Chapter Text
Gideon had been waiting on the steps of the convent for the better part of an hour.
She was eager to put some long-awaited space between her and the smelly old building, to spend another blissful summer away from the nuns who had raised her after she was left on their doorstep 18 years ago. It wasn’t that she didn't feel some semblance of gratitude toward them, just they were old and cranky and boring as shit, and she had long since reached her limits on wiping dust off of stained glass windows and breathing in stale air. She looked forward to swimming in the crisp water of the lake, to hearing the sound of the trees rustling in the breeze, hell, she even looked forward to the mosquitos. She was quite fond of the smell of bug spray.
A black backpack hit the step beside her.
She was not looking forward to Harrow coming along.
Every year since they were 9, Harrow and Gideon left the convent for the summer and spent eight weeks at summer camp. Six years later they were getting paid to wrangle kids like them.
“You’ve been out here for hours,” Harrow took a seat on the steps, a healthy distance from Gideon. Her black hair was pinned up on the sides, and she wore her usual amount of dark makeup, emphasizing the sharp cut of her lips. It was an off-putting sight for Gideon, who was trying to enjoy the beautiful day, and now found herself interrupted by the gloom that Harrow seemed to carry with her wherever she went.
“I was hoping they might come early, and we could leave without you.”
Harrow picked at a rip in her black tights. “Sorry you’re left disappointed.”
Gideon opened her mouth to retort but caught sight of the girl’s far off expression. Coupled with her head-to-toe blacks, she looked like someone had drawn a frown in a pool of ink. “Are you, like, good?”
“Am I good?” There was that familiar sneer.
“You seem more gothically disconsolate than usual.”
“Gothic – have you been reading tomes again?”
“How could you tell?”
“They make you verbose."
“Thank you – wait, fuck you.”
Harrow was silent, and Gideon considered whether it was worth pressing further when she quite frankly did not care, when Harrow grumbled, “I received a letter,” and produced a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her black denim shorts.
She offered it to Gideon without looking at her, which Gideon found to be dramatic, but on brand.
Gideon opened the meticulously folded sheet and read the first line out loud. “Congratulations, we are pleased to offer you acceptance into our undergraduate program for admission this Fall.”
Gideon blinked. “Harrow, this is an acceptance letter. Why on earth has this got you all pouty?”
“Because,” she snatched the letter back. “I can’t afford to go.”
“Okay, but arent there, you know, bursaries?”
She shrugged. “Not enough evidently.”
“Well,” Gideon frowned. It didn’t seem fair that Harrow wasn’t going to be able to take her giant brain to university. What would she do? Stay at that smelly vintage clothing store she worked at? It stunk worse than the convent. If Harrow and her super brain were going to be stuck in this town for the rest of their – her life, what did that mean for Gideon? “That doesn’t seem fair.”
Harrow sighed. “Griddle, have either of our lives been particularly fair?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume this is one of the times your question is optional.”
“Rhetorical, but yes.”
Like Gideon, Harrow was an orphan. Her parents were, scandalously, a nun and a reverend who harboured a secret affair, birthed Harrow, and then promptly died. According to the Bible they also went to hell, which might explain Harrow’s permanent murky demeanor. Gideon wasn’t positive her own parents were dead, and if so, they totally weren’t in hell. Her parents would definitely be in heaven, smiling down at earth and thinking about how good-looking their child was.
Regardless, Gideon harboured some empathy for Harrow. They had grown up together, walked to elementary school side by side, ate all their meals glaring at each other from opposite ends of a long table. They had been dealt an almost identical hand, and so, Gideon understood what it was like to lack options.
“So, what?” Gideon said. “You’ll stay here and become a nun?”
Harrow heaved a heavy sigh. “Perhaps.”
Gideon opened her mouth to attempt a dirty joke, (she hadn’t quite thought of one yet, but these things tended to come easily to her in the heat of the moment) but was cut off by the sound of tires on pavement. A doorless, roofless, dark green jeep pulled into view, and a lean young man with dark hair and rounded sunglasses jumped out eagerly.
Gideon picked up her bag and bounded down the steps two at a time. She extended her arms to Palamedes who met her embrace enthusiastically. He patted her pack as they hugged, and when they finished, he smiled big at Harrow.
