• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fandom Qᴜᴀʀʀʏ ᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴡɴ, 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧. [IC]

MOOD: gay panic meets goth girl defense

WRITERS: hotsauce hotsauce + sunny!

LOCATION: The Village
basics
MENTIONS: N/A


INT: Miriam and Leilani
tags
TL;DRMiriam and Leilani "recognize" each other from high school. Miriam thinks Lani is scared of her, when in reality Lani is doing Lani things and panicking over a pretty woman.
tl;dr
MIRIAM X LEILANI
better run for the hills, run for the hills, run

Leilani breathed out as she had waved the last of the campers out of the lodge. Arts and Crafts went off without a hitch or hiccup, aside from maybe the occasional camper getting a new paint stain on their skin or clothes. As soon as the campers were out of ear shot, she walked over to the radio and turned down the music; there was only so much uplifting, bubble-gum pop music that Lani could take at one time. Especially with the current state of affairs that the counselors found themselves in. And especially Lani.

Her hands rested on her hips as she surveyed the room. She had no idea how she did it, but the large majority of her campers never seemed to have a problem not making a mess. There’s always a bit of accident when it comes to painting, but Leilani never had too much trouble cleaning up after everyone. As she looked around the room, she looked at everyone’s painted rocks, drying in the sun. There was so much personality in each and every one of them, there was a small part of her heart that swelled with pride. Seeing such young people, just like she was once, being able to tap into the creative part of their minds, and funnel it into something they could physically make.

Glancing at the watch on her wrist, Lani knew she should hurry and clean her area. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, but she wanted to take some time and walk the camp grounds. With all the turmoil sturred in her relating to Renee’s disappearance as well as the disappearances of two other counselors, she needed to ground herself, or clear her head, or hell just distract herself with something. The longer she thought about Renee, the more her heart tightened and her stomach tied in knots. The secrecy of their relationship was eating her alive, she knew how her friends thought of Renee, how much of a bully she was to all of her friends. And yet she couldn’t help but have felt love towards Renee. Sure Renee was a bully to her too in the beginning, but the more they spoke, the more time they spent together, the more Leilani realized that Renee was just misunderstood. Renee didn’t know how to handle her emotions, she didn’t know how to express her thoughts and feelings. But Leilani felt she came to understand her. To her, Renee was a beautiful masterpiece, full of complexities beyond the naked eye. It truly took experienced eyes, someone with a head and heart for acquired tastes, someone who knew the history and context behind the painting, to truly appreciate it.

And though her heart screamed, she couldn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she had to keep to herself, for the sake of her friendships, and for the sake of herself. If word spread enough, it would get back to her father, and that was truly Leilani’s biggest fear. Her father’s intolerance mixed with his temper spelled nothing but danger for the artist.

So she chose to suffer in silence. And if she was going to do that, she needed to take a walk around the damn camp ground from time to time.

Leilani shook herself out of the spiral she was falling down. After turning to her radio and pushing a few buttons, some more refreshing music started filling the room. It was different than the pop she had earlier, more heavy in a sense, but somehow still refreshing for Lani.

She made quick work of cleaning up everything, emptying out the cups of paint water into the dirt outside, ensuring all the paint brushes were clean, and throwing away all the used cups and plates. Carefully, she made sure to line up all the freshly painted rocks outside the lodge on a large stump. It was a stump that got good sunlight most of the day, and she knew from past years that the rocks always dried and set beautifully after a day on the stump.

Once the Arts & Craft room was back in order, Lani wanted to get some fresh air. She checked that everything was in her bag: pocketbook, spare candy bars, a few pencils, a stray marker, and the random tape she found earlier. After turning off the radio on the shelf, she made her way out of the lodge and began following the beaten path.

Miriam sighed with relief once all of the kids had run off to their next activity or free time, whatever the case may be. She hardly cared, so long as she knew that she was done–and to a lesser extent, that the kids were away from the mystery of the woods, a mystery she longed to explore, but not just yet. Right now, she needed a quick rest before she embarked on her little sleuthing journey across the camp, determined that she could find some sort of evidence that would let her know the truth behind the disappearances. Between her affinity with the beyond and her keen observational senses, Miriam was more than certain that she would find something. Or at least, that was what she told herself. If she were to help these people, it would be embarrassing for her to fail in such a boring and mundane way. If there was anything to be found, Miriam would find it.

With that thought, she walked back in the direction of the cabins. She was already tired from having to interact with several unruly children–already one of her least favorite activities–and she figured a brief respite would do her good. As she traipsed through the campgrounds, she again wished that she had thought to bring more comfortable footwear; as cute and alternative as her boots were, they were not the most comfortable option she could have chosen. But sneakers were ugly and didn’t match her aesthetic–even black ones made her look (shudder) athletic. Not to mention the way that she had to pick up her long, flowy black skirt a few times when the terrain got more muddy or dirty. Clearly a long skirt was not the best choice for her first day, either. But who cared? They said beauty was pain, after all, so Miriam must look gorgeous.

As she was deep in thought, she realized that she was nearing the Village again, smiling softly with a bit of relief that she could rest her feet for a little while before she set off to examine the campground and familiarize herself with the territory. But as she neared the little cabins, all neatly tucked away like something out of a movie, she noticed a familiar figure nearing the area as well. Miriam had known that it was entirely possible for her to come across someone she knew from high school or just around the town here, considering that she and Nic both lived so close to the campsite itself, but she had been hoping that she wouldn’t meet anyone she knew. Yet here was someone who already struck a chord of recognition in Miriam, which made her frown slightly. This girl had gone to her high school, hadn’t she? She was a little younger than Miriam, if she remembered correctly, just a girl she’d thought was pretty, albeit probably not someone who liked the black and blue-haired mystic, considering the amount of times Miriam had caught her staring after her goth makeover. Great. The last thing she needed right now was someone who already hated her; she was plenty capable of making enemies without the lingering high school tension.

But if this girl was around back before the disappearances of the Evergreen sisters, it would be helpful to get a rapport going. She highly doubted that she’d get a response about the missing girls from someone who only knew as a newcomer, and probably a witch or demon worshipper at that, if the rumors that had reached Miriam herself were anything to go by. Might as well start off on the right foot. She was going to rest after this anyway, so what was one more awkward social interaction?

“Hey,” she called as she got closer, giving a half-hearted wave. “Is this your first year as a counselor here too?”

Leilani’s head as involuntarily torn from watching the ground as she walked to someone calling out to her a few feet in front. It took a few paces before her feet stopped and she took in who was speaking to her. Someone familiar, someone with a striking enough look that Lani would never forget. It was a girl who went to her high school when Lani first moved from Hawaii. There was a small smile on her lips as she realized her gothic look hadn’t changed from the last time she remembered. She never remembered ever actually speaking to this girl, but she always kicked herself looking back. But now here she was, actually talking to her?

“Hi!” Her greeting came out a bit too perky to be even remotely believable, but Lani tried to continue on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Oh no, this is actually my third year being a counselor, and eleventh year at camp total! Not that you asked that last part…” Lani’s voice became increasingly quieter towards the end of her statement. Why was she nervous to speak to this girl? She wasn’t intimidated, and even if she was, Lani was normally great at speaking to new people! Was it because this was someone she knew in high school? And who knew the kind of rumors that had been spreading around about her in high school? Get it together Lani, she probably doesn’t even remember you, just chill the eff out. “But it’s your first year! How exciting! Are you enjoying it here so far?” The nervousness was almost as noticeable as stink-lines coming off a pile of garbage; her tell? Lani’s hands would not stop jittering; fidgeting with her watch, wringing her hands together, picking at the dried paint on her shorts, her nerves were running the show, but Lani still did her best to be “normal”.

Miriam raised an eyebrow at the other woman’s display, hand on her lips as she tried to parse out what was happening. She was certainly friendly enough; she seemed quite personable, in fact, but her obvious nervousness made me Miriam bite back a sigh. Not another person who had doubtless fed into the rumors about her being crazy. And here she was starting to think this summer camp might not be so bad after all. Why else would this girl be nervous? Miriam started to narrow her eyes before catching herself. Even if she’s freaked out by you, no need to be a bitch. Besides, you want to be friends if you’re going to get any information out of her, don’t you? And that was that. She could be nice…when she wanted to. And there was a part of her that felt almost guilty that her mere presence freaked this girl out so much. She tried not to care what others thought about her, but she didn’t like when people were afraid of her, for god’s sake.

“Exciting, yeah,” she echoed half-heartedly, wondering distantly if she would get in trouble if she smoked in front of the kids. Luckily, she didn’t have any cigarettes on her at the moment since her dress lacked pockets, but that was probably for the best anyway. She really needed to kick the habit. “You’re basically a camp veteran then, huh? Well, isn’t that something.” She thought for a moment, considering. “It’s been fine so far. I’ve never actually been to a summer camp before, so it’s definitely new.” That much was obvious, given how little her outfit suited this particular venture. But she refrained from adding snarky comments about her appearance to the conversation. She rather liked her style, so it didn’t really matter. She was going to wear her makeup and goth clothing every day if she could help it, practicality be damned. “I’m guessing you like it a lot here, if you’ve been coming back for so long.”

Lani felt the smile on her face grow, “Oh, yeah I guess you could call me a veteran,” the more she talked about the good things at camp, the more the nervousness calmed in her voice “This place became a second home to me when we moved here from Hawaii. School was kinda sucking and it was nice to reconnect with nature out here,” her hands still fidgeted, but not nearly as much as in the beginning of their interaction. This familiar counselor continued talking as if she didn’t know her, so maybe Lani was in the clear after all, “And then I made pretty good friends with people here, I honestly think I became closer with my camp friends than anyone at school. Mr. Evergreen’s been doing a great job running the camp,” she tried to continue highlighting the good parts of camp. If anyone were to ask, she would say it was to steer suspicion away from the disappearances, but honestly it was her own way of clearing her head and calming her nerves. If she thought about good things, then everything would be okay.

Well, for a camp that had two disappearances, this girl sure seemed to think highly of it. That spoke for something, and did make a small spark of suspicion find its way into Miriam’s chest. The other counselor was sure talking up the camp, almost like she was dependent on it for something. Though despite the thread of distrust that Miriam innately had for the nervous woman, she couldn’t help but feel in her gut that whatever had happened, it wasn’t her fault. But Miriam was sure this girl knew something. And she was sure she knew this girl.

“Speaking of school, did you go to Fairview High?” Miriam asked, examining her nails as she did so. The black paint was a bit chipped on her left pinky, annoyingly, but otherwise the color remained intact. She glanced up after a moment, wondering if she needed to add some sort of explanation for her question in case she was mistaken. Though she doubted that she was. “You look like someone who went there a few years ago.” She shrugged. Someone who definitely thought I was crazy, she added mentally, though the girl’s nerves had seemed to calm down the more she talked about camp. Maybe avoiding the topic of Miriam helped. She held back a snort at that. Of course it did. What nice, normal person would want to be associated with the local crazy goth girl?

[color=#83aabe[i]Shit. [/i][/color]Leilani did her very best to hang on to the smallest bits of calm she had found in the false reality of this counselor not remembering her. She took in a shaky breath before responding, “Yeah, I did! I’m guessing you did too?” Yep, play dumb, the thing you do best.

Interactions like this truly made Lani despise herself, and the facade she kept up for everyone around her. The constant fear of her true self being exposed wore away at her every day. Most days it was easy, being able to simply play the part she had so carefully constructed and rehearsed for years on end. Then there were a few days here and there where a wrench was thrown into her performance, an attempt to throw her off her balance; and truth be told it often worked, whether there was intention behind it or not. It had always been hard for Lani to keep her cool in high-stress situations, which never paired well with her anxiety telling her that the most mundane interactions were indeed high-stress.

Another deep breath filled her lungs and rushed out through her nose. If you can just keep it together, stop acting like an idiot, then it’ll be fine.

Yeah, this girl definitely thought Miriam was crazy. She got all cagey and uncomfortable the moment the topic of high school was broached. Not that Miriam blamed her for it; she has hated high school herself and didn’t enjoy discussing it either. She just had to be sure that she wasn’t actually going crazy when she had recognized the other counselor.

“Yeah, you got me,” she smirked. “I went there, too. High school was such a shit show.” She laughed. “Oh, my name’s Miriam by the way.” In case she only remembers me as “witch girl” or something. Though that hopefully wasn’t the case.

Miriam, that’s pretty, Lani thought to herself before she realized she should probably introduce herself as well, “It’s very nice to officially meet you, Miriam! I don’t remember if you were in my class or not, but I’m Leilani,” her smile was genuine, almost wanting to reach out her hand for a handshake, before realizing that would be really weird of her to initiate. Instead, she shoved her hands into the shallow pockets of her shorts. Her fingers ran into something hard and cool, smooth on one side and rough on the other. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw it was a painted rock; one with a light blue background and a black smiley face, it was one she had made when ensuring the paints were mixed well enough. Lani’s genuine smile morphed into a more giddy grin as she held the rock in the middle of her palm, extending her hand out to Miriam, “You want a painted rock? I made it before the hoard of campers came to Arts & Crafts,”

Miriam blinked, surprised at the gesture. A gift? Instantly she was suspicious. Was this some sort of prank? But Leilani’s beatific grin suggested otherwise. Either this woman was a really good actor, or she was genuine. And as much as Miriam didn’t trust anyone besides Nic at this camp, she wanted this interaction to be genuinely positive, so she could at least accept the rock since nothing about it lept out at her for being an immediate red flag. She gingerly took the rock from Leilani, her fingers brushing the other counselor’s palm briefly as she did so. She tried not to think about the contact, holding the rock in her hand since she didn’t have any pockets to drop it into.

“Thanks, Leilani,” she responded, repeating her name to ensure she remembered it. It sounded familiar, but she knew they hadn’t shared any classes, or at least not that Miriam remembered. Something told her that she would recall interacting with Leilani. “So is that your job this year, then? Arts and crafts?” She could easily picture this sunshiney girl leading the children in an artsy activity like painting rocks, shepherding them like an older sister. She clearly enjoyed her job. So she probably wouldn’t appreciate Miriam poking around about the sisters. Maybe that could happen later, then; as much as she would not have admitted it, she was actually not minding the conversation just chatting with Leilani.

“Yeah!,” Leilani did everything she could to keep her mind off the small tingle that surged through her body at the slight graze of Miriam’s fingers on her palm. Attempting to bring her arm back to her side at a very normal pace, she tried to focus on talking. The conversation was turning towards art, definitely something Leilani could talk about, “It’s the only job I’ve had at this camp. Being a bit of a self-proclaimed artist, I really enjoy helping little ones find their creative spirit,” Her smile had previously faltered when Miriam plucked the rock out of her hand, but it quickly went back to genuine, “That sounds like I’m really stuck up and stuffy, I’m not a real artist by any means,” Lani quickly tried to recover the fumble or misstep of words she had imagined, “I’ve just always enjoyed drawing and painting and any venue of art, really,”

Miriam scoffed, glancing from the rock she was holding to Leilani. “‘Real artist’ is anyone who makes art that they put their heart into,” she responded emphatically before looking away, slightly embarrassed by the outburst. She was quite passionate about art herself, though she’d never admit it. And it was much easier telling someone else they were an artist instead of saying that she was one when she hardly felt her own shitty paintings warranted the title for her. “Anyway, I don’t think you’re stuck up or anything, so don’t worry about that. It’s good that you get to do what you love.” And she meant it. Part of her was jealous that Leilani had so clearly found her passion, though she admittedly quite enjoyed her job of being a hairstylist as well. She just wasn’t as sure that the nature counselor job suited her as well as art clearly suited her companion.

“And the rock is cute.” She gave the other woman a small smile, being genuine in her compliments. She really shouldn’t get too close to anyone here for fear it would impede her investigation, but she supposed having a friend here would be helpful. Besides, it felt nice when Leilani’s nerves eased. Maybe she wasn’t hated after all.

A new kind of smile danced on Leilani’s lips as a subtle tint rose to her cheeks and her eyes sheepishly “checked her watch”. Lani would be dumbfounded to explain why she had that response to a simple compliment over a small rock, but she chalked it up to her emotions being haywire anyways and cleared her throat to speak. “Well, thank you, it’s not my best work but I wouldn’t call it my worst either,” Somehow emboldened, Lani’s eyes looked back up to Miriam’s simply admiring how her dark makeup, however intense, seemed to only enhance the beauty she knew Miriam had. “So where are you headed now? Maybe I could walk with you to make sure you don’t get lost? Not that I think you’d be easily lost, I just figured maybe you’d want some company? But it’s okay if you don’t too! I won’t be offended!”

… Way to keep it cool, Leilani….

Miriam blinked again, surprised at how quickly Leilani could go from nervous to bubbly to nervous again, though admittedly she seemed like a very bubbly person in general. Maybe she was still freaked out by Miriam; she was certainly staring at the goth girl’s makeup hard enough that Miriam could sense she was being judged. Every time she thought someone was being friendly, they looked a little too hard at her lip ring or excessive use of dark eyeshadow and decided she was weird or creepy. She suddenly felt even more tired. Leilani was so sweet; Miriam really didn’t want to deal with the sort of too-friendliness from trying to hide one’s nerves. As genuine as her fellow counselor seemed, something about Miriam clearly made her anxious. It hardly took a genius to put two and two together to see what it was.

“I appreciate the offer, but I was just going to take a short nap in my cabin.” She punctuated this with a small yawn. “Though if you’re dying to show me around, I guess I do need to know where things are at some point.”

“Oh! Well it certainly doesn’t have to be right now… I wouldn’t want to keep you from your beauty sleep! Not that you need beauty sleep, because you’re incredibly pretty. Shoot, I didn’t mean that to be weird, sorry, I’ll let you get to your nap.” by the end of yet ANOTHER outburst, Lani was clenching her teeth together in a desperate attempt to shut herself up. It was truly a blessing that she had such an absent homophobic father. If he ever paid any attention to her interactions with pretty girls, he’d have her figured out an in instant.

“It was nice officially meeting you, Miri,” Leilani said to Miriam as she began to turn on her heel.

Miriam was seriously having trouble figuring this girl out. On one hand, it seemed like Leilani liked her enough, but her nervousness made Miriam seriously start to doubt that. Even if she seemed genuinely nice, Miriam wasn’t used to clicking with such bubbly personalities so quickly. In her experience, more friendly and extroverted people seemed to either avoid her or get weird around her, probably due to her reputation preceding her around these parts. But at the compliments, she was thoroughly confused.Does she actually think I’m pretty or was that just her being scared to offend me? Does she think I’d curse her if she says something that could be perceived as mean? Or, more likely, she was a people pleaser. Miriam had certainly met a few of those before, and so far the art counselor seemed to fit the bill.

At the use of the nickname, though, Miriam couldn’t help the warmth on her cheeks. No one called her that except maybe Nic or Miriam’s mom. It felt oddly intimate; a fitting end to a similarly confusing interaction. But…pleasantly confusing? Was that even a thing?

“Um, thanks?” she responded, raising an eyebrow. As Leilani turned to leave, she added, “Yeah, nice meeting you too. See you around, Leilani.”


code by valen t.
 






miriam berry




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)


































sleater kinney



dig me out









After the strange interaction with her coworker, Miriam headed toward her cabin, glancing back at Leilani as the other woman walked off. She smiled to herself, cheeks still warm at the familiarity with which she had been addressed. At the very least, she was hopefully getting Leilani to warm up to her after being freaked out by her mere presence. It was a weird thought, but maybe actually talking to the other counselors could get some of her former peers to change their minds about her, well, less than stellar reputation around town. She’d already spoken to some of the campers, who seemed to understand her better now, and Leilani was friendly, if a bit nervous around the local weird goth girl.

She was buoyed by a light sense of hope as she headed in the direction of her cabin, nearly running into a tree as she glanced back one more time at Leilani. She stopped just shy of hitting her head on a low-hanging branch, embarrassed at how close she had come to making a fool out of herself. Not to mention how annoying it would be to redo the foundation that would have come off in the process. She huffed, frowning, before noticing something lighter-colored at the base of the tree. What is this? she asked herself, peering down for a closer look. It seemed to be a wallet. God, not even two full days of camp and someone had lost their wallet already. But she was a curious person by nature, and it wouldn’t hurt for her to see whose wallet it was so she could return it later.

As she opened the lavender wallet, complete with little white daisies–Was this a twelve-year-old’s wallet?--she noticed the license first. As she plucked it free of its case, she studied the picture, a photo she had seen numerous times in her research of this case, a photo that had been on the news last year. It appeared the owner of the wallet was none other than Renee Evergreen. Her leaving it behind suggested that she either hadn’t left camp of her own volition or had intended to run away off the radar, but the cash left inside didn’t make as much sense if one subscribed to the second theory. A piece of the huge, murky puzzle that was the disappearances began to slot into place. Miriam bit her lip, glancing around to make sure no one had seen her before hurrying off to her cabin and settling into her bunk, reopening the wallet to study its contents more closely.

The information on the wallet lined up with everything she knew about Renee Evergreen, and it seemed legit, so Miriam was starting to be more certain her theory that Renee had not left of her own volition. She pocketed the cash–it wasn’t like a dead girl needed money–and examined the credit cards. Unsurprising that one was in her father’s name, given how notoriously rich the Evergreens were. But there was something she hadn’t initially seen, tucked behind the cash that Miriam had snatched up. She pulled a polaroid out of the wallet, immediately noting the familiar face of the woman she’d just spoken to. Leilani, you seemed awfully close with Renee, she thought, a small smirk playing on her lips. She supposed she really would have to nurture her budding friendship with this girl; Leilani might know more than Miriam would have guessed. It seemed her new friend was entangled with the mystery, and Miriam was determined to get to the bottom of it. She would be spending more time with Leilani in the future–for the purposes of the mystery, of course. Not like she was eager to spend more time with the art counselor for any other reason besides learning more about the missing girls and getting the young woman to drop her preconceived notions of Miriam’s devilishness. She wasn’t shallow enough to want to spend time together because the girl was pretty, for god’s sake.

And with that discovery made, Miriam hid the wallet amidst her belongings and went to sleep. When she woke up, she was going to continue her search of the camp. If that wallet was just laying there near a tree, surely more evidence could be found. There was something more at play here than two girls getting lost in the woods, and Miriam was determined to find out what.






♡coded by uxie♡
 
MOOD: clarisse (nervous, but content) billie (excited to make a friend!)

OUTFIT: n/a

LOCATION: dining hall -> farmyard
basics
MENTIONS:
clarisse ( AI10100 AI10100 )

INT:
...
tags
TL;DR they chased chickens, vaguely talked about the evergreens—simple camp stuff. (trust me)
tl;dr
chasing chickens
clarisse lowell & billie lennon
The information was a lot to take in, too much to take in really. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who thought so as Levi stormed out of the dining hall first. Couldn’t blame him at all, Leon’s complete change of topic was uncalled for.

Clarisse needed to go for a walk or just do something, anything, to take her mind off of the state it was in. Unlike the previous year, she couldn’t just disappear into nothingness to grind out her assignments and readings for the next month or so just to feel something. No, she was stuck in the camp for two weeks with reminders of the missing people everywhere she went. Something sick entered her mind as she surveyed the others. A couple of the counselors loved Lisa, Clarisse knew that, and seeing their sadness with the news filled a part of Clarisse that she tried to bury with some sick satisfaction.

That’s how it feels. Can you see it now?

The moment the thought entered her brain, Clarisse had to turn around and head out of the dining hall, her mug of coffee still in hand. Maybe she could return later to grab a snack for a bite to eat or something. She just had to be any place but there. The thought itself brought her a great amount of shame. As if Rowan and Connie hadn’t already been through enough with Paige gone. Don’t think like that. You’re starting to sound like- She took a deep breath as she exited the dining hall, the calm breeze giving her some reprieve for her thoughts to slow down.

She needed to look for something to do, but barging into Arts & Crafts for the sole reason of trying to busy herself wasn’t going to be a good look. Clarisse wouldn’t even know how to help even if she did. Maybe she could bother Ricky again, or talk to Liberty, or catch up with Lou… or maybe she could look around for Joey. But how could she even face the girl considering how close she was to Lisa too? She was running out of options faster than she could make them up and it was a sobering reality to know that she couldn’t run to Renee nowadays to deal with this.

Billie sat anxiously in the dining hall beside Vivienne, her eyes darting between the campers filing out and the scattered counselors lingering around the room. Leon’s speech had done little to calm the crowd—in fact, it had only heightened the rising panic, which was understandable given the circumstances. The mention of playing truth or dare had been the final straw for a few people, making the room feel so much smaller.

He means well, she thought, a frown deepening on her face as she caught sight of Leon’s obvious distress. A door slammed behind her, punctuated by a laugh echoing through the hall. Irritated, she spun around and zeroed in on the individual who’d had the nerve to laugh before slipping outside. What an asshole.

One person in particular caught Billie’s eye—a girl huddled in the far corner, clutching a drink and looking as though she’d seen far better days. Curiosity piqued, and true to her nature, Billie flashed Vivienne a small smile, gave a quick wave, and offered a quiet, “See you later, promise.” She’d catch up with Leon some other time.

With a quick step through the door, the crisp morning air hit her face, a chilly reminder of the fading warmth inside. She scanned the outside area and spotted the girl, still alone, seeming even more withdrawn in the bright light.

“Hey, um. Are you—” Okay? Seriously? Billie held back the question, scolding herself for nearly blurting out something that sounded careless because of course she wasn’t. Instead, she slid up beside the girl, offering a small, soft smile she hoped wasn’t too intrusive, aiming for some semblance of comfort. I can literally feel how tense she is. Jesus.

“You look like you could use a distraction,” she offered gently, doing her best not to overwhelm—she knew she could be a lot, sometimes even too much. “You’re a counselor, right? The name’s Billie.” She extended a hand between them, trying to ease herself into the conversation naturally. “The new…um…the new farmer, actually.” Nice one, Billie, real smooth. A frown broke out from her thoughts, nervously drawing her hand away before shifting her weight to rest against the nearest wall. “I’m really sorry about Lisa.” she added quietly, her eyes reflecting empathy. Is it too late to awkwardly walk away and save us both the embarrassment?

Clarisse flinched at the sudden intrusion, not expecting that someone would approach her so suddenly, so soon even. Though she was even more surprised that she hadn’t noticed it. Was she letting her guard down nowadays? It was far too late to fix her composure but she attempted to anyway. She listened, patiently, until Billie seemed to finally pause for long enough that Clarisse took that as her turn to speak.

“Billie.” She started, committing it to memory. It was a familiar name but she powered through to answer the next ones. She reached out to shake her hand. “Yeah, I’m Clarisse. Pleasure.” She wished she could say it with more enthusiasm. It was always nice to get new counselors, they usually brought something fresh to the table. Though, typically, they’d be easy pickings. She thought idly.

"Clarisse." That’s such a pretty name. "That’s such an awesome name." It wasn’t one that was common where Billie was from, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to how unique it sounded—at least to her. Their handshake was brief, but she gave a slight, friendly squeeze before pulling away. Clarisse seemed pretty normal; maybe she wouldn’t be the worst person to talk to around here after what happened in the Dining Hall.

Awkwardly, Clarisse began rubbing the back of her neck. “Thanks, er, I’m… Lisa was a good co-worker.” She felt worse about the idea that another person had disappeared rather than Lisa, specifically, being the one to do so. She shook her head. “Still, welcome to Camp Evergreen. It’s not usually, you know, all bad news.” Recently, it feels like it has been all that.

Billie immediately picked up on the tension, thoughtfully stepping back to give her a bit of space. "So I’ve heard. Jonathan Evergreen—um, actually walked me in this morning. He didn’t…look all there, I won’t lie." She hesitated, hoping it would get better—for him and for the camp.

She looked at Billie oddly for a moment before shaking her head. “Yeah, Mr. Evergreen hasn’t been the same since…” She knew that she couldn’t judge him on that. None of them had been the same since the disappearance— it was easy to see when you knew what to look for.

Not wanting to dwell on the topic, Clarisse continued. “Timely appearance, really. I know what Ramona’s duties are but, er, I assume you’ll be taking over Lisa’s ‘cause… yeah.” This was going terribly, what a first impression to be had. She shook her head and gestured towards the farmyard. “You wanna go see where you’ll be spending most of your time in, then?” She really hoped Billie would agree, it would be a far better topic than Lisa’s untimely disappearance and the possibility of her being dead.

Her eyes followed where Clarisse gestured, brightening slightly at the sight of the farmyard Leon had pointed out to her earlier. “Oh my god—yes, please! You have no idea how excited I am to see the chickens.” Billie spun on her heel, heading down the steps, sneaking glances from time to time to make sure Clarisse was following. She tried to keep the mood light and not too overwhelming, aware that she could sometimes come on a bit strong. But from where Billie stood, she wondered if maybe Clarisse needed a distraction more than she did. “Sooo, what’s your role this summer?”

Clarisse chuckled and gestured for her to follow, then began walking. She slipped one hand into her pocket and sipped her rapidly cooling coffee. “I’m sure they’d be happy to see a new face too.” She commented with a hum. “Macaroni too. We should probably get you introduced to him.” That dog was one of the things she missed in the camp. She wondered how big he had gotten since she last stepped foot there.

“Oh, I was the sub Leon mentioned earlier.” She responded kindly, looking off to the side for a moment and whistled to catch the attention of a couple of campers. Once they saw that they had been caught, they scampered off towards their next activity. “Anyway, yes, I’m one of the substitutes this summer. So, you might see more of me around to help on your activities if you need it.”

“Oh, a dog? No freaking way!” Billie exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she hurried after Clarisse’s beckoning gesture. She stuck close, her eyes darting eagerly around the camp, searching for any sign of a dog. “Macaroni is such an adorable name. I can’t wait to meet them.” Her voice was light with anticipation, a grin spreading across her face.

Clarisse nodded along in agreement. “The others named ‘em and it’s fitting I think.” She wasn’t exactly sure how they had found the dog and brought it back to camp. It was just their luck that a stray had some herding ability and was allowed to stay around and help instead of being brought to a shelter or adopted out by another counselor. “You should ask your fellow farming counselors about Macaroni. It will be a good conversation starter.”

A sharp whistle from Clarisse snapped her out of her thoughts. Her gaze shifted to the scattering kids, their laughter and hurried footsteps filling the air. “A substitute? That’s pretty neat,” she commented, her eyes flicking back to Clarisse as she matched her brisk pace.

“I have no idea how tough farming is going to be,” She admitted, her tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “But I’m excited! And I wouldn’t mind having an extra pair of hands around here. Supervisor though…feels like a job like that could be either super overwhelming or just—” She made a nonchalant gesture with her hand, it basically read: eh. “Boring. Sorry.”

She tried to mask her surprise at hearing that Billie had no experience with farming. Well, she likely was someone who had to be taken in when Lisa couldn’t make it. The idea that Mr. Jonathan had to do such drastic measures just to make sure the camp could go on despite the disappearance made Clarisse feel uncomfortable but she tried to keep her focus on Billie, not wanting to sour the excitement she clearly possessed.

“Farming is tiring, I think. Not all that tough if you know what to do, but definitely tedious.” The memories of having to do the activities when she was younger flooded into her mind then to watching Ramona and Lisa whenever she passed by as they went about their duties. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

The switch of the conversation to supervisor made Clarisse cock her head to the side. “No need to be sorry, you’re right. It does sound boring as hell.” Renee had been the supervisor before but even she wasn’t going to deny that Leon did most, if not all, the legwork during that time. Renee found it boring to run around and, well, supervise and Clarisse couldn’t blame her. It didn’t sound all that appealing. “Right now, I imagine it’s more overwhelming than boring. I don’t blame him about the whole news thing but…” Delivering something like that isn’t his job. She had to remind herself. It should have been Ms. Eva or, hell, maybe even Mr. Jonathan himself.

For a moment, Billie was caught off guard—why was Clarisse talking about Leon’s job? Confusion clouded her thoughts until realization struck. Oh…I’m so fucking dumb—I meant substitute, not supervisor. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she felt a little sheepish at her honest mistake. Shaking it off, she trailed after Clarisse, occasionally nodding along, her mind still replaying the slip-up.

Well, guess it isn’t so bad to learn more about Leon this way, she mused thoughtfully.

“Overwhelming—more like, why the heck was he the one delivering that news to begin with?” Billie crossed her arms over her chest, a slight frown tugging at her lips, teetering on the edge of a pout. Disappointment simmered in her eyes as she continued, “It feels wrong for me to say this, but it’s kind of messed up, no?”

She shook her head and let out a deep sigh. “It is.” For a moment, she was silent. Questioning authority wasn’t her thing, always trying to play by the rules set on them instead of breaking them like her friends often did. They probably had good reason to send Leon out instead of speaking on it themselves but no matter how she twisted it in her mind, it simply did not make sense. You’re older now Clarisse, you can speak about these things.

Shaking off the discomfort, she continued. “This kind of conversation, this kind of news, should be delivered by Ms. Eva. Not sure if you’ve met her but she’s our camp director. She should be the one there.” A familiar heat traveled through her, that small ember of anger that she knew she had to stomp down before it went out of control. She swallowed back the words and took a breath. “It’s not fair for Leon. I hope he’s holding up fine.”

Billie watched curiously, her gaze fixed on Clarisse as they fumbled so openly with their emotions. A slight frown tugged at her lips—something about the situation seemed off. She figured Clarisse must not have appreciated Leon being the one to break the news, either.

"No, I haven’t met her yet," Billie admitted, her tone light but thoughtful. "Just Mr. Evergreen." Her brows knit together as she slowed her steps to match Clarisse's pace, a hand resting under her chin in an almost exaggerated gesture of contemplation. "But the camp director?" she echoed, her voice tinted with confusion.

She mulled it over, her puzzled expression deepening. "The heck? Why wouldn’t the boss of the boss announce that then?" Her words didn’t fall on deaf ears, though. At the mention of Leon and the hope that he was okay, Billie nodded her head in agreement, her expression softening. Yeah, she thought, I really hope he’s alright too.

“God if I knew…” and I grew up around them. She wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, really she did. She loved Mr. Jonathan dearly and Ms. Eva had always been cordial and responsible whenever she saw her outside of a family setting.

“And, er, you know you can curse, right?” Clarisse reminded, trying to lighten the mood and forcing herself out of her agitated state. “Technically you can't do it around campers but no one would bat an eye if you let one slip every now and then.” Lord knows how many campers learned how to curse from overhearing them but that's just the process of growing up.

At the mention of being able to curse, a small laugh escaped Billie. On the tip of her tongue was the remark that Mr. Evergreen had said the same thing to her, but she decided to hold that bit of information back. Instead, she grinned and exclaimed, "Thank fucking god for that.”

A bright smile spread across her face as she turned to flash it at Clarisse, her energy practically radiating. As they approached the small farming section, the cheerful sound of clucking filled the air, stealing her attention away. Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh my god—get me in there! I wanna see the cuties!”

Clarisse was stunned for a moment— couldn’t help but think that her companion was practically the sun against the dark and dreary day. Maybe Mr. Jonathan had a point. Maybe this is why he accepted Billie as a replacement. It reminded her of better times, of times before everything had come crashing down. God, she had always been with Billie for a few minutes and she already felt lighter. What a fun person to be around. Her and Ricky would get along. Or Leilani. I should introduce them.

It was only when she was starting to get excited about the chickens that she recovered, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah, come on.” She opened the gate into the chickens’ pen and waited for Billie before closing it again. “There’s more to farming like the greenhouse but Ramona handles that. You should probably ask her about it.” She alerted as she opened the coop and stood aside as the chickens began to pour out. She peered inside to see that their feed had already been placed. “This is going to be your responsibility Billie. Collecting eggs and bringing them to the incubator. Some of the hens are… possessive so, uh, good luck.” She gave her a cheeky grin.

A small squeal of excitement escaped the newcomer as Clarisse swung the gate open. Billie’s face lit up, her curiosity piqued by the sight of the chickens pouring out. She half-listened—or at least she tried to—as Clarisse explained the camp’s various activities. Her attention flickered like a restless flame, hopping from Clarisse’s words to the gathering animals.

“Greenhousing, huh? That’s pretty cool,” she quipped, her gaze darted to the potted plants and what appeared to be the greenhouse. Moving to the side just in time, she let out a delighted gasp as the chickens began to pour out, their clucks rising an octave now that they were outside.

“Oh my gosh, no luck needed at all!” she beamed, clapping her hands in delight at their lively parade. “I expected nothing less.” Her words came out fast, her energy bubbling over as she leaned closer to the coop, curiosity tugging at her to inspect its generous interior. Her eyes darted over the neat little nesting boxes, the occasional feather fluttering in the light breeze, before—wait. Ramona?

"Woah—hold up, Ramona? First Leon, you, and now Ramona? I'm just Billie with an I! Such cool fucking names." Her words spilled out in a lighthearted gush, emphasizing her incredulity with a laugh.

She plopped herself onto the ground, her knees pressing into the earthy soil. The chickens, seemingly unfazed by her sudden descent, clucked and strutted all around her. One particularly plump brown hen caught her attention. Billie's eyes lit up as she extended her palm cautiously, her heart thrumming with the kind of anticipation that only came from the thrill of connection—so freaking adorable!

"Where I'm from, there were at least ten Jessica's and maybe a few Dylan's and…I think Emma's." Her grin widened just a fraction, still keeping her focus on the chicken, silently praying it wouldn’t decide to peck her as she tried to make an offering of trust. "Ramona, though? You guys really upped the coolness game around here. Totally out of my league.”

She watched their newest counselor sat on the ground, for a moment falsely thinking that Billie had actually fallen, and letting herself relax upon realizing that it was just her companion being herself. Having a little bit of fun with the chickens who, while wary about them as humans within their space, didn’t seem to mind Billie’s presence all that much. Clarisse followed Billie’s gaze to a hen who seemed just as mesmerized, just as curious.

“Yeah, Ramona has a pretty name.” She mused, a little quirk on her lip, remembering the very same words that had come out of her mouth oh so long ago. She waved her hand a little dismissively. “It’s okay. I came across so many Clarisse’s when I was in college. You’ve got a cute name though, Billie. It suits you.” Clarisse slowly moved around Billie and the hen that was coming ever so closely to her.

“Looks like you already found a friend.” She crossed her arms from where she was standing before letting her gaze roam around the others before landing on a white hen, bigger than the others and she snorted. Oh, she recognized that look in that chicken’s eyes. One hen that seemed to pass down its stubbornness to its many descendants— she couldn’t believe that damn hen’s bloodline still continued.

The brown hen edged closer, its tiny steps causing Billie to hold her breath in excitement. Slowly, she extended her index finger, carefully grazing its feathery back with carefulness—wide-eyed and all. “Holy shit, are you watching me?” she whispered to no one in particular, her voice hushed and shaky with giddy restraint, not wanting to startle them all away.

Her head tilted slightly at the sound of Clarisse’s voice, breaking her trance. “Aw, thanks, Clarisse!” she said with a grin, briefly glancing up. “Luckily for me, I’ve only ever met a bunch of Billys with a ‘y’—you know, the typical male version.” She shrugged, her lips curving into a wry smile, shooting her a jokingly what can you do about it look.

Gesturing with her free hand, she beckoned Clarisse to join her in the fun. Her inviting smile faltered slightly when she noticed her friend's gaze fixed elsewhere, a distracted look on her face. Curious, Billie followed her line of sight and spotted a larger white hen standing just a few feet away. A snort escaped her, unable to hold back her amusement. “You got a bone to pick with that one?” she quipped, raising a brow.

Clarisse shifted in her stance, not breaking eye contact with the hen even as Billie spoke. “Mm, and usually they’re nicknames. Thinking back, I had a friend. He was a senior, I think? He was a Billy too, but his actual name is William. No idea where that nickname came from.” She tried using his full name before but the stink-eye that followed made her stick with the nickname ever since. She wondered how he was doing nowadays.

Billie’s observation caused Clarisse to look away, giving the victory to the hen who began to walk off once the stare-down had finished. “No, it’s…” A small bit of discomfort, thoughts that weren’t her own entered her brain. It was childish. It was stupid. But she looked at Billie who was sitting on the ground and playing with a chicken who was inching closely, now following her movement. It’s not so bad, is it? Something in the back of her mind was yelling at her not to. Billie was new, she should be cautious.

“When I was a kid, I was a camper here. I spent a bit of time chasing chickens around. That one—” She pointed at the hen. Despite looking nearly the same as the others, Clarisse could pick it out with an almost ninety percent accuracy. “ — is like a descendant of what I used to call my nemesis. I think she’s Roberta the Third? They’re pretty feisty, never really lost the protective aggressiveness that the original one had.” She shifted again, growing a bit uncertain of this openness with someone she barely knew.

It was like looking into a mirror, the way Clarisse hesitated, visibly caught in the push-and-pull of whether to speak her mind or let it stew in silence. Billie recognized that version of herself so well—the one who used to overthink every word, every moment, until she finally learned to just spit it out and move on. Shameless. Unapologetic. Free.

But discomfort was written all over her. So, she didn’t press her. Instead, she kept quiet, her attention shifting back to the brown hen, fingers tracing gentle circles on its back while giving the other space, an open stage once ready.

At the mention of chasing chickens, Billie perked up, her gaze flicking back to Clarisse with curiosity. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she straightened her posture, brushing stray strands of hair out of her face.

“Roberta the Third? Dude, another sick name,” she said with a light laugh, glancing at the hen she'd just been petting. “I was just thinking of calling this one Bee.” She gave the bird one last affectionate scratch before pushing herself off the ground, clapping her hands clean and swiping at her knees.

“So—chasing chickens, huh?” Her grin widened as she tilted her head to the side, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s stopping you this time? Scared you’ll lose to me?” she gestured to the chickens briefly before tossing her hair over her shoulder like a challenge, mirth still dancing behind her eyes. Live a little, just some fun!

Clarisse snickered. “Yes, well, twelve-year-old Clarisse was very creative.” It had felt right in the moment when she had screeched at the thing before charging straight at the hen which ended up with her on the dirt and the hen triumphantly standing over her. It had been a comical sight, one she was thankful that photos were unable to capture or else she doubted anyone would let her live that down. “Bee’s a good name. Cute one.” Fitting for a docile creature too.

She expected embarrassment to fill the gap of the reveal but a challenge was issued instead. And, well, Clarisse wasn’t ever one to back down from a challenge. It was one of the things Renee chided her for but it was simply an instinct she couldn’t ever bury. “Think you can wrangle Roberta the Third on your first try, newbie?” She asked, a cocky grin making its way up to Clarisse’s face as she dropped her arms, loosening her body and readying herself for the race.

Billie smiled at Clarisse’s words, her mind drifting to a much younger version of the girl standing before her, running around carelessly and chasing chickens. Must have been sweet, she thought, a soft laugh bubbling up at a memory she could share.

“Twelve-year-old, huh?” she pointed out, her eyes twinkling. “I was climbing trees for my crushes and falling out of them just as fast. What a weird time.” She jutted her hip out to the side, hands clasped together in excitement. “Oh, the name? I picked it on a whim, thought it suited the cute little hen.” She gave an invisible boop in the air, her gaze landing on the particular brown hen she was talking about, as though the gesture could somehow reach her.

The memories of climbing trees, rock walls, and boulders under the watchful gaze of two older campers who laughed and caught her hands when she slipped and it twisted to a lie. Clarisse reached up, scratching the faded scar on her cheek.

At the nickname, Billie matched Clarisse’s energy, a grin stretching across her face. “I wouldn’t make a bet, but you’re never too old to have fun.”

She mimicked the relaxed posture, letting her hands fall to her sides as she mentally prepared for the sprint. Running wasn’t her forte—preferring to stretch and breathe her way through yoga instead, at her own pace—but she was game for the challenge. “Count us down? No cheating.”

Keep yourself here. Clarisse reminded herself as the imminent challenge came— the thrill of it all grounding her in the present. She bent down to pick up a rock. “Here, to ensure no cheating. Once the rock drops onto the ground, the race starts.” With that explanation, Clarisse tossed the rock up and stepped back.

The moment the rock landed on the ground with a barely audible clack against another rock, Clarisse began to jog towards Roberta the Third. She wanted to see what Billie would do. There was no rush, they didn’t need to do anything at present and Clarisse wanted nothing more than to elongate this more easygoing moment.

With a sharp nod, Billie shot back a quick, “Got it,” but her focus wavered the moment the rock sailed through the air. She completely missed the cue to sprint the second it hit the ground. Dammit.

Now starting a few steps behind Clarisse, Billie broke into a run, her grin undeterred as her eyes locked on their target—the stubborn hen they were trying to catch. She seemed entirely unbothered at first, strutting around without a care, but that changed the moment both girls closed in.

Billie lunged forward, her hands narrowly missing their mark as Robert the Third suddenly darted off in a burst of unexpected speed. “My god, she’s slippery!” Billie called out between gasps, laughing despite herself as she picked up the chase. “You weren’t kidding!”

Clarisse chuckled as she watched Billie’s first attempt and the end result was just as expected— the hen quickly reacted and was now running around the pen in a panic knowing what exactly was happening. “Mhm, come on! Battle’s still not over yet!” She called out as she pivoted and chased after Roberta.

She attempted to cut off the hen’s route, practically herding it against the fence’s corner. She turned back to look at where Billie was for a moment before turning back to the hen who had turned around. In an unexpected motion, the chicken darted straight at Clarisse and the moment of surprise cost her the moment of capture as she reacted a second off and all she managed to touch were the feathers at the tail of the hen as it sprinted between Clarisse’s legs.

“Please, please, please tell me the others aren’t nearly as active as this one,” Billie panted, clearly out of shape when it came to running, once again grateful for yoga. She paused, one hand clutching her chest while the other rested on her hip, watching with mild entertainment at the sight of the furious chicken booking it straight towards Clarisse’s waiting arms, only to juke her last second. “Roberta the third is about to school me on my job, oh my god.”

“They aren’t.” Clarisse reassured once she turned around to watch that damn hen continue to run. She couldn’t help but feel a little bad for putting this on Billie, seeing as the newcomer looked exhausted from the chase. “Think of her as… a learning experience! A little bit of a welcome to being a farmer.” Or, well, she was pretty sure Lisa got along with most of the chickens but she kept that to herself.

It went on like that for a while—the frantic sound of running feet, sharp skids, and abrupt stops, punctuated by bursts of laughter that rang through the air. Billie, once again, barely managed to catch herself in time as the chicken darted between her legs with startling agility.

“Okay—I’m convinced this is impossible! She really is a stubborn one,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Her fingers and palms were now caked with dirt, and her faded jeans bore a few fresh smudges from close encounters with the ground. She wasn’t bothered about it at all though, knowing it was expected to get a bit messy when taking up a farming gig. Instead, a crooked grin tugged at her lips, brushing the back of her hand against her forehead, brushing aside her strands.

“She’s going to be such a bad influence on the others,” she added, half-joking, “poor Bee.”

Clarisse stalked behind Billie at the last attempt and, just as she had hoped, Roberta the Third decided to go in between Billie’s legs and straight into her waiting hands. She quickly grabbed the chicken and brought it up, watching the hen struggle in her grip. “Thanks for the assist Billie.” She said with a grin before jerking her head back as Roberta made an attempt to peck her face. “At least she isn’t actively bullying them right?”

“No fair—you have experience,” Billie groaned, though her words were quickly chased by a wide grin that mirrored the energy around her. She sauntered toward the pair, her tone light as she added, “Rematch next time? Totally wasn’t dressed for the occasion of chasing chickens.”

Clarisse nodded. “Sure, just name the time and I’ll be here.” Her adrenaline was slowly calming down but the familiarity of it just brought her energy up again— clearly infected by Billie’s own optimism and excitement. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

She gestured down at her outfit, sandy-colored sandals paired with jeans, a tank, and a flowy blouse she’d made herself, pride evident in the subtle flourish of her hand. “Next time, I’ll get you,” she promised, pointing at Roberta, who nestled snugly in Clarisse’s hold. Billie leaned in just enough to run a gentle finger along the chicken’s back, careful to stay out of pecking range.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she was a bully,” Billie mused with a laugh, her finger retreating as Roberta gave a slight wiggle. “She’s so feisty—it’s almost like she enjoys watching us trip over ourselves.”

She shifted her hold so the chicken and placed her under her arm as Roberta the Third finally calmed down. “She’s definitely feisty but who isn’t up for a little bit of a challenge? But look, she’s a sweetheart.” As if Clarisse didn’t have a longstanding rivalry with the chicken, she patted the hen’s head with a finger. “We should probably bring them back into the coop. Just ring the bell, they know what it means.”

“On it!” Billie called, excitement bubbling in her voice as she seized her first real chance to do something farm-related, in responsibility at least. She dashed towards the bell, gripping it with eager hands, and gave it a hearty jingle. Her eyes widened in amazement as the chickens, one by one, began flocking back to the coop.

Not all of them followed suit, though—a few stragglers stubbornly lingered, their rebellious spirits on full display. The Newcomer trailed after them, laughing lightly as she bent down, waving her hands gently to nudge them forward.

She watched as Billie dutifully herded the chickens back to the coop. Something about her felt so familiar now that she could stand and ruminate on it, memories of when she was far younger and someone else shone just as brightly. She bit her cheek, turning to look back down on Roberta so as not to appear downtrodden. If you were here Paige, would you have liked her? The thought came unbidden but not entirely unwelcome. Maybe she could do things right this time.

“So, how come a substitute, again?” she asked aloud, her curiosity evident as she glanced over her shoulder. “You seem like you really know your way around here—for farming, I mean. Would’ve been awesome if we were co-workers.” Her smile came easily, light and real, as she focused on herding the last of the wayward chickens—her sandy-colored sandals kicking up soft clouds of dirt as she worked.

Billie’s words slowly pulled her out of her thoughts and she marched forward first to deposit Roberta into the coop last, giving her a final stare to make sure the hen didn’t suddenly bolt out of the coop out of spite before exiting and closing the coop’s door again. She dusted off her hands and gave Billie the best approximation of her easygoing smile from earlier. “This won’t be the last time you’ll see me, don’t worry.” She reassured her with a wave of her hand. Though, she doubted she would be covering for farming as much but maybe it would be a good idea to be around. It was just Ramona and Lou after all, they wouldn’t mind. Probably.

“As for being a substitute… well, I’ve been in this camp since I could. Been a friend of the Evergreens for even longer. So, I figured it was time to take on the substitute mantle and help around a bit more.” A half-truth really. Being a substitute means being busy, being a substitute means being able to help, and Clarisse needed that distraction to function. Like a train whose breaks malfunctioned, Clarisse’s fonder memories of the sisters resurfaced and her mouth was moving faster than her thoughts. “I’ve already been doing it before because of Renee and Paige so why not get the pay raise with it?” Not that Clarisse was unwilling to do so, it was a fun time for her. Work and play was practically the same in her head.

"That's comforting to hear," Billie said, her usual grin softening into something more less intense. She wanted to show her sincerity, her generosity to Clarisse who was opening up. "Hope we can do this more often—I need that rematch. I mean it." She shot her a look that carried a I’m being serious, her gaze warm and reassuring at the same time. Billie leaned back against the coop’s shed, the faint sounds of clucking and squabbling drifting around them as she tuned into Clarisse's words.

The mention of the Evergreens, tied to memories of growing up and working closely with friends, piqued her interest. Her brows lifted slightly, showing her intrigue. "Dude, that must have been fun—working close, with friends and all." She shifted her weight casually, kicking one leg back to rest against the shed, her arms crossing in a relaxed, light-hearted stance.

The substitute nodded, slipping her hands into her pockets as she began to idly kick a rock around— a restless energy settling in her that kept her moving as opposed to her more relaxed companion. She wouldn’t deny that the experience was fun, always being around friends. Though, if only that was everything that had happened in camp, maybe the memories would be fonder. Maybe they would have remained without regret.

“Wish I knew them—the sisters, I mean.” Billie’s voice softened, a flicker of something wistful behind her words. “Not really from around here, but—” She trailed off, her gaze drifting across the farm, then further out to take in the expanse of the camp.

“Lived in Easthallow for about a year. I found their picture one day and started hearing all this talk about the Evergreens. Especially about why Mr. Evergreen was…opening back up so soon.” Her expression shifted, her teeth catching the inside of her cheek as her mouth twisted slightly to the side. The memory of that day, how sad Mr. Evergreen looked as he walked her down the trail. Wasn’t fair.

Clarisse paused in her movements, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. She hadn’t expected for someone new to the camp to be intimately aware of the rumors surrounding the sisters, the Evergreen family— Though she isn’t very new in Easthallow and small towns talk. She leveled her eyes with Billie, the familiar rush of protectiveness, of metaphorical hackles raised, overtaking her once again. “What do they say about him? The people of Easthallow?” She didn’t interact with the townsfolk very often, limiting it to whenever she needed to fetch something there. Information brokering was never her strong suit.

“Feels like some part of me would have loved to have met Paige. though.” Her voice dropped as she spoke the name, “the way people talked about her—a younger sibling, loyal to a fault—” Her voice faltered, and a grimace tugged at her features, the word she left unsaid echoing in her mind: a coward.

Billie’s fingers began tapping anxiously against the crook of her elbow, fighting back the urge to sigh out loud. “You believe in kindred spirits?” she asked suddenly, her eyes searching Clarisse’s face for an answer she wasn’t sure she could find on her own.

Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of Paige and the idea that Billie had created of her, almost echoing her thoughts of before, but it was not the entire picture. Who Paige was behind closed doors, what she felt underneath all of that, and the polaroid in her pocket was a stark reminder of all of it.

But she relented. “Like… two people who are similar to each other?” She asked first before returning her attention to the pebble she had been kicking around. She heaved a sigh and kicked it again, watching it fly to the fence and ricochet off the wood and land harmlessly near it. “I guess it wouldn’t be impossible. For it to be real, I mean. Why? Do you think you and Paige would be…?”

What do they say about him? Billie frowned, her arms loosened slightly, the defensive edge in her posture melting as she forced herself to meet Clarisse’s eyes. The guarded look staring back at her was hard to ignore, but she pressed on, uncertain of how much she could—or should—say.

“I mean, the usual—I think?” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Wondering why he’d open up the camp so soon. That he…” she trailed off, feeling a knot tighten in her chest. “That he killed his kids.” She winced, having a hard time believing that rumor.

Billie shifted uneasily, “I had a couple of people try to talk me out of joining this gig too,” she added, her tone tinged with bitterness. “‘Ooo, you’ll be next,’ they’d say, like it was some kind of joke.”

She pushed herself off the shed with a small, frustrated huff, her leg dropping to the ground as she moved to stand a little closer to Clarisse. Her expression softened, regret creeping in as she glanced at her friend—can we be? “Didn’t mean to ruin the mood, by the way,” her voice was tinted with an apologetic tone, I’m so shitty for just dumping all of this randomly.

The need to come to an Evergreen’s defense came as naturally as breathing to Clarisse but the rumor was something she was intimately familiar with and one that filled her with so much rage and pity all at the same time. Billie clearly didn’t believe any of it, or Clarisse hoped she was reading her right. She was still here after all, accepted the job and everything.

She shook her head, digging her foot deeper into the ground with another kick. She couldn’t afford a rise in her voice, Billie didn’t deserve that. “S’alright. I asked.” She said instead. It wasn’t like she could change people’s perceptions. Rumors had a bad tendency to stick to someone no matter what they do, vile rumors standing on top of them all. She should know. Renee had been a master of them.

Listening in, she nodded slowly at Clarisse’s explanation of kindred spirits, her excitement bubbling over once she realized she understood. With a sharp whistle and a snap of her fingers, she exclaimed, “exactly! Two people who are similar to each other.”

She immediately bit her lip, stepping back to pace around the area now. The clucking of the chickens filled the silence, offering a soothing backdrop as Billie tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “It’s probably so fucked up to say, wishing I’d met them. I just can’t help but feel like we’d have a lot in common. But then…” She paused, her voice quieter, almost cautious. “I also know people can lie about themselves—or worse, build this ideal version of who they think someone should be.”

Did I want to know if she was closer with Renee or Paige? Would it even change anything? She stopped, glancing back at Clarisse with a look of uncertainty. “Were you…close with—”

Instead, the Newcomer batted the heavy question aside with a light laugh, brushing it off with a easy shrug. “Gah—forget it, this is just me being silly and spiritual, don’t mind me! Nothing but air up here.” She pointed at her head, shrugging her shoulders at the dig to herself. And it won’t be the last.

Without waiting for a reply, she started towards the gate, knowing the next activity would begin any minute most likely. “I’m not sure if you’re needed elsewhere, being a substitute and all, but—” she trailed off, drawing both arms behind her back. Her fingers fiddled with each other as she rocked slightly on her heels, hopefully we do this again.

“Hey, we should totally do this again,” Billie added, meeting Clarisse's gaze with a grin. “For a rematch.” Her expression softened, genuine appreciation shining through. “You’re also pretty fucking cool, Clarisse.”

This conversation was veering in a way that was unexpected, as if trying to build up to some momentous realization from Billie. But it was cut off right in the bud by the same person who started it and Clarisse let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The topic of the sisters was a sensitive one for anyone— mostly because their disappearance counted as one of the biggest mysteries of their lives. But Clarisse didn’t even know if she was ready to reopen the wounds of their departure; to be in the place they etched themselves in made her raw enough but speaking about them to a near stranger? To someone who had preconceptions?

She wasn’t sure if she could handle it.

Clarisse watched Billie carefully as she dropped the subject entirely and her words made Clarisse more aware of the time, of how the sun was high up in the sky and there was no doubt that it would be inching closer to her appointment with the sports counselors.

The sincerity of Billie’s tone caught her off-guard. Too used to honesty being an uncertain factor in anything, especially in regard to compliments and gratitude, Clarisse wanted to ruminate on it further. But Billie had been nothing but honest, right? So, Clarisse responded in kind— if anything, she wanted to hold it close and hope she didn’t disappoint in the future. “Yeah. And you’re cool too, Billie. Welcome to the camp.”

Before Billie could leave, Clarisse added. “And yeah. I was— am. And I think Paige would have liked you too.”
code by valen t.
 
TURN UP THE HEAT

drama central
E
lodie. Harper filed the name in her memory for the next time she crossed paths with the girl who shuffled away with her tail tucked between her legs. It was an unusually pleasant sight to behold knowing that she was the cause of it―Cute name wasted on a pathetic girl―The Evergreen didn’t make a habit out of making enemies during first encounters, but she had started it first, unknowingly or not. No one would be exempt from a firm reminder of their place. Especially not you, Newbie.

Almost reveling in the sight of her handiwork, a genuine smile of amusement formed on Harper’s porcelain features before she turned back at the sound of Leon’s voice reminding her of her position. Lucky me, she parroted internally, rich in sarcasm. Least I won’t be working alone. “Juliette, huh? Is she any fun or should I expect that again?” Harper half-joked, though that didn’t knock her sudden curiosity of her fellow chef. Getting shoved into the kitchen all session long could almost deter her from returning to camp if she didn’t have an unshakeable motive for staying. The least her uncle could do was stick her beside someone amusing. Then again, that Elodie girl had already lowered her expectations. Anyone would do better than her.

Not before surrendering her luggage over to Leon with a vocalized and truehearted ‘Thanks’, Harper took one last glance of the Dining Hall, eyes landing on Elodie who appeared to be doing the same. Bye Elodie, she mouths to her with a tantalizingly slow wave of her hand before letting Macmillan lead her toward the kitchen entryway in a sashay.

“Yeah!” Leon responds, his enthusiasm stunted by the unease of having an Evergreen to answer to. He takes the handle of her suitcase and gives it a careful tug, wondering how foolish he truly is to think lugging Harper’s suitcase along could absolve him of guilt in her eyes. “Juliette’s pretty fun, definitely one of the most lively ones here.” His tone leans towards fondness, though the pit of unease in his stomach widens considerably. The last thing Juliette needed was another Evergreen in her life.

Ducking into the back kitchen, his head dips, sheepish and guilty for having left Shiloh alone. “Hey, man. Sorry ‘bout that.” He glances at Harper, stepping off to the side and giving her room for an entrance―to which he catches himself on, giving a slight shake of his head. She’s not Renee. No need for a spotlight. “This is… Harper Evergreen,” he releases the handle of her case, gesturing towards her with his palm facing upwards. “Harp, this is Shiloh Twine. Eva’s son. He’s finally returned to camp.”

Noticing Annalise, and more importantly the deliberate distance between her and Shiloh―he throws a questioning look at his oldest friend―and makes an awkward recovery, facing Harper head on as he addresses her. “Annie Cartwright.” He pauses, for once thinking through whether it was worth noting how close she’d been to Harper’s cousins, and decides better of it. She can do that if she wants to.

“Heh. How are these dishes coming along?”

Annie’s pale gaze, still boring into Shiloh despite their separation, flicked toward Leon at the sudden intrusion of his voice. “They’re not,” she answered. “Shiloh got distracted.” The blonde cast the man in question one parting pointed look before finally turning her attention to the young woman accompanying the Supervisor.

Harper’s silky hair was darker than Annalise had seen on any Evergreen she’d known, but she carried herself with the air of confidence so synonymous with that name—really, she needed no introduction. “Hi,” Annie greeted, smile returning in all its false glory. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard lots—all good things, of course.”

‘All good things’? Mirroring Annie’s pearly white and ingenious smile, Harper steps further inside the kitchen, leaving Leon a little ways behind to get a better view of the girl leaning against the kitchen’s countertop. “You know―if we’re going to be friends, you shouldn’t lie to me. Or you can at least get better at it,” never one to hold her quips back, she releases a lukewarm chuckle, throwing a glance over to an unusually quiet Shiloh. Wonder what his deal is, her eyes narrow some before returning to the blonde. “It’s nice to meet you too though, Annie. Shame you aren’t the mysterious ‘Juliette’ Leon was telling me about. I thought I would get to meet her. But I guess I’ll have to pull her weight on my first day.”

Leon’s mouth pulls to the side quizzically, finding himself shrink slightly by Harper’s naturally dominating presence and the ease in how she speaks down on others. Evergreens. “Juliette was swamped last night. Makes you guys even now.” An awkward chuckle accompanies the comment he says under his breath, far too intimidated to make himself heard.

Annalise tilted her head, biting down on the inside of her cheek. Harper was evidently just as abrasive as her cousins could be at times—worse, even. Fucking Evergreens. The blonde’s grin returned at last, eyes blinking innocuously. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Renee and Paige were always talking about how fun you are. Don’t tell me they were wrong…” Clearly.

Jaw ticking, Annie fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yorkie’s around here somewhere. I’m sure she’s excited to meet you, too.”

She’s missed having the warmth of an Evergreens’ ass to hide in.

Yorkie…? A small scoff escaped her lips at the humiliating nickname for her co-worker, but that’s all she would allow. Biting back the rest of her obviously entertained reaction, Harper nods slow and deliberate once her cousin’s names are mentioned, curiosity piqued as her head tilts slightly. What does she know about Renee and Paige? “I’ll let you and Yorkie figure that out…” she instead settles for.

As if on queue, Harper turns her attention on Shiloh who finally decides to break the ice and she settles for a smirk in response―one obviously more meaningful than the half-hearted grin she offered to Annie moments earlier.

Was his eye twitching? Shiloh felt his eye twitching. He wasn’t blind to any of the confused or pointed looks shot his way as two more entered the heated conversation, but Shiloh’s eyes never left Annie’s until she had completely turned to address the newcomers. His eyes followed her, as if on a lead of some kind, and he was met with Leon. “No worries,” Shiloh retorted before he rolled his eyes in response to Leon’s silent question, hoping he understood that he would explain later.

Leon meets Shiloh’s eyes, head bowed ever so slightly to appear as invisible during the exchange as possible—mentions of Yorkie and tense back and forth between Harper and Annie left him with the impression of watching a boiling pot. Look away for a moment and it’ll overflow into something unmanageable. A mess he wouldn’t know where to start with cleaning up.

What slightly tore Shiloh from his bad mood was yet another familiar face, Harper Evergreen. One corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk as he gave her a once over, “Well I should’ve known you would show up this year too,” there was a lighthearted emphasis in his words as his body turned away from Annie towards Harper.

“Duh. Like I’d let you have all the fun in the spotlight,” she offers, smile still clinging to her face as she begins a leisurely stride toward her childhood friend. Looping her arms around his neck for a quick hug, the gesture was short-lived before she opts to give him an appreciative once-over look herself. “What the hell did they feed out there, Shi?” Who knew muscles looked better on you than those lanky arms you used to have? Harper steps back into a more comfortable space between them while crossing her arms over her chest.

“You still planning on helping me out in here or did you just come to tie up loose ends?” unhesistantly, the Evergreen casts a suspicious glance toward Annie, intentional and deliberate, before slowly turning her gaze back to Eva’s son.

A natural and friendly smile crept on his face as he hugged Harper back, “Ha ha, yes I’ve put on some muscle since I was seventeen, what a shocker,” He released the hug and felt a small twinge in his eyebrows at her ending comment. Loose ends? What’s that supposed to mean? Shiloh elected to glide over the comment altogether, ignoring Harper’s pointed glance towards Annie. Hell if I’m getting in the middle of that. “Technically I’m out here to help Officer Jones, as we’re both technically the only ones legally licensed and trained for this kind of thing?” His tone remained ignorant and playful towards Harper.

Helping…? Knocking an Evergreen’s steely resolve out of place was blatantly difficult but not impossible, evident in the way her wit dissolved and her smile fell slightly. Finally…they’re gonna come home. His news wouldn’t change her plans to participate—Easthallow had a year to make some progress in their case and failed miserably. The last thing she’d ever think to do was trust someone with her cousin’s lives again, but Shiloh jumping on board changed things. He was a fresh pair of eyes and practically family. If anyone could bring some type of justice alongside her, he would. And you’re gonna help me.

As simply as breathing, Annalise slipped into her rightful place—hidden in the shadow of an Evergreen girl. No matter who it was, she always seemed to pale in comparison. At least Renee and Paige had been her friends. Harper… Annie should’ve known better than to think that this summer would be any improvement from the ones spent at the camp prior.

The blonde bit her tongue but not hard enough.

“I don’t know… I think Shi has other places to be.” Then, turning toward Leon, Annalise changed the subject altogether, “Could you bring me that stack of plates? Shiloh’s distracted again.”

Thrown a lifeline, Leon breathes with widened eyes, “yeah, sure thing!” He tucks Harper’s suitcase to the side and seizes the stack of plates from the cart Annie had pointed to, hurrying over to where she stood and loading them into the trough sink. “I’ll help.” He mumbles at her side, flipping the faucet on.

Annie’s sudden shuffling toward Leon elicited instant recovery, reminding Harper that they weren’t the only ones in the room. A quiet exhale through her nose escaped her, acting as a reset to her attention, before the same facade fell back into place. “Yeah? Well let’s see if all that training will help you wash these dishes with us then, Officer.” with the sarcastic veneer firmly back again, she turns her attention back on Annie, Leon, and the stacks of plates growing stickier by the minute. Disgust evident, she rolls her eyes. Thank God I don’t have sleeves.

It took everything in Shiloh’s will to not physically roll his eyes and bite back at Annie’s passive aggressive remarks. What the hell is her problem? First she tries to send me to my mother’s office as if I’m due to be grounded or some shit? Then she has a problem with me talking to an old friend? The best he could do was silently shake his head at her comment, physically bite his tongue and look up at the ceiling in disbelief. Is this all because I couldn’t recognize her right off the bat? It’s not my fault she matured and grew up.

Once more, Harper’s teasing words seemed to lessen his pre-existing bad mood. Shiloh gave a small smirk as he finally turned to help with the dishes, following Leon’s lead to grab stacks of plates and set them in the sink. “Technically it’s Agent, but Officer doesn’t sound half bad coming from you so I guess I’ll let it slide.”

Are they flirting? Peeking over his shoulder, his attention is drawn to Shiloh with the look sliding back into place, a million questions in his eyes. He felt very much the intruder in a conversation he had no part in being involved in and can’t help but ask one of his burning questions, “didn’t know you knew the two of them, Shi.” His lips quirk up at the nickname, amused that there was one thing they had in common—they were always involved with a girl.

Annalise couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of rolling her eyes any longer—she could only count herself lucky that her back was to the offending parties and that her face was angled down toward the basin of warm water, blonde hair falling to obscure Leon’s view.

A rare feeling of simple annoyance towards Leon filled Shiloh’s chest. He shot his best friend a half-lidded death glare, whether he was looking or not. “Two of them? You mean two of my friends who have been a part of this camp since I was a kid here? I didn’t know that was such a shocker, MacMillan,” His tone had a bit of a sarcastic edge to it, one that Shiloh could never have been more than playfully bothered towards Leon. Sure, Leon may have been poking the bear that Shiloh was desperately trying to leave un-poked, but Shiloh also knew that he would look back on the situation with Leon and share a laugh and hopefully many drinks about the situation.

However, they were still very much in the middle of the situation, and Shiloh felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Dumbfounded, Leon blinks at Shiloh’s harsh response—too much had happened in the time between being campers and counsellors, was he supposed to remember every person Shiloh had interacted with? Forcing a tight-lipped and insincere smile, Leon dutifully rolls the sleeves of his plaid shirt up to his elbows and runs the ceramic plates beneath the flowing water.

“My brain has a bit of trouble compartmentalising stuff,” he explains with an awkward laugh, not feeling now was the proper time or place to explain ADHD and all of its intricacies. The first time the disorder had even been uttered within the same breath of his name, Leon had ended up at the camp for ‘troubled children’, and he was reluctant to release that information to anyone, even Shiloh. “At least that saves me from further introductions, huh?”

Clearing his throat, he points at the dish soap closest to Annie, “mind passing that over?” Then turns around to address Harper as he waits for Annie to fetch the bottle. “Dinner is served at 6:00PM, getting started around 5:00PM is usually the best bet around here. Not sure if Paige ever complained about the schedule before,” he swallows hard at the mention of the missing Evergreen, only slightly at ease after Annie had effectively tested the water for him by speaking their names aloud.

“Meals will be decided by you and Juliette based on what we have stocked in the pantry. Plenty of long shelf life options here. Allergy list is on the board right behind you… should sum it all up.” Leon finishes with a satisfied shake of his head.

For the first time since Harper stepped into the kitchen, she was quieted by Leon’s attention to detail in his lecture about what she was expected to do in the kitchen. It bored her—that much was evident in her disinterested expression—but nothing went one ear and out the other as her head slowly turned to look at the list of allergies tacked to the board on the wall behind her. Can’t actual chefs do this…? I’m gonna chip a fucking nail, she sighs to herself, reluctantly following their lead in heading to the cart to grab a stack of dirty ceramics before another view occupies the doorway.

Lifting her gaze up to meet the familiar girl, the same amused smirk returned and her tightly-knitted eyebrows softened. Saved by the sister.

Annalise angled away from Leon, arm stretching out to retrieve the dish soap. His words beyond that went in one ear and out the other—she had no need nor desire to retain how the kitchen operated; she’d been at the camp long enough now that if she couldn’t catch on to the way things ran, there was no hope for her.

As Leon pointed out a few things around the kitchen, Liv made her way into the room, coming to a stop in the doorway. She studied the scene in front of her for a second before pulling a smile. “Looks like Shiloh found you before I could, Leon,” she said, announcing her arrival. “Should’ve known you’d come right here after breakfast; take a break from working for a second, would you?”

Leon’s smile slips into an authentic genuineness as Olivia’s entrance, her stance eerily similar to Eva’s—an effortless demand for attention as she surveyed the scene before her. Looking for something to criticise, no doubt. He pulls slightly from the sink, his arms soaked in water and suds, “I would give you a hug, but—” he shrugs helplessly, his expression sheepish as he glances down at his preoccupied hands.

“Stealing him away so soon, Olivia?” a faux pout decorates her face as she throws a look back over to Shiloh, then turns back to Liv. “He’s kinda busy helping me out in here—” Well us. “But I’d take his place if I wasn’t needed,” Harper states while finally loading some plates in her hands to take. While waiting for Liv’s to respond, she turns from the cart, intending to pivot towards the sink until Annie suddenly backs away from it.

As Annalise dropped plate after plate into the sink, moving robotically, as if on autopilot, her eyes remained glued to the tree line outside. At the head of the trail leading into Easthallow, a small group of counselors had gathered. She needed to go to town, too—for someone so eager to attend a night of Truth or Dare at the Sunspot, bringing a costume had completely slipped her mind, and the blonde doubted that her aid was needed in the kitchen, not with how many others were crowded around the water basin along with her.

Looking over his shoulder to greet his sister with a warm smile, Shiloh caught a quick glance of Annie, almost in a trace as her stare was locked on the window in front of her and her arms seemed to move through the motions of washing dishes. His eyebrows furrowed in worry, did she and Harper not get along? Was this still the wreckage left from his remark about Eva?

Even Harper’s words to him and Liv were barely enough to pull his eyes away from Annie; just a quick moment to acknowledge that he heard Harper. It was nothing more than a small nod of his head before the clattering of silverware drew his eyes back to Annie.

At the addition of a new voice, one Annie knew well, the cluster of silverware in her grip clattered to the metal bottom of the sink, hands raising from the soapy water sloshing inside and flicking her fingers free of the liquid, and then, she backed away. “There’s too many cooks in this kitchen, so I’m gonna go. Have fun.” Yet, her tone implied she hoped the opposite.

Before anyone could argue, Annalise rushed out of the cramped room, wordlessly passing Olivia on her way.

Leon quickly dipped at the knees, his hands clamouring to catch the silverware before they connected with the ceramic plates and left scratches—to no avail—and winces at the obnoxious sound, his gaze flitting between a grimace and worry. He looks over his shoulder in time to see Annie’s honey hued hair disappearing from sight.

“Clumsy much…” she whispers faintly, watching the blonde’s departing figure breeze past Liv, but no less satisfied at the irritated undertone her voice took on in her exit. See ya, Harper thinks to herself, smiling behind her veil of black hair as she moves to take Annie’s place.

As Annie fled what felt like the scene of a crime, Shiloh’s eyes followed her every move. Even beginning to step in her direction. He mumbled something along the lines of “I’ll be right back,” to Leon before fully following Annie out the door. Shiloh’s hand found his sister’s shoulder as he walked past her, but his eyes stayed glued ahead.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice tried to bridge the gap that she had gained, moving much faster once out the door than Shiloh had realized.

Annalise’s hastened footsteps came to an abrupt halt when she realized she wasn’t alone in her exit. “Yeah,” she answered, shrugging Shiloh’s concern off like rain ricocheting off the nylon of an umbrella. “Why wouldn’t I be? I just have better ways to spend my time than scrubbing dishes.” Unlike some people. “Go back and help Harper if you want. She seems awfully desperate.” She spun on her heel again, as if to continue her journey—deep down, she hoped she wouldn’t hear the sound of Shiloh’s footsteps receding back inside, though she didn’t want to be around to see the outcome regardless.

The scowl on his face deepened as she quickly turned around and called out to him over her shoulder. Any other day, any other person that decided to walk away when he wanted to check on them? He would’ve walked away. Secretly flipped them off for turning down his rare instance of vulnerability.

But yet Shiloh felt his shoes thumping into the ground beneath him as he tried to catch up to her. Because this wasn’t any other day, and this wasn’t any other person.

“Annalise,” Shiloh caught up right behind her. His hand involuntarily reached to grab her arm as if being pulled by a string, but he quickly stopped himself and let his hand fall back to his side. Instead, he took a few extra paces to stand in front of Annie, attempting to stop her in her tracks. “I’m trying to care about you over here,” He half joked (maybe even quarter-joked), his eyes having melted from their stern scowl into something softer, more concern instead of hurt.

The blonde stopped in her tracks, held in place by the sudden use of her full name. Annalise could’ve easily ignored it, but something about the serious tone it invoked rooted her to the spot, inclining her to listen. Her blue eyes fluttered shut, brow furrowing. What am I doing? And when her eyelids drew back again, the man was standing before her, effectively blocking her previous path, yet his gentle expression confirmed that there was no antagonism in his actions.

Annie sighed. If Shiloh was anyone else, she would’ve maintained her bitterness, but she couldn’t bring herself to berate him further, not with Harper and Juliette gone. They were the main sources of her frustration—it did no one any good for Annalise to take it out on Shiloh instead, despite her tendency to draw those around her into her destructive spirals regardless of her relation to them or their level of innocence in the situation.

“I know,” the blonde relented, shoulders sagging. She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s a lot going on, and none of them,” Annie motioned back toward the Dining Hall, “are helping.” She scoffed for emphasis. “It’s like—” Annalise stopped just short of admitting her distaste of Harper’s attitude—fresh as their acquaintanceship was—when she recalled Shiloh’s reaction to having seen the Evergreen. He likes her. “Whatever. I’m going to Easthallow—I have something I need to pick up, but I’ll be back soon, ‘kay? I’ll see you later.”

Deep brown eyes were trained on every motion of Annie’s, Shiloh’s eyes were still filled with concern. There was so much he wanted to say; to comfort her, to remind her why he was at camp, to reassure her that he was going to do everything he could to protect his friends. But, as per usual with Shiloh, he said none of that. A mismatched yet sad smile accompanied his somewhat “puppy eyes” as Shiloh nodded at Annie’s words. For just a moment, his eyes flicked down to the ground, “Yeah, of course. I guess I’ll see you at the sunspot? Wonder if Leon will let me without a costume,” a small chuckle resonated from his throat, as he instinctively ran his fingers through his hair to push a few strands out of his eyes before they met Annie’s again. “Just,” A large breath went into his lungs before slowly releasing as he awkwardly yet half-expectedly held his arms out for a hug, “Be careful?”

“I can pick one up for you, if you’d like,” Annalise offered, her tone lightening ever so slightly, tension easing in her features. “That’s where I’m headed, anyway. It’ll be no problem.”

The blonde hesitated, gaze dropping from Shiloh’s face to where his arms had lifted invitingly. Generally-speaking, genuine affection was relatively uncharted territory—her family was strictly business, even with their loved ones, and Renee and Paige had always shown their appreciation for her friendship in other ways. Outside of them, Annie didn’t believe herself to have been close enough with anyone to warrant such a thing, especially not without it being prompted by herself, but once her initial surprise had subsided, she shuffled forward into Shiloh’s grasp, her smile hidden in the fabric of his shirt. “Of course,” she promised. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

As his arms wrapped around Annie, Shiloh was finally able to put words to the feelings that had been stirring in him for the past several minutes. It was something along the lines of protection. Shiloh remembered when Annie first joined camp when he was twelve years old. The two were fast friends, of course it was easy to make such fast friends at those young ages. As they both grew up at Camp Evergreen, Shiloh adopted a sense of protection towards Annie, as he very easily did for many people at camp when he was younger.

Sure, Shiloh and Annie were never best friends growing up, but Shiloh had at least considered them to be close once upon a time. Of course he cared about her, he spent so many years believing he had to protect her, keep a close eye on her, thanks to some cryptic conversations with his mother who had taken Annie under her wing. But now, with Shiloh’s return to camp, he was witnessing just how grown up Annalise Cartwright had become in the past nine years. And to be completely blunt, she seemed to have grown into a much better person than Shiloh had in his time away.

Shiloh took a deep breath as his arms were still wrapped around Annie. There was a part of him that was realizing that everyone he knew nine years ago had more than likely completely changed. Hell, he had completely changed. There were days where he looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize who he had become. His move to New York and the reasons behind it had hardened him, made him distant from true vulnerability. Something deep inside him told him he was better to not be vulnerable, and he hadn’t been for years on end. God bless his sister, Liv; with her visits to him up in college, Shiloh was convinced he would’ve completely lost himself and become a cold and heartless monster. But to be perfectly blunt once more, most days Shiloh saw himself as that anyway.

His thoughts caused a pang in his heart. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back to camp. I should’ve stayed in Easthallow to work with Officer Jones. I shouldn’t have brought myself back to these people. To this place. With how much he had changed, he knew that meant his friends from nine years ago had also changed. With a now tightening feeling in his chest as his chin resting atop Annie’s head, he wondered if he would truly be able to pick up where he left off with anyone. No matter how much he tried to do so with Annie, there was already so much that had changed between them; from the tensions about Eva Twine to the way his eyes looked at her.

Annalise pulled away, offering Shiloh a parting wave as she brushed past him. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me!” she called over her shoulder, winking, then turned forward, quickening her pace lest she be left behind by those already lingering by the trail.

The man couldn’t help but be stuck in place for a few moments as the woman walked away from where he stood. He couldn’t even muster up any words or any kind of quip in response to her. There were too many thoughts swirling around in his head and his chest. As he stood on the trail, just a few feet away from the dining hall in the shining sun of the early afternoon, Shiloh wrestled with his emotions and instincts. In New York, they were in agreement; protect himself, don’t let anyone get too close, act on self preservation and don’t put yourself on the line for anyone’s sake. This agreement had turned him into a selfish, thoughtless person, only using people for his own gain. But there was something about Camp Evergreen, where his child-self seemed to reside, that caused discord between his emotions and his instincts. He wondered if it would be better to fight the wants and ways of his past self, and give everyone the stiff arm to distance him from everyone? Or to give in and fall into step of who he used to be?

Is it this place? Or is it the people?


Back in the kitchen, Liv watched her brother follow—was that Annie Cartwright?— out of the room. There was a strange tension that followed the two of them, but she could always dig into that with him later. Instead, she turned her attention back to Leon and Harper.

“Don’t worry, I won’t need to steal anyone from your dishwashing operation here, or his wet hands,” she replied, lips twisting into a smile. “Just figured that since Leon’s become the top dog around here, he could tell me which cabin I’m supposed to be staying in. And what the hell I’m supposed to be doing today, really, since I got here right at the end of breakfast and I have no clue what’s on the table for me today.”

This was one of those moments Leon felt out of his depth as a Supervisor—glossing over tense moments, pretending it wasn’t anything at all effectively combatted his thoughtful nature. Keeping peace was harder than it seemed.

Grateful for the change of subject from Olivia, he stacks the rinsed silverware beside the trough, nodding at the washed pile. “Liv, you mind drying? The placements are in my pocket, but I’m sure you are in the Chinook Cabin—with Annie, she just left—and uh, since having a resident therapist is kind of new here…” he trails off, another awkward laugh to add to the tally. Finding ways to dance around the reasons why so much had changed without outwardly mentioning the sisters was a challenge in and of itself. “You should be operating out of Med-Bay. Maybe check in with the group there and familiarise yourself with Liberty, Marquis and Alton.”

A flicker of annoyance sparked in Harper’s chest at the undeserved praise toward Leon—immediately forced to swallow her scoff in favor of using her energy to match his pace with washing off dirty plates and piling them in the designated area. Top dog? My ass. She finds herself admitting in spite of the respect she still had for him. Leon Macmillan was a friendly face and a perfect candidate for a long-term counselor, but there would never be an individual more suited to be called ‘Supervisor’ than Renee Evergreen. You’re just keeping her seat warm.

Schooling her expression into something neutral, Harper’s attentiveness to the tedious task grows consistent as she keeps an ear out for their conversation, feeling herself growing slightly more appreciative once Liv joins in to pick up what Shiloh abandoned.

“So, uh—” Leon clears his throat, pressing his thumb into the divot of a spoon with the dish soap. “In case you missed it, Harper, Liv… we have Truth or Dare tonight, not sure if you remember that little tradition,” a wince accompanies his laugh, recalling Juliette’s words about handling it differently.

“It’s a costume party. Think of it as our version of Halloween in the summer. So, a number of counsellor’s are likely heading into town for last minute shopping if either of you want to check in and make a request.”

At the mention of the classic camp tradition, Harper is pulled out of her thoughts and flicks a gaze over toward Leon. We still do those? “Ugh, I missed those parties at the Sunspot. I think I need a beer or two if tomorrow’s anything like today’s going.” A clueless newbie and a feisty polly-pocket? I need a pick-me-up before they make me regret coming here. “I wonder what I should wear though. Red devil, maybe?” Who was even left to ask?

Liv crossed the room as he spoke, grabbing a rag and starting to work on wiping the already-washed dishes dry. “I’m good on a costume, I think,” she replied. “There’s at least four storage boxes of stuff in my car still, I’ve gotta have something in there.”

“But the Med-Bay sounds great, I can head over there after we’re finished here,” she added. “Considering it seems like your four-man operation has dropped to two, it’s my civic duty to help you get through this pile.”

In response to Liv: “Don’t tell Shiloh, but you’re officially my favorite,” Harper openly admits, suddenly noticing their clean pile of dishes growing larger than the dirty ones. “Actually, you can tell him if you want to. He doesn't deserve your credit.” Especially not after running after whatever her name was. This isn’t a damn Lifetime movie.

Liv laughed. “Glad to take the title.”

As if on cue, Shiloh re-entered the kitchen to see his sister helping the duo wash and dry dishes. “Aren’t I the best brother ever?” He joked toward Liv as he re-joined the dishes effort, “Making you do dish duty on your first day back,” The lighthearted tone of his voice was nothing short of a surprise to himself, still trying to battle the strange feelings of his previous conversation. Shiloh stood next to his sister, helping dry dishes and stacking clean and dry dishes out of their way.

Leon scrubs at the plates one by one, intent on removing the syrups and cream stubbornly holding on. In between each plunge of the dish under running water, he thinks back on the last time he’d seen each person in this room—feeling like an utter jackass when no memory comes to mind, each one scattered amongst the pile of teenage angst, romantic flings, roommate shenanigans and last summer; frustration blossoms at how much of his mind dedicated itself to the last fucking summer.

Finishing up the last of the plates, he stacks them for Liv and rinses his arms beneath the stream, flicking impatiently at the suds. He glances towards Harper, fighting the urge to shrink and instead calls back to her earlier comment about the Sunspot, “I promise plenty of beer and plenty of good spirits.” A promising smile flashes, the double-meaning of good spirits intended—both physically and spiritually.

“I wager your return will be a surprise to many—all of you, in fact.” He cuts a look at both Shiloh and Liv next, stepping away from the sink to fetch a discarded and hopefully clean rag from the countertop, wiping at the liquid clinging to his arms. “Speaking of…” he leans the small of his back into the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Why have all of you decided to return?”

Shiloh’s eyes went wide for just a few moments as he continued helping his sister dry the last of the dishes. Did no one tell him why I’m here? I thought it was Officer Jones’ who reached out to me? Did nobody else know? He finished setting a tried plate off to the side before nudging his sister, “Ladies first,”

Liv throws him an unimpressed look for half a second, caught between amused and disgruntled at his attempt to shift the question to her. “His gentlemanly tendencies are undercut by the fact that I mostly came back because he was,” she said, tucking a clean plate on the top of their stack. “Plus, with everything that happened…”

Never one for beating around the bush, she took a deep breath before throwing them all into the deep end. “With Renee and Paige gone, it just felt like it was time, you know? We might not have been on the best terms anymore, but they had been family at one point. I grew up here.”

We ARE family…, Harper corrects Liv inwardly, grateful for the depth of water in the sink concealing a white-knuckled fist constricted around a lingering fork, practically suffocating the utensil in her hand hard enough to bend it backward had she had the strength to do so with ease. Hardly, she could almost hear Renee’s welcomed voice at the forefront of the war in her mind—confident, strong, and right as usual. Especially, with all of their mourning attitudes.

“I knew if there was any time that Evergreen would need me, it was now,” she concluded with a shrug, then added: “Time to go home, I guess?”

We don’t need you. We don’t need anybody. You need us.

Shiloh could only help but nod as his sister spoke. It was true, everything that had happened from the previous session sounded like Evergreen Camp needed a homecoming of sorts.

“Officer Jones recruited me to help find Renee and Paige. Since I have a more specialized field of crime scene investigation instead of general law enforcement, he figured I could be helpful,” Shiloh was never one to brag, he didn’t like talking himself up in any form or fashion. His arms crossed across his chest as a small way to “hide” himself as he spoke on his qualifications. “Plus with so much chaos and uncertainty, I wanted to come check in on everyone. Like Liv said, the Evergreens have been family, even if we’ve all butted heads from time to time,” he raised his eyebrows towards Harper with a knowing connotation “But I also wanted to check on you and Levi and Annie and anyone else who was still here. Even if I don’t really have that right anymore…” His voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, his feet taking a half step back to lean against the nearby counter.

He’s a big shot now. Leon thinks, somewhat fondly, fiddling with the rag in his hands. It was alarming how much time had passed—nine years—would he have made something else of himself if he’d been able to cut the umbilical cord and separate himself from Camp Evergreen? A voice that sounds suspiciously like that of his mother drifts to mind and he decides, somewhat dejectedly, no, I would be nothing at all.

Making sure to relax her grasp on the fork before pulling it out of the water—and using her last free hand to pull the stopper from the drain with a pop—, Harper schools her face into a faux warmth toward Liv, passing her the cherry on top of the massive crapload they had successfully tackled. “You guys said it best—” that much had been true. The Evergreen would never make the same mistake again by allowing too much emotional vulnerability. At least the trash took itself out. But I’m not testing my luck so soon.

Flicking the faucet off and following Leon’s lead to grab a clean towel for her hands, she continues. “—I wanted to come home and see my friends. Have a beer, if I’m lucky?” silently praising her timing with the return, another smile falls on her face—a possibly unsettling one if they decided to become analytical. Her natural wit would save her though as she glances from Leon, to Liv, and the finally, to Shiloh with a glint of mischief in her eye. “And like I said… I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

“Trust me, you can take as much of the spotlight as you want,” Liv said, placing the last plate to be dried at the top of a stack before turning to face the others in full. “I’m gonna have my hands full as it is, I don’t need any more attention than I’m already bound to get for appearing out of the blue. I just want to work and help out and catch up with old friends.”

When her eyes land on Harper, the light smile on her face turns bittersweet. Not gloomy, but a bit more serious. “I’ve missed you,” she added. “Even if I’m the one who decided to drop off the face of the planet—which I am sorry for, by the way.”

An expression hinting at subtle confusion causes Harper’s eyes to narrow at Liv’s more serious tone and demeanor, evident that she wasn’t expecting that sort of confession in the slightest. In her natural fashion, part of the Evergreen wants to chalk up the feeling as an exaggeration—maybe even sarcasm—but growing up with the girl never gave her a reason to question her now. Olivia Twine was nothing if not genuine, so much so that Harper couldn’t deny it even if she tried.

You’re sorry…? “Prove it…” she dares in a playful tone, abandoning her towel on the counter and pushing herself from her leisurely position against its edge to stand straighter. Taking a half, yet confident, step forward, Harper extends her arms out to Liv, hinting at an invitation for a hug with the same light smile Twine had offered her.

Leon’s eyes widened a fraction, his nervous system triggered by the dare Harper threw Liv’s way. There were too many instances where he’d seen this exact scene play out; Renee, propositioning another to take advantage of her offered ‘supposed’ vulnerability, only to rip their heads off as they nibbled on the bait. It’s only the second day, Leon straightens his posture, subtly readying himself to slip into Paige’s role.

“Gladly,” Liv replied, stepping into Harper’s waiting embrace. She tried not to be emotional as she did it, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d hugged an Evergreen in three years. Her brain wasn’t helpful, however; it was hard to forget that the last had been with Paige back in 1998, at the end of a Thanksgiving-centered visit. A bit awkward considering the tension of Renee between them, but genuine nonetheless.

There was no way to know it would’ve been the last time they saw each other. She would’ve held on longer if she had.

She swallowed, resting her chin on Harper’s collarbone. “I really am sorry,” she said.

Oh—. The wit had been forced out of her the moment she felt the overwhelming sincerity of the hug and heard the raw emotion in Liv’s voice. Olivia hadn’t said much but the embrace said everything, leaving Harper successfully stunned in place with a frown threatening to decorate her features. I can’t deal with this right now, Harper pleads to Liv internally, feeling every bit more vulnerable the more time she spent with her arms wrapped around the other in a reciprocated fashion.

“Yeah well—” it takes the Evergreen breaking the hug to finally recover in a way that wasn’t too obvious, instead opting for a gentle hold on both of Liv’s shoulders. “Don’t get soft on me now, Livvy,” Harper scoffs sarcastically, forcing a smile to her return again in spite of getting thrown in the deep end of an emotional pool. “Make it up to me tonight and don’t leave me hanging. You have to drink one with me too or else your apology doesn’t count.”

Visibly relaxing, Leon slowly exhales the pent up air he’d been holding onto in anticipation of a scene befitting that of Renee. He briefly recalls when he’d hugged Renee as a camper upon returning for his third year in a row, remembering the girl who hadn’t let power consume her so thoroughly—and the grimace she’d had as he pulled away, his hands braced on her shoulders. Her lips formed into a bitter laugh as she snapped, don’t do that again, MacMillan. I am here for my father’s sake, you’re here because you’re unwanted. We aren’t the same.

“Drinks, I can promise.” He breaks the tension he’d built up in his head, stepping away from the countertop and chucking the rag in the hamper near the exit. “For what it’s worth—I sure am relieved you’re all back here. Jonathan needs his family now more than ever.”

As Liv turned out of Harper’s grip to face Leon, she reached up to cover one of the other girl’s hands with her own, locking it in place. “Considering everything, I’m more relieved to be back than I thought I would be, too. And relieved that you’re all here; honestly, I think I’m happier to be in this room with the three of you than I’ll be to see anyone else.”

“Listen, if the Sunspot is about to become softie row then count me out,” Shiloh spoke out from his place outside of the group. Everyone’s vulnerability was sickeningly sweet, and he had met his quota on being vulnerable for the week with the stunt he had pulled with Annie. “I don’t even know if the drinks would be worth it,” He did his best to make his voice convey a sense of joking, seeing how most of his words and actions came across as intimidating and cold.

An unwelcomed jolt at Liv’s touch against her skin causes Harper to pull her hands away from the girl’s shoulders, letting one arm dangle at her side and setting the other onto a hip slightly jutted out. Hugging them earlier had been as far as she was willing to allow—even that was wading through territories she didn’t want to get stuck in—but the heart-to-heart happening in the kitchen was getting to be too much.

Where’s my bell when I need one? Before the mild annoyance building in her could stew further, Harper relieves herself of the floodgates threatening to spew from her company with a roll of her eyes toward the kitchen ceiling. “I hope those drinks are stiff, Macmillan, cause I’m gonna need one if we’re gonna start holding hands this so—” the walls of the dining hall had quieted her mid-sentence as they carried loud and discordant voices, the scraping of metal against flooring following soon after. What the hell is going on?

Taking the opportunity as her last chance exit, Harper abandons her post against the counter and saunters outside of the kitchen, retracing her steps that Leon had guided her through earlier, before finding herself in the dining hall again. The origin of rowdy kids wasn’t hard to pinpoint as her eyes landed on a bunch sitting haphazardly atop of the tables wherever space was unoccupied for them. They can’t park their asses on chairs? Kids…

“Hey,” Harper interrupts as she makes her way closer, doing her best to amplify her voice over their chorus of chaos without chastising their excitement. “Did you guys forget that we eat on these? At least sit where you’re supposed to.” a slight, and surprisingly genuine, chuckle escapes from her while she offers an arm for a camper or two to get down safely.

“Sorry. I was just telling Anthony that there’s no way the Blue team’s gonna win Color War—”

“Yes they are, Dipshit. Rowan is a pro!” a scrawny kid chimes in, face contorted with impatience that hinted at how long their argument might’ve been going on. I should’ve stayed in the kitch—.

“Wanna bet? Ten bucks says Ricky Sanford is gonna have him on his a—”

“Oookay, this sounds like a conversation that can happen outside. Get ready for your next activities, I have more prepping to do,” without giving them a chance to stall any longer, Harper ushers the reluctant group of friends toward the exit, their grumblings of disapproval growing silent as the double-doors shut behind them.

Once she pivots in the direction of the disorganized chairs, Harper heaves a disgruntled sigh—chest rising and falling harshly—as she intends to push them back in until her attention flickers down to something laying against the floor. Almost easy to miss if it wasn’t for the slight bend allowing it to protrude from the shadows, the Evergreen walks over, eyes narrowed in faint curiosity before she bends down to snatch it with her pointer and middle finger.

No! Slipping from between her loose pinch, Harper hastily attempts to squat down and grab it, feeling irritation burrow in her gut once she realizes it’s escaped between a hollow crack in the floorboard. “Piece...of...shit…,” she mumbles through gritted teeth, rising to her feet and swiping the dust off her pants. “Leon!”

Going through the inventory of drinks in his mind, slightly concerned of what this will personally cost him to supply strong enough liquor for Harper’s tastes—Leon almost startles at the sound of his name ringing out from the Dining Hall, her voice carrying upstairs with ease.

With a parting and resigned look to Liv and Shiloh, he jogs out of the back kitchen and down the steps, peering into the Dining Hall to find Harper, disgruntled and unamused.

Half a second later, Liv followed after him at a walk.

“What’s up?” He takes the steps slowly, his attention sweeping over the room to pinpoint where her annoyance stemmed from.

“Something slipped in there—” Harper begins to explain in a neutral tone, throwing a glance downward at the narrow slit in the floor before looking up in time to see Liv gaining on Leon. “I tried grabbing it after kicking some kids back outside, but I couldn’t get it. You can, right?” Or maybe you? Shiloh? Whoever was elected for the tedious task didn’t matter; it was clear in the Evergreen’s expression that she hadn’t been asking.

Her gaze flickers towards Liv again, who now stood as representation for both—her brother nowhere in sight—before she finds herself thinking, it won’t be me.

Oh. Leon dashes down the last of the steps, gradually joining Harper by the table. He carefully drops to his knees, a slight wince when the wood connects harder than normal, and peers through slits in the floorboards for the object of Harper’s desire. Glimpsing a sliver of white, his face contorts into a confuddled squint, unable to place what it could be.

“Sure, I can—nope, nevermind.” His fingers halt their efforts of prying at the wood, a splinter wedging itself into the pad of his thumb. “Might be a job for Hugo. I can go get him—” he breaks off with a sigh, he’d done his damnedest to avoid him so far.

Pushing back to his feet, Leon brushes his hands off on the denim of his thighs. “Sit tight. I’m sure he isn’t too busy.” Please don’t be busy. With a parting and semi-awkward wave, Leon breezes out of the Dining Hall in search of Hugo.

Liv made her way down to Harper’s side as Leon made his exit, glancing down at the crack in the floor between them. Hugo’s name had thrown her off for a second—she’d never had anything against him, and he’d always been kind to her, but thinking of Hugo always meant thinking of Nic.

“Is he asking Hugo to crawl under the floorboards?” She asked, pushing aside the thoughts of her ex to glance at her brother. “Or pull them up? There’s no way he has a tool to pull a piece of paper through a crack, right?”

Harper lifted her shoulder up and down in an unenthused shrug, decidedly staying quiet and turning toward the dining hall’s entryway for any signs of Hugo. There wasn’t much of the groundskeeper that she remembered fondly—there was nothing about the help worth remembering, she recalls Renee explaining—but if there was anything that stood out:

Maybe he can grease it out with all that shit in his hair.

Shiloh was close behind his sister, sharing a confused look with her as they realized Harper’s situation and request. “Are we seriously about to pull up these planks for some piece of paper? It’s probably something dumb those kids drew.” Although he acted like the paper wasn’t worth the trouble, he still closed one eye and squinted through the slats, attempting to catch a glance of what Harper was talking about.

Glancing over at the sound of Shiloh’s appearance, Harper pivots her body to face the siblings. “Sure looks like you’re curious about that ‘dumb drawing’ though, Shi,” I know I am. Following his line of sight back to the crack in the floorboard, she lets out a quiet huff.

Tool Box in hand, Hugo stomps across the Sports Field—he takes no care in steering clear of the campers running around. I ain’t moving. It was Jonathan’s brilliant idea to utilise the expansive area of the campgrounds as the epicenter for Sports instead of chopping down a few trees to make a proper clearing for the activity. His patience had grown thin with each session, a stray ball flying into his direct path, or knocking over a lamp he’d just fixed, even pegging him on the shoulder a time or two.

Aiming to be as disruptive as possible as a form of protest, Hugo walks in between two campers scuffling over the soccer ball, pivoting on his heel to kick it out from between them and in the direction of the lake. Hope it rolls right in.

“My mistake,” he quips with a click of his tongue, continuing his stroll past the counsellors and towards the Dining Hall.

“Right.” He shoves the double doors open with one hand, uncaring for how they slam into the walls. “What’s the issue this time?”

Flinching slightly at the harsh clap the doors made against the walls of the dining hall, an annoyed arch of her brow formed, causing Harper to turn her attention at the gruff voice that followed. Still the obnoxious diva I remember you to be. “We need you to get something that slipped in there.” she points at the crack again, impatience growing in her tone the more she had to explain.

