until he gets caught and Karen yells at him with her megaphone.   We don't even talk anymore— so far, the only real conversation we've had all week consisted of this:  "Hey, asshole." (This is Ronan speaking. You can tell because he either only refers to me as asshole or Fish.)  "What do you want?"  "I want to know if you moved the duffel bags under my bed."  "I didn't even know you kept your bags there."  "Sure, but you didn't answer my question. My bags were in a different place this morning than they were yesterday. Are you positive you didn't move them?"  "I don't give two shits about your duffel bags so yeah, I'm positive."  "Fine. Just leave my stuff alone."  We're part of different groups, so we rarely see each other outside of the cabin— I sit with Jasper and his friends, and Ronan buddies up with Clancey and the rest of his moron squad. It still blows my mind that Ronan decided to befriend someone like Clancey. My roommate might be an asshole, but he's got nothing on Clancey, who acts like his sole purpose in life is to make everybody at camp totally miserable.  My arm still burns from where Clancey whipped me in the arm with a wet towel one night in the bathroom. I still don't know what I did to piss him off. What are you going to do? Clancey's voice echoes through my head. Have your dad arrest me? I can almost hear him chuckling to himself. You're adorable, Fish.  Having to deal with Clancey in real life is bad enough. I don't need him mocking me in my own head, too. I push my thoughts of him away, determined not to let him get to me like that. I have more important things to worry about than a football player with an over-sized ego and zest for violence, anyways. Because today is special. Today is mail day.  Every Sunday during lunch, the counselors distribute all the letters and packages we were sent over the week. Getting mail is a privilege that the counselors can take away whenever they want, so mail day is kind of a big deal. I scraped by with only two marks this week, both for speaking when the counselors told us to be quiet, so I'm hoping for a letter from mom or one of my Cross Country friends.   A traitorous part of me even longs for another letter from Sarah.  don't support her decision to get married at the age of twenty, but it's not like I can stop her— and if she's really going to have a wedding this summer, I want to know all the details.  I'm not stupid enough to think that dad would ever remember to send me anything.  I go running before breakfast to clear my mind. It's a peaceful morning, and I fall into a steady, meditative pace, focusing on my stride and my breathing — until I hear footsteps behind me on the trail. It's the third time I've encountered Becca Fisher on the trail, and no matter how fast I run to try and get away from her, she always catches up to me in the end.  "Why so slow, Fish?" Becca asks, grinning at me as she bounded up to my side. She hasn't let me forget losing our race on the first day of camp. "Please tell me this is your warm-up."  "If this is your idea of fun, you must have a really boring life."  "I'm hurt, Fish. I really thought we were running buddies."  "You're not my buddy."  Becca clutches dramatically at her heart. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on sticking around for long. Running at a pace this slow makes me restless. I just wanted to chat."  "Is there a reason why you won't quit bugging me? Or do you just get off on tormenting random guys?"  "You ever heard of the verse Isaiah 48:22?"  "Uh, no. I'm not Catholic."  "Neither am I."  She grins at me again. I'm beginning to dislike her grins.   "Okay, then." I didn't understand why Becca is quoting Bible verses at me if she isn't Catholic, but I rarely understand half the things she said or did. "Are you gonna tell me what it means?"  She shrugs. "Probably not."  "Great. This conversation has been super helpful."  "My pleasure."  I shoot Becca a glare. Then I speed up, trying to put her and her confusing Bible verses behind me.  Unfortunately, Becca is faster than me and my worries combined. She springs up to my side, leaning in close to my ear, and whispers so loudly that I can feel her breath on my ear: "I bet you twenty bucks that your mommy sends you a care package."  I spin away from her, nearly tripping over a tree root in the process. "What is your deal?" I demand. "Just— leave me the f**k alone!"  Becca just smiles knowingly at me and kept running. In less than no time, she leaves me behind in the dust.  I spit out a few choice swear words, turn around, and run back to my cabin to get ready for breakfast.  ***  By the time the counselors arrive out with their canvas bags of letters, all the campers have taken their seats and are waiting for the names to be called. The only person I don't see in the room is Ronan. Strange.  "Here's the deal," Karen says to the impatient crowd. "Unless you earn more than five marks during the week, we give you your mail on Sunday. If you earn more than five marks, you get to wait for next week. Complain and I'll make that two weeks. If you want to send a letter back, just drop them off in the box in front by the Director's cabin and we'll stamp them and send them out for you. Are there any questions?"  Nobody, not even Matt Mernan, raises their hand.  Owen wheels a box, presumably full of mail, to the front of the room. Karen opens the box and begins to read off names in alphabetical order.  "Addison, Alissa."  Alissa strides to the front of the Hall to retrieve a stack of mail. Her face looks almost relieved when she sees the collection of letters.  "Bailey, Daniel."  Daniel gets a chunky brown package plastered with stamps. It's glaringly obvious that it's a care package. A few people snicker at him, and his face turns a brilliant red as he hurries across the cafeteria, the box tucked protectively under his arm.  Across the room Becca catches my eye and smiles; moments later, the expression is wiped off her face when Karen calls her name.  Becca doesn't get a care package. All she gets is a single envelope, which looks lonely in her hand as she carries it back to her table.  She doesn't open the letter, but she also doesn't try to catch my eye again, either. I almost feel a little bad for her. Maybe she wasn't trying to be entirely mocking when she asked me to be her running buddy....  Eventually, the counselors work their way to the middle of the alphabet. "Murphy, Finn."  My mouth goes dry. "Wish me luck," I say to the table, before marching to the front of the room to collect my mail.  "You've got a good haul here, Murphy," Owen says, reaching into the box. "There are a lot of people outside Lightlake that care about you."  This doesn't sound very true, but I'm too anxious to bother arguing with the counselor. "Sure, sure," I reply, bouncing up and down on the balls on my feet.  He pulls his arm out of the box and hands me my mail. I can barely stop myself from jumping with joy when I see what it is— three letters and no care package. "Thank you," I say breathlessly, before taking my letters and returning to the table.  "What'd you get?" Jasper asks as soon as I sit down.   I stare down at the letters in my hands. I've been waiting all day for this moment, but now that I've actually got my mail, I feel reluctant to open it. "I don't know." The letters all have return addresses on them, but I'm trying not to look. "Honestly, I'm a little scared to find out."  Jasper looks at the letters wistfully. "I can't wait until I get to open my own mail."  "I'm sure that the counselors will call your name soon; S isn't too far down the alphabet."  "It's not that. I have too many...." Jasper blushes. "I have five marks. So no mail until next week."  "s**t, Jasper. How'd you already rack up that many marks?"  "I asked him the same thing," Emily says, "but he refused to tell me."  Jasper's face is now beet-red. "Can we talk about something else? The whole mark thing is really embarrassing."  "It's not embarrassing, it's just weird. You're the last person here I'd expect to break the rules."  "I didn't break the rules. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."  Emily spears an overcooked carrot stick with her fork and waves it at him, saying, "Keep your secrets, then. But I'm telling you now that they won't stay secrets for long."  "That's reassuring," Jasper mutters.  I start to peel the turkey meat off my sandwich. There still aren't many vegetarian options at the buffet table, but I've been picking up some tricks to cope (and not starve). "Quit bothering him, Emily. If he doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to talk."  Emily stuffs the carrot into her mouth and chews. The metal stud on her lower lip bobs up and down frantically. "You're still sore about us finding out about your cop dad, aren't you?"  "I couldn't care less what you think about my dad or his job. And I'm sorry if you're too narrow-minded to realize that not every kid turns out like their parents."  Emily narrows her eyes at me. "Are you calling me narrow-minded?"  "If the shoe fits."  "Listen here, Fish—"  "Finn Murphy?"  A letter slams down on the table in front of me, and I jump in my seat.  "Your roommate didn't come to collect his mail," Karen says crossly. "He hasn't shown up to breakfast yet, so I'm going to trust you to give him this for him."  "Oh. Okay." I slide the letter over to join the rest of my mail pile. "I'll give it to him tonight."  Karen raises her eyebrows at me. "So you can lose it during one of your activities? Not tonight, Murphy. Now."  "But I'm still eating—"  "Now."  Scowling, I scoop up the pile of letters and head for the door. The only thing keeping me from tearing up Ronan's letter and dropping it in the trash is the chance that Karen might see and give me a mark for it. I can't believe it— even when Ronan isn't around, he's still a thorn in my side.  This summer is going to feel very, very long indeed.