“Where are the doors?” Harrow asked him bleakly.
“I ate them,” said Camilla, who was propped up on the driver’s seat. She’d poked her head out of the non-existent roof of the car, her arms resting on the roll cage. Her short hair had been gathered into a loose ponytail that stuck out from the opening of her blue ball cap.
“Good to see you too, Nonagesimus.” Palamedes had to bend over to hug Harrow, who was still fretting about the doors.
“What if it rains?” she asked.
“You’ll melt,” said Gideon with a smile.
“It's not going to rain,” Palamedes assured her. “I checked the weather seven times. Come on, we’re burning daylight.”
They tucked their bags into the trunk and clamored into the backseat. Gideon fixed her dark sunglasses on her nose, dimming the light of the sun. Camilla started the car and adjusted her hat in the rear-view mirror.
“Oh,” Gideon leaned into the front. “Spin the tires Cam, will you?”
Camilla did not respond, but both Harrow and Palamedes said, “No,” – Harrow more annoyed and Palamedes more nervous.
“Seatbelts?” Camilla asked, and when she received the chorus of yesses, she put the Jeep into drive and casually reached for a button on the dash.
She moved her left foot onto the brake pedal and hit the gas with her right. The back tires spun with a loud screech, flinging tiny pebbles of gravel behind them. After a few seconds Camilla let up on the brakes and turned the wheel quickly. They took off down the street, the back end of the Jeep swinging to the left before it straightened out again.
Harrow gripped the back of the driver’s seat and Gideon’s arms flew up to hold the bar above her.
Gideon whooped, “Hello summer!”
“I hate when you do that.” Palamedes said, defeated, when the car had righted and the smell of burnt rubber had dissipated.
“Sorry Warden,” Camilla winked at Gideon though the rear-view mirror. “Lost control of the wheel.”
“And the brakes and the gas pedal apparently,” he sighed.
“We don’t have doors!” Harrow croaked. Her grip on the driver’s seat was white knuckled.
Camilla hummed in agreement. “Good thing you weren’t lying about the seatbelts.”
...
Judith Deuteros was not religious, but she said a silent prayer as she twisted the key to her parents old 98’ range rover. She’d inherited the vehicle when she turned sixteen, and it had broken down upwards of 12 times in the five years that had passed since then. She really needed it to start today.
It did not.
“Come on,” she patted the dashboard, warm from the hot summer heat, with her left hand while she tried the key again with her right. She was not going to be late on her first day.
Nothing.
“If there is a God,” she grabbed the steering wheel in her left hand and twisted it left and right, turning the key at the same time. To her delight, the SUV sputtered a few times before whirring to a start. “I owe him big time.”
She let her head fall against the wheel.
The subdivision she grew up in disappeared behind her as she pulled onto the main road and headed towards the 403 onramp.
As much as she was nervous for this summer, she was also relieved to have some time away from her parents house. She did mean to move out eventually, but rent was expensive and all her friends – well, Marta, lived in the city.
When she pulled up in front of the three-story apartment building half an hour later, she left the car running. She had a full tank of gas and wasn’t taking any chances.
Marta emerged from the front entrance with a wave and Judith returned it unenthusiastically. She approached the car and leaned into the passenger side window.
“Thanks again, Judith,” she smiled. “You’re a life saver.”
Marta was the reason she was in this predicament. Her older friend was supposed to be the one on her way to camp today but had received a semi-last-minute job offer she could not pass up. Judith had a hard time saying no, so she had taken her place.
She was not completely turned off by the idea – she had gone to the same camp with the lot of them as a kid. It could be nostalgic, she thought, and give her a chance to reconnect with her childhood friends.
The door to the apartment building opened again, and three people emerged. Two girls were carrying purple duffle bags and a boy held three more.
Marta knocked her knuckles against the window frame. "Are you ever going to move out of your parents place?”
“And live where?”
“Corona said she would share her room with you,” Marta winked.
“Jesus Christ.”
Their attention was drawn back to the front door where Ianthe had placed her bag on top of the three Naberius was already holding. This had caused him to completely topple over, and Corona appeared to be trying to help him up while stifling her laughter.