Without hesitation, Hugo carefully lowers himself to settle beside the floorboard in question. “Must be important,” he gruffly comments, searching for his hammer and chisel from the Tool Box. It better be. He lines the chisel up, wedging it between the hardwood boards, and gives a sharp knock on the end with the hammer.

Working in relative silence, using the chisel at all corners of the board, he steals the occasional glance backwards at Harper Evergreen—wonder if Jonathan knows, his eyes trailing over to the company beside her. Eva’s children were hard to miss, pictures of them scattered around her office to various degrees. He’d seen less and less of the boy, Shiloh, and more of Liv as of recent.

“There a reunion I ain’t aware of?” He turns his attention back to his work, the implications of an Evergreen, two Twine’s, and his own son being back at the camp not lost on him. Nicolas wouldn’t be straying far from his line of sight, not if he could help it—Jonathan reopened camp, which left Harper’s return less of a surprise than that of Eva’s own children.

Shiloh’s eyes narrow as Hugo works on pulling back the floorboards. “Not one you’re invited to,” The words flew out of his mouth as if he was replying to an annoying child; His voice was dry and quick, as his eyes never once flicked away from the floorboard.

The tone of her brother’s voice almost made Liv flinch with how much it took her surprise. She’d been watching Hugo from the moment he arrived, wondering what sort of reception he might give her, but she hadn’t expected such a tone from Shiloh. There’d never been bad blood between him and Hugo before that she’d known of.

Harper let herself watch intently, keeping her eyes trained on Hugo’s tools as he worked to retrieve whatever had been lost. She had been pointedly ignoring his glances, as well as his quip in favor of the mysterious item, before Shiloh’s remark toward the groundskeeper caused her to steal a glance at him now. She fought back a snort, but the way the corner’s of her lips quirked up revealed obvious amusement at the unexpected edge to his voice.

No way she’s fine with this, he thinks with a sharp yank of the floorboard, ripping it up from the nails. Hugo instinctively moves aside to allow Harper to retrieve what was so important, but thinks better of it, reaching through the open floor and plucking the object from the darkness. Once he realises, his shoulders slump and he bites back a sigh, a comment, and the urge to slam the Tool Box all at once.

“Here.” He gets to his feet, roughly holding out the map. “We have plenty of these at The Lodge.”

The Evergreen backed up some as Hugo rose to his feet, but not before swiping the paper out of his hand with a bit of roughness she hadn’t intended.

‘We have plenty of these at the Lodge’, his gruff voice elicited a similar temperament out of Harper now. “You’re fucking kidding me—” it slips, unapologetically unfiltered and biting as she flips it over to find something worthy of all the trouble she had been put through. New bends in the glossy brochure had begun to form at the lack of care she handled it with.

Once it was evident that there was nothing of importance to her, Harper had to fight the urge not to tear it in half. “I can’t believe I got on my hands and knees for this,” the hand occupying the paper comes up in the air, holding the brochure like a pity prize nobody should have been proud of getting, interest nonexistent now.

Hugo’s eyes narrow at Shiloh’s clipped comment about reunions, and further when Harper complains. Ignoring the sharp sting in his kneecaps, the ache in his calves, he bends down and flips the Tool Box lid closed sharply, yanking the handle to lift the box as he straightens. Un-fucking-believeable.

Then, she remembers Shiloh’s earlier comment—irritability flickering just for a moment—before she pivots to him and pins the paper against his chest with her hand. “Here.” Harper announces, fixing her tone to be as neutral as it can be. “In case you forgot.” Welcome back.

Shiloh’s eyes had finally been torn from Hugo as Harper shoved the item at him. Being surprisingly unbothered by Harper’s annoyance, he calmly takes the map in his hands, looking over it. Why was this randomly in the dining hall? “Wait,” his voice was quiet, like he was waiting to find something more peculiar before drawing attention to himself “There’s a trail missing on the map,” His finger points onto the map to the approximate location he remembered a trail to be before looking up at Liv, “How old are these maps? I know there’s a trail here, but it’s not shown on the map,” his eyes darted over to Harper “Were these maps made in the 1800s before camp was even established?” Or are there even more secrets and lies to be found? Shiloh’s brows were furrowed. He knew he wasn’t going crazy, he remembered that trail for good reason, so why the hell wasn’t it marked?

“Oh? Guess you weren’t important enough to be invited on the decision-making committee.” Hugo swipes at his mouth with the sleeve of his arm, the condescending tone of his voice reserved for obnoxious campers slipping into place.

“Reasons. The lot of you could stand to mind your business.” He doesn’t care to elaborate on safety reasons, fixing a glare on the Twine child and shifting his gaze behind him to address Liv. “Good to see you, Liv. M’sure Nic will be thrilled you’re here.” Tool Box in hand, Hugo retraces his steps to the Dining Hall’s doors, leaving the three of them behind.

“Thank you!” Harper calls out with a tinge of sarcasm, eyes boring through the back of Hugo’s head as he walks out of the Dining Hall in a purposeful stride. “Asshole...”

Turning her attention back to the siblings, and catching the tail end of Shiloh’s questions, she shrugs again while moving to stand beside him, eyes falling where his finger was pointed at on the map. “Maybe. Or Uncle Jon might’ve had them updated for the session after—,” her voice faltered, slowly losing its confidence, and her attention fell to the toe of her beige converse. After they disappeared, Harper’s mind fills in the blank and the reminder irritates her further. Shut up. Recovering smoothly, she lifts her head up and let’s her arms cross over her chest in a leisurely manner. “Your mom might know. But next time I see him, I’ll ask. Or one of you can.”

Once again, Shiloh couldn’t help but flinch at the mention of “his mother”, but he did his best to move past it. If he could avoid spilling his personal family drama to everyone at camp, he would. Dark brown eyes raked over the pamphlet, desperate for a number to date when the map was printed. “Sure, when I get attacked by a wolf on that trail, nobody bats an eye in the way of closing it,” he mumbled under his breath before passing the map on to his sister.

What…? Casting a sidelong glance toward him while he’s fixated on the map, Harper aims to speak again until Liv chimes in.

It wasn’t until Shiloh tried to hand her the paper that Liv snapped back to herself. Something inside her stomach had flipped over the moment Hugo had said his son’s name—said Nic will be thrilled you’re here. Like Nic was here. Like he’d see her. Like she might see him.

Since when did Nic work at Evergreen?

She shoved down the lump in her throat. Nic and their memories were something she could think of later, when she had the time to consider it without people around to stare at her. When she turned her attention to the map, she focused on the spot Shiloh had pointed to. It took her a few seconds to orient her mind to where exactly he was talking about, but she remembered the path well enough after a few seconds. Sure, it had been a few years since she’d been at Evergreen, but she’d grown up here; she knew there was a trail here.

“You’re right,” she said, running her own finger over the spot like brushing dirt away would pull it back into focus. “They definitely left it off the map, but I know which path you’re talking about.”

The older brother’s eyes narrowed as he watched his sister’s behavior. Hugo’s comment shook her, obviously as it related to Nic. Even with the little knowledge he had of their parting, Shiloh’s blood boiled as he saw the evidence of Nic in Liv’s hurt. If Nic truly was at camp, he’d better pray to whoever or whatever he believed in that he didn’t cross Shiloh’s path.

Big deal, it’s just another path. Succumbing to her boredom, Harper turns her attention up from the brochure in Liv’s hand to look over at Shiloh—tensity, and what looks like anger, drifting from him like a heat mirage. This caused an eyebrow to arch in mild confusion, her attention darting from him to Liv to decode their sibling communication. “Don’t tell me you guys have some sentimental memory with a path of dirt. So what if it’s gone now?” What the hell am I missing?

With a shrug, Liv passed the map back to her brother. The sound of Harper’s voice made it easier to tune out her thoughts and ground herself in the present. “Not anymore than I have with any other path,” she replies. “It seems weird to take it off now, but nothing to waste time thinking about.”

Taking the map in his own hands, looking it over one more time before shoving it in his pocket, Shiloh looked back at Harper, “Not sentimental, just a memory,” He huffed in response as he crossed the dining hall to the door where he first entered for orientation. “But I’d rather go find MacMillian to tell me what cabin I’m sleeping in before I just pick a random one,” He called from the other end of the dining hall, slinging his bags over his shoulder before returning to the group “Anyone else?”

outfit:
locations:
Dining Hall, Kitchen.

tags:
leon & hugo ( lostbird lostbird ), annie ( lvcid lvcid ), shiloh ( sunshineysoul sunshineysoul ), olivia ( evermoon evermoon ).
 



((Note: Thoughts will be crimson and italicized while speech will be crimson and bolded.))​

1734418318137.png

The Entertainer

Thomas
Mode

The soak was doing what it needed. He could feel his shoulders getting lighter as the cool waters washed over them. His breathing eased up, his mind cleared and everything seemed ever so slightly more tolerable. So much so that he considered just staying here through dinner - he hadn't done anything to make himself hungry after all. However, as much as he didn't believe all the rumors about this lake being haunted or dangerous or whatever crap the Evergreens had cooked up to scare the kids...he didn't want to be the lab rat to find out just how tall those tales were.

Then, just as he was convincing himself that there was no validity to the claims of the lake, he began hearing something. At first, he was convinced that he had imagined the sound, or that it had come from durther out in the woods. But the sound persisted - a gentle thud...just like the type you'd hear in a horror movie before the side character died. He pulled his eyes open and looked toward where the thudding was coming from. The smart thing to do would be to leave; get out the lake, get dressed and never return. But that was side character behaviour and Thomas had a bit too much of an ego to let himself simply be a side character. The main character would swim towards the sound and investigate and make an insane discovery. And, so, he slowly swam towards the lake - moving slowly such that he was ready to defend himself against anything at any time.

His investigation brought him to the docks and he could hear the thudding more persistently now. It had also gotten slightly louder with him getting closer. However, the loudness of the thudding was nothign in comparison to the banging of his heart against his chest as adrenaline surged through his body. It was clear that there was something under the docks, but he wasn't going to swim any closer without knowing what it was. Looking underneath, he could make out the shape of a small object bumping against the wood as the water danced. Looking closer revealed it to be a book and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. He had been so terrified over a book. That was almost embarassing, his only saving grace being that nobody was here to have seen it.

Swimming around, he picked up the book and swam it back to where his clothes were. He wanted to stay in the lake a while longer - especially with the tension that had worked its way back into his shoulders with the small scare he just had - but he wasn't going to take the chances that the next sound he heard could be something much bigger than a book.

He climbed out of the water and used his shirt to dab himself dry before putting his clothes, minus the shirt, back on. He sat there, shirtless, for a moment, taking the time to open up the book and see what it was. His eyes scanned the back before opening it up and seeing the name marked on it.

A small smirk found his features as he read over the name again. Jonnie, huh? I wonder if he wants this back...

Of a truth, he had no reason - other than pure spite - to hold on to it. The book did nothing for him and meant nothing to him. Plus, he'd pushed Jonathan's buttons enough that perhaps it was time to cu the old man a break. It would also, admittedly, be amusing to see Jonathan wrestle with Thomas, of all people, returning something of his. If only for that reason, Thomas wanted to get the book back to Jonathan. For now, though, he'd keep it in his cabin, hidden with that shovel he found - which, funny enough, had also been found around here. He wondered just how many other things were hidden and scattered and left here. Maybe even the note he left Renee? Officer Sunshine would have used it as evidence against him if it had been found, which meant it was still here. He just needed to find it before anyone else did.

Shaking the thought from his head, he flung his shirt over his shoulder and began making his way to his cabin to get a new shirt.

Mentions:

 
MOOD: tense and anxious but trying

OUTFIT: n/a

LOCATION: the sports field
basics
MENTIONS:
Levi anyasjoy anyasjoy Ricky hotsauce hotsauce Clarisse AI10100 AI10100

INT:
n/a
tags
TL;DR Ricky and Clarisse arrive at the sports field first and discuss plans for the day. Rowan and Levi intercept each other walking to the field and discuss Lisa's disappearance before joining the others. The campers are split into groups of two, with Clarisse and Levi overseeing one group and Ricky and Rowan the other. Clarisse and Levi share coffee and discuss Marquis and Liberty's drama from dinner the previous night. After having an awkward moment, they begin to connect again. Hugo crosses the field and kicks one of the camper's balls towards the lake. Ricky and Rowan discuss whether they are going to truth or dare or not.
tl;dr
sports
levi, rowan, ricky and clarisse

After Leon had finished speaking, Ricky had merely sat there staring at him in shock. The addition of the ritual truth or dare made him frown slightly, brow furrowed. Was it really smart to continue the tradition in the wake of such serious news? He could have at least mentioned the truth or dare later, though Ricky was hardly the one to judge because he’d never been a supervisor and had never wanted the position anyway. Leon was doing the best he could with the rough hand he’d been dealt, but regardless the news of Lisa’s disappearance was a bitter pill to swallow. He had never been particularly close to the young woman, but they had been friendly enough. He glanced over at his friends who had been closer with her, mentally making a note to check on Rowan and Levi later during their group activity.

In the meantime, Ricky didn’t know what to do, so he defaulted to what he knew calmed him down in situations like this: music. He wandered towards the music shed, knowing it would probably be empty since music was not an activity that was happening today. As much as he loved being around other people, he did enjoy some time to just let his emotions out on the drums. So he practiced some of his favorite songs, both covers and originals that his band had written together, humming along to the easier ones as he played and working up a sweat on the more difficult ones. It felt nice to just stop thinking and let his body move through the songs, putting all of his energy into the music.

When it was finally time to get to his activity, Ricky took a deep breath before heading out. The kids should be able to have a good time without any of the stress that the counselors were feeling, and he would ensure that happened. Plus, he was friends with all of the other sports counselors, so it would be nice to get the chance to talk to them. Especially Rowan and Levi, considering their closeness to the missing girl. God, it seemed that everyone around him had lost someone dear to them in these missing girls, and a part of him felt weirdly guilty that he hadn’t been close with any of them at the time before their disappearance. The closest he got to a true bond with one of them was Paige, and everyone knew the way their friendship had faded into avoidance and animosity last summer.

No, he had to be positive. If anything, his lack of a close bond to any of the missing people was a sign that he was the one who had to keep things upbeat, for the kids if nothing else. So when he arrived for sports, Ricky was as positive as usual, trying his best to be a beacon of light for those around him. He was going to make sure they all had a good time, or at least as much of one as they could. This activity was going to be fun and uplifting if he had anything to say about it. And one thing about Ricky was that he always had something to say.

Clarisse wandered down to the sports grounds. She didn’t know if they needed any help or if Levi would rescind the offer for her to help out but she figured she might as well check anyway. After all, maybe Rowan and Levi wouldn’t be in the headspace to take the lead after the news; god, she didn’t know if anyone would be in the correct mindset to lead a bunch of kids through their activities and have to act completely normal. Like nothing wrong had happened.

She stifled another heavy sigh coming her way. Billie had been a good distraction from everything. Take it one day at a time, Clarisse. Focus. She arrived ahead of the campers so she could convene with the actual sports counselors on what they wanted to do. As far as she knew, they had no plans but Ricky was good at winging things and Rowan had always been reliable— something she would begrudgingly admit.

“Ricky!” She called out, feeling relieved that her best friend seemed to be doing… fine. Clarisse should have checked in with him earlier but, well, distractions were distractions. She didn’t want to bother him any more than she already had. She jogged over to him and looked around, feeling the weight of Levi and Rowan’s absence. Maybe they needed more time for themselves? “Levi and Rowan aren’t here yet, huh?” Clarisse knew she was practically inconsolable and difficult to talk to after the Evergreen sisters’ disappearances so she wasn’t going to judge them for it. “I hope they’re doing alright. I can’t…” She sighed and shook her head. “In case they still need more time to process it, we should probably have a plan for the activity.”

Ricky nodded, relieved that Clarisse seemed to be doing relatively okay. Even if she were more visibly upset, it wasn’t as if he would have blamed her. Hearing about another missing girl, even if one wasn’t close to her, was hardly comforting news. Which was why he had to be the one to be there for those who were closer or more freaked out than him. And though Clarisse appeared fine, there could easily be more going on under the surface, especially since it was already shaking up to be an eerie repeat of Renee and Paige’s disappearance.

But he would talk about it later. Right now, they were there for the kids, and it was important to make sure they were having a good time. Hopefully none of them would ask after Lisa.

“Yeah, having a plan in place is smart,” he agreed, chewing on his lip in thought. “If the two of them need to take a break from activities for the day, I can’t blame them. The news about Lisa is devastating, and they’re much closer to her than we are.”

He glanced at the sports shed, thinking quickly. “I know this is kinda my default, but what if we played soccer? We could always run some drills or make a different game with the cones I remember us having too?”

“Yeah. I’m just surprised they only told us now.” She wondered if they wanted to keep it under wraps so that the summer camp would continue or if Officer Jones had an entirely different plan for keeping it under lock and key. “If it weren’t for the contracts, I’d have expected a couple of us to have already gone off to look for her or something.” Or maybe they’re already off regardless of the contract.

His suggestion was expected but Clarisse had no qualms with it. Considering they’re trying to make this work within the hour before the kids’ lunch has ended, they couldn’t make anything too complicated that required a lot of set up. “No, no, soccer drills sound good. We could have them practice dribbling and shooting? Maybe set up a course and split them into two groups as a sort of race while keeping the ball on them?”

Heart pounding in his ears, Rowan tried to take deep breaths to settle the rage and panic inside of him as he stormed his way through the camp haphazardly, making his way to his cabin to be alone so he didn’t explode on someone, a spew of hot anger whose victim would have nothing to do with Lisa. It wouldn’t help to find her, even if it made him feel better. When he arrived at the cabin, his first stop was the bathroom, to rinse off his scraped up hand – the tree he’d used as a punching bag hadn’t left him unscathed and the water stung as he held his hand under the sink. The cooling water grounded him despite the storm of emotions bubbling dangerously under the surface.

It felt like failure, the fact that this kept happening to the people he cared about. He felt like people kept just slipping out of his fingers and he wasn’t doing enough to stop it. But how was he supposed to ward off a danger when he didn’t even know what it was?

Rowan grappled with this for some time as he rifled through his duffle bag for the familiar folder he’d found the morning before. As he opened it and stared at the papers within, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Like there’d be answers within it that he’d missed, something to tell him what had happened to Paige. It was all connected, his gut told him, and if he could find what happened to Paige maybe it would help find Lisa before another year passed with no news. However, he didn’t find another answer within the folder and angrily shoved it back into his duffle bag with much less care than he’d taken the first time. He looked up, eyes landing on the window, cracked the previous day and the situation seemed far more bleak than it had the previous night when everyone had been discussing the “prank.” Had it been a prank after all?

He glanced at his watch and realized that he was going to be late to sports if he didn’t hurry, so he started heading to the field. It felt wrong to continue with the day, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Run off and look for Lisa by himself? If something was taking counselors one by one, going off alone didn’t seem like a good idea. As he approached the field, he saw Clarisse and Ricky standing off to one side and hesitated – hadn’t Clarisse been moved to substitute this year? Perhaps they’d anticipated him or Levi not showing up. If he sat in his thoughts alone about it any longer he’d go crazy, so he might as well do his job. He hesitated on the edge of the field for just a moment as the campers started to arrive before deciding that he’d already come all this way and started to close the distance between himself and the other counselors.

Levi was already trudging toward the sports field, his pace slow and lacking any sense of urgency. Each step felt heavier as his thoughts circled back to his offer to Elodie, the memory still fresh and sitting at the back of his mind. He couldn’t shake the question echoing through his head: What’s stopping all of us from leaving right now? Fuck the contract.

Honestly, it wasn’t as if Jonathan Evergreen was hovering nearby to enforce it. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d seen Eva strolling around, doing her usual check-ins with everyone. The absence of authority felt like an invitation to walk away—an escape he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken yet.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Levi dragged a hand down his face, trying to rub away the exhaustion from his face. His fingers slipped through his hair, messing it up even further as he continued onwards, they were all still kids at the end of the day, counselors or not.

Bitter and frustrated, Levi cast a sharp glance ahead, his eyes landing on Ricky and Clarisse walking together. For a moment, he was confused by her presence—until he remembered inviting her during dinner. Hope she’s ready to take over for me, he thought grimly, his focus shifting to Rowan, just a few paces ahead, weaving his way toward the rest of the group.

Quickening his stride, Levi nearly broke into a jog to catch up with the fellow hothead. He made the move to reach out a hand to stop him but hesitated, pulling back when he realized Lisa was also someone he was close with. Instead, he settled for a curt comment. “Surprised you showed up,” he muttered, matching Rowan’s pace.

For a moment, nothing was said between them, his own hands in his pockets as he sported wearing jeans on a hot day. “I’m…actually surprised I even showed up, given the latest news.”

Levi’s gaze flickered toward the nearest stretch of forest bordering the field, his jaw tightening. Surely, she must be out there somewhere, right? “About two seconds away from sprinting through the woods myself,” he admitted, his voice low and tense. Reckless. That’s exactly what the comment was—reckless and impulsive. But what other choice did he have? Lisa’s disappearance felt like a cruel joke no one was taking seriously. Leon bringing up Truth or Dare? Thomas fucking laughing? What the hell was happening?

Rowan didn’t know what to say in response, he was even surprised that he’d shown up. Everything inside of him now was screaming that this was wrong, that they should be sending the campers home, looking for Lisa, making sure everyone was safe. Was all of this worth it just for summer camp?

Plus, what could he even say to Levi to make any of this better… Lisa had been close with both of them – hell, she was even the source of their own friendship. There was nothing that anyone could say to him to make it any better, Levi had to be feeling the same way.

“Yeah, I know. I almost didn’t earlier. It just doesn’t feel real. And Truth or Dare? Really?” Rowan scoffed and glanced out at the horizon of the woods at the edge of the field. Some part of him wished that Lisa would just pop out from behind one of the trees with Paige in tow, revealing that the last year had just been a big prank on the whole camp.

But Rowan knew it wouldn’t happen. Even if Lisa and Paige got along well enough to execute that (which would be a miracle itself, Lisa’s many attempts to tell him that Paige was bad news were proof of that), he knew that as soon as Paige saw her father’s crushed expression when they’d gone missing, she’d have ended it.

He turned his gaze back towards Levi, “It just feels like nobody is taking this as seriously as they should be.”

“Dude, for real. I don’t...I don’t get what Leon was thinking,” Levi bit back, his voice edged with frustration. “Trying to make truth or dare happen? Seriously? Especially after dropping a bomb like that.” Like it was some joke. His feet dragged more with each step as they approached the rest of the group, the sight of Ricky and Clarisse waiting up ahead doing little to ease his growing irritation. Can’t believe we’re even forced to slap on a fake face right now for these kids.

Levi rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension, but it simmered stubbornly, knotting deep in his chest. As they got closer, he shot a quick glance at Rowan, his friend's words hitting hard.

“It’s because no one really is.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing away for a moment before continuing, his voice heavy with doubt. “Thomas—Thomas was fucking laughing. Again.”

He sighed, his jaw tightening as he looked back at Rowan, an exasperated expression overtaking his features. It was the kind of look that read, Thomas does it to himself.

“I’m not one to believe in or spread rumors, you know that, but…” Levi trailed off, gesturing vaguely as if the rest of the sentence didn’t need to be spoken aloud. His brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just weird. And I hate it. Hope she’s…” alive, well, found.

“Let’s just get this day fucking over with.”

Rowan matched Levi’s slowed pace, the two of them avoiding facing Ricky and Clarisse, avoiding having to wear a mask for the next hour and a half. Or the rest of the day. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, he certainly didn’t want to go to the Sunspot tonight. Didn’t know if he could face the rest of the counselors pretending like everything was good and drinking to relieve the stress. Like a “distraction” would help.

“Are you even going to go?”

“Not that I want to. Pissed with Leon, but I don’t really wanna be on his bad side either.”

Rowan could feel the anger building in him again at the callousness of the situation. Especially at Levi’s mention of Thomas. Though he’d already had a distaste for Thomas and his theatrics, the fact that both of the times someone went missing Thomas laughed about it was, as Levi had said, weird.

“I know you’re friends with him and all, but I can’t believe they let him back again after last year. Like, what makes any of this funny?” He looked out at the crowd of campers now gathered at the field and tried not to think about where they fit into all of this. Even though counselors were the only ones to go missing so far, how could they know these kids were safe?

Levi mirrored Rowan’s gaze, watching the campers darting around the field. Carefree. Unbothered. He exhaled through his nose, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

“I don’t—” He paused, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “I mean, we’re friends, but…something recently came up.” His voice dropped, his tone heavier now. “About Renee—and him.”

His mouth twisted as he glanced away from the field, jaw tightening. “I don’t know where I stand, to be honest.”

Rowan nodded in agreement to Levi’s final statement as they closed the distance between themselves and where the other counselors stood. He was ready for it to end, ready to have a moment to himself to process everything. He just wished he knew what to look for to find them, where to start. There was a reason he wasn’t a detective. If only the ones they had were better.

As they approached, Rowan heard Ricky and Clarisse talking about the plans for the day and listened, not saying much, unsure if he even had the energy to coach the kids with his usual (or any) enthusiasm. He saw a couple of campers he recognized and gave them his best attempt at a smile as they made eye contact, not trying to draw attention to his irritation or make the campers feel like something was off.

Levi trailed much slower behind Rowan, his pace unhurried as he made an effort to acknowledge the campers. He offered quick nods and even ruffled a few heads when they approached, hoping it would counterbalance the knot of nerves sitting heavy in his chest. No need to let them think he was as much of an asshole as he currently felt.

Once the crowd thickened, he subtly peeled away, slipping through the clusters of campers until he caught up to Rowan's stride. He leaned in slightly, voice low but laced with a dry edge.

“And I don’t mean some kumbaya bullshit where they hang out as friends outside of camp.” His eyes narrowed meaningfully, cutting Rowan a sharp look that left no room for misunderstanding. They’re clearly seeing each other.

Thomas and Renee? Rowan didn’t piece together exactly what Levi meant until he made eye contact with his friend, a look of mild disgust forming on his face. Anyone with Renee grossed him out, but the idea of her and Thomas… It didn’t make sense to him, what either saw in the other.

On top of that, the fact that Thomas laughed in his interview… What did Thomas know that made Renee’s disappearance so funny? It didn’t make sense, and while Rowan hated when suspicious eyes were pointed at him for dating Paige when she went missing… he was taking this whole situation seriously. Gravely serious.

Levi straightened, brushing a hand through his hair as he tried to shrug off the tension once he finally joined Ricky and Clarisse. “So…time for sports?”

Ricky glanced over as Levi addressed him and Clarisse, giving the guy a smile that mostly hid the worry from his face. He’d noticed Rowan and Levi briefly talking amongst themselves before walking over, but had been doing his best to concentrate on the matter at hand instead of the tragedy looming over camp. These kids shouldn’t have any reason to be worried, even if Ricky was increasingly starting to wonder if his parents were right that Mr. Evergreen was crazy to open camp back up. The uneasy feeling in his stomach was getting harder and harder to ignore with each conversation about the missing girls, especially now that Lisa was added to the list.

“Yeah, Clarisse and I were thinking of doing some soccer drills for this session? Something fairly simple,” he added, in case it wasn’t already clear that no one was fully focused on the activity. He certainly didn’t expect Rowan and Levi to be giving Sports their usual attention, if nothing else. And he could hardly blame them, considering he was shaken up enough without being one of Lisa’s closest friends. If it were Clarisse or Leilani who had disappeared, he might have been inconsolable himself. He took a deep breath, shoving that thought away. No one else was going missing. He had to believe that, and if nothing else, he would do his best to ensure it.

He noticed his thoughts drifting off and blinked to clear his head. He had to focus enough for everyone here, considering the makeup of this activity’s counselors. Ricky was always the one with his head on straight; he would do his best to make sure the kids had fun. None of this should have to concern them, anyway.

“What do you guys think of that?” Ricky continued, glancing over at Rowan as well. He doubted that they would argue.

Clarisse watched both Levi and Rowan carefully, uncertain of what she wanted to say. Especially with Rowan considering this would be the second time that she felt at a loss for words— understanding what he was going through yet feeling like she had nothing to offer. She shifted, suddenly conscious of the polaroid picture in her pocket. She should have left it at the cabin or something, this wasn’t something she should bother Rowan with.

Thankfully, Ricky breezed past the proverbial elephant in the room to focus on the task at hand. She nodded to back him up. “It’ll be easier to watch over them too. No need to micromanage or anything like that.” Well, at least, it wouldn’t take all four of them just to supervise drills.

“Don’t really care what we end up doing.” Levi’s arms were crossed low across his chest, his body angled to the side, semi-facing them but also looking elsewhere. He was thinking about how easy it would be to just peace out and disappear into the woods. It wasn’t like anyone would notice.

“A sports activity from color war would’ve been more ideal,” he pointed out, his voice flat. “But I’m not really in the mood to babysit right now.” He threw a sharp nod toward the rowdy kids up ahead, adding, “I’m sure neither are they.”

He turned his focus back to the group, “are we splitting into groups, or? What are we thinking?”

Ricky’s overly cheerful mood was starting to get under his skin, which was unusual—usually, it didn’t bother him. And Clarisse just lingering around was starting to feel like a regret. She’s probably thinking about Renee still missing, not Lisa.

Rowan tried not to seem tense as they joined the others, mulling over all the information he’d received so far today. He didn’t even know if he wanted to be here any more… stuck having to teach kids who shouldn’t even be here when he wanted to be helping find Lisa… maybe even Paige. Even if trawling through the woods wouldn’t help, he’d at least feel like he was helping.

Instead he was here, half listening to Ricky and Clarisse talk about soccer drills and pretending like nothing was going on. He didn’t know what was worse – ignoring it or talking about it, and if either option made him less irritated. Maybe there was no stopping the simmering growing underneath his skin.

He turned his attention back to the other counselors and shrugged at Ricky’s question. “I also don’t really care…” he crossed his arms and glanced up at Levi, considering his question for only a moment. He agreed that they should have picked something that was in color war. Maybe Rowan from an earlier summer would have cared, argued about doing a more relevant sport. However, he couldn’t care much about color war at that moment. Whatever they did, they needed to get it over with already, the kids were getting antsy and so was he. “Groups would make watching them easier. Cover more of the field.”

Really, Rowan just wanted to be able to get some space, maybe steal another moment with Levi, see if he knew more about Thomas and Renee or… anything that was going on. Someone had to know more than Rowan did.

Ricky’s cheerful demeanor had yet to slip, despite the obvious fatigue and melancholy of Levi and Rowan. He knew that things were tough for them, so though neither of them looked particularly happy to be there or even particularly happy with Ricky himself at that moment, he gave them some grace. In their situation, he would hardly be pleased about everyone going about their business as normal either. He considered telling them they could just opt out of this activity entirely, wanting to let them have some time to process their emotions, but he doubted it would go over well. He was friends with both of the other guys, but he knew their temperaments, and he didn’t want to say anything that might upset them further. But if either of them had suggested leaving, he would have been more than happy to let them.

At Levi’s suggestion, though, Ricky had to admit that a color war activity would be more fitting. However, it would also mean more work, something he doubted any of them wanted. At least with his plan they didn’t have to put much energy into actively refereeing the games. And it wasn’t like he needed time to process his emotions or anything; he hadn’t been close to Lisa at all, despite a few pleasant exchanges in the past. Though it did bring back horrible memories of last year and make Ricky worry about the safety of his friends. He dug his nails into his palms, focusing on the feeling instead of the anxiety.

“Splitting into groups is a good idea,” he responded with a nod. “We could do two groups maybe? With two counselors per group? Unless y’all want to have more groups than that.” He shrugged, trying to be the picture of good cheer and nonchalance. Whatever was easiest for the others was good for him.

Clarisse wasn’t really there to offer up suggestions once they came to a conclusion— she was there to assist in whatever capacity they needed her to. Levi had a point about putting up an activity that aligned with Color War so they could get their practice in but, well, wasn’t there soccer in the event anyway? Though she didn’t know what the plan was for soccer in particular, some drills should help with it.

Still, she kept her mouth shut seeing as everyone had come to an agreement— though, she doubted it was more because no one had the energy to argue rather than a true unanimous decision. “That sounds like it would be for the best.” She shifted her gaze from Rowan to Levi and back to Ricky. Will it be okay? She almost wanted to ask. Clarisse had very little wishes of making them even more uncomfortable but snatching Ricky away immediately didn’t sound ideal so she took a step back in deciding who to partner with, content to just let the others decide.

Levi drew a hand to rub the bridge of his nose as Clarisse spoke, realizing he’d bitten off more than he could chew. After the way dinner had gone, he thought they might be able to hash out whatever unspoken conflict that lingered between them. But now, standing before her, he wasn’t sure he could stomach being around someone so close to Renee—especially with the news of Lisa going missing still fresh.

He kept his comment to himself, though, and took a deliberate step away from the group. Moving closer to Rowan, Levi felt the sharp edge of his irritation dull slightly, his presence alone easing the mood. “Splitting is fine with me,” he said, his voice neutral despite the tension in his posture. “Whatever passes the time. Who wants to be with who?” Don’t fucking pick me.

Rowan stared out at the kids as the others went on, discussing who would be in who’s group like it was an important decision. Ricky’s suggestion to do more groups sounded like a good idea to him personally, since he wanted to be left alone. However, that would mean he’d have to give the kids his undivided attention to correct their form and make sure they were getting along, and he didn’t feel like doing that.

Whoever he was paired with would probably feed the flames of his irritation either way, so he didn’t care about any of the options and just wanted to get a move on with the activity. The sooner they started, the sooner they’d be done and he could go clear his head, think about what he could do to help find his missing friend. Being paired with Levi would be ideal, but discussing anything about Lisa in the open was probably risky since they didn’t know what happened to her or how many of their fellow counselors they should truly be suspicious of. He doubted Clarisse or Ricky had anything to do with it, but he was reaching a point where he couldn’t say for sure.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan mumbled irritably as he broke away from the other counselors, forcing them to make their own decision as he stepped out in front of the crowd of campers, crossing the field some to be the head of the second group with whoever broke off to follow him.

“All right, everyone form two separate groups! We’re going to start with some soccer drills today,” Rowan yelled across the field in the most engaging voice he could accomplish, only a fraction of the usual liveliness he would typically approach sports with. Let’s just get this over with.

Ricky watched Rowan break off from the group, furrowing his brows at his friend’s statement before he called to the campers. He wanted more than anything to just give the guy a hug and tell him that he was there for whatever Rowan needed, but he wasn’t sure it would be well-received at this particular moment. After Rowan had some time to cool off, maybe that stuff would help more. But the least Ricky could do was help the guy out with the activity. It made sense for him and Clarisse to split up, giving the more affected counselors room to breathe while their more clear-headed counterparts bore the brunt of the task. It was only after he announced “I’ll be with Rowan, and you guys can pair up with each other” that he remembered the tension simmering between his friends. Hopefully they could overlook that for one activity. He shot Clarisse an apologetic smile before hurrying after Rowan, trying to keep the mood light for sake of the campers.

He did his best to make sure the groups were roughly even, saying a cheerful hello to some familiar campers and gently herding other campers to the other group to keep it equal. As he walked over to Rowan, he gave the guy an awkward smile, running his hand through his hair. He wanted to let the guy know he was there for him, but wasn’t sure how to even broach the subject, especially since the kids weren’t stupid and would surely sense it should things get too heavy. For now, Ricky decided to table the issue and talk to Rowan at the end of the activity. But in the meantime, he decided he could do the brunt of the leading campers in the drills. Soccer was his expertise anyway.

Rowan’s impatience and dissatisfaction were completely understandable. She just hoped that he would take it easy on the campers; it wasn’t the kids’ fault that they were stuck doing their jobs while their co-worker was somewhere out there. On paper, Ricky's decision to pair up with him so that he could take over and let Rowan rest was good. Ideal even. However, it left her with Levi.

Great, I’m left alone with Clarisse. Levi’s lips pressed into a tight line as he watched Rowan stride off towards the campers, leaving him rooted in place. He politely tossed Ricky a nod out of courtesy before releasing a sigh heavy with resignation. Slowly, he turned, pivoting fully to face Clarisse.

His gaze landed on her, and his brows furrowed instinctively, this is going to be a long fucking day.

She turned to him, dinner conversations flashing back. They were doing… alright, right? Besides, Liberty asked for a favor and she was more than willing to uphold her end of the bargain. With that in mind, Clarisse stared at him for a moment more before jogging off to a nearby bench and grabbing a thermos, and moving back to him. “Here. Coffee.” It had been so long since she had last accompanied Levi on a coffee break and she hoped her memory didn’t fail her in his preference.

“I can take the lead for now,” she muttered, stealing a glance at the kids who were grouping themselves up according to Rowan’s instruction. “Hop in when you’re comfortable.” With that said, Clarisse called out to the other group and led them to another part of the field to do a headcount before explaining the session’s activities.

Oh. Levi wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture. His jaw tightened slightly as he stared down at the thermos she held out—a simple offer, but it took him a moment to register that it was coffee. Before he could form a response, she was already gone, her departure marked by a trail of hurried words.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be a downer today. He just couldn’t shake the frustration boiling inside him, the way his friends were handling the news. The memory of Leon casually suggesting truth or dare hit him harder than he wanted to admit, followed by the sound of Thomas strolling out of the dining hall, laughing like Lisa’s disappearance was some kind of cruel punchline.

Swallowing the bitterness clawing at his throat, Levi shook his head and started after her.

"Trust me, I'd rather be anywhere else right now. But...I might do something stupid, like wander off into the woods by myself, if I don't keep busy." He avoided her gaze, choosing to stare at the tall trees of the woods. After a moment, he turned back to the scattered group, giving a curt explanation about the drills and the techniques they’d be practicing and keeping an eye out for. With a sharp whistle, he tossed the ball to the first kid in line, who fumbled but managed to catch it.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he drifted to the side where Clarisse stood. His shoulders slouched, keeping his head down. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

Startled by his presence, by how quick he accepted the task, she was silent for a good few moments and watched as he explained the drills to the campers. By the time he had finished, she recovered only to be thrown off her game by his gratitude. She opened her mouth and closed it again, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “Hope I got it right.” She ripped her gaze away from him and back to the campers, just so the interaction didn’t feel like she was going to make a mistake.

“I… I get it,” she continued and crossed her arms. She had a lot of thoughts about the current situations but ones she didn’t want to repeat out loud. Clarisse swallowed and let out a sigh. “Just keep someone with you. And someone needs to know your general area.” She began to rub her arm, running through the reminders that the older volunteers kept repeating to her the year before.

As if she had just advised him on something controversial, she pivoted. “I- uh, I talked with Liberty by the way. About the thing yesterday like you asked. It was just a spat about her telling one of the new counselors about what happened to Renee and Paige. Marquis didn’t want the campers to hear about it.” She repeated their conversation like it was all just a report, something methodical and familiar. A conversation topic that wasn’t too vulnerable. Something safe. “I know you were with her earlier but, um, I thought I should tell you anyway.”

This was so awkward. Levi kept his gaze firmly elsewhere, arms loosely crossed against his chest as he stood off to the side, his eyes fixed on the ball being passed around across the field. The warmth of the drink in his hand lingered, an almost annoying reminder of the gesture he was trying not to overthink.

He wasn’t much of a coffee drinker—he usually preferred water—but that didn’t mean he never indulged from time to time. Still, this felt...different. Awkward. Not wanting to draw attention to it or make a big deal, Levi quietly twisted off the cap, taking small, measured sips as he tried to mind his own business.

It’s not...horrible, he thought, glancing briefly at the bottle. Not bad. He shifted on his feet, still avoiding how he should respond. For now, drinking and staying quiet felt like the safest route.

Twisting the cap back on, he gave a curt nod, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of exhaustion. “I wouldn’t actually go into the woods—at least not alone,” he admitted truthfully, grimacing at the idea of willingly walking through the woods.

The thought of facing a bear—or any wildlife, really—was enough to keep him from impulsively reacting. As much as Levi wanted to search for Lisa, charging headfirst into the woods without a plan would only make things worse.

She’d kill me, he thought, the realization bittersweet. Straight up murder me if I wound up dead doing something so stupid.

He shook the thought away, refocusing on Clarisse’s comment instead. “Thanks for the update—by the way,” he said, his tone casual but edged with a hint of surprise. It caught him off guard that she’d remembered, let alone shown up today. The invite he’d tossed her way during dinner had been more about keeping the peace than expecting her to take it seriously. Yet here she was.

“She did tell me,” he continued, his gaze drifting momentarily before landing back on her. “And I don’t think she was wrong for warning people. The yelling, though? That felt like overkill. Dramatic much?”

Smarter person than I ever will be. The words went unspoken at Levi’s comment. Had it not been for the more level-headed people around her, Clarisse was sure she would have wound up falling off a cliff in her desperation the previous year.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like the campers don’t tell each other those stories,” she said with a dismissive shrug. If rumors spread like wildfire within the camp, then something of this caliber would be hard to keep under lock and key. From their lunch alone, Clarisse had already heard whispers coming from older kids about what could have possibly happened— stupid things like alien kidnappings or some hillbillies getting to them. “Best to just get it from a more reliable source.”

She scoffed as her thoughts veered back to Marquis, a fresher wound than most. “Who knew he had a flair for dramatics? Thought he liked keeping things on the down low.” It was a wonder why he suddenly had an emotional flair-up now; then again, she supposed that was the natural consequence of keeping things bottled up for a long time. “You reckon they’re fine now?” They were the crisis team after all and Clarisse couldn’t imagine being in an enclosed space with someone she had a problem with for an extended amount of time. Even during her time working with Rowan, they could use the field, or Ricky, as a physical distance.

No thanks to Renee.

The thought burned at the back of his mind, simmering on the tip of his tongue. But Levi forced it down, swallowing the biting words before they could escape. What good would it do to start more trouble, to throw Renee’s name onto the ever-growing pile of chaos that today was already shaping up to be? None. He let the frustration linger, a smoldering ember, as he shifted his focus to the conversation at hand.

“Liberty probably meant it as a warning,” he said, his voice measured as he gestured broadly with one arm, motioning towards the woods and the open expanse of Camp Evergreen. “Giving her a choice in…all of this.”

His words hung in the air, second guessing the contract he had discussed earlier with Elodie. Not like a choice mattered, anyway. He glanced back, his tone softening slightly as he added, “You’re right about a reliable source. Just want the rumor mill to die down, and for good.”

It was wishful thinking. She was aware that Renee fed said rumor mill relentlessly, but there would always be someone to take over that seat. People thrived off of playing the telephone game until the truth was a figment of what it truly was. Still, she didn’t say anything, deep inside knowing that she wanted the same thing. For the damn rumors to stop.

Levi mirrored her scoff at the mention of Marquis, his expression shifting to a snort of agreement at her choice of words. “Seriously—the way everyone got so quiet in the Hall? Awkward as fuck. And just…really unnecessary.” It was clear in his tone, the frustration that he wasn’t allowed to jump in during dinner, even if his bias was clear—he’d always side with Liberty in the end. “For her sake, I hope so, since they work together. Also hoping he doesn’t try pulling a stunt like that again—”

He cut himself off, his attention snapping to the middle of the field. “Wait, is that Hugo?”

Standing off to the side as the campers busied themselves, Levi watched with mild amusement as Hugo marched begrudgingly through the middle of the field, toolbox in hand. “He looks exceptionally happy today.” Or maybe just upset about Lisa—or that’s…just his face.

His brow raised slightly as the taller man intercepted a stray ball, only to stubbornly kick it down towards the lake. “I’m sure Ricky has that covered.”

Clarisse agreed, nodding along to the older counselor. She could remember how he wanted to step in, to say something, but Leon had quickly intercepted. It wouldn’t do any of them any good for a fight to break out then and there. There was something itching at the back of her mind, Levi and Liberty’s attitudes were so familiar. It was almost as if—

At the mention of Hugo, Clarisse’s thoughts broke as she focused on their groundskeeper who grumpily made his way through the field without giving way to the campers. “Really? I can’t tell.” And she was honest about that. She was fond of Hugo, his straightforward attitude made every interaction with him easier but she couldn’t count how many times she had to apologize for a stray ball hitting him or any of his items while they were playing. She could never be sure if he was upset with her or was just tired in general because he had been in this camp for so long.

She let out a short chuckle when Hugo kicked the ball away, watching it roll away from the confused and surprised campers. They said nothing against Hugo, probably too afraid to say anything. “I think he’s a little upset with us. Don’t you?” For the first time during their interaction, she seemed completely relaxed, finding something comforting in the fact that Hugo was still himself. That at least someone didn’t change all that much.

“Oh, definitely. Who the fuck decided to place sports in the middle of the camp, anyway?”

“Mr. Jonathan and I have not stopped questioning it since.”

They both watched as the groundskeeper trudged off, Levi’s gaze lingering briefly on the toolbox swinging at his side. Wondering what he was up to made him somewhat curious, but he brushed it aside before it could sink its teeth in. He wasn’t the type to give into nosiness—something he wished half of this camp would stand by.

Turning back to Clarisse, he raised a brow, a question hovering just behind the look. “You planning on heading to truth or dare tonight?” He paused, recalling how Leon dropped the news, disappointed in his close friend. “Surprised it wasn’t cancelled, since…well. You know.”

She shifted, clearly not expecting the question at all. “I thought it would be too,” she murmured with a shake of her head. It was still something she couldn’t really wrap her head around. Technically attendance was mandatory but she doubted Leon would be upset if anyone decided to sit it out because of the current situation. Realizing that she had stayed silent for too long, she cleared her throat. “Er yeah, I will be. Joey wanted to go and we need a costume so…”

Cautiously, she turned to him fully. “Are you going?” One of his closest friends had just disappeared but it was still his best friend that had proposed for it to continue in the first place. Clarisse didn’t envy the position Levi was in.

“Joey? She’s here—back?” A flicker of surprise softened his typically cold, stony expression as he tried to recall this morning’s breakfast and orientation. Levi’s thoughts drifted, piecing together flashes of blonde hair, stolen waffles, and the upsetting news about Lisa.

“I must’ve missed her name being called…” he mumbled, his voice trailing off. The thought of seeing her again improved his mood slightly, wondering who else would be joining the run into Easthallow. I miss her chaotic energy.

Are you going? “Am I invited? Mind if I just tag along? I could help Leon pick up some drinks for tonight.” He let out a brief snort, shifting his weight and glancing out at the field, making a visible effort to appear responsible. With a casual nod, he added, “At least you can finally drink this year. Twenty-one, right?”

“Yeah. I bumped into her on my way here and she was talking about getting costumes together and you know it’s hard to say no to her.” Clarisse spoke of Joey fondly as she always did. Her presence had been extremely welcome during this time and she could confidently say she was looking forward to doing something for the day.

“It’s an open invitation, of course you can.” Seeing him shifting, Clarisse’s attention snapped back to the kids who were doing rather well during their drills. Some of them were lazily doing it but, well, at least they were still doing it and Clarisse couldn’t blame the less athletically inclined for doing the bare minimum. She snickered at Levi’s question, though a little bit surprised he remembered. “Legally, yeah. I can actually go and buy the drinks now.”

“She seemed alright?” With the…news about Lisa? Levi’s voice dipped slightly, the weight of guilt pressing against him. He had introduced Joey to Lisa, watched the two hit it off, and now their friend was missing, what the fuck. He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought aside before it could take hold further, opting instead for a small, tight smile in response to Clarisse’s snicker.

“I’m sure Leon would love the extra pair of hands—for some reason, we always run out of alcohol during truth or dare,” he added, forcing a bit of humor into his tone. “Thanks, though, for letting me invite myself.”

Clarisse nodded. “Mm, not… not entirely sure if she knows? She wasn’t at the orientation.” She hadn’t had time to ask Joey before they had to split due to their scheduling. Hopefully, Joey was already finishing up with her own activity so they could head into the town and get the shopping down. She could find out then. “Always happy to lend a hand to Leon. He needs it,” she muttered the last part. She had always reserved time to help Leon out whenever Renee started to send him on errands, just to lighten the load a little bit when she was free.

Glancing down at his watch, he noted the time and gave a subtle nod. “Let's quickly say bye and explain to Ricky. I’m sure they won’t mind,” He didn’t want to just up and leave Rowan behind—knowing his close friend was still very much feeling the same way he felt.

With a sharp whistle, he caught the group’s attention, motioning for them to wrap it up. Levi rolled the soccer ball under his foot once a camper kicked it in his direction, letting it settle before tipping it up and catching it in one smooth motion. Tossing the ball back and forth between his hands, he turned to Clarisse with a slight grin, letting the feeling of old times catch up with him. “Let’s go,” he said, making his way to join the rest.

“Wow, show off,” Clarisse said, playfully giving him a small smile at his actions before nodding and following him to Ricky and Rowan. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be around Levi again. Maybe he really did change in the few years since then.
____________________________________________

Ricky noticed Clarisse and Levi seeming to hit it off with a small smile, glad that despite everything they were getting along. He glanced at Rowan, figuring the least he could do was attempt to engage him. Ricky had been meaning to check up on him, both because he missed his friend and because he was concerned for him. Due to his connection to both Paige and Lisa, Rowan must be one of the most impacted by the latest disappearance. And Ricky hadn’t even reached out yet. God, he really should actually talk to his friend instead of putting all of his attention on the campers. There was no time to talk to Rowan like the present.

Once the kids were fully immersed in the activity, Ricky headed towards Rowan. He knew he hadn’t spoken with the guy a ton during the previous summer due to his issues with Paige, but they were still friends. He gave him a small smile as he approached his friend. “Hey, Rowan,” he said, though his train of thought was interrupted by Hugo barging across the field, shoving campers out of his way. What had him so worked up? He watched as the guy kicked a ball away from one of the kids, making Ricky frown. “Uh…You saw that too, right?”

Rowan’s attention was elsewhere as Ricky started the kids on the activity. He sat up the cones while Ricky talked the kids through, then stood off to the side, arms crossed, and watched as they did their drills. He tried to seem engaged although his thoughts were in the past, thinking about Paige and about how familiar this all was feeling to last year. He felt lost now, like he had back then. He had always pent up his emotions, left them behind a sealed door until they couldn’t be held anymore and then spewed all over anybody who was near.

Paige had helped him learn better ways to cope, and when she’d disappeared, it was like everything he’d learned had disappeared too. Now, with Lisa being gone, it all flooded back, covered in a layer of anger at everyone for failing not only Paige, but Lisa, and any of the counselors who could be the next victim. He felt like he was a part of that, like he wasn’t doing enough to protect them, to find them. What am I supposed to do?

He glanced up as he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, thoughts interrupted first by Ricky coming over to him and beginning to speak, and then by Hugo’s aggressive tromp through the field before kicking a kid’s soccer ball towards the lake and stomping away. Though usually friendly, sometimes the mountain of a man had a bone to pick and Rowan wondered what was on his mind. Though he was sure Lisa’s disappearance was weighing on him as well… perhaps he’d check on him later or see if Riley had.

For now, he turned his attention back to Ricky and uncrossed his arms, not wanting his friend to think that he was trying to ice him out. Ricky and Rowan’s friendship had been a bit rocky last summer, and for the past year Rowan had been quite closed off except to a small handful of people, so there hadn’t been much opportunity to mend anything. Even though Rowan might resent it, perhaps he should try to be a bit more open to Ricky’s optimism.

“Yeah, I wonder what his problem is…” He watched for a few moments as the camper who’s ball had been kicked away rejoined the drills with a new one and then glanced back at Ricky. Did he have something else to say? “Anyway… How’s it going?”

Ricky blinked, glancing back at his friend and realizing he hadn’t really said anything after the comment about Hugo. Man, he was bad at this. He was still working on finding the right balance of empathetic but not pitying after the events of the last summer, and the fact that their friendship had been a bit up and down didn’t exactly help matters. For a brief, horrible moment, Ricky wondered if Paige being gone would make it easier to repair the damage done last summer before he banished the thought. No, he couldn’t think like that. Despite some of her actions, Paige had not deserved her fate. A fate that Ricky still wasn’t certain of.

But back to the man in front of him. He wasn’t one to be spacey during a conversation, so he did his best to focus on his friend and tried not to think about the situation. He had to focus on repairing his friendship and keeping the kids entertained. He didn’t want them to suspect anything was up.

“I mean, as good as I can be,” he replied, trying to keep up his optimism while being respectful about how Rowan must be feeling. If he were completely honest, Ricky did feel uneasy and anxious, but he wasn’t about to unload that on someone who was certainly feeling worse. “Um, how are you?” Is that a stupid question? He wasn’t sure. At least Rowan had done the courtesy of asking first, so Ricky felt marginally less dumb for it.

Rowan shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek anxiously, the minutes passing by at what seemed like a snail’s pace. He didn’t want to get into the deep details of his feelings, unsure how he would even unpack them to begin with, much less to the ever optimistic Ricky. He could hear it in his head now – Ricky assuring him that it wasn’t his fault, ‘there’s nothing you could do.’ That would’ve been a deeply unsatisfying answer last year. This year, he was sure it would set him off.

“I’m getting by,” he managed, as he turned his attention back to the kids and their soccer drills. The tension hung between them for a few moments before he cleared his throat, wanting to fill the silence with something. “You, uh, planning on going to Truth or Dare tonight?” He was sure that Ricky was, his friend was usually into the whole dressing up thing. Plus, it was technically mandatory. He wasn’t sure how much he cared this year.

Ricky cast a glance back at the kids before looking back to Rowan, thinking for a moment. He wasn’t sure it was much of an option, considering it was mandatory every year. Still, maybe some levity was what everyone needed? Though as much as he wanted to believe that, there was a part of him that figured the tradition might only serve to remind people of last year, therefore reminding them of the missing girls. Though Ricky wasn’t a huge fan of placing the event right after the devastating news about Lisa, the least he could do was show up to be there for his friends. He would try to be bubbly like usual, of course, but if someone needed to talk about things he would be there for them. Or at least try.

In the end, he decided to say, “I mean, Leon didn’t exactly give us much choice, did he?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he did so. He seemed to do that a lot now that it was getting long. It was an anxious tick he was only half-aware he’d been developing. “But who knows? Maybe it will be good for everyone.” He shot his friend another smile, this one shakier than the last. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

Rowan nodded at Ricky’s response – it’s what he expected, was probably the opinion that most of them held. Still, he felt like it still being mandatory this year was a kick in the face. What if he wanted to wallow in his own self pity like he had been for the last year? How could he be expected to have fun and be a part of things?

“No, he certainly didn’t…” Rowan said, his lips in a terse line as he glanced down at his feet and kicked the ground with his shoe to free some of the awkward tension in his body. He didn’t want to be like this – didn’t want everyone to feel like they had to be on eggshells around him, but he couldn’t help but balk at the unfairness of it all. Maybe he should just shove his personal feelings about it down and try to pretend like their tradition might be a salve to the emptiness he was feeling.

“Yeah, maybe,” he conceded to Ricky’s optimism, not entirely convinced but trying to placate the storm swirling inside of him. “It just won’t be the same.”

Ricky nodded, running a hand through his hair. Rowan was right about that; without three of the previous counselors, things would definitely be different, especially considering the circumstances in which they had disappeared. It would be insane to expect things to be exactly the same. Still, part of Ricky craved the normalcy in the midst of the tumultuous summer, and he was curious what exactly would go down at this year’s truth or dare. But most of all, he was nervous that something bad would happen, and he felt obligated to be there in an attempt to mitigate it. Someone had to.

“That’s true,” he agreed, glancing at his friend. While he had been doing his best to be careful and not upset him, Ricky couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t have been just as upset in Rowan’s place. The last thing he wanted was to alienate the guy, and he tried his best to let his friends know that he was always there for them, no matter what. So he hoped Rowan still understood that, despite their friendship having been a bit rocky the previous summer. Before he could think of more to say to try and lighten the mood, he saw Levi making his way over and waved.

Making his way over to Ricky and Rowan, Levi casually tossed the ball in Rowan’s direction, huffing out a laugh once it was caught. “Clarisse and I are done with the drills,” he said, smacking his lips before gesturing behind him with a thumb. “Thinking about heading to Easthallow for some costumes. You guys need anything?”

Rowan looked across the field at the sharp whistle his friend emitted, one side of the field beginning to wrap everything up. The campers on their side also heard Levi’s whistle and looked at the two of them expectantly for a similar instruction to be done, so Rowan gave them a nod to start wrapping up. Soon after, Levi and Clarisse made their way towards him and Ricky.

Before he even realized Levi tossed a ball in his direction, his reflexes kicked into gear and he caught it effortlessly, wincing a bit at the raw stinging on his scraped hand. He tucked the ball under his arm and considered his friend’s question. He honestly hadn’t even decided if he was going yet. Everything in him said he shouldn’t, it wouldn’t be the same. It would feel so hollow without Paige and Lisa. How could everyone just pretend like it wouldn’t?

Still, maybe he’d feel differently later. He could at least go for his friends or the sense of normalcy that drove him back to camp in the first place. That seemed like wishful thinking now. He supposed he’d rather have a costume than nothing. Though even putting his regular clothes on felt a bit like an ill-fitting costume lately.

“Maybe,” he hesitated. “D’you mind getting me something just in case? Something simple.”

“Sure, I’ll figure something out for you. As long as you trust me.” Levi let a smile break out as he aimed it at Rowan, sensing the hesitation in his friend’s stance. He wanted to at least improve his mood before heading out.

“Hopefully the thrift shop in town is stocked—would hate to come back with something pink for you to wear.” He reached out to pat Rowan on the shoulder before stepping back, “Try not to miss me too much.”

“You know I trust you about as far as I can throw you, Jackson.” Rowan said, allowing a hint of a genuine smile to play at his lips. Things wouldn’t be the same, but maybe there really had been a good reason for him to come back to Camp Evergreen.

He rolled his eyes at Levi as the giant patted him on the shoulder. “Bring me something pink and I’m definitely not coming.” He waved his friend off of him and snorted at his final statement. “You know I hate to see you go.”

code by valen t.
 
MOOD: awkward, tense, uncomfortable

OUTFIT: n/a

LOCATION: Survivalist area
basics
MENTIONS:
Ezzy ocie ocie

INT:
n/a
tags
TL;DR Two high school exes and childhood friends try to act friendly towards each other and have an awkward conversation while getting the Survivalist Area ready for the campers.
tl;dr
Awkward Reunion 3: The Squeakquel
ricky and ezzy
After the awkward mess of an activity that was sports, Ricky just needed a break. It was difficult work keeping up his usual cheer in light of the current events, and he wanted to get a breath of fresh air, alone for once. As much of an extrovert as he was, sometimes being alone was nice; it allowed him to drop any pretenses he felt the need to keep up around the others. Though it wasn’t as if he could really say he was having a tough time in comparison to Connie or Rowan. Oh god, Connie. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling right now, and he hoped against hope that this stuff with Lisa was all a fluke and she would appear at camp tonight for truth or dare, laughing that everyone had fallen for such an obvious lie.

But something told him that wasn’t the case. He’d remained cheerful as he had exited the sports field, saying hello and goodbye to campers as he passed them on their way to the next activity or towards their cabins. One thing was for certain, and that was that the kids were always his first priority. They didn’t have to catch onto the events at camp, but hopefully no further events would happen. Maybe next year Mr. Evergreen would have the good sense to close the camp to let the news from the disappearances die down and make sure the camp was safe. But he wouldn’t be around for that. He couldn’t even feel sad about this being his last summer at Evergreen when little by little, this place that he’d loved and had been a second home to him was slowly starting to feel foreign.

He hadn’t even noticed he was on the survivalist trail until he blinked back to the current moment, walking through the woods with the sun shining through the trees. Maybe it was a force of habit, maybe it was him trying to take his mind off of the current events with a bit of physical exercise. Maybe it was even the memories he had from this particular section of camp, the way that he’d only really let go of the firm grip he kept on his expression when he was alone in the woods like this. At any rate, the cool air in the shadow of the trees felt nice. It was good to physically distance himself from everything going on. Surely he would be back to his normal self after a quick break of light hiking, fixing how off kilter he felt after talking to Rowan (and they hadn’t even been talking about anything weird, either). But just seeing the aftermath of a third disappearance within two years–it was impossible to remain completely unaffected.

He hummed the melody to a song that he’d been listening to a lot recently, another semi-old tune from the ‘80s. Twisting in the water, you're just like a dream. Sure, The Cure was goth music, but they had some bangers. He closed his eyes for a moment, peaceful.

Ezzy had been more than a little distracted since coming to camp. Eva’s concerns about his ability to perform his job were not entirely baseless, it seemed. When Renee and Paige went missing, the appropriate dread had stirred in Ezzy’s stomach—mostly for Paige—but when he heard Lisa had met the same fate, it felt like the scales finally tipped and his whole world shifted in an eerily familiar way.

There were too many disappearances for it to be a coincidence. Even when it was just his brother who was missing, Ezzy had been on the warpath to proving it wasn’t an accident. Now, he felt more certain than ever. He didn’t have room in his head to think about much else, though he knew how thin the ice he stood on with Eva was and was careful to keep his thoughts to himself. He wasn’t sure how well he’d cope with being kicked out of camp before he even had a chance to investigate.

It was hard to scrape together enough focus to run activities and play his part as if nothing was wrong. Ezzy didn’t want to throw himself into work or take his mind of Lisa. It felt wrong to even think about it. Everything else just seemed unimportant compared to trying to solve the case. Lisa could still be alive somewhere, waiting to be found. It was the not knowing that ate away at him.

Ezzy could feel old habits creeping back—losing himself in thought more and more, biting his nails just to have something to do. He was even waking up in a cold sweat some nights with a shadowy figure burned into the backs of his eyes.

It wasn’t until halfway through the day that Ezzy finally pushed himself to put together the next activity for the survival portion of the day. Building a shelter was one of the ones he’d liked as a kid as well as a counsellor. It was always amusing to see what the campers came up with.

Ezzy set about walking around the forest, collecting logs and sticks and dragging them over to a tree that looked like it would make a good support for a lean-to. As per usual; he hadn’t left himself enough time and he was already drawing in laboured breaths and sweating more than he would’ve liked from running around and hauling in sticks.

A figure caught his eye out deeper in the forest, and hope flickered in Ezzy’s chest. It looked like a counsellor, not a camper, and that meant it was someone who could help.

“Hey,” Ezzy called as he jogged lightly towards them, the flicker of hope melting into regret as he got a closer look and realized who it was. He hesitated, caught between the overwhelming urge to retreat and the fact that Ricky had most likely heard or seen him already.

He couldn’t just leave. They were supposed to be friends, that’s what they had agreed to be, even if neither of them acted like it much. Ezzy released a deep inwards sigh. It was too late to back out now. They could keep pretending to be friends long enough to get his activity set up anyway.

“Do you have a minute?” Ezzy stood in front of Ricky and lightly tapped his shoulder. “I may uh… Need some help building a shelter.”

He paused, unsure whether that was enough information.

“Not for me,” he added for good measure, only to immediately back track. “Well for me, but as an example for the campers. Not to… live in.”

Ezzy had to physically stop himself from hitting the palm of his hand against his forehead, instead shifting his weight from one foot to the other and holding Ricky’s gaze so as not to be weird about it.

Ricky glanced up at the interruption, stopping his humming mid-line. The voice was so familiar it only took his brain a second to place it, slotting the details into place as he took in his friend’s appearance. Well, someone who called a friend, but definitely not someone he had been itching to spend time with this session. Two run-ins with my exes in the same day. Does god hate me or something? He snorted internally at his own joke, but he knew that his own discomfort paled in the scope of the mixture of grief and fear in the wake of Lisa’s vanishing. And he was certain Ezzy knew it as well. Besides, he’d chosen to come back to camp this year knowing both Connie and Ezzy would be here.

As Ezzy explained the situation, Ricky tried not to smile at the bit of rambling he started to do. He figured what Ezzy meant at first when he said he needed help with building a shelter, considering he had been a survivalist counselor last year. Though his continual explanation was very like him; it warmed Ricky up a bit to the fact that he would be working with Ezzy one-on-one for a few minutes. Because of course he’d say yes. He was never one to let down someone asking for help. It just wasn’t in his nature.

“Hey, Ezzy. Yeah, I have a minute,” he responded when Ezzy finished speaking, giving him a small smile. Despite his mixed feelings about interacting with Ezzy right now and how off-kilter the day had made him feel, he was going to be nice if nothing else. Besides, he knew that Ezzy had been close with Lisa, and part of Ricky genuinely wanted to check up on him. Maybe this fateful meeting was a good thing, after all, since it meant Ricky wouldn’t have to seek him out to subtly see how Ezzy was doing (though Ricky was not exactly the master of subtlety in the first place).

“And, uh, I’m happy to help, just lead the way,” he added, in case his intentions weren’t already clear. He ran his hand through his hair, figuring he should probably just put it up at this point to get it out of the way. At this length, strands tended to fall into his eyes, and he wondered once again if he should cut it short so the curls would be off of his neck and therefore less of a hassle.

Ezzy couldn’t help but be relieved when Ricky said he would pitch in. He would have also been relieved if Ricky had hung him out to dry too, only for entirely different reasons, but on some level Ezzy knew Ricky would say yes. He always did. There was a kind of bittersweet comfort in knowing that Ricky hadn’t changed a bit.

“Great,” he said, returning a smile and turning on his heel to head back to his dismal unconstructed shelter. He glanced behind him to make sure Ricky was following, noticing the way his hair fell in front of his eyes and letting his gaze linger for a moment. He had always liked Ricky’s hair better long, even if it was harder to deal with. Part of him wanted to ask what he was planning to do with it now. Maybe convince him that it was worth it to keep it the way it was.

“I have a bunch of logs and stuff,” he said instead, turning back to face forward and watching the ground as he walked to make sure he didn’t trip. “We just have to put everything up. You remember how to do it, yeah?” He asked, glancing over again as his sad pile of sticks came into view a little ways away. He was positive Ricky had made a dozen shelters as a camper—they had probably made one together as kids just for the fun of it at some point—but he figured he’d ask anyway. “Or do you want a refresher course? I’m pretty good at those, or I should be at least.”

Ricky hadn’t had to do survival stuff in a while, including building a shelter. The last time he had done so was probably when he was a camper, since he’d never been assigned to the Survivalist position. He had done a lot of work as a Sports counselor, and he was pretty consistent about his duties in that area considering that was where he’d been assigned nearly every year. And truth be told, he did like it. It was what he was familiar with, and the campers that did Sports usually seemed to like him. So truthfully, it was a win-win.

But while he was mostly sure he could build a shelter with Ezzy’s help, he didn’t want to make Ezzy take the brunt of the work. Even if it was technically Ezzy’s job and not his, he had offered to help which meant he wanted to do an equal amount of work. So ended up giving the guy a sheepish smile. “If you don’t mind giving me a quick refresher, it would really help. I haven’t built one of these things in a while.”

Hopefully once Ricky started working, muscle memory would kick in, because truth be told, his brain was a bit frazzled at the moment. But for the sake of helping a friend, he would do his best to put his raging torrent of thoughts aside.

Ezzy was almost grateful to have something to talk about and fill the silence with, especially something that he knew so well. He had had a brief end-of-the-world survivalist phase as a teenager in which he’d done far too much research. It came in handy now though.

“Alright, so we’re going to build a lean-to,” he began, slipping into his camp counsellor voice without noticing as he recalled the same speech he gave every time he led the activity. His voice was firm and raised but had a welcoming note to it. He could almost pretend it wasn’t Ricky he was talking to.

“You find a Y shaped tree like this one here.” He walked over to the tree he’d chosen, giving it a light pat on the trunk, then leaned over and picked up one end of the thickest branch that lay on the floor. “We just have to put this one through the Y…” It wasn’t too difficult to hoist it up himself and slip the branch between the others. “And then line the sides with sticks that are the appropriate height.”

Ezzy gestured vaguely to the mess of different branches, logs and sticks scattered around. As a demonstration, he picked up one and placed it so that it stood upright while leaning on the main branch for support.

“The leaves come after but we’ll deal with that later.” Ezzy tried to remember if there was anything else important, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he glanced around, but nothing came to mind. He looked up at Ricky for the first time since he launched into his activity spiel, his voice melting back into its regular cadence and tension settling back into his shoulders.

“Sound good?”

Ricky nodded, arms folded across his chest while he watched his friend work. It was a bit funny how quickly he had switched into his official counselor mode, voice full of authority as he spoke. It was a side of him that, despite being coworkers for years, Ricky hadn’t often seen, just because of how little their duties seemed to intersect at camp. But he didn’t dislike it, and he was almost able to pretend that they were just two coworkers who didn’t have so much history together for a few moments. It was weird, but not entirely unwelcome.

At the end of Ezzy’s little spiel, Ricky nodded. He probably could have done that, but knowing him he would start to work and then immediately confuse himself in the order of steps or placement of sticks. Ah well. It was definitely for the best that Ezzy had been willing to give that refresher. Now it should be easy for Ricky to follow along from the instructions given, since he was a pretty quick learner when it came to hands-on stuff (not as much history or math, but that wasn’t his problem today).

Though he had noticed a small smile forming on his face during Ezzy’s demonstration, his expression was carefully neutral by the time the other guy looked up. This simple task would require working with his hands in a repetitive fashion, which might allow his mind to wander as he worked, though maybe his mind wandering wouldn’t be the best thing after the day he’d had so far. Leaving his thoughts to wander would inevitably lead him to thinking about Lisa and getting worried about the safety of the camp and his friends. So he could attempt to make small talk. Even though it had been awkward earlier, it would probably be fine now? Hopefully?

“Got it,” he responded, unable to help himself from adding a silly little solute. “Just the one lean-to? Or are we doing multiple? I haven’t worked as a Survivalist counselor before, so I don’t know the protocol.” He glanced over at Ezzy before very quickly looking back at the tree he had been using to demonstrate. Might as well make sure he was doing this right so he didn’t have to drag this interaction out.

“Just the one,” Ezzy confirmed with a nod. “It’ll be the example we show to the kids and then they can—“ he waved over in the general direction of the trees. “Go do their own thing.”

He was only half paying attention to his own words, gathering up sticks and occupying his hands while he spoke, though something else was distracting him as well. The same question as always sat on the tip of his tongue and Ezzy fell quiet, trying to decide what to do with it. Only Ricky could make him think before he spoke. In truth, there was more than one question bouncing around in his head.

How are you doing? What happened with you and Connie? Are you doing alright? Are you seeing anyone else? What were you up to today?

After another moment, Ezzy worked up the nerve to pick just one and ask, carefully making sure his tone was as casual as possible and resisting the urge to look up from where he was placing a couple of branches. This would be casual? Right? Friends asked other friends these kinds of things? It might even be more awkward if he didn’t address the elephant in the room.

“Heard about you and Connie,” he said as neutrally as possible. “Sorry, man. How have you been?”

Ricky had started to pick up sticks, mirroring Ezzy’s movements for a moment before fully concentrating on the task at hand. For a brief few seconds, he thought maybe working in tandem wouldn’t be so bad, really. He found that without even trying, they seemed to work well together, already starting to make the lean-to look more finished and demonstration-ready. Then Ezzy brought up Connie.

He glanced up, startled at the mention of his ex’s name from Ezzy’s mouth. He had done his best to act like everything between the two of them was perfect when Ezzy was around, something in him having to prove that Ricky could be a good boyfriend when given the chance, but he hadn’t wanted to think about it too deeply or he didn’t know where his mind would go. There was still a tiny part of him that felt guilty about how things had ended between the two guys, like maybe if he had just done more they would be alright. But his posturing with Connie had probably only served to make him look even more like an idiot to Ezzy, considering he and Connie’s break up last summer and how quickly word has spread about that. He really couldn’t keep a relationship, could he? At least Ezzy was being nice about it.

“I’m doing okay,” he responded after a moment, giving Ezzy a smile to show he meant it, though it was a bit strained. Not the conversation topic I would have chosen, but he’s probably–hopefully–just concerned. I mean, Connie and I dated for a while.

He continued to work as he spoke, turning to grab another stick before looking back at Ezzy. “I ran into her today, actually. It went pretty well. I think we might be on the road to being friends again.” This time his smile really was genuine. The thought of them being on good terms really did make some weight fall off of his shoulders. He’d missed Connie, though maybe not the actual romantic aspect as much, but he valued her opinion and wanted to know she was doing alright. He had always enjoyed their friendship, and he wondered if it would be possible for them to have a similar sort of friendship that they had prior to dating.

Part of him wanted to keep talking and share all of the details about his and Connie’s relationship with Ezzy, but something stopped him. He didn’t ask to hear you ramble about how excited you are that you can be friends with your other ex. Though he did have to add the part about being friends, because he instinctually wanted to reassure Ezzy that there were no romantic feelings lingering there. He turned back to grab some more sticks off the ground to hide the warmth that creeped onto his face for no good reason. Ezzy had a special talent for making him think too much about every specific word he said and get flustered over it.

Ezzy had to refrain from probing more, a shadow of doubt crossing his mind. Maybe it was inappropriate to pose a question like that and the simple act of asking had just exposed all his lingering feelings. His curiosity was overwhelming, but his fear of Ricky seeing right through him was stronger and Ezzy swallowed the rest of his questions.

Ezzy was never one to hide his feelings. He wasn’t accustomed to it and part of him—a tired, fed up part of him—just wanted to give in and say exactly what was on his mind. Stop thinking and just be. But another part of him couldn’t do it. Vulnerability didn’t come easy around Ricky anymore.

“That’s good,” he said, even though he felt a twinge of disappointment that was followed immediately by a sting of guilt. He didn’t miss the genuine smile on Ricky’s face or the way he talked about her. He knew he should be happy for Ricky, and he wanted to be, god knows he wanted to be, but he couldn’t ignore the little part of him that wasn’t. It was the same part that had been relieved when him and Connie had broken up. “Hope you guys figure it out. Connie seems like she’d be chill about it.”

She did, admittedly. Ezzy hadn’t interacted with Connie very much, despite his urge to satisfy his curiosity about her as well. He offered a small smile to Ricky before returning his attention to the shelter as it began to take shape. He felt like he should say more. Or segway into something else. But he couldn’t gather up his thoughts enough to string something together. Unconsciously, he brought one hand up to his mouth and bit at his nails distractedly while he rearranged sticks with the other, hoping Ricky would say something instead.

Hope you guys figure it out. Wait, what did that mean? Ricky frowned, face turned away from Ezzy as he continued with the task at hand. Despite him trying to subtly put an emphasis on him being friends with Connie, he might have sounded too excited. Was it weird that he liked being friends with his exes? Was that a crazy person thing and Ezzy was just trying to be nice about it? Though at first he’d certainly had some lingering feelings for Connie, watching her fall in love with Paige had really started to kill any sense of romance. Besides, he’d had time to reflect on it and realized that maybe they weren’t meant to be anyway, since he had looked back on their friendship fondly even when they were dating. But he didn’t want to overshare with Ezzy. He’d barely even admitted that sort of stuff to people he was currently close to, like Clarisse.

“Yeah, I think she and I are just better as friends, you know,” he added, self-consciously brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. Almost on impulse, he added, “So, have you been seeing anyone?”

He set his bundle of sticks on the lean-to, trying his best to make it look nice. He refused to look right at Ezzy as he asked the question, trying to focus on what he was doing. Was he trying to hide how flustered the topic of conversation made him or just a coward? He had a bad habit of avoiding eye contact during complicated topics. And this shouldn’t be a complicated topic; the two were friends, weren’t they? And it was normal to talk about your relationships with your friends. So why did Ricky dread hearing the answer to his question?

It took Ezzy a moment to process the question, staring down at the shelter for a moment before finally looking up. Luckily, Ricky had his gaze averted elsewhere, but that still left Ezzy with the task of answering the question.

How much should he tell him? Did Ricky know about Ezzy and Billie and was just trying to see if Ezzy would lie about it? No, Ricky wouldn’t do that. The idea spurred about a hundred other possible theories though. There were so many ways Ezzy could respond that it was almost hurting his head. Ricky wasn’t looking at him either, avoiding his gaze like he used to back when they would get into arguments, or maybe it was some other reason entirely. Maybe Ricky didn’t even have that habit anymore. God. Ezzy hadn’t felt this way since high school. He had know idea how other people did this, overthinking everything they said and did.

“Yeah, I was for a bit, but we broke up a few weeks ago,” he said with a dismissive shrug, even though the memory was still fresh in his mind. There was no sting to it though. The end hadn’t been sudden, and as much as it pained him to say it, Ezzy felt better now that it was over. He didn’t seem to be on as great terms with Billie as Ricky was with Connie—from what Ezzy could tell listening to Ricky’s short answer—but Ricky didn’t need to know that.

“No big deal though,” Ezzy added on hastily. It was strange to think that there was a time when Ezzy had told Ricky everything. Every thought that ran through his head or fear that lurked in the back of his mind. “We’re just friends now too,” he said with a feigned indifference, focusing on finding another branch so that he didn’t have to look at Ricky.

Ricky pursed his lips, staring at the lean-to for a moment before moving to go get more branches. He shouldn’t be surprised that Ezzy had been dating other people since they broke up several years ago. The guy was attractive and funny and cool, of course everyone would be flocking to him. It wasn’t like Ricky hadn’t dated other people, though Connie was really the only person that he had been somewhat serious with since then. But he felt a weird mixture of annoyed and relieved, plus a few other feelings he wasn’t able to parse out. That was how it always seemed to be with Ezzy nowadays. He never knew how to feel.

But it wasn’t as if it mattered to him. Really, it wasn’t. Besides, if the two of them were friends, it might be a similar situation to his own with Connie. Just because the break up was more recent didn’t mean he still wanted that person back or anything, right? He snuck a glance to try and see if he could read anything on Ezzy’s face, but his friend was looking away from him, avoiding his gaze just like Ricky had been avoiding Ezzy’s. Though there was so much about him that was familiar, Ricky hated that there was so much that wasn’t anymore. He couldn’t read Ezzy as easily as he used to, back when they were both younger and more open. Ezzy had always been a pretty open guy, so why did he seem so closed around Ricky now? Whatever. Soon they would be done with this and he could ask Clarisse or Leilani their thoughts on the issue. It wasn’t like it would be the first time he’d expressed his confusion about Ezzy to them.

“Yeah, I gotcha,” he responded, unsure whether he was supposed to be upset about the break up of a relationship he hadn’t known about. “Glad you guys are still friends, though. Sometimes it’s just not meant to be, y’know? And you can never have too many friends. Friends are the best.” Was he rambling? He wasn’t sure. His mind was still stuck on the thought of Ezzy dating someone else. God, he needed to change the topic before he ended up giving the world’s shittiest Ted Talk on friendship. At first, he barely spoke at all, but now he was doing anything to not hear Ezzy continue to discuss his relationships. Ricky could not get out of here soon enough, but he’d promised to help, so he would finish the task before he ran off. You’re so good at running away, huh?

He cleared his throat as he brought another couple sticks over to the lean-to. “Um, anyway. I’m assuming you’re going to truth or dare tonight? Considering it’s mandatory and all.”

Ezzy couldn’t tell if the rambling was just Ricky being Ricky or if he was as uncomfortable as Ezzy was and felt the need to perform his reaction too. Then Ezzy wondered if he was just proposing the latter out of wishful thinking. He knew he had brought up the topic of ex’s, but he was relieved when Ricky changed the topic. Or relieved wasn’t quite the word.

“Fu-uhhh,” Ezzy tried to catch himself before he finished the word, stretching the last syllable out to buy himself time to think of a different ending. He had been trying to get in the groove of not swearing for the sake of the campers, but it was too late. His tone rose as if he was going to finish with a different word that started with fuh but fell back to normal halfway through. “Fuck,” he stated simply, all of his disappointment brimming in that word.

“I forgot about truth or dare,” he offered as an explanation, dragging one hand down his face in exasperation. “Someone needs to sedate me, man.” He had been so caught up in thinking about Lisa and the disappearances that his normally scattered thoughts had become lost at sea. Last year hadn't gone great (okay well idk how it went but I have to assume it’s about to be rough). The only spot of hope was that Renee wouldn’t be there this time, but there were other people Ezzy could name that would be more than happy to take the evil queen’s place, and most likely would be. For at least one, he knew he had a target painted on his back. The thought put him more on edge than he wanted to admit, dread flickering across his face.

“Guess I’m going,” he said dejectedly, taking a better look at the shelter. They were making good time, the walls taking shape.

“Do you think it’ll be more or less of a mess now that Renee is gone?” he asked, seemingly in a dry, joking manner, but the question had merit. The answer wasn’t all that clear, at least not to him. “You’re going too, right?”

He glanced up at Ricky, head tilted slightly to one side.

As Ricky looked back from his spot near the lean-to, he locked eyes with Ezzy for several moments before glancing away. The little head tilt he gave was reminiscent of a puppy, almost infuriatingly cute. He bit his lip as he looked back at the lean-to for a moment before finding another stick nearby.

“Yeah, I’m going. Someone needs to make sure no fights break out this year.” He huffed out a laugh, but as he did, thought back to last year when Renee had honed in on Leilani right off the bat. At least her being missing meant that wouldn’t happen this year, causing him a feeling of relief. But it was short-lived, eaten up by the guilt that followed quickly in its wake for ever being happy that someone–even someone as terrible as Renee–was gone. And it wasn’t as if the shadow of Renee wouldn’t continue to linger over the camp in the form of those she had left behind, some of whom were probably desperate to take over the ice queen’s now-vacant throne for themselves. “And I’m going to go with less of a mess, but I’m not confident enough to bet money on that or anything.” At least no one left had the influence Renee used to have, right? He felt more confident standing up to Juliette or Annalise than he did Renee.

“Personally, I’ll consider it a win if there aren’t any reputation-destroying rumors started or fights that get serious,” he added, scratching at the back of his neck after unburdening himself from the stick he’d picked up. “I don’t think that’s a totally impossible wish this year.” I hope it’s not, at least.

“And if anything goes seriously south, you know you’ve got me in your corner if you need it.” He wasn’t totally sure what compelled him to add that last bit, wondering if it was too much, if Ezzy would be laughing with his friends later about his ex-boyfriend’s futile offer of what was probably unnecessary help. But something in him needed Ezzy to know that he was trying at this whole friends thing, at least. No matter what had happened in the past, he would always do his best to make sure Ezzy was okay. Or as okay as he could be, in these circumstances.

Ezzy truly hoped Ricky would be able to keep the night tame. Or have at least some success. God knows the camp had been through enough and a high tension truth or dare was not going to help.

Less of a mess was a bold call. Wishful thinking, maybe? Ezzy would try it out. For Ricky’s sake. He had crouched down at the smaller end of the shelter to put up sticks closer to the ground when he heard the last little bit and stopped mid-movement. Ezzy looked up and blinked once or twice, a light surprise surfacing on his expression. Something twisted in his chest, a mixture of emotions that he couldn’t figure out right then, but he recognized a fleeting hope in the mess of it all.

Ezzy knew an olive branch when he saw one. It didn’t fix everything, but it breathed a little life into the idea that they could get past this and a little optimism was what he needed right then.

“Thanks, Ricky,” he said, his voice a touch softer and a lopsided smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That means a lot.” And it did. More than he was willing to admit. “I’ll hold you to it, though,” he added, pointing at Ricky with his index finger and intensifying eye contact in mock seriousness, as if locking him into a blood pact. For a moment, it felt normal again. Light banter. A little support.

Ezzy offered an easy smile at that before breaking his gaze away and going back to the shelter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine… probably… I hope so.” He sighed, standing back up again and running one hand through his hair as he stared at the shelter. “I don’t know. I feel like we have bigger things to worry about than truth or dare.”

Like Lisa’s disappearance. Paige’s. Emerick’s. As well as one thing Ezzy was certain they had in common.

Ricky smiled at the banter, feeling some weight that he hadn’t known was there lift off of his shoulders. Once upon a time, Ezzy always knew the right words to say to put him at ease or make him laugh, and it appeared that maybe there was still a part of him that remembered. It gave him a warm feeling in his chest, finally starting to replace the sickly ooze of dread he had felt since the news of Lisa’s disappearance. Of course, one good interaction wouldn’t undo that, but it did make part of his profound worry ease, if only a little. He didn’t mind being held to his promise; he didn’t say things like that unless he meant them, whether or not his brain could catch up to his mouth.

But the tail end of Ezzy’s reply did make Ricky’s mind go back to Lisa, once again. And that made him think of Paige, Renee, and Emerick. Of course Ezzy would have been hit harder than anyone else by the news of the disappearances. Ricky suddenly felt like an asshole for not being there for him more, for letting stupid things like hurt feelings get in the way of being a good friend. How could he not have gone out of his way to see how Ezzy was doing, knowing that he would undoubtedly connect these disappearances with Emerick’s? Well, no time like the present to be a better friend.

“You’re right,” he admitted with a small nod. “Truth or dare is probably the least of our worries right now.” He bit his lip again, trying to figure out how to phrase his response without sounding too invested. Obviously, he cared about Ezzy’s well-being, but he didn’t want to sound like an obsessed weirdo. “If you ever need someone to talk to, or anything, I’m here. You know that, right? I mean, I know I just said basically the same thing, but no matter what’s going on between us, you can always come to me.” So much for not looking like you’re obsessed or something.

“If you want to,” he added hastily. Ezzy probably wouldn’t even take him up on the offer, and while his previous statement of a similar nature had been well-received, Ricky felt an embarrassing heat creep up his neck again. You’re overstepping. You’re barely friends anymore; he has other people to be there for him. Like Billie. He shoved the thought away. Ricky didn’t regret essentially reiterating the same message, dumb as it might make him look. He had never been good at hiding when he cared about someone, and with his big heart he started caring about other people so easily. He turned away again, trying to look more busy than he was hunting for another stick to add to the lean-to.

Ezzy almost wanted to walk over and hug Ricky. One of the overwhelming bear hugs he was known for, but the initial wave of gratitude he felt hearing the offer passed almost as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a still tender hurt.

There was no one Ezzy wanted to talk to more than Ricky. Ricky knew Emerick. Knew his parents, his family. He’d seen Ezzy when he was arguably at his worst in the weeks after Emerick disappeared, and if there was anyone who understood what he was going through, it was Ricky. When Ezzy had another nightmare or found another lead, the impulse to tell Ricky was overwhelming, which made it all that much more painful knowing that he couldn’t.

Ezzy fell quiet, expressions passing across his face as he attempted to sort through all his emotions. A bitter resentment was the strongest one he found, the ugly thing forcing its way to the forefront of his thoughts and seeping into his voice.

“I don’t,” he stated flatly, nearly wincing as he heard his own jarring hostility right after Ricky’s compassion, but he didn’t backtrack. He didn’t look up either, not wanting to see the impact of his words. He kept his hardened gaze on the next branch he found, the edges of his next question sharpened to a point. “Would you believe anything I said, even if I did?”

It was a gross overgeneralization. Ricky had always been nothing but unconditionally supportive—except when it came to one thing. The only thing that mattered in Ezzy’s books. Ricky was just like everyone else, gently trying to convince him to let go, only it hurt more coming from him.

Ezzy could feel his old obsession rearing its head again. He wasn’t sure he could call it old though, considering it had never truly gone away in the first place. It was the first thing he thought about in the morning and the last thing he thought of before bed—if he managed to sleep at all, the dark circles under his eyes always ready to make an appearance if he decided to bail on a good night’s sleep and pour himself into research again.

Ezzy didn’t want to admit how much worse he was now compared to even a (few? six?) months ago, before the disappearances. He didn’t want to see that same concerned look on Ricky’s face—the one that made Ezzy doubt himself and wonder whether he really should just let things go. The shrinks his parents had forced him to go to growing up would probably call this a regression, but once he finally figured it out—and he would—it would all be a moot point.

Ricky would only try to stop or distract him and Ezzy couldn’t afford to stop now. Not when he finally had new leads.

Ezzy felt the impulse to say something else. Soften his hostility. Lighten the mood. Cut through the heavy silence he had ushered in, but he didn’t. He just continued putting together the last bits of the shelter. Let them both sit in it.

Ricky blinked at the response, the open hostility piercing right through the flimsy walls he’d built up and hitting him where it hurt. It was times like these where he started to question himself, wondering if maybe he was in the wrong for not entirely being sold on Ezzy’s theories. He believed everything Ezzy said, except for that. As much as he was certain Ezzy believed it, Ricky just couldn’t quite wrap his head around the supernatural, and his confusion, his frustration, his disbelief was what sat at the center of the hole eating its way through his chest. It was an unfortunately familiar feeling. This is why we haven’t had a real conversation. And it was stupid to let himself forget it.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He shouldn’t even be feeling so upset; it wasn’t like he was the one who’d lost a brother. It wasn’t like he was the one who had felt alone and crazy all this time. Maybe Ezzy was right. He was just like everyone else. But he could have his internal crisis somewhere else, without anyone around he could hurt. He’d already done enough to hurt Ezzy; no reason to stick around. His presence was clearly only making things worse. If only he could be better for Ezzy, someone who was actually helpful instead of an idiot trying to pretend he could do anything to make things less awful.

So he quickly finished up with his work, studying the lean-to without looking at Ezzy. Old habits die hard. He only briefly flicked his gaze up to his friend’s, his usual mask back in place, and resolved to get out quickly before he got too earnest and stupid again. “Looks like we’re finished here.” He offered a quick smile in Ezzy’s general direction, this one merely a cheap facsimile of his real smile, real emotions carefully tucked away behind an easy front. “I’m sure the activity will be great.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed off, wondering if there was anywhere in this camp he could truly be alone. All Ricky wanted was to collapse and let himself feel before he ended up hurting the next person in a feeble attempt at helping them, too.

The regret was instantaneous. Ezzy wasn’t sure why he’d said what he said anymore. If he could’ve just gotten a hold on his emotions, he would’ve been able to politely decline. Or say he’d think about it. Or literally anything else. Ricky was trying to be friends, just like they had agreed to be, and he was putting in a helluva lot more effort into it than Ezzy was. Clearly.

He only glanced over at Ricky for a moment, not wanting to look at him for much longer than that. It was hard to watch the way the mask slipped back over Ricky’s features, shutting Ezzy out. Just like Ezzy asked for.

“Thanks,” he said absently, though he was sure it sounded coldly cordial at best. He waited until Ricky turned around to watch him leave, frustration simmering in his stomach. He could still fix this. He could call after Ricky and apologize. Tell him about all the fears and thoughts going through his head. Have Ricky tell him it would all be okay.

Too late. Ricky’s shape grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely through the trees.

“Fuck,” Ezzy half shouted to himself under his breath, kicking the trunk of the Y tree in hopes that that might make him feel better. It didn’t. Unsurprisingly. Just made his foot feel a little numb. He did it again for good measure, a dull pain shooting through his foot.

Next time, Ezzy told himself. Next time he would do better. If there even was a next time. He couldn’t imagine Ricky making the same offer again after being so brutally shot down. Ezzy ignored that thought, forcing himself to put his attention towards the shelter and the final finishing touches. What’s done is done, he supposed.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: leon (feels like a million bucks, baby) billie (looking towards exploring more of this)

OUTFIT: n/a

LOCATION: middle of the camp → wildflower pass
basics
MENTIONS:
lostbird lostbird

INT:
riley, harper, ezzy, connie, levi, clarisse, the evergreens
tags
TL;DR hugo delegates a specific job to leon. seeing billie, he decides to share some evergreen history with the newcomer. both of them realize their feelings for each other are mutual, but discuss certain obstacles in the way.
tl;dr
wildflower pass
billie lennon & leon macmillan
Leon pinches at the skin of his thumb, “come on." Between urging the splinter tucked into the pad of his thumb, somehow going deeper the more he attempts to squeeze the wood free, and keeping an eye out for Hugo, dread filled his chest at the thought of approaching the groundskeeper.

Hugo, without a doubt, was aware of Leon’s fear of him. It wasn’t his choice to reveal the depths of how deeply unsettled he was in Hugo’s presence, but he was hardly one to conceal his true emotions and feelings, despite how plainly he learned to lie over the years. Besides, Hugo had that way about him that naturally had even the bravest shrinking under his watchful eyes—or, eye.

Circling towards the Lodge, intending to find Hugo’s schedule to narrow down his whereabouts, he yelps when the door swings open towards him and the man himself steps through with a duck of his head, cradling a bouquet of flowers in the crook of his elbow. There’s a hefty silence where the two stare at each other and Leon thinks the vocalisation of his fear has finally sealed his fate.

“What are you lookin’ at.”

“Uh—” Leon gulps, his eyes darting away from the phrasing of a statement rather than a question. “Nothing. At all. The flowers, are they…?” What I think they are?

“Mm.”

“When you’re done…” Leon’s hands find their way to his hips, grounding himself with a silent plea, stand your ground for once. “Harper Evergreen is back,” he lets his eyes meet Hugo’s, hoping the weight of those words might overshadow the tension that remains ever-present with them. “She dropped something between the floorboards in the Dining Hall. Think you could uh, help with that?”

Wordlessly, Hugo descends the steps and shuffles the bouquet into his hands, taking care as he passes them to Leon. Wide-eyed, Leon’s eyes trail up from the flower arrangement to Hugo’s face, urging himself not to avert his eyes and cause more offence. It was the closest he’d been to Hugo since he’d seen him at the Boathouse some years ago, blood caked on his sleeves, scratches on his face—

“Starin’ is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“For sure.” Leon takes the flowers and lets his eyes drop, settling on the assortment of white gardenias and lilies. With his injured thumb, he brushes it over the soft petals—a weak attempt to keep his gaze occupied and appear as innocent as possible; a prey not even worth biting into.

“Take ‘em. You know where they go.”

Leon doesn’t perk up until Hugo’s heavy footfalls fade into the distance, muffled by the sounds of campers running and their enthusiastic discussions, hollering over the wind. His breath exhales in a sudden rush, the hand bracketed around the base of the flowers falling meekly to his side. “Jesus.”

Satisfied he’d avoided a near death experience, Leon makes for one of the few trail’s left open for campers and counsellors to traverse—Wildflower Pass. Crossing the distance from the Lodge to the trail in the opposite direction of Easthallow, his eyes fall onto a much more pleasing figure—Billie.

“Billie!” He waves his arm high, the flowers swinging in the wind along with his gesture.

After tidying up the farmyard with Clarisse, Billie headed toward the dining hall, her sights set on grabbing a quick drink before returning to entertain herself with the chickens. Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d spot the dog Clarisse mentioned earlier. Hope they’re adorable, she mused, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Can’t believe I missed out on meeting a cutie patootie.

A shout of her name jolted her from her thoughts. She halted abruptly, shading her eyes with one hand as she squinted, scanning the area for whoever had called out.

And then, speaking of adorable—“Leon!” Her heart gave a little skip, a familiar flutter she promptly ignored. Without hesitation, she broke into a jog, closing the distance between herself and his familiar figure with an easy, carefree stride.

Heart thudding dangerously hard, Leon can’t help but hyperfixate on Billie as she bounds closer, her dark hair swept away from her face, giving him the perfect opportunity to ogle her features. Wow. The wind carries the scent of cucumber and aloe towards him, mixed with the fragrance of fresh soil and chickens. He notices the smears of mud on her pale knees and marvels, how can she make dirt look so cute?

“Hey there, stranger.” Billie greeted him with a smile of her own, immediately gesturing at the flowers in his grasp. “What’s the special occasion, Mr. Big Shot?” she teased, her eyes sweeping over the bouquet. The white blooms, tinged with soft pink, were unfamiliar to her, but their beauty wasn’t lost on her. Whoever those are for, they must be lucky.

Her smile widened as a mischievous spark lit her gaze. “You got a girl I don’t know about?”

You. “Yeah—I mean, no. I’m definitely single.” Leon brings the bouquet up, resting the length in his free palm as he hopelessly backtracks on his slip up. Riley flashes in his mind, a constant reminder of his dumbest mistake. If it weren’t for the flowers in his hand, he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose, why did she have to cry?

“Well… there is a story to share, but no. I don’t have a girl. These are for someone else.” He angles his body away from her, positioned between her and Wildflower Pass, and throws her a charming smile. “Want to join me?”

Thank god. Billie couldn’t stop the snort that escaped, smitten by Leon’s endearing and silly composure. It was almost too much, the way he managed to toe the line between awkward and charming so effortlessly. Adorable.

“Good, ’cause me too,” she hinted quietly, flicking aside a few loose strands of hair away from her face. Was that too forward? The thought lingered, making her bite the inside of her cheek, but she pushed past it, so what if it is?

Leon’s eyes imperceptibly widened—was that a hint? That was a hint. Palms suddenly sweaty, he fiddles with the stem of the bouquet, his fingers pulling and pinching at the mix of cellophane mixed and tissue paper. This should’ve been an eye-opening moment for him, to steer clear from his intuitive feelings with Johanna serving as evidence for his inability to take things slow; so quick to jump headfirst into the deep end, only for it to have been shallow water all along. Billie feels different. That was enough for him.

Sensing the shift, Billie dropped the topic, her eyes narrowing playfully at Leon’s charming smile. Without missing a beat, she nudged her shoulder against his, gentle yet teasing, the coy look in her eyes evident.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” she quipped, falling into step beside him. “Felt like our conversation was cut way too short this morning, which—” She cleared her throat, glancing ahead as the trail twisted into the woods. She had no idea where this path led to.

“Um, I totally sensed all that anxiety earlier this morning. Just didn’t want to point it out and make it worse,” she admitted, mouth twisting to the side in contemplation. Her hands clasped together in front of her, fingers fidgeting slightly as she cast him a side glance.

“Are you…doing better now?” she ventured, her voice softer. Then, after a beat, she added carefully, “do you want to talk about it?”

Leon doesn’t have to close the distance between them, elbows brushing from their closeness as they walk their leisurely pace—slow enough and the sun might disappear altogether, signalling her missing the Farming activity. Would that be so terrible? At least he could spend the entire afternoon with her.

“About that…” he thinks of Juliette’s gentle admonishment of how he’d handled the news, the way Levi stormed out of the Dining Hall with a derisive seriously he knew damn well was aimed at himself—years of friendship left little to no room for error about where Levi’s anger was placed—and the ricochet effect of the counsellors, one by one leaving with their own haughty expressions. “Hope you don’t think less of me for how I handled, uh, that. It was sprung on me at the last second.”

Renee certainly wouldn’t have handled it with any grace at all, but Paige had recommended the Supervisor job to him for a reason—expecting him to have some tact. Failed you already, Paige. Again.

“Not really sure how I feel about it all, if I’m honest.” He reveals carefully, his eyes trained on the path they walk. “Assuming you’ve heard of—y’know, what happened. Renee and Paige. Their disappearance was one thing,” his theory about the lake still held the candle, but the flame flickered unsurely in the wake of another missing girl. “Lisa’s is… I don’t know. Haven’t processed it, I guess.”

Billie scoffed out loud this time, flashing Leon a look that clearly read, don’t be silly, her brows knitting together in mild confusion. “As if I would,” she said, her tone firm but carrying that undeniable softness she reserved for moments like this. “If anything, it just made me feel terrible for you—for the situation you were put in.”

Without much thought, her hand reached out, her fingers carefully wrapping around his wrist as they had earlier, the gesture instinctive. A reassurance, an anchor. “Clarisse told me it should’ve been Eva's responsibility to begin with anyway,” she added, her gaze steady on his, keeping the eye contact as she gave his wrist a slight squeeze.

She listened earnestly, her full attention on him as he spoke, but her fingers slowly released their hold on his wrist, retreating at the mention of the Evergreen girls. Her teeth worried at the already raw flesh of her bottom lip. Should she be honest? Admit she’d heard of the Evergreen girls and the tragedy surrounding them? Would he judge her, knowing she showed up regardless? I don’t want to lie to someone I like, though.

A sigh of relief rips from Leon, his shoulders slumping as the nervous tension releases after her reassurance. She understands. He meets her hazel eyes, the soulful depths swimming with bewilderment, knowing his own revealed a sensitivity he was helpless to keep at bay—and for once, felt no shame by giving into his emotions. Not when her fingers wind around his wrist, tethering the two of them together.

Even as she withdraws her hand—his eyes momentarily dropping to chase the movement, a strange longing to discard the flowers altogether and reclaim the moment—Leon still felt her understanding.

The internal struggle played across her features—eyes darting briefly to his, then back down to the forest floor, as if the ground might offer some answer. Her lips parted, a soft breath escaping before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Leon, I…” Her courage wavered, but the sincerity in his look urged her to continue.

Building back up her courage, Billie took a deep breath—a bit too much, as it came out in an audible gasp of air. “Okay, so—Mr. Evergreen told me everything about Lisa, that she was missing, and that he really needed someone for farming last second.” The words tumbled out quickly, her nerves clear as her hand shot up to twirl a loose strand of hair, a habit she couldn’t seem to shake as she spewed everything out. Her gaze wildly looked around the forest as she spoke, avoiding Leon’s face like the truth might sting more if she looked directly at him.