“Walk it off, Babs,” Ianthe patted him on the back as he rose to his feet.
“Good luck this summer,” Marta said by way of goodbye, and retreated into the building, giving her roommates a casual salute as she passed them.
Judith popped the trunk and remained perfectly still, as though it might prevent her from being eaten alive.
“Shotgun!” Corona seated herself in the passenger seat and rested her arm flush with Judith’s on the middle console.
Her skin was warm, and she smelled like the expensive sunscreen that made your skin shimmer.
“You don’t have to say it if no one else wants to ride shotgun.” Ianthe pointed out unnecessarily as she climbed into the back seat.
Naberius buckled his seatbelt and sighed. “Why aren’t we taking my car?”
“It's too shiny,” Corona said. “It doesn’t fit with the camp aesthetic I’ve been envisioning.”
“You’re too considerate,” Ianthe said. “The children go outside; it's not like they haven't seen a BMW before.”
“Oh Jody,” Corona moved to grab her wrist. “Some of these kids, well it just breaks my heart. They grow up with so little, most of them don’t even have parents. The ones who do are sick or, from broken families. But hardship is excellent fuel for artistry, and I know that my dancers are going to crush the competition at the talent show this year.”
“The talent show isn’t competitive.” Naberius was now rolling down his window and fanning himself with his hand.
“Oh, that’s what they say, but there’s always a clear winner. It’s applause based,” said Corona. “Like bar karaoke.”
“That’s actually quite astute.” Ianthe mused.
“Well don’t act surprised,” Corona drew her hand to her chest. “If there’s one thing that I know, it’s attention. Oh, Jody, here,” She leaned forward to dig around in her backpack. The stretch caused her shirt to pull up, revealing a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on her lower back. Judith brought a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, but the image lingered.
Corona returned from her journey on the floor, curls whipping through the air, with a CD case that read “SUMMER MIX” in hot pink sharpie. It was covered in carefully doodled diamonds and hearts.
Judith slotted the cd into the player, having to first eject the resident CD and carefully place it in its case and back in the dashboard console. To do this she had to reach in front of Corona, who was not one to make herself smaller, and Judith’s shoulder brushed against her chest in the process. Much like everything else in her car, the console was broken, and she attempted to pull back and come at it with a forceful smack, but only managed to lose her balance and fall over Corona’s lap.
She grabbed Judith’s shoulders, her strength was always so pleasantly surprising, and righted her. “Oh, I’ve got you,” Corona smiled, and she really did smell so lovely, like coconut and vanilla and something woodsy.
Judith straightened up with Corona’s help, and the blonde girl winked once, before giving the console a good smack herself. It flung open immediately, allowing Judith to resume the CD exchange.
Naberius and Ianthe’s snickering continued until Corona managed to get the stereo going.
By the time they were pulling off the highway and into the camp parking lot, she had listened to Ianthe and Corona perform Promiscuous Girl (Ianthe did the Timberland parts) upwards of four times.
Judith realized that she had not needed to speak out loud once during the 4 hour journey but decided that since she and Corona had not get argued, it was a good thing. She did, however, wonder how long she might be able to keep it up.
...
By the time the sun began sinking lazily in the sky, and the light it cast on Camp New Rho had turned golden, the staff were called to gather as a group in front of the long dining hall. The short, many windowed, structure had a red shingled roof and was built of dark wooden planks. At mealtimes it functioned normally, but the rest of the time it doubled as a space for classes and activities that couldn’t be held outside. Most of the time the outdoors was preferred, and even Corona would elect to have the kids doing jazz on the long swimming docks, or contemporary styles in the shaded grass area near the campfire. When it rained, they’d push all the tables against the walls and play freeze tag or dodgeball – anything that would tire the kids out enough to ensure they weren’t buzzing into the night.
Three summers ago, it had rained for a week straight, and more than one of the staff ended up with a permanent headache for the duration of the storm.
On this sunny almost-evening, Aim’s staff sat facing them atop a picnic table in the shade, staggered in levels so they could all be seen. Sitting on the tabletop from left to right were Naberius, Harrow and Ianthe, then on the seat, Gideon, Palamedes and Corona. Camilla sat on the grass between Gideon and Palamedes legs, with her own extended out in front of her, crossed at the ankles.