“I also, um…” she hesitated, her voice dropping slightly as she fidgeted with the strand of hair. “Know about the missing Evergreens. Not much—just that something happened, and Easthallow is nothing but annoyed that he’s, you know,” she gestured vaguely around them, her hands fluttering in an aimless circle, “back and all, with this place open.” Her words softened as she glanced at him this time, her expression cautious and guarded—awaiting for the judgement to cross his face.

At some point during Billie’s explanation, Leon had taken hold of her elbow and slowed their trek down the trail to a complete stop, allowing her to work through the emotions and release the bundle of nerves that mirrored his own.

He studied the caution written across her body, in the pinch of her eyebrows, the frequent gesturing—he zeroed in on that action, reminded of his own inability to sit still—and the complete rush and tumble of words that stream from her mouth, as if they needed to be expelled all at once or they would be forever locked away, never to be spoken of.

“Hope you don’t think less of me, this time,” she added quietly, mirroring back what he had said to her before. Her shoulders drew in slightly as if worried for his reaction, shrinking back into herself just a little.

“Billie.” Adjusting the flowers into the crook of his arm, he steps close—the scent of cucumbers invading his senses as he does—and brings his hands to caress the skin beneath her shoulders. “We all came back. Plenty of us knew the sisters and here we are, despite the circumstances.” He squeezes her arms, pouring his own understanding into the touch, hoping to draw her back out of the shell she was desperately tucking herself into.

“Yeah—fuck, yeah, you’re right.” Billie swallowed hard as she lifted her gaze from the forest floor, hesitant but determined, locking onto his. Slowly, she extended her hand, letting it rest atop his in a gesture of shared understanding, her fingers brushing lightly against his knuckles. I’m okay.

The words echoed in her mind, held back and kept quiet. But are we shitty people for seeing the signs but choosing to look the other way?

“Lisa—” he breaks off, his breath exhaling in a sharp huff. “You did the camp a favour by filling in. Some that were close with her might not think so,” Levi, for one—a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to having. Nothing Leon could say would fix the issue, his words wouldn’t even constitute a bandaid.

“But you have done nothing wrong. And, for what it’s worth—I don’t think it’s remotely possible for me to think negatively about you, Billie. You’re… needed, here.” I need you. He holds back the need to shake his head, moving fast as ever.

He’s being so honest. From where she stood, it was written all over him—his posture, his tone, the way his words carried the weight of genuine care. It warmed her heart in a way that almost made her forget about the heavy topic.

With a watery smile, she brought her free hand away from his to lightly knock into his shoulder, a soft laugh spilling free despite the lump in her throat. For a moment, she fought against the urge to do something silly—something impulsive—but she pushed it aside. Too soon. “You haven’t done anything wrong either. Thanks, though, Mr. Supervisor.”

She released her hold on him, her fingers brushing down to his elbow before falling to her side, remaining for just a beat longer than necessary. “Despite whatever mood you’ve got people in with the announcement of truth or dare—just know you’re needed, too.” At least for me.

Billie pulled away, taking a couple of steps ahead on the trail. Turning back, she threw him a more carefree smile, the tension in her shoulders visibly easing. “So,” she started, a glint of mirth in her eyes as she tilted her head at him. “Where are you exactly planning on taking me? Trusting you and all, since we’re out in the woods. Alone. In the middle of the day. What’s the big idea, huh?” Her tone carried an easy edge now, her mood bouncing back like the Billie he probably—hopefully—expected.

Each featherlight touch left Leon reeling; forced to walk a tightrope, one end supplying a heavy reminder of what falling too fast and too hard will do to a man, and the other—salvation, he decides, prepared to wade through the messes he’d created for one last hurrah, to eat out of the palm of Billie’s hand.

Shaking free the idea of making an ass of himself so soon, Leon follows behind her, a playful but compassionate smile pulling at his features. “We are currently walking on Wildflower Pass,” he kindly informs her, quickening his pace to join her side. “There is a clearing up ahead. It’s soft of an… unspoken rule here, to not tread the trail too often despite the fact it is open for anyone.”

He tells her of the few times campers and counsellors had breached a code of conduct, one that was never verbally stated but inherently known by all that understood what laid ahead—“Renee lost it. I thought she might…” Leon trails off, the intention of his meaning clear.

To this day, Leon was mystified by Renee’s reaction to the vandalism ‘prank’ a friend group of campers hatched up, back when they were teenagers themselves. Renee, by no means, was a kind and compassionate girl—but her family was off-limits; she built walls around the Evergreen name, and then thicker walls around herself.

“It became the activity for the day, to clean up the paint and markers. Sort of like what you heard, in Easthallow,” he explains with a cautious glance at her, gauging her reaction. “Kids painted words like ‘murdered by her husband’, and ‘he liked the mistress better’. Sickening stuff.” It was by no means the start of Renee’s descent into her penchant for bullying, nor did he suspect it was the catalyst—but something had changed in her from that point onwards, a shift he couldn’t place.

Billie gasped softly as Leon finished his explanation, her hand flying to her mouth as her brows furrowed in sadness. “That’s so mean, what the fuck. Kids can be so awful...who would joke about something like that?” Her voice wavered with frustration as she tried to wrap her head around such cruelty. She pressed her lips together, fighting off the frown threatening to overtake her expression.

It was no secret how Renee Evergreen was behind the scenes—the town of Easthallow was well aware of her sharp tongue and the sting of her cutting words. But being here, in the woods, walking alongside Leon, and catching sight of the flowers in his hands, she couldn’t help but think differently of the infamous Evergreen. Only slightly.

“She must have meant a lot to Renee.” Her gaze drifted to the trail ahead, her thoughts distant as she allowed the frown to settle on her face. The contrast between what she knew of Renee because of gossip and what Leon shared was jarring—a stark reminder of how layered people could be.

“Bet she was one hell of a woman, though—their mom,” Billie added, her tone carrying a hint of wistfulness. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone so strong and spirited being the center of Renee’s world.

Near the end of his statement, they reach the peak of the clearing and Leon offers her a resigned smile as she takes in the scenery—a hidden oasis in the Oregon woods, bustling with greenery that bordered on lime instead of olive, wildflowers littering not only the brush but the grass itself. And in the center is Judith’s bench, a hallmark instead of a tombstone.

Upon arrival, Billie took in the sight of the clearing, her breath catching as sunlight streamed through the cracks of the trees, casting golden patches across the lush grass and vibrant flowers. A soft, airy laugh escaped her lips as she turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. This is beautiful.

“This place is beautiful,” she said, her voice light with wonder. Her hand came up to rest on her opposite shoulder as she wrapped herself in an almost self-soothing gesture, a small smile playing at her lips. It wasn’t hard to see why this spot wasn’t frequently visited—it’s a place too sacred to disturb.

“I’d keep this location a secret too,” she admitted, her eyes finally landing on a singular bench—at its center sat a small cluster of forget-me-nots. The sight of the solitary flower arrangement tugged at her curiosity, and she tilted her head, her brows knitting together. Maybe Jonathan stopped by?

Edging closer, Leon places the bouquet of flowers across the seat, and moves backwards to fold his hands at the small of his back. “Jonathan orders flowers for his deceased wife. She was supportive of this, of Camp Evergreen, but she passed very early on in life. He, uh—he doesn’t visit often. I think the reminder is a little much,” it would be for him anyway, Leon gently shakes his head at the thought of visiting a bench in the middle of the woods, a reminder of a love gone too fucking soon and forces himself to look away from the flowers, settling on Billie instead.

“Renee, though? This was the one thing she never argued about. Delivering the flowers.” His lips twitch, reluctantly pulling into a smile. She was human, even if she dared not admit it.

“Renee really did love her mom, huh.” She could feel the weight of the emotion radiating off of Leon, and without thinking, she reached out, her fingers gently curling around his hand instead of his wrist—her thumb rubbing soothing circles against his knuckle. She locked eyes with him, the color of the hazel warm and bright, as if to say, I got you, don’t worry.

“She did.” Leon murmurs in agreement, his eyes focused on the bouquet but his mind a mile away—thinking of what Renee might’ve been like before losing her mother, if what she had become was destined from birth, or created from loss.

He doesn’t jolt when Billie slips her hand into his, the reassuring touch a welcome surprise. There’s a flicker of realisation on his end—surprises were never welcome, alarmingly skittish at the unexpected. His eyes sneakily trail over to Billie before dropping to their joined hands, nothing to worry about, for once.

Turning her gaze back to the bench, Billie let out a sigh heavier than she expected, the weight of it surprising even herself. You’d think being an Evergreen is cursed or something, she thought grimly, her lips pressing into a thin line. Quickly, her eyes darted to Leon, checking his expression to make sure he hadn’t suddenly heard her thoughts, scowling at herself for being so silly for jumping to that conclusion to begin with. The last thing she wanted was to offend him with what felt, to her, like an innocent observation.

“This family has been through a lot,” she finally said, clearing her throat. And enough. There was no mistaking the tinge of sadness in her tone as she turned back towards the bench, the sight of the forget-me-nots and the bouquet adding a quiet poignancy to the moment. It wasn’t judgment, just an acknowledgment of the undeniable scars the Evergreen name seemed to carry.

“Must be the end of it now,” Leon comments, his tone leaning towards finality. A feeble hope. Jonathan Evergreen had lost his fair share, and if karma was real—then maybe it was over for him, for whatever misdeed he’d committed in life to earn the constant trauma and losses.

Spotting the same forget-me-nots, he breaks away from Billie, his fingers untangling from hers reluctantly to gently pluck the bundle of blue petals with a yellow center; resembling a sun. He smirks down at the rather fitting design, retracing his steps to Billie and pulling one of the flowers free.

“This might be one of those moments I’m being mildly offensive, but…” he brushes aside her hair with his knuckles, tucking the stem behind her ear. His eyes rake over her face, greedily taking in the sight of her, the flower, the sun casting an attractive shine over her—Jesus, she’s pretty. “It suits you.”

“Leon—” His name slipped from her lips only to dissolve as his knuckle brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, the touch featherlight yet searing against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, warmth coloring her cheeks, her pulse suddenly roaring in her ears. Oh my god, is he gonna—

Billie stared at him, wide-eyed, her gaze searching his as if trying to decipher his intent. Her brows knit together in anticipation, hands limp at her sides, every muscle in her body tense. Don’t do it. Don’t close the distance, she warned herself—only for him to slip the stem of the flower to rest behind her ear,

It suits you, and it only made her knees feel weaker.

She bit the inside of her cheek, resisting the growing urge to laugh at herself, for expecting a kiss regardless of only knowing him for a couple of hours. He’s going to make this summer such a problem for me, she thought with a mixture of dread and giddy excitement. Looking towards it.

She felt her heartbeat quicken at his fleeting glances—from the flower he had placed and then to her eyes. Billie quickly wet her lips, a nervous reflex, before her features softened into a gentle, honest smile. “Sit next to me tonight,” it was more of a demand, really. “For truth or dare.”

The words hung in the air, and before he could respond, she added, “And—” She let her chin dip, her head lowering slightly as her hazel eyes stayed locked on his, her voice quieter now. “Someone did leave those there, but can’t really mind since it was pretty smooth.”

Blood roars in Leon’s ears, persistent and loudly as he studies her features by the seriousness of her request for him to sit beside her at truth or dare. Not a single part of him wanted to deny her, but he’s thrown as he realises he couldn’t even if he wanted to. How could I ever say no to her? His hand, still suspended in the air beside the forget-me-not he’d placed carefully amongst the curls of her hair, wavers from the sudden urge to caress her face and pull her in—reign it in, Leon. Christ. He drops his hand, fingers combing through the dark locks on the way down.

“Yeah. I have trouble thinking things through,” he admits with a derisive chuckle, turning towards the bench with the single bouquet remaining in place. “Can’t deny the flower looks better on you, though.”

Emboldened by his reaction and feeling as if she were riding a high she didn’t want to come down from, Billie took a step forward. She leaned up, closing the space, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Frozen in place, Leon stares at the bench as if in a trance, she just… kissed—?

Seconds pass by until he tears his gaze away, focusing his attention on her instead, endless questions in his eyes. His mouth opens and shuts, unable to find the words—or, the right words—to speak his onslaught of emotions. Fuck, when did I become so useless. If this was last summer, he would’ve soared forward without hesitation, or contently ran his mouth.

A sourness coated his throat; his whirlwind and catastrophic relationship with Joey upended what he knew, what he was used to—the effortless flirting and charm, acting on his wants because boy, did he understand how short life was. Why question desires when there’d never be enough time to unpack them?

Leon steps forward, the hand holding the small bundle of flowers dropping to his side in defeat, his free hand returning to the side of her face. He waits for the first sign of a refusal, to stop his clear intentions, pressing closer until their noses brush—and pulling back sharply, dread colouring their moment.

The slight nuzzle caught Billie off guard, her cheeks burning at the unexpectedly sweet gesture—only for Leon to pull away entirely a second later. She kept her smile in place, refusing to let her expression falter, though her eyes betrayed her thoughts. They searched his face, silently asking, is everything okay? Did I overstep?

Riley. “I—sorry, I really want to kiss you.” Leon reveals, honest and raw as his eyes flicker over her face, his desperation raw and evident. “I am mixed up in something I shouldn’t be. With someone I shouldn’t be, I should say…” he swallows around the lump in his throat, growing since he’d seen Riley with tears in her eyes, with Levi’s utter confusion by how it’d all upended itself.

Her shoulders relaxed, along with her mood, as a hand flew to her chest, pressing against her racing heart. “My god—I thought I was the only one interested for a second,” she admitted, a breathy laugh escaping her lips. Her hand fell away, idly fiddling with the loose fabric of her blouse as she thought of what to say. He didn’t say no, he didn’t say no…

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Leon. It’s...it’s good to know, though—that I’m not the only one.” She hesitated, glancing at him before adding with a small smile, “To be fair, I’m pretty sure any guy in this position would have done the opposite of what you’re doing right now—being honest.”

“And I don’t feel this with her. I haven’t felt this with anyone. Maybe I am horribly misreading the situation,” Leon can still feel the ghost of her lips on his cheek and he shakes his head wistfully, widening his eyes in a way that says, wouldn’t be the first time, and reluctantly takes a step away to reclaim some distance between them. “I need to end that before I think of starting this, and—I want to, by the way. You are… something else, Billie Lennon.”

Her hand darted after him immediately, fingers catching his wrist before stubbornly slipping into his hand. Dork, don’t pull away. “You aren’t—you goofball,” she reassured with a tease, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips this time around. With her free hand, she gave his nose a flick, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter as he pulled a face in response. For once, she wasn’t the one running away—her usual streak of cowardice taking a rare timeout. It was summer, after all. Why waste time dancing around what she wanted?

She squeezed his hand, her heartbeat loud in her ears, her thumb rubbing his knuckle. “Good, because I want this too. And—I’ll wait, whatever you need.”

Her gaze flicked down to the flowers he held, slightly crumpled from his grip. With a soft sigh, she reached out, her fingers brushing the bouquet as she gently steered him towards the bench. “We should set these down before you wrinkle them any more, you dork.”

She wants me too, his hand tightens around hers. It’ll work out this time.

Leon allows her to guide him towards the bench, releasing his hold on her long enough to tuck the forget-me-nots amongst the gardenias and lily’s Jonathan had procured for Judith Evergreen. It crossed Leon’s mind a time or two to ask Jonathan why these specific flowers, if it were down to the meaning or colour palette of mostly white with a splash of pink. He won’t mind, he tells himself, gently pushing the blue flowers into the bed of white.

“I should ask him about the flower choices,” Leon continues his train of thought, setting the flowers down for good and returning his hand to Billie’s. “Prying isn’t really my thing, but it must be nice to talk about her.” He begins to pull her away from the field, keeping his eyes trained on the bench until they reach the edge of the trail, moving his eyes to bore into her own. “I’m a rose guy myself. What about you?”

Billie’s gaze lingered on the flowers, now gathered together—the delicate blue of the forget-me-nots standing out against the soft white petals. “I’ve heard those flowers usually symbolize true love,” she said softly. “They can also mean devotion and respect. I think that’s...beautiful.”

Her eyes flicked towards Leon, sneaking a glance to catch his reaction as he began to move—guiding them back down the path they’d originally come from. She followed quietly, her thoughts trailing behind them. Would be nice to come back here again.

Glancing back at him, she made sure to remember that roses were his favorite—seriously, how is he single? “Oh, me? Hmm.” She tapped her fingertips against her chin, her gaze drifting upwards as she considered her answer. A thoughtful hum escaped her before she finally spoke, a bright grin breaking free.

“I think…any yellow flower, really. Sunflowers are my absolute favorite, though. But coneflowers come pretty close—although, now that I think about it, they kinda look like smaller sunflowers. Sort of? Maybe?” Billie paused, shaking her head as she fought back the urge to snort, already done with her excessive babble. “Don’t quote me on that, just in case.”

“You won’t believe this…” Leon chuckles, swinging their hands slightly with each step. The movement was subconscious on his behalf, an afterthought as their fingers seemed to loosen their hold only to tangle again, bringing themselves closer and closer. “My mother had a garden of coneflowers. She always thought they were a mix between sunflowers and daisies.” He bites his lip, silencing himself as a thought trickled into the back of his mind, pity she couldn’t live up to the meaning.

“No way—seriously?” Billie’s eyes lit up at his admission, her brows softening as she tucked away this new piece of information about Leon, please tell me more.

Her excitement over learning more about him left her blissfully unaware of his discomfort, her words spilling out before she could catch them. “It’s true, though! They really do look like sunflowers,” she gushed, her smile widening. “But I’m totally stealing that—thinking they look like daisies. That’s creative.”

Her gaze snapped towards him at the sight of Leon biting his lip, the subtle gesture enough to make her mouth clamp shut. Her enthusiasm drained in an instant, and she quickly averted her eyes, heat creeping up her neck. Oh, I did not read the room at all. Stupid mouth.

Leon sneaks one last glance at Judith’s bench, long swallowed up as the path takes them downhill, but the canopy of light shining down on the memorial persists in their wake. It would’ve been comforting to have a bench for his mother, acting as a final resting place where he and his father could remember her in an honourable manner, to speak about her at all without tip-toeing around the glaring elephant sitting proudly center stage.

Revealing a vulnerable side of himself would only ruin the moment, but with her skin on his and the sun seeming to follow them each step further into the woods—her face, the epitome of sunshine—it wouldn’t be so horribly tense for once. He never had the opportunity to talk about his mother so freely. “We didn’t take care of it very well after she, uh, passed away. Reminders were—are—hard for my dad. I’m surprised Jonathan can stomach it at all.”

So that’s why he got all quiet. The realization hit Billie hard, guilt washing over her for assuming his sudden mood drop had anything to do with her. The weight of his loss—his mother—settled heavily in her chest, and she brought her free hand to rub at her face in shame. Her lips puffed out in a slight pout of sadness as she squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently trying to offer some comfort through her gesture first.

“Leon, I…” Her voice cracked slightly, prompting her to clear her throat, her mind scrambling to stay composed. She reeled herself back, arguing silently with her thoughts as she searched for the right words. Don’t make this worse. Just…say what you feel.

“Fuck, I’m—" Billie’s voice faltered, her gaze attentive as her words tumbled out in a quieter tone. “Here I am babbling about flowers when you…lost your mom. I really am sorry.”

There I go again, Leon’s hand clings a little tighter to Billie’s, holding onto his makeshift lifeline. Buzz-kill. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was a lifetime ago, when I was…” his head tilts to the side, counting the years behind his closed eyes. His brow ticks, a crushing reminder suddenly pressing down on him. Almost twenty years ago. “Six. I just turned six.”

She brought her other hand to rest gently against his elbow, her touch hesitant but warm as she stepped a little closer, still holding onto his hand. “Sometimes it can…be a lot to take care of stuff, especially yourself—when you lose somebody.” Eyes sought out his, earnest and full of understanding. “Don’t blame yourself, about the flowers.” Her thumb brushed against his knuckles gently, while the other gently gripped at his elbow, grounding them both. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know I’m here.”

Her unexpected touch at his elbow jolted him back into the moment, tearing him away from the unpleasant awkwardness that hung around every interaction with his father—the resentment was an unfortunate truth, a lingering air of shifted blame and bitterness.

“Glad you are here,” he admits, allowing the space to smile and not feel guilty for it. “Memories of her are fleeting, but this—Renee and Paige—it’s too fresh. At least with my mother, most of what I know about her was through others experiences. Photos.” He exhales, slow and heavy, his breath felt trapped in his throat from the moment they were declared missing. “Feels weird when you personally know someone and they’re just gone.”

At least with his mother, him being so young at the time, it almost felt as if she were never here at all—the Evergreen’s were an entirely different case, their presence haunting the camp. Renee wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Billie couldn’t claim to know Renee or Paige—nor had she truly experienced the loss of someone close to her—but she understood the weight of emotions Leon was carrying. She couldn’t explain how or why, but it resonated with her, sitting heavy in her chest as she caught his expression, his words. Wish I could take it all away and just store it inside, she thought, then immediately scolded herself. Have to stop doing that, Billie. Remember last time?

“It’s…kind of hard to say I get it when I’ve never lost someone before,” she admitted, a bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “What I do know is that it never hurts to have friends around during a time like this. Do you…have anyone close that’s aware of all of this? All of—”

Letting go of his hand, she shifted to grip his elbow, guiding him to stop walking. She stepped in front of him, her hand now free, and gently poked the center of his chest where his heart rested. “—what you bottle up inside?” Her tone softened further, as if trying to reassure him without words that she was there to help, not pry.

Leon contentedly allows Billie to draw him to a stop half-way down the trail. Awkwardness was void in their exchange, of which he was grateful—what he lacked in emotional support from his father, he freely had from the friends he surrounded himself with. Her, too.

“Levi.” His name comes out easily, but his lips pull downwards as he recalls the way his best friend stalked out of the Dining Hall, slamming the door open with a heated and pointed look in his eyes. “Think my announcement disappointed him, though.” His now unfortunately free hand finds the back of his neck, fingers swiping at the skin hidden beneath his hair. “Lisa’s a close friend of his, and—fuck. Should’ve intercepted him sooner. Gave him fair warning. Might’ve softened the blow of this stupid tradition.” Connie, too… I’m hopeless.

For how poorly he realised he handled that morning’s Orientation, Leon still firmly believed Truth or Dare was on the table regardless. It was less about tradition and more about… community? Uniting after tragedy? Drinking and drowning in their shared trauma? An excuse to bring them all together under the pretense of fun and games, it seemed right even with Renee and Paige’s absence looming like a darkened cloud above them all. She’s not here to cause trouble, Leon unfairly thought, allowing resentment to steer his mindset, it could’ve helped.

Billie’s eyes locked onto Leon, catching the way his hand rubbed at his neck—a nervous habit she was sure of by now. “Not your fault,” she said, the response immediate and firm. The need to absolve him of blame was clear in her tone. “Seriously, someone older should’ve done that. You shouldn’t have had to take the hit.”

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she nudged him playfully as a thought appeared, knocking him slightly off balance. Before he could falter too much, she grabbed his arm to steady him, her laugh ringing out in the air between them. “Besides,” she teased, her grin widening, “you look like you still got a couple of years left. Could’ve fooled me.”

“Enough of me wallowing,” Leon grins, one of encouragement and casual dismissal. “I’ve got a solid network, promise. They know what they need to know.” Each friend knew something different, but never the whole picture. From the look of unbridled concern and support in Billie’s eyes, he supposed she could know it all—eventually.

The thought came and went—maybe I could open up first, show him he can trust me—before Billie had the chance to let it absorb. Instead, she nodded along to Leon’s words, her grin softening into a gentle smile. Her eyes stayed trained on him, bright and focused, a flicker of warmth in their depths.

“Come on, you dork,” she quipped, tugging lightly on his arm as she fell into step beside him. “Let’s head back before a bear finds us. I just met you, and I actually don’t want to die right now.”

Walking down the path she prayed was correct, her arm swung with enthusiasm as she hastily added, “did you know we get paid 10k? Just—what the fuck. Is Mr. Evergreen really that rich? Jesus, this should be longer than two weeks. Maybe then we could be cabin mates.”

She glanced to her side at him, her laughter floating through the forest, the trail ahead nothing more than a hopeful guess as she dragged him along.

Leon glances down at the sliver of space between them with half a mind to recapture her hand in his, but is pulled from the thought at the mention of Jonathan Evergreen’s wealth. “Yep. He’s loaded. Some start-up tech company that hit it big not long after he left high-school, or that’s what Paige would tell everyone. He always referred to it as ‘dumb luck’.” He answers with an incredulous laugh and slight shake of his head, the man stayed humble whereas his daughters absorbed the ego he’d worked hard for.

Humble man, she thought, sucks how half of the town thinks he’s evil.

Maybe then we could be cabin mates. You can’t imagine my disappointment. “For ‘non-gendered’ sleeping arrangements, Eva thinks more as a mother than Camp Director in that aspect.” And, before he can think better of his forwardness—because that’s surely thrown out the window by now—his hand casually closes around hers, pressing into her palm as he keeps his eyes trained on the treeline before them. He’d hoped the movement was smooth, practiced and a casual afterthought, but his own palms were unnaturally sweaty and his fingers twitched towards her own, his nerves seizing him in a chokehold. This is supposed to be easy for me.

“Before I forget—Truth or Dare is a bit of a costume party,” he explains, wincing as it sounds so lame coming from his mouth. She is too cool for this. “Uh, not sure if you got that memo before arriving but if there’s anything you want? Maybe someone is willing to grab it from Easthallow, or we could raid the costume trunk at the Amphitheater.”

Hand in hand, Billie drew closer, her face warming at the thought of how they naturally seemed to gravitate towards each other—his palm warm, her fingers twitching with the urge to curl around his out of habit. We’re such fools, she realized, the corners of her lips pulling into a soft smile.

“I haven’t thought of a costume,” she admitted, her free hand nervously playing with the flower tucked into her hair. The thought of showing up as…herself didn’t seem so bad, though it felt both freeing and disappointing. Would that be lame? It wasn’t like anyone knew who she was—just a city girl on the run, trying to figure herself out.

“Gosh, I have no clue what I’d wear. Is it a big deal around here?” she asked, her pace matching his as they strolled down the trail. Up ahead, the camp came into view, and the sight brought an unexpected pang of disappointment. Don’t really want this to end, bummer.

Leon’s mood shifts into dejected territory as they step off the trail and onto the Campgrounds, back into the reality of a summer dedicated towards campers and not themselves. For now, he reminds himself, glancing at Billie from the side of his eye. “Kinda? Tradition, and all.”

So when Leon mentioned his offer, Billie latched onto it eagerly, her excitement spilling out before she could stop herself. “Now that sounds like a good time. We, huh?” she teased lightly, turning to glance back at him.

“We.” He confirms, pulling her towards the direction of the Amphitheater. Sparing his sweaty palms not even a second thought, Leon doesn’t drop her hand even as they’re in clear view of others. He didn’t want to hide what he felt, or what was just starting even if it drew them the typical pointed looks of there he goes again, walking around camp holding a girl's hand—he could care less, for once.

A bold and bright idea pops into his mind, one that might solidify him as the camp serial romancer that can never pause the breaks on his heart. He tugs her closer, dropping her hand to instead loop an arm around her waist. “Ready for this?”

Just as casually, Billie wrapped her arms around Leon’s neck, leaning back slightly to flash him a bright grin. Her eyebrows arched playfully as she hummed in response, “Smooth, Mr. Supervisor. You’re not the only romantic around these blocks, you know.”

Her eyes flickered downwards towards his lips for a fleeting moment before she caught herself—not yet, she reminded herself firmly. Instead, she let her fingers twirl through a strand of his hair, savoring the closeness before releasing her hold.

Turning away, she placed her hand on the door with a smirk firmly in place. “Let’s do this.”
code by valen t.
 
ZARINA'S MOOD: newly confident

JOEY'S MOOD: hopeful

LOCATION: the boathouse -> the lake
basics
MENTIONS:
Joey spareparts spareparts

INT:
n/a
tags
TL;DR i was gonna do this this time but my brain empty
tl;dr
swimming
joey and zarina

Breakfast had left Zarina feeling strange. Whatever Leon’s whole deal was kind of threw her off… was he just naively nonchalant about all of this? She knew she was bad, prone to easily believing what others told her, but she couldn’t see how any of this was something to be so careless with. The gasps and anger of the other counselors told her that her gut feeling about it wasn’t wrong either. How could they play Truth or Dare when they’d just lost a friend? While Zarina hadn’t met her, the reactions of several people leaving the dining hall in varying states of anger and grief told her all she needed to know.

She looked up and met Lani’s eyes briefly, they were warm, intense and fearful. As though she’d been staring at the sun, Zarina had to look away quickly, scanning the dining hall for the straggling counselors coping with their newfound grief. Suddenly, Leilani stood and grabbed her hands, squeezing them. Zarina felt her cheeks flush a bit and nodded. “Yeah, see you then!”

As Leilani left, Zarina found herself in a rapidly emptying dining hall full of people she had yet to meet. It was a bit daunting, so she slung her mini backpack full of essentials over her shoulder and walked outside. The sun was shining, bright and warm, which meant the water later would be a welcome reprieve, and yet she couldn’t feel her usual excitement at the prospect of it.

She found a tucked in spot on the patio to sit between then and lunch and pulled out a small notebook she usually journaled in. Flipping to a new page, she wrote, “lisa – missing 6 days? connected to evergreens somehow. leon - way too calm.”

She stared at what she had and chewed on the end of her pen, feeling a bit ridiculous for writing anything down at all with such a loose understanding of what was going on. She scribbled down a few more thoughts, mostly of her current feelings, mostly her anxiety. After what seemed like too short of a time, it was time to go to lunch, where she reconvened with Leilani briefly before leaving a little early to get ready for swimming.

When she arrived at the dock, it didn’t seem like the swim coach was there yet, so Zarina opened up the door to the boathouse at the start of the dock. She peered inside to see kayaks and a small seating area with lockers. Lucky for her, she didn’t have to stand awkwardly on the docks waiting for her compatriot. She entered and began putting her little backpack in one of the lockers.
Submerged underwater, Joey felt a calmness settle over her. She blinked her eyes open for a brief second, catching the soft light from the sun above casting a warm glow on the sandy rocks below. When she closed them once more, she felt 11 again. Every time she did this, the world around her took on a new form--delicate and surreal; absent of noise. Sad, happy, anxious, angry–all emotions rolled off her back and disappeared into a quiet stillness. If she could last underneath for more than eighty seconds she might stay suspended forever.

Lisa, Paige and Renee. All gone. Just like that. And we’re just left here to miss them all.

…

No wonder Mona ran out like that… How awful… I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now.

…

And Leon…that’s just the icing on the cake. What was I thinking getting involved with him? –All it did was just break my heart. I bet he doesn’t even care.

…

Ugh shut up!

She let herself float back up to the surface, lifting her head just enough to take a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs. When she sunk back down, she let out a long scream.

Once more, she rose from the water, wet hair cascading over her face, and for a moment, she didn’t care to push it back behind her ears. Joey trudged slowly to the shore, her feet dragging in the sand, and plopped down on her towel, curling her arms around her knees. The sun’s heat immediately started to dry the moisture from her skin, wrapping her in a comforting warmth. Reaching for her sunglasses, she slid them over her eyes, then flipped her compact mirror open--her lips forming a pout in the reflection.

Okay I guess I feel a little better now..

Joey didn’t have much time to linger. She gathered her things and stuffed them into her bag, quickly wiping the moisture from her legs before tugging on her socks and boots. She slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the boathouse. Her mind was still filled with thoughts she hadn’t quite sorted out, but with each step, she felt a quiet surge of confidence. Soon, everyone would be back in the swing of things, and for her, overseeing another session of swimming activities---a constant she could rely on. It mattered to her that the campers had a good first day back, despite the unsettling news hanging in the air.

Joey swung open the door, her eyes locked in on the unfamiliar figure standing by the camper’s lockers, “Well hellooo theree..” She said, her tone playful; with an undercurrent of curiosity and a raised brow, “Are you my new lifeguard?”

She studied the girl for a moment—pretty, and sort of a girl next door sort of vibe to her.

Zarina jumped a bit when the door swung open behind her, slamming the locker she’d been messing with closed as she turned around to the woman standing at the entrance. She blushed, embarrassed that she was so jumpy despite the circumstances. She hadn’t even known the missing girl and it seemed like most of the counselors were really nice… this girl included, or so it seemed from her enthusiastic greeting. Zarina smiled back at her, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Yes, that’s me!”

She examined the other girl – her hair was wet, already in her swimsuit, and wearing boots. Seemed like she had already gotten a head start on swimming today, but Zarina couldn’t blame her. Being in the water always helped calm her down, quieting the thoughts in her head. Maybe she’d have a good swim after their activities today and it’d help clear her mind a bit.

“My name is Zarina, by the way,” she said as she went to sit on the bench to take off her sandals and stuff them in the locker she’d chosen.

“Zarina! I love your name,” Joey exclaimed with a bright smile, casually pushing her sunglasses up onto her forehead. “Johanna— but everyone just calls me Joey.”

Blue eyes looked her up and down, though not out of any spite–only observing how the girl had already started placing her items in the rusty blue lockers below, “Hey, you know there’s like counselor lockers right? You can use those ones but there’s much more spacious ones in the backroom.”

“Oh thanks! I like your name, too.” She didn’t know if she’d ever met a girl who went by Joey, but it seemed to really fit her vibe.

Zarina blushed when Joey told her that she was using the wrong lockers. Embarrassed, Zarina pulled her stuff out of the locker and followed Joey through the boathouse. Though she was barefoot, she was too embarrassed to stop to put her sandals back on, so she was extremely cautious walking up the scary wooden stairs.

Kindly, Joey motioned for Zarina to follow her, leading the way up a set of creaky wooden stairs that rose beside the row of camper lockers. At the top, a wooden door to the backroom of the boathouse was still adorned with last year’s calendar, its glossy corners marked by doodles she and Paige had left behind. Joey tried not to look at them.

She pushed the door open, stepping off to let Zarina peek inside, “See? Isn’t it kinda nice?”

Now in the back room, Zarina examined the newer looking den area and nodded at Joey. It was nice. “Everything at this camp is so nice, honestly.”

A row of slightly newer, less worn down metal lockers lined the corner of the counselor’s den. Across the room was a table nailed into the east wall with two swivel chairs and a mini fridge right underneath it.

Joey swung open hers, revealing a small mirror and an array of colorful magnets that decorated the inside. She quickly stashed her things away, then dug through her bag, searching for the dark blue one-piece swimsuit she’d brought just for lessons.

“So, like, I need to know. What are your first impressions?” Joey asked casually, already slipping out of her bikini without a second thought or warning. She had her back turned to Zarina, focused on fastening the straps of her new attire, “Like, any stand-out thoughts, ideas, people–” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, “I know like everything about everything here, so I’m curious what you think about it so far.”

Zarina followed Joey towards the taller lockers and opened one of the free ones. She hung her bag on a small hook at the top and put her sandals on the floor, next to a tube of lipstick and a compact mirror that had been left behind by the locker’s previous user. She wondered who had been the lifeguard before her – had it been one of the now missing sisters? Her stomach lurched and she hoped not, but didn’t want to ask for fear of bringing up bad feelings in her new friend. Instead, she turned back around as Joey began talking.

… Just as Joey began to take off her bikini, back turned toward Zarina.. She quickly averted her eyes and turned her head away from the girl, not wanting to be weird but not used to people changing so freely around her. She hoped that the other girl didn’t see her abrupt reaction and began to take off her own t-shirt where her tankini top lay underneath.

As Joey finished changing, Zarina turned back towards her as she folded up her own shirt and shorts and thought about her questions. “Um, well honestly I haven’t met a lot of people yet. The ones I have seem nice. It’s interesting here, for sure…” she hesitated for a moment as she sat her clothes, now neatly folded, on top of her sandals in the locker. “I do think some of it is… strange. Like with the girls going missing…did you know them?”

Joey tilted her head, her lips briefly pursed together as her gaze drifted to the space adjacent to the lockers. There, the bright red mini fridge stood, a mid-century restoration piece Jonathan had gifted to the boathouse counselors. It reminded her of that summer—when her, accompanied by Ivy and Paige, filled it with shaving cream and a card they'd picked up at the local thrift reading 'Happy Boating' with an old man on the cover as part of a prank on Leon for his first year as a counselor. Renee and Clarisse had been lurking around the corner, Joey's camcorder in hand, eager to capture the moment. The fridge had smelled like peppermint for the rest of the session.

“Mmm... yeah, I did,” Joey said, biting her lip. “They were some of my best friends, actually.”

Joey returned her attention to Zarina, putting on what she felt was a brave face. She offered a small smile, “You know, it’s really sad that all of this is happening. But we shouldn’t let it get to us. Besides, the investigation is still open and stuff..”

Zarina hadn’t meant to bring up any negative feelings for Joey and suddenly felt like she was prying into Joey’s personal business. Though she filed away some of what Joey said for later, she felt bad about making Joey talk about it when they had to turn around and teach a bunch of excitable campers.

She nodded and smiled at Joey’s statement that they shouldn’t let it get to them. It was certainly an optimistic outlook, one she was trying to adopt – surely whatever was happening to these girls would be solved soon. Before anyone else went missing…

As she finished stowing the rest of her things in the locker, Joey carefully wound the cord of her polaroid camera, pausing to untangle it from the jumble of rubber band bracelets wrapped around her wrist. "I will say," she continued, "my good friend Juliette—she was actually my lifeguard before you!—she told me Shiloh’s, like, an investigator now AND he’s working with Sheriff Jones on the disappearances."

Joey noticed the confusion flicker across Zarina’s face at the mention of all these names.

"--Oh, right," she added quickly. "Shiloh’s Liv’s older brother. Or, well—do you know Eva? The lady who works the front desk at the Lodge? Eva's kids, Shiloh and Liv, are both counselors this year. Which is actually INTERESTING since—" She caught herself, realizing she was tangeanting. "Well, it’s interesting for reasons I won’t get into right now, but anyway... it'll be okay."

Zarina tried to keep up as Joey ran through a bunch of names and connections within the camp, but wasn’t sure about everything – though she did recognize Eva’s name. So they all knew each other well at this camp. Meaning that people could easily dislike someone else enough to make them try to disappear… she tried not to let her anxious imagination run wild and focus on what Joey was saying instead.

“Well, I trust you. I feel a little safer knowing we have someone around watching our backs.”

Joey nodded, though a flicker of uncertainty tugged at the edges of her thoughts. They were in good hands. Agreeing with Zarina helped reinforce the belief she’d carried since childhood—that Evergreen was her safe haven. Once upon a time, it had been everyone’s safe place. But something had shifted, and she couldn’t make sense of it now. It was easier to put her trust in Shiloh—in Officer Jones, in the team working tirelessly on the cases. Maybe that was the only way forward.

It made her happy the new girl seemed to trust her word. Maybe this meant a new friend.

Joey raised her Polaroid with a smile. “Before I forget... it’s picture time—Boathouse tradition!" She shuffled in front of Zarina, squinting slightly as she adjusted the camera.

Zarina smiled cutely as Joey raised her camera, tossing up a peace sign last minute. She hoped she didn’t look awkward or uncomfortable – she always felt weird with a camera pointed towards her, like it was going to display how weird or out of place she felt. However, as Joey’s camera spit out a photograph, she felt included, thankful to now be a part of the Boathouse tradition. She would be remembered here, if nowhere else, she thought as she looked at the bulletin board by the door where the photos of past counselors were, a blank spot where their Polaroid would soon go.

“Perfect!” Joey exclaimed, her focus narrowing as she clicked the shutter. The soft whirr of the Polaroid echoed in the quiet room. Joey snatched the photo with a quick motion, shielding it from the light by holding it against her stomach. She then placed it face down on the table.

“Alright, ya ready to get out there?”

Zarina glanced back and nodded at the other woman’s question and started making her way towards the door. She would love to pick Joey’s brain more, but figured they would soon have a group of campers at the ready, demanding their undivided attention.

“Lead the way!” She opened the door to let Joey through to lead the way back down the scary stairs and out through the boathouse where campers were now getting ready. Zarina stood on the dock next to Joey as she observed the early campers who were already in their bathing suits, standing around by the edge of the lake in anticipation. She hoped Joey had picked out something easy for today.

Joey's mood transitioned seamlessly, her cheeriness radiating as soon as she stepped off the wooden panelled stairs and onto the shore. Nothing sent her energy skyrocketing like stepping onto the slight heat of the sand and finding dozens of campers waiting--faces lighting up as soon as they saw her. She could pick out every single one of the returnees in a crowd, a smile and a wave to some of the most excited ones, already bouncing with energy and ready to talk her ear off. It was funny, really, how she could recall each camper's name accompanied with little quirks about them, yet remembering historical figures and even one fact about them was so difficult in school.

The stories of these kids were the kind of details she never forgot. Joey tried not to get too emotional by the buzz of it all. They knew nothing of the day's turmoil; Joey could feel some sort of peace in their innocence at least. Though the news still felt just as overwhelming, with Zarina by her side it seemed less of a burden to carry.

She found them a spot nestled in between a good lot of the campers, her eyes scanning the crowd as one by one they turned their heads towards the two women. Joey's eyes widened with a smile--a brief acknowledgement as two girls and a younger boy seemed to trail her like little ducklings, standing a good deal close to her side and eyeing Zarina with curiosity.

"Okay! Let's get started here. I hope you're all ready for, arguably, the best activity at Evergreen. If you don't already know me, I'm Joey and I'll be your swim counselor for the next two weeks. My favorite color is pink, I have a kitty named Bebe and my--"

“--favorite Starbucks drink is an iced chai latte with 4 pumps of irish cream syrup!” the boy blurted, standing with his hands on his hips, looking cheekily at the girls beside him who were already shushing him with laughter.

With a dramatic but friendly snap, Joey was quick to retort, “Actually, Davey, now it’s an iced chai latte with 5 pumps of pumpkin spice. Very close though.”

She gave Zarina a smile, “Before we dive in, I want to introduce your new lifeguard and my new friend, Zarina.” –A ‘Hi Zarina’ bubbled through the crowd– “She’ll be around to help you guys with whatever you need so don’t be shy–I know you’ll all love her.”

Joey’s cheeriness was infectious, seeping into Zarina’s own mood and making her feel a little better about whatever was going on at this camp. Perhaps not every problem was one for her to solve, maybe all she should be doing is her literal job and not trying to dig where she didn’t belong. Especially a mystery that wasn’t even her own. Maybe today could still be a good day, she thought as Joey began speaking and joking around with the campers. She could tell that Joey had a really lighthearted relationship with the campers, sure that their lessons from here on out would be a blast.

When Joey brought the attention to her, Zarina grew a bit shy. She knew they were just kids, but all the eyes on her made her feel like she was under a spotlight. She nervously waved. “Hello, everyone, I know we’re going to have a great time together!”

A couple of campers responded enthusiastically over a couple of murmurs in the crowd. Then, one of the older campers in the back of the crowd spoke up. “Where’s Juliette?”

Zarina blushed and flicked her eyes back to Joey for help, not sure what to say. She’d mentioned Juliette earlier in the flurry of names, hadn’t she? Had she met a Juliette yet? She tried to think and remembered seeing “Juliette” written on her cabin chart, but hadn’t formally met her and wasn’t sure what role she was now if not the lifeguard. Hopefully Joey had the answers and they could move on. Zarina didn’t want to feel like she’d taken a beloved counselor’s spot.

Joey adjusted her sunglasses, pushing them down just enough to get a good look at the older girl. Ella Giordano, the little sister of a boy who tutored her in French throughout high school. It was funny just how small Easthallow was despite the influx of campers from all corners of the country. The girl's strawberry blonde hair, a shade so close to the copper Juliette's once was that it tug something faintly nostalgic to her. She was pouting, her expression a mix of curiosity and mild disappointment--clearly troubled by Juliette's absence and definitely old enough to understand the weight the Evergreen sister's disappearance held. It was an understandable reaction, given the shuffle of staff and not much of any explanations given out to anyone.

"Juliette's our lovely chef now," Joey said with a sweetness that bordered a bit of heartbreak, "I miss her here, too. But don't worry--she's still around. You should stop by the cafeteria sometime, if you have the time. I'm sure she'd appreciate the visit." Joey's smile was warm and with it, she scanned the crowd.

"Alright! Let's get this thing started then. I want all of you to make two groups based on how well you think you can swim. If you got otter or higher in last session's awards, group together--if you're new to Evergreen group with the others."

Zarina’s mood was a bit dampened by the mention of the previous lifeguard – she could sense that things were a bit rocky in camp and she didn’t want to throw more of a wrench into things. But as the kids lined up and Joey started talking them through their tasks, she started to feel more at home – her proximity to the water and the familiar task allowed her to ease into the day. She made a mental note of the younger kids, those who were new and deemed less good, and started handing them the life jackets they brought outside for the less secure swimmers.

Returning to Joey’s side, she said, “Just tell me where you need me, boss!”

“Hmm… could you handle the shallow end kids? I’ll just be doing strokes with the other kids for session, but maybe just practice pushing and gliding into a float, arm motions and breathing technique stuff. Make sure they’re havin’ fun.” Joey added with friendly shrug, before turning away from Zarina, tossing her clipboard onto the lounge chair and jumping off the dock.

Coming up to the surface she waded, “Alright–line-up! I wanna see butterfly!”

“Got it,” Zarina said as she turned back to the younger kids on the shoreline, guiding them to the water and walking them through some basic swimming moves while trying to keep an eye on both groups. She was ready to spring into action at any moment, but hoped that the kids would be okay closer to the shallow part of the shore. She offered gentle corrections as some of them struggled, but otherwise let them experiment with swimming (mostly floating) back and forth in front of her, their giggles filling the air as they started to get the hang of it.

After some time in the water, Joey felt an adjusted ease to the regularity–the laughter, the beating sun, the chaos of manning a group of kids all thrashing around under a veil of aquamarine. It made her realize just how rewarding it all was, and why it was all so worth it to come back. Looking over her shoulder she flashed a thumbs up to Zarina who was working with the lower level kids.

“Hey! We’re going to swim over to Zarina’s group now, let’s go!” She kicked away from the group to give them the space to traverse over to the shallower end, following in a breaststroke until she could touch the pebbled sand, “D’you mind watching them all for a bit? I gotta pee.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem!” Zarina called as Joey left her group of kids behind to run into the boathouse. Now left behind, she awkwardly looked at the large group of kids in front of her and twisted her long hair between her fingers nervously. The limelight now on her, she shrunk back into her shell a bit, unsure how to keep their attention until Joey got back while being able to keep a watchful eye on them.

“Just keep running your drills and we’ll wrap up soon!”

Joey walked barefoot off the sandy beach and onto the green grass that trailed up towards the boathouse, careful not to step on any unknowns on her way into the camper’s bathrooms located behind the structure. The lights were faulty inside, flickering momentarily when she washed her hands. Joey made a mental note to talk to Hugo about the matter.

Just as she walked around, she stumbled a bit and lost her footing–the area slick with the movement of the lake water having spilled onto the wooden planks by the kayak docks. Her knee hit the ground and her hands caught herself, “Ouuch!” She winced, pulling her knee in for inspection. Dummy.. That’s gonna be a fat, ugly bruise for sure..

Her eyes drifted momentarily toward the kayak beside her, the craft rocking gently with ripples across the water. The wood creaked softly with each sway, its surface worn and weathered by countless years on the lake. Resting on the seat was something unexpected: a page of newspaper, clinging to the seat. The edges were curling, the ink at the edges beginning to blur as the moisture crept in.

This isn’t a newspaper.. ‘History of Fairview’–she read at the top of the page. Her eyes scanned forward. Statistics.. Accidental drownings after 7:00pm… Jesus…

Joey crumpled up the paper, holding it in her fist for a moment. The temptation to toss it in the trash and forget about it was strong, but something tugged at her—a strange sense of unfinished business. She paused, biting her cheek as her gaze swept across the scene around her. The water stretched out, endless below the hot sun, the boats resting like silent sentinels against the dock. Chatter of kids thrashing in the distance.

Her eyes landed on a small gap between the wooden bench nailed to the front of the boathouse, an almost imperceptible space hidden in the shadows. Without a second thought, she moved swiftly, slipping the crumpled paper into the narrow crevice. It was an odd place to leave it, but it'd have to do for now. As her fingers brushed against the rough wood, she made a mental note to check back later and properly read the rest of it.

God, why did I have to read that now.. Joey groaned, trying to shake off the eerie feelings garnered after such a bleak set of words. She tried to put on a face and act normal for the children, getting calf-deep into the water and cupping her hands to her mouth, “Alright, 10 minutes, kay? Just go play.”

Joey turned away from the crowd and tossed her towel lazily on a dry patch of sand, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation from both the fall and the strange discovery. She put her right knee up and started to inspect it once more, her thumb grazing the tiny bits of sediment off the pinkish abrasion.

Zarina glanced up at Joey’s return, noticing that her mood had been dampened since she’d left for the bathroom. Had something happened? She bit her lip and watched as Joey commandeered the class and then returned to the shore.

“How about we play a quick game of Marco Polo?” Zarina yelled to the group as she went to return to her spot on the shore where she had a good view of the whole class. She pointed at the girl who’d asked after the old lifeguard earlier, trying to endear herself to them. “Why don’t you start us off?”

Still keeping an eye on the campers, she glanced briefly over at where Joey was favoring her knee on the shore. Eyes towards the lake, she asked, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I.. fell, over by the boathouse. Slipped by the dock.” She shrugged, putting her shades on and looking out towards the water.

The kids in lifejackets kicked as quietly as they could, trying to steer clear of Ella. Whenever they drifted too close, they squirmed--eyes wide--with expressions like stifled giggles. Boys trailed behind her, laughter breaking the stillness as they toyed with her awareness, darting off with shrieks of "Polo!".

Zarina cringed in sympathy as Joey described her fall, glancing back and forth between the kids in the lake and her new friend. “Ouch… do you need to go to the Med Bay?” She took a longer glance towards Joey, noticing the bruise forming on her knee and wondering if she could take care of the class on her own. It didn’t look too terrible, but some ice probably wouldn’t hurt it. She turned her attention back to the kids giggling in the lake, a new “Marco” tagged into the game, the original girl splashing as she took her place in the crowd of kids trying to avoid them.

Finally, when Ella managed to tag one of them, Joey’s eyes flicked over to Zarina–realizing she’d lagged a bit long after her question, “Um.. It’s fine.. I–”

“--Did you see anyone by the boathouse earlier?” She blurted, unable to keep the ring of thoughts from overflowing, “‘Cause I saw this paper ripped out from a newspaper, or book, or something and it was just kind of sitting in one of the kayaks. And it didn’t seem that long ago it was left there.”

She paused, suddenly aware of how odd it sounded, even to her. It wasn’t a big deal, but there was something about it that stuck with her. She shifted uncomfortably, pulling her knees closer to her chest as if that could somehow settle the restlessness in her mind.

Zarina thought about Joey’s question for a minute, but she hadn’t seen anyone when she’d gotten there… was there another door to the boathouse? Had they snuck in while they were starting class? She tried not to go down a long line of questioning for something simple – plus, she didn’t even know what was on the paper, or why it seemed to have Joey a bit shaken up. Still… with the strange things that had happened so far into the camp, she wasn’t ready to discount anything weird.

“Hmm… I did not see anyone, but I showed up shortly before you did…” Zarina scrunched her face, covering her eyes with her hand as she looked closer at the kids in the water, one of the kids disappearing in the water for a couple of worrying seconds before popping up behind the current ‘Marco’. She glanced back at Joey. “Why, what did it say?”

Joey chewed her lip as she spoke, fighting the nerves. She knew she was being ridiculous. It bothered her to come off so scared in the face of a new friend, but Zarina’s openness brought a sort of sanctity to the situation. “God, it was something so morbid. Like about the history of drownings in this lake..” Joey exhaled, tossing her hair to one side so she could fidget with the bunches, “It was just creepy to find that. You know? Just sitting there.” Like I was meant to find it..

She rose both her knees up to her chest, looking out at the water.

“Hmm..” Zarina hummed as she continued looking out at the water, thinking about what Joey said as she watched the kids splashing in the water, slowly giving up on their game of Marco Polo all together as their ten minutes started drawing to an end. She twirled a strand of her hair in her hands as she thought about the odd juxtaposition of their laughter and the paper that Joey had found, a troubling feeling twisting in her gut. Every new piece of information brought to her made her feel like something very wrong was going on here. But… she was just reading too deeply into it, right?

“That is strange… have you heard anything like that before?” Zarina chewed her lip and glanced back at Joey for a second, noticing her uncomfortable body language. She didn’t want to press her new friend too far or make her uncomfortable, so she shrugged and suggested, “I’m sure it was a coincidence, though… Maybe it’s been in the boathouse and got disturbed by one of the campers?”

Joey put on a smile for the couple kids approaching them, one with a fancy waterproof wrist watch he held up proudly and announced that he was ‘pretty sure’ the ten-minute call was seconds away from coming to an end. She nodded, “I think you’re right Nolan.”

She stood up, cupping her hands around her mouth once more, “Hey guys! It’s free time!”

One by one the other kids followed each other out of the water, some running to get to the showers in order to save as many minutes of free time they could before their next activity.

As the kids filed out of the lake, Zarina relaxed and sat down on her own towel next to Joey’s, now empty as she directed the kids out of the water. She fidgeted with the straps on her bathing suit as they dug into her skin and she wondered if the rest of camp would feel as weird as today had been. She looked up as Joey approached and offered her a small smile.

Joey sat back down next to Zarina with a large sigh, “Maybe you’re right.” I need to lighten up. “I think all the news is just…getting to my head.” She tossed her hair to the side once more, fingers going through it–preemptively detangling the bit of mess.

“It’s a lot to process… don’t be too hard on yourself.” Zarina offered, not really knowing what to say. She’d never lost someone… not like this. She felt like the not knowing would be the worst part of it all, and if it was her friends that had gone missing, she didn’t even know if she could process it at all.

She looked over her shoulder, gathering her belongings in her purse and turned to smile at Zarina, “Right. Seriously, thank you for hearing me out. You’re really cool Zarina.”

Zarina had started to get up and gather her things as Joey stood, but paused as she spoke. She was a bit taken aback by this girl, who upon her first impression seemed so self assured and cool, now calling her cool. Blushing, Zarina twirled her wet hair around her finger awkwardly and said, “Oh, thanks!” Nobody’s ever called me cool before.

Joey slung her handbag over and took a few steps towards the boathouse before stopping in her tracks and abruptly facing her once more. “Oh.. I kind of have to run to meet some friends in Easthallow right now, do you mind staying behind a little just to make sure the kids are alright before they head out for free time?”

Zarina shook her head, smiling, a new feeling of confidence brimming inside of her – both from the new responsibility and being called cool. “No, I don’t mind, I’ll watch them! You can go.”

“Sweet, ‘Appreciate it girl.” Joey slid the big shades resting on her temple over her eyes, “Make sure you come to the sunspot tonight, kay? You won’t wanna miss it.”
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: rowan, uneasy. ricky, wrongfooted.

OUTFIT: n/a

LOCATION: sports field -> lodge -> amphitheater
basics
MENTIONS:
Rowan Bishop irregular-neptune irregular-neptune
tags
TL;DR Rowan finds a totem before bumping into Ricky. They discuss it as well as the disappearances, exes, etc. before dropping off the totem at Eva's office (lost and found) and heading to the amphitheater for truth or dare costumes.
tl;dr
Totem Commotion
ricky and rowan
As the rest of the group parted ways, Rowan told them that he’d finish cleaning up the field after sports – making sure any stray cones or balls were put away. He didn’t mind doing it and he appreciated having something to do. His thoughts had been spiraling since this morning and having a distraction was welcome. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lisa, about the last time he saw her, how things had been so tense between the two of them.

Why didn’t I say something sooner?

He wished that he hadn’t asked Levi to get him a costume – an excuse to not go wouldn't be easy to come by if he had one, and he wasn’t sure he should even go after last year. He wasn’t sure how many people would even want him there. Maybe he could redeem himself this year after last year’s shitshow. Would that even be possible?

As he walked toward the door, his foot caught something hard on the ground and he squinted as he leaned down to pick it up. Swiping the dust off of it, he uncovered a strange wooden sculpture with intricate carvings covering it. It looked like something out of a movie, out of place in the familiar environment – he had never seen anything like this here before.

Rowan’s eyes are drawn deep into the center of what looks like the gaping mouth of the totem, a hollow cylinder of darkness and for a moment, he doesn’t realise that he left the sports shed. When he looked around him, he quickly realized where he was – it’d been a year since he’d stepped foot in the back kitchens, but he’d spent quite some time here before.... Paige would give him little jobs, cutting vegetables for dinner or carrying trays out to the dining hall – and the most important one, keeping her company.

But how had he gotten here? He looked around in confusion before catching a glimpse of blonde hair and had a moment of hope despite his confusion – only for the figure to fully come into focus and he realized that it belonged to Juliette, not Paige. His temporary disappointment gave way to curiosity as he noticed that she was holding something – looking closely, he watched as she set it on the key rack.

“Juliette?” he tried to get her attention – maybe she knew why he was here – but his mouth moved soundlessly. Confused, he looked around again and – he was back in the sports shed. Blinking hard, Rowan examined the totem again, turning it over in his hands and trying to make… whatever happened… happen again. Was he going crazy? Had he finally, truly snapped? Either way, something seemed different about the totem now and he didn’t see anything in its depths.

Confused and blinking in the sunlight, Rowan stepped out of the shed and closed it behind him. What was that? Maybe he needed to get some rest… but now he was wired. He gripped the totem, unsure if he should take it or leave it behind before ultimately deciding that maybe he should hide it in his bunk, what if it was dangerous? Or important?

He started walking, heading towards the Village and thinking as he went, in his head even more now than he’d been this morning. Maybe the stress of the last year and Lisa was getting to him, maybe he should go home early, should’ve listened to his gut when it said not to come back, maybe – he looked up just in time to avoid running into a man on his path, a man who was walking at his own determined pace.

Rowan stopped hard and sidestepped last minute to avoid the collision, smacking his hand on the tree beside him on the path and dropping the totem he’d held. It tumbled to the ground and rested beside the roots of the tree and Rowan looked back at Ricky apologetically.

“My bad, man – I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Ricky blinked, taking a step back to brace himself after the near collision. He seemed to be ping-ponged from one surprise encounter to another today, something that was making even his extroverted self crave some alone time. He was practically getting whiplash from trying to adjust to be what everyone needed, knowing that he had failed nearly everyone he’d come into contact with at that already today, including Rowan. Maybe especially Rowan.

“It’s okay. Frankly, I’m just glad you’re not another one of my exes I’ve ran into today,” he said candidly, almost too candidly, giving his friend an awkward laugh. It wasn’t as if he and Rowan had ended the summer on the best of terms either, with the acid of anger filling his stomach whenever he’d seen Paige in those last few days before her disappearance. But Rowan was a good guy, even if Paige and Ricky had fallen out, and Ricky had been trying to get their friendship back on track after everything.

But even though Ricky had just seen his friend less than an hour ago at the sports activity, there was a different energy about him now. He’d been angry, earlier, probably about Lisa’s disappearance less than a full year after Paige and Renee’s. Not that Ricky blamed him for that, especially with Jonathan stubbornly keeping the camp open in spite of it. But now Rowan seemed on edge, more confused or anxious than angry. He seemed jittery, like the wrong thing could cause him to dash off and leave Ricky by himself.

Had something else happened? It seemed like Rowan had dropped something in the near-collision; maybe it was something important. He bent down to try and find it to pick it up, looking around the base of the tree. “Let me get that, dude. It’s my fault for not looking either,” he added.

Rowan gave Ricky a sympathetic look at the mention of his exes – it was hard to be in such confines with people you had conflict with. This was one of the things Rowan felt like a self-made expert in unfortunately and he didn’t think it ever got easier. He didn’t think much about that before Ricky started looking on the ground for the dropped totem. “Nah, I don’t blame you. It’s been a weird day…” He watched nervously to see if anything happened when the other man picked it up.

When Ricky wasn’t teleported away or… whatever had happened, Rowan realized what it really was that he’d been waiting for and mentally chided himself – nothing was going to happen because nothing had happened. He was actually losing it, experiencing some kind of psychotic break finally and placing the blame on this… totem… thing. It had been bound to happen – Lisa going missing had obviously been the final straw and now he was hallucinating.

He pointed at the totem now in Ricky’s hand, “Have you ever seen anything like that? I found it in the sports shed… it’s kinda creepy.”

Ricky blinked, studying the object that he’d picked up as he went back to standing. It was certainly odd, looking like something out of a film set more so than something that belonged in a summer camp. Despite the strange little item, Ricky was a bit relieved that the two had something to focus on that wasn’t Ricky’s trainwreck of a dating life or Lisa’s disappearance. Still, something about the object unsettled him.

“It’s definitely weird,” he agreed, biting his bottom lip in thought. “Do you think it’s someone’s good luck charm or something? Or maybe some sort of weird prop for a party?”

He really had no clue himself. So after examining it for a moment longer, Ricky looked up at Rowan and gently tossed the thing to him. The closest he could figure was that someone lost their good luck charm or prop. But it didn’t explain how it had gotten into the sports shed.

“Huh, that’s a good question…” Rowan said as he looked at it in Ricky’s hands. Did he even want to take this thing to his bunk? The more he looked at it, the more he was creeped out by it, by what it had done to mess with his head. He took it back from Ricky, debating on what he wanted to do with it. Should he take it to Eva’s office in case someone reported it stolen? Or was it just some trash he was putting more stock into than it deserved?

He held the totem down by his hide and glanced over at his friend. He hadn’t had a quiet moment with Ricky since they’d gotten back to camp and he felt bad for any tension there’d been between because of Paige last year. It hadn’t been Rowan’s personal problem with Ricky, but unfortunately Paige had become a wedge between himself and many of his friends last year… Now, he was just trying to make it through the days, putting back together the pieces that he could.

“Sorry if I was weird during sports,” Rowan offered awkwardly. “It’s just all… overwhelming. It feels like last year all over again.”

Ricky blinked, surprised at the apology. If anything, he had thought that he’d been weird during sports. But the admission made him feel better; it reassured him that he and Rowan were going to overcome the rift that Paige had wedged between them. Maybe he could actually help Rowan process everything happening now–but did he even want that? Maybe all Rowan wanted was a friend. And that was something Ricky could do.

“Hey, no worries, man,” Ricky responded, giving his friend a reassuring glance. “No need for apologies. What happened was crazy, and I think we’re all a bit shaken up. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, though. But you know I’ve always got your back, man.”

He had a hopeful feeling his offerings wouldn’t be rebuffed this time, but there was less tension here. While he and Rowan may have had their ups and downs, they’d been friends for a long time and they always managed to be friends again no matter what life threw at them. A pang of guilt struck him for not being there for Ezzy, but he couldn’t force the guy to want him around. As selfish as it was, part of him felt like he and Rowan fixing their friendship might do something to feel the emptiness left after the last encounter. But more importantly, Rowan was closer to the situation than Ricky was, and Ricky knew if it were him in that position he’d want all the friends he could get.

Rowan was used to the words that Ricky was saying by now – when people heard that your girlfriend went missing, there wasn’t much else they could say. It wasn’t anything Rowan could have imagined before either. Some days it still felt like he was walking through a dream. Ricky’s never ending optimism tugged at Rowan, a mild irritation and at the same time, a comfort. He wasn’t sure what friends he had these days and Ricky’s immediate assurance put him at ease, even as the reminder of the totem he’d found (and Lisa) tingled in the back of his mind.

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and said. “That means a lot, dude. Thanks.”

Uncomfortable with the attention now drawn towards how he was feeling, Rowan dug the toe of his sneaker into the dirt of the forest floor and glanced back towards where he’d been headed, totem weighing heavy in his hands. He examined it again, wondering what about it messed with his head so hard. Maybe he just needed to go back to bed, his rough night of sleep surely weighing on him now. He glanced back up at Ricky, “Should I, like… take this to the office or something? In case someone is looking for it.”

Ricky had nodded at the response, noticing the quick shift in topic but not commenting on it. He didn’t want to be the one to force someone to talk about their feelings; that kind of shit never actually helped anyone unless a person really wanted to discuss their emotions. And Ricky was just grateful for the companionship, not wanting to push his luck with another person.

At the suggestion of returning the totem, Ricky studied the thing again. It had to have been dropped by someone, but he hadn’t heard of anyone looking for a totem as far as he knew. Then again, maybe it was a recent loss, and campers did carry around the strangest things sometimes. If it had been Ricky to find the totem, he would have probably taken it to the office too, to make sure its owner got it back. If he’d lost something, he’d surely want it returned.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he agreed with another nod. “Whoever owns it probably wants it back, so…” A shrug. “Speaking of weird costume-y shit, maybe I should head to the amphitheater at some point to find a costume for truth or dare.” Since I had figured it was too much in light of the disappearances at first, he added mentally, but did not say aloud. Even he, with his eternal optimism and efforts to make the kids feel at ease, had other things to worry about more than finding a costume. Normally he was used to planning way in advance, often a group costume too, so he had figured with the lack of communication that it wasn’t on. Now that he knew it was, he might as well put some effort into it, for Leon’s sake if nothing else. The guy must be running himself ragged at stepping into such big shoes during this time.

Truth or dare, he’d almost forgotten. Rowan held back from rolling his eyes at the mention of it, his annoyance not truly at Ricky. It wasn’t even at Leon specifically… it was just that they all were moving forward. He felt stuck behind, like he was the only one who cared enough to feel frozen in time. His mind trailed to Levi and the rest of his old friend group and he knew it wasn’t true. Even if he wasn’t on good terms with them all any more, he knew that they all had to be hurting in the same way. Lisa’s absence made the camp feel so empty.

“Yeah, I’ll probably head that way now and leave the totem in Eva’s office, if you want to come with…” he glanced down the path headed towards the Lodge and the Amphitheater. He started his trek slowly, leaving an invitation for Ricky. Part of him wanted to be alone, but another part was hopeful that Ricky would come along with him. Maybe if he distracted himself until truth or dare, he wouldn’t obsess over the fact that he wasn’t doing a couple’s costume with Paige, or teasing Lisa about hers. Not that he would have the opportunity even if she was here. But at least she’d be here.

“I guess I should take a look, too – I sent Levi, but… y’know,” Rowan knew Levi’s track record for costumes and wondered if he should have asked someone else. Maybe he could find something old that still fit in the amphitheater, or maybe Riley had donated that crayon costume she’d made him wear (he hoped not). He trusted that Levi would come through, but it couldn’t hurt to look. Or I could just not go.

Of course Ricky would be happy to have company; it would help him not to overthink things like he might have done on his own. Though he had initially set out to spend some time by himself, he was realizing that he was actually quite happy to have Rowan there with him. But did Rowan want the company too? Ricky wasn’t sure, but the invitation to come along wouldn’t have been offered had Rowan truly wanted Ricky to leave. He wasn’t the people pleaser that Ricky himself was, after all. He wouldn’t just offer if he wouldn’t at least tolerate Ricky’s company. So the guy found himself tagging along.

“Sounds good to me.” He shrugged. He snorted at the mention of Levi being the one to find Rowan a costume, also remembering the previous years. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a backup plan. And who knows, maybe it will end up being kind of fun?” Ever optimistic, part of Ricky felt that going back through the memories stored in the amphitheater in the form of costumes might actually make him feel a bit better, though he wasn’t sure if it would help Rowan as much. Well, who was to say it wouldn’t? And it was only right to try and return the little totem to its owner.

Rowan nodded at Ricky’s words, though he was unsure about going to the amphitheatre being fun. He doubted he’d find anything that would fit him and only saw himself wading through memories seeped in the Evergreens. Maybe a part of him wanted to, wanted to see the old memories of Paige that were tucked away in there like a memorial.

“Yeah, it’ll be great,” he mumbled as he started walking towards the Lodge. He figured he’d stop there first so he could get rid of the totem in his hands… it was starting to creep him out, and he wasn’t sure he would have even wanted to have it in the cabin after he spent more time looking at it. They walked in silence for a moment, soon passing the Amphitheater, where it looked like at least a couple of others were in the backstage area already.

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones with that idea,” Rowan said as they neared the Lodge. He climbed the steps slowly, almost nervous. The totem grew heavy in his hands and he was ready to be rid of it. He opened the door and glanced towards the office – the door was shut, Eva was probably busy elsewhere with the million things the camp director did to keep everything running… plus with Lisa… her plate must be full. Looking around the Lodge, he wondered if anyone else was here or was everyone preoccupied preparing for tonight’s truth or dare?

He squatted and gently sat the totem on the floor next to the office door, giving it one last look before standing up. He was glad to leave it behind, feeling like it was staring directly at him as he put space between him and it. Hopefully, Eva would see it and put it in the office when she returned, and whoever had lost it would be able to find it, lest it found a home in her office… he shuddered as he imagined the ugly thing becoming a permanent fixture on her desk.

Rowan turned back towards Ricky and started walking for the door, “C’mon, let’s go before they steal all the good costumes.”

Ricky grinned, picking up his pace slightly and turning to look at his friend. “Don’t have to tell me twice!” He was going to do everything he could to give the guy some semblance of normalcy after all he’d been through recently. And, admittedly, there was a part of him that wanted to distract himself from the impending dread and anxiety the disappearances made him feel.

As he glanced towards the others already there, heading that direction, an entirely new anxiety buried itself in his stomach at the sight of Ezzy. Well, at least dealing with someone who he had failed was the lesser of the two evils, though not by much, considering how intrinsically linked it was to the more recent disappearances. He took a deep breath. It would all be fine. Or he was going to act like it until it was.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: Shiloh (nostalgic → tense, and serving a sprinkle of sarcasm.), Thomas (nonchalant, as always.), & Harper (a bit abrasive, but mainly calm → mildly entertained.).
basics
COLLAB WITH: Wyll Wyll , sunshineysoul sunshineysoul
tags
TL;DR Harper and Shiloh go and settle into their cabins, come across a totem (via !butterfly effect for Shiloh), and do some catching up. Thomas makes a surprise appearance after the three cross each other’s paths on the way to The Row.
tl;dr
BUNKS & BETRAYAL
shiloh evan, thomas mode, & harper evergreen.
Harper rolled her eyes in an annoyed fashion at the mention of cabin arrangements. Fucking Leon, the look blatantly communicated, reminded of the fact that he hadn’t told her which cabin she’d be staying in this session. “I’m going.” she announced, dismissing the brochure situation entirely now. “But you can find Leon, Shi. I’m picking a cabin myself.”

Before he could protest, or say anything else for that matter, the Evergreen walked toward the entrance to the back kitchen and disappeared to retrieve her suitcase―at least he managed to do something right―that the Supervisor carefully stored away for her earlier, before returning to the Dining Hall. “We’ll catch up with you later, Livvy. Oh and uh―don’t think I’ll forget about that drink at the Sunspot tonight. We’re having fun. All of us.” Harper pointedly throws a look at the agent's direction before blowing a friendly ‘Goodbye’ kiss at his sister.

Without another glance behind her to see if he’s following―and taking her rightful place as the lead―she begins their leisurely walk out of the building.

Shiloh’s eyes widened at Harper’s look, silently asking what did I do? Before she made her grand exit. He quickly looked back at his sister, silently checking in that she didn’t need him to hang back with her for a little bit. He knew the Nic mention shook her, but he also didn’t want to suffocate her if she needed space. Once he received the silent sibling communication of I’m okay, Shiloh nodded, adjusted the bags on his shoulder, and followed behind Harper.

“I know I was a bit of a rule breaker nine years ago,” Shiloh started as he fell in step with Harper, “but something tells me this may not be the best way to figure out our sleeping situation?” He cocked his eyebrow as they both walked the path towards the cabins. Of course, Shiloh wanted to make sure he had a place to sleep that night, but if anything he was prepared to fashion a bed in the Lodge.

Nope, not the Lodge. Literally anywhere else but the Lodge.

He silently smacked himself as he remembered Eva’s office was located in the Lodge. He still couldn’t believe she was being complacent in re-opening the camp. And having the audacity to try and keep him and Liv away? The cynical wheels of the young agent’s mind were rotating, school relatively fresh on the brain. Eva had to know something was going on, obviously she did if she was so adamant about them two not returning to camp that year. But why did she only care about them? Surely she didn’t make some bold, cowboy duel at dusk showdown faceoff when every camper came up through the trail into camp, but why not? It was obvious that the camp wasn’t safe, there were now three people missing and they were specifically from the previous camp session. If Eva was feigning dangerous and unsafe environments, why did the camp still open?

It was obvious that the administration running the camp was a close-knit bunch, had been for years. An argument could be made that Jonathan Evergreen was just truly that stubborn that he couldn’t be talked down, but then that would beg the question of why not? Those were his daughters that went missing, who were still missing at large; what kind of parent, who claims to love and cherish all varieties of children and young people alike, would willingly facilitate an environment where people were going missing?

Shiloh’s eyes glanced at Harper for a split second before looking back on the trail. He couldn’t imagine how Harper was feeling the past year. Many people would roll their eyes at her, try and say she was “just a cousin”, but Shiloh certainly knew better. Harper and Renee were close, the Evergreens as a whole were close; he had witnessed it first-hand most of his childhood and teenage life. How did she feel about Jonathan re-opening the camp when Renee and Paige were still missing? Clearly her presence indicated she wasn’t happy at the lack of evidence found to find the sisters; If there were two things Shiloh knew about Harper; One, you don’t mess with her family or she will come in guns blazing. Two, if something doesn’t get done right, she won’t hesitate to come in and do it herself.

Instinctually caustic, Harper casted a glance over towards Shiloh as they matched pace―impatience threatening to flare in her gut―until a thought caused her to bite her tongue and save it later, or at least until he deserved it. Does he know something I don’t? Or is he just being annoyingly cautious?

“How bad can it be?” she posed the question almost as if she expected Shiloh to clue her in on whatever he might’ve been holding back. “Our little Supervisor must not think so if he didn’t tell us where we’re sleeping in the first place.” And I don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of losers for two weeks. The thought of sharing a cabin filled to the brim of freaks and freeloaders―she shamelessly scoffed when her mind drifted to Elodie again―wasn’t something Harper was taking a chance on.

What was Leon going to do about it anyway? Recalling the previous years with Renee at the helm of Camp Evergreen, one thing was always certain about Leon Macmillan: He always left his balls at home.

She’s agitated, but why? Shiloh compared her current behavior to her behavior when they first reunited. Was she just tired from traveling to camp? Did Hugo specifically piss her off? I understand that. It was probably best to not speculate, and probably also not a bad idea to not mention the apparent attitude. Maybe she just needs to talk; to be angry and get it out of her system.

“Good point, if it was that important he would’ve made sure to tell us our cabin numbers,” Sorry Leon, Shiloh made the choice to be Harper’s “yes-man” for the time being. There were certainly worse titles to have. “Who are you trying to avoid bunking with? Or maybe who are you trying to make sure you bunk with?” He hoped his joking tone helped diffuse and relax her posture, not cause her more frustration and anger with such a stupid question.

There you go, Shi. She quirked a genuine smile when her childhood friend’s need to always lead with caution finally rolled off his shoulders. If she was going to have any success in milking the privileges that his shiny new law enforcement job came with, Harper would have to get him to relax. To trust her. Renee’s life depends on this…On him. On me.

“If it were up to me, I’d have my own space.” Harper answered truthfully, eyebrows beginning to knit together once she thought over his second question next. The last few years spent away from Easthallow had made it harder for the Evergreen to place who she wouldn’t mind sharing a cabin with, unsure of whether the same group she used to hang out with were still attending.

Was Joey still here? Ezzy? As soon as the nickname resurfaced, Harper immediately regretted sparing a space in her memory for him―the psycho junkie who went off the rails, Renee had described his unfortunate demise. Immediately shaking the thought away, she continued. “I could share with Livvy though,” there’s a hint of a rare sincerity and softness in her voice, one that once came naturally before the edge consumed it. The anomaly was short-lived though once her teasing nature reappeared through an arch of her eyebrow and a playful smirk on display for him.

“But not with you. You’d snore me right out of the cabin.”

Shiloh’s hands flew up to his chest, as if he was shot through the heart, “Ugh, I’m hurt Harp, you don’t think I’ve gotten my snoring fixed in the last nine years?” His face was twisted in a fake and playful hurt before reverting back to a genuine smile, “I’d like to think I’m a much better bunk-mate now, trust me,” Shiloh shot the Evergreen a playfully flirtatious look, as most of their friendship tended to be.

As the two continued towards the cabins, Shiloh knew he should get the hard part done and over with. He’d have to face the music with all of his old friends, might as well start with Harper. “So… What have you been up to the past few years?” The never-ceasing seed of guilt sat a little heavier in his stomach as he re-adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

Playfully rolling her eyes at Shiloh’s mischief, Harper was beginning to grow comfortable in the space they were building until he unwittingly ventured into a territory that was about as comfortable as discovering a fresh bruise. Way to ruin the moment, she thought to herself in spite of knowing that he was clueless about her life. She couldn’t reprimand him for it, but that didn’t stop her smile from faltering a bit.

“Oh, you know the usual…” Schooling her expression to hide any shadow of doubt from surfacing, she continued, “All work and no play, unfortunately. I was neck deep in college coursework.” Before that bitch decided she knew what was best for me, Harper sourly recalled the outburst that led to her academic suspension before her gaze flickered back to Shiloh.

“Then I just decided to come home. Be closer to family and see some old friends again.” In her classic fashion whenever a conversation was becoming too sentimental for her liking, Harper redirected the topic away from herself with a gentle bump of her hip against his. “But you were the last person I expected to see back. You know I have a phone, right?” She teasingly chided his decision to go off the grid―curiosity piquing as to why he decided to leave as she brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face and behind her ear.

Once again, Shiloh found himself letting a small chuckle escape his mouth. “Eh, between what I’ve heard between you and Liv and with my own experiences, college doesn’t seem all that it’s cracked up to be,” He did his best to keep his own memories of college at bay, ignoring the pit forming in his stomach at the thought of his college days.

The vague response wasn’t lost on Shiloh, as it was along the same lines and sentiments of answers he had given Liv for various questions. Everyone’s got their demons, I guess, Shiloh didn’t ponder Harper’s response too much; he knew if she started questioning him, he would be just as vague. Questioning was inevitable from everyone, if Shiloh was being transparent with himself, it had to be expected when he had left Evergreen and everyone in it for nine years. The pit in his stomach grew, they’re going to ask why.

As if on cue, Harper formed her own line of questioning about Shiloh’s absence. He did his best to keep the same facial expression, not daring to let his old friend catch a shift in his face. “Well to be fair, I didn’t have my own phone until I was in my last year of college. You’re not the only one I’ll be begging for forgiveness from, believe me,” Shiloh somehow succeeded in keeping his tone light and playful, but his words were heavy and true. Being forced to face everyone and everything he ran away from had been heavily weighing on him every day since Office Jones called him up and requested he help with the investigation.

“And I know exactly how you can make it up to me,” Harper winked, adding a thick layer of charm to disguise the double entendre for their shared sense of humor. “Shots, shots, and more shots. You and Livvy aren’t getting out of it once we get to the Sunspot,” she stated, wilfully ignorant to the emotional turn the conversation was taking Shiloh down on. I’m not going down whatever road gave him those eye bags.

The pits forming in his stomach moved up, now feeling like twisted and thorn-invested vines constricting around his heart. He felt as though everything would be different. So far Harper and he were getting back on the same footing of their past friendship, but what about everyone else? Was Leon just putting up a fake smile because there were other people around? Annie already seemed mad at me earlier. And where the hell is Levi? Does he even want to see me?

The feeling intensified, thorns constricting more.

And even if they don’t hold any grudges against me for leaving, it’s been nine fucking years. What if they’ve changed into different people? What if they’re all people who don’t want anything to do with me? They’ve become too cold to reconnect with an old friend? I can’t say I’d blame them.

I’ve changed too. I’m not who I was before. I’m so much worse.

The thought rang loud and clear in his head as it lifted from its position for Shiloh to watch the path pass under their feet. He had to get a hold of himself, it was literally only his first day at Camp Evergreen. Shiloh knew he couldn’t let himself get distracted and overwhelmed from his own feelings.

It was then, as Shiloh was metaphorically ripping the vines away and clearing his mind, a small glint caught his eye. The pair had found themselves passing the sports field, just as a group of campers were finishing packing up to head to lunch.

“Hang on Harp,” The words seemed to fall out of his mouth, not like he intentionally said them, eyes still trying to discern what the abnormal glint was. Shiloh’s feet had stopped moving, waiting for the campers to walk away from the area. Maybe it was something of theirs and they would pick it up?

As the group walked away, there was no effort made to bend down and collect something from the area where Shiloh saw the reflection. “Ugh, can’t trust kids nowadays to pick up after themselves,” His brown eyes rolled as he now turned to speak to Harper, “I saw something where those campers were, I bet it’s just a water bottle or something. Be right back,”

As if Shiloh had been asking for the impossible, Harper abruptly stopped in her tracks and watched his retreating figure with a bewildered look in her eye. Is he seriously―? “That’s what Hugo’s for…” she muttered under her breath in a dissatisfactory fashion as she watched him hunt for what was likely abandoned trash. He knows the way there, she pondered leaving him behind and closing the distance. Impatience coursed through her as their trek made the cabins come to view yet her feet stayed planted in anticipation.

Turning back to the field, he did his best to find the approximate area where he first saw the glint that initially caught his attention. As he marched closer, he saw the glint again. This time it was much more prominent, to the point that Shiloh knew it was a green-tinted light. Who puts a green water bottle in the grass? No wonder they forgot it.

Finally being close enough to the glint, Shiloh bent down to get a closer look, before reaching his hand into the grass to pluck the object from the ground. It was what appeared to be a small, wooden totem-

Mid-argument, Leon pushes at Levi attempting to shove him into the Fairview Lake in the dead of night.

The scene played out in Shiloh’s eyes so suddenly and so clearly, he dropped the totem out of… Fear? He felt his chest rising and falling faster than normal, he knew he jumped at the sight. What the actual fuck was that? Shiloh quickly dipped down and shoved the totem into his pocket before looking around him. There didn’t seem to be any prying eyes other than Harper’s. Shit what the hell do I say, think fast Twine, His previous last name flashed through his thoughts in a moment of panic as he began crossing the field back to where he left Harper.

Doing a remarkably good job at hiding the newfound fear from Harper, Shiloh showed the totem in his hand, “Some dumb toy, there was a damned spider on it.” The agent lied through his teeth, hoping Harper’s friendship would believe the story he told her that her inquisitive and attentive eyes caught.

A humorless scoff escaped Harper before she could stop herself, almost frustrated at the inconvenience the piece of cylindrical wood had caused them as she trained her eyes on its precisely carved grooves along with the hollow butterfly cut out she could make out from the top. Their parents must hate them, she immediately thought before returning her attention to Shiloh. “Don’t tell me the big bad agent is scared of spiders now?” she teased in recollection of his fearful reaction, wrinkling her nose in disgust once her gaze dropped to the totem again. This reeks of the Salvation Army.

As to be expected from any time Shiloh found himself with Harper, his mouth curled into a small smile, moreso a smirk due to the teasing nature of their friendship, “Okay, I’ll throw a spider at you when you least expect it and we’ll compare notes,” He playfully rolled his eyes as the two of them began walking back towards the cabins, small totem still in his hand

“Save Leon the trouble of getting extra wood and toss it in the bonfire tonight. I doubt the kid left it behind on accident.”

“Probably not a bad idea, no idea what kind of kid would want to play with this toy,” Shiloh finally shoved the totem in his pocket and shoved the flashing images out of his brain. What the hell was that? It didn’t look like there was a screen on there? There wasn’t even any sound, was that Leon and Levi? Shit. Are they not friends anymore? Does Levi still not know how to swim?

The more they walked through camp, the more his thoughts seemed to calm themselves. If he wasn’t in Harper’s company, maybe he’d be freaking out a bit more. But the brunette had a way of making him think twice about his words and actions. The last thing Shiloh wanted was for Harper to pass her usual harsh judgment on him for something he didn’t think over three times. Imagine what she’d think if I told her this stupid toy gave me a fucking vision.

“So, Sunspot,” He began to break the silence as the cabins finally came into view. “What’s the alcohol situation? This is my first time as a ‘counselor’, do I need to swing into town and get the good shit?”

As they picked up their trek from where they left off, Harper ensured to set the pace at a slightly quicker speed, keen on getting across the bridge that separated them from the row of cabins before anything else could inhibit her from getting there again. “You don’t have to run and get anything―Unless you want to, I guess.” I know how close you are with Leon, she recalled their earlier conversation back at the Dining Hall. “Leon’s supposed to be getting the drinks and we just show up in our best costumes.”

And I still have to find one. Harper let an annoyed exhale escape her, her relaxed grip tightening around the handle of her suitcase at the reminder of not getting to ask anyone to pick up a costume before they headed to town. “After we dump our stuff, I need to go―” Before she could continue her explanation to Shiloh, the presence of an unknown figure appearing from the woods and strolling in front of them caused the words to die on her lips. But, not before taking note of the shirt draped over his shoulder rather than being worn: Uncle Jon is picking up way too many charity cases.

Thomas continued his trek towards the cabins. His pace was more akin to a leisurely stroll than anything else; hands interlaced behind his head and slowly swaying from side to side in time with the tune he had playing in his head. The soak at the lake had done good for him and helped him ignore - at least for now - how much of an absolute mess everything was.

Not far away from where the woods gave way to the rest of the camp, he started hearing voices. The voices were too few and too quiet to be a bunch of rowdy campers, but his curiosity did nudge him towards the voices. Cutting through the trees brought him out a small way in front of Harper and Shiloh, the sources of the voices he had heard.

"Ah," he sighed as he spotted them. He gave a small, dramatic bow in Harper's direction and tipped an imaginary hat. "Evergreen." His eyes then moved to Shiloh, gaze running over the counselor. His hands rested on the ends of his shirt that was still hanging around his neck, cocking his head to the side as he tried to place the face. "Newbie?" he concluded when he couldn't find a face in his memory that matched this one. His gaze danced between Harper and Shiloh, wondering if this was a situation similar to him and Renee. Or if the two of them walking in together was just a coincidence.

Shiloh couldn’t help the way his face contorted at the guess, Newbie? He couldn’t hold it against him, whoever this guy was, seeing how he had been gone for nine years. Shiloh knew he could say the same thing about him, but instead his lips pressed together in a tight line as he shook his head a bit. “Nope, not quite,” Never been called a newbie, but I guess I’m going to get that more and more, huh?

Least the homeless guy has manners, despite being appeased by the deserved greeting Harper earned from him, the Evergreen remained neutral in the exchange that started between Thomas and Shiloh, before she butted in next. Newbie? Nope, not quite. Might as well be now. “And you’re supposed to be…?” she questioned, shamelessly looking over the new addition and juggling assumptions of her own as she awaited an answer. The resident tarzan? Carrying my bag? Out of our way.

Since her arrival, there had been one too many unexpected reunions, none of which she cared to think back on with the weight of her luggage becoming harder to ignore. Now we have to listen to this Sherlock. A soft sigh left with boredom in tow as she flicked her gaze up toward The Row again, narrowly missing two figures leaving until the sound of their voices grew louder as they approached. Then, a scoff. And it’s her again.

Thomas gave Shiloh a look that very clearly read, Oh really? Not new, huh? His thoughts straddled the line between doubt and curiosity. If what he was saying was true, then it would mean he had missed at least last year's camp session and Thomas was curious to find out why. If he was a former counselor as well, it would mean that he knew the Evergreens. Unlikely, then, that he just so happened to come back the year after they went missing. This one might be worth keeping an eye on.

He then turned to look at the Evergreen. Only now did he realise that the balance of knowledge was broken; where he knew her but she didn't know him.

"Ah. My apologies, then. The name is Mode, Thomas Mode. I was here last year and decided to come back this year for..." there was a pensive moment where he genuinely asked himself what he was doing here. The answer was simple. Laughably so, in fact. "For absolutely no reason, apparently." He ran his hand through his hair, sighing softly at his own foolishness.

Realising that he was in the presence of strangers and had already let too much emotion show. He cleared his throat and resumed his nonchalant disposition.

"It's whatever," he casually waved off. "Everybody's running on one braincell in there and passing it amongst themselves. Got myself out of there as quickly as I could."

He looked back between the two, raising a brow. The Evergreen asking him a question meant that he had the chance to ask them one again to balance things up. He'd have to choose wisely.

"Well," he began. "What about you two? Miss the bus or something? You already missed the camp concert. Some dude was jamming out on his guitar whole Jonny was getting ready to start the opening speech." Even as he spoke, he bit back the swell of pride that he felt with his little antics. But putting the blame on some anonymous person at least lets him gauge whether or not he would enjoy spending time with these strangers.

Shiloh couldn’t help how his face twisted in confusion. Did he just call Mr. Evergreen…. Jonny? He did his best to mask his facial expressions, but subtly was never Shiloh’s strength. His mind was working a mile a minute. This guy in front of them said he was here the previous year; aka the last year Renee and Paige were seen. But if it was him, then why the hell would he come back? I guess it’d be pretty damn suspicious if he didn’t return to camp when the sisters were gone. Shiloh felt his eyebrow raise up as his mind worked, over analyzing every little bit he could about the counselor.

There wasn’t much to go off of in the beginning, just a shirtless counsellor who had an affinity for being a bit too descriptive. Awful chatty for meeting two strangers. Shiloh had to remind his cynical-self that not everyone was as initially closed off as he was. Some people actually like to talk to new people.

He tossed a glance to Harper for a split second before his eyes returned to… Thomas.

“Me and my sister drove up. Hit some traffic on the way so we were later than anticipated.” His face evened out as he spoke, “She wandered off somewhere, probably reconnecting with old friends,” Shiloh’s shoulders shrugged a bit as his eyes went back to Harper, “I have no clue what your excuse is,” His face fell into a familiar smirk as he verbally poked fun towards the Evergreen.

Paired with a lazy shrug similar to Shiloh’s, Harper’s gaze flickered from the two in her company and the red cabins that waited ahead for the three―patience waning and interest entirely lost for the small talk she became trapped in. “Santa Barbara isn’t around the corner,” Thankfully.

The insolent attitude she harbored against the dilapidated town Jonathan had chosen to establish a legacy in slipped when she answered. It was money and resources wasted on a spec of land people often passed on their way to a city bigger, better. No matter the amount of summers since 1989 she spent attending camp, there was an ill-mannered temperament that only grew within Harper―unlike Easthallow, which refused to grow at all.

The Evergreen always thought that, he could have done a lot better with his funds.

“Can you walk as much as you talk, Thomas?” Harper had reached the peak of her boredom as she took the initiative to start walking to cross the bridge, this time abandoning her luggage by Shiloh’s feet with a look that said, would you please―? She laid trust in her friend’s hands that he’d take her bag as she continued the conversation with a new topic in mind that piqued her interest.

“You can tell us how that ‘concert’ went.” Part of her was sure that the event itself went undisclosed toward Jonathan and was an act of spontaneity he was forced to accommodate, especially given the circumstances Camp Evergreen’s attendees were coming back to. But, she waved the thought away―knowing where it always led―for a direction much lighter. “I doubt it beats nineteen ninety-two…” she drawled with a pointed smirk and mischievous gleam in her eye geared toward Shiloh.

Harper remembered the play that had Shiloh and his friends decked in suspenders and grime for Peter Pan at the amphitheater fondly, especially knowing that his time under the spotlight was somewhere captured for the counselors to remember. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lost Boy?”

Without missing a beat, Shiloh picked up Harper’s bags and followed as she continued towards the cabins. He couldn’t help his eyes rolling and the shaking of his head as Harper recounted a camp memory that Shiloh had done his best to forget. A sigh left his mouth as she brought up the nickname, “Ha ha,” his tone was flat but light, “I was hoping I would’ve lived that down by now,” As cold as he wanted to act in front of Thomas the stranger, he couldn’t help the warmth that spread in his chest as he remembered some of his last moments at camp.

Thomas’ eyes danced between the two as he observed their interaction. This was the part of being one of the newer counselors that was the hardest to brush off. There was so much lore and everyone had so much history that it was difficult to really feel like he was a part of the counselors. Like being in a live audience: sure, it was a very interactive, immersive and engaging experience. But at the end of the day, you’re still just an audience member, only slightly removed from someone at home playing the tape.

Choosing to push all that aside though, he bubbled up a laugh and started moving with Harper. He saw the bags that she had left behind, but it seemed those were for Shiloh. Even if they weren’t Thomas wasn’t easily described as a gentleman, nor was he particularly chivalrous. Specifically not to a lady he just met. So, after sparing the bags a quick glance, he continues walking with Harper.

“Perhaps not as much as I talk, but I’d say I’m at least a decent walker,” he declared with a small shrug, characteristic half smile stuck to his lips. “Plus,” he added, his smirk only growing as he looked down at himself; trousers damp and shirt hung over his shoulders, “Dinner’s soon and I fear I’m a little underdressed. Was actually heading to the cabins myself before I bumped into you two.” He kept walking but tilted his head slightly as he considered something, then his gaze leveled and moved between the two. “I don’t suppose either of you are in Cabin 1?”

Dinner’s soon―Do not remind me. Harper rolled her eyes upward at the mention of dinnertime closing in, and still felt the annoyance threaten to dance across the rest of her face in spite of Thomas’ change of subject. However, another thought cooled the frustration, and she chose to ignore the helping hands that replaced the other cook in the kitchen to validate it:

Juliette owes me anyway, the brunette decided, before averting her attention to Shiloh.

Shiloh’s eyes stayed trained on Thomas as he spoke. Being almost completely cynical towards new people, especially with the given circumstances, Shiloh wasn’t about to write anyone off as harmless. On the other hand, he didn’t want to jump the gun on the first new counselor he came across.

“We are currently homeless, actually,” The poor attempt of a joke came out of his mouth, “Something about the early bird gets the worm,” his lips pressed into a small, thin line as he continued walking with the group, his eyes glancing over to Harper to try and get a read of what she thought of Thomas.

Harper’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at his poor attempt to remain friendly with Thomas, the lack of humor in his tone making the joke fall flat. And that tight-lipped smile―yikes. Still, she shrugged off her friend’s behavior, reducing it to the years lost between them that coaxed her friend into becoming a shell of his former self. Cautious. Defensive. Paranoid.

“Could be if I wanted to though,” Harper stated blatantly at Thomas’ inquiry, throwing a glance at the first cabin, yet ultimately deciding that it was a hard pass when she didn’t spare more than a second looking at it. “Leon didn’t tell us where we’re sleeping, so now we get to choose whichever one we want,” a smug smile adorned her features as she recounted the Supervisor’s mistake, though she wasn’t ingenious about her joy in getting to choose. Having options meant ensuring that everything was up to Harper’s standards for the next two weeks, and judging by Thomas’ choice of clothing―or, lack of―cabin one would be the furthest to adhere to them. I’ve seen enough.

The homeless comment was enough to get Thomas to raise a brow. He hadn't expected the punishment for coming a single day late to be that you don't get assigned a cabin. Although...

Contemplative eyes studied Shiloh. The words sounded like the make of a joke but the delivery was...abysmal. Heartbreaking even. We'll have to work on your jokes, bud.

His eyes slowly panned back over to Harper as she started speaking again. They get to choose, huh? His gaze bounced between the two of them. They seemed close and he expected that they'd want to stay in the same cabin. Although, he would far prefer one over the other; the one who seemed to have more personality at the moment at least.

"Ah, I see." Thomas turned to look at the cabins, eyes passing slowly from one to the other. "Well, wish I could tell you which ones are good and which are bad, but...well...I can't say that I've cared enough to know which ones they are."

His gaze returned to the two he was speaking with, his hands finding comfortable spots in his pockets. "But you two seem like a decent bunch." he stole the quickest―nigh imperceptible―glance at Shiloh, "For the most part, at least. So I'm sure you'll find somewhere nice to hole up."

Shiloh’s eyebrows found their regular resting position, scrunched together right above his eyes. For the most part? The hell? It was far too late for him to try and control his face, even though there was no effort being put into fixing his current face.

It was truly a strange feeling, returning to the place that felt like home and yet feeling like an utmost stranger. Back when Shiloh was a camper, nobody ever spoke to him like this; passive aggressive or filled with hidden meanings. He was Shiloh Twine, not that he was drunk with power or anything, but people knew who he was. He had a reputation of being a likeable camper, of never turning down a dare and never backing down from a fight. Although, the more Shiloh mulled it over, the more he realized he was a completely changed person.

Nine years was such a long time to be gone. Shiloh couldn’t explain it, but when he had committed to returning to Evergreen there was a part of him that looked at the camp like a time capsule. That he would return and be welcomed with open arms, and he would blossom right back into his old self again. Break out of the tattered, broken, and unrecognizable shell he slipped into from the past nine years and be right back to his happy, cheerful, full of spirit self.

But upon closer inspection, Shiloh continued to realize that wasn’t the case at all. Just from how people treated him upon his return, from his closest friends to complete strangers, he was slapped in the face with reality. That he had left these people and not spoken to them for nine whole years. And the shell? The tattered, broken, unrecognizable shell that he thought he could break out of? It proved to be who he solidified into. This was the new him, having a resting scowl at every new encounter with a new counselor.

“Cool dude,” Shiloh’s voice came out flat, once again. “Thanks so much for your help,” try as he might, Shiloh’s voice reeked of sarcasm as he shot a glance to Harper, Can you believe this guy?

With pursed lips, Harper fought against the amusement threatening to fracture her neutral expression at Thomas’ quip―failing, however, when she chanced a fleeting gaze to Shiloh who was looking for validation from her. The Evergreen only offered a shrug though, as she leisurely advanced toward him and retrieved her luggage from his hands.

Though Harper returned with the intentions of scoping out the counselors who last saw Paige and Renee alive, coupling with the unwavering trust she had for the Twine sibling, nothing about Mode seemed out of the ordinary. He was snarky with a too-cool demeanor to pair with the emboldened attitude; if anything, Harper assumed that made him less suspicious standing against men and women of little words to share. For now, at least, Thomas didn’t drop to red on her radar.

He’s harmless, her expression read exclusively for Shiloh before backing away with the handle of her suitcase pressed firmly against her palm. “Yeah, Thomas...” spinning on her heel to look toward him again, Harper let her gaze travel across him in a studious fashion before returning to his eyes. “Thanks.” Though, being one of the Evergreens that never bit her tongue, she hadn’t stopped there.

“But, just for next time? The ‘grand tour’ of The Row can do with more of this―” with a flick of her hand, she motioned toward his face before dragging the attention down to his exposed abdomen, “―and a lot less of that. Think you can manage?” the rhetorical question was posed with a playful, yet equally domineering attitude as Harper sealed her request with a smile and started for no cabin in particular.

Thomas was well-versed in the art of sarcasm. In fact, he was an expert in it, and so he recognised it when he received it from Shiloh. However, he also understood that he deserved it, given that he had been rather sarcastic himself. Although, in all his sarcasm, he'd only thrown what he saw as harmless jabs. It would seem, however, that this one―whose name he still hadn't managed to catch―wasn't exactly a fan of those jabs. He'd have to be mindful of that next time. But for now, Thomas wouldn't be apologising. His pride wouldn't allow it.

His attention then turned back to Harper, raising a brow at her comments and a half smirk playing on his lips. There were a couple of things he could say in return, but she'd started walking off before he could. And chasing after her just to get a clap back in would be a horrendous look.

Rather, he hung back and moved closer to Shiloh. "Hey," he started casually, as though he were about to talk about the weather. "You two seem close, so I guess you're about as good as anyone else to tell. Keep an eye out for her, yeah? She's a firecracker, and these woods seem to love firecrackers. I'd hate for her to go missing; wouldn't you?"

Thomas clapped him on the shoulder twice before walking off toward Cabin 1, throwing a nonchalant two-fingered salute over his shoulder at Shiloh. Was there a better way he could have phrased his concern? Most certainly, but he also wasn't one to overthink how his words came across. "I'll see you around..." Oh yeah, I don't know his name "...not newbie."
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: the entire scope of human emotion tbh

LOCATION: the forest surrounding camp
basics
MENTIONS:
n/a

INT: spareparts spareparts
tags
TL;DR After the news of Lisa’s disappearance breaks, Ramona makes a run for it, but she doesn’t have to bear the weight alone; Lou finds her at their old hiding spot, where he suggests they get away for a while; after a hike, they have lunch and go for a climb, then make the short trek to Lou’s cabin; the two take an unexpected trip down memory lane; Mona is given a postcard and locket that Lou collected during his travels; they have a moment that is derailed by nerves, leaving them to question their feelings as they head back to camp.
tl;dr
into the woods
mona & lou
Jesus..