Judith, who Aim had reintroduced themself to earlier, stood to the side. Noodle had come up to sniff her, and she began giving him head scratches to give herself something to do with her hands. She hadn’t been to camp since she was a girl and seemed to still be adjusting to the intensity of her coworker’s personalities.
“Oh, sit still,” Joli hushed them as she adjusted the lens of her digital camera. “Judith, squeeze in next to Camilla, tighter, come on, Corona doesn’t bite.”
“I beg to differ,” said Gideon brassily.
Ianthe and Naberius exploded in a fit of giggles. Corona reached over Palamedes to smack Gideon’s knee, Harrow audibly scowled, and Joli huffed in despair. “That was – what do you lot say again – too much information?”
“TMI,” Camilla said flatly, and even Harrow cracked a smile at that. Aim supposed that to them, nothing could be funnier than someone who was old.
The final image, by some miracle, showed every single one of them looking at least happy. Judith smiled nervously, Camilla’s mouth was twisted up, her arm resting on Palamedes’ knee, and Harrow’s dark eyes twinkled in the late afternoon sun.
Joli had taken Aim’s smile as approval and removed the camera before they were finished looking. They were so grown up, her kids. Every year more would start camp, more would graduate to junior counselors, more to full time staff, and more would leave and never come back.
“Okay, listen up,” Aim clapped their hands. “I don’t have to tell you lot that many of these kids don’t have parents waiting for them at home. For some of them, this is the closest thing they’ll have to a family. What we do here every summer is more than childcare, and it’s more than education. What we do here is support. These kids need your support, they need your guidance, and most importantly, they need to have fun.”
“Now, I will say this,” they continued. “I am trusting you to care for these kids because I know you can do it better than anyone else – because you were these kids. Now, go on and get all the shenanigans out of your system, the children arrive tomorrow morning at 10am sharp!” They turned, and then stopped themselves. “Oh, and mind the new junior counselors when they arrive tomorrow – some of them are only fourteen and they will need guidance. Don’t leave them alone with all the children at once, I am looking at you Coronabeth. Okay, okay, get lost!”
Aim and Joli watched as they scrambled off down the path toward the cabins. It was tradition for them to have a big sleepover the night before the children arrived and the real work began. They knew it would involve drinking, it always had, and it surely did when Joli and Aim had been counselors.
Watching them all laugh their way out of view, Aim felt unnervingly calm. They would all, undoubtably make mistakes this summer. They would say or do the wrong thing, hold the wrong hand, drink from the wrong bottle. But here, with her and Joli watching over them, they would be safe, and that’s all either of them had ever wanted, not just for the campers, but for all the kids that came to Camp New Rho. It was always, above all else, meant to be somewhere safe.
...
Gideon had settled down reluctantly on a log next to Harrow when Corona came into the light of the fire, a six pack of beer in one hand, and wine coolers in the other. Her denim shorts did not quite meet her cropped pink t-shirt, revealing a pink diamond studded belly button ring. “How many lesbians does it take to start a fire?”
“None, apparently,” Naberius said, gesturing to the duo stoking the flames.
Camilla and Palamedes, oblivious to his comment, crouched around the fire. She picked out a chopped log and handed it to him, and he nestled it carefully among the burning pieces of overlapping kindling he’d piled meticulously into a square. Gideon had been offering unsolicited advice to them the entire time (e.g., “blow on it”, “make it taller”), all of which they ignored.
“Or,” Naberius smirked. “Maybe two? I’m not sure what the situation is there.”
“How delightfully open minded of you,” Ianthe poked him hard enough in the shoulder that he had to rub the spot. “You’ve got a mosquito bite.”
“Nobody wants to hear my punchline?” Corona pouted.
Ianthe took the six pack of wine coolers from her hand and loosed one. “Was it something about beavers?”
“Never mind,” Corona took another cooler from the pack and cracked it open. She took a long sip and then her eyes lit up. “We’ve got to play a drinking game.” she said, raising her can. “What’s good, oh I know, two truths and lie!”
“We know each other too well,” Harrow complained. “We’ll be sober the whole night.”
There was something juvenescent about coming back to camp every summer, even if they were all returning as legal adults. No matter how much older they got, they found themselves slipping back into old routines, old roles.
“Oh,” Corona found a seat on one of the big logs that had been pulled close to the fire. “Never have I ever then, please? Oh, don’t roll your eyes Warden, we are only young once so loosen up.”
Palamedes, who now sat with his back against a log across the fire from Corona, raised his hands in surrender. After a moment of consideration, he said, “Never have I ever failed a class.”
Gideon scowled and raised the cup to her lips. “Rough start, man.”
Coronabeth stuck her tongue out at him, but it was obvious she was pleased as she raised her cup to drink.
They all turned to Camilla, who sat to his left. The two of them had their legs extended, her shins resting top of his. “Never have I ever shoplifted,” she said, without missing a beat.
Gideon, Harrow and Ianthe all raised their drinks, and Gideon wondered why on earth Ianthe would need to steal anything. Her parents were like, mega rich.
Her pondering was interrupted by a cacophony of expectant eyes on her.
“Oh, uh,” She paused. “Ah, never have I ever had a crush on my camp counselor.”
The group giggled as Palamedes drank from his cup. Camilla had done the same, but it was clear that the laughter was directed toward him.
“How is Dulcie?” Corona asked Palamedes, hand to her heart. “She was always my favourite.”
“Last we heard, she was in remission and married to a man named Eduardo,” he explained. “She moved to Italy a few years ago to teach English as a second language.”
“Do you remember that poem you wrote for her?” Naberius asked. “You rhymed turquoise with, shit, what was it?”
“School boys,” Camilla said, her face tight with concentration. She was, very obviously, trying with all her might not to laugh.
The rest of them erupted in a burst of laughter, and it did not dissipate until they were gasping for air, and Corona was chiding Harrow to continue the game.
“Never have I ever,” Harrow frowned, death grip on the can of beer in her hands. “Uh, I don’t…”
“Are you having a seizure?” Gideon asked.
“Shut up,” She snapped. “Never have I ever stolen a car.”
The group was silent since, unsurprisingly, none of them had stolen a car.
Ianthe said, “We’ve all still got time,” and shot Harrow a downright predatory look over the fire. Gideon felt a bit ill at the sight.
Judith, who Gideon had forgotten about on account of her being so damn quiet, just said “Pass.” And for whatever reason that was accepted.
Then it was finally Corona’s turn, the excitement obvious on her face. Her teeth sparkled in the firelight as she grinned, drumming her fingers on her chin. Finally, she spoke, “Never have I ever kissed a girl,” and she brought the can in her hand to her lips.
Gideon watched her finish off the rest of her drink and wipe the corner of her mouth with her thumb. It would not have been so scandalous, but for the fact that she had done the whole thing while looking at Judith, who sat a few feet away from her on the grass.
Corona seemed very pleased with herself, and Judith held her gaze as long as it remained.
Gideon was beyond pleased to have front row seats to this show.
Then, since they were still playing a game, everyone drank. this included, Gideon bristled, Harrow.
“Who?” Gideon demanded. “Was it Sarah from your work, because you should know that she does hand stuff for cigarettes.”
“It was not Sarah from my work, and the cigarette was unrelated to the hand stuff.” She snapped. “Also – mind your business, Nav.”
“You’re supposed to say something you haven’t done,” Ianthe complained, ignoring their spat.
“Oops,” Corona smiled. “You know I’m a lightweight.”
Ianthe rolled her eyes and said, with a smirk, “Never have I ever crashed my parent’s car.”
“That was targeted,” Naberius said to her immediately, “It’s not fair when you make them targeted.”
“Oh, boo.” Ianthe said. “We should make you drink twice for complaining.”
Despite Naberius’s complaints, the never-have-I-ever's only became more and more targeted after that.
Camilla had left somewhere around “Never have I ever given a hand job in the backseat of a Toyota Camry while my sister was outside trying to jumpstart it,” quietly enough that nobody noticed. Palamedes’ exit shortly after was met with a chorus of boos but was ultimately accepted.
He found her at the edge of the smaller of the two docks that ran along the lake. This one was too small to take a large group of kids swimming and was a notorious spot for giggling pairs of tweens to sneak off to and get up to God knows what.