The last thing Lou expected was another disappearance. At first, it was hard not to group Lisa’s absence in with the Evergreen sisters, but he forced a stoic composure and listened carefully. Truth or Dare he could surely live without, a drink however.. not a bad idea.

Ramona was on her feet before she could even register her own actions, wordlessly moving away from her friends and toward the exit. The things they’d been laughing about only moments prior seemed so trivial now. Leon’s announcement echoed like an alarm bell in her head: She’s been declared missing. She’s been declared missing. She’s been—

The brunette’s hand raised to her chest, rubbing against the yellow fabric of her tank top. It felt hard to breathe suddenly, like the air was being siphoned out of the dining hall and left with nothing but a stifling heat.

Mona quickened her steps. She needed to get out.

Yet, the morning breeze did little to ease Ramona’s struggle as she burst clumsily out of the building. She was vaguely aware of the door swinging open to reveal a pair of girls and the fact that she’d passed too closely to them in her haste to put distance between herself and Leon’s announcement—as if she could somehow outrun the bad news. The brunette opened her mouth to stutter out an apology, but the bitter call that followed in her wake told her that she hadn’t managed to produce anything other than a startled grunt.

For so long, Mona had privately scrutinized those who treated the Evergreens’ disappearance as a deeply-cutting loss—they were both horrible, and their absence was a relief that few people seemed to acknowledge—but currently, she was being spoon-fed her harsh judgements on a silver platter.

Lisa was better than them, though. She didn’t deserve this.

The dread settling heavily into the pit of Ramona’s stomach like it was coming home after a long vacation was unwelcome but inescapable, as she was sure so many others at the camp could tell her.

For a place entrusted by some of the West Coast’s wealthiest families to look out for their children, Camp Evergreen had horrible luck with keeping track of their counselors.

Lou’s gaze shifted to Mona, but she was already moving—quick to rise and rush past the tables down the hall. He looked away, cracking the knuckles on his right hand one by one, the feeling of disinterest settling in. He wasn’t inclined to stick around much longer.

He made his way to the coffee station, topped off his mug a bit and downed the rest in one go. With a soft clink, he placed the empty mug in the dirty dishes bin by the door. Stepping out into the fresh air, the shining sun was a stark contrast against the dark raft of the news. He didn’t know Lisa well—only having been around her just a few times since she’d started at Evergreen right before he left. If Lou remembered right, the two girls had clashed often in that short amount of time—both lacking the ability in holding their tongues against each other. He didn’t fully understand why Mona was so afflicted over it now, but then again, there had to have been a lot about her he'd have to learn.

Mona was nowhere to be found. Must’ve really hurried out somewhere..

Placing a cigarette between his teeth, he walked out into the forest.

Lou found it strange, how life seemed to throw unforeseen situations at you the older you got. You grow up, and suddenly, people you once knew as kids were getting married with a baby on the way—or getting arrested for some crime you wouldn’t expect—or dying in car crashes. Some rising to the top of some corporate ladder, while others simply..

disappeared without a trace.

He wasn’t a stranger to odd circumstances. His entire life had been marked by them. Raised by his grand uncle, Lou had heard his fair share of stories—tales from men who seemed ancient when he was a child. Men who would share their lives over a drink, only for Lou to overhear, years later, that they had passed on quietly, their stories feeling untold to anyone but him.

And his father, an enigma from the start–the very reason why his life had to change so much in the first place. His sweet, but stifled mother, whose absence he'd cried over for years, until one day, he found a way to bury the pain and carry on without her. Muskogee and it’s rolling hills–grasslands and dirt roads with stories of families only he seemed to remember in some faint dream state. All the memories stretched farther and farther the older he got.

For a moment, he wondered if the present would eventually become just another foggy scene—one he'd stumble upon years down the line, perhaps while taking a walk like this.

Lou couldn’t for the life of him understand why things happened the way they did. It was easy to brush off each twist of fate with a simple ‘things happen for a reason’ and move on, but when something bad happened that explanation felt a hell of a lot harder to swallow. Or maybe the struggle to accept it was in part of him less willing to make peace without putting up a fight. Either way, it was hard not to reflect on where it all might’ve gone wrong. He never really knew how to act in times like these.

Lou shook his head, taking another drag, his boots kicking up dust as he paced along the dirt path. He figured there wasn’t much of a reason to fixate on anything and everything if he could help it.

His thoughts drifted to Mona—a soft image of her formed in his mind, standing by the lake, eyes fixed on the water from the old swing set they used to meet at as kids.

I wonder where she ran off to.

The wind ruffled Ramona’s hair, book pages crinkling in her lap. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to fetch this month’s reading from her cabin—how she’d even managed to remember it existed in her state. The lines of ink failed to distract her as she’d, no doubt, hoped they would. Each time she looked down, the letters blended together, and eventually, she stopped trying.

The toes of the brunette’s sneakers dug into the earth below her, well-worn from years of doing that same thing, as she swayed absentmindedly on the swing, watching the lake’s water stir.

It’d always been the most peaceful spot at camp, but the uneasiness plaguing Mona’s restless mind was spoiling it.

When things went awry, aimless strolling often left Lou feeling unfulfilled. As if something might suddenly occur to him—some insight that could stitch together what'd come undone. And sometimes it did with tangible, more straightforward problems. But more often than not, was it complex problems—the ones with no easy resolutions—that drove him to take these walks in the first place.

He didn’t plan on walking for very long. Lou still had quite a few hours before he was needed at the farmyard, plenty of time to either hit an easy climb or at least scout a good one out for later and just free climb around the area. Or, if he felt like it, he could find a quiet spot to finally finish his Hemingway.

As the top of the bluff came into view, the sound of birds above cut through the air. It was then that he finally felt a quietness settle in—far enough from the chatter of campers and now the noise of his own restless thoughts.

The long braided rope seemed to shift slightly, the subtle movement piquing Lou's attention. He tilted his head, trying to get a better look, but it was too far, too obscured by the branches, to tell for sure if the swings were in use from where he stood.

Wouldn’t hurt to check. Just in case.

The idea of possibly finding her in their old childhood spot gave him a flicker of subtle hope, though his intuition seemed to drive him to cross paths with the swings either way. After all, it used to be a frequent spot of childhood comfort. And with a hell of a view.

“Ramona, Ramona..” Lou hummed under his breath a Bob Dylan tune to himself, “Ramona, where’d ya go now…”

The wind felt cool against his skin, while the sun began to warm the landscape. Of all the places he'd been, no summer compared to Oregon mountain ranges. Warm enough for anything, yet never unbearable, no matter the time of day. Just perfect.

The steepness of the bluff’s incline eased, and Lou held back a smile as her figure came into view.

“Don’t know why, but somethin’ told me you might be here.”

He stepped forward, and turned to gaze over the water stretching out before them.

When a voice cut through the calm, Ramona sniffed, fingers darting up to swipe at the dampness beneath her eyes. How long had she been crying?

The novel fell shut in her lap as Mona shifted in the swing’s seat to peer up at Lou, her feet now solidly planted on the dirt. Something warm blossomed in her chest, beneath the cold tendrils of anxiety threatening to ensnare her heart.

There was a familiar sort of irony to the situation. The brunette couldn’t recall when exactly this particular overhang had taken on the role of their designated meeting area for when the pair wanted to escape the hubbub of Evergreen, but it’d been that way for as far back as she could remember. Even after Lou had left, Ramona had continued the tradition, much to Lisa’s dismay, as she’d had no clue where to find her. Despite the cruel passing of years, the two were still being drawn there—Mona, in search of refuge, and Lou, following a blind intuition.

“I guess some things don’t change,” she admitted.

And there was solace to be discovered in that, particularly in a time such as this.

Lou’s expression turned solemn watching her adjust her demeanor for him, even in the slightest. From what he recalled, she didn’t ever cry often, and seeing her do so—even just a little—brought a sense of unease.

“I’m sorry about Lisa.” He said, “This place can’t seem t’ catch a break.”

He wasn’t sure what else there was to say. It would be comforting to place some hope in law enforcement—to believe they could find her and bring her back safe. But Easthallow didn’t have the kind of reputation that inspired any confidence in things like that.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for yet.” Ramona swallowed, jaw setting.

Is it happening again? 76% of missing adults are found within the first 24 hours, and the chances of being located after that, alive, are smaller each day. It’s been almost a week already, and the last thing Lisa would want is to become a statistic alongside Renee and Paige, of all people—

“They could still find her.”

Anyone that knew Lisa was well-aware of how resourceful she was—it was part of what made her and Mona such a dynamic team. Strong and determined, she was more than capable of taking care of herself in most situations, so why was Ramona doubting that fact now?

Lou clenched his jaw, allowing her the time to find the right words.

His apologies weren’t exactly aimed at suggesting Lisa’s disappearance would follow the same grim pattern the town had grown used to, but the way he said it and with the look on his face, it sure made it seem that way. Time would tell, but it unsettled him all the same. With each passing second, the anxiety crept in that Lisa could be in some kind of trouble none of them knew about. It didn’t do anyone favors to revel in the unknown, but he also wasn’t one to feed false hope.

The brunette inhaled sharply, realizing her mistake. “They will.”

Yet, in spite her abrupt change of tune, Mona couldn’t stop the words that came tumbling out of her mouth next: “Jonathan never should’ve opened the camp again. Not after what happened—he should know that.”

“You’re right.” He exhaled, the urge for another cigarette nagged for him, though he knew it was just an impending distraction from the discomfort building around what was quickly starting to feel like a nightmarish start to the summer session.

Ramona breathed a humorless laugh. “That’s not nearly as satisfying to hear as it usually is.”

Lou thought back to the share of words between him and Paige’s father the day he accepted the job. It seemed it was tough for Jonathan to even consider, though surely it was in an act of hope–perseverance, attempted optimism–that drove him to reopen the camp. It was hard to tell if it really was in bad taste, but if Lisa stayed missing much longer, it’d get a hell of a lot harder to defend the guy—“I imagine grief can mess with your better judgement, but–”

–so he didn’t bother.

“At times I wonder whose interest he’s really serving.”

If it were me.. my daughter.. There’s no way.

Lou shook his head, “Nothin’ worth spendin’ time—rackin’ the brain over, I guess.”

Mona nodded in agreement. “It’s too late to worry about it now. We’re already here.”

For better or worse.

While Ramona may have been proud of who she’d grown to be, she missed the carelessness of her childhood summers. With bruised shins and scraped elbows, it never occurred to her that there was any kind of danger lurking within the boundaries of Camp Evergreen beyond what was self-inflicted during her rowdy adventures. Ignorance was rarely a good thing, but if she could go back to experience the blissfulness of it again for even a day, Mona would hesitate before dismissing the idea as ultimately impossible.

She was stuck in the present—stuck at this camp—and she felt utterly useless in the grand scope of problems now presenting themselves.

"Hey I, uh, wanted to tell you somethin'," Lou cut in, "Last night, my whole cabin got woken up by this loud crash. So we all went outside to see what happened, an’ the glass was splintered pretty bad. Traces of blood on the wood, an’... I dunno, some kinda fur—feathers?"

Thinking back on it now he was fairly amused by the whole thing even right up until Leon’s grave announcement was he eager to retell it, yet somehow the humor didn’t land in the same way.

“The lot of us were convinced it was just some fluke accident, like a bird or somethin’.” He continued, “—an’ JC was dead set we tell Jonathan right then in the middle of the night, but it seemed unnecessary to make a fuss when there wasn’t any real danger. Damn near flipped out on me too, jus' t'go hike off somewhere an' keep a watch.”

Considering JC seemed perfectly fine at breakfast, it seemed like nothing really warranted getting worked up about the ordeal. Still, Lou did wonder if maybe JC had seen something. Though he wasn’t about to ask the guy; after the tense exchanges the night before, he was grateful to be away from him for a while.

Ramona’s eyebrows raised, mouth twitching—not quite a smile, but as much of one as she could muster at the moment at Lou’s attempts to lift her spirits. “Something hit the window hard enough to leave blood, and JC’s idea of a solution was to…what, hold a one-man stakeout in case it came back? Was he planning on fighting it off with his bare hands? Putting it out of its misery?” She shook her head. “Can’t say I’m surprised, honestly. Any excuse to play hunter in the woods, and JC is there.”

It was odd how differently people could turn out from how they were as kids, like somewhere along the way, wires crossed and attributes—once such a staple part of one’s personality—were lost in translation. Mona couldn’t say much in terms of passing judgment—she wasn’t exactly a carbon-copy of the thirteen-year-old that’d spent her afternoons climbing jagged rock formations and jumping out of swings, but there were still remnants of her left behind. JC, on the other hand—he’d always been a shy kid, but his rough edges had become much more hardened, and with his knack for wanting to kill any living creature he viewed as a threat, it was almost scary. Ramona couldn’t consider him a friend anymore. Whatever version of JC existed now…she hardly knew him.

“Yup–jus’ like him to do that.” Lou agreed with a half-hearted smirk.

Despite the bad blood accrued in recent years, they'd been through too much for Lou to dislike him at all. Even now, with everything that had happened, there was something familiar about the way he fumbled through life, always drawn to some trouble, always with that same eager disposition. It made any bitter feelings toward JC reduce to something cheap, temporary—like a bad joke with no reason to tell it. The more Lou thought about JC, the more the reason behind their animosity grated on him—especially since JC was, well, irritating too. He had a stubborn knack for making everything more complicated than it needed to be.

Fair, I guess.

Lou figured JC was probably right to widen the gap in their already fractured friendship, but he wasn’t in the mood to think about any of that right now.

“Do you think he gets paid extra for all his hard work?” Ramona doubted it. All the unnecessary patrols and attempts at tracking down animals who had far better things to do than engage in a game of tag with JC—it did more harm than good, and Hugo was never afraid to loudly proclaim his distaste for how the younger man stepped on his toes, interfering with work he had no business meddling in. Likewise, Mona was fairly certain that ‘chasing wounded critters into the night’ wasn’t included in JC’s job description, but he was inclined to pencil things into the margins as he saw fit.

“Nah, who are we kidding?”

It’d be like forking money over to a toddler to eat candy all day—they’d be just as happy to do it for free, so why waste funds on it that would be better applied elsewhere?

“Yea, I think he’d do it all either way—sticks to what he knows an’ he don’t quit.” Lou replied, his eyes now resting on a bluebird who’d flown to rest atop the branch adjacent to the swings, “Even when it ain’t asked for.. nor wanted.”

“The day JC learns to stay in his lane, pigs will start flying.”

Lou stepped behind her and placed his hands on the ropes that held the wooden bench steady above her. For a moment he squinted against the shimmering light catching his eye from this angle, the sunlight dancing across the lakefront—bright and beautiful. A few campers made their way to the beach, some with fishing poles in hand, others already wading into the water; an indication first activities had commenced.

In the time that the pair had been at the overlook, the sun had crept its way to a higher point in the expanse of blue overhead, spreading its rays across the camp, and with Lou’s tall figure acting as a shield to the breeze, Ramona quickly heated up, though she didn’t mind. She preferred it to the chill that had nipped at her skin when she’d initially stepped out of Kestrel that morning.

So much had happened since then—it was as if the stress of an entire week had been crammed into the span of only a few hours.

Across the lake, the rest of their peers were beginning their hectic days, leading the kids left under their care through the beginning stages of the schedule laid out for them by Leon, carrying on with typical business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. Really, what choice did they have? It wasn’t like they could drop everything to mourn the abrupt, foul turn of events—as much as Mona didn’t want to, she’d be forced into making that same decision soon enough.

The brunette glanced down at the watch adorning her wrist. They still had a while before lunch, but if they left now, they wouldn’t have to hurry, and she tilted her head back to see Lou as she vocalized that sentiment but stopped short.
From where he was standing, towering above her seat, Lou was backlit by sunshine, hair glowing gold in the light like some sort of halo. The sight was something reminiscent of a Renaissance painting, all soft brushstrokes and vibrant colors.

Stop it.

Mona blinked, eyebrows pinching together as she cleared her throat. “We should get going,” she said at last. “As much as I’d like to, we can’t hide up here all day the way we used to.”

Lou gave a slow nod, his gaze lingering on the distant mountain peaks that loomed over the camp. He shifted slightly, removing his grip on the ropes and leaning back against the tree.

“You doin' anything for lunch?” he asked, "There's this boulder not too far behind the dining hall I wanted t’ practice grips at. If you wanna come, we could…get food–bring it up there," He glanced down at her, his expression subtly hopeful.

He’d go up there either way, sure, but something about reconnecting with her again made him want to stay close—just for a bit longer.

He wasn’t exactly in the mood for anyone, not yet. His years of drifting alone had made him more comfortable with silence than small talk, and now that Lou was back in the mix with old faces and strangers alike, it was all a little draining for him. But with her, it felt different. Familiar. He didn’t have to put on a face for the sake of anything at all. The consistency was nice—something he forgot he really liked about Ramona.

An exhale escaped Mona—one she hadn’t even realized she was holding. At last, her expression softened, anxious creases in her forehead smoothing as she rose to her feet, book tucked in one hand as the other reached up to brush a few stray pieces of hair behind her ear. “That sounds nice,” she answered. “I stole some snacks from the kitchen last night, too, so if lunch sucks we could always eat those instead.”

Ramona wasn’t sure how much food she could stomach currently, but she didn’t want to waste that space on Juliette’s lackluster cooking. Again.

“The food’s not that bad, breakfast was alright,” He recalled, letting a small chuckle escape, “That soup-stew thing last night was somethin’ else though.”

“Yeah,” Ramona agreed with a short laugh. “In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have given her all those carrots. I thought with Leon helping her, they’d come up with something better than that, but…” She allowed her voice to trail off. Complaints about having put her trust in the wrong people yet again would get her nowhere.

“Next time, I’ll give her tomatoes. Those should be harder to mess up, right?”

Knowing Juliette, however, she had a special knack for screwing up just about any good thing that came her way.

There was a relief in knowing that Mona didn’t have to be alone with her worries, as much as she’d tried to be in her haste to distance herself from the prying eyes of those who wouldn’t understand the situation—whatever Lou’s reason was for wanting to avoid the others as well, she was grateful for his company. They didn’t have to divulge the depth or weight of their turmoils to be there for each other in their shared isolation, and there was beauty in that.

The irony, however, wasn’t totally lost on Ramona—how easily the roles had reversed now that history was repeating itself. When Lou had left Evergreen, Lisa was one of only three people that the brunette had willingly spoken to, and that longing for solitude only increased during the tumultuous aftermath of her break-up with Juliette a couple of years later. Now, with Lisa gone, Lou had fallen into her empty slot as best he could, though the mold didn’t quite fit right.

It wasn’t bad, just…different. Yet, the energy he provided—the diversion from her gloomy thoughts—was what Ramona needed.

“Fair warning, though. I probably won’t be as good as I used to be.”

Mona had quit going on climbs shortly after Lou’s departure—without him there to share in the experience, what was the point?—but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

“Don’t matter,” Lou shrugged, straightening off the tree and stepping forward into the forest with her. “I actually hurt myself not too long ago,” He said, rotating his shoulder at the reminder, “—mostly just wanted to get somethin’ in; blow some steam off.”

It had been almost 12 days since he’d missed a jump free-climbing just a mile up from his cabin—a stupid miscalculation, one he probably shouldn’t have made while completely alone. The fall itself had been easy enough—no fractures, nothing too serious and not from anything too high up either—just resulting in a dislocated shoulder that he’d had to pop back into place himself thereafter. It still left a reminder his shoulder would be sore for a few days more.

Ramona paused her footsteps. Overhead, the canopy of leaves rustled, shadows dancing across the pair as the tangle of branches swayed in a gentle breeze sweeping through the path. “Were you here?” It wasn’t any of her business—a fact that she knew well—but Mona couldn’t help the concern etching itself between her eyebrows. “If you needed a spotter, you could’ve asked. I’m always in the area.”

It wasn’t a truth she took pleasure in admitting—Ramona longed for the day her chapter in Easthallow would fall shut, giving way to bigger adventures beyond the small town she’d known for too long, but it was a selfish desire she wouldn’t dare vocalize, certainly not until Lisa’s safety was ensured.

Perhaps she was better off not having said anything. Lou’s antics were no one’s business but his own, after all, and the brunette only wished she didn’t still feel so obligated to play a part in them, even if it stemmed from a caring place.
Mona swallowed, resuming her initial pace as she picked along the dirt and rocks.

"I was," he confirmed half-heartedly.

When he'd first decided his stay would be more than temporary—only February then, still unsteady from withdrawal; his long months were spent across the lake struggling off and on for some kind of footing, a stability that only came with perseverance and solitude. Working odd jobs for long hours at the ranch, which sat mostly empty of people—the land and animals awaiting the finalization of sale to new owners. A spotter, he thought, had been the least of his interests—and certainly not from someone familiar. A part of him had recoiled from the idea, driven by a mix of guilt and indifference he felt toward seeing anyone he once knew, except for Nicolas, and maybe Levi now and then.

Ramona’s stomach twisted at the confession. How long had Lou been back?

A little over a month ago, after dropping Cooper off at school, the brunette had stumbled across an old book after getting an early start on her cleaning for the day. With the house to herself, it got lonely at times, but she’d learned that keeping herself busy was as good of a distraction as any other she could muster—at least this way, she could feel productive, and after making a habit of it for so long, it was hard to let herself sit idly by with a list of unspoken things to be accomplished. As Mona was vacuuming beneath her bed, the extension brush bumped into something, and upon lifting the fringe of her bed’s skirt, a book was discovered there.

Lou’s copy of On the Road by Jack Kerouac.

Ramona had promptly switched off the vacuum, plopping down in the floor to leaf through the pages. Lou’s writing was scrawled here and there, decorating the margins, along with her own—she dragged her index finger over the words; the pencil marks had faded slightly since they were first added, but the indentions were just as heavy in the paper as they had been on their first day.

It’d been a long time since Mona had allowed her mind to linger on the mystery of Lou’s whereabouts but she’d done so then. She was supposed to return the book, but he’d vanished before she’d had the chance—she only hoped that it was worth it, that he was content, wherever he was.

In hindsight, it seemed so silly, knowing there was a chance that Lou had been only a short drive away at that very moment.

“I, uh,” Lou started, feeling stumped by his thoughts, “Guess I just needed t’ be alone for a little while.”

The words tasted wrong, metallic and ill-formed—especially when he knew his silence coming back to Easthallow had nothing to do with her. Lou couldn’t quite fathom how the truth would sound coming from his lips, or what she might see when she looked at him if he were to lay bare how broken he really was. His own reflection seemed like a betrayal, a version of himself he couldn’t bear to confront, one he couldn’t face now that it had finally started to fade—any remnants in his mind now felt like paper cuts. To admit to Mona that he had wasted time on something so hollow, so destructive, seemed like reopening a wound he didn’t want to stitch closed all over again.

He glanced at her, willing himself to smooth away any trace of scorn that lingered beneath the surface. “But if you were around, I’d have probably saved the trouble.” —with a faint smile, one that felt less like an expression and more like an apology; one he wasn't sure she'd understand. To tamper with a history as pure as theirs, with all its childhood scars and quiet joys, felt like an act of betrayal. The simplicity of what once was, untainted by the weight of any evil, seemed too precious to stray from.

As the pink flush beneath her lashes began to fade, her features finally seemed to soften and Lou felt the pull to keep silent of his own troubles—all these outliers that filled the gaps. It mattered to him that she hold onto any moment of calm. Because things were sad enough as they were and he couldn't tell what the future held.

It was easier to say nothing; allow her some happiness—however small, however fleeting.

“That’s okay,” Ramona assured. “There’s nothing wrong with needing to be alone.” She offered Lou a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Ahead, the trees began to taper off, trail coming to an abrupt halt as the thick shrubbery cushioning the forest floor gave way to a lush carpeting of grass. For the second time that day, the camp’s inhabitants crowded toward the Dining Hall—Mona only hoped that their visit now would be brief and unhindered by any more unsettling developments.

The two made their visit to the dining hall quick, eager not to linger around too long. It felt like an unspoken gesture between them—at least, that’s how it felt to Lou, who was very appreciative of their mutual haste.

When they were growing up, the time spent with just the two of them seemed to take on some sort of safeguarding. It was almost telepathic—silent, yet clear—that whenever they needed to talk something out, seldom was anyone else invited. For Lou, it was always easier to speak his mind when it was just Ramona. Any excursion tied to those talks remained theirs alone. Naturally, there were times when Lou felt she might've missed his cue—that he wanted to voice something out in private, but it was hard to flat out say he needed her so he’d held some things back.

It was strange to think of their past that way. Yet, days spent on the road, Lou would catch himself wondering about those times—contemplating if he was the only one who remembered those little things. Or if, at some point, she had noticed it too.

For a moment a cool breeze ran through the trees as they approached the boulder–a sharp faced formation about 14 feet high. Below it, two smaller boulders faced each other, their edges softened by time, the grass beneath the face, a vibrant green, sheltered in the cool shadow of the towering figure. The gentle hum of a nearby creek created somewhat of a comfort, soft white noise to accompany the occasional singing birds and the rustling of trees.

"Sorry 'bout the walk," Lou said, setting down the lidded container of hotdogs, placing it carefully atop the paper bag it came in, and arranging the meal and napkins on the grass. With the back of his hand across his forehead, he momentarily squinted up at the top of the boulder. It loomed tall—its holds moderately tricky—but he'd climbed it a few times before. It would be a good way to ease back into climbing regularly again, he thought. He offered a smile Mona’s way, sitting down on the grass and crossing his legs, “Kinda nice though huh?”

“Don’t apologize,” Ramona said, the corners of her mouth ticking up. “It’s good exercise.” Plus, the further away we get from that damn camp, the better.

The brunette gratefully ducked into the swath of shade provided by the boulders, lowering herself onto the grassy patch, opposite Lou. It was a serene scene they’d wandered into—though the rest of Evergreen’s inhabitants were only a couple of miles away, the area gave an illusion of having been untouched by man: the ground wasn’t worn down in a well-trodden path from years of traffic, no crushed cans or cups left behind from late night gatherings. Their only company was each other and the birds circling far overhead—as hoped for.

“Yeah,” Mona agreed. “It’s peaceful—I didn’t even know this was out here.”

It was strange, considering how many excursions the two of them had been on throughout the years, that there could still be wonders left to discover. The same could, perhaps, also be said about their friendship. They knew one another so well—could anticipate the other’s next move based on nothing but trust in the fact that their habits hadn’t changed—yet there would always be something new to unearth as they grew. Despite falling into old routines, so much remained to be said about the last four years, the things that had shaped them into who they were now—the imperceptible differences in demeanor that hinted at deeper meanings yet to be deciphered.

Ramona reached forward, plucking a ketchup packet from their makeshift picnic spread and giving it a shake to ensure all its contents were pushed to one side for a cleaner opening. “Did I hear someone mention Truth or Dare while we were getting our food?” As much as she tried to suppress it, there was a hint of judgement in her tone.

“Yeah.. think so.” He said, before taking a hearty bite. One thing he had to relearn all over again after getting sober was sensing hunger properly and despite the mediocrity of a hotdog, it felt nourishing.

“You goin’?” He asked plainly, wiping his mouth with a napkin and tossing it back in the paper bag along with the empty paper tray. Lou sat with his arm draped over his knee, gazing up at the rock.

Ramona shrugged half-heartedly, taking a bite of her hotdog before promptly putting it down again—it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever eaten, but the thought of Truth or Dare made her stomach churn. In the past, Paige and Renee had always managed to concoct new and creative ways to make the night a living hell, but without them—without Lisa, more importantly—a new wave of trouble seemed to be building on the horizon. Was hanging out in the woods after dark really such a good idea?

“I don’t know,” Mona answered at last. “Probably not. It doesn’t feel right—not with Lisa gone.” She swallowed, brow furrowing. “The timing of it… What was Leon even thinking?” The question came out more harshly than the brunette had intended, but fear made people angry, and Ramona was…frustrated, at the very least. Not at Leon, despite what her words may have implied, but at how the situation was being handled in general. Why does no one care?

Mona’s eyes found Lou’s again after having drifted away with her thoughts. “Are you going?” she asked. “It’s okay if you are.” An afterthought, considering her initial reaction—everyone was entitled to their own opinions. “I get it.”

Lou nodded silently in agreement with the way Leon handled the news. He didn’t expect otherwise from his old friend—something told him Leon didn’t mean it so carelessly, as if he was more fixated on spotlighting a party than respecting Lisa’s disapperance. But in all honesty, Lou didn’t know Leon much at all anymore. Four years of time sowed seeds of doubt like nothing else.

Regardless, he sympathized with Mona more. It seemed out of touch to party after all the back-to-back tragedies. It made him contemplate going for a moment, but more so was he put off by playing Truth or Dare. He didn’t care for the game at all. Admittedly, he cared only for the drinks and there was no point in hiding that.

“Well, I was hopin’ to meet up with Nic tonight—an’ Levi.” He shrugged, getting off the ground and cracking his knuckles, “—An’ if it got weird, make an exit.”

Lou grabbed his t-shirt, tossing it over his head and onto the grass beside them, “You too—” He said with a grunt, making his first small leap to hang on an edge near the base of the boulder, putting the next arm up to test a hold above him. His trail sneakers weren’t optimal, but they’d get the job done–allowing Lou to hoist himself up just enough to grab the hold properly.

Despite having spent their fair share of time together in the small town, Nicolas wasn’t someone that Ramona held synonymous with the camp that Easthallow housed—to her knowledge, he’d never been a camper there, and she hadn’t realized that he was currently at Evergreen; then again, Hugo had mentioned something about him earlier, though her mind had been too preoccupied to recall what exactly. She was about to inquire about the context when her own name was thrown into the mix within the same breath that Lou’s shirt was tugged off and discarded, and she stopped, blinking.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—they’d been in similar situations along the course of their friendship, but something about the way Lou had done it this time…
Mona shut her mouth—still poised to speak—so tightly her jaw clenched.

Focus.

“I could go for a little while, I guess,” the brunette decided, busying herself with stuffing what remained of her lunch back into its container. “It’d be such a pity for all those drinks to go to waste, after all.” I could use one right about now.

If only Lisa could hear Ramona, she’d be proud—in all her attendances to Truth or Dare, the girl had made it an ongoing goal of sorts to get her fellow farmer to loosen up, one that could be crossed off only after she was no longer present to relish in her victory. Mona wasn’t typically one for indulging in alcohol for the fun of it, save for on special occasions—a category that Evergreen’s hellish night of festivities didn’t qualify for—claiming that she could find means to entertain herself perfectly fine while sober, but it was a fairly reliable crutch when things turned sour. So she had heard, anyway, and the brunette couldn’t imagine that anything from Easthallow’s liquor store could make her feel any worse than she already did.

Ramona rose to her feet, moving to lean against the boulder’s rough surface. “I don’t have a costume, though,” she continued, arms crossing as she mulled over the contents of her trunk in some vain effort to scrounge something together. Truly, she had no desire to dress up—much like when the event had rolled around each time before—and given how she had spared a bag of chips for Leon the evening prior, she might be able to talk herself out of the “mandatory costume rule,” if she was lucky. Of course, Lisa would’ve managed to pull a last-minute ensemble together for her, and for someone so independent, Mona would’ve let her, but she couldn’t count on her anymore. “Did you bring anything?”

The blonde listened, but his mind was fixed elsewhere. The sun steadily neared the highest point among its stretch of blue, only the sharp face of granite interrupted its rays. His fingers felt the ache, grip after grip pulling him closer to the top. His breath quickened for a moment, a final effort he felt approaching fast. Breathe. The essential aspect often fell short for him until he became surprised with its need. Lou paused, suspended by just the strength in his arms. Man, are you out of shape. Than finally an exhale. Gaining his footing once more, he surged upward and the last of his crawl succeeded him atop.

He steadied his breathing now, slightly squinted eyes scanning what he could see just below the horizon. Lou could see the tops of mountains—the Columbia River Gorge, just beyond them. A favorite of his—St. Peters Dome—a monolith of volcanic rock, could only be seen slightly, but he knew it was there.

He peered down, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over him as he adjusted his position at the top until the dark bob of her hair entered his line of sight once more. Lou had only caught the ends of her words, quickly putting the pieces of conversation back together, "Costume? No." His fingers brushed against the strands of hair clinging to his forehead, a subtle reminder a haircut was in his near future, “I don’t even remember the last time I dressed up for anythin’.”

"..Maybe I was dependin' on you for that," He teased, moving down the rock's west side until his feet slid along the small face of the cliff and back onto solid ground.

As Lou descended from his perch atop the large stone, Ramona’s gaze followed his movements in case he slipped—more attentively this time; the distance between them meant that she was no longer quite so concerned with looking anywhere but at what was at eye-level, more or less.

Jesus, he got tall.

The brunette pushed away from the slab of rock in favor of resting her hands on her hips as Lou approached, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Oh, is that so?” Mona clicked her tongue, head shaking in faux disapproval. “Rookie mistake.”

Ramona didn’t get particularly attached to clothes—growth spurt after growth spurt in her childhood never allowed much of an opportunity to, her closet a rotating door for hand-me-downs from a cousin she rarely spoke to, and the lack of sentiment was too deeply ingrained to change her ways now. Whenever the young woman suspected an article of clothing was no longer of any use to her, she tossed it into a donation box without a second thought beyond, someone else needs this more than me. Cutting down on clutter was only an added bonus, however, it was always such a permanent decision in hindsight—all her costumes of Halloween past were long gone when she realized they might come in handy once more. “Unless you want to be the other half to ‘person who can’t be bothered to dress up,’ I’ve got nothing for you.”

“Sounds like us,” Lou said, his expression soft as he soaked in one last view of the rock face, the endorphins from the climb still humming through his veins, “Maybe we’ll roll in late too, that way everyone’s too drunk to give us shit about a costume..” He bent down for his shirt, and with it, wiping the sweat from his brow before pulling it back on.

Ramona narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, humming in agreement. “Last to arrive, first to Irish goodbye? I like the way you think.” She lifted an index finger, tapping her temple with a small, knowing smile. Lou presented a good argument—there was no point in adding insult to injury, since most people wouldn’t recall the night’s activities in great detail by the next morning anyway. The game of choice was bad enough, but the addition of a dress code was like tying a ribbon onto a pile of shit—it was especially humiliating to be verbally eviscerated while dressed as a hotdog or a fairy princess. Fitting for a tradition so ardently held up by someone such as Renee, though Mona doubted that Leon recognized the degrading quality of it. He just took any opportunity he could to get wasted in the woods with his friends.

“Hey,” he shifted tone, adjusting the thin gunmetal chain around his neck. “The cabin’s not too far from here, you mind if we make a quick stop?”

Lou swept up whatever remnants of trash were around, including some stragglers disconnected from their visit, and placed them in the empty paper bag. “I, uh, wanted t’ shower, double check that it’s all locked up too.”

With a glance over his shoulder, Lou met her eyes with sincerity, “And I just remembered, I have somethin’ for you.”

Instinctively, Ramona’s feet were already moving as if to head toward the trail—an unspoken agreement to his suggestion—but Lou’s last words halted her in her tracks. Her eyelashes fluttered in surprise, gaze widening as she fought a failing battle against the grin that spread across her face. “You do?” He really had thought about her in their time apart, and the realization came with a warmth that crept from her chest to her cheeks, and she averted her attention away—hopefully—before Lou could register the pink dusting there.

The brunette needed no tempting to visit the old house—she hadn’t been there in years, and the prospect of seeing it again made her nostalgic for simpler times—but her piqued curiosity was an added bonus. Yet, there was the accompanying guilt of not having anything to offer in return, so Mona was quick to add, “I should’ve brought your book with me—I still have it at home somewhere.” The statement likely didn’t provide any real comfort, however, save for the fact that she was still aware she had it and that it hadn’t fallen victim to the everlasting mess of her bedroom. “Are you sticking around after the session? I could give it to you then.” A poorly-veiled attempt at gauging how much time they had. Please, don’t leave again. Not yet.

His brow furrowed, a brief but telling shift in expression to her inquiry. Lou moved quickly, sidestepping before her to lead them into a shortcut. Through a narrow crevice of jagged earth and among exposed roots, they climbed back up towards another pathway hidden below the towering trees.

"Uh, I don't.. know actually."

Lou had spent the last few years in search of solace, only finding a fleeting comfort in the temporary; it was never clear how long he would stay. It was true, perhaps, he knew he had nothing planned. For now. Although something held his tongue back, a fear he’d only be making false promises to Mona if he said so. There wasn’t any reason to tell her he’d stick around if he found himself ultimately drawn to leaving. Often these decisions unearthed and cemented themselves rashly, on impulse, even to his own surprise. He refused to be the kind of man who strung someone along with words that would only slip away in a sudden instance. It was bad enough he’d inadvertently stretched their distance without much of a warning and all for the sake of his selfish whim. And more than anything, Lou didn’t want to let her down again.

“...I’ll stick around for it though.” he settled, trying to come off more secure than he felt. It sounded like both an answer and a question.

Ramona nodded wordlessly, ducking around a branch, weighed down by an abundance of green shrubbery, hanging low in her path. The uncertainty in Lou’s voice was unmistakable—even the more definitive of his two answers almost seemed to lilt at the end, taking on the form of an inquisition. A part of Mona wondered if it was an attempt at a lie for her sake—was he trying to offer some sort of comfort in light of the day’s events by throwing false hope at her? As soon as her mind wandered there, however, she pushed the thought aside, swallowing the disappointment rising in her throat. She didn’t want to believe that she was a burden, some sad thing that people frowned at and pitied, like a flea-ridden stray dog. She considered telling Lou that he didn’t have to stay—as if he didn’t already know—but even that felt like a ploy for reassurance, so she kept her lips clamped shut as she picked carefully along the uneven trail, gaze fixed steadily on the ground.

The trees surrounded them like an intricate maze, the path to his cabin emerged much denser where the cabin concealed itself—only opening up from the cluster of brush in one area cleared a long time ago. It wasn’t as impressive as the kingly cabins up the road from Easthallow, the Dogtrot properties where rich folk from all over the country spent their summers—always closed up for the winters in a timely manner and checked on by maintenance teams year round. Kiln-dried, engineered or synthetic logs—nice, but expensive and overdone. Most of these people never did their own work on them anyways. Uncle Carlisle’s cabin was as plain and practical as could be, charming with its old school craftsmanship—logs made of the same red ceder standing tall and sturdy just steps from the porch.

The porch I ‘ought to redo soon.. “Watch out for that.” He motioned towards the crack in the weak wood by the railing as he climbed the steps to the door. Lou took out the dunnish leather bifold from his back pocket and fished out the brass key, slipping it into the knob and tinkering with the lock until it opened.

As the familiar peak of the cabin’s roof came into view between the thick veil of trees, Ramona’s feet carried her forward with a sort of muscle memory—she couldn’t recall the number of instances they’d hurried down that same path as children because one of their party had to use the bathroom or their water supply had run low while out on a hike—and the tension between her brows eased slightly. The house was older now, wood chipping and cracking in places it hadn’t been the last time Mona had visited, as Lou’s warning implied, but it hadn’t lost any of its quaint appeal of cozy solitude. Yet, outward appearances could be deceiving.

Without the impatience of preteens clamoring over the threshold or Lou’s great uncle to greet them on the other side with his complaints about the television not working properly, it was eerily silent in the wake of the door creaking open—a rather jarring realization, though the brunette wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting; she’d been blinded by nostalgia to assume that they’d be met with anything other than a quiet, empty house. Whatever deja vu still prickled at the back of Mona’s mind was met with a sense of sudden melancholy for livelier days.

It was much darker inside, the scene much like an old lady waiting her days out in a rocking chair, creaky and idle. The air in the cabin carried faint traces of tobacco and pine needles. A room exhaling time, heavy and patient, every shadow a memory soaked with the slow accumulation of days that had somehow passed unnoticed.

“I’d almost forgotten how it looked,” Ramona confessed, but as her dark eyes roved over the room before them, taking in each nook and cranny, she found remnants of the past still tucked into the corners, ghosts lurking in the shadows, along with Lou’s updates. “I like what you’ve done with the place, though.”

Lou moved through the space briskly, almost as to sweep away the sense of still nostalgia lingering like leaves off the front porch. He yanked the blinds open in quick succession, the light slashing through the dimness now illuminating the living room in its unvarnished truth. It was just as it had been before his great uncle passed away. A fisherman, two-time war veteran, carpenter, and antiques enthusiast did in fact once inhabit the place—heavy, hand-carved wooden furniture, neatly arranged rods and old tackle boxes on the exposed red brick, framed sepia-toned photographs of time spent on navel ships and medals lined above and below them, shelves of knick knacks: old glass bottles to weathered artifacts alike.

Though a sharper observance revealed the evidence in relinquishment of the property to his nephew. The intricately detailed furniture still stood strong and impressive, but there was a faint layer of neglect only time away from its maker could create. The chairs that once cradled old fishermen drinking and laughing now felt like empty sentinels, waiting for someone to sit down, maybe polish the wood or fix its blemishes—but no one did.
One frame sat against the wall beneath the others with its glass shattered into jagged pieces that glistened in the light, some leftover shards left gathered in a corner. The deeply grained oak table where his uncle had sat reading his paper was now cluttered with unopened mail, a couple empty bottles of liquor, half-finished books and an ashtray due for cleaning.

“Oh, yeah.” Lou nodded, already grabbing the liquor bottles to toss in the recycling bin beside the kitchen wall, “I didn’t expect company. Kinda forgot I left it a little messy.”

The space didn’t look particularly messy to Ramona, just lived in. Nicer, she decided upon getting a clearer view in the light streaming in through the blinds. The haunting feeling of intruding into a house left behind dissipated, shifting into something sadder—it was well-loved, but it must have been lonely at times. As irritating as he could be, at least Mona had Cooper to keep her company—she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live out here by herself, with only the wind in the trees and a staticky television to talk to.

She couldn’t blame Lou for wanting to get away, either.

“I don’t mind it,” the brunette assured. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Here.” He took the paper bag from her, tossing their trash into the bin, then gestured toward the narrow stairs in the center of the house, “My room’s a lot better lookin’—I’ll join ya in a sec.” Lou disappeared down the small hallway past the living room and into the bathroom.

The specks of dust hanging in the still air, shimmering like glitter in the sunbeams, wavered as Lou passed through them on his way down the hall. Ramona’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure for a moment before shifting to the slender path of steps leading to the second story. Those stairs had always made her nervous—steep and oddly-spaced, one slip-up would send her tumbling, which was seemingly a favorite intrusive thought whenever she made the careful journey up to Lou’s bedroom, and her mind was quick to replay the potential scenario now as she ascended. Instinctively, her hand shot out to grip the railing the rest of the way up.

As promised, Lou’s bedroom was kept in a neater condition than the rest of the home, but his desk was the apparent scapegoat for any unruliness. They said that a lot could be gathered about someone by the state of their room, and it made sense to know that Lou’s desk was the hub for most activity in there—books were stacked on the table’s far edge, against the wall, as if he wasn’t fully ready to part with them yet despite the bookcase being such a short walk away; papers were scattered there too, all bearing Lou’s familiar scrawl, and Mona could easily picture him sat there, book in one hand, forgotten for the time being, and pencil in the other as he jotted down an unexpected idea. Inspiration struck whenever it saw fit—it didn’t wait for the end of the chapter before tugging one’s attention elsewhere.

Amongst the mess of scribbles was a smaller sheet, closer in size to a card, but even it held Lou’s writing on the back. He must’ve ran out of copy paper, Ramona thought, but upon peering closer, she took in the words: Miss you. Might wanna add this one to the bucket list. Was the message intended for her, or was that a selfish guess to make? Her fingers extended to flip the postcard over, as if she’d find the answer to her silent question on the other side, but they paused midair at the sight of something shining on the wooden surface beside it, sun glinting off of a blinding mix of glass and silver.

The brunette’s hand moved instead to shield the object from the rays long enough to decipher what it was: a metal-rimmed locket in the shape of a heart with small, white flowers pressed snugly between the crystalline panels. Mona squinted, head lowering for a closer view—she’d seen blossoms like that somewhere before, but she couldn’t quite pick the name of them from the bramble of plant trivia muddling her brain.

Lou rinsed off quickly, the cold water hitting his skin a sharp reminder the water heater was still out of commission. He should've taken care of it, but the days leading up to summer session slipped out from under him. It wasn't so bad in the summer, but come late September, he'd be cursing himself for waiting. If it wasn't absolutely debilitating, and only really affecting himself, it was hard to get himself to fix anything. The chill of the water clung to him as he shook the towel over his head and contemplated his bad habit. Lou paused at the sink, staring into the mirror for a lingering moment.

Wonder what she's doin'. Lou angled his chin to the side as his thumb rubbed the tiny bit of rubble already starting to form from his last shave. Shouldn't keep her waitin'.

With the towel around his waist, he shuffled to the laundry room and rifled through it to search for something halfway presentable. His fingers brushed over shirts and pants too wrinkled from still sitting in the dryer until finally deciding on a set that wasn't too bad. After he dressed, he tucked a cigarette behind his ear and head up the stairs.

"Hey, stranger." The words fell out a little more sheepish than he meant, his smirk fading into something half apologetic as he saw Mona sitting across from his cluttered desk. He’d done a half-decent job of cleaning his room—nothing outstanding—but that wasn’t what was throwing him off. It was the sight of her figure sitting there, perched in the same old oak chair, the same way Mona had been years ago, like time had bent back on itself.

It was a shame how spotty his memory was, but it was a feeling he had—deja vu, but with a sharper edge. Prom night, junior year, hit him in a flash of clarity. Mona, with her long hair, sitting in the same chair, flipping through his English notebook, making jives over his terrible drawings and the countless "Mona Was Here"'s scrawled across margins. He could almost hear her voice, and even his own, laughing, tears in their eyes.

A mess of clothes sat on the planks beneath them—the crumpled mess of an old prairie dress and awkward suit and pants set they'd bought in some fit of teenage absurdity. Scissors on the ground and half of a shoulder pad cut out from under the dress, another laughing point of theirs. The plan to wear them for no reason at all, except to swing by the old train yard to meet up with Ezzy, and others he couldn't quite place now—arms heavy with graffiti cans and cheap wine. But the funny thing was, they'd never ended up putting those clothes on at all. Or did they? The memory had gone soft, blurred at the edges, like a photo that had been left out in the sun too long. His eyes lowered, the gleam from a silver chain averting his stumble down memory lane.

At the sound of Lou’s entrance, Ramona swiveled to face the doorway, hand dropping to rest in her lap. “Hi,” she greeted in return, fingers raising just as quickly as they’d fallen to rake a bit of wayward hair behind her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.” Her mouth pulled into a timid smile to match the tone in which her friend had spoken. Perhaps he sensed it, too, that feeling of wistfulness creeping in from every corner of the house like fog rolling in on a rainy morning. Eventually, it would be dispelled when the present’s reality beckoned them back to their responsibilities, as low-hanging clouds were scattered by traffic as the world woke up—any abrupt movements could’ve broken the serenity, but there was no need to disturb it yet. Mona wanted to sit in it a moment longer, allow herself to sink into its soft embrace.

“Oh. You’ve found it.” He cracked open the window behind him and pulled the second chair around to sit on, “Funny thing is, I didn’t even get the postcard from BC.”,—freeing the cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it, “‘Got it in Washington. Some thrift store. But I still wanted y’ to see it. An’ that was the next best thing—Cathedral Park, Local’s call it ‘Yoho’.”

"The real thing though—" Lou exhaled, the smoke curling out from between his fingers and drifting lazily into the air. His ash landed behind him in the thick, amber-brown glass blown ashtray perched on the windowsill. "The, uh, tips of this mountain peak—god, they were like a greyish-purple, glowin’ almost—It was just beautiful, yeah."

He paused, a flicker of something in his eyes as he looked away. He didn’t want to keep going on about a mountain she wasn't able to see the way he had, and especially since the postcard was only a mere painting. A print of a painting at that.

Ramona’s attention drifted to the postcard once more, finally satiating her curiosity as she shifted it in place so that the side boasting the picture was in view. The mountain-scape was faded, hazy, like she was seeing it through the lens of a dream. She traced the stream snaking down the rock’s face with her pinky, listening as Lou recounted the scene for her. She couldn’t help but grin wider; Mona had always liked the way he described things—straight to the point but colorful enough to grab one’s interest. “It sounds nice. If you ever go back, maybe I can tag along. Can’t let you have all the fun.” Her voice held a teasing quality, but when the brunette glanced up to gauge Lou’s reaction, she found him gazing elsewhere, and her lighthearted expression slipped. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was rude to poke her nose where it didn’t belong, and she might eventually grasp that concept one day.

He stood up, the cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers, and reached for the silver locket on the table top. “The necklace,” he started, his thumb tracing its edges absentmindedly, lost in the coolness of the metal and the memory retained from the day that woman had given it to him to pass on. “—was somethin’ a friend gave me.”

“She said what the flowers were, hell, I can’t really remember now. Said it was a good luck charm though.” He set it back down on the desk with another drag of cigarette, then turned back to the window to sit and blow his smoke outwards. His eyes met Mona’s then, and there was something raw in them, a flicker of hurt—like a bruise masked beneath the surface of his smile. "I was gonna send it in a box, y'know, maybe brighten your day b'fore you decided you really did hate me and were never gonna write me back."

Except there was no way you could’ve. My dumbass. The reiteration of his once compulsive thought process caused a small chuckle out of Lou, “Got cold feet an’ never sent it! For good reason it turns out..”

The push and pull of proximity as Lou explained the jewelry’s history, entering her space only to draw away again, had Ramona wishing that he would’ve stayed near, which she chalked up to be nothing more than a side effect of Lisa’s disappearance—the temporary nature of everything being such a prevalent topic in her mind was playing tricks on the brunette, doing its best to turn her into a sap. It wouldn’t have been the first instance.

“It’s pretty,” Mona managed, line of sight tearing away from Lou at last to spare a glance at the necklace. The sentimentality behind the gift, however, was arguably more appealing. “I’m glad you didn’t—God knows I could use a little luck.” She laughed, shaking her head at her own expense. Ramona didn’t necessarily believe in the concept of good or bad fortune—at the end of the day, all that one could do was scrape by with whatever hand they were dealt in life, and no amount of four leaf clovers could change that. The brunette had resided on the unfavorable side of things for far too long and with no sign of easing up anytime soon, despite all her hard work, but the gesture on Lou’s part was sweet, and Mona was grateful for it regardless of her personal reservations.

“For the record,” Ramona continued, “I could never hate you.” She slid forward in her seat, leg stretching out to affectionately nudge Lou’s knee with her foot. The very concept seemed physically impossible to her. Even when she’d been thoroughly convinced that Lou’s leaving had been his way of cutting ties without the hassle of a hard discussion, Mona had found him even in the most mundane of places: catching the scent of cigarette smoke as she passed Willamina and glancing over her shoulder in the hopes of seeing his shaggy, blond hair amid the pedestrians peeking through the store’s front window; rereading old books because the comfort of his input in the margins was too valuable to part with, even in favor of crisp, new pages to flip through; picking all the cherry-flavored gummy bears from the bag to toss in the trash because, without Lou, there was no one in the house willing to eat them.

Ramona didn’t hate him, but the alternative, she was realizing, may have been worse.

‘I could never hate you.’

The words hung between them like a half-remembered dream, a soft refrain from a time where everything was heavy and uncertain. Lou had said it jokingly, the way people do when they want to believe something could never be true. The way he once had to tell himself to cushion the blow. The words from his own mouth paled in comparison to her acknowledgement of them, even if she proved his thoughts to be so wrongly placed. It was the notion, the potential, that Mona could even harbor the capacity to truly hate him.

Why did that hurt him?

He felt himself tense when she nudged him, his teeth briefly set in a grit, soft and deliberate. The sort of gesture that shouldn’t matter yet the feeling lingered on his skin, a quiet invitation of something just barely out of reach. Lou fought the urge to return to close the gap between them that carried the facade of casualty. His gaze locked on her, steady and intent, watching the way she shifted, like a movie on a television channel he wasn’t sure would get a rerun ever again.

Well past noon, the sun was at the beginning of it’s gradual descent. The longer hours of Oregon’s July kept the rich glow high and strong until four—fizzling out about nine, when it fully disappeared behind the trees and mountains. Now it was about thirty past two and the sun cast a softer, filtered light through the glass panes. The trees above the skylight created patterns—dappled light moving slowly across the floor, the faintest of shadows. The organic movements caused it to shift subtly, like a slow riverstream caught in a loop above them. When Lou was a kid, reading in the short break before a civil twilight, he'd pause just to watch the shapes move.

Lou paused and watched the shapes fold and fall over Mona like silk, feeling a dull ache. Something bittersweet and confusing, like heartbreak or a brush with death. I missed you. He couldn’t shake this strange feeling, couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. Or why the moment colided between the lines of complicated and completing. I miss you still.

"Who do you find yourself thinking of, in some undefined brevity, before you fall asleep, or when the world goes still—cold—and somehow the voices around you never sound even half as sensible?"

“Baby’s breath. For good luck, happiness and protection.”

Meadow’s words echoed in his mind. Baby’s Breath. That’s what it was.

The brunette inhaled, straightening in the desk chair and swiping the locket from the table’s surface to fiddle with the clasp. “Thank you,” she said. “Really.” A pause. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

Lou smiled to himself, putting the cigarette out into the ashtray, crushing it slightly until the little red glow fizzled out—the last wisps of smoke fluttered up the open window. “I know.”

“Well, you gonna try it on?” He challenged with an eyebrow raised, “I'm not convinced y’ really like it yet. Here—” Lou extended his hand out for her. It was the gentlemanly thing to do after all, he supposed. The kind of thing that might've felt silly under another circumstance, but now felt like the only thing left to do. Besides, if all the sentimentality was going to be out in the open like this, he might as well see it in use—hanging around her neck, where he imagined it might be someday if he ever got the chance.

Ramona’s eyes widened, brows shooting upward, but she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her at Lou’s teasing insinuation. “Of course I do!” she defended, arm reaching forward to meet his, necklace dangling between her fingers for him to take. As capable as she was of adorning it herself, his offer was too kind to refuse. It was the sort of gesture she typically judged girls for in romance movies—Wow… Helpless much?—but she’d allow it. Just this once. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone present to bear witness of her hypocrisy that would use it against her.

Rising from the squeaky desk chair, Mona crossed the space between them and spun so that she faced away from Lou. This is ridiculous, she thought, but even the chastising voice in her head lacked any real bite.

Lou took the necklace by its chain, letting it dangle for a moment to straighten out. He leaned in, reaching over Mona with a careful precision, his fingers brushing lightly against the curve of her collarbone then once more at the base of her neck. Twice. And for a moment he had to will away the ridiculous thought of her somehow sensing the beating pulse in the tips of his fingers. He steadied his hands over the clasp, finally interlocking the two pieces.

He stifled a laugh, thinking back to all the times they'd joked rather obnoxiously at every romcom cliché growing up—the forced 'aww's with their mouths agape. Mona always gave him that look, pretending to believe in the magic of it all. And Lou felt he could almost sense what she was thinking even with her back turned. The thought only amused him more.

For someone with the amount of perceptiveness that Ramona possessed, she was entirely too willing to ignore the small details revealing themselves to her in rapid succession: her stomach turning somersaults as Lou bent toward her, draping the silver chain around her neck—Juliette really is a bad cook; goosebumps tickling along her skin as his hands rested there momentarily to latch both ends of the necklace together—old houses have drafts. Instead, Mona settled her attention on the wooden slats making up the wall across from her, counting knots. She’d gotten to five by the time she felt the locket’s weight resting against her chest without the aid of Lou’s fingers to hold it there.

Glancing down, the brunette admired the piece of jewelry for a second. It truly was pretty—something she would’ve picked out on her own, only to inevitably remind herself that she didn’t need it and put it back.

Lou stepped back, smirking with a sly satisfaction, “Alright, let’s see it.”

With a grin, Ramona pivoted, sarcastic remark bubbling on the tip of her tongue to distract from the wings battering against her ribcage, but when she found Lou still standing so close, her lips fell shut, lest the butterflies come fluttering out. Her playful expression flickered, morphing into something uncharacteristically sheepish as her gaze darted from one blue eye to the other. The brunette’s fingertips twisted into the hems of her shorts, tugging nervously at the rough fabric in a weak attempt at grounding herself to the spot—the shadows dancing overhead seemed to sharpen Lou’s features, and Mona feared what would happen once she let go. “Well?” That one, simple word was all that she could muster, yet it contained a multitude of meanings, falling somewhere between How does it look? and What are we doing?

Even though she turned to face him at his own request, it was too close. His gaze fell into her eyes, and Lou quickly glanced down at the necklace, an anchor to keep himself from falling any deeper down the well she’d made out with just one look. There it was—the necklace that traveled hundreds of miles in his shirt pocket with ample uncertainty only to mesmerize him months later. The familiar space surrounding them now dumbfounded him, like he'd forgotten just how to occupy it. Why did he think of her? Caressing the locket in his fingers, dangling it from his rearview mirror while he crossed state line after state line.

The silver pendant glowed in contrast to her skin—and it was beautiful around her neck, but only the light olive tones cradling it could hold his attention. The necklace itself seemed little more than a distraction, a small excuse to let his eyes linger on the shadow of her neckline just to trail up her jaw. Again, their eyes locked. Instead of a water well, they pulled him in like gravity. What are we doing?

Was it stranger than it felt in his head? That, in a god honest truth, he felt the pull to touch her. That maybe the slight brush against her skin—one, two—wasn’t nearly enough now. Suddenly the situation wasn’t all that funny anymore. If he had had more time to think it through, maybe he’d have made a bad decision. Lou stood by the distrust of his emotions, half-heartedly. Cursedly. His chest felt hollow, the ache different from the one before, like she might have taken something of his when he wasn’t looking. The words he looked for felt miles way, like they didn’t fully exist yet. And he didn’t know how to reach for them, make them real. Among the confusion, Lou figured one thing. He hadn’t felt this happy in awhile.

So he smiled, breaking their gaze in exchange for a short laugh. “Sorry.” He said coyly and shook his head before fully turning away from her, “Just, uh, looks even better than I thought it would—silver, that looks good on you.”

The sudden movement broke whatever spell they seemed to have fallen under; for a moment the air had shifted, stifling and electric—like in the winter months, when enough dragging of one’s feet against the carpet could create sparks at the smallest touch—but as Lou turned away, it mellowed out again. Ramona exhaled, but there was a tinge of disappointment hanging off of her breath despite Lou’s complimentary words. Stop expecting things you aren’t gonna get, she reminded herself, forcing the corners of her mouth upward as her fingers lifted to rub against the cool metal now resting just below her neck—a new habit, undoubtedly. “Thanks,” Mona started, “I never really thought about it before.”

Lou walked up to his bookcase, half-pulling out a couple books before he found the one he was looking for. He opened it up, fished out a small bronze key and pushed the book back into its respective spot. “Figured since Nic’s here, I should probably bring him a welcoming gift.”

Key in hand, he knelt down below the bed and turned open a small wooden box—stuffing a small pouch in his back pocket.

“Right.” Ramona’s gaze dipped to the watch face staring tauntingly at her from its position on her wrist, arms stretched to show that it was just after 2:30. “We should head back, anyway. The farm won’t prep itself.”
code by valen t.
 
TRIP INTO TOWN

SHOPPING MONTAGE
A
s a result of unashamedly choosing to sit out of orientation, Nicolas Burns didn’t know what was on his agenda for the day nor did he have a clue as to where to go next, but he was certain of one thing: they’re everywhere, he cringed, unable to tune out the chatter of at least a hundred kids taking advantage of eagerly-awaited free time. Instinctually patting the pocket of his dark denim jeans, Nic fished out his handy, pink lighter—grateful that he didn’t leave it behind in his bags—before plucking the cigarette that rested behind his ear and walking in the most familiar direction.

He had been caught in a sea of kids, some in groups and some alone, but in that moment, he was grateful to be at least four times their height. Naturally, they moved out of his way, not without a second glance of mixed emotions, at just the sight of him and how he contrasted in the crowd. But, he’d rather deal with a couple of stares than getting stuck shoulder to shoulder with them in an attempt to find a space to smoke. If I make a break for it now, no one would notice, he jokingly considered as the edge of the trail came into view. And only after the clearing was mostly free of prying eyes did he flick his thumb against the side of his lighter—igniting a flame to bring to the tip of his cig.

Dontcha even think about it. Hugo Burns narrows his eyes, swiping his thumb absently over the Toy Story bandaid on his forearm. Tossing the discoloured rag he’d been using to wipe the grease from his hands into his makeshift fire-engine red toolbox, Hugo stomps down the field and towards where his only son stood, noting Hallow’s Trail in the near distance.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” he announces, voice gruff and demanding once he’s within earshot. He holds his hand out, flicking his fingers impatiently for Nicolas to hand over the cigarette. “Campers can see you bein’ a bad influence, hand that shit over.”

Fuckin’ great…, Nic sighs, the familiar grating voice of Hugo Burns slashing through the silence he was just getting acquainted with. He didn’t know what was worse—not getting a singular drag of his cigarette in before commanding stomps sounded from behind or having to deal with watching kids and pretending like he was interested in doing so—, but when he turned around, the answer was clear. He was worse.

“Sure you don’t want a hit? Sounds like you need it more than I do,” he decidedly responds, pocketing his lighter and leaving the slow-burning cigarette to hang from his lips in a lazy manner while he does so. Only after acknowledging the calloused hand that belonged to his father did he cast an exasperated glance upward. Seriously…? Nic already knew the answer to that though, having gotten familiar with that tone of voice the minute Hugo decided that his antics went from cute to insufferable. Slowly—and not without obvious reluctance—did he pluck the cig from his lips and hand it to him, burning side facing away. Least that’s not my only one.

Hugo pinches the cigarette between his thumb and index, immediately bringing it to his lips and taking a long and purposeful inhale. Brows raised high, his eyes filled with mirth as he takes in the sight of his son—still scrawny. It was clear as day where his genetics decided to give up, Nicolas choosing to be lazy as a tadpole and carrying that energy throughout the rest of his life.

“Don’t get all haughty. Kids don’t expect much from me.” Hugo says, the cigarette hanging from the side of his pursed mouth. “What in Gods’ name are you wearing? It’s a camp. All this jewellery out in the woods—” his voice dies in his throat, catching sight of the very specific and familiar necklace hanging from Nicolas’ neck.

Swallowing an uncomfortable lump in his throat, Hugo raises his hand with a slight tremble to point at the opal design. “Where’d you get that?”

A low “Hm?” emitted from Nic’s lips in a temporarily confused fashion as his gaze followed where Hugo’s finger landed, reminding him of the necklace he had found in his reprieve back at Orca. He had almost forgotten all about it—the weight of the dainty jewelry close to nothing around his neck—until he pointed it out again. But the minute it was brought to his attention, a genuine smile grew.

“Oh, this ol’ thing? Lucked out back at my cabin after that supervisor guy showed us where we’re sleeping,” pinching the opal stone between his pointer finger and thumb, he lifts it up to shine in the light for better viewing. “Dusty as hell, and I’m not a gold kinda guy but—” he shrugs lazily before letting it drop back against his chest. “—I like free.”

Only after Nicolas turns his attention back up to Hugo does he notice the uncomfortable reaction—strange and out of character for someone as assured as his father was—, and it wipes the wide smile off of his face in exchange for a neutral expression. “Why are you looking at me like that…?” And if you’re going to take it, can I at least have my cigarette back?

No. Hugo retracts his pointed accusation and pinches the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor and stamping out the embers. He teeters between a choice, to rip it from his son’s neck and throw it into the lake—preventing anyone from placing blame where it ain’t—or falling into denial. It was an opal mining community, the necklace might belong to a family with an unimportant name.

“There a name on that thing?” He gruffly questions, averting his eyes to feign disinterest. Too late for that.

Nicolas watches Hugo hurriedly snuff out the cigarette with the bottom of his shoe—disappointment flaring in him as the last of its embers mix into the gravel before ever getting more than one drag from it. Next time, he swears confidently to himself before finally shaking his head. “Nope!” he answers with an emphasized ‘P’, unwilling to give the chain back just a few hours after finding it.

“Just mine. Looks better on me than on some random windowsill anyway,” idly kicking at a stray rock with the tip of his boot, Nic steers his attention away from Hugo for a short moment—distractedly looking around camp before letting his gaze fall back to the other. “So, when do I get to shoot some arrows? Or do I just stand here and look pretty all day until some kid falls on his ass?”

Unconvinced but unwilling to beat a dead horse, Hugo drops it and barks a laugh that lacks any humour. “You? Shootin’ arrows? I ain’t missin’ that. I’ll be accomp-an-yin’ you lot on the Sleepaway.” He slaps his knee, a genuine chuckle tearing from his throat at the mere image of his son missing the target over, and over, and over. “Not missin’ a second of that shitshow.”

Laugh it up, old man. Won’t be funny when you gotta put another Toy Story bandaid somewhere else. With narrowed eyes and an amused smile playing on his face, Nicolas shakes his head at his father’s theatrics, folding his arms across his chest in a more relaxed stupor as Hugo’s rough yet booming laughter dies down.

Hugo jerks his head towards the trail leading back into the spitball town of Easthallow. “You goin’ into town for a costume? Don’t wear anything fucken embarrassing. Or stupid. The kids are ruthless here.”

‘Kids’ meaning the young adults Jonathan Evergreen insisted on employing, mostly the ones that aged out as campers—some were well-behaved, those ones Hugo would remember for the remainder of his miserable lifetime—but the penchant for gossip and rumours persisted. Nicolas asked too many questions, ever curious, and Hugo would be caught dead before that curiosity landed him in a negative spotlight.

“Ruthless?” Nic parrots, letting his eyebrows furrow while his head drops in a subtle tilt. “What- They gonna run me out of camp if I decide to wear assless chaps?” It’s not like I haven’t already made an impression. He recalls the sidelong glances campers have been giving him all day—as well as Alton’s distinct, sullen mean mug when he interrupted his conversation with Jonathan Evergreen. There was no doubt in his mind that he stuck out, but he never cared to fit in either. That had been made obvious in the way he carried himself. “Don’t even know what I’m gonna wear now that I think about it…” his voice trails off as Hugo speaks again.

“I don’t want to be hearin’ nothin’ about you ‘round here. Just keep your head down.”

“Whatever you say…” he turns his head to acknowledge the advancing crunch of gravel and leaves under an unknown weight. “But, I think you worry too much, Pops. It’s a summer camp.” Nic emphasizes the words to reiterate his doubt. Hugo had worked there longer than Nicolas had ever been alive, he knew that much, but he also dealt with his fair share of assholes between high school and his alternative program—built thicker skin capable of withstanding petty gossip. How bad could they actually be?
With a parting wave to Joey, Juliette ran her fingers through her hair, threading them carefully before brushing aside the loose strands. The weight of loneliness settled over her as she stood there, the comforting words from earlier already slipping through the cracks of her memory. I’m sure everything will be fine, she told herself, though she wasn’t so sure this time. I’m just freaking out over nothing. Right?

Spinning on her heel to head back down the path she’d taken, Juliette paused as a sharp sound came from her left. Her eyes darted towards the fishing shed, where the door swung open and shut with the gusty afternoon breeze. The continuous slamming pulled a frown from her; that door was supposed to be locked.

With a sigh, she veered off to inspect it, her steps quick. The sliding lock, she noted, was still intact—but something else caught her attention. Right in the center of the door an old photo was taped, weathered but still intact.

Curious, Juliette hummed quietly as she reached out, running the pad of her fingers across the image. It was a photo of Leon and Connie, frozen in time on matching kayaks, surrounded by campers. They were laughing, seemingly deep in conversation. Near the edge of the frame, Paige was in the water, her face turned away from the camera.

Cute. Her nail caught the corner of the photo where Connie sat, ripping it cleanly in half. Without sparing it another glance, she let the piece flutter to the ground. But ew.

After slamming the shed door shut and securing the lock, Juliette turned away, her steps brisk as she made her way back to camp. Her head was still swirling with the overwhelming news—someone was missing again. The weight of what-ifs and maybes hung heavy in her thoughts, distracting her until the familiar sight of the dining hall came into view.

The tension in her shoulders eased at the sight. It was technically free time, but starting dinner prep a little early wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it’d help her keep her at ease too. With that thought in mind, she approached the dining hall, but just as her foot hovered mid-step, she froze. A figure caught her eye, standing by the trail off to the side. Is that Hugo?

Noticing the groundskeeper talking to someone, a smile tugged at her lips. It had been far too long since she’d had a proper conversation with him, and saying hello wouldn’t hurt anyone. Without thinking, she ditched the dining hall to head towards the trail, her walk turning into a full sprint the closer she got.

“Hugo!” she shouted, throwing herself into his arms with a burst of laughter. The sound spilled freely from her, bright and unrestrained. It’s been too long, where was he hiding? Looking up with faux indignation, she asked, “where were you on day one? I thought Mr. Evergreen finally convinced you to retire!”

Remembering he wasn’t alone, Juliette turned her gaze to the taller figure standing before her. Her smile softened into something more reserved, smaller than the one before. After a brief moment of sizing up the stranger, her attention flicked back to Hugo, a snort escaping her. “Showing someone around? That’s so unlike you. What’s the occasion?”

“It may be just a ‘summer camp’ to you, but—” Hugo is effectively cut off by a warm and sweet voice he was well accustomed to—Juliette dives him and he barely catches her small frame in time, allowing her body to hang from his sturdy neck. He’s about to reluctantly reveal how glad he was to see her back when his forehead scrunches into several lines at the head of blonde hair under his chin.

“What is this?” He pinches the strands, setting her down on the ground to get a proper look. It was no secret her attachment to Renee Evergreen, his own begrudging feelings about the relationship was kept to himself—he wouldn’t interfere in others business as a strong believer in learning from mistakes—but he frowns at the depths of the dynamic if she’d go so far as to rid herself of what made her stand out from the rest. “Hmpf. Ginger was nice.”

Turning the attention towards Nicolas, Hugo gruffly pats her blonde head of hair and points at his son. “This is my son. Nicolas. Watch out for him, would ya?” He cuts Nicolas a sharp look that says, no funny business with this one.

Juliette grumbled out a half-hearted response, “It was looking rustier than usual,” to his comment about her sudden hair change. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that he didn’t take kindly to the sight of blonde replacing her signature orange.

“Orange is a horrible color anyway,” she added sharply, though her tone remained honey-sweet, clearly not meant to sound like a jab—despite the faint prickling defensiveness over her decision to color her own damn hair. It was time for a change, that’s all.

At the mention of him having a son, however, Juliette’s posture shifted instantly. Her eyes lit with intrigue as they darted back to Nicolas. “Oh, a secret son?” she mused, her curiosity unmistakable. Wonder what that’s all about. She brought her hand up to offer him a timid wave, smile softening just a fraction. Talk about polar opposites.

Nicolas couldn’t help the slight raise of his eyebrow as someone slipped past him and threw their arms around Hugo, but his default expression fell into something more unusual for someone as nonchalant as he was—a feeling beginning to form in his gut that he couldn’t (and didn’t) ever want to grow accustomed to.

What are you doing…?, he questions internally, watching the friendly gesture play out, and especially, zeroing in on Hugo’s relaxed body language with her. It wasn’t something Nic was used to seeing. He could barely recall what it felt like to be as comfortable in Hugo’s arms as she looked, but he wouldn’t have time to decipher what it meant before they both turned to look at him again. But that—Nic’s gaze drifted down to the sharp point of Hugo’s finger directed at him now—I’m used to that one.

Fighting back his own snort, Nic momentarily raises both hands in faux surrender at Hugo’s look, one he knew far too well, before joining into the conversation. “Call me ‘Nic.” he responds, and finds himself casting a smooth once-over look at the strikingly-blonde head of hair their new company possessed. “‘nd don’t pay the old guy any mind, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Blondes have more fun, right?” slipping right back into his nonchalant demeanor came easy, a cool smile that matched her own pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Nic, nice to meet you.” Juliette didn’t extend a hand, instead opting to stand idly beside Hugo, one hand loosely gripping her elbow. She swayed gently on her heels, a subtle habit betraying a hint of nervousness. It’s weird talking to others, without Renee looming nearby.

A faint laugh escaped her lips at his comment though, regarding blondes. “Name’s Juliette. And you’re right—they do have more fun. I’m sure Hugo will warm up to the sight eventually,” she added, a playful glint in her eyes. Joey’s going to love his energy.

Doubt it, Nic couldn’t help but interrupt internally. Buzzkill Burns had a penchant for never holding back his truths. Whether it was vocal or his facial expressions betraying him, Hugo made his opinions known (well, at least towards him). Yet, Nic schooled his facial expression to remain unphased while Juliette continued.

With a snap of her fingers, Juliette seized the opportunity presenting itself. “We’re planning on having a—” she began, her gaze briefly darting to Hugo before flicking back to Nic. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, biting the inside of her cheek. Sorry, Hugo.

Hugo cuts Juliette an unimpressed look, his brow raised expectantly.

“—just a little get-together with the counselors tonight. There are a lot of new people this session,” she finished smoothly, her tone casual but inviting. “We’re heading into Easthallow to pick up a few things. You…want to tag along?”

Before Nic could respond or even before she had the chance to elaborate more on the invitation, a voice cut through the moment. Confusion flickered across her face as she pivoted, her gaze searching for the source.

Oh, it’s… just Riley. Her expression shifted, a small smile forced into place as she raised her hand in a much more enthusiastic wave towards the survivalist. Turning back to Nic, she offered a shrug, quickly adding, “your dad is kind of popular around here.”

Just as Juliette had turned her attention away at the chime of a new and unfamiliar voice, Nic’s gaze followed in the same direction, briefly landing on a girl approaching with mirrored excitement to see his father. ‘Your dad is kind of popular around here’, Juliette had stated, causing him to throw a glance over at Hugo now. “Yeah, I see that now…,” was all he could muster before opting to change the subject in favor of something that didn’t feel like discovering a bruise he didn’t know existed.

Hugo’s face inadvertently brightens at the sight of Riley Kelson, his arm rising high above his head in a hearty wave towards the girl. From where he stood, there were a number of counsellor’s that had slipped through the cracks of his carefully guarded wall, damn near insistent on breaking down the constructed bricks and forcing him to become familiar with them.

Juliette was by happenstance, the girl that was left to herself to each lunch alone—a familiar scene for him, used to taking his lunches outside in the fresh air and actively avoiding the pointing and long stares of younger campers. The first complaint Crisis-Aid ever wrote down back in 1987 was about him, how the mark on his face was offensive to look at, and rather than informing Jonathan, Hugo felt it best to make himself scarce. Let the little shit’s find something else to complain about.

Riley was around, a survivalist with no choice but to deal with the groundskeeper, and he’d never admit—but he saw Nicolas in her at times, their same dark aesthetic and penchant for brutal honesty. Hugo supposed he used Riley as a replacement for the child he wished he’d had, admiring how she pushed through the adversity in her life and intended to make something with it.

“Riley!” He calls out, his voice gruff and barely carrying across the wind. He waves her over, sweeping an arm out for the survivalist to take her turn for a welcoming hug.

“A ‘get-together’ though, huh? I’m in.” Nic answered in confidence, finding one last opportunity to fully escape the sounds of hundreds of kids screaming and…well, him. Maybe I can bum a cigarette and finally get some uninterrupted peace. “She coming too?” he throws a look back over to ‘Riley’, who was close enough to the growing group to perceive now. Pretty. And I like that sweater.

As Riley grew closer she broke out into a jog. Upon getting a better look at the trio she was able to make Juliette out, not surprised to see that the blonde had also taken the opportunity to seek Hugo out when given the chance but the guy was someone she didn’t recognize. Must be new. She gave a small wave to reciprocate the one Juliette sent to be polite but it was clear who her focus was on.

“Something like that, yeah,” Juliette hummed out quietly, her tone subdued as her gaze settled on the scene unfolding before her. She stood closer to Nicolas now, “didn’t wanna say too much with Hugo around.” Her arms began to curl around her own frame, a subconscious gesture of unease as her attention flicked momentarily to the dark edge of the forest.

The woods this year felt different—with both Evergreens missing and the unsettling news about Lisa now out in the open. Her eyes darted back to Riley, don’t you know how to work your way around the woods? That knowledge—her being a survivalist, a horror fanatic—made her skin crawl in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Hm.

“Guess so,” she finally said, the words punctuated by a sharp suck of her teeth. She shifted her weight, jutting out her hip, her stance taking on a defensive edge. Her arms moved from their protective hold to cross tightly over her chest, a subtle shield. “Hopefully, some interesting people show up,” she added, forcing her tone to lighten up just a fraction. “You’re beating everyone by a mile right now, though.”

Juliette’s new demeanor around Kelson didn’t strike Nic as particularly odd, but the tension between them was palpable enough for him to take notice. Not a fan then, huh? Opting to let friction roll off his shoulders, he instead chose to acknowledge her end statement—a warmer smile growing on his face followed by a subtle nod. “You’re not so bad yourself, Blondie,” he states in a quieter tone reserved for the two of them now that she stood closer. Before he could continue, the conversation between Riley and Hugo stole her attention away again, him choosing to do the same.

Due to the book she was holding Riley was only able to properly wrap one arm around Hugo’s neck while the other hung loosely over his shoulder. Regardless, she hoped the message of I’ve missed you was still thoroughly portrayed. It was no secret how close Riley had grown to the groundskeeper since she was a kid. She’d never said it out loud before due to fear of dying from embarrassment or worse rejection but Hugo was like the father Riley wished she had.

Pulling away Riley looked up at Hugo with a frown, “Where were you yesterday?” A part of her wanted to ask if he had known about Lisa this entire time but bit back her tongue. She didn’t want their first interaction to be about hard to answer questions, especially when they weren’t alone. “And since when do you show new counselors around?”

Juliette mirrored the frown, her brows knitting together in subtle concern as she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I asked before and just realized you dodged the question.” Her tone carried a hint of curiosity, “we usually see you around first thing on Day One.”

Hugo pats the girls’ back three times, following a brisk rub at her shoulders to signal the end of their short embrace. He shrugs his shoulders dismissively, his attention drawn towards the camp—the meat of it, where children were gathering for Sports on the field, and running to the Lake for supervised swimming.

“What’s with the third degree from you two, eh? Gettin’ this place up to standard. Was down a pair of hands.” His lips thin uncomfortably, reminded of Lisa’s painful absence. The girl remained his co-worker between sessions, always lending herself to the camp’s maintenance, her love for the gardens and chickens meant less work for him—and he’d come to enjoy her company, chasing away the loneliness he typically preferred.

What a load of bullshit. Juliette smacked her lips, the sharp sound cutting through the air as she nodded along to his comment, although she had a few colorful theories of her own.

Her gaze caught his, lingering on the subtle shift in his posture—the slight hunch of his shoulders, the stiffness in his stance—and the thin, pressed line of his mouth. She couldn’t help but think, is that why it’s locked now?

Pulled out of his reverie by the mention of a new counsellor, he sighs and finally looks at his son for the first time since Juliette had arrived. “Special occasion. This is my son, Nicolas.”

Riley stood next to Hugo, arms hung limply by her side. The frown on Hugo’s face sent a wave of guilt down her spine, fingers gripping her book with more force than necessary, the corners digging into her palm. Now that he said it out loud it seemed almost like common sense and Riley found herself eternally glad that she had decided against bringing Lisa up.

She was even more thankful when the conversation pushed forward to safer ground. This is my son, Nicolas. Now that caught Riley’s attention. A curious glance was thrown upwards at Hugo before brown eyes turned to stare at Nicolas, an analyzing squint to her gaze. Internally she was studying him, finally putting a face to someone she’d heard about over the years but had never gotten the chance to meet. He looks like he could be in a rock band, she thought after taking in Nicolas’ appearance. Not necessarily a bad thing, his outfit was actually pretty cool, but it also…wasn’t what she had expected Hugo’s son to look like. Guess the apple can fall far from the tree.

They’re doing it again... Nic would have chosen to ignore the survivalists’ analytical stare if it wasn’t so pointedly directed at him, boring into his own eyes as if memorizing his entire being. Part of him couldn’t help but flick another judgemental gaze towards Hugo, subtley swearing at him for drawing in the critics in his direction, before his attention returned back on Riley.

“Nice to meet you.” Riley greeted, her tone casual but polite.

“Yeah, you too…,” he starts, decidedly taking the time to study her back since she was openly returning the unwarranted favor. But before the silence could become uncomfortable, Nic broke it with a witty flair. “If you’re not seeing any resemblance, it’s cause I got all my charming qualities from my mom. Lucky me, huh?” he quips, a lazy smirk tugging at the sides of his mouth before he strides to stand closer to Hugo and throw an arm around his sturdy shoulders. “Dad here invited me out.” Don’t look so glum, Pops. This was your idea.

I got all my charming qualities from my mom. “I won’t argue with that.” Hugo’s lips thin, his mind sinking into memories of Trish and their short-lived time together—significant, all things considered, but not long enough considering the spark she’d brought into his life, and how quickly his world dimmed as they parted ways, taking her light with her.

As Nic approached Riley side-stepped, watching in slight amusement as he threw his arm around Hugo’s shoulder. A movement around Nicolas’ neck caught Riley’s attention and she tilted her head, arms lifting to stuff her hand into her pant’s pocket. Where have I seen that necklace before? It looked eerily familiar, almost like it was screaming at her for her to place a face to it, but for some reason Riley couldn’t quite put her finger on where she’d seen the accessory before. Looking away Riley decided to shelf it away in her mind. She’d figure it out sooner or later.

The height difference between the two wasn’t all that daunting, though it became more apparent when Juliette spotted Nicolas waltzing up beside Hugo, casually slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Does that mean you’re working alongside him, or are you assigned a position?” she asked, her voice carrying a faint edge of curiosity as her gaze darted between the two Burns. Just as her focus settled, movement caught her eye. Not the company I expected so soon.

“Will be working together.” Hugo confirms with an almost smug smile, bordering on mocking as his head tilts to his only child. Nicolas wasn’t fit for any job around camp, the boy hadn’t taken on any trade jobs or gained much experience through the occasional odd job thrown his way, but he’d be able to keep an eye on him on the Survivalist field. “Lucky you, indeed.”

Honey-tinted strands rippled in the breeze like ribbons as Annalise jogged the rest of the way down the trail. Only when she spotted Juliette—even worse, Riley—in the group did her gait falter, but even then, it wasn’t enough to change her mind. The blonde sighed, forcing a smile as she neared. “You guys are headed into town, right?” she asked. “I totally forgot to pack a costume. Mind if I tag along?”.

“Oh my god—Annie, there you are!” The words spilled out through clenched teeth as she darted forward, closing the distance with purpose at the mention of costumes. Without hesitation, she linked arms with the other blonde, drawing her in close as if they were old friends. I hate this so much. Lowering her head slightly to avoid being caught whispering, she spoke under her breath, ensuring only Annie could hear.

The survivalist felt like chalkboard was being scratched in her ears as Annalise came into view and her high-pitched voice unfortunately ruined what little peace Riley had left. Closing her eyes shut, Riley mentally counted to ten. I totally forgot to pack a costume. Mind if I tag along? I’d rather go swimming in the lake after dark than go anywhere with you. Juliette was one thing, she Riley could tolerate but her and Annalise felt like a problem waiting to happen. When she reopened her eyes she decided that she wasn’t going to speak to her unless spoken to. Riley never liked her and she wasn’t going to pretend to start now.

Annalise’s brows knitted together at the chipper tone in Juliette’s voice, furrow deepening at the sudden proximity between them as the other girl lunged forward. What the hell does she want? To be this kind, false display or not, Juliette had to have underlying motives.

“Keeping it hush-hush right now, about the costumes, since—” she subtly tilted her head in Hugo’s direction, hoping she would catch on without further explanation. Juliette made a face though, once she caught sight of Riley once more. “Guess she’s tagging along now, unfortunately. Hope Joey forgot a costume.”

Annie’s pale eyes widened at her mistake. “Oh! Oops.” She laughed nervously, hand raising to shield her mouth. “Sorry.” Then, following Juliette’s gaze, the blonde’s expression dropped to one of mild annoyance—mild, only because Riley had yet to engage her in any sort of conversation. “Don’t see why,” Annalise mused. “She’s bound to have some kind of scary get-up in her closet already, if the clothes she usually wears are anything to go off of.” She gave the brunette’s current outfit a once-over. “All she needs is a mask, and she could be the Hamburglar.” Then, her head swiveled back toward Juliette with a smile. “Knowing Joey? She’ll be here.”

Juliette couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, quickly drawing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to the pair of them. “You’re so bad,” she chided with a quiet chuckle, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as her gaze flickered from Riley to Annie. Despite her standing closely beside the other blonde, she realized she didn’t entirely hate the moment—ironic, given everything.

Annalise shrugged, expression taking on an air of smugness. “I get that a lot,” she admitted, though she didn’t sound bothered by that fact in the slightest for someone who’d been told that same thing twice already since she’d arrived to camp. The way in which the other blonde had said it, punctuated by a laugh, had been more compliment than insult, after all—especially coming from Juliette of all people. Differences aside, they were kindred spirits, and perhaps that was why they so often butted heads—the pair saw the worst parts of themselves in each other, and it made them wary on most occasions, but now, it created common ground to diffuse the tension the day had created thus far.

“I walked her this morning—Joey, for swimming.” Her voice softened, offering a little reassuring squeeze, knowing Annalise was also close with her. “She seemed…in a much better mood, despite—you know.” Her gaze faltered, tearing away as the thought of Lisa missing simmered in the back of her mind, refusing to let her fully relax. Can’t believe it’s happening again.

Annie’s features softened at the kind gesture, lips tugging upward at the corners as her gaze searched Juliette’s. “Good,” she answered. “I’m glad.” Yet, just as quickly as the smile had appeared, it vanished again, brow furrowing as her attention fell to the ground. “I’ll have to find her later—apologize. I didn’t mean to walk away like that, I just—it freaked me out. Do you think…?”

The blonde’s voice tapered off—she didn’t need to voice her worries aloud for Juliette to know what she meant. They were all thinking the same thing, surely, but something about vocalizing it made it all too real. Annalise shook her head, willing the train of thought away. “Never mind,” she decided. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Her arms crossed, fingers resting on her wrist, more for comfort than anything, as her voice lowered. “Maybe Leon was right,” she mumbled, half to herself. “A distraction is what we need right now. What do you think?”

“Yeah,” Annie agreed. “It’s for the best. We can’t really change anything, so why focus on all the negativity? Leon may be a pretty face, but he has good ideas…sometimes.” She laughed lightly. The sound was almost timid, as if she was testing the waters—her words may have been lighthearted, but was it the time? She didn’t want to sound insensitive to anyone close enough to overhear.

“Yeah—a pretty face.” Juliette’s response trailed off, her gaze unfocused as a memory from last summer crept into her thoughts. It felt like a lifetime ago. I wonder if he remembers.

Insecurity was no stranger to her; in fact, she had a terrible habit of welcoming it like an old friend—a moth to a flame. With her arms still linked with Annie’s, her free hand absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Sometimes.” she agreed, her voice soft. “I know half of the counselors are probably pissed at him for bringing up truth or dare.” She offered a shrug, smile growing just a tad bit. “I’m just hoping for some fun, though.”

“When are you not?” Annalise teased, eyes rolling playfully for emphasis. Not that she had any room to judge—on her own list of priorities, fun was listed closely to the top. “They’ll get over it once they—” The blonde cut her sentence short, gaze darting toward Hugo. “You know.” Get so wasted they forget about their problems for the night. It may not have been the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was one of the most effective for their age group it seemed.

Her eyes wandered over the rest of the group as she stuck close to Annie, still holding out hope for more interesting faces to show up before they headed off. The chatter around her was background noise, nothing worth tuning into—until an eerily familiar voice sliced through her thoughts like a knife.

Her body stiffened instantly, every muscle locking into place. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.

As Juliette’s posture tensed beside her, Annalise stole a sideways glance before her attention drifted to follow the other blonde’s, blue eyes landing on Connie as she joined the outskirts of their group. Annie had no personal qualms with the girl, but she knew well where she stood with the brunette, and Juliette’s reaction was enough to gauge that they occupied that place together.

Suddenly, Annalise was eager to look in any direction that Connie didn’t currently reside.
After parting ways with Miriam, Leilani definitely needed that walk. She was mentally kicking herself over and over, questioning why she was the way she was.

Why can’t I just be normal? Why do I get so awkward and weird like that?

She needed to shake off that experience. Was it too early to head back to the arts & crafts room to blow off some steam? Maybe she could head over to the docks and skip rocks on the water? Or maybe wander into an unoccupied part of camp and just sit and listen a while; maybe even sketch?

Lani settled for her second idea, the docks. Sure the lake was about to be full of campers swimming soon, but if she found herself on any other dock that wasn’t the main dock, she’d still be able to enjoy the water and the quiet it brought.

Tote bag firmly grasped on her shoulder, Leilani began a somewhat peaceful walk towards the lake, purposefully taking a longer, more scenic route. Her heart was still racing from her interaction with Miriam, but why? Was she really that terrified of even remotely being identified as someone attracted to women?

That’s ridiculous, Leilani. You’re not gay, you’ve been with men before. You just need to snap out of it.

Somehow an illusion of her father’s voice thumped in her head, the one that drove her fear of being herself. Leilani desperately needed a break from those thoughts, the chest-tightening anxiety. She found her feet moving faster as the docks came into sight. The cure was obviously to get lost in her drawings.

Dammit, Rowan, where did you go??! Connie felt her luck run out after every dead end she came across—a scenic Easthallow becoming a rapid descent into a nightmare that followed them all into reality again. This isn’t safe… She couldn’t escape the feeling of impending doom as she strayed further away from the heart of camp. Even the familiar sight of the small dock—once considered a reverie—could not have disappointed her more than it did now.

The subtle creaking noises of her weight against its wooden planks drowned out the sound of her exhales, now slowing in spite of sustaining their same depth. Each of her waterlines fought to restrain the emotions that welled within them before failing, droplets free-falling down her warm cheeks as if her heart could sense the privacy surrounding her. Still, Connie tilted her head back to face the sky, hands firmly grasping her hips, as if the action would prevent more.

What the fuck is happening? It had only been the second day back and they were both proof that returning was a mistake.

With a few rough swipes against her face to ensure no evidence of crying, she turned away from the water and slowly started her way back down the trail, head tilted down to watch her feet carry her away. But when footsteps not of her own joined into her pattern, Connie’s head whipped back up and her speed quickened. “Rowan??” she calls out, dashing down until she came across the sound’s origin. No.

“Leilani…” with the hope doused from her tone almost as soon as it came, Connie exhaled sharply and looked every bit as dejected as she felt. But she did her best to fix her tone the next time she spoke. “I’m sorry, I was just—” Nearly tearing the camp apart looking for a friend? “—You haven’t seen Rowan around, have you? Rowan Bishop?” she adds at the end, hopeful that the next words out of the other girl’s mouth was a ‘Yes.’

Leilani jumped when she heard footsteps running towards her near the dock, spinning around at the voice. She stayed flinched for a moment before her body realized it was Connie, her friend. “Oh hey Connie, sorry you scared me there,” She steadied herself on the ground before looking at Connie, noticing something was off about her. Through the whirlwind of her own emotions, she couldn’t piece it together, but she tried to ignore her own problems and be present for Connie. “No, sorry, I haven’t seen Rowan since we broke for activities. I just finished at the lodge and came here,” Her voice was sweet and calming, a stark contrast to how she was with Miriam previously, “Is everything okay?”

Activities, she parrots Leilani internally, letting her eyelids fall closed for a moment as the realization began to set in before opening them to focus on her friend. “Right…” He had sports. They were still expected to do that as if Lisa’s disappearance was as easy to digest as a the occasional inconvenience. Still, Connie couldn’t help but feel the anxiety dissipate from her gut after knowing Rowan was safe, even if it was by a small amount.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Well, now,” Levine finally answers. “He ran out of orientation after Leon’s announcement and I was worried. He was close with Lisa…” We were close with her, she corrects herself, but not out loud. She didn’t want to venture that far into her own feelings in spite of knowing that Leilani was the safest place to do so. “But, he’s probably just getting ready for sports with the rest of the counselors.”

Leilani’s eyes softened, accompanied by her eyebrows crinkling in concern. Something that she hadn’t seen from a lot of her fellow counselors; fear of these disappearances. Pain in those who were gone. After suffering in silence about Renee for the past however long it had been, there was some sick part of her that felt comforted that she and Connie were in the same headspace.

Not that she can know that…

“I know you both were,” Lani reached out to place a, hopefully, comforting hand on her friend’s arm “I’m so sorry that Leon just blurted it out like that,” She did her best to console Connie, before her eyes jumped around their surroundings, remembering they were standing on the docks in the middle of a different activity “but, we don’t need to talk about that now. Rowan’s safe, he’s getting ready for sports. I can walk with you over there to lay eyes on him if you’d want?” The artist offered. She couldn’t imagine Connie’s feelings… Well technically she could, but she didn’t want Connie going through her feelings alone like she, herself had been. Her hand drifted slightly from Connie’s arm, ready to let go if she was being too much for her friend.

At the mention of Leon’s name, Connie finds herself immediately shaking her head in his defense. It’s not his fault. He’s just doing his job, she wants to correct. I’ll check on him and see if he’s okay once I get the chance. But instead, the touch of Leilani’s hand against her arm grounded her back to the current topic of conversation: Rowan. Part of her was thankful that Leilani took the initiative to do the same, finding herself putting a hand over the other’s to express that.

He wanted to be alone. She let’s out another defeated sigh before speaking. “No, that’s okay. I wasn’t supposed to follow him out anyway.” Endlessly searching the campgrounds, and forcing Kayden to follow, suddenly began to feel intrusive now: She was letting her paranoia lead her astray. “I need to head to Hallow’s Trail and meet up with some of the other counselors for town soon. Do you um—need a costume?” Part of her was still at war over whether or not she’d even be attending this year’s tradition at the Sunspot tonight, but at the very least, she could make herself useful for someone else. Leilani was a friend she thought highly of too.

Leilani’s face filled with understanding, emotions were high and confusing and had been for a year; the last thing she wanted to do was try and push any of her friends to do something they didn’t want to. If Connie says she doesn’t need to go see Rowan, then I won’t tell her she does. Lani gave Connie’s hand a gentle squeeze, silently telling her I get it.

Her head perked up at the mention of heading into town for costumes.

Crap, I don’t have a costume.

Leilani had normally done group costumes for the past few sessions, but with everything going on, she hadn’t even thought of getting a costume. Do I even want to go? Last year was a crap fest of the highest order… but that was Renee’s doing… and she’s not here anymore… Leilani quickly shook the thought out of her head, forcing whatever answer was at the forefront of her mind to spit out before Connie became too concerned;

“Yeah, I’m such an airhead I forgot to bring a costume for our annual tradition,” Her voice was a mix of playful yet self-deprecating. While Renee may not have been there, her thoughts, sentiments and influence still lived on in Leilani’s brain. She’d definitely think I was stupid or lame for not bringing a costume. Some sick and twisted part of the artist secretly wished she’d hear the words come out of Renee’s mouth just one more time. “But I have no idea what I want to dress up as, so I don’t want you to stress out trying to choose something, Connie,”

“Hey,” Connie found herself shaking her head a bit, letting a small smile tug upward at the corner’s of her lips in solidarity. “Neither do I. I’m just…winging it and seeing what’s in stock at Fancy That when we all get there.” She recalled the last time she had stepped foot in the costume shop last year—filled to the brim with outfits both popular and unheard of. Despite it being some time that had past since then, Connie knew the shop had decent options that, at the very least, would keep both girls from earning sidelong glances.

A thought began to creep at the forefront of her mind—It doesn’t hurt to ask. “How about we match this year? To, y’know—” she shrugged halfheartedly at her friend in hopes that the next words that came out of her mouth didn’t sound stupid. “This isn’t going to be easy on either of us. Maybe dressing up together will make tonight more bearable.” As much as it can be. There was nothing stopping her from sheltering in tonight—almost preferring the thought of having a cabin all to herself—but Connie knew she couldn’t ditch after running out on orientation. On Leon, she winced internally in remembrance.

I need him to know that I don’t think it’s his fault.

A beat passed before Connie’s words seeped into Leilani’s mind, before they hit her. Connie wants to do matching costumes? Despite the grief and pain in the air between them, Lani couldn’t help the smile that grew large on her face. “Really? You’d want to do matching costumes with me?” the thoughts of skipping the Sunspot rushed out of her head. Maybe I’m not as alone as I thought; Connie wants to match with me even though I’m best friends with her ex, Lani’s anxieties and fears seemed to momentarily melt away, in the validation that her and Connie’s friendship was strong. A warm, comforting feeling blossomed in her chest, “I’d absolutely love to match with you, Connie! I can even help do our makeup with whatever costume you choose!” She reached out and held both of her hands in her own again, “It won’t be easy tonight, but I think we’ll make it through if we stick together” Leilani gave her friend a warm smile and a small squeeze of her hands.

Beaming, Connie let out a relieved sigh through the wider smile she wasn’t used to sporting during these last few months, one that said thank god when Leilani was on board with the idea. “Awesome.” she stated, giving the girl’s hands a light squeeze back as a display of reciprocated excitement before breaking the contact. “I’m sure I can find something decent for us to wear even though it’s July. At the very least, we won’t show up in novelty accessories while everyone’s all decked out.”

With her mental focus mostly cleared of anxiety and paranoia, and welcomingly replaced with a sense of calm, the redirection towards costume shopping gauged another question. “Now that we’re talking about it, actually, do you know what time it is?”

Grin still wide on her face, Leilani glanced down at the brightly colored watch on her wrist. She brought it closer to her face and pressed a button on its face and the small, digital screen lit up, “It’s about 2:45, I’m guessing you’ve gotta go?” The girl let her arms fall to her side as she readjusted her bag on her shoulder, “Wouldn’t want you to be late! Go get our costumes and we’ll meet at the cabin before sunspot, yeah?” Lani gave her friend a warm thumbs up gesture as she watched her friend turn to leave.

Parting with Leilani had left Connie feeling a little lighter than before in spite of the unexpected company on her way to the trail. Every fiber of her being had wilted in sorrow—the news of Lisa’s disappearance etching its way across what was left of her sanity after losing Paige. She hadn’t even returned to camp healed from the last devastating blow, so being forced to swallow heavy-hearted news on such short notice, and carry on as if nothing was happening, was asking Connie for more than what she could promise to give. If I ask to go home, maybe Jonathan will understand, she contemplates, arms tightly crossed over her chest like a makeshift shield. Make it to the end of the week first, and then decide.

Exhaling slow and deliberate, the boating instructor begins to focus her attention at the tasks at hand, half hoping that maybe heading into town will offer a reprieve from a camp that begin to feel suffocating. And besides, “—Kayden will be there,” she reassures herself out loud, feeling her nerves begin to loosen from their knots at the reminder. But the calm was short-lived and replaced with an intense bitterness threatening to transform into a blinding migraine at the sight of the familiar head of blonde. You’re fucking kidding me…

There isn’t just one, but two, that causes Connie’s eyebrows to wound tighter the closer she gets to the small group who stood in relaxed stupors next to the start of the trail. A small part of her quick judgement dissolves at the sight, but it does nothing to erase the familiarity of Juliette’s try-hard Evergreen persona she chose to adopt this session. One thing’s for certain, however, and that is her concealed suspicion. Who’s the other girl?

With little energy to focus on Juliette and her apparent friend, she opts for greeting the only other two figures—along with an unfamiliar someone draped across Hugo’s shoulder—standing nearby that didn’t have grating personalities. Connie offers a warm smile toward Riley first as she slowly approaches them, before letting her gaze slide over to the infamous groundskeeper. “Hey Riley, Hugo…,” she chimes in, doing her best to conceal her weakened mood in spite of the effort not quite reaching her eyes.

Hugo faintly listens while Juliette and Annie caught up, his eyes wandering around the camp and tuning out their girl talk in favour of checking the clunky and restraining watch Jonathan gifted him four summers ago. It’s a Rolex, Hugo. It’s fucken tight is what it is.