Her grey sweater was hanging on the post beside her, and she was wearing her one piece bathing suit, cut low in the back and high at the front, under her denim shorts. Her legs were hanging off the edge of the dock, kicking absentmindedly. Her toes brushed the surface of the water, and moonlight reflected off the tiny ripples they left behind.
“Going for a swim?” He asked, settling down at her side.
“No, but you go ahead,” she gestured to the water. “I’ll watch for sharks.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“It was the best day of my life, Warden,” she said, mouth pulling up at the corner. “You’d really ask me to forget it?”
“I’m glad one of us was having a good time.”
“You got tickled by a trout.”
“It was a very big fish, Cam,” he said. “A sturgeon probably. It almost knocked me over.”
“You weighed a hundred pounds at the time so it wouldn't have been an impressive feat. I’ve never seen someone run faster in waist deep water. Your mother should've put you in track and field.”
“She prefers to see me succeed at things.”
Camilla smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. They looked out over the midnight blue water that extended before them, interrupted by a small island that was mostly marsh and a few toppled trees. Two tall pines remained partially upright, leaning on one another, suspending their impending falls.
A chorus of laughter sounded from the hill above them, echoing across the water.
“You didn’t want to stick around for spin the bottle?” She asked.
“You’re joking, but I think that’s where it was headed.” He brought his arm up to rest on her shoulder. He wanted to say I missed you, but he found himself unable to vocalise it. Instead, he turned his head and buried his face in her hair.
He didn’t know where to place that feeling. The emptiness that he felt when she wasn’t next to him. After two years of sharing a dorm room, and two more of sharing an apartment, he found it terribly hard to fall asleep without her near. He resorted to drinking her in to keep himself full in the meantime.
She turned so her forehead rested against his shoulder. “What have you got in your pockets?”
He began fishing around the pockets of his denim cargo shorts. He produced a ballpoint pen, half a joint, and three quarters.
She took the items from his hand, placing them on the dock behind them. She then brought her hands to his face and removed his glasses, folding and placing them next to the contents of his pockets.
Her dark eyes reflected the tiniest glimmer of moonlight, her face giving absolutely nothing away. She brought her hand to his lower back and moved it up slowly, until it rested on his shoulder.
“What are you –”
She pushed him into the lake.
He surfaced with an audible gasp for air. Before he could say anything, she landed in the water beside him, splashing hard enough that he had to wipe the water from his eyes again.
She sprung from the water next to him and tossed her hair back and out of her face.
“Can you believe this is our last summer?” he asked, resting his hand on the post of the dock. He was still catching his breath from being submerged, the pounding of his heart just beginning to slow down.
Next year he’d be a second-year medical student, and she’d be finishing her masters. Both would have school related summer obligations, and neither of them would be able to return as camp counselors.
Camilla shook her head as the tide pushed her closer to him. She braced a hand on his shoulder, another on the post behind him. “Sorry,” she said.
Water droplets glittered on her face, her mouth, the tips of her eyelashes. A long strand of hair had come unslicked, falling over her brow and into her face.
“It’s okay,” he said, tucking the strand behind her ear. He let his hand linger there, stroking his thumb against her cheek.
She closed her eyes, her head leaning into his touch, and free from her gaze he allowed himself to wonder what it might be like to kiss her. If her lips would feel as soft as they looked, if she still tasted like sunscreen like she had when they were twelve, or cherry chapstick when they were seventeen.
His thumb stilled, and her eyes shot open at the sound of several pairs of feet stampeding down the dock. Before either of them could fully register what was happening, four more bodies hit the water, causing a splash big enough to toss them around even after they all surfaced.
The silence was permanently broken now, the crickets giving way to the sounds of splashing and laughing, of teasing and dunking and spitting water. Gideon howled wetly into the abyss, Corona yanked Judith into the lake by her shirtsleeve, and Harrow shot daggers at her when she attempted the same again. Harrow lit a cigarette and passed it to Ianthe who had ceased dunking Naberius under the water in favor of hauling herself up on the edge of the dock next to her.
Camilla rested her head on his shoulder again, and he saw her smiling out of the corner of his eye. He considered that this might not be the end, not yet, but rather the beginning. It was the beginning of summer, and they had eight long weeks to make it count.