“I gots to go.” He announces, noticing the hour. “You all headed in together as a group?” Silently counting the heads of Annie, Juliette, Riley, Nicolas and—

Connie. “Hey there, kid,” his hand reaches out to seize the new addition's shoulder, pulling her in close to the group and guiding her to stand between Nicolas and Riley. “Keep your eyes fucken’ peeled. I don’t want an excuse to speak to Gavin Jones again. Spend money. Be safe.” With a parting two-finger salute wave, Hugo’s heavy footsteps carry him in the direction of the Lodge to pick up the package waiting for him.

Riley felt herself visibly begin to relax once Connie showed up. Finally someone she actually liked and felt comfortable around. She side-stepped as Hugo pulled Connie over, sending the brunette a small smile as their eyes met. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad if she was coming along. “Bye Hugo.” She lifted her free hand, waving farewell as he made his way down the trail.

Juliette stood politely, her smile warm and unwavering as Hugo took his leave. She offered a small, timid wave goodbye, watching him disappear down the path. The moment he was out of sight, her expression shifted, the genuine warmth fading into a tight-lipped smile as her gaze snapped towards Connie. One brow arched slightly, her tone laced with a faint, overly sweet edge.

“Connie, nice of you to join us.” Who the fuck invited her?

Oh—. Feeling her shoulders stiffen as Hugo’s heavy hand clasped against one of them, Connie ensured she recovered quick by letting the groundskeeper move her between the other counselors, glancing down to make sure she wouldn’t trip over anything in the process. In spite of his unexpected greeting, his familiar nature gauged a dimpled smile, distracting her from her dejected stupor with a flourish. O-kay, Hugo.

His quick departure only let her nod in response even though he hadn’t turned around from his purposeful stride, a sight Connie had grown accustomed to when she started working at camp. Nice guy, she starts to think before a familiar voice she hadn’t wished to hear so early sliced through her reverie.

Her smile fell, unable to mirror the bullshit one Juliette intended on displaying in front of the crowd.

“Yeah…,” she could only muster, feeling a phantom discomfort in her throat at how difficult it was to swallow the rest of what she wanted to say. Her arms came back up across her chest defensively, impatient and slow taps of her foot against the ground joining into the awkward melody. “Wish I could say the same.” her jaw clenched. I tried.

She let out a low, drawn-out whistle, her gaze raking over Connie with a sneer that screamed, hey, I did my best to be kind. “Didn’t think I had to worry about you stopping by,” she remarked, her tone light but laced with venom. “Figured you’d stick with the same depressed get-up you always go for.” Even when Paige was around.

Clicking her tongue, Juliette gently unlinked her arm from Annie’s, crossing them low against her chest as she shifted her weight onto one hip. Her eyes darted off to the side, scanning for a familiar face—anyone who might be able to still save this trip.

That earned an audible scoff out of Levine, a quick smile—with no joy in it—adorning her features at Juliette’s sudden boldness. Instinctively, she bit down on the inside of her cheek, a firm reminder to herself that this wasn’t the appropriate time or place, and Yorkes didn’t deserve any kind of reaction. “Sorry you’re so disappointed to see me—” Yorkie, her bitter mind filled in the blank before she could stop it. A tinge of disappointment in herself began to settle in her stomach, but she continued anyway.

We don’t always get what we want though… “But good for you for finally using your words this summer,” the quip was laced with more sarcasm than Connie intended, but that didn’t equate to regret. She was firm and she meant it by the way she kept her gaze on Juliette, who had now opted to look elsewhere. “You should save it for someone who cares to hear it though.” Another bitter thought began to form:

Renee should have kept your muzzle here.

Connie let her eyes roll as she cast her glance anywhere but at her now, hellbent on letting the conversation die even though she was left to stew in the tension she had fueled. Now it was her turn to look for a savior in the crowd—Riley, unfortunately, caught up in a conversation with the taller one she had been stuck next to. Kayden? Leon? Even Ricky would have made a better option, small talk and awkward chuckles aside.

Riley darted her eyes between Connie and Juliette as the two began to go back and forth. Hugo come back. She felt as if she could cut the tension in the air with a knife. She found herself glancing back towards Nicolas, wondering how he was taking all of this. The piece of jewelry hanging around his neck caught her attention again instead, Seriously where have I seen that before? Hopefully she would figure it out soon otherwise it would drive her crazy.

Juliette flinched at the sudden abruptness in Connie’s words, her mind immediately filling in the unspoken word—Yorkie. Stop it. A sharp laugh escaped her mouth, but it was too sharp and high-pitched to sound natural, masking the sting behind her eyelids. She squeezed her arms around herself, as if trying to hold it all in, but immediately dropped them to her sides, unwilling to show any more vulnerability in front of Connie of all people.

“Geez, Connie. Don’t be so sensitive. Was just stating the obvious. Whatever.”
Liberty adjusts the strap of her shoulder-bag, her mind refusing to stray from the contents within—especially with Lou at her side, the weight of the bottle heavier than before. “Sorry to drag you away from Ramona.” Her tone refutes the claim, sounding the least bit apologetic to interrupt Mona in the slightest. At least she hadn’t meant to be petty. “Figured you could get her something nice in town, and—” she throws a wayward glance at him, her hand rising to shield her eyes from the blaring sun. “I need to ask you a question.”

Lou's interest was piqued by her inquiry, pulling him back into the moment when otherwise he might have spaced out. He hadn't minded the idea of tagging along into town, especially since Levi and Nic would be there, making it more of a hang-out than a simple errand for something he wasn't putting much thought into anyways. Still, there was an awkwardness that clung to the walk besides the blonde girl. His history with Liberty was minimal--just a few fleeting encounters recalled before he left Easthallow entirely. Beyond that, any mention of her had come secondhand, filtered through his friends and, most notably, JC, whose stories always seemed to carry an undercurrent of irritation.

Fixing her gaze back on the path ahead, careful to keep their walk at an even pace—his single stride requiring her to make up for double the amount—Liberty unzips her bag. “You’re somewhat close with JC, and I’m decidedly not,” she pulls the bottle free, showing the label ‘Angel’s Envy’. “Is this a brand either of you partake in? Found it near the cabins, and no—I’m not going to tell or rat you guys out, almost everyone drinks here.”

He raised a brow, his eyes lingering on the worn label, its adhesive edges curling up to reveal the engraving beneath. The sight brought out some memories—those nights at his cabin with JC, always beginning with some kind of liquor before the beer made its inevitable appearance to close out the evening. The bottles varied, depending on how late (or how early) either of them had decided to make the trek to the country store, but JC's preferences had always been unwavering. Lou could almost hear the kid's voice now, that trademark confidence of his, as if his choice was the right one whether they'd end up settling on another.

"Mmm..." Lou's voice trailed off, still fixated on the label, not quite confident in his own memory. It very well could be JC's--or it might not. He shrugged, "Not really my thing, but yeah, it does look like somethin’ JC would pick up. Been a while since either of us drank t’gether, though."

Lou eyed Liberty with curiosity, resting on the notion there had to be some angle she wasn’t showing. JC made it pretty clear he didn't get along with her and certainly they weren’t close enough for light-hearted chitchat over alcohol brands. Liberty certainly didn't strike him as anyone who'd partake in killing a whole bottle of something like this, and especially not with his former friend. “Why?”

He wondered if JC had gotten himself into something potentially worth costing him his job. It didn't do himself any favors to withhold any truths about him to Liberty anyhow. Lou had no intention of shielding JC from the truth, not when leaving an empty bottle like this behind was sloppy—too stupid, even for him.

Liberty hesitates, her grip faltering on the bottle when the truth settles in—Levi and Lou both denied ownership, leaving one glaring option left. She drops her gaze for a second in consideration; she hardly knew Lou well enough to predict his reaction to the possibility of a secret relationship between JC and Renee, but she was too curious to stay silent.

Twisting the bottle to show the post-it note, ‘kept him warmer than the whiskey’, Liberty offers a half-shrug to downplay the torrent of thoughts closing in on her. JC was unpredictable, reckless, almost violent—was it a stretch to think he might know more about the disappearance?

“JC and Renee were seeing each other.” Liberty’s trademark half-smile falls into place, masking the concern in the pit of her stomach. “Probably nothing, though.”

The post-it note, though somewhat ambiguous in it's meaning, left little room for misinterpretation. It's crude implication left Lou a bit unsettled, especially in light of the context. The mere suggestion that JC and Renee were seeing each other felt entirely out of place. Lou couldn't recall JC ever expressing any interest in her—he certainly never spoke of her unless it was in brief passing, usually in relation to Lou's ramblings about Paige.

Yet, in retrospect, Lou realized the argument they'd had had likely bothered JC not just because of Paige's fixation on drugs, but because of Renee's potential wrath upon him as a result. Even still, it seemed like a very loose accusation.

Attention drawn to the trail they were currently striding towards and the group gathered around, Liberty makes quick work of shoving the evidence of Renee’s ways back into her bag with deft but numbed fingers—a side-effect of her rising anxiety, losing sensation in her hands.

“Any plans for a costume?” She switches the topic of conversation and pulls the zip of her bag closed.

"Uh, no." Lou's eyes wavered to a pair of squirrels scampering up a nearby tree, their paws sending dry bark fluttering to the ground as they disappeared into the higher branches. Liberty, suddenly uninterested in lingering on the prior topic, seamlessly shifted to something else, leaving Lou to follow her lead without so much as a word. He didn’t know her well enough to pry into her discovery, but the whole situation felt off. In that moment, Lou felt that if Mona was walking with them, her eyes alone would have mirrored his whiplash.

Maybe I’ll tell her about it later..

Lou felt the cigarette carton pressed against his back pocket, pulling it out only to slip it back in place—the familiar motion of cigarette and lighter meeting ends giving him a moment to exhale. "Figured I'd get inspired by whatever they got goin' on at Willamina," he muttered, letting the smoke out as he spoke, "What about you, anythin' special?"

“Same plan as you,” Liberty laughs, short and mirthful. Truth or Dare had been the last thing on her mind when packing for this year’s session, the space in her luggage reserved for mass-paperback books and practical clothing. She notes the familiar way in which he lights his cigarette, reminded instantly of Levi and allows herself to relax, knowing Levi knew how to pick his friends carefully—if Lou was in his good graces, then it didn’t matter how close he was to JC. Or Mona.

Curiosity tugs at her chest, eager to gently pry about his opinions on everything. Too many people were dancing around the elephant in the room, steadfastly ignoring the obvious, and as they closed in on the gathered group, she lowered her voice, “you think dressing up is horribly inappropriate this time around?”

Lou met her eyes, a slow, reluctant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A bit, yeah.”

His indifference to ‘tradition’ had more to do with a general disinterest in dressing up for anything, ever. But Leon’s casual dismissal of the morning’s news made the entire affair so.. lame. Two disappearances already hung over the town like a dark cloud, and with the addition of another so soon, the mismatch between a costume party and the gravity of the situation made it all the more absurd. Really, the gesture was so out of sync with reality it didn't just border inappropriate—it was textbook definitive.

However, he’d keep that to himself. A bottle of whiskey alone in Cabin 4 felt irately depressing, but sharing it with a couple of friends—along with some smokes—was a hell of a lot better than the former. Besides, given how absurd the last day and a half had turned out to be, it'd sure be entertaining too.

“I could do without the fashion show but,” Lou shrugged, “—beats stayin’ in, fixatin’ on all the bad shit.”

One to constantly fixate, whether she ends up with a conclusive answer or not, Liberty can’t say she agrees with the assessment—but understands. Her reasons for putting up with Truth or Dare in previous years had always been to keep a watchful eye on Renee, daring the Evergreen to speak out of turn where Levi was concerned, eager to introduce her to the concept of consequences. With this year’s clear absence looming above them all, she supposes someone beat her to it.

Looking up, Lou caught sight of an unmistakable mop of dark hair, framed by a set of animated expressions that could only belong to one person. When their eyes met, he gave his friend a subtle nod of acknowledgment, his face breaking into an unwavering grin. "Aye Nic—long time no see!"

Nicolas had found himself wholly entertained by his friend Juliette’s current cat fight with—who he assumed was—another counselor after his father departed. The tension between the girls had obviously ran deep, connecting them at the heart by what could only make history to blame. Whatever it was had beckoned the younger Burns to watch, making him fall silent and push Riley’s occasional stares to blend like a watercolor painting in the background of his vision.

That was until a distinct voice calling his name, one he hadn’t heard in years, successfully pulled him out of his focused stupor to look at its origin. “No fuckin’ way,” Nicolas announced, a wide smile fueled by unbridled affection for Lou Van Royen tugged at the corners of his mouth before his feet followed suit in his direction.

“Finally, you come home!” As soon as Lou was within grabbing distance, Nic shamelessly slotted his arm around his shoulder and pulled him close.

It’d be impossible to mask the happiness radiating from the embrace, Lou felt the years of friendship like a wave crashing over—reminding him just of what he was missing out on. Finally, yeah.

“Did you come by just to see me?” voice rich in high spirits exuded from him in large doses, genuinely pleased to see his friend again. The blonde girl walking with him, however, emanated pure curiosity.

“Hi there,” he offers her a smile, not even close to reduced from the one he had offered Lou. “You don’t mind sharing him with me, do you? I haven’t seen the guy in a while.”

Liberty watched the exchange, entertained by this being her fourth year at camp and she’d never seen either men before, but their histories could be so entwined. She gives an understanding shrug, returning the smile of the one clad in leather boots with a jacket to match.

“Hi, I’m Liberty.” She introduces herself, closing in until she’s standing directly across from the pair without needing to shout across the distance. “All yours. How long have you two known each other?” She questions with a genuine curiosity, letting her eyes stray from them long enough to give a half-hearted wave to the counsellors lingering around the trail into town.

"Only the last twelve years," Lou replied, his voice a touch absent as he pulled away from the embrace—hand lingering on Nic's shoulder for just a second longer. He turned and for the briefest instant, locked gazes with two blonde girls standing paces away. The recognition was fleeting—nothing more than a polite nod of acknowledgment to both of the familiar faces before he shifted his attention back towards Liberty and Nicolas once more.

It wasn’t until the girls left his sights that it dawned on him. One of the blondes was Juliette. Redheaded Juliette; the mousy girl from his childhood who’d long since faded from his life, drifted off from his inner circle years ago. Only she was far from a ginger now, just as the buzz from counselors the first day of session, recited over and over like a broken record. Oh, she really did go blonde then. The kind of pale, yellowy blonde seen in the magazine clippings of airbrushed women plastered over salon windows. Really fuckin' blonde.

“He’s not exaggerating either,” Nic tacks on, letting his arms drop back down to his sides as the three languidly closed the distance that had kept them away from the group of counselors. “He’s seen the good, the bad, the ugly—not that there’s much ugly to look at,” he adds goodnaturedly with a laugh to pair, intent on keeping the mood afloat after it had dwindled during Juliette and her rival’s back and forth tension.

Wonder how Blondie’s doin’ now? At the thought, he spares another glance toward her—attempting to read which phase of their argument they had walked into—before refocusing on Liberty again. “It’s nice to meet you though, Liberty. I like your name too,” a thought reaches the forefront of his mind as his head tilts to match her curiosity. “I didn’t see you earlier with the other newbies. Do you have years here too like that Supervisor guy or did you—” Ditch like me. The truth interjects, but he hides it with a smirk, decidedly storing that knowledge for someone who he wasn’t only just meeting now. “Nevermind.”

Liberty whistles, impressed by the durability of their withstanding friendship and stopping short to laugh, bemused by the comment on his own appearance. One of them, she shakes her head gently—the only other person she’d known to hype themselves up was Lisa. Her genuine smile pulls downwards at the corners for a split second at the reminder of their missing farmer, wondering if this man even knew.

“Some years, not as many as Leon.” Liberty explained, following him and Lou towards the trails’ beginning. “Many new people this session?” Her tone portrays doubt, unable to fathom the allure of Camp Evergreen in the wake of constant tragedies.

Nic shook his head. “Not really. I can count all of them on one hand.” and he did, trying his best to recall how many faces he had remembered seeing with Miriam at the bridge, listing them one by one with his head tilted up as if the sky held all the answers. “There was uh—Billie. And Annie. My friend Miriam—” a long pause interrupted Nic’s vocal recollection as he tried to remember the last girl. He could see the timid counselor plain as day in his mind, but decidedly shook his head when he couldn’t place her name.

“That’s all I can remember. But I guess you could say that’s a lot given…” he made a face at Liberty, hinting at the obvious answer any counselor with a few years—even if it was just one—would understand. The whole town knows. It was the hot topic of Easthallow back in 2001, but especially back home the way Trish had expected him to feel some type of sadness for the family he grew alongside with. But the harsh reality was: He didn’t. And he wouldn’t.

The sound of Annalise’s name being carried on the wind from a nearby group had the blonde breaking away from Juliette in favor of seeking out the source.

A trio stood not far off—out of them, she only recognized Liberty, which couldn’t have been a good sign. One of the boys, a tall blond, seemed vaguely familiar, too. Perhaps he also had a close tie to the Evergreens, though whether or not they had liked him was up for debate—it was hard even now to keep track of the intricate webs they wove, and Annie had given up trying long ago. It was the dark-haired man, however, that’d unwittingly summoned her, given the fact he was still listing off names when she’d arrived. She waited for him to finish speaking before announcing her presence: “What was that?” As much as Annalise hoped for it to be in good context, she doubted it.

“What?” Nic spun around at the sound of another voice approaching, gaze flickering downward slightly when he spotted one of the girls he had mentioned seeing to Liberty. “Oh shit, it’s you!” A small smile appeared on his face as he turned back toward the group—motioning over to their new addition. “That’s the Annie I was talking about,” he explained before casting another quick glance back at the blonde.

Liberty acknowledges Annie with a courteous nod, ignoring the prickle along her spine. “I know her,” she tactfully trains the tightness out of her tone, on alert—as always—around the ones closest to the Evergreens. Flicking her gaze behind the honey blonde, she notices both Connie and Juliette in the distance—speaking of.

Plastering on a genuine smile, Liberty pivots her body to stand beside Nicolas and face the girl head on. “Surprised to see you back, Annie.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Annalise’s words were punctuated by a nervous laugh, addressing the man first before diverting her attention to Liberty. The way she put distance between them, angling herself for a better viewpoint as if Annie was a dog that might attack as soon as her back was turned wasn’t lost on the blonde, and Annalise’s smile wavered, even more so when she considered Liberty’s statement.

She had a point—Annie’s return was somewhat unexpected to anyone who didn’t know her well-enough to see a person beyond her close relation with both Evergreen sisters. The camp had always been more of a home to her than the expansive list of places she’d lived throughout her childhood—it’d been the only constant, and tragedy or not, she had no intention of changing that, even if it may have seemed suspicious to others. “Jonathan and Eva need all the help they can get,” Annalise decided, “especially after…everything. We have to be there for each other.” Not that you would know anything about that. Liberty never had liked the Evergreens.
After sports, Levi made his way towards the Easthallow trail, the crisp air cooling his nerves. By chance, they bumped into Joey along the way, which instantly brightened his mood.

"Reesieeee! Levi!" Joey's voice rang out, bright and eager, as she practically skipped the last few steps to close the gap between them. A wide grin spread across her face, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I missed you guys terribly." She pulled Clarisse into a quick, firm hug, before offering the same to Levi.

Now, with his arm casually slung around the petite swimmer, Levi felt a bit of the day's weight lift off his shoulders, only enough to have him pretend that everything was okay for now. “It’s good to see you, seriously,” he admitted to Joey, flashing Clarisse a sideways glance with a hint of a smile—thanks for inviting me, his eyes seemed to say, even if his words didn’t quite voice it aloud.

Removing his arm, he nudged Joey’s shoulder as he added, “hopefully, you guys are lucky with Willamina. Don’t think I’ll be dressing up…as anything impressive.”

Clarisse flashed him a smile as a response, her hands securely inside her pocket as they walked together next to Joey, opposite of Levi. Joey’s presence seemed to lift up the mood between the two of them and she was thankful for that. Around her, she allowed herself to fully relax and follow her lead.

“Oh… Willamina?” If she remembered correctly, that was the thrift shop, wasn’t it? Good options but not exactly what she had in mind. “We were planning to go to Fancy That. Give a bit more options.” It had been the same place Ricky had dragged her to for her last minute Robin costume from the year before. “We could probably… go to Willamina first, get your costume then head to the costume shop?” She had no particular want to leave him alone when she had invited him along.

“That costume shop?” Levi echoed, the name sparking a flicker of recognition. He was familiar with most of the stores around Easthallow, often stopping by a day early to meet up with Lisa before the camp session kicked off. His fingers absently toyed with the black bracelets circling his wrist, a subconscious habit he was beginning to pick up whenever his mind drifted to thoughts of his missing friend.

Not wanting to drag the mood down completely, he grimaced instead, shooting Clarisse a look that said don’t count on it. “It’s the beginning of July,” he pointed out, his tone laced with mild skepticism.

His gaze shifted from Clarisse to the trail ahead, catching sight of a small group huddled together in the distance. He paused, narrowing his eyes at the scene trying to decipher who was who, before continuing, “Doubt there’d be much to work with, best get a move on already if you want something decent.”

Joey shook her head in disagreement, “No way, think about it guys, zero competition for costumes right now. We’re all gonna find something good, I can feel it.”

Clarisse shrugged, agreeing with Joey. “It’s only a little get together. I’m sure there’s something in the stocks we could use.” It was far easier to just get a singular costume than have to look around to mash together an outfit that was reminiscent of a movie character… or maybe she just didn’t want to exert any kind of effort for this year.

Her gaze followed his to a gathering group at the end of the trail. “Costumes are a hot commodity I guess.” She idly wondered if Joey had invited others over or if this was just all a happy coincidence. And honestly, once they had approached the group close enough to see who was there, Clarisse was mostly convinced that it was all just a coincidence— happy would be pushing it.

“Little get-together,” He echoed with a sarcastic edge as he took in the growing crowd. Levi squinted towards the sea of faces, spotting a few heads of blonde hair—please let one of them be Liberty.

Costumes are a hot commodity I guess. “Right,” he muttered, dragging the word out with a note of skepticism. He cast a glance at Clarisse, the look on his face somewhere between you’ve got to be kidding me and here we go. Still, he didn’t break stride, continuing forward to close the distance, ignoring the way his pace quickened at the familiar sight of her.

Clarisse gave a small wave to Liberty before giving Levi a slight push to her direction before pivoting to turn to Juliette and Connie. She was no expert in reading the room nor did she pride herself over diffusing any kind of situation, so she merely gave them a small salute as a greeting. “You two going out to find a costume too?” She asked, placing herself nearly in between Connie and Juliette to snap them out of it.

Juliette felt her mood lift noticeably as Clarisse swooped in, saving what little energy she had left. A small, genuine smile found its way to her lips, and she gave the younger substitute a polite, timid wave. Linking her hands neatly behind her back, she straightened slightly. “Leon asked me to pick up a costume for him,” she explained, mouth twisting to the side to flash Connie a look, remembering the photo she’d ripped earlier. “Might even look for something last minute for myself while I’m at it.”

The substitute’s sudden appearance in front of Connie’s line of sight had released her from the hold Juliette’s sharp laugh trapped her in. Despite the tension being partially diffused, she couldn’t help but chance a bemused glance in the blonde’s direction one last time before acknowledging Clarisse with a small nod and a tight-lipped smile. “I’m looking for a matching costume for Leilani and I.” the brunette muttered while uncrossing her arms from her chest and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her shorts—a failed attempt at appearing relaxed even though her tone suggested different. Still, she persevered through her soured mood.

I don’t want to go to the Sunspot anymore than she does but—“We figured going together would make it more enjoyable.”

With both of them seemingly pacified, she further relaxed and nodded. “Perfect. Joey and I were planning to go to Fancy That! We can help look for what you need. Hopefully they still have some good stock lying around.” She turned to look at where Levi had gone, now standing with Liberty and her companions. A small part of her was surprised to see Lou there— wasn’t there a farming activity going on at that moment? Well, she wasn’t about to rain on his parade now that he was back. Another person was with them, a new counselor? But something felt vaguely familiar, as if he had seen him before. Well, not her problem, she’d get to know him over the course of the two weeks of this summer camp. No need to rush.

Then her eyes landed on Annalise and a small voice at the back of her head grew louder. She returned? Clarisse combed through her memories of the previous day and the orientation but there was a glaring lack of Annalise’s presence. Did she just arrive then?

“Other group seems to be going to Willamina,” she muttered, more to herself than anything, as she avoided Annalise’s gaze. “You two waiting on anyone else? ‘Cause we’re gonna lose daylight fast.” Knowing Joey, they might just accidentally spend hours inside that costume shop. It’ll be fun but she wasn’t exactly looking forward to missing dinner before the truth or dare.

At the mention of Willamina, Juliette’s gaze shifted past Clarisse, taking in the sight of the newcomers that joined their group. Her eyes flickered from one face to the next before she looked away, shifting her attention back to Renee’s best friend, offering a faint smile. “No, not waiting on anyone else. Not me, at least,” she replied, her voice measured.

She suddenly regretted accepting Leon’s offer, I should have just said no— realization dawning too late that this wasn’t some small, casual outing but a whole parade. Her teeth caught the inside of her cheek, biting down hard to suppress a sigh or a snarky remark. Is it too late to back out?

But then, another thought wormed its way in. That would mean Connie wins.

The idea simmered unpleasantly, leaving a sour taste behind. “I have no clue what’s taking so long, or who we’re waiting on,” she added, her tone edged with impatience. Maybe I should just walk it alone, she mused, her fingers twitching as if already reaching for an escape route.

Flickers of impatience began to simmer within Connie’s skin at the back and forth mention of who else the idle group had been waiting for, but it was short lived given the person it was. “Kayden should be coming soon…” she muttered the reassurance to herself rather than as an answer to Clarisse’s inquiry, but there was no rule against it being for both purposes. Another thought formed unpleasantly, however: It’s not like he owes me his time though.

Her teeth found her bottom lip at the truth, hoping that in spite of putting him on the spot during orientation, Kayden would still show for the trip to Easthallow. He probably changed his mind.

“But if he doesn’t show in the next five, we can just go—” Just as Connie began to turn her head away in favor of addressing Clarisse directly, her attention fell on his familiar figure now; paces away yet close enough to decipher that she wasn’t going to be stuck alone with Juliette of all people. Thank-fucking-god, the brunette can’t help the breath of relief that falls as she spoke again. “Wait. I see him.”

Kayden crossed the last few feet between him and the rest of the group, shoving his sleeves back up to his elbow from where they’d drifted down towards his wrists. He took a moment to eye the amount of people surrounding them before giving Connie his full attention. “Guessing I’m late, unless half the camp is coming,” he said. “Sorry; ran into one of the new counselors and nobody had shown her where to put her stuff. Or told her which cabin she’s in. Didn’t want her to get lost on her first day.”

At the not-so-subtle shove in Liberty’s direction, Levi caught himself, shooting the younger counselor a glare with no real bite. He mumbled a mental thanks before letting his expression soften. His eyes caught the shimmer of her opal earrings, accentuated by the way her pinned back hair swayed as she turned towards him.

“Uh, Clarisse invited me,” he filled in quickly, his hand running through his hair that left it slightly messier. He gestured vaguely towards the crowd with a tilt of his head, spotting Riley with Connie and Juliette. “Didn’t think it’d be this big a scene. Which shop?”

Liberty lingers on Annalise’s smile, tapering from the comment, and listens patiently to the explanation she fails to buy. Be there for each other—an otherwise truthful statement if the company Annalise kept in summers past hadn’t consisted of a family specialised in ripping people apart.

Debating on whether it was worth leaning into her thoughts and giving a voice to the obvious, she’s side-tracked by approaching footsteps. She turns in time to catch Clarisse’s wave, quickly returning it before Levi’s figure slides into her point of view, softening the features she hadn’t known became pointed during the exchange with Annalise.

Her nose wrinkles in bemusement as his fingers comb through his hair in an unsuccessful attempt to manage his mussed up strands. Cute. A notion that quickly sours as their morning slams into mind, how he’d fled the Dining Hall as Lisa’s disappearance was announced.

Clarisse invited me. “Glad she did. Willamina,” she announces her choice, disbelieving that the gaudy costume store of Fancy That! would provide her with anything worthwhile. Creative liberties seemed more impressive than a carbon copy made of cheap materials. Her lips pursed, silencing the urge to ask how he was doing in front of a sea of people—and gratefully falls into a distraction, placing her hand on Levi’s arm to catch his attention before gesturing towards the newcomer besides Lou.

Beaming, she glances at Nicolas. “This is… I didn’t catch your name?”

At the light touch, Levi instinctively looked away from the group, forcing a tight smile to appear on his face. Didn’t realize Riley would be here, talk about a reunion. Following her gesture, he turned, only to find a few people he had missed earlier. Yikes. He snuck a glance at Liberty’s direction, spotting her beaming smile, only for his stomach to twist uncomfortably, but he pushed through, keeping his composure despite the discomfort.

Stepping into Levi’s line of sight—his bubbly exterior wholeheartedly in tow—Nic gave the new addition to the group a slight wave and genuine smile, staying firm on his attempt to keep the group as lighthearted as possible in spite of the entertainment he unashamedly got out of watching the drama unfold in his front row seat.

“Nicolas if you’re my ol’ man, Nic if you’re actually cool,” he answered with chuckle before turning his sights back to Liberty again. “Willamina, though? I love that store. Decent options for such a small ass town…” his voice trailed off when threw a look back to his good friend, Lou—smile widening to something hinting at mischievous nostalgia. “I used to drag Lou there all the time before I left town for school. We made our fun there when there wasn’t shit else to do.” And now we get another chance again.

With unfiltered mirthe still flowing from his demeanor, Nic finally returned his attention back to the other counselor after cutting his nostalgic train of thought short. “Sorry, force of habit. What’s your name?”

When he caught sight of Nicolas—or whatever his name is—he returned the awkward wave with uncertainty, “Hey, uh, there, Nicolas,” his voice trailed off as his eyes shifted to the familiar set of honey blonde and then—“Lou, you’re back! How the fuck am I only just seeing you now?”

"Hey." Lou offered a tight-lipped smile, his energy mirroring Levi's sudden shift, before stepping in for a quick hug. "Yeah—didn’t realize it’d be such'a field trip.."

“You’re telling me.” Levi stepped forward to greet his friend, drawing him into a firm embrace and giving him a pat on the back. As they pulled apart, his hand found its way to the familiar shaggy strands of light colored hair, he’s gotten taller. His gaze lingered for a moment on Lou's face—the bags under his eyes were lighter than the last time they’d seen each other. Better, at least, he thought, pushing away the flicker of concern.

“Holy shit, you grew, man. Leon’s gonna flip.” He lifted a hand to gesture at his side, pausing at the midsection of his chest. “He’s gotten—” Levi bit back a small grin as he patted the air at the exaggerated height, “yay big over the years.”

"Man, easy for you to say," Lou sneered sheepishly, the flashbacks of this morning’s joke with Mona about her own height making it all the more funny. Height jabs, oddly staple of a reunion joke.

Leon... If Levi and Nic had felt like revisiting old chapters in a worn-out book, Leon's reunion would be something else entirely—more uncertain, like opening a door to a room he hadn’t stepped into in years. Lou had caught a brief glimpse this morning—just a flash of familiar features as Leon broke the news of Lisa then carried on with the rest of the day's itinerary. There wasn’t much time to work with there.

There was some lingering embarrassment from when he'd first left, a quiet kind of shame that clung to him like a shadow, especially around certain people. It wasn’t something that demanded attention, but it was always there, lurking, especially when faces from the past were around. But that discomfort was cushioned by the easy chatter—casual, light-hearted, almost as if there hadn’t been much of a heavy history to weigh them down at all. Lou wanted to lean into the moment, letting the simplicity of it wash over him. Still, behind the smile, the walls were up.

The cheerful moment quickly faded as Nicolas kept talking—why the fuck is he smiling so much—and he felt the familiar prickling irritation crawl under his skin—this guy knows Lou too? Levi shot a curious glance at his friend, brows furrowed, wondering if they were one of the people that Lou stayed in contact with. Our fun?

“Levi.” Turning to the one with darker hair, his voice dropped slightly, as if a little more guarded now, “you’re from Easthallow?” Has Lisa heard about him also?

Quick to respond despite his answer probably falling on Levi’s deaf ears, Nic nodded as his smile relaxed into a neutral one. “you aren’t?” the question fell in form of surprise before he could stop it—confused at how Levi hadn’t been a local given his friendly interaction with Lou. How does he know Lou? “How do you know Lou then? We’ve been passing cigarettes back ‘n forth since we were kids and I never heard of a ‘Levi’...” pulling away from the conversation to mull over his own childhood memories, Nic shrugged when he couldn’t put a much younger face to the name—settling for the cloud of memories he must’ve faded into the background of.

I can get to know him now!

Shaking his head at the idea of living in Easthallow—a place that might as well be a ghost town—Levi clarified, “California. Went to this shithole as a camper, stuck around for a...friend.” The word felt awkward as it left his mouth, his expression tightening into a grimace as Nicolas' words hung in the air.

Levi risked a glance in Lou’s direction, only to look away just as quickly. It’s fine, he assured himself, he was going through shit. Besides, he never expected his friends to talk about him—he preferred it that way.

“Just fleeting moments whenever we could,” he added, tossing out a casual shrug to maintain the mood, “usually through payphones, catching up. Saw him around camp once after he moved across the lake.”

Lou let the two talk, sensing maybe the slightest hint of tension between them—for reasons unknown. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that these two men were probably the only ones he’d spoken to regularly since his temporary absence, yet they’d never met, never been aware of each other’s existence.

He felt a tinge of awkward air as the two passed memories about him like a football. Dark days, haha. It was strange, his past like a relic handled from two angles. Lou smirked at the payphone remark, a mixture of discomfort and humor, but the scoff following felt hollow like a reflex.

Liberty’s smile slipped until she was forced to pull her bottom lip between her teeth, trapping her amused concern by how guarded Levi became the longer Nicolas spoke. His embrace with Lou was a welcome surprise, grateful the void Lisa left behind wouldn’t be hopelessly unfilled—and a short-lived moment at the dawning realisation that he was not the only person sharing history with the blonde.

With the frustrated set to his brows and unkempt hair, Liberty relents her efforts on keeping her hands at bay and rises on her tip-toes to reach Levi’s mop of hair. She combs through the strands, coaxing them into appearing presentable and no longer sending off the impression of hostility—ever failing in that regard—and upon drawing her hand back, she flicks at his opal barbell with her thumb in playful warning to tone down his territorial tendencies. Be nice.

For what? Levi raised a skeptical brow in Liberty’s direction, though the sharpness in his expression reluctantly softened at the unexpected physical contact. Her fingers combed through the sorry excuse of his hair before flicking his piercing with a teasing familiarity. He grumbled a low “I introduced myself?” under his breath, stepping back to create some space between himself and the lively individual. His hand moved to fiddle with the worn wristbands circling his arm, it’s just some guy.

Before nostalgia can cripple her—the almost routine motion of messing with his piercing the moment Levi steered towards silliness, and the comforting sight of their matching opal jewellery on full display—Liberty settles back onto planted feet and addresses both Nicolas and Lou. “You both are welcome to join us at Willamina, in that case,” she extends the offer, readying her elbow to jerk into Levi’s side if he walks back on her invitation.

Confusion flickered across his face as he turned to her, doing his best to school his bristled expression. His eyes silently questioned, Us? before he shifted his gaze towards Nicolas and Lou. A tight-lipped smile settled in place, strained but present. “Yeah. Totally. Us.”

“Sick. I can’t wait to go in there again. And get a cigarette.” Nic added, his cheery, default expression souring for a second as he recalled how Hugo’s boot had smashed the only one he got to light and never smoke from. Throwing a look over his shoulder as if scouting the groundskeeper out now, he muttered. “That bastard took mine…”

At the mention of cigarettes, Liberty feigns shielding her face from the sun and trails her eyes towards Levi, see? Something in common, her eyes respond as she drops her hand to adjust the strap on her shoulder absently. “Who took yours?”

“My dad.” If you can even call him one. Taking his turn at feeling the prickling irritation seep under his skin at the name he had to tie his first answer to, he averted his gaze back to the small group, exhaled a quiet huff, and let his eyes roll before his attention fell back on Liberty and Levi. “Hugo Burns.”

Wishing he'd swiped a pair of Leon's sunnies for moments like these, Levi caught Liberty's movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to meet her expression, silently responding back with a look that read half this camp smokes, no big deal.

The shift in mood didn’t escape him, though, and he glanced back at Nicolas, only to realize why the sudden mood dropped. A sharp exhale of a small laugh escaped him, holy shit, a Burns? No wonder Hugo is the way he is.

At the mention of a cigarette, Lou pulled out his pack, patting the bottom of it in habitual fashion, "Until then,"--pulling out three sticks in quick succession. He offered one to Nic, then extended the other to Levi, his brow lifting slightly as if he'd be damn surprised if Levi didn't take it.

“Didn’t realize Hugo had a son,” Levi remarked, his tone caught between amusement and genuine surprise as he reached out to gladly accept the cigarette from Lou. He snapped the lighter open with a practiced flick, the flame catching on the first try as he brought the stick to his lips. He took a slow inhale, the tip glowing as he drew the smoke deep, hissing it out to the side—away from Liberty.

Leaning back slightly, one hand slipped back into his pocket while the other loosely held the cigarette. Nepotism. Camp Evergreen specialty, apparently. He shot Nicolas a pointed look, “never heard of a Nicolas Burns before, though.” Echoing his words back with a casual shrug. “Surprised you weren’t around as a camper.”

Never heard of a Nicolas Burns before, though. Levi’s sharp exhale didn’t go unnoticed on Nicolas, but the burnout had mistaken it for something else entirely: common ground, a fond memory to look back on, the start of a friendship. “Good. That’s how I like it,” he started, exhaling his own small laugh before turning to the cigarette now stretched out in front of him. At a lower volume, and strictly for Lou, he offered a “thanks, man,” before gently plucking it from his friend’s hand and returning his attention to Levi.

“but there’s not enough patience in the world for me to deal with an Evergreen, let alone the wicked bitch of Easthallow. Like that’s a title to brag about.” Nic admitted through a snort, blissfully unaware of his lack of empathy and who he was confiding to. Despite never attending formally, he heard the stories of what it had been like with Renee around and attended enough Evergreen holidays to decide two things: I didn’t miss much and you all deserve to be compensated. His distaste ran deeper than he would ever let on, however—shamefully annoyed at the bruise that still lingered of constantly getting to be his father’s second choice to it.

Instead of dwelling on the inevitable, however, he settled for a slight change of subject. “for 10k, though? I can burn in this hellhole for two weeks.” Getting to ditch with Miri makes the job easier too.

Lou placed the cigarette between his lips, blue eyes on Liberty as he flicked his lighter open, "Yeah, Willy's--rather there than that costume shop," he shrugged and flashed an amused look at Nic, "Owner lady kinda freaks me out." He smiled, a lazy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as he exhaled the smoke with a puff. “No clue what I’m even lookin’ for, though,”

The sound of Lou’s voice chiming in caused Nic to briefly divert his attention from Levi again, the same smile pulling a little wider in response to the lazy one his friend offered. “Nancy’s gonna be too busy giving me the stink eye anyway. I’m still not her favorite after I offered the mannequin a hit of my cigarette and accidentally dropped ash on the outfit.” He recalled the memory fondly—as well as the look on Trish’s face as Nancy scanned the stained skirt and she thought up a fitting punishment for his secret recreational use, ditching school to do it, and overall recklessness at the only store that worked within their budget. Most boring week ever.

Annalise had grown uncomfortable—rightfully so—in the conversation she’d nosed her way into and failed to find an exit for until now. Huffing, the blonde crossed her arms, gaze sliding from one face to another as she assessed the amount of counselors that had amassed at the trail’s head. “Are we going to stand around all day,” Annie started, voice raised to address the group as a whole, “talking about how badly we need to find costumes, or actually do it?”

cast:
location:
hallow's trail

tags:
hugo, & liberty lostbird lostbird , levi, & juliette anyasjoy anyasjoy , nicolas, & connie minajesty minajesty , joey, & lou spareparts spareparts , annie lvcid lvcid , clarisse AI10100 AI10100 , riley mi casa mi casa , kayden evermoon evermoon , & featuring leilani sunshineysoul sunshineysoul
 
WILLAMINA

SHOPPING MONTAGE
E
asthallow’s perpetual fog lingered into the summer afternoon, and with the added cloud coverage, Liberty assumed rain would follow. Sliding out of her yellow cardigan and knotting the sleeves around the straps of her shoulder bag, she brushes blonde strands away from her face, resentful of Fairviews strange weather conditions and the residual humid atmosphere.

Willamina sat parked on the very edge of the main street and beside the grocery store and liquor shop, with several signs marketing itself as an ‘all purpose store’ rather than facing the truth—a thrift store, specialising in hand-me-downs and donations from Portland. Across the street hosted a variety of food options, a cafe with semi-decent coffee and baked goods, the singular Chinese restaurant in town that happened to be considered ‘fine dining’ as far as Easthallow’s standards went, and a burger joint that was more well known for its sandwiches than greasy buns.

Liberty failed to see the charm of Easthallow or why Jonathan Evergreen chose this town of all to set up his summer camp, but she supposed Fairview Lake was the selling point beyond the ghost town on its outskirts.

“Remember not to piss them off,” Liberty quips, eagerly striding towards Willamina in an earnest attempt to escape the persisting sticky heat. She wrenches the door open, stepping to the side for others to enter ahead of her. “Not in the mood for a lecture by the owners.” Even the mention of Willamina being a thrift store would earn even the locals a lifetime ban.

“Why’d we bring Nicky then?” Lou muttered his own quip, before shooting an amused glance at his friend. “Hiya Nance.” His voice steady, announcing their arrival politely before facing the direction of the tacky brownish gold-plated counters– painters tape hanging from the edges haphazardly. Now that he’d had a better look, the clutter of Willamina was consistent and nostalgic except it seemed to be under some newly, half-realized renovation effort.

“Actually, it’s Gwen,” a voice answered from behind the counter. Lou turned to see a brown-haired girl, her hair streaked with purple feathers, leaning casually over the counter. “Mom’s out.”

“Oh.” Lou blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t aware the stiff lady with crystal-studded, horn-rimmed glasses and the longest nails he’d ever seen had any other endeavors besides the store she so dutifully upkept for the last decade. Much less a daughter. He walked around a coat rack over-stacked with colorful, wide brimmed hats—barely evading a jutted floor-board with the hammer still hanging onto the nail, “Out to find a contractor?”

Gwen smacked her gum, leaning over the counter and flashing the group an inquisitive, yet slightly judgemental raised eyebrow–a look that seemed all too familiar to her mother, “Ha. No. Cabo. Honeymoon thing.” She turned her back to them, popping a pin between her lips and fixing some sort of silken fabric onto a dress form, “Careful, some of the paint’s still wet.”

“We’ll be careful.” Riley promised, passing by the counter to venture further into the store. Since when did Nance even have a kid? The thought comes and goes as she realizes that it wasn’t her business what kids the…eccentric store owner may or may not have. True to Gwen’s word Riley had to be careful walking by a freshly coated wall of paint– the job clearly haven been done without properly stripping the previous layer. I should have gone with the others to ‘Fancy That’, the brunette thinks, hands idly beginning to search through the nearest rack of clothes for anything that could potentially work for a costume. At least if she had gone to the other shop she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being around Levi. Then again if she had gone she would have had to deal with Annalise of all people and Riley believed that this was the lesser of the two evils.

Despite how worn down the place looked Riley had to admit that Willamina had a charm to it that she liked, even if she had to be wary of where she stepped to avoid stepping on a rusty nail and risking tetanus.

Lou’s quip elicited a humorous snort in response as Nicolas trailed behind Riley through the front door, simultaneously eager to get his hands on whatever he could work with on such short notice to build a costume. Cabo?, his conscious echoed in brief surprise, disbelieving the fact that Nancy could afford such a luxury even at the helm of Willamina—nobody could if you lived in Easthallow of all places, Nic always assumed.

The internal monologue came and went with a dismissive and lazy shrug, gratitude taking its place at the owner’s absence. Maybe Gwen won’t mind a little smoke n’ shop, right? “we’ll see,” he answered himself underneath his breath before Liberty’s stance as a door stopper came into view. It didn’t take a second thought for Nic’s next offer. “Here, I got it,” he chimed willingly, his default smile on display—again—as he moved to take her place.

Offering a small wave towards Gwen, manoeuvring fabric around a dress form, Liberty gratefully steps away from the door as Nicolas takes her position. “Thanks, Nic,” remembering his earlier remark about being cool—and she shifts inside, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at Levi and beckoning him inside with a subtle flick of her head, motioning towards the back of the thrift store where an array of couches and mirrors were set up.

Quickening his step to catch the door, Levi stifled the offended noise bubbling in his throat as Nicolas casually swooped in to assist Liberty instead. He coughed to the side, masking his irritation. Knight in shining fucking armor—what the fuck.

Passing through the now-held-open door, he shot Nicolas a sharp sideways glance, his gaze briefly dropping to the necklace hanging around the other’s neck. Something about it looked familiar. Filing the thought away for later, he trailed after Liberty, dipping his hands back into his pockets as he caught her encouraging nod to join her.

Seems familiar, that necklace, he silently thought, shaking his head to focus instead on the racks before him. Fingers brushed past clothing that failed to catch his eye, pointedly ignoring the scattered greetings from around the shop. “Soo,” Levi drawled out, fingers catching on plaid material, instinctively thinking this would be something Leon would own. What the fuck am I going to wear anyway? “Nicolas seems nice, I guess. Your friend?”

Alerted by the drawn out ‘Soo,’ Liberty is reminded of moments after the opening ceremony—Sooo, you and JC, huh?—and of breakfast only hours ago, the coffee he’d brewed alongside an apology and explanation—it was pretty messed up of me to get caught up in whatever’s going on between you two.

Keeping her face turned away, she wills herself not to feed into what might be a simple delusion on her end; he was a concerned friend, one that certainly should feel comfortable enough to share his opinions. It was irresponsible of her to hope otherwise. Unknowingly, her hand mimics his own—catching on the fabric of unwanted clothing, noting each one with growing disinterest.

“Met him five minutes before you, Levi.” Liberty responds with amusement lacing her voice, finally allowing her gaze to settle on him. Her eyes soften, not wanting him to feel belittled as she makes her stance on Hugo’s son clear. “Not convinced I’m his type,” and gestures with clear intent towards Lou—she was hardly blind to their reunion, the familiarity bordering towards fondness rather than simple nostalgia.

“Not wrong, though,” her nose wrinkles playfully, a sign of her distaste at the thought of entertaining any of the counsellor’s that aren’t him. “He’s nice.” Nice wasn’t enough to colour her eyes in a rose tint—half the time, it left her more suspicious than not. Ricky and Paige were the shining examples of how far being pleasant went in Liberty’s book.

Edging closer to the back wall and wincing as the scent of fresh paint overloads her senses, Liberty deviates to a circular rack and absently rifles through the options, her eyes sneaking a glance over at Levi—it was expected for him to be on edge considering and for that she couldn’t fault him, but a sinking worry settles in her abdomen.

“Think it’s worth even going tonight?” Truth or Dare was spearheaded by Renee, and part of Liberty’s lack of a typical planned costume came down to her assuming the tradition died along with the Evergreen.

Levi reluctantly met her gaze, unable to resist the pull in her demanding direction. Not in the doghouse, he realized, catching the amused glint in her eyes and the kindness in her tone, despite the fact that he knew he’d been—what, overbearing? We’re finally talking again. Don’t fuck this up.

Just as he was about to make a comment on why he’d been so on edge, Liberty’s continuation rendered him silent. A noise slipped from his lips as his gaze flicked to Lou, following her casual gesture. Nicolas and Lou? he mouthed back at her quietly, giving her a look that clearly read, what the fuck am I missing here with this Nic guy?

Not wrong, though. He’s nice. That made Levi pause, coming to the conclusion it wasn’t often he saw the camp’s crisis aid, well—around others. “You know, it is nice. Seeing you interacting,” he finally admitted, his voice quieter than usual as he was being sincere. Scolding himself internally, he turned away, pretending to focus on the racks as the faint scent of drying paint filled his senses.

He meant it—it was nice seeing Liberty talking to others. He was so used to seeing her sitting alone with a book in hand or observing a crowd from a distance, much like himself.

Liberty’s half-smile settles into place, seeing you interacting; hardly the first time she’d heard those words—preferring the company of paperback books and worn pages sounded the alarms during grade school, remembering the tense conversation with her parents that followed, assurances she wasn’t being excluded or bullied. She simply liked herself and the written word more than socialising.

As she closed the distance, Levi moved beside her, both of them scanning the shared rack. Strands of hair tickled his forehead as he shook his head. “Nope,” he popped the 'p,' mentally trying to piece together an outfit as he fumbled through the clothing on the hangers. “Definitely not—” not with Lisa missing, he wanted to add, but the words never left his mouth. Instead, he turned to her with a grin that was smaller than usual, a little less carefree than his usual lopsided smile. “Drinks always make Truth or Dare worth it, in the end. Any costume ideas?”

Was afraid of that, Liberty subtly smacks her lips together, muffling the sound by scraping the coathangers around the rack in a show of mounting frustration—nothing interesting. Levi and drinking were synonymous, and she was hard-pressed to judge given the track record of his summers. His small grin lessened her anxiety a fraction, relaxing the pinch between her brows she hadn’t realised formed.

“Last year was an impressive lineup,” she surprised herself by indulging in the cup of vodka, invariably nestled between Renee and Paige; directly in the firing line of their pent up issues. Her eyes brighten as a memory floats by, seizing it as she steps away from the rack left with nothing to offer. “But it was no Galliano.”

Liberty tracks down the ramp positioned directly behind Levi, into the ‘den’ filled with mismatched clothing and props lacking a place to belong elsewhere in the store. Surveying the array of fabric lining the walls and boxes of overflowing articles shoved beneath, she’s almost overwhelmed. “Mm, nothing. Didn’t see the point in preparing a one-off costume—” she throws him a glance, since they’re gone, and follows up with a resigned sigh, deciding to start from the corner. “Worst comes to worst, I’m sure one of the girls has fake blood or glitter somewhere.”

With a teasing thought, she looks at him over her shoulder, “you could show up as yourself and claim you’re Kurt Cobain, or Sting. Low effort. Believable.”

He met her glance easily, but it didn’t last long. His lips tugged downwards into a half frown, hidden from her view as he turned his attention back to the clothing rack. They’re gone—Lisa and the others. So why the hell are we still here?

This morning hadn’t helped—Leon, Thomas’ grating laugh, the strained talk with Rowan. Levi wanted to say something to Liberty, to spill at least part of it, knowing she’d understand in her own way. But the words died on his tongue, stuck in his throat. Don’t wanna bring her mood down, either.

Instead, he shoved the rising frustration back down, replacing it with a detached, almost practiced calm. He glanced over at her, offering a small smile. Maybe later. Not now. Right now, it was easier to take a page out of Leon’s book and let the feelings drown in something stronger.

You could show up as yourself and claim you’re Kurt Cobain, or Sting. “Can’t do that—wouldn’t give them justice, even with my low effort ass.”

Willamina’s options were limited, and even still, Liberty found herself wanting to make some personal purchases as she rifles through each coat hanger. At Levi’s dismissal of her suggestion, she rolls her eyes, unsure how to tell him you already do them justice without broaching unspoken territory.

Levi sifted half-heartedly through the racks of mismatched clothing, the faint smell of fabric and dust mingling in the air. He wasn’t particularly hopeful—coming up with ideas for a costume wasn’t really his thing. His fingers brushed over a few items before spotting something tucked towards the back of the rack, the elastic straps of a pair of angel wings barely hanging on by a thread. Bingo.

With a careful pull, he freed the wing, holding them up triumphantly as he turned to Liberty. A self-satisfied grin tugged at his lips. “Found my costume. I’m ‘bout ready,” he declared, already piecing the look together in his head. Wings, a pair of jeans, and a white tank top? Easy. Simple. Nothing that screamed he was trying too hard. Not my style.

Inspecting the wings’ condition, he ran a thumb over the worn edges, giving a low whistle. “And it’s on sale,” he added, pointing to the bright orange sticker on the tag, sealing the deal. With a quick shrug, he held them up to his back, smirking. “Think I could pull it off?”

Liberty nods appreciatively of the golden wings, shimmering under the dim glow of the chandelier, and breaks into a grin as he brings them to rest between his shoulder-blades. “Mmm, an angel might be pushing your luck,” her head tilts playfully as she abandons her post by the racks to meet him. Her fingers pinch the corner of the wings and angles them, making a show of consideration.

A memory flashes through her mind of an art piece by Guercino, depicting Saint Francis overcome with emotion as an angel sits on a bed of clouds, playing music with golden wings and a head of dark hair. Okay, Liberty, she scolds herself for the comparison of Levi to a work of art, wishing for a second her Nonno Lorenzo hadn’t insisted on evolving her tastes in history to include art, slow down.

“Yeah. You’ll look good.” An understatement she was unwilling to elaborate on.

Her eyes, chasing the shimmer, catch on a second pair of golden wings looped around a dress in the depths of the rack behind him. Slow down, slow down, slow down, Liberty nods at the garment with slight amusement and hesitation at the thought of matching with him. Camp Evergreen was notorious for pressing weight onto ‘couples costumes’, known to cause more than a few hiccups with the developed relationships. “Think it suits me, too?”

Glancing at what caught her eye, Levi felt himself go warm at the indicator of what matching a costume would mean, traditional for couples during Truth or Dare, nervous that he’d have to hear Liberty tossing out comments from left and right—we’re just friends, nothing more.

Think it suits me, too? Yeah. You’ll look good. “Hmm, dunno.” He brought a hand to rub against his chin in regard to the pair of wings. His hand dropped lazily, reaching for the dress with the golden wings still attached to the hanger. Without a word, he carefully unwrapped the elastic and handed them to Liberty, it’ll suit her more than me.

The thought of them matching wasn’t lost on him—sparking an unexpected thrill he wasn’t entirely ready to unpack, reminding himself to slow the fuck down, idiot. Still, he played it cool, holding out the wings towards her with a raise of his brows.

“I think a demonstration is in order,” Levi said, voice light with amusement. He repeated what he had done a couple of minutes ago with his own pair, resting them against his back in a tilt direction. His nod was encouraging, hoping she caught on what he was asking of her.

Liberty’s laugh is laced with mirth as she accepts the wings, manoeuvring her arms through the elastic loops until they’re situated over her white t-shirt. She pivots her body, mirroring his posture and peering over her shoulder to catch his expression. “Well? Should we ditch the halo’s and find a pair of horns?”

A coil of longing twists within, dazed Levi was entertaining matching costumes—her eyes softened for a brief second, quickly abandoning the position to seize the dress from his grasp and holding it up to her chest as a distraction. It was shorter than what she felt comfortable wearing out in the woods, but charming enough to ignore the chill she was bound to suffer from.

“Might entertain drinking tonight to stay warm,” she shakes her head, pulling a face at the reminder of last summer's collection. “Leon’s taste is acquired.”

“Damn.” The word slipped out before Levi could stop it, and he immediately scolded himself mentally—what happened to taking it slow? His jaw tightened for a moment before he quickly scrambled to recover. “I mean—I was right. You do look better in it,” he corrected hastily, his smile softening at the edges as he tried to appear genuine. Despite the unfortunate start to his day, he felt his mood lift slightly, her presence working wonders in a way he knew she was capable of—it wasn’t the first time, and he expected it wouldn’t be the last either.

Should we ditch the halos and go find a pair of horns instead? He exhaled a quiet laugh meant just for her. “Feeling a little devilish, huh?” He shot her a lopsided grin, his dimples deepening as he added, “I’m game.”

Levi lingered where he stood, his gaze naturally drawn to her as she held the golden fabric of the dress against her chest. The way she seemed to glow in the moment made his stomach flip unexpectedly. Realizing he was staring, he quickly averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck—focusing on the rack of various outfits nearby.

Now…what the hell am I going to grab for Elodie and Rowan?

Moving down to the other side of the rack, his fingers idly grazed the hanging outfits as Liberty's voice carried over to him—the mention of her drinking last summer catching his attention. He turned his head slightly, flashing her a questioning glance, did she drink at the gathering last summer?

“Tell me about it. It’s shit,” he agreed, hating the way the corners of his lips twitched up in amusement as a memory surfaced—Leon’s infamous concoctions. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how he still had taste buds, let alone survived some of the weirdest drink combinations he had made up.

“You think…” Levi trailed off, pushing aside the clothing that didn’t catch his attention “…Easthallow has some Galliano somewhere around?”

Feeling the apples of her cheek redden, Liberty blinks as he openly stares. Damn. Stop it, Liberty. There weren’t many ways to decipher the word, unless she was willing to allow herself to latch onto a dangling thread of belief; maybe he feels it, too. Now wasn’t the place or time to question him about it, so she mirrors Levi and turns away, draping the dress over her forearm decisively.

“Can think of a few questions I want to ask,” Liberty responds honestly, her tone flippant as her brow ticks with mild annoyance. Half the camp insisted on pretending last summer was merely an elephant in the room, not an omen for something more, or the very real possibility there was a murderer amongst them. She had no problem giving the not-so-friendly reminder hidden underneath a prying question.

Feeling his gaze on her, she glances over to catch the question in his eyes and shrugs, “I was seated between Paige and Renee, how could I not drink?” It might’ve been humorous being used as a human shield for the onslaught the eldest Evergreen unleashed on her sister, staring into the campfire as the two bickered back and forth over the top of her head, if it weren’t so irritating.

At the mention of Galliano, Liberty’s hands resume their search of the racks for appropriate cowboy attire for Marquis with the hint of a smile. He remembers. “Tipsy from decent liquor? Sounds fun.” Finding a pair of Wranglers in the correct size, she pulls the denim free and rests it over the dress. “We’ll take over the drink selection this year, give Leon a break to do… whatever Leon does, now.”

“It could be fun…maybe after we’re done here, we could stop by the liquor store,” Levi offered, purposefully brushing past the implied together in his words. His hand brushed against soft fabric, the vivid red catching his eye. What the fuck is this? he wondered, pulling the item off the rack. It looked like a blanket—or maybe a shawl? Hard to tell.

Don’t know what I’m looking at, but it’s red, and it looks warm—something Elodie could use outside of camp, maybe, he thought, a faint frown tugging at his lips.

Draping the mysterious piece of clothing over his arm, Levi found himself circling back to his earlier dilemma. He sighed, already feeling the growing weight of regret and annoyance in his chest. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew by offering to help Rowan. Should’ve just asked Connie to grab something for him,” he admitted, head tilting back to stare up at the ceiling, groaning out the rest of his words. “I’m shit out of luck when it comes to dressin’ up.”

She readily agreed to his offer to fetch liquor for the Sunspot, thrilled at the thought of decent drinks and finally, at last, getting a look at the other stores around Easthallow. Her knowledge of the town was limited to a stolen day of memories, orchestrated by none other than Jonathan Evergreen.

Placing a cowboy hat on top of her head for Marquis, pairing with the wings she kept strapped around her shoulders, she presses her mouth into her shoulder to muffle a misplaced laugh at a sudden intrusive thought. He’s out of luck now Paige isn’t around. “Help me find a belt buckle suitable for a cowboy and I’ll return the favour.”

Her head pivots as she speaks, and silences as Liberty raises a brow at the red fabric over Levi’s forearm. She could swear there was a squashed eye on it—her questioning eyes lifted to his, “are you attempting to sabotage someone?”

Caught off guard by the sight of the hat perched on Liberty’s head, Levi’s stomach twisted. He forced himself to look away, jaw tightening as a low grumble escaped under his breath. It’s 1999 all over again, and I know it’s too late.

“Deal,” he answered instead, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, an almost convincing attempt at a smile, as Liberty’s gaze flicked his way. For a moment, he wondered fleetingly who she was picking an outfit for—but just as quickly, he shut it down. Don’t know. Don’t care.

At her questioning, Levi didn’t have to force anything this time. A huff of a laugh, more of a snort, escaped him as he shook his head, shaggy strands tickling his forehead. “I, uh, bumped into someone new this morning—after the whole…” he gestured vaguely at the empty air between them, trusting Liberty would catch his drift.

“Unfortunate for her, with my mood,” he added with a wince, his thoughts flashing back to the interaction. “Thought it’d be...nice.” His words were uncharacteristically hesitant. Levi wasn’t one to gossip or pry into people’s lives, but for some reason, he felt he had to over explain himself to her, a quiet nagging in the back of his mind urging him to clarify, not wanting a misunderstanding where she thought he was interested in the newbie. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

“I think…” he trailed off, sneaking a glance around the store to double check they weren’t being listened to. “I think she’s homeless.”

Liberty stilled for only a moment at the mention of a ‘her’, only to shake herself from misplaced jealousy. It wasn’t her place, never was, to entertain thoughts of losing him—not when that ship sailed in 2000, and she was forced to contend with it being her own damn fault.

At the hesitance in his voice as explained himself, her brows furrowed with slight concern, turning away from the task at hand to regard him. She heard that exact tone when he’d sat across from her in med-bay with his arms crossed and a restless bouncing leg. What if they don’t take it seriously?

Feeling rather silly for being caught up by the what-if, Liberty abandons the racks after retrieving a single strip of leather—a belt without a much needed buckle—and joins him, warmed by the generosity he was showing to the newcomer given his rough morning. “Camp will turn her life around, there’s a lot ten thousand can buy you,” she kept her voice hushed, the same tone he insisted on, sweeping her eyes over the red material that could easily be used as a blanket—“you’re sweet for thinking of her.”

Her eyes focus beyond the squished costume, settling on another piece of fabric resembling a burnt orange in the unmistakable shape of Scooby-Doo. She bends down to snatch up the onesie, holding the material out for Levi with the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, “think Rowan would hold this against you?”

His gaze flickered to her movement as she joined him by his side, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips, though it felt more like a reflex than genuine comfort. Camp will turn her life around. Levi swallowed, his eyes darting away to look elsewhere. I tried to convince her to leave because of Lisa. “...Yeah,” Levi mumbled, more at himself than Liberty. “Hope these two weeks go smoothly—and fast.”

Her compliment didn’t go unnoticed, even if he barely managed a tight-lipped smile in response. He shifted his focus back to the task at hand, the hunt for an outfit for Rowan— the last thing missing, and hoping to head back soon for dinner—bummed about Truth or Dare but looking towards the drinking aspect of the game.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed her moving down, bending to retrieve similar clothing. Facing her, his hand fell to his side as he adjusted the bundle of clothes he was already holding. Liberty held out the material for him to see, locking on right away to the few dark patches of circles on the clothing, realization settling in—“Well, tough shit if so. It beats what I had in mind for him.” Which was nothing. Levi reached out to take the clothing she held out, offering her a flicker of gratitude in his expression. “Thanks, Libby.”

Thanks, Libby. Pointedly, she looks away, choosing to focus on where belt buckles or bed sheets would be, anything to fight the blush threatening to colour her cheeks. “Always, Jackson,” she manages to respond with her eyes trained on the stand beside the steps that led them into the den area, noticing hints of silver and gold tucked away.

His eyes drifted to the dress in her hands again, the sparkling gold catching the light in a way that seemed to glow against the strands of her hair, and a thought circled its way back to mind.

“We’re gonna freeze our asses off tonight.”

Lifting the dress draped over her arms and dropping them helplessly to rest against her abdomen, she shrugs with a single-shoulder, forcing the shimmering wing to press into her hair. “Cons of being the best dressed, mmm?” It was a half-joke, knowing their costumes were low effort in how many elements there would be—her eyes drift back to settle on him, Levi would pull it off. As always.

“They’ll hate to see us coming,” he quipped back just as easily. His eyes shifted from the dress to meet hers, her bright gaze sparkling with amusement. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a soft, golden glow around her, wrapping her in warmth and light.

It tugged at something deep within him, pulling him back to a morning in the music shed. Levi remembered waking up against the couch on the ground, groggy and disoriented, only to find her asleep nearby, bathed in the same golden light. Back then, just like now, she had that effortless way of looking...pretty, as always.

A laugh bubbles from her lips, gesturing to the onesies in his grasp before she treks over to the stand of silver and gold, “seems like they’ve got the better deal. Too late to swap?” Her fingers seize each belt buckle—finally—until she finds two contenders.

At her gesture, Levi reluctantly tore his gaze away, glancing down at the outfits in his grasp. He made a face, lifting a brow in her direction. “Too late. And fuck that,” he muttered, his tone laced with dry humor. “Doubt this’ll fit me anyway. No way they’ve got my size.”

His attention flicked to the items in her hands, curiosity briefly softening his features as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

A silver one cast into a rectangular shape, depicting a bulls head framed by a loop of rope. The second was gold, a single horseshoe in the center with the words rodeo champion outlining the bottom. “Which one for Marquis’ cowboy outfit?” She holds out both options for Levi, each in the palms of her hands.

Ugh, Marquis. Levi deserved an award for keeping his expression neutral, picture perfect of unbothered. He shifted his weight to one side, his free hand slipping into his pocket to fiddle absentmindedly with his keychain. A low hum escaped him as his eyes darted between the two belts she held out, thoughtfully weighing his options—what’s going to make him look fucking stupid?

The horseshoe belt matched the aesthetic, but the sheer comedy of Marquis strutting into Truth or Dare with ‘rodeo champion’ emblazoned across his waist was too good to pass up. Levi snorted as he gestured with his chin, pointing to the belt in her right hand. “That’ll be perfect.”

Liberty doesn’t care to question his taste, returning the bull headed buckle to the stand—in her opinion, the western era was the least interesting time in history. “If you’re sure.” From the sounds of his amused snort, she knew an ulterior motive lingered just beneath his confirmation, and chalked it up to a twisted sense of payback for the stunt during dinner. He can stop paying for it after tonight, she decides, tightening the grip on the buckle and tossing her head in the direction of Nicolas, Lou, and Riley.

“Should we…?” Her focus lands on a rack of bedding just beyond Lou, eyes brightening. “Need to grab something for Alton over there, anyway.”

“Let’s get this over with.”


Once the last of the small group passed the opened door, Nic shifted his weight off the frame and let it slowly drift closed, abandoning his post to venture further in. Willamina stood similar to how it looked the last time he had visited, save for the overwhelming stench of paint fumes that stifled the usual cottonball aroma. Welcomingly, however, he had grown nose blind the deeper he strolled through an empty aisle with the same unwavering curiosity he always seemed to harbor for Easthallow’s “hidden gem”.

“niceeeee,” he drawled under his breath, his heavy boots emanating an audible thump as Nic abruptly stopped to admire a 2002 Slipknot Iowa tee—each member depicted with a deep saffron warmth against a charcoal black. Too bad I already have one: After abandoning the shirt on the rack, the next hand-me-downs that caught the Burns’ attention was a table cluttered to the brim of toys and other knick-knacks.

Nah. His continued to rake over the assortment of goods spread out across a cheap tablecloth cover as he searched for his next source of entertainment—a bright, red Etch-A-Sketch first on the chopping block. Next, and suspended by a thin strand of white rope, Nic picked up a small mallet and tapped it against each panel of the multicolored xylophone—soft, gentle chimes of different frequencies ringing from the toy and echoing throughout the otherwise quiet store.

“Nope.” he enunciated the exaggerated pop of the ‘P’ before turning to join Lou and Riley where they stood quietly sifting through racks. But during his stride toward his childhood friend and fellow counselor, Nic caught a look at Liberty and Levi toward the back with the same determination on their faces—her more than him, by the looks of it. “so, what’s the deal with this ‘costume get-together’?” Nic inquired, the annoyance that clouded his focus when Hugo was around replaced with curiosity in his absence.

Folding his arms across the metal rail of the nearest rack, Nic rested his chin on top before he looked toward his company and picked up where he left off. Blondie didn’t say much before we left but— “is it some kind of hazing shit for the newbies? Ya’know… minus the kidnapping and degredation.”

Lou's fingers brushed the frayed edge of waistband, the slight starchy fabric. He lingered there, tracing the worn tag that read ‘36’. Close enough. He could cinch it tighter, make it fit with the right belt, maybe. His eyes lifted, wandering through the racks until black hooks clinging to the walls came into view. A riot of colors intertwined, belts skinny and wide–something in that clusterfuck had to work. If not, he’d just have to settle for the one already on his waistband. The ‘costume’ would be half-assed either way.

Army guy? Sure, yeah.

He felt the stirring of something, his gaze moving past the rack where Nic stood—chin low, otiose with his words. “Kidnapping and degredation”; An image of Nic and himself walking in the woods with just the right amount of cinematic silence when a group of masked counselors come out of nowhere just to beat them up, take their cigarettes and booze. He wanted to laugh.

“Never been. But it wouldn’t be much uv’a hazin’ without any of that,” Lou drawled back with a half-smirk. His eyes drifted to the brunette, "What's it like, Riley? We in for one or what?"

I have no idea what I’m even looking for. Riley continued to browse through the rack, the sound of metal scratching metal echoing as she passed up item after item. Brown eyes drifted away from the clothes, settling on the two other counselors. The corners of her lips quirked upwards, “If I say yes would you two chicken out?” Honestly, she wouldn’t even blame them if they did. The reminder of what a shit show Truth or Dare had been last year was still ever present in her mind.

Looking back towards the aisle of clothes Riley shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly it’s just a bunch of us getting shit faced, asking dumb questions, and doing stupid shit.” In retrospect the night should be a fun endeavor, and typically it would be if people learned what lines they shouldn’t cross but that was simply asking too much for a group of people drunk out of their minds and high off of adrenaline. This year might go better without Renee and Paige, actually…

Reaching the end of her current rack the brunette turned away from it, eyes landing on the shirt Lou held in his hand before tossing the blonde a curious look. “You picked something already?”

Free booze? ‘Stupid shit’? Beaming, Nic’s gaze slid away from Riley as he leaned off the metal rack and rose to his full height. “Sounds like my kinda hazing”, he quipped, before redirecting his attention back to Lou. The reminder of why the group had come to Willamina prompted him to finally search for his own attire despite having to juggle ideas on the spot. And a fleeting glance in the direction of his friendly counterparts made him wonder if Lou and Riley, as well as Liberty and Levi, were left to do the same.

In fact, a lot of them came. He recounted the size of the group set to leave camp earlier and nodded. A lot.

Nic absentminedly began to thumb through a rack of more graphic t-shirts until the light fabric transitioned into the weighted material of heavy coats and jackets. Simultaneously, he found himself fighting a losing battle over whether or not it’d be worth the extra prying. But, then he found himself having to swallow the laugh that threatened to bubble to the surface at his transient attempt to start minding his own business. It’s always worth it, he playfully reprimanded before lifting his head. “wonder why half the fuckin’ camp had to tag along for the trip…,” decidedly testing the waters with a nonchalant tone, Nic picked up a black leather jacket and examined it against his chest to cushion his nosiness under the facade of a clueless newbie.

“This uh, get-together, sounds kinda like a longstanding tradition. If it were me—” in other words, why aren’t you? “—I’d pack somethin’ with me on the first day so I’m not fightin’ for crumbs.”

Riley turns away at Nicolas’ words. I can’t tell if he’s questioning our choices, or just trying to make conversation. She didn’t have a response at first because, frankly, it was unheard of for this many people to forget to bring an outfit for Truth or Dare, herself included. She was usually the type of person to be all over this, planning out what she wanted to wear weeks in advance and going the extra mile to make it look as good as possible but this year a costume– actually the night in general, had been the last thing on the brunette’s mind. Honestly, it surprised her how little she cared about something that typically would bring her more excitement.

She began to brush through another rake of clothes, this one more compacted than the last and forcing her to use more strength to actually browse through the clothing. “I think most of us didn’t expect there to be a Truth or Dare night this year.” Riley states, voice taking on a tone more blunt than was probably necessary for the situation. Still can’t believe that Leon thinks it's a good idea after what happened to Lisa. Maybe he had his reasons for wanting the tradition to continue but it looked to be in bad faith regardless of whatever good intentions he may have behind it. “But I’m personally not going to be turning down free alcohol, so.” Shrugging, she left it at that instead deciding that her focus should be on actually finding a costume if she even wanted to be in attendance.

Eventually the brunette felt her hand brush against something that felt like latex. Upon further inspection she pulled out what appeared to be a white dress. It flared at the hips, had a slit that ran up the side, and looked like it would hang off of her shoulders. What was this even made for? There was a plastic bag that hung around the neck of the hanger that she pulled back to get a look inside. A pair of white gloves and what appeared to be a nurse’s hat stared back at her. Oh it’s one of those old fashioned nurse costumes. A quick glance at the tag showed that it was her size, and it would save her time looking for anything else.

Not really my style though…

But for fifteen bucks she couldn’t beat how convenient it was to have everything laid out for her already. Wasn’t like she was in the mood to go all out for her costume this year anyway. Whatever, it’s not a big deal anyway.

Now all Riley had to find was a pair of shoes to go along with it.

“Second that.” Lou nodded a bit absentmindedly, though in agreement. $3. Not bad for vintage army pants. Condition’s alright… No holes.. Spending money on clothes had never been an interest of his. He liked the clothes he already had. Wore them out ‘til they fell apart. And though he liked looking at old stuff as much as the next guy, it was different story buying things he didn’t need just ‘cause they looked cool. Though there was a short amount of time in high school he’d tried to experiment, he just wasn’t all that interested anymore. Growing up on a farm in the middle of nowhere to moving in with an old man who was fine wearing the same white shirt and blue jeans every day didn’t provide him with much inspiration to crave more than the necessary. A look at his savings account would be there to remind him how much of a blessing it was that he hadn’t ever been the frivolous type.

Even though he’d much rather have spent the loose change on another pack or a bottle, he figured he…might wear them again. And at the very least they weren’t the flashy, gaudy sort of camouflage.

The hands that had only caressed the camouflage fabric for the length of their conversation finally took the bait and Lou slung the pair over his shoulders—weaving his way around the racks to check out.

‘I think most of us didn’t expect there to be a Truth or Dare night this year.’ Why? The responses Riley sparingly offered only raised more questions that Nicolas wanted answered to as he set the jacket back down on the rack. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that the Evergreen sisters had the camp blanketed in a mixture of emotions after their disappearing act, but the survivalist could hardly find the compassion in him to understand what the fuss was still about after a year.

People go missing everyday. Nic paid as much attention to the news as much as the average passerby despite his father being close with the family. He wasn’t close to Hugo, so whoever he let his gruff exterior falter for didn’t cross Nicolas’ mind any more than the day he bothered to learn their names. The only logical explanation he could muster up?:

Easthallow just needed a story. A sleepy town could hardly be called such when its name stayed attached to a recurring headline, and what better stars of the show than the daughters of a CEO who did a “service” with a camp he built in the middle of nowhere.

Despite feeling a bit sorry for the Paige when he first received the news, Nicolas’ sympathy card had slowly dwindled when it became evident that they weren’t coming home. Those girls are bear chow by now, he shook his head at the obvious before Lou’s voice pulled him off his train of thought. Second that. “shotgunning a beer does sound goodddd…” he drawled in half-hearted tune, stopping his search after his attention landed on a cotton tee with The Crow printed on its front. Perfect.

Lou’s footsteps came to a halt, the thought hitting him like a wave recalling his conversation with Mona by the boulders. Oh right…

If he bought the pants, he’d be dressing up—directly against their plan to show up with nothing but their drinks of choice. He glanced over at the small rack of women’s pants, hoping for something to jump out at him. Army girl? Lou immediately dismissed the idea. Bad. And we’d be matching. The exact opposite of the plan.

The thought of just skipping his new found costume idea hovered for a moment as he traversed into the women’s side of the store. But standing there now, fingers tracing the edges of mismatched hangers, the buzz of chatter from everyone on their walk up to Easthallow creeped up on him. Walking out completely empty-handed now would just feel like a waste of time. His attention flickered toward Riley, who was lost in her own search by the shoe racks. She looked awfully determined.

Maybe Mona did want to dress up after all. Girls usually liked that stuff, he reasoned. Sure, Mona had strongly stated otherwise, considering today’s events, but maybe it still did a little. She always had some fun story to tell from the first Sunspot night, even when she pretended she didn’t care much for it—Lou could tell when she did have some fun and didn’t wanna show it. And if she did care for it, even a little, a good effort from him was necessary. She deserved something more thoughtful than his low-effort cop-out.

As the pants dwindled down the rack, skirts took their place—a rather small selection of them. He sifted through them absently until one caught his eye: a wool, pleated, thigh-length skirt that stood out in quality against the rest. Its hanger angled nearly perpendicular to the others, like it was almost chosen but left behind at the last minute. He freed it from the steel clamps, studying the burgundy fabric. Hmm.. He imagined her in it—sarcastic with a spin to show it off to him. She’d look cute in this, brushing over the fabric with his thumb. The thought struck him funny, ‘Cute?’. Suddenly, he felt creepy wavering for any longer in the skirt section. With an awkward glance around, he grabbed the skirt and walked over to the blouses. What’s it for? Some cheerleader? He grimaced, No way she’d want that.

Riley. Maybe he could ask her what Mona might like? Mona liked a lot of stuff. Teddy grahams, for instance, though that didn’t really help his cause. She liked a lot of things, but not cherries and definitely not english peas. And she loved Uno—and Clue, but good luck trying to win if you’re playing pairs without her. She thought everything horror themed was lame, but the right balance of mystery and thriller had her glued to her bedside table’s low-dimmed lamp until she passed out.

Mona loved frogs. And dogs, too. He remembered a Scooby-Doo crewneck he’d lent her back in high school—never got it back, but never asked for it back either. He mused the nostalgic memory of the clumsy TV dog. Mona had always loved Scooby-Doo. He’d liked it too, as much as the next kid, but Mona was obsessed.

One night, she’d been so sick she could barely speak, so they stayed up watching back-to-back reruns on Cartoon Network. When those ended, Lou popped in the old VHS tapes, and they ate ice cream and watched those until they drifted off. All she wanted to do was watch the next episode and after a few, Lou figured he wanted the same. The next day, he was so damn sick that all he could do was sleep. He smiled at the thought, his fingers idle across the long-sleeve shirts on the rack. Then his hand paused.

An orange turtledneck, practically jumping out at him. With the red-pleated skirt draped over his arm, the costume formed itself. He took the turtleneck off the hanger. She’ll get a kick out of this, he thought.


Dress and jeans lay folded over Liberty's forearm and absently twirling the belt buckle looped around her finger as she manoeuvres through the haphazardly placed racks to rejoin the others, she waits a beat, not wanting to interrupt the possible flow of conversation, and smirks at the row of mannequin heads; one specifically sporting an apostolnik. “Come to think of it, I failed to notice whether Mona brought a costume,” she pinches the fabric of the cloth veil between two fingers, surprised to find the quality felt slightly too real. “Dressing as a nun would be quite ironic.”

Liberty could hardly fault Mona for her standpoint, but watching the camp's resident skeptic play pretend as a believer when her everyday clothing was as bland as one could achieve felt oddly fitting. “You two should figure one out for her,” she tosses the idea at Lou and Riley, shifting the clothing from one forearm to another as she crouches down to her ankles, pulling open the plastic display drawers in search of a bedsheet not layered in years of dust.

Dressing as a nun would be quite ironic. Riley didn’t refrain from rolling her eyes at Liberty’s joke despite the way the corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly. “Haha, very fun Lib.” she retorted, looking the blonde over to see what she had decided on. At the mention of Mona’s costume Riley tilted her head, throwing a look in Lou’s general direction. He ran off after her earlier, she probably asked him to grab her something. “I’m sure Lou picked something out for her already.” If Mona even decided to join the rest of them tonight. Riley wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, not after hearing about Lisa.

Walking over to a shoe rack Riley went in search for a pair of white shoes to go with her costume. “What are you going as anyway?” she tossed the question in the air for Liberty after not being able to pinpoint what her friend had decided on based just off of the clothes she was carrying. Spotting a pair of white heels on the top rack Riley reached up to grab them. Heels seemed like a silly idea but these one’s had a thick heel so she wouldn’t break her ankle walking in them. Tossing them around in her hand for a few moments before deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to give them a shot– no one was going to analyze her outfit as much as she was anyway. “I found a nurse costume in one of these racks, not what I’d usually go for but-” she threw a casual shrug the blonde’s way as if to say- Who really cares?

Liberty slightly turns her back, brandishing the wings still firmly clasped around her shoulders—the golden feathers were laced with metallic paint, reflecting the matching coloured lighting of Willamina in a comforting shine—and shrugs them, angling her body towards the racks. “An angel, I suppose. Not much to choose from,” her eyes flick over the array of limited choices, not for the first time feeling dismayed at the expectation to dress up for a playground game. “Not that I particularly want to take my chances at Fancy That! and come out dressed as some damsel clad in tinsel.”

With a snort, she observes the white garment in Riley’s arms and assumes the horror fanatic intended to turn the dress into a macabre version befitting a nurse. “Let’s hope the others have the foresight to snatch some glitter for me and fake blood for you,” Liberty’s hand moves to touch the latex material, nodding approvingly, “at least it won’t stain.”

Riley let out a small hum of approval as she looked over the metallic wings Liberty sported. “An angel is nice. It’s a classic at the very least.” And like the blonde said there wasn’t much to pick from in here anyway. The mention of Fancy That! and the words that followed made the brunette laugh. “You a damsel?” she couldn’t imagine Liberty as that, not when she was so headstrong and opinionated. “You’d be a pretty knight though.” Breaking the gender role expected of them? That Riley could picture.

The mention of blood caused her to look down at the dress slung over her forearm. “I don’t know. Thinking of forgoing the horror element this year.” she admitted keeping her tone casual. “I do it every year, anyway. It’s good to change things up sometimes.” Her words from the previous Truth or Dare night aimed at Renee seemed to almost slap her in the face as she spoke. Was she as uncreative as her if she did something horror related every year? Ugh, can I not think about the dead right now.

You’d be a pretty knight though. Liberty rolls her eyes, accompanied by a half-smile at a stray memory from 2000’s Truth or Dare; her first foray into the ‘tradition’ Camp Evergreen prided itself on, a subtle attempt to settle into the crisis-aid position more permanently. “Worst decision I ever made was the Joan of Arc costume rendition. Corsets and chainmail? Lesson learned.”

Spending the night with a lack of oxygen and movement was a rude awakening as Renee tore through the counsellors, cherry picking her victims with the spin of a bottle rather than taking turns as the latter years now demanded. “Though, maybe not the worst decision,” Renee pricking her finger on the chainmail covering her metal corset—literally poking fun at the ensemble—left Liberty holding back her amusement as Renee sucked on her finger to numb the pinch of pain throughout the night, unhelped by the squeeze of her chest as she struggled to breathe in the tight constraint.

“Change is good,” Liberty naturally agrees—there was much to learn from history, only possible through change—and turns to the nearest rack, running a hand over the clothing articles with casual interest as a thought comes to mind. “Horror is always an option for next summer… speaking of, are you returning?” The Evergreen sisters’ disappearance was one thing, but another missing girl—she glanced over to gauge the reaction of the brunette, curious if she found it worth risking another summer.

Riley huffs out a quiet laugh at the remembrance of Liberty’s first ever costume at Evergreen. “You did look a little uncomfortable in that thing.” the brunette agrees, swinging the shoes she had in her hand idly back and forth, moving to lean against a rack now that she was officially done collecting the items that she needed. “But you also looked good so a win’s a win.”

–are you returning? Riley instinctively glanced away at the question. It was innocent enough– it was completely innocent actually, she just hadn’t expected to be answering it so soon into the session. Shaking her head Riley looked back towards Liberty, a small smile lifting the lips. “Yeah I think I’ll pass on another summer of questionable life choices and oxygen deprivation, thanks. I’ve done my time.” she kept her tone light, even cracking a joke about Liberty’s previous struggle as she spoke.

The realist watched the blonde with an easy but final sort of certainty. She’d already made her choice ages ago. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this place. Have since I was thirteen but I’m graduating next summer and I don’t think I want to spend my first year post-grad wrangling kids. I think I’d rather have a job where my biggest headache is someone asking me to do over time when I already told them no before.” Riley had to move on. Evergreen camp would always hold a special place in her heart for being her silver lining during a difficult point in her life but Riley knew she needed to move on. She couldn’t keep coming back to this place like it was a toxic ex.

“What about you?” Her expression softened just slightly. “I can’t imagine you sticking around after you graduate.”

At Riley’s compliment for the Joan of Arc costume, Liberty lifted both shoulders only to drop them—a gesture that humbly said, what can I say, and focused on the sudden shift in the realists’ demeanour on the subject of next summer no longer being in the cards. It was a fair response, a responsible choice—Liberty struggled to understand how seasoned counsellors continued to put up with this place past their mid-twenties and still felt indebted enough to Camp Evergreen to ride out the uncomfortable waves of Evergreen mood swings.

Absently wondering about how to force Leon into retirement, the question being thrown back almost startles her—truthfully, Liberty spent months in between summers’ convincing herself to let go and focus on studying. Money she felt her parents were owed could be earned through a successful career instead of a two-week course of scrutinising elite children and reporting their often mundane complaints, and yet—her eyes trail towards Levi, and leaving feels like an impossibility. I’m not repeating that mistake.

“Hard to say no to a quick ten-thousand,” she declares instead with her trademark half-smile, gesturing towards the wings on her back with a flick of her eyes. “Impulse purchases there’s no reason to feel guilty for? And—no Evergreens to worry about anymore?” Liberty speaks bluntly, knowing her dislike for Renee and Paige was hardly newsworthy. “Depends how this summer goes, really.”

“Tell me about it.” Riley agreed with Liberty’s reasoning almost instantly, shaking her head. Ten thousand was nothing to scoff at– especially when you were a college student just trying to make it to graduation. Her tuition might have been taken care of by the will her mother left behind for her but her daily expenses were something Riley wanted to take care of on her own– hating the idea of feeling like she owed anyone back for helping her. “Who knows maybe you’ll stick around here as long as Hugo has.” she couldn’t help but to make a joke at the groundskeeper's expense, knowing that if he heard the most he would do was grunt in her direction.

Liberty’s expression morphs into a pity, throwing it towards Riley at the thought of poor Hugo, indebted to a camp he was unable to find reprieve from. “Rip my contract up if you ever see me living on the grounds of Fairview Lake,” she huffs a laugh, closely resembling a scoff and turns her attention pointedly to the rack before her. “End my suffering.”


Just as Levi started towards the front of the store, he hesitated by another clothing rack, shooting a narrowed glare in Nicolas’s direction before shifting to the opposite end. He made a show of flipping through the jackets, starting from the far side. Who doesn’t like leather jackets? He tried to reason with himself, pushing aside the ones that didn’t catch his eye. Doesn’t mean we have the same taste.

As he flipped through the jackets, Levi’s gaze lifted, settling on Liberty as she spoke with Lou and Riley. He glanced back down quickly, shaking his head in an attempt to suppress the smile tugging at his lips from the nun comment.

“You still looking for something for Alton?” he asked instead, keeping his tone casual. At the same time, he subtly side-eyed the Burns’ counselor whenever he edged closer to the middle of the rack.

“Mhm,” Liberty confirms, refusing to dwell on her decision to be charitable towards Alton after his colourful words only seemed to pile up. She doubted his intent would be to make amends anytime soon, not after being thrust into the spotlight as public enemy number one following Renee's stunt. “A white sheet and scissors are his grand plan, and you think you're low effort?” She throws Levi a mirthful smirk, tugging an off-white coloured sheet free from the drawer, this will do.

“At least he’s cutting holes in the sheet—wouldn’t have bothered, to be honest.” Levi arched a brow at her, catching the smirk dancing on her lips which caused him to let out a playful eye roll in response, the corners of his own mouth threatening to lift.

Standing to her full height, she glances at the leather jacket he's rifling through and follows the flick of his eyes at the other end of the rack—not slick at all, Levi—and joins him, lowering her tone conspiratorially. “Are you maxed out on friends, Jackson? Is that what I should be assuming from your oh-so-lovely attitude?”

Nudging his hip with her own, a playful attempt to reassure him how far she is from judging. Liberty was possibly one of the few at camp in full understanding of people-aversion, opting for civility instead. She flips through the options with him, pushing the hangers into his hands and stopping to pull one out every so often that fits his size, only for her hands to freeze on two familiar outfits—her lips part with a slow smile, looking over to him.

Levi’s hand instinctively shot out, catching Liberty’s elbow from the nudge—preventing him from, god forbid, knocking into Nicolas. “I’m standing next to him, aren’t I?” He turned to face the newcomer, shaggy hair following in suit, and gestured at him with a sharp nod. “We cool?” Before Nicolas could answer, he pivoted just as quickly back to Liberty with a shrug. “See? We’re cool.” Besides, he thought, eyes drifting back to the rack, I’m currently missing one.

Huh?—oh shit—“Yeah, man! We’re co—!” Though blatantly cut-off, Nicolas beamed from behind Levi’s head now, blissfully unaware of the insincerity leaking from his dismissive nature as Nic turned his attention on Lou and Riley to share the excitement with. Holy shit, I called it!, his expression read, momentarily forgetting about his need for a costume before he found himself thumbing through the racks for a coat resembling Eric Draven’s.

That’s how we’re measuring friendship now? Liberty asks pointedly with her eyes, keeping her mouth shut for the sake of Nicolas’ closeness. She drops the subject and pats the hand gripping onto her elbow, have it your way.

He watched her sift through the clothing rack, shaking his head now and then whenever she pulled out something resembling his build—his soured mood already softening. It was always easy with her. Adjusting the weight of the clothes he planned to pay for, he paused when she suddenly froze. Turning to face him, eyes alight with something—only to realize—

With a grin, Levi leaned against the rack’s pole, doing his best Keanu Reeves impression. “What are you tryin’ to tell me?” He smacked his lips, surveying the store before flicking his gaze back down to her, his eyes bright in amusement. “That I can dodge bullets?”

Her nose scrunches at his acting, highly amused by how on point Levi managed to nail the impression. Willing herself not to ruin the moment by laughing, she takes a measured step back to outstretch her arm, forming her hand into a makeshift gun and forces a deadpan expression. “Dodge this.”

The moment lasts only seconds before she caves, the arm responsible for housing the costumes she'd gathered rising to cover the stretch of her grin as she laughs before plucking the set in her size off the rack decisively. “There's a reason I never joined the plays,” not being able to take it or herself seriously enough, “saving the wings for next time. Unless you think Trinity is hiding them beneath her coat?”

Amused—and maybe a little too charmed by how pretty she looked under the store’s soft glow—Levi let out a full, hearty chuckle at the finger gun pointed his way. The line delivery? Spot on. “Amazing choice, for the quote. Nice one, Fallon.” His words were honest—he always was—but there was a new warmth in his voice, humor laced with something softer. Cool it? Relax.

At the mention of her not being part of the camp's annual plays for a reason, he shook his head quickly in response. “You would’ve kicked ass, and you know it. Since when do you do shit half-assed?”

Saving the wings for next time. Reaching for said wings that were wrapped around her, he gave a dimpled smirk, gently wiggling the feathered tip. “Should keep ’em for next time. I’ll pay—they suit you.”

Liberty gives up on shielding her feelings from what-if's, the subsiding giggles a perfect excuse for the stretch of her smile—his offer to pay for the wings reviving an old memory in a different store, stealing the day for themselves, and responsible for the opal studs in her ears she rarely took out.

He barely had time to appreciate the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed a coat off the hanger—because when he went to do the same, another hand reached out at the exact same time.

Though he shouldn’t have taken the brief attention spared for him as an invitation to inch closer into Levi’s space, Nicolas couldn’t help but feel welcomed to, driven by the sheer difference in the counselor’s attitude in comparison from the beginning. Next, a swell of pride had Nic standing a little straighter in remembrance of Hugo’s earlier warning:

‘The kids are ruthless here’ Yeah, right. A quiet, and bitter scoff to himself escaped Nicolas’ lips as he absentmindedly continued to flip through pre-loved leather jackets, unbeknownst that he had begun to encroach despite being absent in Liberty and Levi’s conversation. That ol’ geezer just doesn’t want me to have any fu—what the—

Relinquished from the recollections involving his father that tended to annoy him quickly, the Burns’ gaze flicked down to his hand pinned by another, and as his eyes traveled up the arm it was attached to, he found Levi. As always, Nicolas beamed. “Holding my hand now? Jeez, Levi, way to make a guy swoon.” he quipped as he moved to pull away. Except, the leather coat was still firmly tucked into his palm. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Huh? Levi almost yanked his hand away—but he held firm, fingers tightening around the worn leather of the coat. He pointedly ignored the fact that, in the struggle, he was basically holding hands with—

“What are you doing?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay calm even as his brows furrowed. Nicolas tugged, trying to pull the coat closer towards his direction. He retaliated immediately, yanking it back with equal stubbornness. Lifting a brow, his mouth twisted to the side, unamused. “Finders keepers.”

Pulled closer to Levi’s form in response to the yank, Nicolas’ dug his boot into the floor of Willamina in a haste attempt to maintain some distance. Jesus—he blinked, locking eyes with the counselor before the skin at the corners crinkled in amusement. “‘Finders keepers?’” he echoed back in a laugh, tugging the coat back toward his body with the same tender approach he had used at the start.

“Then that means I get the jacket,” decidedly playing along with what he assumed was an attempt at a joke, his smile softened. “You were looking at Liberty the whole time!”

Levi let out a dry laugh—sharp, a little grating, is he serious? His fingers curled possessively over the leather, half tempted to snap, Man, I just hit her with a movie quote, back off?—but he swallowed the remark down, knowing it’ll only prove Burns’ point. Instead, he rolled his eyes, slow and exaggerated, before giving the coat another tug—gentle, but firm.

“We both reached for it, actually,” he bit out, his gaze narrowing as he caught the hint of a smile playing on Nicolas’ lips—oh, he’s serious. As a heart attack, he finally concluded.

Realizing this was going nowhere, Levi huffed, mind scrambling for a quick win. His eyes darted around before he gestured sharply towards a leather jacket nearby. “Why not a jacket instead?” he threw out. Then, with a scoff, “the fuck you dressing up as, anyway?”

Nic feigned an offended gasp, his hold on the leather jacket slightly giving away. “Eric Draven does not wear jackets, Levi. Have you not seen the movie?” with an expectant expression, Burns’ searched for any sign of realization—hoping that would lead to him freeing the coat. “1994? The Crow??” But even if the film was familiar to the other counselor, Nic didn’t feel Levi’s grip loosen. He’s not being serious. Is he…?

“You can wear the jacket.” Motioning toward the leather display donned on a mannequin, Nicolas pulled back—a firmness used this time to get the message across that it was his to buy while trying to maintain the lighthearted “banter” between them. “Finders Keepers, right? That bad boy is calling your name!”

“Eric Draven? The Crow? Dude—” Levi shook his head, patience wearing fucking thin as his grip tightened. We’re gonna rip this coat, fuck. “Keanu fucking Reeves doesn’t do jackets,” he snapped. “Their whole aesthetic is a goddamn coat.” With his free hand, he jabbed a finger towards the familiar leather in Liberty’s grasp, her expression reading mildly amused by the commotion. “Plus, I’m matching.” He arched a brow, tugging once more. “Let go.”

Clutching her own leather coat, Liberty's lips press into a line to keep the threat of laughter at bay. Are these two serious? Tempted to offer forgoing the coats altogether and pulling off the Matrix costumes with the glasses alone, she instead folds an arm around the bundle of clothing and rests her weight on one hip, amused by the show. One more minute.

Letting her shoes hang from her fingers, Riley’s brows furrowed in annoyance. What is their problem? No way were they seriously fighting over a jacket. They were literally in a thrift store, this was basically the central hub for clothing like this! She tossed a look in Liberty’s direction, surprised to see that she seemed to be enjoying watching the two scruff it out rather than behave like the adults they supposedly were. At least someone is enjoying it I guess. Whatever, it wasn’t like they were actively hurting each other.

At what he assumed was a distraction, he reluctantly followed Nicolas’ gesture with a fleeting glance before rolling his eyes back to meet the dark haired counselor—only to pause. Dangling from Nicolas’ neck was a necklace he definitely recognized, wait…is that—?

“Dude, no. I need this co—!”

His grip instinctively tightened, and without thinking, he gave a sharper pull, trying to get a closer look—only to not realize how much frustration had accidentally seeped into the pull until it was too late. The sudden force of them both yanking sent Levi stumbling backwards, knocking him slightly off balance—while Nicolas crashed straight into the rack. Fuck my life. “Good job.”

Levi’s sudden and last yank had sent the world off-kilter, propelling Nic forward as his breath hitched in his throat and his body smashed against the unforgiving metal rack. “Jesus-fucking-christ…,” he wheezed through gritted teeth, the jarring rattle of metal against flooring echoing in his ears as a cascade of hangers came down with him. A sharp sting bloomed across Burns’ chest and stomach, the shock of it momentarily stealing the air from his lungs as hands braced against the floor to push himself up.

But, with the last of the energy still left in his body, he only managed to roll onto his back and slowly sit up. Not actually cool…got it, the defeated realization dawned on him momentarily before flares of annoyance quickly replaced the disappointment. “Fine.” the counselor turned to look up where Levi stood over him, and for the first time since he got there, with the smile wiped clean off his face. “You can have the goddamn jacket.”

For once, seeing the ever present smile wiped from Nicolas’ face, Levi felt a pang of guilt crawl under his skin, uncomfortable and nagging. His own lips, pressed into a thin line, twitched at the corner, threatening to drop into a frown. Shit. This was a huge accident.

“I thought—” His voice faltered, hesitation in his throat as his gaze flickered down, I thought I saw Paige’s necklace.

Lou held the parcel in a brown paper bag Gwen had handed to him, pulling off from the front counter just in time to witness his two friends trash a section of coats. What the hell is wrong with those two?

If it wasn’t for the fact that Nicolas seemed genuinely upset and hurt at crashing into the metal rack Riley may have snorted at the sight. Honestly, what had they expected? Seemed like a case of them fucking around and finding out to her. Maybe it’ll teach them to not fight over something like preschoolers.

Liberty doesn't gasp or find herself surprised by the result of their ongoing scuffle as Nicolas toppled into the rack, landing unceremoniously amidst a mess of leather and coat hangers. Good job. She gently, but purposefully, shoves an elbow into the small of Levi's back and shoots him a look—fix it, Jackson—and glances towards where Gwen has abandoned her mannequin, mouth agape.

“Sorry about that! We'll clean this up.” The History Buff crouches down to her ankles, using one hand to shuffle the coat hangers into a pile, only to pause on a white printed receipt—she gathers it up, and moves to discard it in the trash can beside the counter until her curious eyes sweep over the details, seeing the billing recipient is for one Hal Philips, and Lisa’s name is signed off below the subtotal.

I guess I’ll help too. Even though Riley thought that the job should have been delegated to Nic and Levi– Levi specifically for how much force he had unnecessarily used towards the end. I wonder what made him start acting like that… A small pang of guilt settled in the brunette’s stomach as she bent down to help Liberty clean up the mess. A year ago she would have just been able to ask Levi why he was acting so weird towards Nic, instead they felt like strangers now and Riley knew that whatever was bothering the man wasn’t her business to inquire about. Things would be a lot simpler if we had just never dated.

“What’s that?” Pulling herself away from her own thoughts Riley looked at the receipt that Liberty seemed to be holding on to for longer than normal for something that looked like it was trash.

Slowly, Liberty twists around in Riley’s direction, eyes still scanning the words for discrepancies—am I reading this correctly? Ironically, the paper felt as hefty as the bottle she’d discovered, not even close to the weightlessness she’d expect from a printed receipt. At a loss, the history buff holds her find out for Riley to read herself, “... probably nothing, most likely something.”

As Riley’s eyes tracked the receipt, Liberty’s brows pinched for a brief second and looked over the realists’ shoulder in the direction of Levi—they weren’t speaking, a fact not necessarily surprising as her own breakup some years ago left her reluctant to engage in conversation, but it was helped by the natural distance of their differing degrees. Levi and Riley were sharing the camp, sharing the space of Willamina, but decidedly shared no interest in casual conversation. Was it that bad?

The unease on Liberty’s face caused Riley’s brow to furrow in concern. Why did her mood change so fast? A look at the receipt she held out for her to read quickly became the answer. Riley scooted closer to get a better look, eyes scanning over the piece of paper with a look of disbelief by the irony of what the blonde had discovered. This would show up right after we learn about Lisa. The real question though was why was the receipt here? “It must have been in the pockets of one of the coats that fell over.” The realist deducts, tongue sticking out to wet her bottom lip as it suddenly felt very dry. Despite the simple, and most realistic, solution, the feeling of unease didn’t leave her body.

Her hands gripped around the jacket she held tightly, teeth biting the inside of her cheek as she reread the receipt for what felt like the fourth time. “I have no idea who Hal Phillips is.” she admits, looking away from the oddly placed piece of paper to stare at the historian with pinched lips. Sitting back on her heels she began to rack her head to see if she could place a face to the name. She had been coming to camp since she was a teenager, that meant that she had seen a lot of people over the years but that specific name didn’t ring any bells– not even a small one. After a few moments of silence she spoke again, voice much quieter, “What do you think it means?” Who was Hal and why had he bought something for Lisa?

Liberty spares a thought for the items listed—a coat, and a jar of paintbrushes—and observes the pile lining the floor in a heap, a mix of fur and velvet fabrics appearing almost deceivingly as carpet, and she wonders if the purchased coat was still here, or if the receipt was stuffed inside one of the pockets. An afterthought, or intentional?

Mulling over both possibilities, she struggles to fit the facts to a theory—why would the coat still be here? If it wasn’t, then why would the receipt be discarded in one of the pockets? By Lisa, the farmer with far too great a deal of consideration for the environment to litter instead of recycle, or by Hal Philips? Liberty’s stomach sinks to the floor alongside the mess of jackets, Levi should know. But, she was reluctant to show him the receipt alone, the last thing he needs is to come to his own conclusions.

The silence felt defining as Riley waited for an answer that Liberty didn’t seem to have. She didn’t have one either despite being friends with the farmer and that made the brunette feel like a shit friend. There has to be an explanation for this. Lisa was too smart to take gifts from someone she didn’t know, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have littered which meant that Hal must have been someone Lisa potentially knew and he must have been the one to leave the receipt behind, but why?

“Let me check something,” Liberty mumbles to Riley, gesturing with her eyes to Gwen—an open invitation to join her—and side steps over the coats, hoping Levi and Nicolas could make nice for the time being. This was a chance to confirm the discarding of the receipt as either intentional, or an afterthought, and then we’ll go from there.

Riley followed the history buff’s eyes over to Gwen, her head nodding in understanding as she moved to stand, I want to know too.

Approaching a haughty seeming Gwen, Liberty clears her throat and carefully holds the receipt out, “do you remember selling these items, or who they were sold to?”

Raking a hand through her hair and staying mindful of the feathers, she bends at the waist to read the paper—only to shake her head, a casual shrug following. “Nine days ago? Huh, unlikely. Don’t know a Hal Philips, either—why?”

There goes that. Liberty is left with the impression Gwen doesn’t know much of anything—her eyes narrow, minding her tongue for the sake of Levi. Do you not flag potentially strange and creepy men offering to pay for a lone girl's items? Instead, she mimics the girls’ shrug. “Nevermind.”

Riley felt the desire to cross her arms over her chest as she listened to the conversation– irritation washing over her at Gwen’s unhelpfulness. Unfortunately for her the clothes she was carrying restricted her from doing that. Instead she stared at the woman with a flat glare, dark eyes looking over her, she could care less about this. That much was obvious. Riley bites back the urge to ask something sarcastic, the– Do you actually not remember, or do you just not care?, practically itching to fall off of the realist’s tongue but she holds back, knowing deep down despite her frustration that Gwen was just doing her job. Her mom typically ran the store anyway and of course she was on vacation and therefore no help.

Shifting on her feet Riley tossed Liberty a look, one that read, That was a bust. She moved to place her items against the counter, pushing the clothing she picked out towards the worker with a bit more attitude than was necessary. “I need to buy these.” she states, finally lifting her arms to cross over her chest. After a beat she spoke again, “Please.” hoping to limit any potential backlash from her abrasive tone.

After paying for her clothes Riley waited for Liberty before walking away. “I could ask Mona about it.” she lifts a brow in the blonde’s direction, deciding to judge her reaction before fully committing to the idea. Liberty and Mona barely got along on the best of days, and despised each other on the other days. Riley wasn’t confident that Lib would be willing to share her newfound secret with the skeptic. “If Lisa knew Hal then Mona might know who he is.” It was a shot in the dark but Mona and Lisa had practically been a bonded pair before the latter disappeared.

Liberty hesitates, half turned away from Gwen to wait patiently by as Riley purchased her find. Don’t tell Mona, sat on the tip of her tongue, a reflex reaction to stay ahead of her singular rival, only to fizzle out in a mix of guilt and resignation. “For the best,” probably, she wants to add with a roll of her eyes, and instead stares wistfully in the direction of the door—only to smile as she continues, “tell her to drop by Crisis-Aid if she recognises the name, we can call Officer Jones together.” And I’ll know, too.

Riley didn’t bother to hide her momentary surprise– eyebrows lifting towards her forehead at Liberty’s agreement. I honestly didn’t expect her to think that I should. The two of them alone in Crisis-aid though as Mona talked to Officer Jones seemed like a bad idea but that was Liberty’s job and she knew that Mona wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to get answers, maybe a shared goal will help them get along. I do not want to go a whole two weeks with these two bickering. “I’ll tell her later then.” she agrees, slinging her bag over her shoulders. “Should we go see if tweedle dee and tweedle dum have finished cleaning up?”


Gwen, who’d just finished fishing Lou’s change from the register, met him with a red face and grunted a curse under her breath before nearly tossing his coins off the counter as if it was his fault. He gathered the change while the once very bored looking counter girl rushed around to antagonize the three’s attempt at damage control. Really, it was just Liberty—who soon apologized profusely on behalf of the both of them. Nic was still on the floor, reeling from his crash.

Not needing to be told twice, Levi bent slightly at the hip, extending his hand for the other to take while his free hand raked through his unkempt hair, pushing back the shaggy strands.

“That…was uncool of me,” he admitted, voice lower, more measured. His gaze flickered to the toppled clothing rack, the scattered garments making him feel even more like an asshole—frown fully on display now. “Sorry.” A beat passed before he added, “Bygones be bygones?”

‘Bygones be bygones?’ Levi’s olive branch didn’t go unnoticed as Nic paused disentangling himself from the last sleeves of leather draped over his waist to look back up at the other counselor, eyebrows shooting upward in surprise. For real? Attention cautiously dropping to the extended hand, the survivalist looked for any insincerity in Levi’s tone—refusing to fall into another embarrassing trap—before he decided that there was nothing worth worrying about.

Please, just take the damn hand. Levi thought impatiently, regret tugging at his heartstrings as he took in the sight of Nicolas on the ground, the rack toppled over, clothes scattered everywhere. We made a fucking mess. A pause. I made a mess, why did a necklace spook me like that?

His dark eyes flicked back to Nicolas’ surprised expression, and he gave his outstretched hand a firm shake, as if to say, yeah, for real. Get up now.

He said he’s sorry, Nicolas recounted as he finally took the hand and jumped to his feet, briefly looking down to ensure that he wasn’t stepping on any clothes that fell over before releasing him. “Bygones be bygones,” the offer expelled any annoyance the Burns’ felt as he raised his eyes to look at Levi, a quip ready to absolve any remnants of awkward tension between them, “Wouldn’t be the first time I fell on my ass anyway.”

At last, a hand latched onto his, and with little effort, Levi pulled him up, releasing his grip the moment Nicolas settled. Wouldn’t be the first time I fell on my ass anyway. “Yeah, well, didn’t mean to add on to the statistics. Thought I—”

"Alright, I’ll be outside when you’re done playin’ cops and robbers." Lou snickered, already flipping open the box of Marlboros. Nancy's daughter glared at his amusement, her irritation nowhere near contained yet. He tossed a courteous nod her way before seeing himself out, the door chime ringing softly as the door shut behind him.

And he’s gone. Levi gave out a half-hearted wave in Lou’s direction, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes upwards in mild amusement. Don’t blame him for ditching—we’re a fucking riot.

At the sound of Lou’s voice drifting further away, followed by the bell chime signaling his exit, Nicolas only smirked before he started smoothing the dust off his clothes and fixing the pendants of his necklaces that had spun around to the nape of his neck.

“Keanu Reeves is a bad-ass idea though. You and your girlfriend are going to kill it.” while the small-talk was absentminded, there was truth to Nic’s words. Being an avid fan of leather himself, there was no way to deny that Levi and Liberty had the demeanor to pull off the ‘untouchable assassins’ look. “Dammit, these fuckin’ chains won’t—” fiddling with the golden necklace wrapped around a silver one, Nic used both hands to unwind it from its imprisonment, the back of the pendant briefly exposed, before he finally got it untangled. “Finally.”

Levi, despite himself, found that he was actually enjoying the moment with Nicolas—the Keanu comment even managing to crack a small smile through his dismissive demeanor, and—wait, girlfriend? He immediately stiffened, his gaze flickering past the Burns’ shoulder until it locked onto Liberty’s familiar blonde hair. Do we look—are we even—what?

“...Thanks,” he said instead, his voice trailing off as he watched Nicolas fumble around with the chains. I should correct him. We aren’t—

Clearing his throat, Levi took a guarded step back, the familiar walls beginning to rebuild around himself. “But—”

Receipt in hand and with nothing new learned other than venturing the slip of paper to the Easthallow residents of their group, Liberty grinds to a halt as she overhears, you and your girlfriend are going to kill it. A wicked hope slams into her, leaving her stunned in her vindication—someone else was seeing… whatever it was they were dancing around, and that quiet relief morphs into anxiety as she glances at Levi, mentally readying herself for his denial.

Walking beside Liberty, Riley threw the blonde a confused look as she suddenly came to a halt. you and your girlfriend are going to kill it. Is Nic talking about her and Levi? Riley isn’t sure what emotion emerges in her brain at the statement– surprise? Disbelief? Thank god there was no feeling of jealousy– That ship has long passed. She nudged the historian with her elbow, brow lifting. “You good?” she asked, noticing the way Liberty hadn’t moved since Nic’s words reached them. I guess it’s not my business what goes on between them. I’d be a hypocrite if I expected her to tell me. Her past year with Leon made that more than clear.

“But—” A flash of blonde hair crept back into view, and Levi reacted on instinct. Hastily forcing out his words, he momentarily caught sight of Liberty heading in their direction. Fuck.

“What’s with this, by the way?” he continued, his hand moving automatically to flick at the opal necklace wrapped around Nicolas’ neck—the same one he was adjusting with not long ago. Now that he wasn’t preoccupied with manhandling over a coat, he could see it clearly; definitely Paige’s necklace. “Seems a bit out of place,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You know, aesthetic and all.”

“Just found it at my cabin.” Nic hadn’t noticed an uncomfortability settling on Levi after his couple assumption, but an amused smile quirked at the swift motion that caused the pendant to rattle against his chest. “For something that probably fell outta a quarter machine though, it’s been givin’ me lots of attention.” Seems a bit out of place. You know, aesthetic and all. Maybe I should take it off when we get back. The survivalist mulled over the thought after Levi had been the second person to bring up the necklace. Hugo’s opinion hardly mattered to him—someone of his father’s age understood nothing of fashion—but having someone else bring it to his attention made him wonder if there was some truth to the questioning.

Trish’d probably like it, he considered his mother’s reaction to receiving it after the session before looking up to the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. When Liberty came into view again, Riley in tow next to her, Nic smiled softer and side-stepped out of their way. “How much trouble did we get ‘ya into with Gwen?”

He doesn’t know, that was Levi’s first thought. Man has no clue he’s parading around wearing a missing girl’s necklace. His mind flickered to Rowan—how he’d react if he ever found out, let alone saw that piece of jewelry wrapped around Nicolas’ throat. Yeah, a heads up was probably the right call.

It’s been getting me a lot of attention though—who else noticed? Shaking the thought away, Levi slipped his hands into his pockets, fingers curling around his keychain out of habit. “You should return it,” he said quietly. “Back where you found it at the cabin. Or hand it to the lost and found, at least.”

He couldn’t predict how things would go if he mentioned Paige by name—or if Rowan caught wind, period. But one thing was certain: it would stir up drama, and that would all fall onto Leon in the end. “Wouldn’t have to be your problem to deal with, believe me.”

You good? “Mhm, I am,” Liberty easily recovers, helped by Levi not defaulting to an outright denial—though, it wouldn’t have put her at odds with him. An unfortunate fact, she kindly reminded herself as Levi became distracted by the necklace hanging from Nic’s neck, we aren’t together.

In the dark about the details of Riley and Levi’s breakup—a question she’d rather not entertain on the floor of Willamina, in the midst of a mess of their own making—she nods reassuringly at Riley, smoothly pushing down the peppering of her mind’s false hope to amend her earlier reminder with subject to change, and not together yet. Time and place. And, besides—Paige’s necklace?

Approaching the duo, more apprehensive than originally planned, Liberty returns Nic’s smile and extends the arm holding onto the receipt, “not much trouble, thankfully. Do you know anyone by the name of Hal Philips, by chance?” Her finger taps on where the name is listed, the paper pinched between two fingers, wondering if he’d catch onto the significance even though he’d skipped orientation.

Puzzled by Levi’s forewarning as he awaited a response from the girls, the burnout’s eyebrows knitted together at its potential meaning as he threw a brief gaze back in the other’s direction. Problem? “Why would it be a—” …Hal Phillips, by chance? Other than the crinkling sound of paper advancing in on him, Nic couldn’t explain why the unfamiliar name successfully interrupted an inquiry he wanted answers to. But it had.

“Um…” the answer ‘no’ had already been made to fall from his lips, yet Nicolas still pinpointed the signature scratched onto the receipt as if the visual would spark a recognition. But, just as he expected, there was none. Paint brushes and a coat? His attention drifted from Hal’s name to an even more unfamiliar one, intrusive thought at the ready: Sugar daddy? No— “Sorry.” With a shake of his head, he tore his gaze away from the receipt and looked at Liberty, who now posed the same question for Levi.

Her eyes slid over to Levi, angling the question towards him, too—if Lisa knew him, it was likely the closest people to her might recognise the name as well as Easthallow’s residents.

Tearing his gaze away from Nicolas—but not before giving him a pointed stare that all but said, consider what I just said—Levi caught Liberty’s questioning eyes on him. He quirked a brow in return before effortlessly sliding into place beside her, his gaze reluctantly dropping to the flimsy receipt in her hands. “What’s this?” he asked, mouth twisting to the side as if to hold off further prying questions.

His eyes skimmed over the receipt, scanning the writing until a name jumped out at him—Hal Phillips—and then—“...Is that Lisa’s signature?”

Liberty forgot how to form the word, yes, or to even settle on an innocuous response of, I think so, but any attempt to put Levi at ease would’ve fallen on deaf ears with the weight of their find. She settles on an affirming nod, keeping the receipt steady in her grasp as both Levi and Nicolas glanced over it once more.

Consider what I just said. But, why?? Levi’s pointed expression hadn’t gone unnoticed, but the conversation was, unfortunately, stalled when he recognized one of the names on the paper. Confusion replaced with sudden curiosity, Nic spared another look at the receipt Liberty still held before blatantly asking the first question that came to mind. “Who’s Lisa?”

At the sight of Lisa’s name, Levi’s fingers instinctively brushed over the wrinkled edges of the receipt, as if physical contact alone could bridge the gap and tell him where she was. His eyes locked onto the date. Nine days ago, last seen. Still a chance?

Who’s Lisa?—a friend, a best friend. “A missing counselor,” was all he said, his voice was clipped, leaving no room for further questions. Bending down, he grabbed the nearly forgotten coat before turning on his heel and leaving the group without another word, narrowly missing Riley as he passed, making a beeline for the front desk. Snagging a pair of black shades off the display, he muttered that he was no longer getting the feathered wings, casting his gaze downwards.

As he stood at the counter, waiting to be rung up, Levi’s thoughts churned over the receipt—paintbrushes and a coat? Who the fuck is Hal, Lisa? His fingers tapped anxiously against the wooden surface, the sudden need for fresh air clawed at him—along with the familiar itch for a cigarette between his fingers. Definitely need to reach out to Rowan about this…maybe even Connie.

Liberty’s arm falls to her side shortly after Levi’s retreat, forcing herself to not draw attention to the hurt more than likely warring within his mind by pointedly answering Nicolas’ question, eyes trained on the Burns. “Lisa Xander. She’s from Easthallow and has worked at the camp for five years—” A friend of Levi’s, swims on her tongue, but that wasn’t her business to spread, “she was declared missing as of this last week, announced this morning,” a shrug accompanies her words, not at all dismissive, but punctuating the mutual confusion no doubt brimming amongst the group.

She folds the receipt in half and carefully shoves it into her bag, tucking it safely inside where her notepad sits—a simple pad of cream paper with various phone numbers—and makes a mental note to call Officer Jones about it the next morning. “Easthallow and missing girls,” she muses aloud, tone dry, “becoming a pattern, isn’t it?”

Dwelling on Jonathan Evergreens’ reasonings of reopening only became more tenuous, a hopeless endeavour, because if he wasn’t willing to close the camp for his own daughters, then it made no difference how many counsellors might follow their treacherous path.

Instead of following shaky trains of thought, Liberty thins her mouth into an uncomfortable smile, “we should probably pay and head back now.” It was as good a reason as any to pull Levi away from lingering frustrations, to get the drinks for Truth or Dare and force him into distraction.

Absentmindedly: “yeah…” For a second time, Nicolas found that his grin corroded in response to figuring out who Lisa was, and—he pivoted his body slightly to throw a glance at Levi standing by the checkout—what she might’ve meant to them. It wasn’t a name he could recall in spite of, apparently, sharing Easthallow with her, but Nic couldn’t help the feeling of unease welling in his gut knowing there was another missing girl set to decorate wooden electricity poles in the wake of her disappearance.

Diverting his attention away from Gwen’s appointed position behind the counter to briefly look at Riley, the survivalist had to will away the wrinkles crinkling the skin of his forehead as another unusual feeling crept in. There was condolences in his throat at the ready, but a hard swallow suppressed it. She’s missing, idiot, not dead, he chastised himself, before letting out a sharp exhale through his nose.

For once, he wished his curiosity killed him before he got the chance to ask.

“Free booze really does sound good now.” a chuckle escaped, immensely dry and humorless to show that he was at a loss for words. Evident in the way his smile hadn’t returned once since Liberty’s explanation, all Nic could do was run a hand through his unkempt hair and nod his head toward the front door of Willamina. “i’m just gonna uh—get some air. You two go ahead” he attempted a smile, but it displayed as tight-lipped as he offered her and Riley a quick nod and turned to leave.

Head swimming with thoughts demanding to be laid out on a cork board, a stack of pins and loops of thread off to the side, Liberty mumbles a quick, I’ll see you back at camp to Riley and makes for the counter to pay for the items. Shrugging her arms free of the wings, she hesitates as she spots the matching pair Levi discarded—and snatches it up, paying for them both alongside her costume, picking up her own pair of black sunglasses to complete the Matrix fit.

“Thanks,” she comments sharply, annoyed still by the lack of help Gwen had been, store policy needs some updating, she thought rather unfairly as she strode towards the door Levi was waiting by.

“Liquor run?” Liberty offers, hoping her tight smile doesn’t betray the lingering unease of their discovery.

cast:
location:
willamina; thrift shop.

tags:
liberty fallon ( lostbird lostbird ), levi jackson ( anyasjoy anyasjoy ), nicolas burns (mina), lou van royen ( spareparts spareparts ), & riley kelson ( mi casa mi casa ).
 
fancy that!

shopping montage
"
All I’m saying is that if I were you I wouldn’t have gone back to a summer camp that two girls went missing from that’s all.”

Bonnie’s head tilts back in frustration as her mother’s nagging voice continues to drone on in her ear, white and pink streaked hair flowing with the movement and falling to the otherside of the bench she was currently resting on. She should have ended the call when she first heard her mom’s voice. Bonnie knew that she meant well but her constant criticism of her decisions and the way she chose to live her life were why they hardly talked nowadays in the first place! “You didn’t want me to come last year either even before Paige and Renee disappeared.” Bonnie points out, hand playing with the hem of her purple, plaid dress. I should have never answered the phone, she thinks. It wasn’t even her fault, her mom knew that Bonnie wouldn’t have answered if she saw her number so of course she hijacked her dad’s instead. “And you don’t even know if they’re really missing! For all anyone knows they might have just ran away and don’t want to be found…” It was a lackluster theory at best but Bonnie wanted to be optimistic that nothing bad had happened to her friends and that they were still out there somewhere.

“You can’t seriously be that naive, bunny.” She felt her cheeks begin to redden at the subtle insult, dark brown eyes staring down at the concrete as the weight of being scolded settled over her.

“I just want you to be safe. People suddenly disappearing into the woods of a camp is not something you should be-”

“Oh wait, what was that?” Bonnie began to create fake static noise to pretend like she was breaking up on her side of the line. “Sorry mom I can’t, breaking up, no service, bye!” Pressing the end call button Bonnie let out a loud sigh of relief. Thank god that was over.

Standing to her feet she fixes the strap of her bag, shoving her phone into it and hoping it didn’t distract her again before she grabbed the handle of her suitcase. I was on the phone with her for way too long, I need to get back to the bus stop. The only problem was that wherever Bonnie looked she couldn’t spot anything that looked familiar. She spun to the left and then spun to the right, platform wedges stomping against the ground as she glanced around in confusion and then in panic. Where the heck am I? How had she gotten this lost?! After her mother had called Bonnie had walked around, always feeling the need to pace when she felt anxious but she didn’t think she had wandered this far!

“What am I going to do?”
Connie felt the rest of her unease began to slip off her shoulders the moment the two groups had ventured farther from camp, and away from the haunting weight of its losses seemingly piling in numbers. Easthallow may have not been much to compare it to—the news of the disappearances well told in homes like an urban legend—, but it still offered a reprieve from the same daunting feelings she couldn’t escape. Especially when they all had to return to where the beginning of the end started.

So, humidity aside, perfect timing. Walking throughout a city she lived in brought a wave of comfort over her and the change in her demeanor was evident. Beginning from the lighter steps she took to the way her arms hung comfortably at her sides rather than tightly wound around her body in defense, Connie knew to appreciate what little peace the small town could give: unpredictable weather, scarce amount of shopping centers, and all it’s outdated glory.

“Hey,” she started finally, breaking free from her reverie to turn her attention on Kayden as they walked a leisurely stride toward Fancy That! with the rest of the group following or falling ahead at their own paces, “Thanks for tagging along, by the way. Again.” A quiet sigh escaped as guilt had begun to burrow in the pit of her stomach when she recalled asking—no, silently begging—her friend to help her find Rowan after his reaction to Lisa’s disappearance. A tight-lipped smile formed: You didn’t have to. But Kayden did, and she was grateful in spite of never seeing Bishop’s face again. Sports. He was teaching sports, the mantra returned for her own reassurance, courtesy of Leilani.

Kayden shrugs, matching Connie’s pace with ease. Much in the same way it had for her, Easthallow unfolding before them took some of the tension from his shoulders and set it alongside the trail back to camp. He’d have to pick it all up again when they came back, but it was nice to get a break. One day in, and somebody was missing? What a fucking time was unfolding.

He’d put the news of Lisa’s disappearance on a shelf in the back of his mind to focus on the rest of his day— trying to find Rowan, helping Ellie find her way, meeting everyone to walk to town— and he was determined to leave it there until they made it back to camp. Instead, he focused his attention on Connie beside him.

“Not a problem,” he replies. Despite the near deadpan of his voice, there’s a faint smile on the corner of his lips. “Wasn’t like I had something else to do, and I don’t have shit to wear tonight. I don’t think I’m getting out of Truth or Dare this year.”

She nodded at his response, understanding crossing over her features at the lack of preparation she had found herself in too. In hindsight, Connie didn’t expect for the session to return to business as usual when the new rules enforced by Jonathan had been made abundantly clear the second they all sat down at the amphitheater. And Truth or Dare was dedicated to swiftly breaking all of them. “Same here. I thought about just staying in for the night but—” It wasn’t safe to be alone, the unsettling notion was intrusive to her train of thought but, nonetheless, a truth that she couldn’t deny. “I’m just gonna find something for Leilani and I to wear.”

Aiming to contain the lighthearted mood blanketing the group, she gently nudged Kayden’s arm with her elbow before letting a smile pull at her features. “you got any ideas for a costume?” Connie asked, glancing briefly at him before setting her gaze on the costume shop finally coming to view. A fleeting look away, however, claimed her full attention as a head of familiar, and eccentric, hair stood out from the town’s traditional gloom. And now that the girl was standing and looking in both directions, Connie’s head tilted slightly as her current conversation began to fall on deaf ears.

Is that—? “Bonnie?” she questioned out loud, eyebrows knitted together in momentary confusion until her face and figure was easier to decipher. What are you doing here by yourself?

Kayden followed Connie’s gaze when she turned, seemingly distracted from their conversation. It wasn’t until she said Bonnie’s name that he recognized her; despite her brightly-colored hair, he hadn’t even considered they would run into anyone else from Evergreen in town.

Hearing her name called from behind her caused Bonnie to spin around, hair hitting her in the face from how fast she turned. Her eyes widened in excitement as she took in the group, relief flooding her body as she realized she was no longer alone, even better she knew these people! Oh my god I’m saved!

“Hi!” She lifted her hand into a wave. Grabbing the handle of her suitcase she dragged it along with her as she practically speed walked to join the group, smile bright. “What are you guys doing out here?” Bonnie knew that she was here because she’d gotten lost and missed the bus but what about the rest of them?

“Hey!” slowing her leisurely stroll into a firm halt as Bonnie closed the rest of their distance, Connie matched the gleam in the other girl’s smile, instantaneously softened by her cheery demeanor. What are you guys doing out here? Throwing a look behind her at Fancy That!, Connie responded: “We’re on our way to pick up costumes for Truth or Dare tonight.” Glancing down to the suitcase sitting by her feet, Connie suppressed a hard swallow.

And you’re…coming back…? A spark of jealousy suddenly welled in Connie’s chest at Bonnie’s obliviousness to the unfortunate truth waiting for her back at camp. But it was a fleeting notion. She’s going to figure it out regardless. There were few times where ignorance was bliss and, unfortunately for Bonnie, this wasn’t one of them. It didn’t make Lisa’s disappearance any easier to swallow or any less true, whether they were close or not.

In the midst of the brunette’s internal war, Joey’s amplified voice made their reverie return and offered a solution to Connie’s hesitance: But it won’t be from me, she decided and welcomed the sight of Joey and Bonnie crashing into one another in reunion.

Joey squinted into the distance, She'd barely realized Connie and Kayden walked so fast--too caught up in her chatter with the rest of the group. The arm that had been linked with Clarisse’s slipped free, and Joey instinctively placed both hands over her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun to get a better look.

“Oh my god. GUYS. THAT’S BONNIE!” Joey shouted, her voice carrying across the space with excitement–already starting to close the gap. There was no mistaking the thick-haired bleach blonde. "Bonnieroo!!"

It was easier to ignore Kayden’s prickling glares in her direction whenever Joey spoke, the hand on her arm pulling her attention completely. As if the world had decided that this would simply not be her day, her chaotic distraction of a friend slipped away to greet Bonnie— running forward to meet with her alongside Connie and Kayden.

So she came back too. Her eyes flickered to Annalise for a moment before heaving out a small sigh, covering it up as just a deep breath, before continuing to the shop. Maybe it was better for this time to be over sooner rather than later.

Annie’s gaze drifted easily from Bonnie—the My Little Pony wannabe that had replaced her in the days leading up to the Evergreens’ disappearances—as others eagerly greeted her to Clarisse at the feeling of eyes on her, but just as she was about to offer a smile, the taller girl glanced away suddenly with a sigh, causing the blonde to frown instead. Attention dropping to the ground, Annalise’s fingers instinctively lifted to fiddle with one of the small, golden studs adorning her earlobes—a gift from Clarisse, though she hadn’t stopped to consider their sentimentality until now. Once upon a time, the girls had been relatively close, and the brunette’s seemingly cold shoulder would’ve perplexed Annie if not for the realization that Renee had, in fact, told her something before her abrupt departure and she was too ashamed to associate with her in the aftermath. Annalise couldn’t blame her.

In an attempt to derail her train of thought before it spiraled to an even darker place, the blonde turned to Juliette at her side. “Did you not expect Truth or Dare to happen, either?” she asked. “I mean, with Renee gone, I assumed—” People would care more. “—there wouldn’t be anyone to put everything together. No offense to Leon, of course, I just never really thought it was his thing.”

Walking behind the crowd wasn’t exactly Juliette’s idea of fun, but it became bearable with Annie beside her—unfortunately. What a weird day this had turned out to be. She stayed quiet, her footsteps light as she focused on the murmur of idle conversations ahead, letting them fill the space between her thoughts.

The faint throbbing at her temples began to build when Connie’s voice cut through the otherwise calm air. Juliette’s face scrunched in irritation, her eyes flicking to catch Bonnie joining the group. Her bubbly tone offered some relief, momentarily easing her growing anxiety—until Connie and Kayden sauntered up, the girl with the streaks greeting Clarisse in return. Of course. Whatever.

Desperate for a distraction, she nearly thanked the blonde beside her—dragging her into a conversation.

Did you not expect Truth or Dare to happen, either? “No, I didn’t—I’m not...sure what Leon was thinking.” Juliette broke eye contact, her gaze falling to the ground as her mouth twisted to one side, out of Annie's view. She nibbled at her lower lip, “it’s always about the drinking with Truth or Dare, anyway,” she added bitterly. The resentment in her tone wasn’t aimed at Annalise but at the situation itself, once again wishing Leon handled it differently.

Her hand found her elbow, pulling it close as her fingers tapped against her arm in a rhythmic, absentminded beat. She mulled over her thoughts—should I be honest? A quick glance at Annie, then towards the crowd gathered ahead, solidified her decision. No. What’s the point?

She exhaled sharply, her voice low. “Might as well follow tradition. It’s gonna suck watching everyone act normal—I can’t do this sober.”

Annalise snorted, eyes rolling in solidarity with Juliette’s sour words. “You can say that again,” she agreed. “Last year was bad enough but this one will be…something.” She didn’t want to speak ill events into existence, especially not with everyone already so on edge, but the fate of the night seemed inevitable—all counselors in attendance would be set on drinking away their problems, looking for solace in the bottom of a beer can in the hopes that it would dull the anxiety building in their chests, if only for a few hours. With the way they’d be charading on with business as usual, they’d just as well dress up as themselves as they would whatever costumes the small town had to offer.

“Either way,” Annie continued, “we’ll get through it. Together.” The blonde’s hand itched to reach out to Juliette, to give her arm a reassuring squeeze, but she refrained, fingers twitching as if to shake off the instinct. Annalise sent the girl a timid smile—a weak effort to comfort her companion, to remind her that they were in the same boat—as a compromise.

“Can’t imagine what this year will bring,” she mumbled, her thoughts drifting back to how disastrously messy things had gotten towards the end of Truth or Dare last year. “It’ll be something to see, no less.”

People would no doubt be scrambling to come up with the coolest dares and the juiciest truths—she was certain of that. What she was most pondering about, though, was whether anyone would let it spiral to that point again. Messy.

We’ll get through it. Together. Juliette allowed the warm reassurance to settle over her for a moment, though doubt lingered in the tilt of her head as she cast a curious glance at the other blonde—will we? Not wanting to dwell on the thought and risk feeling even more alone by ruining the moment, she took one for the team. Reaching out, she briefly linked her arm once more with Annie’s, giving a gentle squeeze before letting go. Her faint smile returned as she echoed softly, “Together.”

It didn’t escape her—the irony of being here with someone as close as Joey, on friendly terms with Bonnie, yet finding common ground and a sense of sanctuary with a rival. Shifting her weight, Juliette broke the brief silence, gesturing towards the building. “Let’s head inside—it’s humid out here.”

The warm gesture startled Annalise, as if she hadn’t considered doing such a thing already. She hardly expected to see the sentiment reciprocated, however; grief had a funny way of bringing people together, exchanging long-held grudges with mutual mourning—a burden otherwise too heavy to bear. The longer Annie was within reach of camp, the more her guilt eased, replaced only by a growing pit in her stomach—before long, there wouldn’t be much left of her but a hollow shell.

There were those at camp who would say that Annalise wasn’t any better off now—her pretty exterior of blonde hair and designer clothes was all there was to be found; digging any deeper below the surface would be fruitless.

Their loss.

“No kidding,” Annie agreed. “My hair is so going to frizz soon.”

Bonnieroo!! Bonnie’s smile widened as Joey’s high energy voice traveled the small distance between them. It was easy to no longer feel anxious now that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her hand slipped away from her suitcase, willing to leave it unattended for a few moments since Connie and Kayden were close enough to ensure nothing bad happened to it. She opened her arms for a hug, voice picking up in pitch as Joey reached her. “Joeycat!” She wrapped her arms around the shorter brunette, spinning them around in an excited hug.

When she pulled away Bonnie’s bright eyes glanced at the others that had joined and she lifted her hand in another wave. “Hey Clarisse!!”

The call stopped her in her tracks and Clarisse turned to Bonnie. There were a lot of responses she could have made in that moment but all she could give back was more of a stiff nod than any proper greeting, not really wanting to let go of politeness but not willing to go too far to invite more conversation. The further she was from Bonnie, the better it would be for her blood pressure. With that, Clarisse moved to the front of the store and looked back to wait for them at the entrance.

As Bonnie and Joey crashed into each other, Kayden— now idling in place— shoved his hands back into his pockets and cut a sideways glance at Connie. Not judgemental, but contemplative. The energy around them was a far cry from that of this morning’s breakfast. For a moment, it felt like it could’ve been the start of 2001 again: counselors all but jumping for joy to see each other for another two weeks, a shopping trip to Easthallow, and somebody shouting.

Then again, you would’ve had to drag him by the collar of his shirt to go costume hunting last summer, so more had changed than the influx of missing girls.

His eyes still on Connie, Kayden raised an eyebrow in her direction and tilted his head towards the door to the shop. We waiting for them, or just going inside?

Meeting his gaze in time to catch the subtle gesture towards the shop’s entryway, Connie’s gaze flickered back down to Bonnie’s suitcase in front of them before landing on the girl now, deciding whether or not they should stick around for the few beats it would take for the hug to end and for the girls to rejoin.

I think we’re good to go now…, she tried to determine, but other pairs of footsteps growing closer caused Connie’s attention to avert and lock eyes with the last two girls from her past that she wanted to focus her energy on. Annie, someone she once thought highly of last year, now turned stranger in the blink of an eye. But Connie could at least stand to look at her, unlike Juliette—the brunette’s eyes rolled when the blonde came into her view. Finally, she turned her gaze to land on Kayden again before her mood could sour further.

“Yeah, let’s go.” she muttered, before pointedly heading for the door she caught Clarisse’s figure disappearing through.

With one last glance to his right, where Bonnie and Joey were still wrapped around each other, Kayden followed after her. The sudden drop in her mood didn’t go unnoticed, but he let it go unremarked upon as they stepped out of the street and into the store.

Once Connie and Kayden made their way over, Clarisse opened the door for them, holding it open for Connie before letting go of it for a brief second when it was Kayden’s turn, all for the sake of pettiness. Still, she didn’t look at whatever reaction he might have had as her gaze turned to the rest of the group. Be everything as it may, it would be rude to close the door on them.

“Thanks, Clare Bear.”

The childhood nickname slipped out faster than the blonde could realize what she was saying, but she didn’t linger long enough to watch recognition dawn on Clarisse’s face as she passed through the doorway—in fact, Annalise hastened her footsteps to ensure that she didn’t.

It was only a shame that Annalise wouldn’t have bore witness to the shock that crossed Clarisse’s face as she stared after her friend, catching sight of the familiar gift still adorning Annalise’s ears. A part of her wanted to chase after her, try to see if nothing had changed since the year before, but Renee’s words echoed in her mind. It rooted her feet to the floor, kept her standing at the door and shamefully having to let it all go. Maybe later I can ask about it.

Realizing that they were suddenly the last two remaining outside Bonnie pulled back from Joey, turning her head to offer Clarisse an apologetic smile as she saw the brunette still waiting for them by the door. Whoops, I totally got caught up in the moment there. It was just nice not being alone anymore. “Come on, let's go inside!” Bonnie had no clue why they were all here, or what they were shopping for but if it meant not having to figure out where to go on her own she was more than happy to tag along.

Bonnie grabbed the handle of her suitcase, dragging it along with her as she passed through the door, tossing Clarisse a quick, “Thanks!” as she walked by. After getting permission from one of the clerks at the counter the blonde left her bag near the front so that she wouldn’t have to roll it around with her throughout the store. Actually, why were they all at this store? It seemed strange to be searching for costumes in the middle of summer…Is there something I’m missing?

With a confused brow, she turned to face Clarisse again. “By the way, why are you guys all looking for costumes?”

Clarisse inclined her head once more in acknowledgment of the gratitude. It still felt nice to get that even if it came from Bonnie. Wow, that sounded pathetic. She idly thought to herself before closing the door once they were all inside. Stepping properly inside the establishment already made Clarisse squint, bright fluorescent lights certainly were a choice for this establishment. Still, she proceeded inside to follow Joey and Bonnie after she realized that she had completely lost sight of everyone else. Better to suffer with someone than no one at all.

While waiting for them to move on, she made a preliminary glance at the displayed costumes. There weren’t a lot that she liked off the bat but maybe there was a costume out there that would surprise her. Bonnie asking her something came as a surprise and she had to take a moment to process what exactly the question was, letting the silence between them settle as she did so. “Truth or Dare tonight. Tradition and all,” she responded without looking at her. She kept her tone as even as she could though still noticeably short and curt. No use fighting here. No use fighting at all. “Didn’t have any costumes on hand so…” She shrugged and gestured forward to the store.

Bonnie’s lips formed into a small ‘o’ shape at Clarisse’s words. That…made sense now that it had been said out loud. It almost made her feel silly for not putting two and two together in the first place. At least if they’re all here that means I wasn’t the only one to forget. She thought, nodding her head in the brunette’s direction. “Oh yeah that makes sense! Guess getting lost did help me out then since I didn’t bring a costume either.” she laughed, though the sound seemed a little too nervous to be completely genuine.

Shifting on her feet, Bonnie looked away. Clarisse wasn’t looking at her and it felt rude (and honestly creepy) to stare. This feels…a lot more awkward than what I thought coming back would be like. She realized. “Well, I hope you find a good costume! I should go look before the others take all the good options.” Bonnie walked away at that, heading in the direction of the back of the store, cheeks matching the pink of her hair in embarrassment.

Fancy That!’s cool interior welcomed Annie with open arms, air washing over her skin and soothing the embarrassed flush that had settled there moments prior. She was more than happy to distract herself with the tedious task of raking through the racks for anything of interest—the store may have specialized in costumes, but it was the off-season. What they had to pick from now was left over from the prior Halloween, and Annalise wouldn’t have been surprised if Evergreen’s counselors were single-handedly responsible for keeping the shop open during the summer months.

“I shouldn’t have set the bar so high for myself last year,” the blonde grumbled to anyone within listening distance, though it was mainly a chastisement for herself. For someone so picky, she should’ve known better than to risk subjecting herself to rifling through leftovers.

Trailing behind Annelise, Juliette offered Clarisse a polite, slightly tight-lipped smile before stepping into the store. The change in temperature sent a faint shiver over her skin, but she ignored it, her focus shifting to the bustling aisles ahead. Without hesitation, she slipped away from the group, her steps quick as she headed to the far end of the store, desperately needing a moment to herself. Walking in with a group was one thing; shopping shoulder-to-shoulder with them was another entirely.

Her eyes darted over the shelves as she wandered, the light reflecting off the various props and accessories. Each colorful display blurred slightly in her vision, and she blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the headache forming between her brows. Dammit. With a frustrated sigh, she crouched down, fingers shifting through a collection of ascots and neckties—hoping to find the right orange for Leon’s costume.


Connie openly welcomed the change in temperature that waved against the back of her neck and down her body after walking into Fancy That!, fully aware now of Easthallow’s unpredictable humidity after it forcibly dissolved from against her skin. In spite of the slight inconveniences that came with working in close proximity with others, the trip into town was further proving to be a reprieve as she strolled deeper inside, and towards its novelty accessories leftover from prior Halloweens.

Accompanied by a quiet sigh, her eyes scanned the variety hanging from metal hooks: cheap sfx makeup kits; bulky, plastic vampire fangs; and headbands with different characterizations glued to the flat, outer ring—it almost made her regret the decision not to go with simple this time around, especially after noticing the bright orange tags signifying price cuts. Was it pointless to spend extra on a costume when she wasn’t sure how elaborate the rest of the counselors would be tonight? But, going with basic meant dragging Leilani down with her misery and she didn’t deserve that.

Especially not Lani, Connie reminded herself as she set black, velvet cat ears back with the rest of the stock. “So costumes…” she intended to ask again after their conversation was cut short outside, curious as to what he had in mind, if anything at all. Throwing a glance toward Kayden, the brunette abandoned the display of accessories and started to sift through the racks of costumes in hopes of something that would catch her eye. “any ideas?”

On the other side of a clothing rack, Kayden thumbed through a few choices. Shawls, vests, and capes ruffled under his fingers. Each was passed over– unlike Connie, he had no plans to do more than he needed to for the night’s events. He’d worn a t-shirt and a baseball cap last year, and that was the level of commitment he was interested in recreating. If he was expected to be at Truth or Dare, his attendance alone ought to count as participation points.

Sue him, but sitting in a circle full of people he’d made a point not to know, waiting to see which of them was going to pin him under a microscope wasn’t his idea of a night well spent. The alcohol was a decent draw, but it also amped the others up. With every twelve-pack consumed, the dares only got more intense. It’s not like Kayden was one to pick truth— Leon had made sure of that back in ‘99.

And speaking of Macmillan, his delivery that morning hadn’t done much to inspire excitement. The reminder of the event coming in the same breath as the news about a brand new missing counselor? Sheesh. Who was supposed to be excited after that? He spared a thought for Mona, whose reaction he’d missed in the wake of Rowan storming out. The two of them were close; there was no way this news had gone down easier for her.

When Connie addressed him, he shook himself from his thoughts and lifted his head to meet her gaze. “This year is not the one I suddenly find myself invested in dressing up,” he replied, pushing another gimmicky jacket down the rack with a grimace. “I’m getting through this on something low-effort— whatever gets a shitty beer passed into my hand.”

Nodding slow at Kayden’s blatant disinterest in the Sunspot tradition, Connie’s hands briefly paused on an outfit as she flicked a quick downward gaze at her feet. “That’s fair,” she responded, internally reprimanding the positive attitude she tried to maintain the midst of grief. In one fell swoop, the reality of who would be missing from Truth or Dare came rushing back, and suddenly, Connie’s mindset mirrored his own—there was nothing to celebrate when Lisa’s disappearance blanketed everyone still recovering from the blow of losing the sisters.

Myself included, she swallowed hard and let her hands drop to her sides. “But Leon’s good about making sure everyone has one…or five,” she harmlessly quipped in remembrance of 2001.

Abandoning the rack of options in front of her with an unsatisfied sigh, Connie strolled a little further down the aisle until she stood in front of something that looked promising. And…pink? Faint interest partially absolved the frown that decorated her face as she pushed two costumes away to reveal a corset lined with satin frill. Oh. Then, mesh wings and white skirt that paired with the outfit followed its statement piece away from the rack as Connie pulled it free to view.

“This is cute.” she quietly admired and held it up, catching sight of the neon tag that displayed a price cut well under budget. And perfect for her. Draping the outfit over her arm to claim, she resumed her search for one of her own.

“As if people would stop at the first one anyway,” he replied, exhaling a short laugh as he turned his attention from the clothes he’d been sifting through to a display of various props. “It’s not really day three at Evergreen without hungover counselors huddling around the coffee at breakfast.”

A quiet snort escaped from Connie from behind the rack at Kayden’s unexpected quip, eyes gently wrinkling at the corners having failed to fight a smile from forming. “Don’t remind me..” black ringlets swayed as she shook her head in fond recollection—having been one of those counselors searching for a reprieve with the help of coffee and toast to pair it with.

The mention of a hangover instigated a phantom pain at her temples, but if given the choice, the brunette would revisit the makeshift bar all over again; a cup in hand, her friends at her side…Back when things were fine. Saving the nostalgic turn for a better time, Connie began to thumb through the rack again, careful not to wrinkle the wings in the process.

He bent down to pluck a plastic police bag from the shelf he was looking at, turning it over in his hands. Could be a cop, he mused. Put it in my pocket, show it to anyone who asks and tell them I’m undercover?

After a moment of pondering, however, he placed it back where he’d gotten it. With how things ended last year, police presence at camp wasn’t anything they needed a reminder of. Considering that another girl who worked there had gone missing, Officer Jones might be making another visit of his own. Sure, Lisa’d disappeared before the session started, but he’d dragged plenty of counselors in for interviews last summer; who’s to say he didn’t think it was related anyways?

As Connie started to gather a few items, he eyed the wings she was holding. “Planning on being an angel? It looks nice.”

Is that what this was? Connie paused her search and lifted her gaze to the costume folded in the crook of her arm, head dropping to a subtle tilt before she answered. “I think this is a fairy costume…,” fumbling in search of the tag to confirm, Levine nodded once she found her answer. “But yeah, I guess. This one’s for Leilani though so…I need to find another one.”

And as if on queue, another intricate pair of mesh wings—crafted with green iridescent cellophane and with a sparkly dress to match—poked out from between two dresses.

Joey leaned in close to the overhead mirror, pressing her lips together after a thick application of glossy pink Dior lipstick. She paused, examining the small smudge of mascara beneath her eye and, with a delicate swipe, erased the tiny blemish. Her fingers drifted up towards a pair of fluffy ears hanging from a metal bin. Joey fit the band upon her head and fluffed the ears further, gently tucking it behind her ears to pull out her curtain bangs properly.

Cuteeee...Rawrrrr!

The reflection like a camera rolling as she twisted her expression for moment into a half-grin, half-snarl. A soft, almost wistful sigh came after. Ugh, I wish it was socially acceptable to wear kitty ears in public. I'd have one for every outfit.

Joey slipped out from behind the rack, her grin widening with mischief, ready to catch Bonnie or Juliette off guard and steal an amusing reaction. But the girls were nowhere to be seen. Her smile faltered slightly as she glanced around, her eyes landing on the far end of the store, where Bonnie and Juliette were huddled by the wall of wigs. A spark of playful disappointment flickered through her and with a mental shrug, she made a note to herself to find something creepy to sneak up on them with later. If Juliette didn't flinch, she was sure she’d get something out of poor Bonnie.

Joey wandered down the aisle, wolf ears still perched on her head, and thought about what she'd be donning tonight. Everyone seemed to be fixated on finding their outfits, but her brain felt too foggy. Joey chalked it up to all the crying done earlier about Lisa. Her face still felt the effects, the skin around her eyes and her cheeks slightly puffy. She always hated how her face looked after she cried, but she couldn’t help it. Once she felt the tug, her heart always found a way to spill over. Joey bit her lip, refusing to let the memory of her time at the lake earlier come back into view.

Instead she glanced over to admire a pair of elbow-length gloves, their sleek surface glinting with diamond-shaped cut-outs. Last year she’d been a sexy nurse, inspired by Blink-182’s Enema of the State—a move that felt perfectly on-brand, especially since it had dropped just a month before. But this year? No latex. Not dealing with another rash, she thought, shuddering slightly.

Despite her vast wardrobe and innate second sense for fashion, Joey had never been one for outfit planning. Every time she tried, the look morphed drastically by the time she was actually out the door anyways. She figured she'd let the inspiration hit her whenever it would. Except this time, it just wasn't happening. Joey skimmed the racks, fingers brushing over hangers in childish habit. Everything felt either too much or two little. And if she was going to dress up, it had to be good.

A few steps away, Kayden and Connie rifted through a rack of curated outfits on the wall. She overheard snippets of their conversation and slipped around a circular rack to join them. "Did I hear fairies? With Leilani? That's gonna be so cute!—Oh!"

Joey reached over Connie's head on the tips of her toes to snag something from the upper most shelf. “These…” She pulled down two crowns, delicate and whimsical, their thin metal twisted and woven together with faux flowers, lace, and tiny sparkling jewels—one in a rich pink, the other a deep emerald green. She held them up with a flourish, her eyes gleaming. “You have to!”

Oh! Nearly flinching at Joey’s sudden appearance next to her, Connie instinctually ducked when the girl reached above her head—surprise replaced with a sense of curiosity, and then wonder once Joey pulled her hand back to reveal a pair of crowns made fit to complete the costumes draped over her arm with a flourish.

The brunette tilted her head, glancing up at the tall boy with expectant eyes, searching for a sign of approval. “Don’t you think?” she asked playfully.

He blinked in surprise as Joey turned her attention on him— it seemed like she had appeared out of nowhere, and now she was talking to him before he’d had the chance to catch up. Still, he was grateful for the interruption, considering he hadn’t known what to say next. It took him a moment before he actually looked at the items in her hands to see what she was asking him to agree to.

“Yeah, for sure,” he replied, glancing from the crowns she was holding to the dress Connie had just grabbed. “The green matches and everything.”

A soft and approving smile that said, those are… kinda nice, donned Connie’s features briefly before Kayden spoke his shared opinion of the sparkling accessories still in Joey’s hand. “Thanks, Joey,” the brunette expressed, extending a hand out for her to drop the crowns into. While waiting, a fleeting gaze upward caught sight of the novelty ears decorating the girl’s head. “Is that uh—part of your costume or are you still looking for something to wear?”

Joey beamed, pleased that her styling advice had been taken willfully—it was always one of her favorite compliments. She passed the two crowns over to Connie, instinctively twisting one of her bangs when the girl had pointed out the wolf ears. "Oh, no, I just wanted to wear them for funsies." she clarified with a shrug. Her hand hovered over as if to take them off, but realized she wasn't quite ready to part with the beloved accessory just yet. She let it fall back to her side.

Joey began rifling through the racks of outfits Connie had found her and Leilani's in, her attention shifting. "By the way, I'm grabbing some liquor and chasers before we head back," she added, not missing a beat. "I don't have anything to do until dinner anyways, so if you got any preferences, let a girl know." She gave her suede Juicy Couture a playful pat, winking at Connie. "You'd be surprised how much this baby fits."

The softer smile Connie usually donned transitioned into something wider, finding herself beaming—mainly with her eyes—at Joey’s offer before she nodded a bit. “Thanks,” she started, abandoning the rack she stood in front of to place a gentle free hand against the girl’s shoulder. “You can just surprise me though. I trust you.” she added, pulling away before turning to encompass both her companions.

Kayden eyed the ears, then the bag. For a moment, he just watched her, until he remembered the task at hand: finding something to wear. The rest of the shelf of him seemed to be a bust, though; most of the props would have lent themselves to a bigger costume, and he wasn’t looking for a multi-piece production.

“You planning on getting a bottle of Jack?” He asked. “There wasn’t any last year, and I’m not that big a fan of tequila.”

Or beer, but that seemed to be what he ended up with last year. If he was going to end up on the receiving end of some drunk-ass dare, he liked to at least enjoy what he ended up drinking while he did it. He glanced back over at Joey and Connie as he asked, eyes getting caught on the wolf ears once again.

For funsies? “If you’re not dressing up as a wolf, what are you going as tonight?”

The brunette tiled her head, tongue at the tips of her bottom teeth in a grin at the acknowledgement of her favorite liquor (as of late), “Hell yeah!” She replied, “Jack and Cherry Coke’s the way I like it.” Joey returned her attention to the racks, thumbing through them with more vigor this time. Something’s here I can feel it.

“See that’s the problem.. Nothing’s like screaming at me, y’know?” She looked up for a moment, green eyes scanning the contents in Kayden’s arms or lack thereof, “What about you? Don’t tell me you’ll be Luigi this year.”

Kayden shoved one hand in his pocket as he used the other to start parsing through a section of jackets. “No idea, but if a green baseball cap falls into my hands, that might be my sign,” he answered. “Nothing’s jumped out at me either.”

A blue flannel button-up caught his eye for a moment, but he pushed it down the line—- there was a near-identical one waiting in his trunk back at camp. “Then again, I don’t know if I can top Mario; I did a mustache for that.”

“You could’ve topped it by growing one, but… I guess it’s too late now.” Joey clicked her tongue, her gaze drifting to the side with an exaggerated shake of her head. Hmm… You know what, he’d look pretty cute with a mustache.

He took a quick look in the mirror at her comment. A mustache? Too late now for sure, but was that even something he could pull off?

“Oh!” Joey paused. Delicate with drama, her fingers gently snaked around baby blue gingham fabric with off-white lace. She pulled the dress free, holding it for a moment in total admiration. The mini dress had a structured edge—hard plastic boning curving at the ribs, with a satin ribbon that laced up the middle and matched perfectly. A swift look at the tag revealed its origins, Made with Love by Martha for Sarah. Handmade? “No way.”

She spun to face the full-length mirror that stood in the corner, holding her precious item up to her frame. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, to no one in particular, as though the universe might somehow agree. “I need it. I need it, anyway.”

The pieces were coming together and like clockwork, her peripherals caught a pair of ruby red shoes adorned by a glitter bow and the slightest of platform. Okay, stop. She bent down to check their size and rolled her eyes, confirming the last piece of the puzzle fit just right. A bit extra, maybe. But now that the image came together so effortlessly, she couldn't stray from the pull.

Joey felt immensely pleased, tucking the dress under her arm and clutching the shoes by their backs.

As she seemed to pull piece after piece out of nowhere, Kayden eyed the collection that was materializing around her. There was something contagious about the enthusiasm of her energy, and his lips curled up at the corner.

“That was a quick find,” he remarked, glancing between the various pieces. “Dorothy, or something more obscure?”

Though the fabric of Connie’s costume had been weightless when it was just hers draped over her arm, the collection of multiple pieces had begun to weigh her down in an uncomfortable fashion—evident in how she shifted the weight to her other arm with a building furrow of her eyebrows.

Joey caught Kayden’s reflection in the mirror and turned around, her expression flat. “No…?” she deadpanned, locking eyes with him, confusion flickering in her gaze before it cracked open into a playful smile. “Isn’t it perfect?”

“But…” Joey dropped her arm and glanced over her shoulder with another dramatic pout upon realizing her time with the beloved wolf ears was coming to an end. “Guess I really can’t get these... unless—” Her voice trailed off, eyes narrowing in on the top of Kayden's head in the reflection. “You get them!” she declared with a sly grin, "Think about it. You could be a warewolf! Throw on a plaid button-up and you're good to go. Low effort, just like you like it—maybe even lower of an effort than Mario."

Briefly eyeing the quiet register at the front of the store, Connie turned back to her friends, decidedly using their back and forth conversation as a ticket to lighten the load against her forearm. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” she announced quietly, giving a nod toward the check-out line when she looked at Kayden before passing a last smile toward Joey as watched her buzz around the aisle with an unstoppable concentration.

Kayden offered Connie a last nod in parting before Joey zeroed in on him. The wolf ears still stood high on her head, tufts of gray fur and pink fabric that anyone would recognize; he could avoid the blank stares he’d gotten last year from several counselors when he’d told them a red t-shirt and a plain baseball cap was his Mario outfit. Low effort, indeed.

“I could be on board with being a werewolf,” he replied— he’d be lying if he said it didn’t help how enthusiastic she’d been about them. “But I draw the line at wearing a tail.”

“Alright see you later,” Joey tossed Connie’s way, returning her attention to Kayden and slipping off the eared headband. She held it up, a sign for him to crouch down for her and fit the headband behind his ears. “Aw no fun, you’re so stubborn.” Joey teased—stifling a giggle, entirely satisfied with his compliance. “It suits you.”

He bent as she reached up, allowing her to slide them into place. The headband pushed back his hair, and he reached up to untuck the strands that usually fell over his forehead to hide the band itself, so that the ears looked like they poked out of his head.

Joey rolled her eyes with comical effect, “No tail though? Fine, if anyone asks me I’m telling them you’re my Toto.” She stepped back and shrugged, turning away from him to walk towards the checkout counter.

Now alone, Kayden watched her go with a furrowed brow. Toto? The rat-dog from Wizard of Oz seemed like a far cry from the wolf she’d just insisted he dressed as, but— low effort enough, he supposed. At least saying that he matched with someone else might keep him from a few accusations that he hadn’t tried hard enough.


Walking idly down an isle filled to the brim with party wigs, Bonnie stopped in front of a section of red hair. She reached a hand out, grabbing one that looked like it would fit the shape of her head. I could do a redhead character, maybe? She thought, thinking back to her Starfire costume from last year. At the time Bonnie hadn’t found a wig that she thought suited the costume she chose and instead had just worn her bleached hair, but going the extra mile this year could be fun.

That still didn’t answer the question of who she should dress up as. Bonnie had lucked out last year, Ricky had come to her rescue at the last minute and offered that she’d join his Teen Titans group. This year, though, no such offer had been made. “Why do I have to be so indecisive…” she muttered to herself, tossing the package between her hands as if the ball of synthetic hair would suddenly come to life and give her the answers she was looking for.

What does Fred even look like again? Juliette pondered, glancing between two ascots in her hand. One was a bright, almost neon orange—too loud, she decided—while the other was softer, more subdued. Her mouth twisted in contemplation as she raised each in the lighting, wondering why she was taking this so seriously.

With a decisive nod, she returned the neon one to the hook and playfully wrapped the softer ascot around her neck. Perfect. As she moved further down the aisle, a familiar head of pink hair caught her eye. I should say hi. She’s always been nice.

Blowing out a breath to ready herself, Juliette stepped up beside Bonnie, clasping her hands behind her back as she offered a warm smile. “Didn’t want to interrupt the reunion with everyone else, but it’s good to see you, Bon.”

Her gaze flickered to the red wig in Bonnie’s hand, a delighted gasp escaping her lips as she instinctively reached out to touch her shoulder. “Do you have a costume yet? Leon’s going as Fred this year—I don’t think he has a group planned. Maybe you should consider Daphne?”

If it wasn’t for the voice and the familiar face Bonnie might not have recognized the other counselor that came and stood near her, but when she did her eyes widened and a larger smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Omg hey!” She gave the blonde– wow that felt strange to say in reference to Juliette who Bonnie remembered with pretty red hair, a look over. “It’s good to see you too, I love the hair.” The compliment was genuine. Bonnie knew better than anyone how liberating changing your appearance could be and as long as Juliette liked her new hair, Bonnie would as well.

“Daphne?” She parroted, head tilting to the side as she weighed the option she’d just been given. Matching again would be fun, she’d never gotten that group photo she had wanted last year with Ricky, Leilani, and Clarisse so getting a do-over this year for the memories would be nice. Plus, she was vibing with the idea of wearing her hair red so the idea did make sense. I’m sure Leon won’t mind. After all, what good would it be not having a matching pair for a character so tied to his group mates? “I think I will do that. Thanks for the help Jules, you're a lifesaver.” If she hadn’t come along there was no telling how long Bonnie would have stood here contemplating what to do.

“Do you have a costume picked out yet?”

Juliette’s face softened at Bonnie’s wide smile, her own mirroring it—though perhaps a fraction smaller. A hand instinctively went up to tug at a loose strand, fingers toying with the newly bleached blonde. “Thank you! Joey actually did my hair not long ago…felt like a change was needed.”

The compliment did wonders for her confidence, warmth blooming in her chest. Her gaze drifted past Bonnie to the wall of wigs, narrowing at the sight of a ginger one that almost matched her old, rusty color—ew.

Sneaking another glance at the bubbly counselor, Juliette offered an encouraging nod, gesturing to the orange ascot wrapped snugly around her neck. “Yeah, there’s a whole section—I got lucky with this one. I think she wears a green one?” She tapped a nail against her chin, humming thoughtfully before shrugging, a small, breathless laugh slipping out. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry!”

At Bonnie’s compliment, she couldn’t help but beam back, waving her hand between them dismissively—an unspoken what are friends for?

Do you have a costume picked out? The blonde shook her head, softly sucking her teeth as she jutted a hip out, mulling over the options in front of her. “No clue,” she admitted. “Tonight’s going to be cold, though, so…” Her fingers trailed over the plastic packaging of the wigs, pausing on a short blonde bob. A small smirk tugged at her lips, “maybe something scary would be fun.”

Watching Juliette reach for a short blonde wig Bonnie had to admit that she wasn’t exactly sure what her friend was referring to. Scary things had never been her thing– always being the one to hide behind her hands or let out small squeaks of fear whenever something horror related was being played on tv. “Well whatever you pick I’m sure you’re going to look great.” Bonnie stated encouragingly, her voice taking on an almost matter-of-factly tone, tucking the red wig she’d picked under her arm.

Taking the chance to look away Bonnie jutted a finger outwards, thumb pointing in the direction she remembered the blonde appearing from. “Ascots in that direction I assume?” she asked for confirmation, knowing that it would be smart to get the items she needed– before I forget. “I’m gonna go get what I need for my costume but we should totally catch up at some point!” There was an unspoken I’d love to see how you’ve been the past year that seemed to hang in the air before Bonnie flashed Juliette once last smile and carried on her way.

“Thanks, Bon Bon.” Juliette raised a hand in a parting wave before breaking off eye contact, her attention shifting to the bob wig in her grasp. Tilting her head curiously, she mulled over whether she could pull off the outfit without suffering through the inevitable itch of a wig—plus, I just got my hair done, so…

“We’ll definitely catch up! And yup—down that way,” she called back over her shoulder, quickly ditching the wig and weaving past the wall of accessories to explore another section.

It’s nice that I still have friends here. The run in with Joey and now her conversation with Juliette brought a feeling of ease that flowed throughout her body as she went to look for an ascot. She even had a pep in her step as she turned down an aisle and was greeted with the motherload of ascots. “Woah…” she whispered, eyes widening at the sight. Was there even enough characters in existence to justify how many of them there were? At least there was no way she wouldn’t be able to find what she was looking for.

“Green ascot, green ascot, green ascot…” Bonnie walked down the aisle, looking high and low until– Aha! She came to a stop in front of the section that held green colored ascots. She didn’t think that the specific shade really mattered, but she also didn’t want to pick something that looked rancid or oddly colored. Almost on cue her eyes landed on one that looked reminiscent of the color of vomit. Ew. Her nose scrunched up in disgust, averting her gaze up higher in search of one that wouldn’t burn her eyes every time she looked at it. Before long she found one in a pretty lime green color. “That one could work.” she decided, mostly out of desire to move on to finding the rest of the things she needed for her costume. Reaching up on her toes, the wedges she wore giving her the height she needed to reach the package without needing a stepping stool or one of the workers to pull it down for her, she snatched the plastic bag down.

What else does Daphne need? I think I remember her having a purple dress, tights, and purple shoes? Juliette had said it was supposed to be cold as well so it would probably be smart to grab a jacket to wear in case she got chilly. With those tasks in mind Bonnie made her way throughout the store, grabbing what she believed would make for a cute outfit while being on theme and true to what she remembered for the character. Once she was done she made her way to the front of the store to pay.


Clarisse wandered through the halls of the shop, trying not to be too obvious in her attempts to avoid the others as much as possible. A part of her wondered if it would have been infinitely better to just have stuck to Levi and Liberty to Willamina but regrets often came late, and Joey’s presence did alleviate some of the tensions she felt after separating from the others.

The options weren’t lacking at all— if only she were a six-year-old child. It shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise but she still lamented about it internally. I could just not dress up. The thought of it felt like it could be justified for a variety of reasons, a lot of it mainly about Lisa’s disappearance. Though she supposed it would be an obvious cop out since she hadn’t been close to Lisa at all and everyone she was friends with was dressing up.

She reached out for a packaged costume and looked at the preview. A pure black outfit with skeleton bones imprinted on it. Clarisse turned to her side, about to make a joke, and it died in her throat as she looked straight at Annalise. In her distracted state, she hadn’t even noticed her at all. “Annie.” Clarisse started and her mind shifted from her earlier comment to Renee’s words and back to— “You think Leon would let me be skin and bones?” She asked, tugging at the costume she was holding.

Annalise turned at the sound of her name, but startled at the pairing of it with Clarisse’s voice. Her gaze drifted to the costume in the taller girl’s grasp, nose crinkling, though she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “It’s better than anything I’ll come up with,” she decided. A skeleton may have been a generic costume—one synonymous with preteen boys, even—but the way Clarisse said it made it seem smart. Annie doubted that any idea she presented could ever be interpreted as intelligent—the most she could hope for was pretty, but that was good enough. “I don’t even know what to get myself, much less Shiloh. So needy…” The blonde rolled her eyes, but her words lacked any real venom toward the absent man. “What do guys even wear for this kind of stuff, anyway? They never wanna dress up.”

As she spoke, Annalise meandered down the aisle, picking up and adorning herself with various costume pieces—a hot pink feather boa, a plastic tiara, and a pair of cat eye sunglasses with rhinestones lining the lenses—until she stopped at a small mirror hanging on the wall amid an array of hats. She observed her reflection with a frown, head tilting as it swiveled toward Clarisse again. “Too much?”

“I doubt that, somehow,” Clarisse drawled out as she let go of the costume. It could just be a backup but, if she remembered correctly, the cloth used on those left much to be desired. Shiloh? That was a name she hadn’t entertained in quite some time— an entire decade since she had last seen the face it belonged to. “He’s here?” She uttered the question with so much disbelief that it sounded like she didn’t need to know the answer.

If he was here, then would Olivia be there too? Why return now? Was it because of Renee and Paige’s disappearance? Why not earlier?

“Yeah,” Annie answered, shrugging. “He’s all dark and mysterious now.” Kind of hot. “I think him coming back was supposed to be a surprise or something. I dunno—hadn’t really heard from him since he left, so it sure surprised me.” A part of her wondered if there were, perhaps, some people at camp that Shiloh had told in advance and she simply hadn’t made the cut, but she ignored the way her gut twisted at the possibility, forcing a smile. “Who doesn’t love a surprise, right?”

Shiloh? Dark and mysterious? Ten years could really change a person, she supposed, but it was difficult to overlay that aura onto the Shiloh she knew, the Shiloh who taught her how to kick back, relax and break the rules to have fun, the Shiloh she considered to be her older brother in a time long past. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time a “big brother” would change so spectacularly.

Before her thoughts could spiral, Annalise began moving again and plucking certain items from the shelves before turning around to present her haphazardly made costume. It pulled a smile from Clarisse as she tilted her head, jokingly scrutinizing the costume. “It’s a costume party. I don’t think anything is too much.” She stepped back and raised her fingers in a box. “New upcoming star, Annalise Cartwright!” It was so easy to slip back into old habits. Too easy really. “It’s not so bad Annie,” she continued as she put her hands down.

The blonde giggled despite herself, striking a pose as Clarisse framed the scene. She flipped one end of the boa over her opposite shoulder with a dramatic flair but just as quickly changed her mind, tugging the accessory free and discarding it on a nearby rack. “I could do better,” Annie announced, snatching the crown from her head and moving the sunglasses up to take its place atop her silky, blonde hair as she peered at Clarisse. “What about you? No skin and bones?” She hummed, eyes narrowing as if considering something particularly thought-provoking. “Guess that makes you a ghost, huh?” She let out an amused breath at her own poor attempt at a joke.

“I’m sure you can. A lot of things suit you,” Clarisse pointed out with a shrug. She moved to stand beside Annie, quietly urging her to keep moving so they can continue to peruse their options. It was better to keep moving so they coud keep ignoring the elephant in the room. The joke landed and Clarisse gave her a small grin in return, one that noticeably lacked the warm mirth that she usually flashed in the past few years. “It’d be a little redundant, don’t you think?”

Annalise was grateful for Clarisse’s willingness to continue forward—with the brunette in front, it made her less likely to take note of how Annie practically preened at the compliment, index finger and thumb shooting up to twist the ends of her hair. For someone who portrayed herself as such a stoically confident young woman, she was too easily impressed by sugary words—one of the only remnants left behind of the girl who’d been so quick to assume that kindness was always given in earnest.

“Eh, who cares?” Annalise offered as she trailed behind Clarisse. “It’s just Truth or Dare. You could show up in a sheet with holes cut out for eyes and no one would say a word. Didn’t someone go as a hotdog, or something, one year? You can’t possibly do worse than that.”

Clarisse gave her a noncommittal nod and pushed on forward to browse through more of the prepared costumes. Coordination had never been her strongest suit so having a complete costume immediately was way better. “I think the guys usually just slap on a leather jacket and maybe some wolf ears and call it a day. Unless you’re Ricky, in his case, he goes all out.” She called back to the question and, for as long as she could remember, most of the guys didn’t go too far out to get costumes. Then again, most of them didn’t.

Annie groaned her disapproval. “That is so lame.” Lack of originality and fashion sense aside, however, it made the blonde’s task at hand a lot easier. The pair had passed a rack of animal-like accessories an aisle or two ago, and Annalise made a mental note to double back once she found something suitable for herself. He can find his own leather jacket.

“You think there are any off-limit costumes tonight? Considering…” The Evergreens. Lisa. The entire stupid thing. But they had entered the aisle where they kept the more menacing costumes from the latest scary movies. Most horror movie killers were masked and it wouldn’t be her first time thinking about just going with that as a sort of funny joke, but tonight? Would that even be allowed?

Annalise hadn’t thought about that, but Clarisse made a valid point. Things were morbid enough already—would it be in poor taste to don a rubber knife and fake blood, given recent developments, even if it was all in good fun? Then again, there was no proof that any of the missing girls were dead, much less killed by anything other than natural forces. “Doubt it,” Annie finally answered, passing on the aisle entirely. Either way, she’d never been a fan of horror movies. “If Leon can throw a party in the same woods a bunch of people disappeared in, you can be a serial killer for the night.” The blonde paused to rifle through a row of pre-assembled cartoon character costumes. Something recognizable was always a decent bet. “I mean, you’ll probably get weird looks—” Annalise halted her movements, along with her words, at the sight of a familiar bunny—granted, the skimpy basketball uniform was a solid guarantee that she’d be cold, but it was a small price to pay when it came to looking the best she could with the options she had.

Hand still lingering on the hanger, as if it’d made the decision before the rest of her had, Annie plucked the Lola Bunny costume from its cramped place on the rack and returned to join Clarisse. “Honestly, I think you should wear whatever you want, and if someone else has a problem with it, they’re taking this shit way too seriously.”

The reassurance was comforting as it was usually with Annie. Much like Renee, she was reliable when it came to social cues and Clarisse fully intended to follow along with her advice. At the end of the day, it was just some opinions thrown around— at this point, Clarisse was more than used to hearing something negative thrown her way. Annie broke off for a little bit which gave Clarisse enough time to get lost in some thoughts as she brought up a Ghostface costume without thinking. Would it be okay to ask about what happened between her and the sisters? The fact that she was given no context made it both feeling like Annie had done something grievous or it was for a temporary thing— up until Renee and Paige had disappeared. So maybe…?

She turned back to the blonde, serial killer costume now in hand, and her eyes went down to what Annalise had picked up. “Be sure to pack up a jacket or something.” The worry in her tone bled out naturally; no matter what happened, concern for her friends had always been second nature. Then, she extended her hand, waiting for Annalise to give her the costume so they could bring it to the cashier should it be her final decision.

Annie waved her free hand dismissively. “Oh, duh,” she assured, though she had no real intention of following through, sweet as Clarisse’s worry may have been—a bulky hoodie would’ve ruined the aesthetic. Besides, it was far more fun to look miserable in the presence of boys who’d be all too eager to offer their jacket to a girl in need. “Of course! I have a sweatshirt back at—”

Sudden movement drew Annalise’s attention downward to where Clarisse’s arm was held out expectantly. The blonde swallowed, brow furrowing as she shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.” The brunette had always been too generous, and as much as Annie wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to take advantage of the gesture in good conscience, especially considering how closely the situation aligned with what had landed her in hot water with the Evergreens. Maybe she’s not being nice anymore—she’s calling me out. Even if that wasn’t the case, Annalise was sure that Renee would’ve found a way to make it so, had she been there.

Her hand twitched and quickly placed it inside her pocket. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” Had she been overstepping? Had she made Annalise uncomfortable because of the offer? She tried to think back to the last time she had gone to a shop with her and she had been relatively okay with it but that was years ago. She shouldn’t have immediately assumed it would be the same thing.

Annie chewed on her bottom lip, gaze dropping to the floor. The dip in Clarisse’s mood was unmistakable—the blonde hadn’t meant to be rude. She wanted to backtrack, to tell the girl that it was okay—apologize for implying that it wasn’t—but she couldn’t bring herself to form the words properly, not when she was already on such a roll with unintentionally burning bridges one snippy remark at a time. The fingers of Annalise’s vacant hand curled inward, nails digging into her palm. Nice job, Cartwright.

An uncomfortable and awkward silence settled around them and Clarisse wanted nothing more than to run again. Man, where is Joey when you need her? She made a cursory glance around the shop but the others were still deep in their own aisles and it would be even worse if she just left. She cleared her throat but still struggled to meet Annalise’s eyes. “Let’s go pay then? Or, uh, did you need to pick something up for Shiloh?”

More than happy for the distraction, Annie straightened, blue eyes brightening. “Right! I’ll meet you up front, if you wanna go ahead.” She offered Clarisse a small smile before sidestepping the taller woman and heading back the way they’d come during their initial perusing. The blonde’s feet skidded to a stop in front of a collection of animal ears and tails, zip-tied to cardboard backings in sets. Wolf, right? Annalise glanced between the pegs, doing her best to discern one vague likeness from another without having to squint at the names scrawled across the top in a cramped font. None of them appeared wolf-like in nature—there was an empty spot, presumably where they would have been—but that was all the same. Shiloh’s more like a puppy dog anyway. Quickly, Annie snatched a pair of brown, floppy ears, accompanied by a clip-on tail and collar, from the shelf and left to find Clarisse again before she could change her mind about the choice in costume.

Clarisse gave her a small salute as she turned tail to head to the cashier. She handed over her costume and the necessary amount of money, giving the cashier a tight-lipped smile as she was met with a little bit of surprise at both her choice of costume and the fact that she was in the damn costume shop in the middle of summer. She grabbed the paper bag and rolled it up a bit before moving to the side. The others seemed to take a bit more time, likely because they were picking up costumes for other people just like Annalise. She guessed no one expected that the Truth or Dare would happen again since it was usually at the insistence of Renee.

Annie followed suit, placing her items on the counter and fishing through her pocket for the wad of cash she had stashed there as the woman rang up her findings. Thankfully, the total was within the blonde’s budget; she hadn’t even thought to check—an old habit that refused to die despite its necessity in recent years. As Annalise forked over just beyond half of the amount she currently held, she did her best to ignore the nagging voice at the back of her mind that shamed what pride she had left for getting in the way of Clarisse’s prior offer. Stop, she reminded herself. You’re not a charity case.

Taking the paper bag presented to her, Annalise thanked the cashier before crossing the space to where Clarisse lingered by the door. “You’re a substitute too, right?” she asked, unwilling to let another awkward silence settle over them—any lull in conversation was an opportunity for Clarisse to recall why she’d stopped talking to Annie in the first place. As if she could ever forget. “What’d they have you doing? I was stuck on dishwashing duty, like, all day. Didn’t think I’d ever get out of that kitchen.” Not with my dignity still intact, anyway. “Have you met Harper yet? She’s a lot like her cousins—Renee, especially.” Annalise shifted the bag in her arms to get a better grip. “It’s kinda creepy.”

Clarisse tilted her head towards Annalise to signify that she was listening while still looking out for the others. “Whoops, might have started that trend. I helped Juliette out yesterday night, felt bad for her soloing the entire stack.” It wasn’t her fondest memory considering how painfully awkward it was but it had gone better than she expected, especially when the flash of blonde, style and speaking reminded her too much of her best friend. “I took one of the counselors around and then helped at sports. Force of habit really.”

“It’s okay,” Annie corrected. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if there were less people. The sink’s only so big, ya know?” She paused. “Actually, come to think of it, Juliette wasn’t even there. I’m sure she had her reasons, but—” The shorter girl frowned, pale eyes roving the store until they landed on Juliette’s frame, where she conversed with Bonnie in the wig section. As if the blonde hair wasn’t bad enough… What the hell am I doing your work for?

Annalise was careful not to linger in her suspicions too long, mouth turning up again as her attention shifted back to Clarisse. “That doesn’t sound too awful. Let’s just hope the farmers don’t need any help later—I can’t stand dirt. Or worms.” She shuddered. During her time as a camper, Annie had always attempted to get out of that lesson, her excuses growing more and more creative over the years as to why she couldn’t be expected to root around in the soil like a mole. The only compromise she’d ever managed, though, was being put on harvesting duty—at least the tomatoes and corn were far enough from the ground she didn’t have to stoop.

“I guess next time we should have dishwashers as a different job entirely since it sounds like a lot of people are trying for that hm?” Though, it was odd that Juliette hadn’t even been present for that. But she wasn’t about to tell the cook what to do in her own kitchen— maybe she had roped the other counselors in doing it? To be fair to her, she had already done all the cooking so maybe this was all fair. Clarisse gave her a little chuckle. “I’m pretty sure we have plenty of farmers; but if they do need help, I can take over for you. Hope you enjoy the other jobs though.”

Annalise snorted. “One can only hope.” She’d been at Camp Evergreen long enough to know by now that her particular skill set didn’t quite fit in anywhere—she was like a chameleon, able to force herself into just about any mold presented to her, whether she liked it or not. None of the camp’s activities jumped out at her as an especially desirable line of work, but she’d have to make do with the options she had. “You’re a Saint! They wouldn’t want my help, anyway.”

Clarisse flashed her a smile and a thumbs up, no stranger to getting down and dirty for the camp— or anything really. A byproduct of having grown up around Shiloh then Ricky and Lou and something that just stuck by her as she grew older. Someone in their little group had to be the one to do the dirty work and Clarisse simply stepped up to that position. It was far better than having to actively talk to people she barely knew.

Another name that sent an ice cold feeling across her body and she forze and her body went slack, arm lowering to her side. Harper? Of everyone who had to return, Harper did as well? The broken promise hung between them and she had avoided her for as long as humanly possible by making sure she wasn’t at the Evergreens whenever she visited. It seemed like time had run out for Clarisse. “Yeah, she’s um… she and Renee are—” she paused to take a breath to stop stumbling over her words. “They’re close. I think they’re more sisters than Paige and Renee were.” And Renee made that known every single time she could hold it over Paige. “I didn’t know she was coming back too.”

The blonde tried—and likely failed—to mask the surprise that flashed across her features at the realization that Clarisse was aware of Harper’s existence prior to her arrival at camp. She’d always been closer to Renee out of the sisters—maybe that had something to do with it—but Annalise had always viewed herself as an honorary Evergreen, an idea that Paige had enacted and revisited throughout their time together. For someone on such amicable terms with both girls, why had they kept part of their family a secret from her? Guess I wasn’t the only one hiding something. Annie pursed her lips, gaze sliding to the door just beyond Clarisse. “It’s weird,” she admitted. “I mean, the camp being open at all right now is totally bizarre, but why would she want to be somewhere that took Renee from her?” Realizing her tone, the girl was quick to correct: “It’s hard enough for us, but I can’t imagine how their family must feel.”

Clarisse tried to ignore the ringing in her ears to listen to Annalise but failed to catch anything about her surprise. “I don’t know,” she responded with a shake of her head. She shifted uneasily as she began fiddling with the bag of her costume. She put most of her attention on it now but kept talking. “Maybe she came here for closure… or answers.” Just like I am. But she couldn’t pretend to know what Harper was thinking; she was many times over like Renee but different all the same. She could see Annalise’s point though; aside from Jonathan, none of the other Evergreens wanted anything to do with the camp ever again from what she could remember. So why now? “Did she seem off? Or well, like she was uncomfortable?”

Annalise shrugged, frowning as she considered Clarisse’s question. She didn’t know Harper well enough to have a basis of her typical behavior to judge accordingly, but she had seemed confident in her newly-found placement at Evergreen. “Not really,” Annie determined at last. “She was kinda doing a good job of making everyone else uncomfortable, though.” Me, especially. Must run in the family. Another half-hearted tilt of her shoulders. “Like I said. Weird.” The blonde was in no position to instruct someone on how they should grieve—it was different for everyone—but the dark-haired cousin hadn’t appeared upset in the slightest, and it was hardly a fault on Annalise’s part to raise an eyebrow at Harper’s nonchalant behavior. At least have the decency to pretend to be upset. Like me.

Annalise’s words did not bring any form of comfort and simply doubled down on the dreadful curl in her gut. Time to make it my lifelong mission to avoid her in these two weeks. Rowan had practically warned her that going back to this camp would be a terrible idea and she was starting to go back to that mindset. “Fantastic. That will be fun to look forward to.” What had started out as a supposed leisure time just became some sort of bad omen from start to finish.

The sarcasm dripping from Clarisse’s words didn’t go unnoticed, and Annie pursed her lips, debating on how many of her cards were safe to show. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she said, testing the waters. “You said it yourself that Renee and Harper were like this.” The blonde held up her entwined index and middle fingers. “If you could handle Renee, Harper should be a breeze, right?” What’s another Evergreen to walk all over you?

It's more complicated than that, Clarisse wanted to say but decided not to. Unpacking what happened with Harper wasn't something she was too keen on doing. Wanting nothing more than the move on from the topic of Harper but not wanting the silence to become too prevalent, she scrambled for any topic and— “I appreciate that you’re still wearing them.” She muttered, surprised by how vulnerable that sounded but she chugged on. “I… honestly didn’t think you would for long.” The earrings themselves paled in comparison to what she had seen Annalise wear when they were much younger and it had been at a relatively cheaper price than what she knew the Evergreens toted around. It was easily replaceable but Annalise hadn’t which had to mean something about their friendship, right?

Annie’s vacant hand lifted to twist one of the golden studs sitting snugly in her earlobe, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. If not for the gentle tone in which the admission was spoken, Annalise might’ve mistaken Clarisse’s kindness for underhanded judgment again, but when Annie met the girl’s pale eyes, they offered nothing but sincerity. “They go with everything,” the blonde said. She didn’t know when the lines between intentional appreciation of the gift and habitual use blurred—somewhere along the way, she’d started to unknowingly reach for them any time she wanted something simpler than her typically overstated accessories, but there was always the knowledge creeping in from the back of her mind to remind her where they’d come from. Annalise was only grateful now that Clarisse didn’t appear to regret her choice in any fashion. There was almost something symbolic to be said about it, too—how, even after all this time, Annie still found herself leaning on other people for input, regardless of how independent she liked to claim she was. “You did good.”

The praise was so clearly well-recieved with Clarisse practically preening at the words, somewhat lifting the worry and guilt that hammered down on her from the previous conversation. Though, suddenly bashful, she scratched the side of her neck. “Cool, awesome. That’s good,” she said as she nodded. “Well worth the time staring at the selection.” She cringed at the memory, struck by decision paralysis combined with a general struggle in choosing gifts by herself. The time limit of being able to find something to give Annalise before their little hang out had finished might have helped a little bit to rush her into a decision. She could have been there for hours if it had been in any under circumstances. “Wish we could have done it more— shopping together I mean. We never did follow up on that.” Considering how frequently Annalise’s family seemed to move across the land, catching her in the first place was a miracle in and of itself.

Any reprieve from the sisters’ ever-watching eyes had always been a rarity. Their inner circle was just that: a group of people carefully-selected and designated the job of orbiting them—mere moons drawn into their gravity. It wasn’t often that those chosen few socialized without Renee or Paige present, but somehow, Annie and Clarisse had found a loophole in their system. It was an unexpected—though not unwelcome—surprise, a day that the blonde had looked back fondly upon more times than she cared to admit. At the end, there’d been the obligatory promise of meeting up again, however, Renee likely stomped that bud out beneath her designer shoe as soon as she caught wind of it.

God forbid we have a life outside of her. Even now, Annalise didn’t feel entirely free from the Evergreens’ clutches.

“Yeah, I—”


Arms full of last minute Truth or Dare finds, Juliette balanced two medium-sized bottles of fake blood against her side, a white sweater draped over one arm, and a cordless white phone nestled snugly between them. No bob wig in sight—she had decided it wasn’t necessary after all.

As she made her way towards the front of the store, her white tennis shoes skidded across the smooth floor, nearly sending her sprawling. A startled noise slipped out as she barely caught herself at the last second—only to crash shoulder first into someone standing in line. The distinct wave of secondhand embarrassment hit before she even looked up. Freaking…great.

Blowing a few stray blonde strands from her face, Juliette’s eyes narrowed as she subtly shifted her shoulder away, gripping her haul a little tighter. Of course, it had to be Connie. “Sorry, my bad,” she muttered, the words tasting sour. Her skin prickled with irritation at having to apologize to her, of all people. She’s lucky I didn’t spill paint all over her.

Shit—! The boating instructor let out her own startled sound at the unexpected shove to her shoulder, yet thankfully, managed to steady herself before hurtling toward the floor. “No, it’s okay…” Connie answered distractedly, not quite paying any attention to who had tripped into her while she slacked her grip against the load in her arms and made sure everything was accounted for.

Wings are fine. Dresses? Good. Wait—“my crown…” she mumbled to herself, casting a searching expression down to the floor until she found the familiar piece that Joey finished off her costume with moments before. Once Connie made eye contact with the intricately-woven metal accessory, her breath hitched in her throat. You’re kidding. Despite its shape firmly intact, artificial flowers unbent and free of grime stains, its statement piece—a green chunk of costume jewelry—had popped out of its frame on impact and skidded to a shoe planted nearby. And at the sight, the counselor’s patience for the situation descended rapidly.

Tucking the dresses she held under her arm, and careful not to let Leilani’s pink crown meet the same fate, Connie slowly bent at the waist to pick up the two remnants of hers in one swift motion before standing straight to finally meet the eye of who was responsible. Ready to ensure that they were okay, the comforting words died in her throat when she met the familiar head of blonde hair, followed by her occupied arms. The brunette’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you actually, Juliette?” Connie bit, her voice carrying out a harsher tone than she intended. However, the broken pieces of the crown she held in her hand refused to let her show any more regret about it other than swallowing down the obvious impatience she now carried. “At least try to watch where you’re going.”

Juliette’s frown deepened, settling into something dangerously close to a pout as her shoulders sagged slightly, brows knitting together in faux concern. “Connie, that’s so rude—like I’d knock into you on purpose. Who does that?” She rolled her eyes, sarcasm lacing her words before her gaze dropped to the shattered remains of what looked like a tiara in Connie’s hands.

Though her eyes remained dark, and her teeth were fiercely clenched together to keep from recklessly speaking out of turn, the forced breath that escaped Connie’s nose was something of a reset; a settling realization that maybe she had read the situation all wrong. She’s…right. The counselor suppressed a grimace having to admit it. Not even she would do that on purpose—

A sharp wince slipped out before she could stop it, followed by a muttered oof. Swallowing down the sting of embarrassment once again, she forced herself to glance away, scanning the room to make sure no one else had caught her near mistake. She was in my way—not my problem. Still, her pulse quickened with the urge to snap back, but instead, she bit out in quiet defense, “guess I got too excited at the thought of ditching this lame ass group. My mistake.”
Her skin prickled in frustration—and that was new. Juliette wasn’t used to getting worked up so easily, learning quickly that always bothered Renee. But here she was, jaw clicking in annoyance, why am I letting her unravel me so easily?

Deciding she’d rather be the bigger person—if only for the sake of her own pride—she forced a breath through her nose and repeated with more control, “Seriously. It was an honest accident.”

The reality check from Juliette of all people sat unwelcomingly on her shoulders as Connie began to feel like a scolded child. But in the same breath that the blonde was reprimanding her, Juliette had managed to take ten steps away from becoming the bigger person that Levine usually was. The obligated feeling of having to bow her head for the blonde in apology instantly dissolved with the humorless scoff that escaped her next.

“It’s funny you say that considering we all got to choose which group to join for the trip, and you picked this ‘lame ass group’,” Connie sarcastically fumed. The urge to drop the bundle of clothes she still cradled in her arms climbed with her blood pressure, but an image of who else would suffer from that result kept her rooted in her place in line. So instead, she fixed her voice to become as steady as possible before speaking again, exhaling one more line before she turned her head to face forward. “Save your fake apology, Juliette. Nobody’s buying it.”

Her mannerisms would have gone unnoticed if Connie didn’t turn to apologize at the start, but Juliette’s brief scan of the room hardly made her attempt of sincerity believable. Renee isn’t here to validate you, so stop looking for it.

“I chose the store, not you.”

Juliette’s laugh was sharp, humorless. As she spoke, her hand flicked up to her hair in a practiced motion—the kind she’d seen Renee do countless times. Her blue eyes swept over Connie from head to toe, thoughts drifting to the latest whispers in the rumor mill—about how Levine might’ve killed the youngest Evergreen. “Nice temper, by the way.” Her mind flickered back to their conversation near the trail, gaze locked onto the back of Connie’s head. “Did Paige know about it?”

She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she knocked her shoulder into Connie’s, gaze narrowing before she strode towards the counter, cutting the line. Placing her belongings down, she politely asked for a bag, resting her elbow against the surface, chin in hand, nails tapping absently against the solid wood. Still need to make a quick stop—anything to get out of this store.

What had seemingly started out as nothing more than a minor accident—an embarrassing one at that, Annalise noted as she watched Juliette stumble over her own feet, crashing into Connie—had risen to a full-scale argument between the two girls. Even if she didn’t want to intrude—which, she did—the blonde wouldn’t have been able to escape the harsh words being thrown back-and-forth, given her current proximity and the volume at which Juliette and Connie spoke. The last Annie had heard, the two girls were on amicable terms, but if the display unfolding before her was any indication, that was no longer the case.

Though the insult was directed at Connie, Juliette’s dig at their ‘lame ass group’ conjured an eye roll from Annalise. She couldn’t say that Connie didn’t deserve it after her insinuation that the other girl’s stumble had been on purpose—you couldn’t pay me to do that—but Juliette was hardly one to point blame in terms of lameness. She was a cheap, knockoff Evergreen Barbie doll, and that more than spoke for itself.

“Can’t take them anywhere, huh?”

The sound of tennis shoes skidding against the floor cut off whatever conversation they had and Clarisse’s gaze snapped towards the noise— and what a tragic fate had befallen Juliette as she practically crashed into Connie. It shouldn’t have been a big deal really and she wanted to look away and pretend it never happened but the action seemed to have ignited something within the two of them.

“I thought they were friends,” Clarisse admitted in response, shifting so she was leaning closer to Annalise and could whisper her words. She rubbed her nose as the intense floral scent Annalise constantly carried with her came at her full force. “But I guess a year can really get to you.” Not that she could talk very much about that considering her own personal connections that formed and crumbled over the year of the Evergreen disappearance.

Two weeks can get to you. It was all part of growing up, Annie supposed. Friendships were fleeting—that fact had always been true for the blonde—but the older she got, the harder it was to hold on to those close to her. Whatever relief she felt towards her secret’s supposed safety, lost in the woods with the Evergreens, it was overshadowed at times by a crushing loneliness. The only person Annalise felt that she could truly trust was herself, but even that ideal wasn’t nearly as dependable as it had been in the past.

The blonde shook her head, willing away the negative thoughts before they could settle comfortably in the forefront of her mind. Now was hardly the time to dwell on her personal problems, anyway. “No kidding,” was all that Annie dared to say on the matter.

“Should we—” she made a small flourish of her hand towards the two who were much too focused on each other to really take in their surroundings. How an argument in public would look like. “Stop them?”

Annalise exhaled—a barely-contained laugh at Clarisse’s suggestion—as she tore her gaze from the metaphorical train wreck unfolding between the two counselors. “And get in the middle of that? No thanks. Besides, it’s way more fun to watch.” The words had barely escaped her glossed lips, however, when the argument fizzled out with a similar ending to its beginning—Juliette shoved harshly past Connie, seemingly no longer interested in what other insults the girl could conjure up.

Show’s over.

“See? No need to poke our noses in.” Undoubtedly, Annie inserting herself into the scuffle would’ve only fanned the flames.

Waiting for the total, Juliette zoned out completely, her nails drumming idly against the countertop as her thoughts drifted back to what had happened minutes ago. Was that mean? A slight frown cracked beneath the surface as she argued with herself. It’s not like Connie would hurt Paige—they’re best friends. Everyone knows that.

She pursed her lips, sucking her teeth as she halted her tapping. But it felt…nice shutting her up, didn’t it? The voice slithered in—sharp, familiar, sounding just like Renee. Juliette’s gaze dropped to her painted nails, and she jerked out a stiff nod, blonde strands falling in place. Yeah, it did.

Not bothering to wait for change, she slapped down a crisp bill and took the bag, turning on her heel. As she made her way to the door, her gaze flicked towards Annie, giving her a sharp side-eye before softening—just slightly—when her eyes met Clarisse’s, the shared moment of cleaning dishes still fresh on the mind. She averted her gaze immediately, dropping it to the floor as she pushed through the door, ditching the group.

cast:
location:
fancy that! costume shop

 
P
ausing his bored lap around excitable campers, Nicolas Burns closed in on one of the smaller groups he, and the rest of the counselors, divided the crowd of fifty into, and crouched at his ankles. "What's going on?" He motioned towards the bundle of fuel they gathered laying in an untouched heap by their feet. "The sticks aren't gonna hurt ya."

The survivalist graciously—and discreetly—preferred working under a canopy of dense tree clusters in comparison to the awkward tension left behind at Willamina, even if it meant taking his chances at an assault with a deadly booger or a shower in an unexpected cough. In truth, the activity couldn't have landed at a better time to expel the flurry of awkward emotions that came after learning about Lisa Xander's unfortunate demise.

Between his turn at thoroughly emphasizing the importance of practicing fire safety and Riley's explanation of the best picks of wood and timber, all was smooth sailing until he spotted a stagnant group. Finally—something to do!

Once Nic announced himself, dark brown eyes—shielded behind a pair of rectangular prescription glasses—fell on him first. The camper had said nothing to start, but wordlessly looked over him. He responded with a quick, cheesy smile. Do I have something on my face or—?

"You have a cigarette stuck behind your ear." Another young girl sitting cross-legged on the forest floor next to Glasses broke the silence, and Nic only had time to acknowledge the blonde hair she pushed behind her shoulders before she spoke with a pointed eyebrow at him. "you know you can't smoke here, right?"

"Well, yeah!" he scoffed, feigning annoyance before a lighthearted quip followed. "you guys haven't started the fire yet, so I can't."

This time, Glasses chimed in with an explanation geared towards her apparent friend. "He's new. Hugo's son the Supervisor was telling us about this morning." And, at the mention of Hugo Burns, Nic's shoulders habitually deflated, the name as sharp and uninviting as a needle to a balloon's surface.

Here we go...

"Oooh!" The blonde camper emphasized the "O" with a drawl before a grimace wrinkled her features. "Seriously?"

Nicolas shook his head and mirrored her grimace. "Nu-uh" Quickly, he redirected them both back to the activity before their curiosity conjured up further questions to pester him with. "So, are we ready to get this campfire going or what?"

They nodded.

"Kay so—you got all your materials ready and you just need to position them. What's the fire need to catch onto first? Your tinder—?" Nicolas nodded toward the dry bark and crunchy leaves they gathered, before throwing a fleeting glance toward pencil-thin twigs. "—Your kindling? Or—" He pointed at the four branches left, significantly larger in size but not impossible for campers their age to carry by themselves. Then, he looked back up at the girls, posing the lengthy question for them quizzically. "Your fuel?"

Clearing her throat, Glasses answered, hesitation evident in her wavering tone. "Um. The bark and leaves. Tinder?"

"Yup" Nic nodded. "Blondie! What comes after tinder?"

"Uh... the big sticks? The fuel?"

Nic's lips immediately twisted into a mischievous grin before he made an exaggerated "EEEHH!" sound—similar to a wrong-answer buzzer from an old game show. A few heads from nearby groups turned at the noise but refocused to their own fires, snorts and chuckles in tow.

She blinked at him, however, clearly unimpressed by the counselor's antics. "Really?"

Duh! "Your fire's gonna struggle trying to ignite the fuel." Nic explained as he threw glances between the both of them. "The base needs to be something small enough to light easily but strong enough to hold it up without smothering the flames."

"You need those." He motioned toward the thinner bundle of twigs. "Kindling. You build your fire up, not down. The tinder catches first, the kindling keeps it going, and then you introduce the big stuff once the flames are strong enough to handle it."

With a huff, the camper crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. In amusement or annoyance? "whatever." The burnout didn't care to guess, but he knew that dinner was quickly approaching, according to Riley.

Must be hangry, he reduced the attitude to. Join the club, Miss Thang.

Glasses, on the other hand, adjusted her frames and shrugged. "Huh. Guess that makes sense."

Nic answered with a simple "mhmm" before he stood and rose to his full height. Nodding toward the tent-shaped wooden structure they built with a satisfied smile, he addressed them both again. "Now that we're all on the same page, let’s light this bad boy up before we gotta explain why our fire is the only one that sucks."

With a steady grip and patient effort, the survivalist instructor watched as smoke began to curl from the wooden sticks the campers took turns maintaining friction with, whispy at first, then thickened as embers took their first breath.
Burnout Burns Navigates Starting a Campfire
nicolas "nic" burns
location:
camp evergreen; survivalist campsite
outfit:
mentions/interactions:
riley kelson. npc campers.
 
Last edited:
COSTUME TRUNK

AMPHITHEATER
S
tepping down the incline of wooden benches, Leon tightens his hand around Billie’s to keep her balanced from the naturally formed hill’s steepness. He sheepishly chuckles as the tip of his shoes kick up dirt in his effort to prevent from toppling forward, swinging his free arm around triumphantly once he lands on solid flat ground.

“There ya’ go,” he catches the hand not holding his own as she descends the final steps, pulling her to settle beside him with an encouraging nod. “You might not believe this. The Amphitheater is a hazard for campers. Ask Marquis how many kids wind up at med-bay just from taking a tumble.”

A small, barely audible “oof” escaped from Billie as she was helped down the last step, steadying herself beside Leon once she landed on the solid ground. “Thank god farming is just a flat surface,” she joked, bringing a hand to her forehead to wipe away imaginary sweat. A dramatic sigh slipped free, and she turned to fully face Leon, her grin wide.

“Thanks for the hand, by the way,” she added, her eyes glancing over his flannel shirt. “But don’t break a limb for me.” Her fingers flicked at one of the buttons on his shirt, her grin shifting into something softer.

Drawing her hand upwards, she gently knocked her knuckles against his chin—too slow.

Reluctantly and with some hesitation, he releases both her hands, swiping his palms along the sides of his jeans as he takes some awkward steps backwards to the central stage. Behind the constructed wooden wall, an attempted barrier for the camps’ plays and presentations, was a secondary stage—costume trunks, a floor length mirror, and tables with accompanying benches were littered around, stretching all the way to the creek’s edge.

“Should be some leftover costumes in one of the trunks,” he explains, jerking a thumb towards the redundant door constructed into the wall—really, anyone could just walk around it—but he turns the handle, not quite able to rip his eyes from Billie’s.

For all he knew, his mind might’ve conjured the image of her up, sending him exactly what he needed at the right time. Blink, and she might disappear. His stubbornness wins out, the heel of his shoe catching on the small lip in the doorframe, stumbling backwards into the backstage with little to no grace.

“Shit—” he swore, both hands whipping out to catch himself on the doorframe before he’d suffered a camper-related injury. “Uh. Counsellors are also known for some unlucky falls.” Regaining his balance, a hand flies to the back of his neck to soothe away the prickle along his skin. Smooth, idiot.

“Oh—” The newcomer instinctively reached out, ready to catch Leon if needed, only to stop short as he effortlessly caught himself. Amusement danced in her eyes as her head tilted to the side, strands of hair falling in front of her face. A dork.

“How many?” she asked with a playful smirk, tucking her loose locks behind her ear as she watched him rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “How many times have you been to the Med Bay yourself?” She turned away, giving herself a moment to explore the area more freely. Her gaze swept over the space with casual curiosity, but she couldn’t resist a glance back at him, the teasing glimmer still present in her eyes.

Leon paused, rummaging through fourteen years of Camp Evergreen and his somewhat frequent trips to the med-bay with a sheepish grin. “Let me get back to you on that.” Too many, Billie. Too many.

“Soo,” Billie drawled, her eyes scanning the strange, abstract setup before her. “Costumes? What, you guys put on plays out here?”

Feeling a sudden burst of inspiration—and admittedly a bit too giddy about stealing more moments with Leon—she twirled herself into his arms. Leaning back against his chest, she lifted an arm dramatically to drape over her eyes.

“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” she cried out theatrically, her voice barely giving off the despair. Laughter bubbled up between her forced lines as she continued, “O teach me how I should forget to think!”

That’s my line, he thought with a wicked smile, arm secured around her middle to keep her balanced against his chest. Scouring his mind for the words he’d committed to memory, he recites back, “one fairer than my love! The all-seeing sun, ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.”

She pulled herself away from Leon with a playful flourish, her hand coming up to cover the bright grin spreading across her face. “I should’ve applied for acting instead. Can’t believe my school taught us that play when I was eleven.”

Billie’s lips parted slightly, her lower lip drawn inward as her teeth softly caught it, holding it for a brief moment, catching herself mid thought. Probably why I’m such a hopeless romantic, heh. Thank you, Shakespeare. “Have you ever put on a show before?”

“Same here,” he chuckles, thinking back on the struggle of English class and how far behind he fell. Ironically, the difficulty of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet managed to make more sense than other required reading from a modern age, finding the tragic romance of two star-crossed lovers spoke to him on a level he wanted to understand.

He shuffles towards a costume trunk, searching the back wall for the display of photographs depicting past plays until he finds what he was looking for—his one starring role. “1992, I was Peter Pan,” he gestures to the framed photo, decked out in green with an all-knowing smirk on his face—two of his lost boys, Levi and Shiloh, were flanking him.

“Oh my god—it’s little Leon,” Billie pointed out as she leaned closer to the photo, spotting the familiar smirk and messy hair—hasn’t changed much. Her lips formed an open pout, her brows softening in as she took in the sight of the younger Evergreens, with Paige happily beaming back at the camera.

“I bet it was one heck of a play,” she continued, casting a glance at Leon. “Can’t believe I lucked out on seeing you parade around preaching about Neverland.” Her grin grew as she stepped back, arms crossing as if trying to picture him in a child’s rendition of Peter Pan.

“Paige’s first year and she landed Wendy, I think Jonathan wanted her to feel welcomed and special. Which meant…” his points at the plays’ designated Tinkerbell, Renee Evergreen, dressed in envious green and her face painted a blushing red. There wasn’t much acting involved on her end that year.

Swallowing as he spotted the other role, one that partly cemented his fear of Hugo Burns, was Captain Hook. Positioned directly behind Leon, towering over the campers, with an expression that spelled his distaste. “Fun year,” he half-lies, pulling back from the photographs to bend and pop the costume trunk open.

Billie’s grin softened into a gentle smile as she noticed the slight shift in Leon’s demeanor. Without hesitation, she joined him by the trunk, lowering herself to a crouch. Her elbows rested on her knees, chin propped in her palm as she studied the side of his face with quiet curiosity.

“Who’s the guy that got you all spooked out? He looked massive.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, her head tilting slightly, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes. Whatever it was, she hoped her question would coax him out of it—or at least let him know she was there if he wanted to talk.

Leon moves aside prop after prop to reach the clothing articles folded below, fingers catch on a pink sweater with rabbit ears at the top—easter bunny, he assumed—and quirks a small secret smile, picturing Billie engulfed in the oversized material with a carrot prop in her hand. Pretty. He continues to rifle through their plays’ past, spotting the cut off tags from Fancy That! tittered inside of the trunk.

“That was Hugo Burns, our groundskeeper,” he diverted his attention from the costume trunk, sinking back onto his ankles and leaving his arms draped over the trunks’ lip. “Been here as long as me.” He tried to ease back on the tightness in his voice, remembering his earlier exchange with the man as they traded flowers for a toolbox. How difficult it was to look pointedly away from the scarring on his face.

Rocking on her heels in a crouched position, Billie perked up at the mention of the groundskeeper, her fingers lightly tapping against her cheek. “Clarisse was telling me about a Hugo—that’s him?” she asked, a small oof slipping out as she bit down on her lower lip as Leon continued. Been here as long as me. “No kidding.”

Her gaze flickered to the red fabric tucked inside the trunk, what play could it be? she wondered. “But—” Billie continued with a casual shrug, nudging Leon’s shoulder with her own. Her hand instinctively shot out to steady him as he wobbled slightly, her laughter bubbling up despite her attempt to hold it back. “He seems like an absolute sweetie, doesn’t he? Can’t be all that bad.”

“Not all bad.” Leon agrees, truthful—and shakes away the sullen image of Hugo, with a bit too much blood to only belong to him. At the time, he convinced himself it was likely from the wildlife straying too close to camp, or some kind of unsanctioned hunting, but Leon didn't have the stomach to seek an answer from the man with a permanent glower. “Just, very intimidating.”

Eager to change the subject, he resumes rummaging through the trunk and finding little more than costumes too small for Billie and childish props. Dismissively shrugging, he moves to the next trunk in his crouched position and beckons her to follow. “What’d you think of Clarisse?”

Billie was painfully self-aware of how overwhelming she could be—her rapid talking, the animated gestures, and how much she lit up when engaging with someone she was particularly excited to meet. It was a habit she was trying to rein in, especially as her turn to interact with the groundskeeper loomed closer. Hope he doesn’t end up hating me. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

What’d you think of Clarisse? “Oh! She’s a lot of fun—kind of riddled with anxiety, though, from what I could tell,” she added, following Leon’s lead. Her thoughts drifted back to the morning-afternoon blur when the substitute had shown her around the farming area. “We had this little race to catch a chicken—I got my ass handed to me. Twice. By them both.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh, glancing down at her sandals. “Not my smartest choice for a first-day outfit.”

Her gaze shifted to Leon, her curiosity sparking. “What about you? Any besties? A scorned ex? You don’t seem like the type to have enemies,” she teased, her tone inviting as if eager to peel back another layer of his story. Tell me more.

Grateful Billie had managed to make a friend in Clarisse, something he almost felt compelled to thank the substitute for—don’t want her to leave anytime soon, or at all—Leon nods along, laughing as she detailed her loss to a chicken and thinking how he wouldn’t mind watching round two.

“Maybe not,” he muses, awkwardly shifting his eyes back to the task at hand after shamelessly looking over her attire for the day. Billie was surprisingly petite for how sturdy she seemed to be, losing races pushed aside. “Pretty, though. It, uh, looks good on you.”

Billie felt her features soften into a surprised expression, her lips pursing as she fought the urge to break into a wide grin. The warmth in her cheeks betrayed her effort to play it cool, and she ducked her head slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He’s being a lil charmer, aw.

“You’re sweet,” she replied softly, her voice laced with both sincerity and a hint of teasing. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, the corners crinkling with an amused sparkle as she tried to gauge if he realized just how much the compliment had landed.

At her eager questioning of his own companions, he laughs and sinks to the floor, sitting comfortably in front of the costume trunk and resting his ankles. “Levi, I told you about. Best friends since forever,” he gestures towards the photograph of the Peter Pan play again, taking note of the lost boy and vividly remembering Levi’s laugh as Leon fled backstage in a panic, frightened by Hugo’s very real performance as Captain Hook.

“Uh, I’m close with a few. Shiloh recently came back, after a long time of… living his own life, I guess. There’s Connie,” his smile returns, wavering slightly from the stinging reminder of her own relationship with Lisa, and how horribly he’d flubbed his way through Orientation. “Used to be my boating partner. Juliette, she’s—been through a lot at this camp, think she’s taking this summer as hard as the rest of us.” Leon’s voice drifts into an area of discomfort, knowing it was only the second day and Lisa’s disappearance was bound to bring up horrible reminders for those that felt Renee and Paige’s absence personally.

“Thomas. He…” he laughed, Leon shakes his head and continues on as if he hadn’t spoken Thomas’ name at all. “There’s too many to count. Scorned exes, though… Uh, last year, I was with a girl named Johan—Joey, we didn’t end all that amicably.” Broke my fucking heart, Leon smiles, tight and insincere, throwing an arm over the lip of the trunk to absently fiddle with the props inside as a wave of unease threatens to throw him off balance. “She’s hard to miss. Tiny, loud, that kinda girl.”

Settling beside him on the ground, Billie dropped to her knees, her palms finding a comfortable place on her thighs as she listened intently. Her gaze flickered briefly to the photo from earlier when Levi’s name came up, a small smile tugging at her lips at the new perspective forming in her mind as he continued on. Boating? Oh, I definitely have a new nickname for him now.

As his tone shifted, she caught the subtle dip in his mood. Without overthinking, she reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder—a silent gesture of reassurance that she hoped he’d interpret as comforting.

“That’s a bummer,” she said, giving a squeeze before drawing her hand back. “About your ex, and not being able to end on good terms.” She paused, her own experiences with messy breakups flashing through her mind. For Billie, keeping the peace was a survival tactic, a way to avoid carrying unnecessary weight on already strained shoulders.

As if to lighten the mood, she teased, her grin growing as she pulled a red robe from the trunk. Holding it against her chest, she laughed softly, realizing it was a little red hood. Tiny, loud, that kinda girl. “Is that your go-to?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Tiny, loud—people that stand out?”

Aided by Billie’s comforting touch, Leon inwardly sets aside his resentment to unpack later—or, never, if he could manage—and grins down at the costume clutched close to her chest.

“Not much shorter than me,” he muses, the thought settling as he mentally does the math on the red riding costume in her hands. About the same height as Paige. Loud was debatable, since Billie seemed to have a basic understanding of what an ‘indoor voice’ was. “Got me on one point,” he admits, lifting the red riding hood basket as he rose to his feet. “You unquestionably stand out.”

He holds out the basket for Billie to take, an inch of a checkered picnic spilling from the side as plastic fruit clatter together, and darts his eyes around as he hears people approaching the Amphitheater.


Harper swiftly stepped down the stairs of her new cabin after separating from Shiloh and Thomas, and ditching her luggage onto a bare bunk, eager to leave it behind to grab a costume from the amphitheater before all the good options were gone.

Not like there’s a variety to look forward to, she grumbled internally, firm on her belief that a camp wouldn’t carry anything remotely sexy or favorable.

The Sunspot tradition fled her memory after her cousins’ disappearances, and she was too hyperfocused on one thing to consider all the usual happenings of camp that might’ve came and went during her time away from Easthallow. And unlike now, Harper once had time to thoroughly sift through costume options with Renee as her guide—conversing about the yeses and noes of what would further flatter her figure or dim her shine.

The Evergreen may have felt the absence of her cousins, namely Renee, but she was keen on one thing: I’m not going to let you down now. Retracing her steps back toward the bridge that separated The Row from the rest of camp,—but not before casting a curious glance toward two assumed counselors chatting amongst themselves—, Harper shook her head and inwardly hummed rejection as she passed them and strided toward the direction of the amphitheater. No more chit-chat.

Lost and unsure of what she needed to do as a counsellor, Elodie grits her teeth, some Supervisor, shouldn’t I get some on-hire welcoming packet? Resolved to confront Leon about his lack of direction, she starts to track towards the Dining Hall and comes to a stuttering stop as Harper’s retreating form looms into view.

Her bottom lip dimples under the pressure of her teeth, digging into the skin with worry. They’d gotten off to a terrible start, one Elodie had the good sense to feel remorseful over—but a hopeful thread dangled before her, offering a slim chance for a do-over.

“She won’t mind,” she mumbles, doubting her own unrealistic expectations and strolling behind Harper. Kept at a safe distance, she rehearses how to start her apology—do I tell her I’m homeless and maybe even bitter? I had money and wasted it on a dream? No work ethic, at all, thankfully it’s just two weeks, right?

A lie wouldn’t be the worst thing. Elodie was no stranger to bending the truth to work in her favour, mostly to secure a place to stay for a night or two, and assuming Harper was all beauty and no brains—“Perfect. That’ll work.” Her pace speeds up, eager for the chance to test out a make-believe story about her life that would appease the girl enough for a second chance.

Zarina had gathered her things and returned to the locker room, overseeing the kids as they finished retrieving their belongings from their lockers and ushering them out for free time. She waved them off and made sure the locker room was cleaned of any trash left behind before climbing the stairs to the counselor’s room and changing back into her regular clothes, leaving her bathing suit behind in the locker to dry.

As she went to leave, she noticed the Polaroid that she and Joey had taken laying face down on the table where Joey had left it. She picked it up and smiled as she looked at the two of them in the frame, thinking about how Joey had called her cool as she pinned the picture up on the cork board. She stepped back and admired her work, eyes lingering on pictures from the past years of Joey and a redheaded girl. Is that Juliette? She’s pretty.

Zarina picked up her little backpack and slung it over her shoulder as she exited the boathouse and strolled back to the main part of camp, hoping to run into someone and still riding on the high of her newfound coolness. Now would be as good a time as any to make friends with more counselors. As she neared the center of camp, she noticed a couple of people at the Amphitheater and wondered if there was another orientation or something that she was missing. There weren’t any activities at the Amphitheater that she could remember.

She wracked her brain trying to remember the day’s schedule, but remembered Joey saying that it was free time… Surely she would have remembered an event being scheduled? Zarina was busy worrying when a duo of girls started to cross her path, seemingly headed towards the Amphitheater. Maybe there was something she was missing. With her newfound surge of cool girl confidence, Zarina approached the girl leading the way – she was intense and seemed like she knew what she was doing. “Hi! Sorry, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing something on the schedule, is there an event going on right now?” She motioned towards the stage and bit her lip, suddenly feeling awkward for even asking.

Hi! Seriously? Harper drawled out to herself internally, finding her eyelids fall closed in response to a spark of annoyance.

There seemed to be a conversation waiting for her after every turn she took once she stepped foot into camp again—her patience for them still lost after ditching Thomas and parting with Shiloh. Her childhood friend might’ve been the only exception, but those were few and far between, and as she turned to meet the face of the voice’s origin, the mask Harper often donned just for occasions like these seemed to have faltered the longer she was forced to depend on wearing it.

Still, this was one she hadn’t recognized and that always stirred her penchant of curiosity. The newcomer—assumingly—had simply asked for clarity for day two’s schedule. There’s still a chance to get rid of her.

Dissolving the darkened expression that had flared with the prior annoyance build-up, Harper shook her head in response to the girl’s question. “Not that I know of, at least,” she admitted, glancing over to the amphitheater where a crowd began to form. Might as well be though, the Evergreen hadn’t anticipated that there would be so many people looking for a costume at once as she turned her attention back to her company. “I’m just getting a costume for Truth or Dare tonight.”

Surprisingly, the tension started to dissipate the more she spoke, but the sight of Elodie’s figure advancing toward them turned her easygoing stupor into something defensive. Harper hadn’t noticed that her arms dropped from across her chest, one hand falling to a hip that naturally jutted out with the attitude she saved just for freeloaders.

Just like you, her sharpened gaze read as her head dropped to a subtle tilt. “Elodie,” her welcome was lackluster of genuinity in spite of the sing-song tone the girl’s name left her lips in. “I almost didn’t recognize you now that you aren’t staring at the floor. This is…?” Harper threw an expectant look in the brunette’s direction, expecting her to follow suit and fill in the blank.

The planned apology blips into thin air as Harper addresses her—hand frozen on the doorframe and thinking, what’s the point without connecting walls? Elodie resists the urge to squeak in surprise by the disdain dripping from the dark haired girls’ tone.

“I—yeah, um, hi,” she waves at the girl with a lip trapped between her teeth, seeming as awkward as she felt. A friend? Her eyes sneak a glance at Harper, wondering if she had managed to already speak out of turn. “Name’s Elodie. New here, if you haven’t guessed.”

For a brief moment, the girl’s mood seemed to falter and Zarina’s regret about sparking up a conversation with her grew. She should have known that riding the high of being called cool would only carry her so far when she ultimately wasn’t. Still, she tried not to let her insecurity dampen her mood much as the girl continued on to answer her question.

A costume? Her cheeks flushed. Was she supposed to have one? Though she was a chronic over packer, she hadn’t brought anything that could be considered a costume. Her suitcase was mostly full of extra clothes in case she got wet or too dirty but her shorts could only carry her so far, unless she was planning on dressing up as herself. Why hadn’t someone told her before now? She was sure she could’ve come up with something great…

Before Zarina could voice her question, the blonde that had been trailing behind her conversation partner closed the gap and the attention was turned towards her once again.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Zarina! I’m new, too.” she nodded in Elodie’s direction pleasantly as they each introduced themselves, thankful she had an ally for now. Did she know anything about the costumes? “Elodie is such a pretty name.” Zarina quickly glanced back at the so far unnamed girl as she twisted her quickly drying hair around one of her fingers, following the duo as they walked. “What were you saying about a costume?”

They’re both new, Harper acknowledged their short introductions with waning disinterest, and only chimed in when Zarina had asked about the need for costumes again.

Elodie takes notice of the sudden flush colouring Zarina’s cheeks following their introduction, the city native understanding her confusion, I know, this camp just throws us into the deep end.

Slowing her pace, feeling far more comfortable beside Zarina than trailing after Harper like a lost puppy, she drops her voice conspiratorially. “Didn’t know either. Clearly lacking some signs around here,” she offers with a reassuring smile, and eyes widening as she realises—“Call me Ellie, by the way. You, um,” she takes notice of damp hair curling around Zarina’s finger. “Went for a quick dip or is swimming, like, your job?”

Oh thank god, Zarina thought as Elodie spoke, glad to not be the only one in the dark about this whole costume business. Still, if they’d needed a costume for some reason, why hadn’t they been told ahead of time? She leaned in to join Elodie – or Ellie, as she’d mentioned – covertly, thinking about the other things the camp had been lacking.

“Seems like it. Ellie, got it – that’s pretty, too.”

At Elodie’s question, Zarina glanced down at her hair twisting around her finger, attention drawn towards her nervous habit. She let go of her hair and dropped her hand by her side as she nodded. “Um, my job, actually! Lifeguarding.”

While closing the short distance between them and the variety of trunks she was looking for, the Evergreen stepped past the doorframe and answered—pausing briefly once she laid eyes on the others who beat them. Great.

“It’s tradition at the Sunspot. We dress up. We drink,” Harper shrugged nonchalantly before throwing a look back toward the other counselors, uncaring that they were caught up in their own conversation now to stop at their own convenience. Part of her caught the tail end of the blonde’s conspiratorial lean-in, but decided to let her get away with the mumble with narrowed eyes.

You can pay for that tonight, she filed for later, instead choosing to continue with a swift wave of her hand towards the trunks. “If you don’t have one, you can pick something from there. Just—don’t count on anything sexy. They’re all from past plays.”

Zarina’s attention turned back towards the dark-haired girl as she spoke, remembering the earlier announcement about the Sunspot. Oh, it made sense – it was like a party. She didn’t know how enthused about the drinking she was, but it would be an opportunity to mingle and it would be her first big American party. It would be a good way to start off the summer, and her time here, if the dark cloud of a missing counselor wasn’t hanging over the camp.

“Oh, that sounds like fun!”

What kinds of costumes were these counselors wearing, she wondered? Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to put something new together herself – she was drained and couldn’t think of a single recognizable costume. Sexy? Zarina’s thoughts mirrored the girl’s words. Does it have to be? She didn’t want to be boring, but showing too much skin made her nervous. She’d rather just wear something cute.


Ezzy was still cleansing the Ricky encounter from his memory as he marched back towards the cabins, doing his best not to think about it, but the only other thing that his mind could latch onto was the disappearances. Lisa. Paige. She who shall not be named. It was all he could ever think about lately.

Ezzy could feel himself fraying, the near decade he’d spent sewing all the pieces of himself back together starting to come undone in the span of a few days. Part of him was afraid, seeing how little it took to pull the rug out from under his feet. Another part of him embraced the feeling. It was familiar; comforting. Easy to give into, like indulging a bad habit.

He was sure that there was something he was supposed to be doing now, though he couldn’t put his finger on what. He told himself that it couldn’t have been that important if he forgot but he also knew that that was entirely untrue. He forgot important things all the time. His mother used to say that he would miss his own funeral if he didn’t watch it.

His feet took him towards the cabins—off some hunch that that might be it or on muscle memory alone. Didn’t matter. He ended up catching sight of Miriam leaving her cabin and one piece of the puzzle fell into place. They’d had a conversation earlier or yesterday about meeting up for something.

“Miriam,” he called as he got closer, jogging a little to close the distance between them faster and slowing down once he was close enough. “We’re supposed to be doing something.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair in slight exasperation, though it was directed inward rather than at Miriam. “Any idea what?”

Miriam had been having a delightfully peaceful nap, having woken up in what she hoped was time to attend the plans that she and Ezzy had laid out. She had no idea that such a tradition as a costumed Truth or Dare game existed, and she was a bit intrigued (though she masked this with a sort of sardonic disdain). She couldn’t say that she was honestly looking forward to it, but she also couldn’t say that she wasn’t interested in the drama that sort of thing would bring. Maybe I’ll dress as normie. She smirked.

After she had awoken, it hadn’t taken long for Ezzy to spot her as she was exiting her cabin, spotting his bleach blond hair instantly, lips turning up into a smile. She gave a sort of nonchalant wave as he neared her, then snorted as he spoke, clearly confused. God, he has the memory of a goldfish sometimes. Though if she were honest, something seemed a bit off about him. No doubt due to the disappearances. As much as she wanted to just bring it up and clear the air, she decided that perhaps now was not the time.

“You told me that we should go find some costumes for tonight, remember?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Since apparently dressing up and playing a high school game is a camp tradition.” She placed a hand on her hip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She looked at Ezzy expectantly, waiting for his face to light up in remembrance with her explanation.

Ezzy did exactly as expected, his mouth forming a small “o” as realization washed over him. Right. The costumes. He was glad she had told him. He never would have guessed that. Costumes were the very last thing on his mind, shoved right beside the stupid truth or dare. In Ezzy’s humble opinion, the tinfoil lining of the disappearances should have been skipping the cursed game altogether given that Renee wasn’t there to lead it anymore, but old habits died hard, he supposed.

His face broke into a smile and he snort laughed as Miriam went on. He had forgotten that this was her first time at Evergreen. For a moment, he wondered what this shit show must look like to an outsider.

"What do you mean? You don't want to relive high school?” Ezzy asked, placing a hand over his heart in mock disbelief and giving her an incredulous look. He dropped the act after only a few seconds, rolling his eyes to express that the disappointment was mutual. “If it helps, I also think it’s dumb,” he added with far more sincerity. “But it’s part of the job.” Ezzy paused and suddenly looked away to stare into the trees, a completely different realization dawning on him.

“We’re being paid like 10k to play truth or dare.” He snort laughed again at his own observation, a spacy, lopsided smile on his face as he reeled himself back to reality and met Miriam’s gaze again. “Isn’t that so funny?”

He turned in the direction of the amphitheatre, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that his friend was following along.

“Any million dollar costume ideas?”

Miriam snorted at the comment about reliving high school, certain that was an experience neither party was itching to repeat. It had been shitty enough the first time for both of them. She was reassured that he agreed with her thoughts about the game being dumb. Maybe they could laugh about it at the edge of the circle, putting their heads together while they quietly made fun of the others.

It was almost laughable that they were being paid to play truth or dare, especially at a summer camp where three girls had gone missing in the past year. If she had told herself that she would be in this position a year ago, she wouldn’t believe it.

“When you put it like that, it sounds crazy,” she agreed with a smile, chuckling. “I have no idea what to go as. Maybe a cat or something?” She shrugged, not caring if it wasn’t an imaginative idea.

Ezzy could name quite a few things that had happened at Evergreen that qualified as crazy, least of which was the obscene paycheck at the end, but he figured Miriam would find out about all of that during truth or dare. Or sooner.

“Come ooon,” he said in mock disapproval but genuine affection, elbowing her lightly. Ezzy had always loved dress-up and playing pretend as a kid—and as an adult too, admittedly, for halloween in particular. “Dressing up is the fun part. Doesn’t have to be a lot of work. You could be like…” he paused for a moment, trying to come up with something better. “The goth girl from any cartoon,” he suggested, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched his feet to make sure he didn’t trip or misstep. “Or catwoman. She’s kind of goth, I guess. Cat but you can say you put a lot of thought into it. It’s all about how you sell it.”

Miriam smiled affectionately at his enthusiasm, rolling her eyes. “If I’m going to put a lot of effort into it, I might as well be Morticia Addams or Elvira or something.” Though she wasn’t sure other people would even know who she was being, at least if she went the Elvira route. She didn’t mind dressing up, and in true goth fashion, Halloween was her favorite holiday, but she didn’t exactly feel enthused about dressing up for such a game. But she had to admit that Ezzy’s excitement was contagious; maybe she could try at least a little.

“But if I can’t find anything suitable for something like that, I’m going with a cat. Or a fallen angel, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

Ezzy shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked and nodded along approvingly. He did agree that the tradition was dumb but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun with it. Ezzy still wasn’t sure what he was going to be, choosing to wait until he saw his options and could let the inspiration hit him.

“Those are all good ones,” he said supportively. “Fallen angel could be cool with the wings and everything. Still goth too. You don’t have to put a whole lot of effort into it. If this year’s truth or dare goes anything like last year’s no one’s gonna be focusing on costumes.” Ezzy had avoided and evaded getting roped into any of the drama the year before. Hopefully, he could manage to do the same this time around.

Miriam quirked an eyebrow at the drama comment, instantly curious. She loved watching drama play out from a distance, but wasn’t a fan of actually being involved, however combative she may be at times. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so boring after all. She wasn’t involved with any of these people, so hopefully she could just watch from a safe distance.

“Well, you know how much I love low effort, high levels of slay in a costume,” Miriam agreed. Though she did have to admit that she spent a fair amount of time on her hair and makeup. She really did care about her appearance, after all, and all of her friends. “I guess we’ll have to see what they have there.”

“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” Ezzy said with a smile. Miriam would be able to whip something up, and his last statement still stood about the fact that no one was going to be concerned about costumes. Or that Miram could basically go as herself and pass it off as Elvira if she wanted to.

Ezzy brightened as the amphitheater came into view, noticing that quite a few people were already there. They were still too far to pick out any faces for sure.

“Damn. Guess everyone had the same idea, huh?”

Miriam frowned, studying the crowd growing in the area. Great. Now she would have to be around so many people just to find a costume for this stupid gathering. “Seems that way.”

She studied the group to see if she by chance knew any of them and came up dry, though with their approach, people’s faces were still coming into view. Well, at least that gave her a decent excuse not to greet any of them. Though knowing her more friendly companion, she wondered if she would get dragged into it anyway. “Well, might as well bite the bullet and head over, then.” She had only paused briefly in walking and so continued at a slightly faster pace, eager to get this over with.

As they got closer, Miriam realized with relief that she truly hadn’t recognized anyone except the camp leader guy, Liam? Or whatever his name was. She’d already forgotten. God, maybe her memory was just as bad as Ezzy’s. Oh well. Time to start looking for a costume.


After leaving Eva’s office, Rowan felt relieved to no longer be in possession of his strange discovery. He followed Ricky down the Lodge steps and towards the Amphitheater stage, where it seemed the numbers had begun to grow during their brief excursion in the lodge. He began to regret his choices – now it seemed he would have to interact with what seemed like a third of the camp.

Including Leon, he thought bitterly as he spotted the supervisor digging through a trunk with a counselor he’d never seen before. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive Leon for the way he’d handled this morning, but tried to tamp down his spiking irritation. It’s not Leon’s fault that Lisa isn’t here…

He glanced at Ricky in his periphery and wondered if he could bail before they reached the bottom of the amphitheater when he saw the one and only Harper Evergreen leaving its stage through the standalone doorframe, two more new counselors in tow. Rowan was surprised at the Evergreen’s appearance, but the hopeful distraction it would provide from the rest of the day was extremely welcome.

He hopped over each bench, down to the stage with Ricky in tow and skirted around the wooden divider wall to the backstage, forgoing the use of the door. Being back here felt so strange after everything, the memories held in each trunk taunted him and he didn’t know if he was ready for a walk down Nostalgia Lane. Though he’d only been in a couple of performances in his time (begrudgingly, or so he’d say), Paige had graced the Camp Evergreen stage many times.

As he crossed behind the wall, he tried to avoid looking at the pictures, but his eyes landed on a photo of little camper Paige smiling and waving at the camera, and an unexpected wave of grief hit him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he motioned Ricky towards the trunks. “Take your pick.”

Ricky glanced at Rowan, noting the shift in demeanor as they passed photos of some of the counselors and campers, quickly looking away from Rowan and the photo of Paige in an attempt to give Rowan some privacy. He instead focused his attention on the trunks, trying not to think about all of the people who were currently in view, especially not Ezzy. Hopefully the other guy wouldn’t even notice that he was here. Just about everyone else he was either friends with or simply didn’t know that well. Wow, there were actually quite a few newbies hanging out here. Guess that makes sense. They wouldn’t know the camp traditions yet.

He glanced at the options of trunks around them, Ricky simply picked the closest one and opened it. “Let’s see what this one has.” It’d been a while since he’d done any acting, on stage or otherwise, and the memories of it came flooding back as he took in the mass of costumes shoved into the trunk, methodically combing through the options. He saw a few pirate costumes, a frog costume, several dresses, a pair of butterfly wings, and a top hat, which he jokingly put on, grinning at Rowan.

“How do you do, good sir?” he asked in his best British accent (which was, admittedly, quite bad). He tipped the top hat at Rowan cheesily, hoping to get his friend’s spirits up a bit at the silly display.

Rowan didn’t want to dwell on the wall of pictures, not yet ready to face them, and followed Ricky to the trunk to watch over his shoulder while he did the deep diving in the trunk. Costumes flashed by – some, he could place the show, but most were foggy in his memory, if there at all.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at Ricky’s joke, laughing as he tipped the hat towards him. Rowan bowed jokingly back towards Ricky and replied in an equally bad, awkward British accent, “Jolly good, sir!”

He laughed at the corniness, but was glad his friend was joking with him – after this morning, he’d needed the relief more than he’d realized and it helped release knots in his stomach he hadn’t even realized were there. Rowan stood from his bow and stretched his arms out to release more tension before turning back to the trunk. He picked up a stray eyepatch from one of the pirate costumes and held it up to one of his eyes, “I guess I could be a pirate if Levi comes back with something lame.” Hopefully he won’t.

Ricky grinned, glad that Rowan was joking along with him. It felt good to see his friend happy after the day he’d had. Well, more like the year he’d had. As his friend continued, looking for a costume himself, Ricky chuckled. “Well, pirate’s not the worst costume,” he said with a shrug, remembering his first year as counselor where he’d had the brilliant idea of going as peanut butter and jelly with his friend who hadn’t shown up. No one had really gotten his peanut butter costume without the guy, and it had made him feel a bit awkward the whole night.

“But let’s see if we can’t find something a bit better.” He continued to dig through the costumes in the pile, more dresses and boot covers and vests spilling out of the trunk. Whoever had put them in there really shoved everything as tight as possible. At last he fished out some devil horns and angel halo. “These look promising,” he commented, holding them out for Rowan to see. “What do you think? Angel or devil?” He grinned.

Rowan shook his head, tossing the eyepatch back into the trunk and watched while Ricky kept digging, the seemingly endlessly stuffed trunk relenting a treasure trove of different costume pieces. He’d definitely had worse costumes, including a particularly itchy crayon costume that Riley had somehow convinced him to wear. At least pirates had some dignity.

He watched as Ricky pulled out some headband options and he considered them for a moment before grabbing them from his friend and holding each one up and squinting to see how they looked before tossing Ricky back the devil horns.

“I think you should go with these – gotta keep everyone on their toes,” he laughed – Ricky was already such an angel, the halo felt a little too on the nose. Rowan wasn’t one though, and the irony wasn’t lost on him as he donned the halo himself and pointed at it. “What do you think? We could match.”

Ricky grinned at the comment, catching the horns and turning them around in his hands before placing them on his head so he didn’t forget about them. Chances were he would still forget, but at least he would walk out with the costume pieces he needed. Surely there was something to match the horns in this mess of costumes. At Rowan’s suggestion, Ricky looked back up with another smile. “Hell yeah! That would be awesome.”


Unlike Miriam, Ezzy knew quite a few of the people at the theatre. As they approached, he picked out faces—Zarina, who he had only seen around, Leon, Harper, Rowan... Ricky....

That was unfortunate. Ezzy still hadn't finished scrubbing out his memory from their earlier interaction. He was sure Miriam would understand why he would want to steer clear without needing an explanation. She knew the gist of Ezzy and Ricky's sordid past, having witnessed the aftermath of their high school break up in the flesh. He knew he would have to face Ricky on a daily basis. He was expecting it. Braced for it. The face he was not braced to see was—

"Billie?" he said out loud without meaning to, stopping in his tracks as a mortifying shock set in. He leapt into action quickly enough though, grabbing Miriam's shoulders and ducking behind her, which was useless given that he was a good deal taller and simply bigger, but if he was lucky, Billie might not have spotted him yet and he could buy himself a few more moments to process things. Ezzy wasn’t unhappy to see her. It didn’t feel right saying he was happy either. He wasn’t sure what to think, his mind already a mess before unexpectedly running into his ex, never mind after.

"Hide me," he insisted, peering over Miriam's shoulder to double check that his eyes did not deceive him.

Miriam blinked, watching Ezzy attempt to hide behind her smaller figure with a barely contained laugh bubbling up in her throat. He had to know it was futile, but of course that hadn’t stopped him before. And she could guess that it was not exactly fun to run into someone you didn’t want to see unexpectedly. She did her best to widen her stance and shield Ezzy, though she knew that it probably didn’t do much.

“I’ll do my best,” she replied sardonically with a little smirk. “But you gotta face her at some point.” Ironic, considering Miriam likely would have done the same thing in his position.

You unquestionably stand out. The newcomer didn’t falter, but something in Leon’s honesty made her face soften instinctively. She took a small step closer—only for a sudden shout to pull her attention away.

Someone called her name. Billie raised a brow at Leon, face puzzled before turning to look—only to realize they were no longer alone. Oh! Two people stood further down to their left, and she let out a soft laugh of disbelief. Our luck, huh?

Turning back to Leon with an unfazed grin, she tilted her head slightly to the side, curled pieces following suit with the motion. “Distracting, you,” she teasingly quipped, amusement dancing behind her eyes as her fingers curled around the handle of the offered basket, brushing against his hand. Can’t believe I didn’t hear anyone come up.

With a wink, she spun on her heel, the fabric of her costume fluttering against her chest as she did a little twirl to display her fit for tonight. “Come on, sailor, let’s go mingle. Besides—” She smirked, taking a step back while offering her hand out for him to grab hold of. “Got myself a costume.”

Counsellor’s filed into the Amphitheater with the same idea in mind to try their luck for a quick costume and skip the burdensome journey—or ruining the illusion of a secluded campground—into Easthallow for the next cheapest option. Leon throws a wave to both Rowan and Ricky as they navigate the trunks he had thoroughly rifled through for Billie, a sharp stab of guilt slicing through him when Rowan searched the photo’s lining the wall, where Paige Evergreen featured in most.

He’s lost Lisa, too, his gaze drops awkwardly, knowing an apology would be misplaced and serve nothing—he couldn’t bring Lisa back, or Paige.

Living in the reality of his thoughts, mulling over ways to fix the further damage he caused with the delivery of orientation, Billie’s name being called slices through the mess. His head snaps towards the sound of her name, noticing Ezzy failing to use Miriam as a human shield, plunging his mind into confusion. Huh?

Billie is spinning around, the red and black fabric flowing in her path, distracting him as she encourages them to mingle, hand held out. It was a thoughtless decision to slide his palm into hers, second nature almost, his eyes trained over the top of her head at the sports duo—a top hat fastened onto Ricky’s head, and a halo hovering above Rowan’s.

“Uh, yeah. Let me introduce you,” he says, mildly distracted by Ezzy’s display, and gently pulls her into step. Stopping a reasonable distance from them, he gestures with a shake of his head in greeting and a smirk fastens into place at the matching counterpart to Rowan’s halo, amused by the clear mix-up in costumes. “Ricky, horns? Is this a ‘better the devil you know’ kinda deal?”

Tightening his grasp on Billie’s hand, he glances back at her, “this is Billie, new counsellor for, uh—” he clears his throat, awkward as he realised this might be a blunder of a decision, “farming.” Rowan’s quick temper was a simple known fact, rivalling Levi’s own—but the resident hot head had far less tact wrestling himself into a place of civility once set off. He only hoped Lisa’s absence wouldn’t be placed on Billie’s shoulders.

Rowan grinned at Ricky as he adjusted the uncomfortable halo headband on his head – it was made for a slightly smaller head, the ends of the headband digging into the skin near his temples. If he wore this to the Sunspot tonight, he was sure he’d have a headache in the first twenty minutes. As he was messing with the halo, he noticed Leon walking over and his smile faltered a bit.

Be nice. He glanced over at the new counselor Leon was tugging along, clearly already familiar with her. Interesting. As Leon introduced her, Rowan winced a bit at the mention of farming and he glanced away from Billie. As his annoyance spiked, the easy posture Rowan had maintained with Ricky stiffened and he anxiously dug the toe of his sneaker into the ground. It’s not her fault, yet the familiarity between her and Leon didn’t help his irritation – who even was this girl, and how could they replace Lisa like that?

As Billie approached the two, she offered a wave, easily falling into step beside Leon. Her smile was warm—effortless—but she didn’t miss the way his grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. A quiet signal. Her posture straightened instinctively, fingers tightening around his in return. Her gaze flickered between the two with quiet curiosity, already wondering—which one?

“Nice to meet you guys,” she said smoothly, keeping her tone light, not wanting to overstep at the mention of her replacing Lisa.

Billie? Leon huffs suddenly, unable to ignore it, and tilts his head down to Billie. “Hey, you know him?” He nods towards where Ezzy still stands by Miriam. His brows are pulled together with a mix of confusion and another emotion he knew was hardly justified, refusing to name it.

“Hm?” Billie blinked, tearing her gaze away from the halo resting atop who she assumed was Rowan. When she turned, she caught the flicker of confusion itching across Leon’s face. You know him? “Who?” she asked, glancing around again—until she realized he was looking up the hill. Following his line of sight, she squinted against the stubborn sunlight, only for her blood to run cold at the sight of Miriam. A frown cracked through her expression—oh shit, not her.

But before the weight of it could settle, her eyes landed on something else. A shock of bleached blondish-white hair, and her frown broke into a surprised laugh. “Ezzy? No way! Is that you?” she called out, letting go of the hand to shield her eyes with her palm, the costume still draped over her other arm.

Turning back to Leon, she flashed him a dimpled smile, a casual shrug rolling off her shoulders. “He’s an ex. Had no clue this is where he ended up, though.”

Ezzy let go of Miriam, accepting his fate and giving up as everyone seemed to converge at once, though, as he stepped out from behind his human shield and saw Billie’s face, his apprehension melted into relief.

He wasn’t sure what he was worried about. Maybe he was just caught off guard—nervous that things would be awkward after how badly his last interaction with Ricky had gone and even more nervous about the fact that Ricky was right there. The idea of Ricky and Billie meeting still made his head spin a little, but of course things were fine. It was Billie. Dimple-smiled Billie who looked happy to see him if anything.

Ezzy let his own face break into a lopsided smile and chased the tension from his shoulders.

“It’s me, in the flesh,” he confirmed, instinctively stepping forward to give Billie a good-natured hug before he even realized what he was doing. It would have felt odd not to. Ezzy was glad to see her, however weird the circumstances. “What on Earth are you doing here?” he asked, his tone a mixture of amusement and surprise.

Billie accepted the hug, finishing it off with a lighthearted pat before stepping back. She offered Ezzy an easygoing smile, sensing his nerves. She felt a little—okay, this is awkward—but acting like a bitter ex wouldn’t do anyone any favors. Besides, that wasn’t her style.

“Me? What about you?” She dropped a hand to her hip, raising a curious brow. “You could’ve told me about this place sooner! But I saw some flyers around Easthallow about a job, so...figured I’d check it out. And voilà!”

Ezzy rubbed the back of his neck with one hand sheepishly, doing his best to smooth over the last off his nerves. He resisted the urge to tell her that this place was not all it was cracked up to be. Billie was already here. She’d find out soon enough.

He snorted lightly in amusement.

“It’s a pretty sweet deal.” That, he could admit. Evergreen could be a hellscape but it was worth it. “I’ve been coming to Evergreen since I was a kid. Locked in fore life,” he joked. He hesitated, glancing around a little awkwardly before deciding to just say what he felt, offering an easy smile “It’s good to have you here, Billie.”

“Since a kid?” Billie’s eyes brightened with curiosity as she glanced around the area again, trying to picture what it must have been like back then—what it would’ve been like to be here as a camper.

Could’ve met Leon sooner. Wouldn’t that have been adorable? A quiet, amused smirk tugged at her lips before she lifted a hand to cover it, smoothing the expression into something softer. It’s good to have you here. “Thanks, Ezzy.” Her voice was warm as she shifted, a little awkward, rubbing at her elbow. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” A pause, then, more hesitantly— “Still friends?”

Ezzy wasn’t sure what to make of the amused smirk, but didn’t dwell on it long. It was a weight off his mind, hearing Billie say out loud what he knew was true but was too chicken to ask about earlier. Things were fine. Of course they were.

“I would never,” he declared, dramatically putting a hand over his heart to emphasize it. “Still friends.”

Ricky’s smile fell at Billie’s mention of Ezzy. So this was his ex, huh? She was pretty. Really pretty. She seemed nice too, and Leon had clearly already taken a liking to her. In other circumstances, Ricky could easily see himself liking Billie, but the thought of her with Ezzy wouldn’t leave his mind, souring her presence. He glanced at Leon, raising an eyebrow. Did you know this? his gaze seemed to ask.

It’s good to have you here. It was a normal thing to say, but Ricky couldn’t help the tinge of jealousy that flared up at the words. What was he doing? He wasn’t a jealous person. Almost as if to remind Billie and Ezzy of his presence, he decided to greet Ezzy’s ex. He could play nice.

“Nice to meet you, Billie,” he said, forcing a smile back onto his face. The joy and camaraderie he’d felt earlier with Rowan was gone, replaced smoothly by the cheerful mask he used when he was upset. But he really shouldn’t be upset, should he? After all, he and Connie were still friends, and Ezzy was a decent sport about that, so why shouldn't he be a good sport too? It wasn’t like the two of them would ever get back together or anything. But the reminder in the shape of a friendly girl, well, it hurt. And the cherry on top, it seemed he couldn’t avoid Ezzy either.

Ezzy resisted the urge to glance at Ricky and search for signs of how he felt about the situation. It didn’t matter, he told himself. Keep focused. Talk to Billie. Don’t look. Just don’t look. Despite his best efforts, out of the corner of his eye, Ezzy noticed Leon exchange a glance with Ricky, and at that, a weirded-out expression flickered across his face.

That didn’t make sense.

Leon wasn’t one of Ezzy’s ex’s. Not that he knew of anyway. Why was he acting strange? Whatever. Ezzy shoved the thought away, keeping his gaze on Billie and ignoring the rest. He could look into that later.

Leon’s stomach drops, further when she releases his hand to get a better look at Ezzy—he’s an ex. “Oh… that’s swell.” An uneasy and very much forced smile replaces his earlier confusion, sliding his attention to Ezzy and trying not to picture her hand in his. A failure, obviously.

As a crooked smile falls onto Ezzy’s face, following a hug between the two, Leon averts his eyes only to catch Ricky’s raised brow, the question in his eyes, that Leon realises he’s not alone in his bubble of unjustified jealousy. He wasn’t sure what the question was, but the supervisor shakes his head in response and crosses his arms, a weak attempt to guard the feelings he already developed for her.

Relax. I have an ex here. I’m currently seeing someone, even unofficially. More feeble attempts to quieten his haste to jump to defensive standpoints, mulling over how he’d done it again, rushed headfirst only to ram into a damn wall. He could picture Joey now, shrugging a shoulder with a pointed look, her expression saying see, it’s your fault.

Sensing the tension thickening, Billie felt her anxiety peak. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, forcing out a light laugh as she waved at Ricky, finally putting a face to the man she’d heard so much about from Ezzy—always in fond stories, from what she could remember.

“Wow,” she breathed, her mouth moving faster than her brain. “Feels like we’ve got a bit of an awkward circle going on here.”

Ricky, again, proves he’s a better man than him, introducing himself to Billie with a cheerful smile. Leon has to tear his attention from Ezzy before his own attempt at remaining neutral morphs into the scowl threatening to take over. Instead, he takes a measured step backwards and looks over the wall of photos in search of a distraction, gesturing awkwardly as he attempts to make casual conversation, “Halo looks good, Rowan. There a pair of wings to match?”

Billie snuck a glance at Leon, bright eyes flickering with mild amusement, before boldly reaching out to catch his wrist—don’t be jealous, she hoped the touch would say. Then, just as quickly, she let go, careful not to overstep.

Her touch offered some comfort to the mounting inadequacy Leon suddenly felt. He knew that was for him to deal with, and not her, so his arm snakes backwards in search of her hand, pulling her an inch closer as he continued to address Rowan.

Ricky noted the quick touch that Billie gave Leon, the newfound jealousy that turned his stomach melting a bit at the gesture. Due to their closeness, it seemed like there could be something going on there, or maybe he just wanted to assume that instead of worrying that Billie was still hung up on Ezzy–or worse, the other way around. He wasn’t normally a jealous person, but something about this situation irritated him. He did his best not to let it show on his face, though. Most people wouldn’t be able to notice the little cracks in his pleasant façade, such as the tick in his jaw as he glanced away before looking over to Rowan, avoiding Ezzy’s gaze.

Ezzy didn’t notice Leon and Billie’s touch, mostly because he was too busy trying to stealthily catch sight of what Ricky was doing and feeling and coming up empty handed. It felt strange to see Ricky and Billie interact, part of him compulsively wanting to get them both away from each other. When he’d spoken to Billie quite a lot about Ricky, he never expected they’d meet. Not that he said anything particularly bad about Ricky… It was simply adding to the weirdness of the day.

Rowan nodded as Billie greeted them, his smile terse as Ricky exchanged pleasantries with her, and glanced over his shoulder at the mention of Ezzy, the blonde approaching with some goth looking girl he hadn’t seen before. Good, this keeps getting better. As he turned to catch a glimpse of Ezzy, his eyes also landed on Harper Evergreen, standing nearby. His attention was torn back when Leon addressed him and he turned back towards the man.

“Hm? Oh, thanks.” he took off the halo, relief surging to his temples where the headband had been digging in. “There probably is, but I doubt I’ll wear them. Levi’s supposed to be grabbing me something.”

Can’t catch a break today, Leon might’ve laughed at the situation if his stomach wasn’t twisted into a permanent knot, the mention of Levi doing little to unravel the bundle of emotion. “Keep the halo on standby, Levi thinks he’s hilarious,” a small chuckle slips out, lacking the usual depth.

“Plus, it never hurts to have a backup plan,” Ricky agreed, taking off the devil horns and holding them as well, feeling a bit dorky to be the only one dressed up. He had to get involved in the conversation or he was going to fixate on Billie and Ezzy, and the awkwardness of the situation.

“That, too,” Leon emphasises with a downwards point of his finger, punctuating the word. “Drinking tonight, Ricky?” It was always on the agenda for him, this summer especially, and while Billie’s hand in his began to slowly ebb away the uncertainty, some drinks would serve as a nice band-aid.

Ricky thought for a moment before nodding. After the day I’ve had, I could really use a drink. And I’m sure most of the others could say the same. “Yeah, why not?” He gave Leon a small smile. He usually drank at truth or dare, and he sometimes drank at other times during camp, but it was never guaranteed. He really could be a nerd about his physical fitness at times. Tonight, though, he just needed a break, and he was sure the others did as well.

“That’s true,” Rowan replied to Leon’s statement about Levi. He thought about the irony in showing up wearing the halo as he inspected it, the fuzzy white feathers smushed from its storage in the trunk. Wearing an angel costume to a camp party when your girlfriend and one of your best friends were missing, fate unknown? He wasn’t sure if he’d want to do that, even if Levi decided to be particularly funny when selecting his costume.

He glanced over at Ricky when Leon asked if he was drinking, unsure about the answer for himself. Normally, he’d be all for it, but with everything going on… with what happened last summer, should he even consider it? Then again, did he have much else to lose? “Who’s in charge of drinks this year?”

Leon pauses, following the lapse with a shrug. Oh. The responsibility of drinks fell to him and Renee, used to finding her waiting for him at the end of his boating lesson with arms crossed and tapping her foot, impatience written throughout her stance. With no expectant look to watch out for today, he twists his mouth into a half-smile.

“Levi might grab some drinks while he’s out,” he responds, half-hoping he won’t have to rush down the trail for last minute preparations or leave dinner early. “If not, we can get a group to head down and pick some up after dinner.”

Billie’s mood lifted the longer Leon’s hand rested in hers, her fingers absentmindedly tracing little circles against his skin. She half listened to the conversation, content in the silence between them, until the mention of drinks caught her attention.

“Oh?” She straightened, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder before turning to Leon with a mischievous glint in her eyes, immensely perking up. “Drinking? Is this for Truth or Dare tonight?” With a playful nudge of her shoulder against his, she lowered her voice just for him, “do you drink?”

“It’s sort of tradition around here for Truth or Dare,” he allows himself to regard her properly, and not be so overruled by his anxiety over whatever pleasant past Billie may have had with Ezzy. Do you drink? More than I should. “Occasionally,” Leon chuckles, tugging on their linked hands in response to her teasing nudge. “You?”

“Really?” Billie perked up at the opportunity to see him in action as a supervisor. With a brightness in her eye, she asked, “What if…some kids were sneaking around late? That’s what I would’ve done.”

She responded easily to the tug on her hand, letting him guide her without resistance—the material of her Red Riding Hood costume shifting in the crook of her arm. You? “Fuck yeah,” she answered without hesitation. “Not a lightweight, by the way.” A grin spread out on her lips as she tilted her head, giving him a once-over. “…You seem like the type, though.”

“We have Truth or Dare on the second night for that reason,” he explains, wanting to be shameless about their curriculum at camp but failing, his expression turning sheepish. “Campers are exhausted after so much physical activity on the first day. It’s only once in a blue moon when a kid leaves their cabin in the middle of the night, usually further on in the week.”

With both hands occupied, Billie swayed her body in a no motion, a laugh spilling free. “Easy, Captain, I’m not complaining about free drinks.” Honestly, it made sense. If Truth or Dare had been around long enough to earn an official title, then she figured everyone knew exactly what they were getting into.

“Sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun. Or…trouble?” She shot him a humorous look before adding, “hopefully, you don’t have any enemies.”

Her good-natured dig about him being a lightweight draws out a genuine laugh and a crooked smile. “Not at all. My problem is I don’t know when to stop drinking.” He intends to drop her hand and give her a playful shove away, but instead squeezes her hand. “Trust, I can keep up.”

Billie’s expression softened at the sound of his laugh, a warmth blooming in her chest. Was she actually improving his mood? The realization sent a small swoop through her stomach.

Storing away everything she’d just learned, she returned the gentle squeeze, her lips twitching at the thought—dork. “I have no doubts,” she murmured, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.

As the others continued to talk, Ricky decided that he needed to finish getting his costume soon–not at all because it was a reason to avoid having to further interact with Ezzy and Billie–and gave a quick goodbye to the group before taking off. “I gotta hurry up and find some other stuff to match these horns,” he announced to anyone still listening before going back to hunting through the trunks. He felt it to be rude to just disappear completely on everyone else, so this seemed to be the best solution in his mind. Luckily, he was able to hunt down a matching red cape and a pitchfork. Wonder when these were ever used.

Meanwhile, Miriam had been watching the whole exchange off to the side, not wanting to involve herself in the drama. She didn’t really want to put herself in the middle of the obvious tension, so she just watched the gossip happen in front of her eyes. She would definitely have to debrief with Ezzy about this later.

Ezzy had, admittedly, forgotten Miriam was there, caught up in the whole awkwardness of the situation.

“Oh,” he added hurriedly, realizing his manners were lacking. It was also a relief to be able to direct the conversation away from everything and to something more normal like introducing a friend to Billie. “This is Miriam, she’s new here too,” he said, shooting Miriam an apologetic look for having her roped into this with no context.

Miriam caught his look with one of her own, more curious than annoyed. You need to tell me what’s going on later. Her gaze swung to Billie, frowning as she took in the girl who had been so weird earlier. “We’ve met.” She wasn’t overly hostile, but she wasn’t going to throw on a happy face and pretend they were all friends either.

The sound of Ezzy’s voice pulled Billie’s attention away from the conversation, but the name he mentioned made her frown—just for a split second. She smoothed it over quickly, replacing it with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, we’ve, um, met!” She nodded along, her hands dropping to clasp in front of her as she rocked slightly on her heel. “This morning. Same cabin.”

Ezzy felt like face palming. It wasn’t hard to read the incredibly awkward vibes between the two of them. What were the chances Miriam and Billie had somehow established a less than positive relationship within the two days they’d met? He supposed he’d walked right into that one.

“Ah,” he said in a poor attempt to stall, returning Miriam’s look for a second time. They would both have to debrief after this. What else had he missed, his head in the clouds? The only other conversation happening nearby was one with Ricky. Ezzy was not keen on jumping on that but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“We definitely need to have drinks this year,” he said, half to himself.

Ezzy took his leave after that, escaping the awkwardness of it all by finding a costume trunk a little ways away and digging through it. It was as good an excuse as any considering that’s what they’d come to do.

Leon takes note of the awkward tension simmering with both Billie and Miriam, how the girl beside him dances around her words with far less grace than she had with him—and his chest tightens uncomfortably, how many people does she even know? He’d failed to pick up on any tension as he’d escorted them around the grounds last minute, too preoccupied with his jealousy of not sharing a cabin with Billie. Jealousy is just blinding me now, I guess, he thought with simmering frustration, caught up in his tendency to dwell instead of seeing what was right in front of his nose.

“Seconding that,” Leon mumbles with reluctant agreement, catching onto Ezzy’s stray comment. Hoping to save the moment from descending into more awkwardness, he pivots and gestures towards where Harper had entered the Amphitheater. “You want to meet Harper? She’s Renee and Paige’s cousin.” He throws the offer at Billie, giving her a subtle look as he explained, an Evergreen, so—tread lightly.

Grateful for the sudden opportunity to explore more, Billie nodded, her gaze briefly following his gesture—only to catch sight of who she assumed was Harper; the dark raven hair catching her slightly off guard.

Turning her head back to Leon, she met his look head on, an Evergreen? “A cousin?” She considered it for half a beat before nodding. “I’m so down.” With a parted wave to the small group, she quickly exited out with a sheepish expression, a small smile in place.

Aiming to pick any trunk that she laid eyes on first, Harper instead found her sights set on the wall of various photos tacked to the surface—memories immortalized for everyone to look back on their times participating in plays, behind-the-scenes antics included.

For the most part, the Evergreen scanned them with no intentions of taking the nostalgic route, but a pair of blonde heads caused her to pause her search for a costume. Paige? Harper stalled in front of the photo depicting her two cousins, a frown threatening to tug the corners of her mouth downward. Then, deliberately slow, she found the face that she had been longing to see since she stepped foot on camp again. “‘Ne…,’” Harper swallowed hard, fingers moving to pluck the tack off and free the photo from its imprisonment for a closer view.

As they crossed towards the trunks, the dark haired girl stopped and scanned the photos on the back wall. Zarina did too, noticing a couple of faces she’d already seen, and more that she hadn’t. Plus, two blonde girls that showed up in many of the pictures. Is that… them? Zarina wondered and glanced back at the dark haired girl, who seemed to be having a moment of her own. Quickly, Zarina averted her eyes and glanced back at the trunks, where some of the other counselors were congregated.

She didn’t know anything, certainly didn’t know who the girl was – but if those girls in the pictures were who she thought they were… well, it seemed to her like they were important to a lot of the people at this camp. Zarina felt like it being them was a good hunch. Zarina looked at Elodie and jerked her head towards the trunk, intending on giving the other girl a moment to herself. “Shall we?”

Elodie follows the path with mounting confusion, stopping short while the wall of photos were inspected with far too much emotion from the dark haired girl—her eyes dart to the side, feeling like more of an intruder than ever. If she weren’t so afraid of being bitten or barked at, she might’ve questioned whether Harper was okay, and instead jumps at the distraction Zarina offers.

“Let’s do it,” she grins, easily side-stepping the tension and dropping down onto her knees. Most of the fabric and props inside were gimmicky, meant only to be worn for an hour or two and shoved back into these trunks. Her stomach sinks, having hoped there might be a shirt or two she could pocket on her way out of Camp. Mr. Evergreen can fork out ten thousand per counsellor, but not for a designer jacket?

Pulling out a golden wig, for what must be the role of Goldilocks, she thrusts it towards Zarina with a small giggle, “no way we should wear any of these wigs. Bet the campers had lice.”

Zarina inspected the Goldilocks wig skeptically, the synthetic hairs now a ghost of perfect ringlets now gone frizzy from time and being haphazardly stuffed in a trunk. She dramatically cringed as she picked up and then dropped one of the curls, watching it spring lazily back into place.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” she snickered before she took her own dive into the trunk to see what there was to offer. A couple of pairs of bear ears, a wand, and a pointy black hat… aha! Coming out with a little hook hand prop, Zarina brandished it out towards Elodie like she was about to make her walk the plank, “Think I could pull off the grizzled pirate look?”

Elodie submits with a giggle, tossing the wig back into the trunk with little care as she touches the top of the hook, running a finger across the painted styrofoam. “You, a villain?” She tosses a glance over her shoulder, in the direction of Harper and quickly looks back with her lips pressed together. “No way. Get the feeling there’s others here that fit that role, what about…”

Zarina glanced back at the dark haired girl as Elodie threw a glance back at her. Does she know something I don’t? It was easy to see that the girl was intimidating – her attitude was certainly obvious, but a villain? Zarina made a mental note as she tossed the hook back into the chest and looked up with curiosity at the gloves Elodie had procured.

She blushed at the suggestion of a princess – a sense of beauty that she could only hope for accompanied the idea, and yet she found herself reaching for the gloves as Elodie finished working at them. She pulled the elbow length satin gloves down her arms and wiggled her fingers, testing whether they were comfortable. The fabric was only a little itchy where it bunched up on her arms, but otherwise would look regal if she could find the accompanying dress.

“I wonder what princess these belong to,” she shoved some fabric and another wig – red and curly – out of her way before coming up with a baby blue dress, wrinkled but with the puffy sleeves apropos for any princess. She held the dress up to herself to see if it would fit (or look good) and looked at Elodie for her approval. “What do you think?”

“Cinderella?” Elodie’s mouth drops open, almost comically, at the sight of Zarina hair hanging in damp ringlets over the blue fabric—like a water princess, there should be one—her head bobs into an encouraging nod, flashing the girl a thumb’s up. “Killing it, Zar. Hey, I can call you that, right?”

Elodie turns back to the trunk as she speaks, flicking through the options in search of a tiara and appropriate jewellery. “Tiara or ribbons? Blue suits you, obviously,” she scrunches her nose at Zarina, an expression that says duh, “water, and all—but, something sparkling is hard to beat.”

Zarina grinned at the suggestion of a nickname and nodded. “Of course!” She smoothed the ruffled skirt of the dress down and looked at it, wishing there was a mirror closer by to examine herself and blushed at Elodie’s compliment as she tried to picture herself in Cinderella’s glass slippers. Killing it. She glanced back as Elodie began to dig in the trunk, the options in it dwindling as they picked over its contents.

Blue suits you, obviously. “Oh, you really think so?” She asked as she folded the dress over her arm, tucking it safely as she bent to see what Elodie was pulling out of the trunk. She agreed that something sparkling would be hard to beat, and it seemed like it would be her size. A princess might not be something she’d imagined herself as before, but what better time to try out something new?

“Hmm… I can’t decide,” she said in response to Elodie’s question. “I think tiara if we can find one!” If they couldn’t, or she didn’t like it, surely she’d have some ribbons packed in her suitcase that would work perfectly for this. She at least remembered having some at home, but either way she wouldn’t be empty handed.

As Elodie dug through the trunk, Zarina saw a flash of light and silver in between the fabrics, “Oh, wait!”

She reached down and pulled away another piece of fabric to reveal a sparkling tiara tucked deep into the trunk. As she stood up with her prize, she displayed it to Elodie. “Sparkling enough, you think?”

“Perfect.”

Rowan debated for a moment whether he should bother Harper or not – would she even want to see me – but ultimately, he decided to toss the halo back into the trunk and give a single-finger salute to the group. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked over, passing a duo of new counselors he’d yet to meet and nodding at them in acknowledgement before standing next to Harper, finally deciding to fully face the wall of photos. In many of them, Paige’s face stared back at him, usually accompanied by a grin, always in some costume from some long forgotten play, often with Renee at her side. Looking at them now, it reminded him of last year when they’d gone missing – he wouldn’t have been able to face these pictures then.

“How’s it going, Harp?”

Absentmindedly flicking her thumb over the corner of the photo, Harper had been absorbed in the memory of 1992 when the amphitheater hosted Peter Pan—Paige donning a baby blue dress with her hair pinned up in a bow to match, and Renee sporting a bright green one, wearing an impatient smile for the camera.

Back then, Harper had sympathized with her cousin’s obvious disappointment in landing a secondary role next to her sister, but the dark-haired Evergreen couldn’t help the wider smile growing in remembrance of a happier time in front of her face now—instinctively thinking: She made the perfect Tinkerbell anyway.

‘How’s it going, Harp?’ The use of a childhood nickname few had access to disrupted her reverie as she started to look up. “What did you call me—?” she aimed to reprimand, letting the hand holding the polaroid drop to her side when her privacy disappeared before realization finally dawned on her. Oh, shit—

“Rowan?” confusion fully replaced with surprise, she began to look over his stature as if the hot head had merely been a mirage. Something of a melancholic smile began to form once he hadn’t disappeared from her sights, the wall of photos next to them serving no help in diffusing the wash of sorrowful nostalgia beginning to crash over her. But then: Get it together, a voice in Harper’s head had reminded her.

And like a switch, she listened, the melancholy disappearing in exchange for an easygoing smile to counter her emotions before another friend had gotten the chance to notice. “Are you here to pick up a costume too?” briefly, she motioned up to the board where Rowan starred in 1994’s ‘Peter Pan’ before looking back at him and with a quip ready, “those green tights might still be in there.”

Rowan wasn’t surprised by Harper’s initial sharp tone – it was an Evergreen specialty after all, and it wasn’t the first time it had been turned towards him. He started to hold his hands up in defense when Harper turned towards him and a smile spread across his face at her recognition. He was just glad to see her – he figured she wouldn’t come back after everything. Then again, they had probably both been carried back by the same pull to find answers.

“Eh,” he shrugged at her question and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the other group of counselors. “Mostly just tagging along with Ricky.”

He squinted up at the picture Harper motioned towards, where a younger version of him with some awful haircut stood with his arms crossed and a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Paige stood next to him in a powder blue dress, looking up at him with in-character admiration. His friendly smile faltered for a moment before he covered up his feelings with humor.

Rowan snorted at her statement. “I don’t think you could pay me to wear those again.” Despite not being called to very often, he’d graced the stage with his presence a couple of times over the years. Leon’s Peter had left big shoes to fill, but Rowan hadn’t minded returning to the world of Neverland – his first foray had been tainted by the blond he’d been cast alongside. It’d been back in the early days of their rivalry, before things had gotten so complicated and it was just boyish competition. His fists had flown more freely then, and in his hazy memory, it seemed like they’d ended rehearsals in fisticuffs more often than they hadn’t.

To Rowan, it had been the beginnings of comparing himself to Lou, the budding of feeling inferior (though he’d never admit it) to the boy who hadn’t even been a camper. It felt like every time Lou swept through camp was just a reminder to Rowan everything he was bad at – contesting him on the baseball field and seemingly traversing the stage with more ease. Meanwhile, Rowan tripped over his own feet and struggled to remember his lines.

“What about you, planning on reprising your role as… goth ballerina?” he offered sheepishly. Rowan hadn’t paid much attention to Swan Lake that summer, the show was less straightforward than he’d preferred, and he remembered mostly paying attention to the shows where Paige had been a star, his crush prevalent even back then.

“As if,” Harper scoffed through a smile, the tone of her voice taking on a playful edge as she turned away from Rowan to scope out the polaroid in question. From the suffocating ballet outfit to the sleek bun that waged an unforgiving war against her temples, there was nothing about the role of Odile worth reprising if it didn’t guarantee having Odette at her side again. Naturally, the Evergreen glanced to Renee in the photo who donned white silk and tulle as she spoke. “I don’t need another headache like that again. The counselors I’ve met so far do a generous job of providing on their own…”

In the midst of their conversation, did Harper discover that she was still flicking the corner of the photo now wedged between her fingers—a once heedless action now becoming a self-soothing measure after they started venturing into sore territory. Instead of reprimanding herself for letting the unwelcomed feeling burrow into her chest, however, the cook lowered her head for a second look—a contemplative expression forming on her face—before displaying her photo for Rowan. “But I am taking a souvenir before I look for something else.”

Then, another thought formed in the same breath as her admission before genuinity replaced the mischief in her eye. It wasn’t often that Harper took into consideration how others might feel. It was an anomaly, in fact. But Rowan Bishop was a special case; somebody who had proven to love the family as much as Harper did, if not, more. And if anybody deserved the consideration—

“You should too, Ro.” the childhood nickname escaped before she could stop herself, but the moment seemed to call for it as she reached up to pluck the tack pinning immortalized 1994 off before cautiously handing it to him. “All it’s doing is collecting dust up here anyway.”

Rowan followed Harper’s gaze to the polaroid of her and Renee in their leotard-clad roles, Harper looking like an evil queen with her dark makeup and costume. It suited her somehow, though the Evergreen’s derision towards the look made sense. Though he’d never liked her, it wouldn’t be the same without Renee.

He shook his head at her comments on the other counselors – though he had yet to meet any new ones other than Billie, he could understand what she meant. He was just glad it was all returning counselors for sports – if he had to teach someone to be a counselor this year, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Though he’d been proud of his leadership skills in the past, the pressure cooker inside of him couldn’t have handled more responsibility this year.

“Aww,” he said as she displayed her ‘souvenir’ to him, a picture of Renee and Paige in the first Peter Pan. Paige had been so young… he remembered them starting camp at the same time, though despite the show together, their personal circles wouldn’t cross until later. He’d always wished that they had sooner, but he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had gotten the reputation of hot head for a reason.

He gently took the polaroid as Harper offered it, genuinely touched by her gesture– he knew the Evergreens didn’t just show kindness to anyone, certainly not without meaning it. It was just a photograph, but as he ran his finger over Paige’s face in it, he found himself getting a little choked up before catching himself and brushing off the brief emotion with an awkward cough.

“Good idea, Harp,” he said as he pocketed the photo. “I’ll take good care of it.”

I’ll take good care of it. I know you will. “You better.” she quipped half-heartedly as she observed his short, yet bereaved reaction after accepting the photo.

The sadness in him wasn’t hard to decipher. It doused Rowan in a melancholy so thick that she could hardly recognize the person that he once was, if that version of him ever existed at all. At some point within the year that had passed, Harper could discern that his hope in finding Paige had dwindled into something of acceptance that he would have to move on from the life that included her. And though the dark-haired Evergreen couldn’t understand what had made him give up so easily, she didn’t feel the urge to correct him like she had to others on numerous occasions.

Instead, she let a silence lay over them, decidedly out of words to say that would provide any comfort to the counselor. He didn’t need it anyhow. They’re coming home. You’ll have her back. In the midst of her mantra, Harper’s jaw ticked at the sound of a cough, followed by her name in the same voice of unease she had been welcomed with earlier in the day.

Leon. She flicked her gaze back to where Rowan stood, expecting to see the timid Supervisor close by. But instead—who is that?


With a gentle tug of Billie’s hand, Leon hesitates to interrupt the conversation—he clears his throat to announce themselves, ignoring the scratch that almost sends him spiralling into a cough, and ducks into Harper’s line of sight, choosing to stand beside Rowan.

“Hey, Harper? This is Billie Lennon,” he chooses to use the introduction of the girl beside him as a reason to avert his eyes from the Evergreen. “She’s joining us for farming this year, in Kestrel Cabin…” his eyes widened, looking back at Harper with a slack-jawed expression. Nice going, idiot.

“... I forgot to tell you which cabin you’re in.” Noticing her lack of luggage, Leon reluctantly pulls his hand free of Billie’s to rub at the back of his neck, smoothing away the prickling of his skin. “I assume you, uh—I mean, did you find it?”

Falling easily into step beside him, Billie immediately sensed Leon’s fuck up. Without hesitation, she gave a small tug to their linked hands, briefly pulling them behind her back as her fingers tapped against his—people make mistakes. Then, as smoothly as she’d grabbed hold, she let go, catching the way he instinctively rubbed the back of his neck from the corner of her eye.

Clearing her own throat—hoping to salvage his dignity and shift the attention away—she stepped slightly forward, lifting a hand in a casual wave. “Hi!” Her gaze flickered downward, brightening at the sight of the stars stitched into the fabric of the girl’s jeans. “Ooh, those are super cute—nice taste.”

Indiscreetly, Harper's eyes narrowed by Billie’s attempt to save Leon from further embarrassment, taking notice of how she used herself as a shield by stepping closer to her than the Supervisor dared to try. It had been partially successful when the Evergreen was smothered in a wash of warming light that the farmer had seemed to radiate whether she was aware of it or not.

Ooh, those are super cute—“Thanksssss…,” the cook waved off the compliment with a response that could’ve been mistaken for sarcasm considering the mouth it fell from, but it was a genuine one; one that Harper didn’t care how they took it for.

Aw! Billie felt her brows dip slightly, softening at Harper’s compliment as she took it to heart. A tiny grin peeked through—small enough not to overwhelm the Evergreen. “Of course,” she chimed back, her gaze flickering downward once more, drawn to the gray stars scattered across the denim jeans. A matching jean jacket would go well with this…maybe I could try making one sometime this week.

She turned her scrutinizing gaze away to the tufts of brown hair that belonged to Leon again, who still stood slightly—and silently—behind Billie under the guise of a false reprieve. Disappointment coursed through her at the lack of dominance he so clearly possessed, a smile that was anything less than genuine on display for him. “I found a cabin.” No thanks to you, of course. Harper may have gotten to choose, but she refused to give him the opportunity to let out the breath he held by admitting that his mistake worked in her favor.

As she turned back to the farmer, Harper’s eyes landed on the vivid red fabric in Billie’s gentle grasp, followed by a flash of black—reminiscent of the Odile costume she wore on the amphitheater stage in 1996. With a slight tilt of her head and a secret flicker of curiosity, she motioned toward what she assumed was her chosen attire for Truth or Dare.

“You don’t think Odette’s more your speed, Billie? Black’s kinda depressing for someone like you.” Chirpy. Bubbly. Mildly annoying, maybe.

“Oh, I don’t know—wouldn’t put it past me,” she teased jokingly, laughter slipping quietly from her lips as she waved a hand between them in a playful gesture. “Just kidding. I was actually thinking of going as Red Riding Hood.” Billie wiggled the basket between them, the red robe draped over the edge making the vision clear.

Little red—Harper forced away the urge to frown as the girl displayed the neat wicker-basket swaying side to side in her grasp, a defensive emotion awaiting its green light to propel her hands forward and snatch away the prop from Billie’s hands. But then, a recollection kept her arms at her side as she listened:

She’s new—

“What…um, what about you?” she asked, lips twisting to the side in contemplation. Her gaze flickered briefly to Leon’s—Should I just hand her the outfit instead?

“Nothing yet.” It was a simple answer, minimal Evergreen attitude included, as she tried to wrangle the thoughts in her mind. —And nothing like Elodie. Harper had a knack for recognizing when there was some wit or quip geared toward her family, especially when she had witnessed the animosity first hand in her earlier years spent at the camp.

There was none in the counselor that donned an unwavering enthusiasm at her. If fact, the Evergreen found herself pondering if there was any mean bone in her body at all.

Leon shouldn’t have been surprised—but the Evergreen bite in Harper’s words, insinuating she’d selected a cabin on her own—it rattled him, dashing the hope of this summer being reminiscent of his first as a camper, when Renee wasn’t here. Forcing an apologetic smile, Leon trained his eyes on the ground as she and Billie casually spoke, keeping an ear out for a sign he needed to intervene, and silently wishing the surviving Evergreen wouldn’t give him a reason.

From the corner of his eye, Billie looks at him—he tilts his head in the newcomer’s direction to deduce the question in her eyes, and understanding settles in as the basket prop shifts back and forth. He gives her an encouraging nod, mystified by her kindness to a stranger, one most likely undeserving of it, Leon thought with a slight cough, unsure of how much of Renee’s slack she intended to pick up.

Catching Leon’s encouraging nod, Billie quickly blew a discreet kiss in his direction—just out of Harper’s view—before turning back to face the Evergreen. Her smile stayed in place, eyes bright with an easy warmth. “Actually,” she started casually, giving a small shrug, “I can just find something else to wear instead. Do you…want the costume for tonight?”

She had no doubt it was likely tradition for one of the Evergreen girls to take the lead—maybe it would even be nice for her, all things considered.

Do you…want the costume for tonight? It’s not yours to give away, a level of callousness raised in a separate voice in Harper’s mind, but she no doubtedly agreed as her eyes flickered down to the basket again in faux contemplation. As soon as the pieces of the puzzle came together in her mind—one that gauged remembrance of her cousin being the one to wear the outfit—there was no need for further thought behind the obvious choice:

It’d look better on an Evergreen. Harper’s face finally broke into a grin—one that danced a fine line between genuine and insincere. “If you’re offering,” uncaring of the gentle touch that Harper’s hand made against Billie’s, she looped her fingers around the basket to show that retracting wasn’t an option. It never was. “You’re a lifesaver, Billie,” she exaggerated, choosing to throw a glance toward Leon silently hovering behind the farmer’s shoulder as if his presence would enact some sense of security.

An eyebrow rose silently in his direction as she chose to acknowledge their more-than-friendly mannerisms. Couldn’t at least give her a full day?

“Not a problem at all.” Billie flashed the darker haired Evergreen a quick grin before softening it into a smile—careful not to overstep or overwhelm. She had to remind herself—you’re new here. You don’t know who is close with Lisa.

Her gaze dropped to Harper’s hand, fingers curling around the basket. She released her own hold just as easily. “You’ll pull it off so much better anyway,” she said, the words slipping out effortlessly—surprising herself with how honest she sounded.

Leon’s pink cheeks and sagged shoulders were evidence of his relief and the kiss Billie blew his way before parting with the costume. Harper’s bright smile was more sincere than he’d ever witnessed from an Evergreen, quieting the doubts that this summer would be no different than the previous ones—a concern Leon wasn’t aware he harboured until now as he watched the brunette scrutinise Billie for the slightest mistake, waiting to pounce on easy prey.

She’s remarkable, the notion was fleeting, but palpable. Escaping unscathed was easier said than done—maybe Billie would’ve survived Renee afterall with her easygoing nature and unbothered charm, or maybe Harper was less like her cousins than he expected—but from the high brow she raises at him, picking up on something he suddenly felt protective of, the doubt returned.

“That settles that then,” Leon laughs airily, anxiously, and nods at the open costume drunk behind Harper. “Maybe The Grandma or The Wolf is still available?”

Billie’s mood lifted once more, excitement sparking at the mention of costumes—and maybe even a matching group. “Oh? A wolf, you say? That sounds like fun!” With playful ease, she pivoted to face the Supervisor, her eyes catching on the faint flush coloring his cheeks.

Well, she thought, it is pretty warm out.

A lopsided grin tugged at her lips as she tossed out a challenge. “So, what do you say, Sailor? Gonna show me around again—for another potential fit?”

“No need,” Leon brushes aside the thought of continuing their pursuit for a costume, bending at the waist to scoop up the Wolf mask. He holds it up to her face, the elastic hanging limp. “Perfect fit, if you ask me. Unfortunately, it covers up your pretty face,” he twists his wrist to reveal Billie beneath the paper mache mask, returning her grin.

There wasn’t much left in the trunk as far as the costume went, but his eyes brightened with an idea. “I have a plaid shirt. Could combine this with the Woodsman.”

Harper’s head dropped into a subtle tilt as she eyed Leon placing the paper mache mask on Billie, and did her best to envision the girl donned up with a flannel to complete the rest of her costume. Though the Evergreen saw much better variations of a wolf, there was a short flicker of approval at the suggestion for the farmer’s get-up. With such short notice combined with the very little options on hand, it’ll do.

“Take the mask off when we all sit around the fire though. The flannel’s good for keeping bugs off your arms but” with a nod, Harper motioned toward the top of Billie’s head at the mask. “You’ll sweat your lashes off underneath that thing.”

All it took was a single comment—pretty face—and she was a goner. Matching the brightness in Leon’s eyes, Billie exhaled a breathless laugh, her gaze flickering between him and Harper. “Well, it’s decided, looks like I’m all settled now.”

As a quiet show of gratitude—and undeniably her—she let her fingers circle around his wrist, giving a slight squeeze before dropping her hand back to her side. Turning to Harper, her expression softened, warmed by what she hoped was approval. “God, you make a really good point…” She reached up, pressing her fingertips lightly against her cheek, momentarily distracted by the intrusive thought of her lashes falling off. No thank you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tilting her head, she pivoted fully to face the Evergreen, her gaze briefly drawn to the darker strands of hair before settling on Harper’s much lighter pair of eyes. A playful grin tugged at her lips, jutting her hip out. “Better watch out, Little Red,” she teased, hoping to keep the mood light.

An undeniable glimmer reflected in Harper’s eye at Billie, hinting—for just a moment—at genuine amusement at her ability to quip back.

Though it wasn’t a rarity, lighthearted retaliation came few and far between, especially when attacks were initiated by an Evergreen. Often chalked up to an attitude or an attempt to evoke a sense of fear, the few instances where she came across counselors who weren’t afraid of a little back-and-forth were well worth the entertainment. And the Lennon girl had grown to be nothing short of so.

Harper smirked and waved her off playfully. “Yeah, yeah.” Stepping forward until she landed on Billie’s free side, the Evergreen moved her newly-attained costume all into one hand before throwing an arm over the farmer’s shoulder. “We’ll see if this wolf is still big and bad after a solo cup at the Sunspot.”

Pulling away from Billie after giving her arm a slight squeeze, Harper took a few steps back before strengthening her sturdy hold on the basket in her hand. “I need to go drop my things off and head back into the kitchen soon—” ignoring the usual queue for an eye roll at the thought of tedious work, she instead kept her tone light for one reason only. “I finally get to meet the other cook.”

Before abandoning the amphitheater next, however, Harper addressed them both, smiling fading into an expression subtle. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

A stammered “oh” slipped free as an arm draped around her shoulders, the gesture catching her entirely off guard. Strands of her dark hair tumbled forward, brushing against her cheek as she leaned into the embrace. Her bright gaze flicked towards Leon—holy shit, are you seeing this?—before pivoting to Harper, mirroring the lopsided smirk with one of her own. After a solo cup at the Sunspot, “you’re so on.”

As Harper pulled away, Billie did the same, swiftly falling back into place beside Leon’s side, the lingering warmth of unexpected approval sending a buzz through her. An Evergreen, no less. Was that how everyone felt? That jolt of exhilaration? Her sea green eyes flickered curiously towards her, spotting the basket in her grasp, the red hood draped over her arm like a silent confirmation—the right choice, in the end. She’ll easily pull it off. With a parting wave, the smirk on her lips softened into something more honest.

“Good luck in the kitchen,” she offered at the last minute, the tension in her shoulders no longer visible now that she was alone with the Supervisor. A beat passed, the quiet settling comfortably between them before she finally asked, “…Is she more like Paige or Renee?” Or her own person?

That went… much better than expected. Leon follows Harper’s retreat with an expression of surprise as his worries were alleviated, half-registering Billie’s quietly ventured inquiry. I don’t know, his thoughts respond first, curious whether the Evergreen currently sweeping from the Amphitheater had survived what befell Renee and Paige—not the events of last summer, but whatever strain of cruelty was threaded through their DNA—and if their, albeit unfortunate, absence would be a turning point.

“Ten minutes ago I would’ve said Renee,” he finally responds, lightly plucking at the string of her Big Bad Wolf mask, a distracting gesture from the intrusive thought of—maybe it’s a good thing they’re gone—a notion he intended to keep close to his chest, afraid the superstition of speaking ill of the dead might be true.

Instead, with a smile meant just for Billie, he tilts his head down towards her and continues, “with better influences, I think she’s capable of being just Harper.”

Releasing the string, he taps the wolf mask definitively against his thigh in a way of saying let’s wrap this up, and gestures with a tilt of his head to the direction Harper had left from. “Come on, let’s get you to your activity little farmer.”


After the whole awkward encounter from earlier, Miriam was more than ready to get out of the amphitheater. But she hadn’t actually done much looking for a costume at all, which was the premise of her being in there in the first place, since that was what she and Ezzy had both set out to do. Her friend was already looking for his own costume nearby, and Miriam didn’t much care about anyone else in the conversation besides him, so she drifted away to look for a costume of her own. She noticed a couple of girls nearby looking at costumes but tried to focus on her own thing as she tore through the trunk. She turned up her nose at most of the options, picky as always, and held up the few darker pieces for a brief scrutiny before deciding she wasn’t a fan of them either.

She was slowly inching towards the others with every article of clothing or accessory she tossed aside, eating through the trunks like she was in a race. But the sooner she found a costume, the sooner she could get out of here. Miriam didn’t pay any attention to her surroundings as she examined and found lacking more and more possible costume options.

Costume in hand, Zarina helped Elodie return the trunk’s thoroughly picked through contents, thankful she hadn’t had to go far to find something that worked. She noticed Elodie’s hands were still empty, and was determined to help her find something too. Surely, there was something suitable in one of the other trunks. She took a step back as they finished meticulously stuffing the trunk—despite its seemingly jumbled contents, they’d had to solve a jigsaw puzzle to return the items just so in order for the lid to close.

As she did, she caught a glimpse of the girl as she approached the trunk next to theirs, haphazardly tossing the contents around in her search. Her dark hair and makeup interested Zarina, who hadn’t seen many alternative people in person, even though they fascinated her in media. It was one of the things she was interested about in America, though she hadn’t expected to find a goth person at summer camp – it didn’t seem like their scene. But Camp Evergreen had surprises around every corner.

Zarina didn’t know why – perhaps it was her successful streak in making friends that day – but she looked towards the girl and called, “Need any help?”

Miriam arched an eyebrow at the girl who called out to her. She was definitely pretty, almost intimidatingly so, but she seemed nice enough. Miriam didn’t trust it. Too many of the most horrible people were friendly to one’s face and rude the moment you turned around, so she wasn’t sure how genuine the kindness was. It seemed real enough, but she would rather be safe than sorry. Still, it wasn’t a good idea to make enemies of everyone in camp, especially when friends or even a little flirting might actually help the investigation. Well, assuming anyone here besides her, Nic, and Ezzy was actually queer.

“It might not hurt,” she responded after a moment, trying not to chew on her lip as she thought. It was an old habit, but one that totally destroyed a good lip color if Miriam wasn’t careful. “You still looking for a costume for tonight too?”

Zarina crossed over to the trunk the girl was digging through, feeling a bit sheepish as she grew closer, Her sudden surge in confidence began to falter as she took in the girl’s strikingly pretty features, from her dark lips and eyeshadow to her piercing gaze. She was both interesting and intimidating, and Zarina couldn’t help but find herself staring at her for a moment too long after she’d spoken to her.

“Oh, um,” Zarina said awkwardly as she pulled her eyes away from the girl and dropped her eyes to the dress in her hand, gesturing with it and the little tiara she held in the other. “I think I decided on Cinderella.”

She dropped her eyes to the tiara, almost regretting the decision already – not only was the tiara itself sparkly, the dress brightly screamed LOOK AT ME – perhaps Zarina should have chosen something less flashy. She wanted to participate in the camp’s traditions, but she preferred fading into the background and observing. She ran her fingers over the gems in the tiara as they sparkled in the sun beating down on them, a nervous, tactile fidget as she turned her attention back to the girl.

“It was kind of a last minute choice though – I didn’t even know I needed a costume like twenty minutes ago, so at least I found something. Are you trying to find anything in particular? I’ve only looked in that one,” she motioned toward the trunk that she and Elodie had combed over. “But I can help you!”

Miriam glanced at the tiara the newcomer held, looking back up at her as she tried to visualize the costume. The girl in front of her did look a bit Disney princess-esque. At any moment, a variety of forest critters might make their way over to the duo and start singing. The thought made Miriam smile a bit. Yeah, this girl could absolutely pull off dressing as Cinderella.

“Cinderella seems like a good choice for you. As for myself, I’m starting to think more and more that I should just give up and use my own wardrobe for Elvira or Morticia Addams. But you can help me with this last ditch effort if you want.” She shrugged. She certainly didn’t mind the company, as antisocial as she usually seemed, but she was losing hope that there was anything that was both goth and not hideously ugly.

Despite it barely being a compliment, Zarina’s face burned at her new friend’s statement. Maybe she would be okay standing out a little if everyone at the camp was like Elodie or this new girl about her costume. At home, she felt so plain surrounded by her older, more put together sisters and cousins. They were the real princesses in her mind – her older sister, Neela, had hair that she felt would put Rapunzel to shame. It felt good for someone to say she looked like a princess – at least, that’s how she explained away the newly forming butterflies in her stomach.

Zarina wasn’t sure what Elvira was and she’d only seen the Addams’ family once – her cousin was obsessed with the most random American movies and insisted she watched it, but she had only half paid attention at the time. She regretted that now, but nodded at the girl’s final statement. “Yeah, I don’t mind helping!”

She hadn’t seen anything that would help a Morticia costume in the other trunk, so she took to holding things as her new friend tossed things out of the trunk – flashes of pink, white and other bright colors flew by from the trunk, not making her very confident they’d find something better here. Still, she hoped she was being at least somewhat helpful.

She wondered if the girl would redo her makeup – it already seemed apropos for someone like Morticia, but was it really a costume if you were basically in your own clothes and makeup? Something told her that this girl didn’t really care – perhaps when everyone looked at you like you had a costume on anyway, it didn’t matter. Zarina realized she was staring at the girl again and coughed, deciding to fill in the silence.

“So… have you been a counselor before?”

Miriam had been pretty intently looking for a costume, throwing clothes out like her life depended on it. She had just thrown a white dress over her shoulder as the girl next to her spoke up again, and she glanced up, briefly pausing in her search to listen before continuing.

“Nope, never. But my best friend thought we should do this, so here I am. Or really, his dad works here so he kinda dragged him into it,” she mused, giving a wry smile. “What brings you here, Cinderella?” She used the costume in lieu of a name, considering the girl hadn’t given hers yet. Not that Miriam had, either, but a part of her kind of enjoyed the mystery it offered her.

Zarina felt lucky to be meeting the other new people – it made her feel less out of place, thankful that there were seemingly several others gracing the campgrounds for the first time. Thankful to be meeting them, but also a little disappointed – who would answer her burning questions about the camp if she never met the long-standing counselors? This girl was lucky, she at least had her best friend with her. Zarina was just glad that she was clicking with some people better than she’d thought. She was worried that the real test of whether she was fitting in would be truth or dare.

“Oh, nothing much, just rode in on my pumpkin carriage,” she chuckled at her own joke and shrugged. “Actually, I just needed a summer job. I’m going to the University of Oregon next semester…” she paused and adjusted the stack of rejected clothes she was now holding in addition to her Cinderella dress. She peered into the trunk’s dwindling contents and watched as the girl neared the bottom. It seemed more and more like her search wasn’t going to be very fruitful.

“Oh! Also, my name is Zarina… though I wish I was Cinderella… After she gets her prince, anyway! I could do without the evil stepmother part…” Zarina felt like she was rambling and nervously shifted her weight from side to side as she stood there, not sure what else to say as the girl finished her search.

Miriam continued searching throughout the conversation, making little mhmm noises or nodding along to make sure the other woman knew she was listening. So far, nothing seemed like it would work for what she had in mind, and as usual, she would have to do everything herself. Not that she really minded, but it was a disappointment she’d seen coming from a mile away. Well, at least she’d tried. Even if she’d more or less ditched Ezzy, which she was starting to feel bad about.

“Zarina, that’s pretty.” Miriam was mostly repeating the name to ensure she remembered it, since something about this girl made Miriam want to commit her to memory. It was probably just because she was good-looking; Miriam had always had a bad habit of her brain refusing to work around pretty girls. It was an unfortunate affliction that usually ended up with her being more rude or blunt than intended. “I’m Miriam. So, you’re a student, then? That’s exciting. What are you studying?”

“Oh, thanks,” Zarina found herself blushing yet again at the girl’s compliment. She didn’t want to read too much into it – this girl was pretty too, but Zarina could never tell if anyone was flirting with her, finding herself in more than one awkward spot with a boy whose words she’d taken too seriously. Sometimes a compliment was just a compliment, even when it came from someone as mysterious as Miriam. Something about her intrigued Zarina.

“Yeah, I guess it is! It’s my first semester… well, my first year in America, so I am pretty nervous. I’m studying journalism!” Zarina shifted her weight back as she watched Miriam dig in the trunk, her arms aching to put down the extra costumes she was holding down. “Finding anything good?”

Miriam shook her head, resigning herself to finding a costume with what she had in her bags back at the cabin. Hopefully Ezzy was able to have more luck than her, because this certainly wasn’t going as well as it could have. At least Zarina was able to find a cute costume from the options lying around.

“Oh, yeah, I can imagine,” Miriam responded, letting everything in her arms drop with a sigh. “Looks like I’ll just have to work with what I already had. No big deal, I have an awesome selection.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, giving Zarina a small smile before exaggeratedly looking annoyed at putting the clothes back. “Well now we gotta shove all this shit back in here.” She tried her best to cram it all in.

“Sorry we didn’t find you anything… I bet whatever you have is way better.” Zarina gently placed the extra costumes back on top of Miriam’s pile with a dramatic sigh and helped her wrestle them back into the trunk, shutting the lid with a satisfying thunk over the disorganized heap. She ran her fingers over the Cinderella dress, trying in vain to smooth the wrinkles pressed into the fabric from its time in storage.

She didn’t want to leave just yet, wanted to ask Miriam more questions about herself, but her social battery was depleting fast. It would only get worse if she didn’t take a moment to herself, and she actually wanted to have fun at truth or dare, not sit there like an exhausted bump on a log. Besides, Miriam would definitely be there, and there would be plenty of time to talk then. If she left now, she might even have time to take a shower and wash the lake off of her before dinner.

“I’m excited to see what you come up with!” Zarina perked up as she stepped back from the trunk and motioned with the costume in her arms. “I think I’m going to run this back to my cabin, but I hope to see you at dinner.”

Zarina hesitated and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, reluctant to leave. Still, she did need the break. So, she gave Miriam an awkward smile before turning to walk towards the door, stepping around any stragglers in her path. She paused, feeling the lingering awkwardness of her departure, then glanced back over her shoulder towards Miriam and gave a quick wave before slipping through the door.

Miriam waved back with a small smile. Zarina was nice, and pretty cute–for some reason her awkwardness made her almost more attractive in Miriam’s eyes. She was really into dorky girls, huh? Well, it wasn’t like Miriam was the smoothest person either.

She tried to switch her mind into costume mode; she would have to work on that before dinner if she wanted to look at all presentable. She tried to catch Ezzy’s eye to signal that she was leaving so she didn’t completely disappear on him before heading back to her figure to put her outfit for tonight together.

cast:
location:
camp amphitheater.

tags:
leon ( lostbird lostbird ), billie ( anyasjoy anyasjoy ), harper (mina), zarina & rowan ( irregular-neptune irregular-neptune ), ricky & miriam ( hotsauce hotsauce ), and ezzy ( ocie ocie ).
 
MOOD: mona (tensed, conflicted about replacing lisa), lou (distracted, reminiscing about memories), billie (a see-saw of emotions)

OUTFIT: n/a

LOCATION: it's farming yall!
basics
MENTIONS:
hugo, juliette, nicolas, levi, i'm sorry if i'm missing others!

INT:
lvcid lvcid spareparts spareparts lostbird lostbird
tags
TL;DR leon drops billie off and he reunites with lou; mona, missing lisa, is forced to contend with her feelings and teach the new farmers what is expected; billie adjusts to her new position by saying all the wrong things; and lou delivers a helping of tomatoes to the kitchen.
tl;dr
E I E I O
ramona, lou & billie (ft. leon!)
Don’t run away, if you wanna stay, ‘cause I ain’t here to make you, oh no! It’s up to you what you really want to do—

Frowning, Ramona skipped to the next song on Sublime’s self-titled album. She couldn’t recall how often she’d heard those same lines before—too many times to count—but they crept beneath her skin now, poking at her nerves like a poorly-timed joke.

What does she need him for anyway? With a grunt, Mona hoisted a bag of fertilizer from the floor of the potting shed to lug toward the tables set up just outside the open door. The wooden surfaces were already lined with stacks of ceramic containers and an assortment of seed packets—basil, mint, and rosemary—for an easy lesson. Arguably, the hardest—or rather, most tedious—part was setting up. Why him? She couldn’t have found somebody else?

Ramona wouldn’t have been surprised if Liberty had done it just to spite her—seeking Lou out only to steal him away right when she needed him. Granted, the two of them had been inseparable since their paths crossed that morning, but an extra set of hands would’ve made the back-and-forth trips not quite so frequent and heavy-laden. Not to mention—

Bawk!

—the chickens.

“Please, move.” The farmer stuck out a foot, angled to nudge the bird aside but falling short as the weight of the load in her hands shifted, and she moved with it so as not to drop it. The chicken, however, peered up at Mona with beady, unbothered orbs from the spot by the counter best fit for the large package of soil, taking her extended ankle as an invitation to nip at it. “Seriously?” Ramona shuffled awkwardly away. “Next time, I’ll just let the bag fall on you.” Rolling her eyes, the brunette instead deposited her burden on the opposite side of the table before turning to retrieve the few trowels still left in their stock—the camp had lost so many throughout the years, but they made do with what they had in a poor attempt at minimizing the mess left to clean up after each class.


It didn’t take much to send the Newcomer into a spiral of overthinking, and as Billie walked side by side with Leon from the Amphitheatre, she couldn’t shake the weight of the unspoken elephant lingering between them. Time and place, she firmly reminded herself. Now isn’t the right moment for a chit chat about that—gotta mentally prepare for my first activity.

She brightened at the thought of reuniting with the chickens, letting out a quiet squeal as she looped her arms around his, her hair swaying with the motion. “Oh, I hope you can stick around for a bit and see the chickens,” she mused, her voice light with excitement. “They’re adorable.” Not too much. Not too obvious. Just enough to lift the mood before they parted ways—at least, that’s what she told herself.

A beat of silence, then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Thank you, by the way.” The words left her quickly, like if she hesitated too long, she might swallow them back down. Sea green eyes focused ahead as they neared the farming area, her gaze landing on a lone figure with dark hair—must be a coworker.

“I know you didn’t have to walk me and all,” she admitted, offering him a small, sincere glance before looking forward again, her fingers unconsciously tapping against the crook of his elbow. “Kinda been hogging you all day, huh?”

Slipping into a comforting silence left Leon teetering—on one hand, he felt reassured by the knowledge he and Billie could simply exist without awkwardness festering, but on the other… He chews on the inside of his cheek, eyes catching on each individual camper as they cross the distance to the farmyard, the need for a distraction as the silence propels him to dwell on hopeless facts outside of his control.

Ezzy? Fuck, man. He should’ve moved to Easthallow years ago, to be closer to the Camp as another helping hand, to run into Billie first—the thought may as well have been intrusive for the budding shame Leon experiences, knowing damn well his feelings for the newest farmer were new, definitely exciting, but unlikely to warrant the jealousy worming an uncomfortable hole through his chest.

Billie’s arm loops around his—now that was a distraction he happily fell into, focusing on the bright side; Ezzy and her were most likely old news, and she was hanging off of his arm. He follows the source of her squeal, noticing the small clutch of chickens pecking at the ground in Mona’s path, his mouth lifting into a smile at Billie’s infectious excitement.

“For a little bit, promise,” Leon folds a hand over the arm draped around his, squeezing her wrist. Truthfully, farming was the activity he rarely worried about—Mona and Lisa were a well-oiled machine, their friendship aiding in preventing a single hitch, and he only hoped Billie would be able to… not replace, he fights off a frown, suddenly concerned by how she might be received by the seasoned farmer. Help out, enjoy herself, that’s all.

Kinda been hogging you all day, huh? “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Beats supervising the others,” he throws a grin in her direction as they scale the slight incline to the farmyard, forcing his worries aside for the time-being—Mona wouldn’t be rude for the sake of it.

Even if she’s grieving? His mind questions him pointedly.

“Good.” The thought of him sticking around a little longer brought her comfort—there was something about him Billie couldn’t quite put her finger on, there’s still time to figure him out. That notion alone relaxed the tension in her shoulders, allowing her to fall easily back into step beside Leon as she quietly released a sigh, one meant to be interpreted as a silent thank god.

Wouldn’t have it any other way. Her teeth found their way to her lower lip as she bit down lightly, gaze bashfully fixed on the ground, there he goes again. “Consider it my new favorite pastime now—stealing your attention.” And there goes me.

The sound of clucking stole her attention, and Billie felt the corners of her smile stretch into a grin, perking up at the sight of the dark haired woman practically dancing around the chickens, her movements shakily impressive as she tried to keep her distance while the chickens swarmed at her feet.

“She seems like fun,” She eased out, reluctantly releasing her hold on Leon with a gentle squeeze at his wrist as they closed the distance. With campers patiently gathering around, she reminded herself to stay professional—she couldn’t be seen clinging to the supervisor. God, what would people think?

“She is,” Leon agrees with the first impression of Mona, remembering the crumbs he’d woken up to sprinkled across his chest and Levi roused him—even as the irresponsibly drunk supervisor, Mona entertained his quest for snacks. “The both of you will hit it off, I’m sure of it.”

“Would be nice to make another friend.”

Offering high-five’s to the surrounding campers as they cross past the gated entrance, Leon lowers his tone to remind the kids to be nice to the chickens, and more importantly—the counsellors. A strict expression slides into place; he detested having a reason to scold the campers for something as serious as bullying the new counsellors, and with Billie as the potential target? Not happening, he waves a warning finger around the group, his pointed look not going unnoticed.

Clearing her throat quietly, she pushed down the sudden nervousness pooling in her stomach as they reached the gate, fingers nervously fiddling with the latch. Forcing out a lighthearted quip to Leon, she mumbled, “Geez, I totally forgot this wasn’t just a sweet deal where I feed chickens and occasionally plant seeds. How cooked am I?”

Leon’s hand instinctively lifts to her back, only to fall down to his side—cool it, set an example—and shakes his head with a lighthearted chuckle, waving at Mona over the newcomer’s shoulder to summon her attention. “You’ll be a natural in no time. My only advice?” He shifts closer, whispering so the campers won’t eavesdrop, “do not let them bully you. Sharks in the water, all of them, they smell blood and seek it out—don’t be afraid to put your foot down.”

As Ramona slid the latch on the potting shed’s door into place, movement on the edge of her line of sight drew her attention sideways, and she startled at the realization that she was no longer alone in her antics. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, reaching down to pause the music pouring through her headphones, which were dropped to rest around her neck a moment after. Leon stood by the farmyard’s gate, along with the young woman, who’d accompanied Jonathan that morning, and the first grouping of kids to arrive. With a sigh, the brunette abandoned her task in favor of regrettably closing the distance to greet the pair.

“You’re new, right?” Mona started, focus settling on the girl briefly, an inadvertent air of disinterest in her dark pupils, before shifting quickly to peek beyond her. Still, no sign of Lou. A frown threatened to crack her otherwise nonchalant façade as she continued, “I’m Ramona.”

Billie watched as the woman closed the distance, her grin softening into a small, uncertain smile. Anticipation prickled at her skin, nerves humming beneath the surface. “Yeah, I am—!” She cut herself off awkwardly, her gaze briefly meeting Ramona’s before the other looked away, choosing to glance over her shoulder instead. Oh boy.

“The name’s, um, Billie.” Her mind drifted back to her conversation with Clarisse earlier this morning. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.

Lisa’s absence threw enough of a kink in the farm’s routine, but Mona had no desire to begin the activity without Lou—it may have been his first year as a counselor, but at least he knew his way through the grounds and general up-keep.

Shit.

“Do you need me to show you around before we get started? I should’ve been here earlier, but—” Ramona paused, glancing between Leon and the recent arrival he’d escorted there. The silver locket dangling against the seasoned farmer’s chest felt suddenly heavier. “—I got distracted.”

“Uh—” Suddenly unsure, Billie cast a quick glance to her side, catching Leon’s encouraging gaze. Unfortunately, it did nothing to steady her nerves.

“I met Clarisse this morning—she gave me the gist of how farming works, but…” She clasped her hands together, the cool latex of the mask pressing against her skin as she rocked back and forth on her heels. “I’d love to shadow you!” The words tumbled out in a rush, fingers fidgeting as she spoke. “Actually, we just came from the Amphitheatre. Don’t, um…don’t suppose you’ve got a place where I can set this down?” She gestured to the wolf mask in her hands. “Might accidentally freak out the chickens.”

Ramona staved off a grimace at the thought of being shadowed; she had enough children to teach as it was—she didn’t need another one. Was that what was expected of her, though, to hold Billie’s hand through each step until the girl could hobble along the schedule on her own? Mona was so tired of people depending on her for everything—

The brunette breathed out an awkward laugh. “You probably won’t need to,” she countered. “It’s all pretty self-explanatory—tell the kids what to do, and if they look confused, offer to help. It’s not so much about them doing it right as it is them having fun.” The corners of Ramona’s mouth lifted in some attempt at offering comfort. “You’ll catch on quick.”

Easy as pie, Billie repeated to herself, the phrase looping in her head as she listened to Ramona, nodding occasionally to show she was paying attention. “I hope so,” she managed to say, the words slipping out almost cautiously. For once, she found herself stumped—unsure of how to ease the tension or add anything that might help. Probably best if I keep it zip for now. Her fingers fidgeted briefly before she met Ramona’s gaze again, “I’ll keep all of that in mind. Promise.”

Dark eyes flickered downward, and Mona’s brow furrowed as she registered Billie’s inventory for the first time. A rubber Halloween mask of some kind, but whatever cheap rendition was folded so oddly that Ramona couldn’t distinguish what sort of creature it was supposed to be. A strange thing to be carrying around, but then she remembered: Truth or Dare. Of course. “Oh, yeah. This way.” Mona turned back the way she’d come, nodding for Billie to follow. “Campers aren’t allowed in the potting shed, so it’ll be safe in there. Plus, chickens can’t open doors, so…” The brunette’s voice trailed off, whatever punchline her joke may have had lost to the tension fogging their path. Any other time, she would’ve jumped at the opportunity for an amicable exchange with a like-minded person, but Ramona was beginning to think that perhaps, she didn’t deserve any more friends—she could barely hold on to the few she already had.

With a creak, the shed’s door swung open at Mona’s prompting, her hand lingering on the rough wood to allow space for Billie to enter. “It’s kind of messy, but you can put it anywhere you find space. Make sure to grab it before you leave, though, or Hugo will lock it in here until tomorrow.”

As the farmer darted off, Billie hastily threw a quick wave towards Leon, her gaze lingering a beat too long before she tore it away—heart sinking as the realization hit, we’re about to part ways. It’s going to feel so weird, she thought, her stomach dropping even further. But she knew Leon wouldn’t be hard to find around camp.

Trailing after Ramona, she kept a polite distance, picking up on the subtle attempt to lighten the mood. Bit by bit, the tension in her shoulders melted away—good fucking bye, anxiety. Screw that.

A soft, breathy laugh escaped her as she shook her head at Ramona’s joke—chickens can’t open doors. “And thank god for that,” she quipped, amusement flickering in her tone. For a moment, she considered knocking her elbow into theirs to carry on the joke, to keep the spirits high—but she hesitated, reminding herself firmly right. Not everyone is like Leon.

She tucked a few loose strands behind her ear before returning her gaze to Ramona, her smile dimming slightly, tinged with awkwardness. She was already knee deep in whatever this thing was between her and Leon—it wasn’t not nothing, but he told you he had to deal with stuff, so chillax.

Clearing her throat and grounding herself back in reality, Billie quickly set her belongings down inside the shed, unbothered by the lack of cleanliness as she claimed a spot in the corner. “Heard a bit about Hugo,” she started slowly, dusting off her now free hands before pivoting to face the farmer. “Is he as scary as people say? 'Cause I’m calling bullshit—oh, shit, sorry, hope we’re allowed to cuss. Y’know, between us girls.”

Ramona snorted. “Doesn’t matter, as long as none of the kids hear you,” she answered. “They’ll snitch just for the fun of it.” The children from her own neck of the woods were one thing—parroting every bad decision laid before them until they were a self-fulfilled “product of a poor environment,” ready to fill their parents’ shoes. Evergreen campers, however, were a different breed. From families rich enough to hold power, they had pull in the way things operated, a fact that many of them would see fit to abuse if given the opportunity. Mona didn’t worry much for herself—she had seniority, not to mention how integral she was to the farmyard now that the one person who could run it better than her was nowhere to be found. Billie, on the other hand, looked one wrong move away from spontaneous combustion—with how much she was fidgeting, Ramona wouldn’t have been all that surprised if she started creating sparks.

“And Hugo is not scary. He’s misunderstood.” The groundskeeper may have looked rough, but it was nothing more than proof that he’d lived. The years hadn’t been particularly kind to him, but far be it from Hugo to let that deter his steady trek onward. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a popular viewpoint—too many campers and counselors alike took everyone and everything at face value before truly getting to know them. “Did Leon tell you that? I don’t know what his deal is, but—”

After ditching the shopping bag in Cabin 3, Lou traded the running shoes for his sturdy work boots and made the trek to the farmyard with haste. In hindsight maybe it wasn't necessary to make the trip at all, but the slight embarrassment surrounding the lack of confidence over the costume he'd chosen for Mona looped his thoughts. Nic had been talking his ear off on the walk back too, rattling off all sorts of gripes and jokes which had left Lou both distracted and oddly at ease with the impending shortage of time. Still, as he set off on his walk, he found himself questioning whether it was silly to surprise Mona yet again.

Surely, that was just part of their friendship. But despite the way they clicked so easily, they hadn't truly been friends—or much of anything—for a long while. He didn't want to get too comfortable and make it weird. Well, maybe it'll make her laugh at least. And that counted for something. Lou willed away the doubts, not allowing himself to overthink for much longer. With all the socializing that drained him out in the last hour, he deserved some peace on his walk alone through the stretch of grass.

He glanced at his wristwatch. I'll be just in time—Hopefully, she's not too mad at me.

As he neared the gate, Lou slowed, pausing to hold it open for a couple of straggling kids who asked if they were late. "Nop’, just in time. We'll probably start in a second here, so sit tight." Well, how would I know? He masked any trace of uncertainty with ease, scanning over his shoulder just in case any more latecomers showed up then shut the gate behind him.

Leon watched Billie trail after Mona, costume in hand and relief—once again—quiets the roaring of his bloodstream, an anxious habit he had no way of controlling when the worries began to pile up. He taps a finger on the wooden fencing in a made-up rhythm, almost reluctant to take his leave after spending the majority of his day by the newcomer’s side.

The gate closing behind draws his attention, a reminder to wait until the farmers are ready on the tip of his tongue for whichever camper gave in to their impatience, only to see—Lou. His answering grin is immediate, a habit of seeing faces he’d grown fond of, greeted by positive memories before the harsh reminder of how different it all was now. His smile wavers only slightly as he throws a hand up by his shoulder, a gesture meant to be a wave in greeting that almost came off as a farewell.

“Lou!” The name flies out before he has time to stop it, overly enthusiastic. “Shit, man. I—I saw your name on the list, but it seemed too good to be true.”

Lou’s eyes were brought from the ground in an instant, his brain filling the blanks of the familiar holler before he’d properly recognized the man behind it. Leon. He didn’t expect to run into him until tonight, assuming there wouldn’t be much time to catch up either way, what with his friend’s demanding position. The corners of his mouth rose, matching Leon’s smile, caught off guard but pleased to finally make contact after so long. “Leon!” He remarked, “Trust me, it’s been hard t’ believe myself.”

“You here t’ check I’m not screwin’ it up already?” Lou joked further, falling into a sense of humor they’d have shared years ago.

At one point, Leon was considered one of his closest friends—Levi and him, once a band of three ducking off to explore the woods and shoot the shit together whenever the opportunity arised. And often they made it happen among any inconveniences. That was years away from them now. Back when Paige dallied around us too. How Lou really started to get to know Paige was because of Leon. It was hard to forget how close and easygoing they all once were before the latter of high school days rolled around and people started changing. Himself included.

He remained engaged in the meeting, though his gaze drew off between their seconds to search for the girl with the flower-encased pendant hanging around her neck. All he saw was greenery and the bobbing and weaving of directionless children chattering amongst themselves. Where’s Mona?

“How’d ya know?” Leon laughed, sparing a small glance to the gathered campers as he crossed the distance between him and his old friend—a lot of that happening today, it seemed—and his smile tightened, reminded of how quickly time passed these days. Should’ve reached out, he chastises himself as Lou’s growth spurt becomes increasingly apparent the closer his legs carry him forward.

He follows Lou’s distracted line of sight, tossing a thumb in the direction Mona escorted Billie to, “our farmers are setting up and getting familiar. Billie is, uh—” replacing hangs at the tip of his tongue and he hurriedly swallows it down, “new, never been here. I’m sure you two won’t give Mona too much of a headache. Too much.” He pinches his fingers until the pads are barely touching, a teasing grin playing on his face, a loose attempt to cover over his almost slip-up.

“Oh, I hope not.” Lou smiled back. Momentarily was he intrigued by the slight unease in his voice. Faced with the old familiarity of his presence, he felt an honest sympathy for him. A part of him wanted to lean in, maybe share some notion of encouragement—respect for handling things despite how difficult the situation really was. He wondered if anyone told him things like that. We’re not that close anymore. The thoughtful gesture fell silent.

So much—too much—has changed. No stranger to inadequacy, Leon isn’t sure how to bridge the gap of those missed years with Lou and fall into the familiar pattern of ease and camaraderie that was once effortless—was it the stretched time, the new position as supervisor, or Renee and Paige’s presence haunting every corner of camp that built up the invisible wall, he wondered.

As Ramona spoke, she spared a backwards glance at Leon, as if he’d offer his input on the matter despite the distance between them, but when her gaze settled on him, she realized he wasn’t alone. The woman exhaled, tail-end of her scrutiny forgotten for the time being as her shoulders eased from their rigid state. “Come on,” Mona started, pushing the door into place again and sealing it. “You should meet our other farmer before it gets too chaotic.”

Any excuse to bring the conversation—herself—into Lou’s vicinity.

Don’t be fucking clingy. What’s wrong with you?

Yet, no amount of chiding could stop Ramona’s feet as they carried her forward, through the churning sea of chickens, to the gate.

Nodding, Billie let her gaze rake over Ramona once more, tilting her head curiously to the side as a smile broke free. Small cracks were starting to slip through—maybe I judged too soon. She doesn’t seem all that bad. Just as she was about to open her mouth to defend Leon regarding Hugo, familiar laughter reached her ears. She turned towards the sound, her expression softening at the sight of said person speaking with another adult, is that the other farmer?

The sudden clang of the shed door slamming shut cut her thoughts short—you should meet our other farmer. “I’d love to!” she answered quickly, relief washing over her. Finally, a proper goodbye to Leon.

Following in tow, Billie quickened her steps, ignoring how close she was to breaking into a jog just to close the distance. No surprise, really—she was swift, slipping easily beside the supervisor, her arm brushing against his. Fingers clasped in front of her as she fought the impulsive urge to take his hand, especially with the two others watching. She tossed her hair out of her face, brown strands settling against her newly tanned skin as she took in the blond counselor—or at least, she assumed—standing before her. With a small wave of her own, she offered a smile she hoped came across as warm as the conversation shifted. “Hey, you must be my other coworker. The name’s Billie.”

Lou’s eyes caught Mona as she walked out, halting the formation of a slight curl at the side of his mouth. He hadn’t noticed the new girl properly until she stood right in front of him and getting a good look now he couldn’t help but recognize her from somewhere. “Oh,” An image appeared in his mind from what had to be weeks—maybe even months ago, he wasn’t so sure. Lou, walking in the rain—crossing the road and peering into a sedan with a bad side-swipe on the driver’s side. A girl curled up in layered blankets with the seat all the way down, asleep. “Right, uh. Lou. Nice t’ meet you.”

Billie felt her expression falter for a split second before quickly reminding herself that she was the odd one out in the group—someone is missing; for all you know, he was probably close with Lisa. She gave a polite nod, rocking back slightly on her heels. “Lou?” she repeated curiously, her mouth twisting into a lopsided smile. “Nice name. Is it short for something?”

“No,” Lou answered with a subtle shake of his head before bantering back, “As a kid I thought they forgot t’ write out the rest uv’ it.”

Ramona’s gaze followed Billie as she found her way to Leon’s side once more, drawn together as if by some magnetic force. First Jonathan, now Leon? The brunette would’ve rolled her eyes if not for the acute awareness of how close she was standing to Lou. She managed instead to force her focus downward and shifted aside, judgmental acts of hypocrisy averted, and in doing so, missed the flicker of recognition that flashed across Lou’s features as he greeted Billie. Had she seen it, she might’ve assumed the worst at the rate the pattern was developing before her, but when Mona’s mouth fell open to say, “How was it?” her words lacked the accusatory tone they would’ve held otherwise in her attempt at breaking the awkwardness that first impressions usually garnered as her attention shifted to address Lou. “Town, I mean.”

“It was fine, yeah,” he said with a casual shrug. “'Lot of people showed up.” His gaze drifted briefly to the necklace still resting where he'd left it before his eyes flicked back to meet hers again. “—and Willamena’s renovating, I guess.”

Lou held back the urge to share how funny Nic and Levi were acting the whole time since she might have found it amusing, but it wasn’t the right moment. Besides, with the new girl around and session starting any minute, it didn't feel all that necessary to mention. Later.

Eavesdropping on the conversation unfolding before her, the Newcomer suddenly perked up at the mention of town. “Oh, a town? You mean…uh—” Her brows knit together as she broke eye contact, tilting her head back to stare at the dusky sky, as if the answer were written in the clouds. “Shit, is it East…erhallow?”

Her gaze dropped, flickering between the three of them with keen interest before finally landing on Leon—the fading sunlight clung to him, tracing the sharp lines of his face with a golden glow, a soft halo catching in the unruly strands of his hair—pretty. Distracting, again.

“You guys are allowed to leave the campgrounds?” she asked, voice laced with curiosity as she instinctively leaned in, her breath hitching with intrigue. A slow grin curled at her lips, “pretty sick.”

East…erhallow? Leon laughs, a careless and breathy exhale that tilts his head upwards. “Easthallow,” he corrects, miffed by the absurdity of living in a town long enough to form a relationship but not commit the name to memory—he related, in part, residing in San Francisco for several years and still forgetting the street names surrounding his suburb.

“It’s not encouraged to leave into town, what with two-hundred and something campers requiring some much needed supervision,” he gestures with a pointed glance at two of the children roughhousing outside the gate, all elbows and digging fingers into their sides—his mouth twitches at the fond memory of him, Levi, and Shiloh in their place, bickering over who would feed the chickens or do the boring job of patting seeds into damp soil. “A special exception is made for the second, or—first—day of camp.”

For a split, horrifying second, embarrassment nipped at Billie’s ankles, creeping up like an unwanted chill—until Leon’s face cracked into a breathless laugh. Relief flooded her system just as quickly, her shoulder loosening in tandem. Okay, at least he doesn’t think I’m an idiot. “Easthallow,” she echoed, nodding slightly as she sounded out the name, as if trying to commit it to muscle memory. Her hand absently looped around her opposite elbow, resting low against her chest in a loose grip.

She listened intently as he spoke, her mind turning over his explanation, yet the words blurred at the edges. No matter how long she lived there—nearly a year now—Easthallow still felt like an enigma, just out of reach, a town she had yet to truly understand. “Maybe next time I’ll get the chance to tag along.” Still so much to see, explore.

Despite ‘into town’ being tacked onto the middle of his first explanation as an unneeded specification, Ramona couldn’t help but wonder if Leon’s words were, in part, directed at her and Lou for their vanishing act that morning. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned it outright thus far—his new position’s entire purpose may have been to oversee Evergreen, but when looking at a big picture, one didn’t always notice a couple of stray brushstrokes. If anything, this was Leon’s assurance that the camp’s operations could still run with a set or two of missing hands, but even that seemed like giving him too much credit as Mona followed his distracted line of sight to the rowdy kids still kept at bay by the locked gate.

Cooper’s friends were as rambunctious as ever, but their horseplay went unnoticed by Ramona’s brother, even as they knocked into him. Cooper stood stone-still, face turned downward as if studying something in the dirt, but his expression wasn’t turned away so much that Mona couldn’t see the frown etched onto his features. Her own mouth twitched, mirroring his. If someone told him about Lisa…

They’d have Ramona to deal with.

Leon’s eyes, fixed firmly on Billie as he spoke, trailed sideways as a glimpse of movement and blonde hair caught his attention—the returning group from Easthallow, sporting plastic shopping bags and sour expressions—his hand drops to the newcomer’s shoulder, attention still on Juliette with the orange ascot he’d requested wrapped around her neck.

“Shi—I mean, damn, I have to go—” He barely caught the curse in time, brows furrowed in apology as he glanced backwards at the eager campers, and then to Billie. His hand falls heavily onto her shoulder, giving it a small and encouraging shake. “You’ll be great, I know it—see you at dinner, yeah? All of you.” His follow up statement he throws towards Mona and Lou, meeting their eyes with a tight smile as he pulls away from their reunion and passes through the gate.

Ramona snorted incredulously as Leon’s attention moved to her and Lou as an afterthought upon his departure. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered in response, her inflection sarcastic. If they saw each other at dinner it’d be nothing more than sheer coincidence of residing in the same building at the same time.

The brunette stepped forward, arm reaching out to catch the gate before it could shut, at last allowing the throng of children to surge through. “The farm’s not going anywhere,” Mona reminded. “No need to trample each other.” She waited for those bringing up the rear of the group—a couple of girls, in clothes too nice for a farmyard, glancing warily at the large basins of dirt as they picked at their manicured nails—to cross over before letting the barrier fall into place.

With the way the campers meandered eagerly throughout the garden, it would’ve been the easier option to let that be the lesson—they were spending time up close with nature and eventually, they’d tire themselves out—but Ramona cared far too much about the state of things to subject the pots and plants to their horseplay. She raised her index finger and thumb to her lips, letting out a sharp whistle to gather their attention before it slipped further from her grasp.

Lou followed, standing to the side of Mona—observing how she’d go about handling the show. Sheesh, has she always been able to whistle like that?

“Let’s reel it in!” Mona called. “We need to go over a few things before we get started.”

Billie’s gaze remained firmly trained on the retreating figure, eyes narrowing slightly as Leon veered left, closing the distance with a group she assumed had just returned from town. A familiar, unwelcome weight settled in her gut, anxiety pooling slowly. Her mouth twisted to the side in thought before she tore her eyes away, forcing herself to refocus—you have an activity to worry about instead.

She cast a brief glance at Lou before settling entirely on Ramona. “Right behind you, boss!” she quipped, her voice cutting through with playful sharpness. A smile softened the edges of her expression, an intentional effort to shake off the lingering overthinking, see him at dinner, no problemo.

With that, she fell into step, leaving the moment behind.



Reluctantly, the children snaked from their various spots between the plots of soil to where the counselors were clustered.

Once they were settled, Mona continued: “I know you’re all here to have fun, but we’ve got some ground rules to cover first. As always, no campers allowed in the potting shed—” The brunette lifted a hand to point out the forbidden building. “—unless we tell you otherwise. If you don’t know what to do, ask—remember, it’s better to get help than get hurt.” Ramona had heard similar spiels from Lisa countless times before, and to hear the words tumbling from her own lips now felt foreign, as if she’d stepped into an alternate reality and was attempting to fill a role she wasn’t quite the right fit for, like when the part of Dorothy had been thrust on her a few infamous camp performances ago solely because of the fact that Macaroni wouldn’t cooperate with an Evergreen. She’d managed then, and maybe, if she was lucky, she could figure it out again.

“Where’s Lisa?” A boy with a shag of coppery hair stepped out of the crowd, looking at Mona expectantly. She recognized him—he’d spent the last summer bestowing oddly-arranged bouquets of wildflowers upon Lisa in what one could only assume was a case of innocent, child-like admiration. He probably wasn’t the only one that’d noticed her absence, either—it seemed to loom over the camp, tainting the very air they breathed.

I can’t fucking do this.

Ramona’s mouth fell shut, hands flexing at her sides as if she hoped to expel her negative energy from her fingertips. She turned her head away before the kids sprawled across from her could catch sight of how her eyebrows pinched together, and instinctively, her gaze sought out Lou’s in a silent plea; for what, exactly, she didn’t know—comfort, help, to cover any quick escape attempts—yet, the longer the silence stretched, the higher suspicions grew.

Lou wasn't exactly surprised by the suspicion. Kids were sharper than they let on, catching wind of things faster than most adults liked to admit. But so soon? It spun him momentarily. Instinctively, he met Mona’s eyes—tension radiating for the brief, loaded moment then looked out towards the crowd once more. The air was tight, like something was bound to snap. Lou knew a quick shift was needed, something to redirect the conversation back in her favor. Something scrambled together in his brain, but it didn't make it out before the new girl filled in the blanks.

Woah. That was all Billie could think as she stood off to the side, watching with mild amazement as Ramona effortlessly navigated the crowd. There was a certain command to the way she moved—confidence, ease—until a question cut through, stopping her in her tracks. Lisa. She watched her shoulders subtly deflate, the energy around the group shifting, and immediately, an uncomfortable chill prickled at her skin. Oh god, she must’ve been really close with the farmer. Anxiety curled around her ribs, squeezing tight. Do something!

Before she could talk herself out of it, Billie shyly stepped forward, slipping into view. She lifted a small hand in greeting, fingers twitching as she offered another one of her signature little waves. “Uh, hi everyone—you can call me Billie,” she started, her voice softer than usual, forcing a casual tinge into her tone that she didn’t quite feel. “I’m actually here replacing Lisa for this summer only.” The words felt heavy on her tongue, but she pushed through, chest tightening with an uncomfortable weirdness. It’s not lying, she’ll be found. She forced a smile, trying to breathe some lightness into the moment. “On vacation—she’s on vacation. Everyone needs a break once in a while, right?”

Billie’s cop-out was seamless—a plain-faced lie, but a decent one. Anyhow, it saved Lou the possibility of screwing it all up with something half-assed. His gaze swept across the crowd, silently wondering if they’d bought it, if the distraction had worked. He kept his expression neutral, so as to not give anything away. As unnerving of a realization it would be that Billie would be replacing such a long-time counselor with no explanation at all, he was just glad the issue could be kept at bay for now.

Mona’s head swiveled toward Billie, swallowing harshly at her choice of words. The woman may have meant well, but the thought of Lisa being replaced sat heavily in the pit of the senior farmer’s stomach. It made her friend’s vacancy seem somehow more permanent. Jonathan doesn’t expect her to be found, either. Billie wouldn’t have been there otherwise.

She couldn’t stop herself from blurting out a correction: “Filling in.” Ramona’s jaw ticked, exhaling sharply through her nose. Stop. It’s not her fault.

“You're right,” Billie mirrored back, ignoring the way her stomach dropped, just for the summer. “Only filling in.”

Blinking, she forced her mind back to the moment at hand, focus returning to the campers with an expression of forced pleasantry. “In the meantime, I hope you all will go easy on Billie and Lou... Or, at least wait until week two for the big pranks—they’re not exactly seasoned professionals like Lisa.” Mona offered a knowing wink to drive home her poor attempt at lightening the mood. “Now, if there’s no more questions, we can get to the cool stuff.”

Excited chatter erupted from the group. It was a simple thing to distract children their age, to dangle something shiny in front of them while the adults took the brunt of their harsh reality.

Ramona wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take before something inside of her snapped.

Much to Lou’s relief, Mona took center stage once more—her voice picking up the conversation as though nothing in the air had changed at all. Cooper entered Lou’s view amongst the return of banter. A small, tight smile on the boy’s face that couldn’t quite reach his eyes—a greeting meant for him. Lou had almost forgot the last time he’d seen him. Cooper, standing on the corner store stoop, hesitant and generally confused while Mona and Lou spoke in serious tones—trying and failing to keep the situation away from the kid. I didn't know if I'd ever see either of them again.

The look in Cooper’s eyes now told Lou a different story. With his new height and baby-faced features starting to sharpen, there was a strong acknowledgement between them that he knew something was off. Lou didn't entertain it, instead offering a brief half-smile in return.


“The soil goes in first,” Ramona explained from her position at the head of the potting table. The farmyard’s larger group had dispersed, splitting into smaller sections for separate activities to fill the next hour. “You want the seed pretty close to the surface. Only about—” She raised her index finger and thumb, holding them, roughly, an inch apart. “—this deep, so they can get enough sunlight, and the roots have plenty of room to grow. When you’re watering them for the next few days, make sure you don’t give them too much—the dirt needs to be damp, not soggy. Any questions?”

“Do we have to use our hands?” piped up one of the girls from earlier, upper lip still curled in disgust as she eyed the open bag of fertilizer propped beside her.

“No, that’s what the scoops are for.” Mona motioned to the trowels laid out between the pots, four of them in total. “There’s only a few of them, so you’ll have to share.” She sent the spoiled camper a pointed look before movement at her side drew her attention away, landing on a boy, presumably one of the youngest in the bunch, as he struggled to tear into a seed packet. “Those can be a little tricky,” Ramona said. “Here.” Her hand extended to take the thin package from his grasp, but the kid had already bent the slick paper to such an awkward angle that only scissors could puncture it now. “I’ll be right back. You guys go ahead and get started.” She sent Billie a nod, signaling that it was her turn to oversee the activity, before taking her leave.

Shadowing people was second nature to Billie. Her years in college studying fashion and practicing design had trained her to listen intently, watch closely, and absorb as much information as possible—just like the campers around her now. Knees planted firmly in the soil, she worked on her own pot, unbothered by the cramped space at the potting table, finding her own footing. As she carefully peeled open the packet of seeds, Ramona’s voice hummed in the background, answering questions.

With her pot nearly complete—just missing a final watering—The Newcomer glanced up and caught said farmer’s gaze. A small nod signaled that it was her time to step in.

“Oh,” she stammered, rising from her kneeled position. She quickly brushed away the specks of dirt on her hands, picking up her pot to place it on the table as a demonstration for the campers to see. “Alright, everyone grab an empty pot. We’ll go step by step. It should look like this,” she explained, brushing off the top layer of soil to show the tiny seeds peeking through. “Let’s start with that.”

Her hands clasped in front of her as she scanned the group, moving to assist those who lacked a scoop. Some grumbled at the thought of getting their hands dirty, while others eagerly took to the task—an amusing contrast that only made the lesson more interesting.

A disgruntled ew pulled Billie’s attention away. A blonde-haired girl frantically shook her hands, trying to rid them of the dirt.

Biting back a grin, she let out a breathless laugh—hopefully not too condescending—as she stepped over to the camper’s side of the table. Before she could say anything, a boy halted her movement, holding out the scoop. She accepted it with a quick “thank you” before turning her focus back to the girl. “You know,” she started, handing over the scoop and gently nudging the pot back into place, “I’ve heard healthy soil is great for your skin.” Her tone was light, hoping to bond with the camper in a familiar way. “It’s not all that bad—have some fun with it.”

Mona rifled through the potting shed’s shelves in search of something even remotely resembling a pair of scissors—gardening shears would get the job done at this point, or a pocket knife—but she came up empty. As a last resort, she poked her head into the greenhouse. “Are there any scissors in here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine jus’ hold the stem steady an’ twist it like this.” Lou pinched the stem and gently flicked it off the vine. He passed it to her, the young girl’s hands outstretched for the fruit—woven basket hanging over her elbow. “How many more?” she asked.

“If they’re all red, they’re all ready.” Lou voiced, the second time the phrase had been said since starting the task. He hadn’t thought about it until now, how the phrase started to sound like the echo of a teacher trying to drill vocabulary into his students. He didn’t like that, but it did roll off the tongue in that sort of way.

“All red, all ready, all red, all ready...” The girl mumbled to herself, skipping away, her voice tumbling over the words like a song that had no meaning except to be remembered. She joined her friends, and from afar Lou could hear how she’d passed it on. The small troup murmuring it together like a brief chant.

He was thankful his group of kids didn’t seem to have much of a problem with listening. The younger kids took it rather serious, showing him the progress of their tasks and asking lots of questions while the older kids complained about it minimally—talking amongst themselves about dinner or what they were going to play after lights-out. He observed their dynamics quietly, the way they fell into patterns—some family members, maybe classmates from their respective cities, or strangers they invited into their circles.

He wondered what it might have been like if he had attended Evergreen the same way these kids did every summer—falling into a routine of scheduled activities then coming home to tell his parents about everything he did. How they might be so charmed by it all that they send him right back and tell the other parents at fundraisers and soccer games how they should consider sending their kids there too. He decided it was nice that things like this existed.

A kid, rushing over to join his friends across another row of vines, stumbled in front of him—the basket shooting out from it’s place on his arm. Lou’s hand snapped out on instinct to save it—barely catching the loose tomato that’d wobbled from the movement. “No need t’ rush,” He said, putting the tomato back in the basket for him, “They’re not goin’ anywhere.” The kid froze, face flushing red, and muttered an apology before gingerly taking the basket and carefully walking the rest of the way.

“Are there any scissors in here?”

Mona’s voice broke through the bustle of the greenhouse and Lou turned, catching the glint of her eyes scanning the space. “Yeah!” he called back to her, crossing to a shelf and reaching to pull a pair of metal scissors from a tin can. He’d thought he might’ve needed them so the kids could take take turns with bigger stalks, but mostly all the ripe tomatoes were on thin enough vines to just pluck off. If he needed to free a few loose ones, he could use his pocket knife. Should probably ask Hugo where to get an extra pair just in case.

“Here.” He said, putting the scissors in her hand. “Only one around, but we don’t need ‘em right now.”

“That’s okay,” Ramona said, fingers brushing against Lou’s as she took the cutting utensil from his grip. “I just need to cut this.” She lifted the seed packet into view, slicing easily through the paper near the top. Afterward, she passed the scissors back with a small smile and a quick, “Thanks.” Then, peering past Lou, her dark eyes roved the interior of the greenhouse. “How’s it going so far?” It was cramped, campers crowded along the row of tomato plants, and Mona couldn’t say that she envied Lou’s station.

Lou watched the movement of her hand, quick and precise through the paper shell. His mind drifted to the skirt and turtleneck, sitting sprawled on his bed among his new camouflage pants, and other scattered belongings. He made sure to throw some things on top of her items, even in his rush to get to the farmyard. It'd be nice if no one paid too much attention to his area. The thought of when to mention the purchase was left in limbo. He glanced over her head at the rows of kids fidgeting by the potting tables—a chaotic, sort of charming mess much like his own experience. She seemed to be handling it all well though. Lou accepted the scissors, placing his arm at his side. After.

“Uh, well,” Lou followed her gaze for a moment, his posture shifting as he evaluated the state of things in his brief absence. “Good. I think.” He offered a slight grin, “It’s been fun. How’s it goin’ out there?”

Mona nodded, eyebrows shooting up when faced with the same inquiry. “It’s, uh…” There were too many young ears around for her to tell Lou how badly she felt like a fraud, that she was just following the guideline she’d seen Lisa unknowingly lay out for her in the years prior. It helped, though a nearly-imperceptible amount, that most of the kids recognized her presence on the farm well enough not to question Ramona’s sudden switch to the role of authority too much, but if the police didn’t recover Lisa soon, she feared the questions of her whereabouts would only increase, and Mona didn’t have the sort of answers to offer in return that she wished she did. “It’s okay,” she finally managed. Not a lie, but those two words harbored more truth between the lines than she could currently admit. “Nothing I can’t handle.” For now.

The brunette lowered her voice before continuing, “When you guys are done in here, would you mind taking them to the kitchen? I did it yesterday, but…” I don’t want to see Juliette again. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, free hand lifting to rake a bit of loose hair behind her ear. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I can make do.” Behind Ramona, Billie was where she’d left her at the potting table—she appeared to be doing fairly well, but she was still new. Ideally, Mona could ask her to escort the tomatoes and the children helping to carry them to the kitchen, but did she even know the way?

While Lou was confident in her ability to lead, he assumed Lisa still lingered through her thoughts carrying out all these activities She was holding it together—managing well for the kids despite the circumstance—and that’s what mattered. Even so, he imagined it had to be jarring in some regard. Mona was always this way, even in their youth. When things were difficult at home, and he knew about it, seldom did she let it show enough for anyone to notice. It was admirable to be able to separate that especially in times like these.

When she’d asked for his help, Lou immediately nodded an agreement—eager to ease her anxieties if in any way he could. “I can do that.” he reassured her, hoping to indicate it was no problem to him at all. She’d been shouldering so much of the responsibility all day. It only seemed fair he picked up the slack, something he felt he should have been more proactive about anyways. “I’ll make sure they get there on time.”

Ramona exhaled, relief smoothing over her features. “Thanks,” she said, corners of her mouth lifting in appreciation. “I should probably—” The brunette nodded in the direction she’d come. “—get back. I’ll talk to you later.” Before she could concoct yet another reason to stay, Mona coerced herself into retreat to her prior duties.

As soon as he was within reach, Ramona returned the packet in her grasp to the boy who’d fought a losing battle against it in the first place. “Sorry about that,” she offered, though he didn’t seem all that perturbed by her prolonged break, taking the package and greedily poking his pudgy fingers into the depths in search of the seeds it contained. “Save some for the others,” Mona told him, then stepped back to observe the scene, her arms crossing against her torso. Once Billie had freed herself from the clutches of the neediest among their group of campers, Ramona sidled up to her, passing an approving glance to her fellow farmer. “I think they like you,” she started. “There’s no screaming and crying—that’s always a good sign, and the first day is the hardest.”

Just because Lisa’s gone, Mona reminded herself, doesn’t mean you have to do this alone.

This isn’t so bad. Hands accustomed to crafting sweaters now worked with delicate precision, gently capping off a camper’s pot with soil. Billie spoke softly, explaining to the girl from before how seeds shouldn’t be planted too deep—otherwise, they wouldn’t have enough room to grow. It was something she had memorized, a tidbit Ramona had pointed out earlier in the session, and she repeated it with quiet confidence.

Satisfied that the camper had the rest under control, she shifted to move on, ready to assist the next kid—only to stop short. Lifting her head, she spotted the other farmer approaching and dusted off her hands once more as she stood, surprised to realize they were nearly the same height—only an inch shorter.

“Hey—oh!” Billie hadn’t expected the compliment, and to her surprise, it did wonders for her mood. A grin cracked in place as she beamed. “Thanks, it was nothing—had a good teacher.”

Not wanting her words to sting under the circumstances, she quickly added, “It’s really them liking you. I was just reminding them what you explained earlier.” Her gaze flickered past Ramona’s shoulder, catching sight of Lou with his own group before returning to the brunette.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Mona countered. “They trust that I know what I’m talking about, but there’s a difference.” She paused, shrugging. “I’m glad it helps, though.”

Billie had always been known for talking faster than she could think, words tumbling out before she could filter them. And true to form, she blurted out, “you guys seem really sweet, by the way.” If she was startled by her own admission, she didn’t let it show, deciding to roll with it. She wasn’t blind to how the two moved around each other—one leading, the other naturally following, as if tethered by something unseen. “How long?”

Mona’s eyebrows pinched together, pleasant expression dropping to one of mild confusion. “How long—what?” Billie’s question felt unfinished, too much left to the imagination, until Ramona turned, following the other woman’s line of sight to the greenhouse. You guys seem really sweet.

“Oh.”

Oh.

For nearly as long as they’d known each other, Mona and Lou had been staving off the allegations that guys and girls couldn’t just be friends—the product of a closeness formed on the precarious precipice of transitioning to a teenager in a town where there was little more to do than churn the rumor mill. The brunette had heard variations of that same accusation countless times before—though nothing could be quite so bad as when the Fairview High School’s baseball team, along with a couple of the upperclassmen on Ramona’s own soccer team, had convinced all of their peers that the two of them had hooked up while Mona had the flu and that was why Lou had gotten sick, too—but she was so out of practice now that whatever eye roll and irritated quip the farmer would’ve met the comment with before stalled. In fact, for a moment that stretched too widely in silence, all that Ramona could do was stare.

“We’re not—” Mona plucked the locket, inexplicably warmer against her skin, from its spot, dragging it along the chain. “We’ve been friends forever, but it’s not like that.” Any embarrassment was kept at bay only by the realization that Billie, as far as she could tell, had no room to judge, and the brunette’s jaw clamped shut to keep that biting remark trapped in her throat as she brushed past Billie, suddenly far too interested in fetching the watering hose for the campers whose pots were ready for it.

Drawn to the movement, Billie’s gaze dropped, catching sight of a hand fiddling with what appeared to be a heart-shaped centerpiece, flowers snugly decorating the edges. Her first thought was—that’s lovely—before realizing she was staring at a locket.

Ramona spoke, but cut herself off, yanking her attention back. Her brows knit slightly as she listened patiently, only for the flicker of a smile to fade at the corners of her lips. She understood, completely. Been there, totally get it, she thought sadly as the other girl quickly left without uttering another word, hurrying off to rejoin the activity.

With an apology caught in her throat, Billie glanced away, catching a fleeting glimpse of Lou’s retreating figure before shifting her focus back to the table. The campers sat idly, waiting for their next instruction. Way to go, buzzkill, she muttered inwardly, shaking off the lingering heaviness before forcing her feet to move, slipping back into the new rhythm of assisting the kids.

A shadow fell across Ramona’s hunched form as she unwound the rubber hose from its spot, coiled tightly like a snake lying in wait among the tall grass at the base of the potting shed. She paused her movements, hand raising to shield her eyes from the sunbeams cascading overhead as she glanced upward, gaze settling on her brother as he shuffled his sneakers in the dirt, hands buried in the front pockets of his cargo shorts. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

As noted before the farming activities had properly begun, Cooper’s demeanor had shifted since his exchange with Mona the night prior—gone was his characteristic snippiness, and in its place was a certain timidity, accentuated by how the boy’s eyes darted sideways in the wake of his question.

The dark-haired woman straightened, wiping her palms on the front of her denim shorts. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice gentle, as if speaking to a stray cat that might bolt at any abrupt movements. “Of course.”

“Alone.”

Ramona’s mouth dipped into a frown, brows knit together with threads of concern, but, nonetheless, she led the way into the small building beside them without pressing him further, pulling the door into place once they were both safely tucked inside before turning to Cooper expectantly.

“Promise you won’t get mad.”

The farmer tentatively dismissed Lisa’s disappearance as the cause for the boy’s distress. “Why would I get mad?”

“Mona.”

Cooper had been so distant lately that his cautious choice to reach out at all was a miracle in and of itself, one that the farmer wasn’t willing to shatter with the barrage of questions racing rampantly through her brain:

Did you do something bad? Are you in trouble? Are you hurt? Did someone else hurt you? Was it a fight—

“Okay,” Ramona relented, hands held up defensively. “I promise.”

Cooper let out a shuddering breath. “Last night, after dinner, me and my friends went out to the woods.” He paused, as if subconsciously allowing space for Mona to interrupt, but she refrained any commentary, save for the disappointment flickering across her face. “I know you said not to,” the boy continued, “but we didn’t even do anything! We weren’t actually gonna go out there in the first place, but we’ve got Kenny in our cabin this year—you know how annoying he is. He called us over to play some dorky card game with him—the one with the dragons—but we ran into the trees to hide for a while. I dunno how long we were out there, but it was dark by the time we started walking back, and we were almost to camp when we heard a wolf howling somewhere. It was funny to start with, but—” Cooper swallowed harshly, finally giving himself the opportunity to collect his thoughts. “We were howling back, and it kept getting closer.” He shook his head. “It sounds stupid now, but it kinda freaked us out.”

Yeah, it sounds stupid because it is. Why would you do that?

Yet, Ramona willed her expression to remain stoically unreadable. “The wolf was probably just lost and confused,” she assured, but the lie tasted sour as it rolled off her tongue. While Cooper nodded, seemingly placated by the explanation, and exited to rejoin his fellow campers, Mona’s mind wandered back to the worn pages of the nature journal stuffed behind a pile of her own belongings. Coincidence, she tried to tell herself, but then, Lou’s story pushed its way to the forefront of her thoughts.

A broken window. Tuft of fur. Blood.

Ramona spun in place, like a different angle would be enough to evade the worry settling heavily into the pit of her stomach, but her eyes caught on the hairy, animalistic mask snarling at her from the corner of the shed, and her heart leapt into her throat for a moment before recognition swept over her like a cooling breeze on a balmy afternoon.

Was there something out there to be afraid of, though?

Lou had been wrapped up in the pulse of work—sorting through the scramble of kids finishing up their baskets—adjusting stems and pulling errand leaves in order to coax the late bloomers. Once everyone had all their belongings situated, they all shuffled out of the greenhouse doors, creating a wave of commotion at the farmyard. Kids stood up from their dirt mounds with streaked faces and rolled up sleeves, tossing goodbyes at the moving troop—many a ”See you later!” and “Save me a spot!” before they disappeared past the farmyard gates.

He called over Milo, a taller kid who’d been sporting an arm sling all session, to lead the pack toward the center of the grassy clearing and to keep them anchored while Lou made sure every basket-bearing kid had cleared the gates. Lou held the door open, balancing the large box of tomatoes on his forearms. Before his eyes could catch up with his thoughts, he corrected himself preemptively—You don’t have to look for her every chance you get. A reminder he’d disobey anyways, his gaze darting amongst the crowd to steal a glance.

She was nowhere in sight. No sign of Cooper either, though he figured the boy could easily be swallowed up in the placements of dark-haired kids hunched over their own sections of plots. The last kids from his group slipped through the gate, arms interlocked as they skipped to join the rest of the congregation. Lou turned away, sliding the gate behind him and mentally shrugging it off. Probably jus’ busy doin’ somethin’.

“Alright, go ‘head!” Lou called out steadily, tossing a nod at Milo and his friends at the top of small hill. Instinctively, he shifted the crate on his right forearm, fingers fumbling for the cigarette case tucked in his back pocket. Ah shit. I can’t. He slid it back into place and readjusted his grip beneath the box. Behind him, two boys lagged, laughing between themselves as they scrambled to keep up—walking backwards on their heels. Lou slowed just a beat to stay behind them, a sigh slipping through as he cursed his inability to make it a goddamn hour without a cigarette—and the fact that he would be the type to fixate on the end of all this looming over him, just so he could smoke one. When one of the boys suggested they turn their backwards walking into a full-on race to the dining hall, Lou pretended not to hear it. The boys double-knotted the rope strings holding their baskets and took off in a childish sprint. Almost there… Lou thought, the kitchen's back doors drawing closer now.

Billie stood with her section, watching as a younger camper pulled Ramona aside for a private discussion. The farmer reacted quickly, retrieving the hose to water the pots—must have been important. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so she clapped her hands lightly to draw the campers’ attention, not missing the subtle "there he goes again, stealing Mona away." Mona?

“Alright, let’s line up two by two,” she instructed, motioning for them to form a straight line in front of her. “Since we’re nearing the end of the activity, I want these last few minutes to be more immersive.” She stayed close, crouching down to their height, holding up her own pot as an example. “Too much water equals a damaged herb,” she explained, dragging her index finger through the soil to show the right consistency. “Keep the soil moist, but not saturated. Uh—” She hesitated, realizing she might’ve lost them with that word. “I mean, not like…a swamp, sopping wet! That’s a better word.”

A few chuckles broke out, and she laughed along, giving a sheepish shrug as she waved dismissively in a cheerful manner. “Soggy soil is a no-go.”

Carefully, she handed the hose to a young boy beside her, holding his pot steady as he followed her instructions. Nodding in approval, she watched as the campers took turns, their concentration making her smile. Before she knew it, the activity had wrapped up, met with excited cheers and murmurs of hope that they’d get to see the chickens next time. “Hope so,” she answered easily, knowing that it probably wouldn’t be an issue at all.

As the campers cheered and made their way off, she stretched, rolling her shoulders before quickly cleaning up the leftover mess—neatly placing the pots back on the table and rolling the hose before making her way towards the shed where her things were, only to stop in her tracks, biting her lip to stifle a giggle—Ramona had just spooked herself from the wolf mask.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to laugh—” Billie started, though she was clearly amused. “It’s just so relatable.” She stepped closer, retrieving the costume while glancing at Ramona, curious eyes exploring before tilting her head to the side. “You kinda look like you’ve seen a ghost. You alright?” But before she got too distracted, something clicked, and she snapped her fingers. “Oh! By the way—dinner’s soon, apparently. Do you, uh…wanna walk up together?”

Mona tensed at the realization she had an uninvited witness to her stress, face hardening as she stepped back, allowing room for Billie to pass. “I’m fine,” she said, voice coming out harsher than intended. “Don’t worry about it.” The brunette turned towards the doorway, making a swift exit to discourage any further discussion on the matter. The last thing she needed was for the new girl to catch on to the often-absurd inner workings of her brain so early in their partnership.

As she emerged into the sunlight again, Ramona’s eyes drifted to the greenhouse, only to find that its inhabitants had already departed for the kitchen. She lifted her wrist, watch face angling into view. Billie was right—dinner was swiftly approaching. “Yeah,” Mona answered with a shrug—a last-ditch attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Sure. We need to take the kids to get washed up anyway.”

Oof. Bad time. Billie noted Ramona’s sudden shift, her brows dipping slightly in concern, but she decided against prying, casting her gaze elsewhere instead. “I’ll try not to,” she mumbled more to herself than anyone else, hearing the other walk away—ending the conversation as quickly as it had begun.

With a small defeated sigh, she grabbed the mask and her bag before closing the shed, double checking that everything was settled and locked up properly. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to say goodbye. I don’t want to be rude.

Before she could decide, Ramona made the call for her. To her surprise, she agreed, mentioning they should probably also get the campers cleaned up. Oh, Billie thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Right. Duh!

“Damn, you’re right about that, how could I forget?” she chuckled, trying to ease the tension. As her gaze dropped to the group waiting near the gate, she squeezed herself through, unlocking it and letting it swing open. The familiar clamp of the lock echoed behind her as Ramona secured the area for the night.

They headed toward the communal bathrooms, and while she kept her mouth shut, her eyes flickered to Ramona once in a while. There was a distant look in the other girl’s eyes, something that made Billie want to say something, anything—but she held back. She’s fine, I’m sure.

Instead, she went to wash her own hands beneath the sink, flashing a grin at the campers. “Alright, don’t be too long, everyone! Don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”
code by valen t.
 
E

Ezzy was glad to throw himself into the survival activities. Wrangling a group of teenagers really did take all of his attention and he didn’t have much time to think about anything else except the two campers that were currently swinging massive branches at each other in a mock fight—expressly against Ezzy’s instructions.

“Hey,” he called, snatching the branch away from the little gremlin. “That doesn’t look like building a shelter.”

The boy rolled his eyes dramatically and so did his friend.

“We were just sword fighting,” the kid complained, reaching for the makeshift weapon again, but Ezzy only held it up higher. He was never more thankful for his height than he was in the two weeks he spent as a counsellor. It came in handy.

“Well you can’t defend your castle if you don’t have one,” Ezzy told him in an as-a-matter-a-fact tone. “That’s a pretty trash castle.” He pointed at the rest of the group a few feet away, milling around and poking at the pile of sticks and branches.

“We could be mercenaries,” the boy countered smugly. “They don’t have castles.” He was giving him an annoyed look, but Ezzy really could not care less. If it were another camper, he would have adjusted his tone and been a little more patient. He remembered this kid from last year though. They hadn’t interacted much, and the kid didn’t seem to remember Ezzy, but the counselor was seasoned and he knew exactly what kind of teenager this camper was. You give him an inch, he’d take a mile. Ezzy had to nip this in the bud now to make the rest of the week easier.

“Sorry, mercenaries are illegal at camp Evergreen,” he stated flatly, a note of finality in his voice. He didn’t break eye contact, his expression deeply serious and unsettlingly intense. “I’d have to lock you in the dungeon under the administrative building. Is that what you want? It’s pretty dark and dingy down there. You’ll have to pee in a bucket.”

Two could play at this game.

The boy didn’t seem to expect Ezzy to drop to his childish level, eyes widening slightly. Campers tended to fall in line when Ezzy pushed back. He was certain that his appearance played a major role in that, but it was also because they didn’t expect it, given how criminally lax Ezzy was about everything else. It made the moments when he drew the line more intimidating.

The counsellor capitalized on the moment of hesitation.

“Maybe if you help the rest of your group you can train in sword fighting later,” he suggested with a pointed look. Bartering with a thirteen year old was certainly a skill. “If you go back now, I’ll overlook this act of treason.”

The camper exchanged a glance with his friend and they seemed to telepathically debate the pros and cons before deciding that for whatever reason, they didn’t think this fight was worth it. They cast Ezzy a weirded out look and ran off back to the group.

Ezzy smiled to himself, satisfied with the way that had panned out. He carried the branch back to the shelter, which was beginning to take shape, and threw himself back into the work of helping out the campers. It was an enjoyable experience and Ezzy found himself genuinely goofing around for the first time that day.

The shelter at the end looked like it was in shambles, but it held, and the campers seemed proud of it. Ezzy wrapped up the activity and sent the group off to dinner. He followed along at a slower pace, breathing in and taking in the fresh air. He didn’t remember the seating arrangements and all he could do now was pray that it would all work out. It couldn’t be any more intense than this morning, at least.

Ezzy runs a shelter building activity
ezekiel (ezzy) arrington
location:
camp evergreen; survivalist campsite
outfit:
mentions/interactions:
npc campers.
 






riley kelson




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































CIL



bloodsucker









Riley crouched near the disorganized pile of sticks, arms resting on her knees as she raised a single eyebrow at the campers in front of her. They stared back, looking equally frustrated and lost, like they’d been trying to summon flames through sheer willpower alone and now wanted her to tell them what to do.

"Alright," she started, dragging out the word as she gestured to the pile. "What exactly is this? Because if the goal was to make an actual fire out in the woods, we’re in trouble." Not to mention all these kids would freeze to death if not for her help.

"It’s… a fire?" Jake, a blonde kid wearing a Yankees cap backward, offered weakly, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly.

Kid must be taking notes from Leon. "Right." Riley pursed her lips. "And I’m the queen of England." She stated sarcastically, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect.

Mia, a girl with red hair and a no-nonsense expression, sighed. "We thought we did it right.” She huffed out, crossing her arms over her chest. “We got the sticks like you told us to, and they’re dry." Mia complained with a whine.

"Sure," Riley said, nodding. "And if you were trying to build the most flammable bird’s nest, you’d be winning. But if you actually want a fire? We need to talk."

Owen, a lanky kid with a bowl cut that looked like his mom was still cutting his hair in their bathroom, crossed his arms— clearly following what Mia did. "So what are we doing wrong?"

Riley stood, brushing the dirt off her jeans. "Oh, so now you’re interested. Great. Let’s break it down before I start feeling like a bad teacher." She nudged some of the sticks aside with the toe of her sneakers. "Fire needs three things to survive,” Riley listed her hand into a fist before lifting one finger after the other as she listed off the necessary components, “heat, oxygen, and fuel. You’ve got fuel, but unless one of you can shoot fire from your hands, you’re gonna need a better setup."

Jake squatted down and poked at the sticks. "So what do we do?" He asked, tilting his head to stare at the counselor.

"Well first, we start small. What catches fire easiest?" She glanced at them, waiting.

Mia twirled a piece of her hair. "The little stuff?” She tried, looking to Riley for confirmation. “Like, um, dried grass?"

"Good job." Riley clapped her hands together once. "There’s hope for us yet after all. That’s called tinder— it’s what actually catches the spark first. Not big sticks like logs. Definitely not whatever cursed pile of disappointment you originally threw together."

Owen smirked. "So dramatic."

"You have no idea." Riley reached down, picking up a handful of shredded bark and thin twigs. "Next, we build up. After the tinder, we add kindling— small sticks, like these.” She lifted the twigs for the three to see. “It feeds the flame without smothering it. Then, once the fire is strong enough, you add your fuel logs. But if you try to start with those first, congratulations— you’ve just made a very flammable paperweight."

Jake scratched his head. "So we should, like, stack them?"

Riley nodded her head. "Yes. And not just in some random pile. Fire needs air. You can’t cram everything together with zero space to breath other it’s gonna suffocate before it even gets going. Think of building it like a teepee or a log cabin— something that lets air flow through." She arranged the kindling into a loose pyramid over the tinder. "Like this. Now, who wants to actually make fire happen?"

Mia immediately nudged Owen with her hip, looking to him with an expectant glare. "You do it."

"Why me?" Owen asked in an offended tone, looking towards Mia like he was a lamb being sent to the slaughterhouse.

"Because you’ve been standing there looking bored this entire time," Riley said, tossing him the fire starter. Your parents pay good money to send you here, at least pretend to be interested. “Don’t think I didn’t notice, kid.” She tossed him the fire starter, watching as he caught it, barely, fumbling for a second before scowling.

"Fine," he muttered, crouching down. He scraped the metal against the fire steel, sending a few weak sparks onto the tinder. Nothing happened. He tried again and this time, a tiny flicker of smoke curled up.

Jake and Mia leaned in over him, eyes wide. Riley crossed her arms, nodding in approval. "Gently blow on it," she instructed. "And I do mean gently. You’re coaxing it to life, not trying to put out a birthday candle, got it?"

Owen exhaled carefully, and the tiny ember glowed brighter, and brighter. Then, slowly, a small flame caught on the bark. The group collectively held their breath as the kindling began to catch, the fire growing bit by bit.

"Holy crap," Jake whispered, like speaking too loudly would jinx it. "It’s actually working."

"Wow. A true miracle," Riley said dryly, though her lips were quirked up into a smile. "It’s almost like I knew what I was talking about this entire time." The flames grew stronger, licking at the kindling. Riley felt a swell of pride lick at her ego, the same as every year, seeing the kids actually take to her teaching. For a moment she wondered if this was how her father felt when he taught her when she was still a kid. "Alright, now this is a fire. Try not to mess it up. I’d hate to have to start writing your survival eulogies this early in the week."

Mia grinned, looking proud as if they had just done something worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize. "So… are we the best group?"

Riley shrugged as she stood up to full height, moving to tousle the top of the girls head before pulling away as she complained and swatted at her hand. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But hey—at least you’re not a total lost cause. That’s something." Riley gave the group one last approving nod before dusting off her hands. "Alright, fire starters, keep an eye on it and don’t go throwing anything stupid in there. I have to go make sure the rest of your fellow campers aren’t about to burn the forest down." She turned on her heel and headed toward another group struggling to get even a wisp of smoke going, shaking her head as she heard someone say, "Maybe we just need more sticks…."

By the time she made her rounds, the fires were flickering steadily across the clearing, and the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. Dinner would be soon, which meant it was time to wrap things up. She returned to the groups and clapped her hands together to get their attention. "Alright, fire bugs, fun’s over. Time to put these out before we all get blamed for arson." She walked them through the proper way to smother the flames— spreading out the embers, pouring water slowly to avoid sending up a cloud of steam, and stirring the ashes until they were cool to the touch. Only when every last ember was out did she finally nod in approval.

"Nice work. No accidental forest fires, and you all get to eat dinner without smelling like burnt hair," she said, smirking. "Now go. Before they run out of whatever mystery meat is on the menu tonight." She listened in amusement as a few campers listed out exclamations of ‘Ewww’ but for the most part the campers didn’t need to be told twice— taking off toward the dining hall, chattering excitedly about their fires.

Riley lingered for a moment, scanning the extinguished pits one last time before stuffing her hands into her pockets and heading after them. Another day, another group of kids slightly less useless in the wilderness. Not bad.





♡coded by uxie♡
 
MOOD:
Liv ("What the hell")
Marquis (Ready to disappear)
Liberty (Antsy)
Alton (Wounded)


LOCATION: Med-Bay
basics
INTERACTING

lostbird lostbird
blue UP blue UP
evermoon evermoon
Wyll Wyll
tags
TL;DR Marquis, Liberty and Alton head to the Med-May after the big announcement. Liberty goes shopping, Marquis freaks out, Alton plays nice, and Liv walks into the hot mess.
tl;dr
Med-Bay Crew
marquis solis, liberty fallon, alton chambers, olivia meza-twine

Marquis frowned as Juliette tried reassuring him. By no fault of hers, he was very much not reassured. If anything, he wanted to stick closer to her than ever before. Previously, he could have convinced himself that whatever happened only happened to the Evergreens because of their last name. Family drama or whatever - the lives of the rich wasn’t something he concerned himself with very often.

However, Lisa wasn’t an Evergreen. In fact, from what he knew, she and the Evergreen girls, even Isla, barely had - or wanted - anything to do with each other. Lisa was about as random of a target as one could have. The only thing that tied her to the Evergreens was that she too was a girl.

Was it a far-fetched theory? Yes and no. But when no other information was provided, it made sense for people to try and start finding their own answers. And the one Quis had found, at least for now, was that there was some sicko in the woods going after girls who wandered off on their own. He had no way to prove it and he wasn’t entirely sure that even he believed it, but it was the best he had for now.

And then he heard someone laughing. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but the laughter only grew. Turning, he saw Thomas. Initially, he had wanted to believe that the rumors about Thomas were nothing more than just rumors. But the boy was most definitely not helping his case.

He pushed Thomas and his lack of emotional intelligence to the back of his mind and turned to face Juliette again. However, Leon was here now. Of the others in the camp, Leon was one he could trust to have a good head on his shoulders and genuinely be interested in what was in the best interest for everyone. Plus, as he turned, he caught Liberty’s eyes from across the room and his frown grew deeper. She was going to have a lot to say.

He forced a smile back on to his features as he waved goodbye to Juliette, even waving at Leon as well before walking off to meet Libby.

Lisa Xander. Liberty sighs, quiet and reluctant—turning her gaze towards Mona to gauge her reaction. It was hard to miss the close connections made at this camp; an unlikely side-effect to Renee's reign of terror was, ironically, unity. Easy to tell who was on what side when it came to the rumour mill. Just like with Isla, Liberty was hesitant to feel guilt for people she had no trust for, but she sympathised for Mona's loss.

Debating whether or not to check on her, Liberty's attention is drawn to a hasty laugh, from Thomas, no less. He follows Levi's footsteps and shoves out of the Dining Hall. Her brow twitches, confused—well, they weren't close, what was so funny?

Twisting at the waist, Liberty looks for Isla—if she had seen someone laugh and storm out like that, with her own sisters' missing, there would be an issue. But Isla's stifling her own laugh, her long fingers pressed over her mouth. Marquis is already making his way to her, a hesitant frown on his face—yes, I have a lot to say.

Irritated, Liberty stands abruptly, snatching her bag up with her. "Missing girls must be a funny topic around here." Her eyes pin down Isla, noting how the Evergreen had already collected herself from the slip-up. Apple doesn't fall as far as I thought. She wasn't about to point fingers, not without evidence, but Liberty wasn't about to put murder past Isla—killing an Evergreen critic in revenge—or anyone here.

Liberty's eyes meet Marquis' in silent acknowledgement—let's go—and makes for the exit, with every intention to spend the majority of her day picking apart all she'd learned; what little there was.

Knowing that Liberty’s eyes allowed no room for discussion, Marquis sighed and stuck his hands in his pocket, slowly making his way over to the doors. This is going to be a very long day, I can just feel it. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, per se, but hopefully he was wrong.

Alt had barely heard any of that. The disappointed look on Jonathan’s face popped up whenever he blinked. He’d already known about Lisa, but he hadn’t processed it then. And honestly, he wasn’t processing it now. Instead, he was repeatedly playing that previous moment in his head. Things had started so well, but they had gone downhill–fast. He felt both queasy and parched at the same time. It was then he realized he hadn’t taken his meds for the day, and more so–he hadn’t eaten.

He stood when it became too awkward to continue to sit there. Everyone shared glances, almost as if accusing each other of doing it. Who would want to kidnap Lisa? He thought. No one here had the patience or the space to do it. Maybe Hugo, but Hugo seemed like the sort that would loathe having anyone else in his shed but him–much less three college-age girls.

Alt held his hurt hand gingerly in his other one and moved towards the exit. He needed to get to the Medbay first to avoid any questioning. But lo and behold, both Marquis and Liberty stood in the entranceway–his medbay co-conspirators.

“If it isn’t the Wicked Witch of the East. Aren’t you late for being crushed by a house?” Alt asked, very rhetorically, to Liberty.

Arriving at the doors, Marquis was about to try and start a conversation - any conversation - that wasn’t related to the news they had just received, but when he opened his mouth to speak, another voice was heard instead. Taken aback, he turned and saw that Alton had joined them. It was rare that all three of them bumped into each other outside of the Medbay, but - given that they were all probably headed that way right now anyway - it made sense for this instance.

It would seem like Alt also plans to hide from the news. Even if he was wrong, he chose to believe that all three of them were going to the Medbay to hide and pretend like they hadn’t just heard what Leon said. At least, that way, he wasn’t alone in his cowardice which made him feel slightly less pathetic.

An exasperated sigh pulled itself from Quis’ lips as Alton spoke. “Alton…can you not be the antagonist for two seconds? Just two? Please?” Frankly, he wasn’t saying it purely in defense of Liberty; anybody that knows her knows that she needs no defending and might actually get upset at the proposal of a knight in shining armor. More than anything, he spoke up because there was too much on his mind right now for him to have Alton getting under his skin. He began walking, not caring whether the other two followed him, making a beeline for the Medbay.

Liberty stares at Marquis’ retreating back for just a moment, repressing a sigh. She drags her gaze to Alton with an expectant look, distinctively feeling as if the restful night's sleep will amount to nothing. “Anything else to say?”

Alt just rolled his eyes at Marquis and held his hands up as if in defeat.

I just wanted camp. The same camp that has been home for me since I was a child. The same camp that gave me the coolest people I know today. The camp that has always been a safe place… There were a lot of emotions confusing themselves, and Marquis, in his mind, each one fighting for dominance over the other and it left him feeling numb. So numb that the barrier between thought and speech, without his knowing, was broken down. Never had Marquis ever imagined that he would regret coming to camp, but… “Coming back here was a mistake…” The words offered themselves like a feather on his breath.

Pushing out of the door, Liberty not-so-subtly looks around for a trace of Levi and pretends not to be disheartened as his figure is nowhere to be seen. He’ll be fine... It was infuriating, knowing the source of his misery at this camp was gone only to be hit with the news of Lisa, right when things were looking up. She pauses, eyes falling to the Lake as she considers the very real possibility of where Lisa might be—and shakes the thought off, feeling it might be disrespectful to Levi to even think of his friend’s disappearance as a mystery needing to be solved.

Following the path to the med-bay and a ways behind Marquis, Liberty spends the walk reflecting on the morning—the clues, Levi, the news, truth or dare—and promptly sighs, turning on her heel to face Alton as she walks backwards, slow and careful. “Planning on dressing up?”

Alton followed, wrapping his arms around himself. This was unbearable. Lisa was missing. And worse yet, he couldn’t get Jonathan’s look out from behind his eyes. He’d fucked up. A nauseousness started to bubble in the bottom of his stomach–an anxious churning that made him want to throw up, run, scream, or all three.

“One.” He paused. “Two.” It was then he looked pointedly at Liberty. “Liberty, ask yourself, is this the best you can do with small talk?” He rolled his eyes. “No. What about you?”

Marquis wasn’t too fond of the idea of sticking around to chat, or even have serious conversation - there were far too many thoughts running rampant in his head; to many emotions all fighting to take first place in his heart. This was once the safest place in the world for him. This was once were he would go to run away from the world and all of its chaos. This was the one place he felt like he belonged. And now, it was all being torn down. The sisters going “missing”, Lisa also going missing, and he was powerless to stop any of it.

He was famous for saying how he’d be there, how he could always be counted on. But the reality was that, when faced with the truly crazy things, the truly evil things, there was absolutely nothing he could do. He was about as helpful as an ice machine in the winter.

The spiraling of his thoughts only caused him to walk faster, making it to the Med Bay before Liberty and Alton. He paces restlessly, a well of frustration running deep within him and threatening to burst in the most unpleasant of ways. Unable to contain it, he lets out a bitter cry and punches the wall, causing the wall to shake ever so slightly. The shaking caused something to roll off a shelf, landing with a dull thud on the wooden floor.

Quis shakes his hands, the throbbing sensation making it clear to him that perhaps punching a hard, wooden wall was not one of his brightest ideas. Especially given that it did little to help his frustration. He cussed under his breath as he rubbed his knuckles, walking over to where a weird-looking wooden cylinder lay on the floor, rolling from its recent fall.

He sighed, disappointed in himself for making what he considered to be a mess, as he picked up the item. It looked like one of those totems from movies he’d watch and even touching it made him deeply uncomfortable. However, something about it invited him to look closer. Almost as though in a trance, as if compelled by something unseen, he spun the totem in his hand until a vision was birthed in his mind. It showed the Dining Hall, panning over the bulletin board. The vision stayed on the bulletin board for a moment, and then returned him to the Med Bay, leaving him entirely disoriented, resulting in him dropping the totem again. What the hell?

Liberty mimics Alton’s roll of his eyes, annoyed by his abrasiveness. “With you? Yes.” She pauses her walk until he falls into step with her, turning in time to see Marquis quicken his pace towards the med-bay. Traitor, she inwardly sighs and crosses her arms. “No. Guess I’ll head into town later. I can pick up something for you, if you want.”

Before he can make an off-handed comment about her ability to care, she rushes out, “I’m thinking of the thrift store or costume shop, so nothing too out of hand, please.”

Alton shrugged. “Just find me a thick white sheet or blanket. I’ll go as a ghost and then be able to take a nap in it as everyone gets horny around the campfire.”

When Marquis disappears inside of the med-bay, her voice lowers—unable to help as her thoughts manifest, “I think ‘Quis is going through something. He’s not known for his temper, that’s your thing.”

He feigned surprise, placing a hand on his chest. “Temper? Me?” The irony was his hurt knuckles, which had stopped bleeding earlier. He had wiped it away to the best of his ability, but he could still feel the dried blood caked between his fingers.

Liberty’s eyes track the dried blood on Alton’s knuckles, her suspicions barely restrained. Don’t ask. Won’t be truthful anyway.

Yet, maybe to Liberty’s surprise, he sighed. “He really takes ‘saving everyone’ so fucking personal. I guess the Lisa news hit him hard.” Alt just casually shrugged. “Fine. You get me a really nice white sheet to be a ghost in, and I’ll be good… compassionate even.” He placed one hand on his hip and lifted the other. “But I draw the line at hugs.” He pantomimed a personal bubble with his finger before crossing his arms again.

She snorts at the image—never going to happen—not when there were two missing Evergreen girls and the person that threatened their life stood beside her with a bloodied hand. “Sure. Sheet it is.” Her eyes focus on the Med-Bay up ahead, where Marquis had disappeared inside to and her lips thin pensively, considering Alton’s point. “Didn’t think he was that close with Lisa. Must be jarring, regardless.”

Crossing the rest of the distance, Liberty pushes open the door to the Med-Bay and immediately rounds her designated desk with a casual glance towards Marquis. He stands above an object that rolls back and forth by his feet. She shoots him a curious look. “What’s that?”

Alton followed Liberty, casually looking over her shoulder as she called attention to something. “Did you get that from Connie?”

Quis was so transfixed by the totem that he barely even heard Liberty and Alton walk in, Liberty catching him off guard when she spoke, causing him to start. “Oh, um. I don’t know,” he shrugged. To Alton’s question, he shook his head and pointed. “It just kind of…fell from that shelf there.”

Deciding not to tell them that it had made him see a weird vision, he picked it up and walked it over to where Liberty and Alton were, placing it on Liberty’s desk. “Kind of weird, though. Did you see Connie with one?” He asked, looking up at Alton. If Connie had one of these as well, maybe she knew what they were. Plus, it would also give him an excuse to go talk to her finally.

Liberty lowers herself into the chair, eyes trained on the object Marquis places on her desk—it seemed to serve no obvious purpose being in the Med-Bay. Quizzically, she touches the wooden surface and trails her thumb down each divot until she reaches the gaping hole in the shape of a butterfly.

“Could be from Arts and Crafts. Wouldn’t be the first time there was wood-carving.” She decides, taking in the yellow strips of paint that seem worn and chipped before pulling her attention and hand away from the object to focus on what still remained in her shoulder bag.

“Yeah. She had gotten a splinter from it.” Alt shrugged. “I just thought it was a useless piece of junk. She left with it. So, I guess there’s two. Weird.”

He gave the totem a passing glance on Liberty’s desk before moving over to the sink and washing his hands vigorously. The water became cloudy from soap and pink with blood before running clean. Alt could see chunks of skin turned up at the knuckles and blood pooling again at the recently aggravated openings. He sighed and dried his hands off before moving over to tend to the wound, grabbing many supplies similar to those he had last night for Connie. “So. Do we want to bet on what will send a kid in here first? My money is on an upset stomach.”

Quis wasn’t entirely sold on the Arts and Crafts logic. It seemed a little too old and - respectfully - a lot too intricate for something that was tossed together in a quick Arts and Crafts session. And, if Connie had one from yesterday, it also definitely wasn’t from Arts and Crafts.

However, he didn’t have a better answer and, so, chose to keep his doubts to himself. It didn’t stop his mind from wandering though. After all, it wasn’t everyday you come across something that looked like it belonged in a horror movie. At the thought, he remembered the odd vision he had seen when he had first picked it up. That was also something that would be in a horror movie. And missing girls? Definitely horror movie material.

The only difference was that, in horror movies, none of that was real. They were all actors that got to walk away when everything was done. And they got paid. This was different - it was a horror movie without the convenience of being a movie. His mind was ready to continue to spiral of how terrible their situation was until Alt spoke up, providing a useful distraction.

“Upset stomach? No way. Not with the waffles Juliette and I made. I say a couple of them get rough with each other and come in here because one hit a little too hard.”

Liberty uses her foot to drag the footstool from underneath her desk to exactly where she wanted it. She props her ankles on top and settles down into the chair, fishing out a new read from the depths of her bag—and carefully avoiding the glass bottle. It was bound to be a quiet morning until Sports, maybe they’d even make it to Survivalist training before a camper came in with an issue that needed addressing.

“Sports. Campers never heed Leon’s warning about running around on empty stomachs.” She shrugs, flipping her book to the introduction page. Her eyes barely take in the dedication, unfocusing slightly as her thoughts drift to the elephant tucked away in her bag. I need to speak to Lou. Pressing her lips together, Liberty glances up at Marquis, “Do you need a costume for tonight?”

While Liberty turned her attention to Marquis to ask him about his costume, apparently she was feeling charitable and grabbing everyone something, Alt took to bandaging his hand. He was more than happy just to listen. Honestly, he was surprised that neither of them had gotten nosy about this hand. But he didn’t want to invite undue attention.

To say that Marquis was not feeling up to Truth or Dare would be a gross understatement. He was starting to agree with Liberty’s sentiment on how wrong it was that everybody was just pretending like nothing was wrong. Like this was business as usual, camp as usual. When nothing could be further from the truth. However, if everyone had decided to keep up this charade - including Liberty - then he didn’t want to be the person that made things all the more difficult by not playing along.

He shrugged. “Yeahhh, I was just going to go as a cowboy like I usually do. Might swing by town later to grab one.”

Liberty perks up, half-closing the book in her lap. “I’ll grab it for you. Cowboy hat, boots… Do you want an obnoxiously large belt buckle, too?”

“I mean, are you really a cowboy if you don’t have one? You know what they say: always save the biggest buckles for the-”

The conversation was cut by the hurried opening of the Med Bay door, Quis’ attention snapping in that direction to see the two kids walking in. One was doubled over in pain and clearly putting a lot of effort into not throwing up while the other - playing the role of the supportive friend, ushered them in. Quis couldn’t help the small smile as he looked over at Alton, wordlessly conceding.

Alt gave Marquis a slight thumbs up, which felt awkward as he was thumbs-uping a sick child. Well, it could have been worse.

Hurrying over to the pair, Marquis took the one that seemed to be in pain and escorted them to a chair, giving a nod of thanks to the friend who brought them in. Looks alone suggested that it was an upset stomach, but if working at the Med Bay had taught him anything, it was to never assume. A gentle hand rubbed on the back of the camper as they clutched their stomach. “Now, Justin," he mused "You wanna tell me how we got here?”

Repressing an overdue sigh, Liberty stretches down to reach the bottom drawer of her desk and pulls out a green slip—the go-to for a straightforward visit—and jots down the camper’s name and age. She listens without looking up from the slip of paper, dutifully writing the necessary details: ate too much too fast, rough-housing around on the field, overheating. A tick pulls at her brow, resisting her typical eye-roll—really, how often must campers be reminded to be responsible?

“Name?” Liberty questions the other camper that lingers by the door, not recognising him.

“Lee Mitchell. Um—” He’s watching Justin with mild-concern, but slowly makes his way to her desk. “We report stuff here, right? Like, if anything is weird…”

Liberty’s head lifts, attention captured by the line of questioning. Her stomach swoops, a habit since her first time walking into the med-bay and spotting Levi contemplating with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Yes. Do you want to report something?” Her tone shifts into something less intimidating and strained, pushing aside her personal worries for just a moment.

“Justin and I heard a crash last night. It was loud—woke our whole cabin up. None of us were able to sleep after that.” Lee rubs the back of his neck and only now does she notice the darkness beneath his eyes.

Her eyes flit over to Marquis and Alton, curious if they had heard the supposed ‘crash’ but nods her understanding, bending again for a blue slip—incident reports. “I don’t suppose you remember the time?”

Three o’clock, Marquis thought. That is, if they were thinking about the same crash. And that is what he insisted on believing, because the alternative was too disquieting.

“No. We were too chicken to turn the light on and check the clock.”

“No problem. We’ll check in on that—if you have any physical activities today, then take it easy.”

Lee nods solemnly, heading back to the door and waiting for Justin to be finished up with Marquis.

Alt finished up with his own first aid and went to the medicine cabinet, where he grabbed the Pepto Bismol. He poured a little bit into the serving cup, underneath the mark for a kid Justin’s age. Honestly, the kid probably just needed something to coat his stomach. He also grabbed a rag and ran water over it, wringing it out so it was damp but not soaked.

He extended the cup to the camper and handed the damp rag to Marquis. “I know. It sucks. But you want to be back out there, right? A lot is happening today, and you don’t want to miss out. Also, throwing up–bleh.” Alt remarked, twisting his face at the mere thought of it. He couldn’t make the kid swallow it down, but maybe that would be enough of an incentive.

Alt coming over had been enough to pull Quis out of his distracted thoughts. He wondered if he could tell the two of them that the crash was probably from his cabin and that something had hit the window. Ultimately, he decided against it, at least not while the kids were here. He wouldn’t want them any more concerned than they actually were.

Quis laughs a little bit - Alton’s attempt at making the medicine more bearable working on the kid but also cheering Quis up even the slightest. For all the things people may want to say about Alton, Marquis enjoyed the side of him that came out when kids were around.

Marquis took the cup away from the kid when they were done, chuckling a little bit at the disgusted face they made when it was all swallowed. “Okay, now you gotta take it easy for a while, okay? No more being action movie stars, at least not today.” Justin nodded, face still squeezed from the bitter taste of the medicine lingering in his mouth. “And stay under the shade, try to cool off. Come back in here right before dinner if you still don’t feel too hot.”

He nodded again and Marquis smiled, ruffling his hair before sending him towards Lee. “Off you go, champ.”

He waited for the kids to leave, still considering whether he was comfortable telling Liberty and Alton what happened earlier. It would probably lead to a bunch of questions that he didn’t have answers to and he at least knew enough to know that he wanted to avoid that. Plus, it was probably nothing - a prank, just like the others had said. No need getting Liberty and Alton worked up over nothing.

“So, Libby. You heading out soon?”

Liberty watched the exchange with the camper and Alton and Marquis, almost surprised at how naturally the two worked together despite… well, everything. She supposed that was down to Marquis’ ability to see the better side of people, no matter their mistakes. Not her.

“Think I will. Need to check in with Lou before we go shopping, so I’ll leave you both to it…” As she spoke, she bent to retrieve her book-bag and hesitated behind her desk, deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Marquis? Act as Crisis-Aid while I’m gone.”

Normally, she delegated that job to Alton if she were to leave the Med-Bay for a period. Marquis’ bedside manner was naturally better with the campers and she felt it was doing Alton a favour by allowing them some time away from socialising. Manning the phones and writing down potential reports was more fixing things rather than slapping a bandaid on a camper’s scratch and calling it a day.

Unsure if she could trust Alton with anything, even writing down factual reports with the sisters missing—Lisa, on top of that—Liberty wasn’t taking chances with them messing up her job.

Quis looked up as Liberty assigned him to the position of Crisis-Aid. There was a swelling in his heart, a giddiness that - for the sake of professionalism - he tried to contain. She trusts me, he mused. It would be a small thing to most, perhaps even to Liberty herself, but for someone like Marquis, there was a humbling yet powerful sense of fulfilment from knowing you were chosen when there were other options.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she heads for the door without a parting word.

Alt ran the cup under some water before pitching it. He gave a slight wave to the kid before he crossed his arms as if he’d turned off “kid-friendly Alt” with a simple gesture. And Liberty was gone, right out of the door. Alt considered what she had said about him trying to remain compassionate during all of this. He had no obligation to keep it up now, but if he were going to work with Marquis all day, he wouldn’t want to poke the bear that early.

“Is it just me, or is this summer already trying to be more eventful than the last? Weird carvings. A crash,” he gestured vaguely to where the kid had been, “and now Lisa is missing. Not to mention, Jonathan has hired some real fucking weirdos this year. Have you met Billie? Right out the gate, and she’s already getting touchy-feely with people”

“Eventful…” Quis began, “...isn’t really the word I’d use. I mean, I guess it is eventful? But, well, I would like nicer events.” He sighed. It was too soon for him to be fumbling over words. “But yes, camp is really shaping up to be something.” Something in him didn’t enjoy leaving the topic on a negative note, so he added - almost like an afterthought - “But I’m sure we’ll be fine if we just stick together.” Optimistic as always, even if delusionally so.

Alton’s comment about the “weirdos” that had been hired but inspire a chuckle from Quis, but there was a forlornness to it. “Pretty sure every camp counselor is a weirdo in some way. I mean, look at us. You’re a-” Quis glances over at Alton, giving a once over, as if measuring something, before continuing. “- 7-foot gnome that burned every bridge and still came back. And I’m…” a sad smile twitched on his face as he recalled what Alton had said, words he had never really allowed himself to forget. “I’m… ‘so eager to please that you could spit in my mouth and I’d ask you to do it again’. Isn’t that right?”

There was no animosity in the words, not even a trace of it. Quis couldn’t hold anything against Alton, the other counselor was right, after all. Maybe not about the whole ‘asking him to do it again part’ but the sentiment was correct. However, knowing something to be correct doesn’t magically stop it from hurting - although it would be really great if things worked that way.

Quis offered Alton a smile, one lacking any substance behind it, and found his spot at Liberty’s desk. Sitting here still felt wrong, but he most certainly wasn’t going to complain about it.

“Wow. Your memory is something,” Alt remarked as he leaned against the counter. He tilted forward, resting his arms on the flat surface and interlocking his fingers. “And don’t think we aren’t coming back to the ‘7-foot gnome’ bit.” Honestly, he didn’t know what to think of that. “Look, everything I said was coming from a place of hurt. It wasn’t nice or fair, but I’m going to be honest–I never expected to have to live it up. Yet, here I am.” He shrugged. “But I wasn’t wrong, you know. Look at you now, asking for ‘events to be nicer.’ You can be pissed. You can be upset. Whatever. No one’s asking you to put on a happy face, especially not me.”

Quis could appreciate the sentiment. After all, if anger and hurt existed as feelings, it only made sense that one should be expected to express those feelings every once in a while. Quis knew that much. More importantly, he knew that Alton was right.

Alt leaned forward. “Liberty doesn’t want you to hurt yourself caring for others. What’s with you two, anyway?”

He figured it was only a matter of time before someone asked about him and Liberty. He had not, however, expected that person to be Alton. Neither had he expected Alton to actually sound like he cared. But Quis was not particularly at a place where he could answer the question. Even if he wanted to, even he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.

“I couldn’t tell you. I think everyone’s just a little off after last year.” He paused for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not he was going to reply to Alton’s other comments. “Also,” he began, knowing that if he was ever to move past last year, he’d have to face the truth. “You’re not wrong. But I’ve seen how I get when I’m angry or upset and he’s not pretty. It’s…easier, to pretend like he doesn’t exist. And…now that you mention it…why are you back? Did you forget your toothbrush or something?”

He hazarded the joke in hopes that it would bring enough of a laugh to ease the tension of what was objectively an awkward situation. Not as awkward as it had the potential to be, that’s for sure. But awkward all the same.

“That’s a valid fear,” Alt said. “But repressing it is also not great. It’s like putting your finger in shaken-up soda. The pressure will build up, and you will have no control over when or where it explodes. Maybe go yell at a tree or something?” He shrugged. “The forest is creepy as hell anyway. It needs some words thrown at it.”

He was usually good at masking his emotions, but Alt shifted uncomfortably momentarily. He glanced at the door, wishing someone would bust through so he wouldn’t have to answer this question. He didn’t know if he had it in himself to lie. “No. Not my toothbrush.” He sighed. “I left my favorite hoodie here. Finding the perfect hoodie is hard. Years of wallowing it out.”

Marquis hadn’t expected Alton to cash in on his joke, so the response caught him slightly off guard. And, although he didn’t buy the story of him coming back for a hoodie, it was funny enough to get him to chuckle a little bit.

The questions to be answered now was whether Marquis was stubborn enough to push the matter and try and dig out the truth, or smart enough to let the sleeping dog lie. Unfortunately, while there were many words that could be used to describe Marquis, “smart” wasn’t always one of them; especially regarding something he was curious about.

It was then that he heard someone grab the doorknob. Oh fucking thank you.

Choosing to try and dig out the truth was very clearly the wrong answer. Thankfully, Marquis never even got the chance to make it because there was, all of a sudden, a rattling of the doorknob. He shot Alton a look that said we’re not done with this before turning to face the door with a raised brow.

Liv pushed her way into the med-bay, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sight that greeted her was a familiar one, for the most part. She’d never worked in the med-bay before, but she’d been there for enough scrapes and headaches to know it well enough. The warm lighting, the crisis-aid desk by the door, the various items tacked up on the wall— a place she could recognize in her sleep, even if there were a few differences here and there.

Like everything else had seemed so far, really.

After the second or two she spent looking around, her eyes snapped to the two figures already inside the room. “Hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, a half-forced smile on her face. “Leon sent me this way to get set up.”

Quis looked between Liv and Alton, not troublesome enough to bring Alton’s business out into the open, but definitely playful enough to consider it. Thankfully, even in his playfulness, he knew to respect one’s own right to privacy.

“Not interrupting at all,” he replied, flashing Liv that winning smile of his. There had been a clear shift in his countenance in the few seconds Liv had joined them. Although he was respectful and cordial with Alton, even to the point of making self-deprecating jokes - the highest level of humor he was capable of - he somehow seemed even more pleasant with Liv. If nothing else, he was definitely smiling a lot more, although he made sure to keep it natural. If Alton had received a 7/10 on Quis’ pleasant scale, Liv being in the room hand cranked the dial all the way up to 11. “Come right in. Do you want any help setting up?”

“Marquis is being too modest. We were just about to make love on this counter.” Alt patted it, running his hand across the sealed wooden top. He glanced over to Marquis and quickly twisted his lips into a frown. The other man was wildly changed from his previous demeanor. It was as if Mister Rogers had crawled out from his grave and wore Marquis’s skin. He was unnaturally pleasant.

He then eyed the new person. Yet another interloper on Alt’s little slice of Heaven away from all the screaming children and, strangely enough, screaming twenty-somethings. “You get on that, bud. I’m super busy.” Alt fished out his book from his hoodie and thumbed through it until he got to his dog-eared page. Yet, he hadn’t even read a syllable before his curiosity got the best of him. “Why are you here?” He paused. “That sounded mean. I meant: why are you here?” His inflection was unchanged, as if that was the joke. A rude ass joke.

At the familiar face, Liv’s smile twisted towards something more genuine, a row of white teeth peeking through her lips. “Marquis,” she said. “It’s good to see you; I was worried I wouldn’t know anybody in the Med-Bay this year.” A half truth— she’d been sure she’d know someone. The worry was more about who’d be beside her for the next two weeks. Bad company could make the time drag past.

‘Bright’ was a word that had often times been used to describe Marquis; enough so that some would consist him synonymous with the word. In many cases - whether using the word to refer to smartness or positivity - one would be right. However, at seeing Liv light up even slightly, ‘Bright was no longer sufficient to describe his expression. Rather, out was something that danced in the nexus of pride, happiness and purpose. Fulfillment, perhaps. Whatever it was, though no words were woken by him, there was a clear boost in his mood in seeing Liv smile. One that seemed insultingly more genuine than the nod change when Liv first walked in.

“But by all means, if I’ve walked in on you two in the throes of a lovefest, don’t let me stop you,” she added, turning to the figure she didn’t recognize. “I can find something to entertain myself until you’ve finished.”

Liv glanced down at the book in his hands before looking back to his face. “I’m the onsite therapist Jon hired this year. Here to set up and settle in before dinner.”

Quis wasn't dim enough to believe, even for one second, that she'd done it on purpose, but hearing her job title caused his mind to spiral, going down a degenerative rabbit hole of all the reasons everyone in the camp - minus himself, of course - would need a therapist. One person…Liv is expected to shoulder all of that. It seemed grossly unfair. But he didn't have the strength of heart nor mind nor will, to offer her any support. Any strength he ever had had separated from him the same time he decided to separate himself from others.

Gone was the fulfillment from earlier, broken was the smile, but the words were as genuine as ever.

“If anyone can do it, Livia, it's you.” Then, almost as if sensing the heaviness he had introduced to the conversation and wanting to shoo it away as quickly as it came, he cleared his throat and gestured towards Alton. “This is Alton. He's the local camp grump. Well…one of them at least. But I'm starting to think that he's a pretty decent guy under all that grumpiness. Maybe you can dig it out of him, Doc. Do I call you Doc now? Seeing as you're a therapist and all. Doc Livia has a nice ring to it, no?”

“You don’t need a doctorate to be a therapist,” Alt found himself saying before he had a chance to catch it between his lips. Almost as if to say I’m the only person who’s qualified here. Though, he wasn’t. He just wished he was. Man. He wished he was. “So… Jon…” he said with an exaggerated slowness, “hired you for the kids?” It would be strange if Jonathan had decided to bring a therapist on for the counselors. Even though a lot of them probably needed it. Present company not excluded.

“Not that I’m asking for myself. I have a therapist, thank you. His name is Rick, and he loves to make boating analogies.” He paused. “And for the sake of our working relationship, Marquis, I’m not going to touch the grumpy comment. I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Alt then pointed to an old file cabinet in the Med Bay. “You can use that filing cabinet if you can get the top drawer open. Something is wedged in it, and I haven’t been able to open it. The bottom drawer is off-limits. I store all my porno magazines in there… because you know me… I just love… the female body curves with their…” he made awkward gestures that might have meant breasts or might have meant that he was juggling a handful of pudding. Who knew? He just didn’t want anyone to find his snacks.

Olivia forced herself to hold onto the smile she’d been wearing, even as Marquis seemed to ramp up further. “Thanks, Quis,” she said. “But he’s right: you don’t need a doctorate to be a therapist. Only a master’s. Doctorates are for Psychologists and Psychiatrists, and I want to work for at least a few more years before I decide whether or not I’m tackling medical school next.”

“Definitely getting that sunshine vibe, though,” she added, lip quirking up in the corner despite the sarcasm of her words as she crossed the room. “Jon hired me for everyone— whoever needs it. After last year, there’s bound to be some big feelings from counselors and staff alike.” Her included, if she was honest. Despite the tension between her and Renee, they’d grown up together— they would have grown out of it eventually.

The idea that their ‘eventually’ was gone still sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. Not something to dissect right now, though. With her back still to the other two, she swallowed down the lump in her throat and focused on the file cabinet instead. The first tug on the top drawer’s handle proved Alton correct; it was stuck shut. She frowned at the resistance, running her fingers along the edges to see if anything wedging it shut could be retrieved.

With no such luck, she pulled again. It took a few hard tugs before it came open. As it did so, a piece of paper came loose from the side of the cabinet where it must have been stuck in the tracks, and Liv reached out to grab it before it drifted to the ground. “Huh.”

Quis knew Alton to be full of snide remarks and sarcastic comments. He knew that a lot of what Alton said didn’t need to be taken seriously. He knew he could simply have moved past the comments and Alt might even have forgotten that he said them in the first place. However, the side of him that desperately craved people’s validation couldn’t risk souring a relationship - that he wasn’t even sure Alt wanted to begin with - for the sake of a few jokes.

Fidgeting with his hands, unsure how to begin because he had spent so long thinking about whether or not to apologize that the conversation had moved on. ”Oh, Alt, by the way,” he attempted. The words came out clear but clumsy. “I didn’t actually, y’know, mean anything by the grumpy comment. It was just, y’know, meant to be a quick, fun, little jab.” A new habit Quis had developed: using “y’know” as a filler whenever he was nervous or wasn’t sure how to say something. “So, y’know, if it actually…upset you, I’m uh…y’know…I’m sorry?”

Bury me now.

He had chosen not to comment on the whole counselors needing therapists possibility, because he couldn’t handle two uncomfortable conversations, one right on the heels of the other. His brain might have fried itself if he attempted. However, he still desperately needed to get out of the awkwardness of this conversation. “So! Dinner is soon, right? What do we reckon Jules…iette cooked up?”

Alt raised his brow so high it might have touched his hairline. He sat his book down for the fifth time in so many minutes and stared at Marquis. The rational thing to do would have been to assure him that he knew it was a joke. Yet, this other part of him–this little wicked thing that had been festering since last summer–wanted to see how far Marquis could apologize. Would he really do anything to please people? Alt wanted to know. His nails bit into the sides of his book as he grounded himself back to this reality. Doing that wouldn’t make him much better than Renee.

“Yeah, Marquis, I knew it was a joke. Maybe you can help Dr. Liv over there with the drawer before you strain your face looking at me like that.” He thought about throwing a: I don’t like it at the end, but he didn’t want any more apologies. “I’m sure whatever Juliette cooked is filled with her new blonde hair. Now, that’s someone you need to talk to Dr. Liv. She’s turned into a Renee mini-me. Ew.”

Having all but tuned the other two out, Liv flipped over the paper that had come free when she’d yanked the cabinet open. It was crinkled from where it had gotten trapped, and a large tear on the bottom corner of the paper, but not so much so that the text had become illegible. The bold-face type across the top still read INCIDENT REPORT. Below it, the box for bullying and harassment had been ticked off, with a complainant name that read Lisa Xander.

Seeing the girl’s name there threw her for a loop. An incident report for bullying filed by a counselor? That was nothing to scoff at— especially when you considered that Leon had just announced her missing at breakfast that morning. If nothing else, the timing of it left something to be desired.

Missing girls seemed to be a trend for the report, though, considering the details of the report named Renee as the one she’d made it against. It was dated for July of 2000, with the claim that Renee had made her feel so threatened she’d left camp for the day.

That seemed… intense. Liv knew well enough that Renee had plenty of sway, but from the short time Liv had worked with Lisa, she hadn’t known her to be someone to over-react in a drastic way. Leaving camp and refusing to come back? That’s something you do when you mean it.

The use of her name pulled her attention back to Alton, but only so much. “It’d be Dr. Twine,” she corrected, too caught up in her own distraction to feel any twinge of emotion that might have come with the reminder of her mother. She didn’t even bother to look back as she said it; instead, her eyes skimmed down the rest of the paper, all the way down to the bottom that lacked any sort of administrative signature.

After a moment, though, she turned around in earnest, holding up the paper she’d found. “Hey, do you guys know anything about this?” She asked. “It’s an incident report from 2000, but it was never signed off on. Lisa said Renee threatened her.”

The reassurance from Alton was like a cooling salve applied over raw skin. It was enough that Marquis’ breathing returned to normal, even though he wasn’t aware that there was something wrong with it to begin with.

He’d wanted to say something about Alton calling Olivia “Dr. Liv” even though that was the nickname Quis himself had made up for her and Alton had been oh so quick to “correct” him. However, he decided against it. Claiming something to be his own personal nickname for her was probably more possessive than most people would consider normal.

Before his thoughts could spiral any further into chaos and self sabotage, Livia’s voice pulled his attention to a piece of paper. Walking over, he leaned over to inspect it a little. He’d never had anything to do with incident reports, so coming for a closer look might as well be as useful as a 2 year-old taking a look at Shakespeare.

“Was Renee…” Cruel? Unsavoury? A kiss from a cactus? All viable and justifiable options to use in finishing that question. And he knew the answer to each and every one would be yes. But kind Quis could never be so brazzen. Not to the missing girl. “Would Renee really do that?”

Suddenly, the most interesting thing in this room wasn’t Marquis apologizing for basically being alive and breathing the same air they did, but it was that sheet of paper. Alton honed in on what Dr. Twine, Liv, whatever was saying. “Like that’s not surprising. Lisa and Renee liked each other about as much as– I honestly can’t think of anything that would compare to how much those two hated each other. But, Lisa was–is–tough. I can’t see her complaining about being bullied unless Renee tried to drown her or something.”

Alt had entirely abandoned his book by then and crossed his arms. “I don’t know anything, but you could always ask Lisa’s friends or–” he started to say your mom, but opted to be more middle of the ground, “one of the people that run this place?"

“Though, is flying off the handle a sign of schizophrenia?”

Liv gave the report a second once-over. She’d been more preoccupied with her personal life in the summer of ‘98, so she couldn’t speak to any sort of relationship Lisa and Renee had, but Renee had always been a bit… cutthroat. Threatening another staff member to the point that they left camp for the day was a bit heavy-handed for the Renee she remembered, but she knew all too well that the other girl could be cold and cruel when she wanted to.

“It must’ve been,” she said, folding the paper in half and creasing the edge. “A staff-against-staff report for bullying is a bit… dramatic, unless it’s serious. Lisa never struck me as the kind of person who went out of her way to be dramatic.” Not that I ever knew her well enough to know.

His last comment, however, caught her off-guard. It came from nowhere, and she stared at him for a moment before replying. “Schizophrenia?” She repeated.

The conversation was heading in a direction that Quis of all people knew to be dangerous: speculation. The simple reality was that none of them knew what happened and the best any of them could do was make guesses off of incomplete and likely inaccurate information.

“Can we stop, please?” There was a fragility in his voice that was reminiscent of a child protesting against a scary prank, yet the actual weight of his voice carried through the room. His discomfort with the situation was as visible as it was audible, even as he continued speaking.

“None of us know anything and this camp is filled with enough rumors already. We don’t need to be adding to them. I’m sure when we find Lisa and…” and Renee? Even his optimism wasn’t blind enough to suggest that Renee would somehow still be alive after all this time. He wanted to believe it, but didn’t quite believe it enough to say it out loud.

“I’m sure when we find Lisa, we can ask her about it and find out the truth. Until then, let’s just…” mind our business “...focus on getting the most out of this year.”

Alt had been trying because Liberty had asked him. He had no alliance with the curt blonde but he had empathy. During this interaction, he had bitten his tongue so many times that it felt awkward and raw in his mouth.

“So, don’t ask questions. Blindly follow everyone’s lead? Even if they walk us off the cliff? Listen to yourself Marquis. How the fuck are we supposed to hold hands and skip off into the sunset with all this bullshit happening.” He threw his hands up. “And I wasn’t guessing about the schizophrenia thing. I found a bottle of haloperidol here yesterday that belonged to Renee. Isn’t that fucking crazy? That–” Alt stopped himself before he said she was crazy. He really had no right to call someone that. Hell, the reason he was here was because he drank himself into such a stupor he wrapped his car around a tree–instead of talking to someone, anyone.

“--you are fine with this! Fuck, dude. Stop being a giant baby and come back to the reality that shady shit is happening.”

“No…that’s not…I didn’t mean…”

Quis kept trying to interject, to correct Alton, but his voice was so muted that even a mouse could speak over him. It was as though he was scared to speak…because he was. He was scared of the words that would come out of his mouth; what he might say; what he might reveal.

His fists tightened into balls as the struggle to keep himself controlled intensified. By the time Alton reached the news about Renee’s medication, Quis’ heartbeat in his own ears was so loud that the revelation was more or less drowned out.

“Stop it…”

A plea. One that came from so deep within Quis wasn’t even sure whether the thought had remained in his head or if he had actually managed to get the words out. However, something about Alton’s final words struck a chord in him and his voice took a timbre that had only been heard from him once before: dinner the previous night.

“I know!” The confession was met with a pronounced stomp of his foot against the hardwood floor and was punctuated by a few moments of silence, as if Quis himself was reeling from his own confession.

“I know nothing makes sense. I know someone out there is lying right in our faces. I know shady sh…stuff is happening. I’m ignorant, not dumb. But…” Another pregnant silence. “But have you thought, even for just one second, that maybe you don’t want to know the truth? That maybe it’s better to not know, than it is to know and wish you didn’t? Because that’s all I can think about. Whatever is happening is messed up and whoever or whatever is behind the scenes is even more messed up. But this camp has been the only thing in my life that has made sense for as long as I can remember and I refuse to accept that this camp is now as crazy as every other thing in my life. And if that makes me a big baby, then so be it!”

…Now I’ve done it. Ground, you can go ahead and swallow me up now.

Liv watched as Marquis seemed to implode from inside. She’d fallen silent when the tension between the other two had started to rise again— as clear as it had been that she’d walked in on something earlier, whatever was going down between them now went beyond that. It was a bit strange for her, in all honesty. They hadn’t been on the best terms anymore, but the news of Renee and Paige’s disappearance had been devastating to her. Her connection to them had been more personal, akin to family in a way.

She’d known that devastation would extend to the counselors and campers who were on camp that summer; it was half the reason she’d made the choice to come back. She hadn’t, however, expected this. After a few hours on camp, she was playing witness to a confrontation between two of the people she’d spend the next two weeks working alongside?

A more polite person might have turned away, or made some excuse to leave that offered them privacy. A more polite person might have even tried to defuse the situation. Liv was not that polite. Instead, she glanced at Alton to see what he’d say next.

Alt fought the urge to pull away from Marquis’s outburst. He was the one who sought confrontation, and he should have been prepared to watch the other guy explode. Marquis’s hands were tightly compressed into fists, and his stature seemed to overwhelm the room even if he didn’t mean to. Yet, Alt refused to shrink. He’d shrunk enough in his life and was no longer fitting into that tiny hole he’d lived in for so long.

“I’m sorry, Marquis, that this is your one safe space. It’s fucking strange that it is! But you can’t just ask everyone and everything to be normal so you can be happy! People are missing or dead! This is not the camp from last year! Fucking shit, I wish it was! I was a lot happier then. But we all have to be fucking adults and come to terms with the fact that things are no longer the same with the people we love.” He paused. “Well, you love, I guess. I could take or leave all of you.” Liar. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going roll over and wait to get taken into the woods, either.”

Alt threw up his hands. “If you want to pretend everything is hunky dory, you can. But don’t ask me to play the part of village idiot who can’t see what’s staring me in the face.”

For as much of a splash as Marquis had made during his rant, all that fire seemed to have fizzled out and he shrunk back into the shell of a man that everyone was used to seeing. He was too busy chiding himself for losing control to hear all of what Alton was saying. Something about having to be adults? Marquis had no recollection of agreeing to such a thing.

When all was said and done, Marquis couldn’t even bring himself to continue looking Alton in the eye. If anything, his presence was even smaller now than on a normal day. Everything in him begged him to apologise, but he didn’t even know what he’d be apologising for. Ultimately, he figured that the least he could do was try to salvage the situation by making a joke out of it.

Letting out a sigh, he let the tension release from his shoulders as he looked back p at Alton. “I’m not asking you to play the part of the village idiot. I’ve already signed up for the role and gotten the part. I’m just asking you to let me be the village idiot in peace. So what if I’m being stupid? It isn’t anybody else’s problem but mine.”

Wait…was that a joke? He had started the sentence out as a joke, but the words simply kept flowing until any humor that was once in the sentence was buried and gone. Realising that his attempt at a joke failed, he ran quickly back to ol’ reliable: apologies.

Looking between both Liv and Alton, he raised his hand to the back of his head and offered the most bashful smile ever seen. “I kinda lost it there. Sorry about that. It’s just been…a rough time.”

As he started to wind down, Liv raised an eyebrow. She studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing, before she schooled her expression back into something more neutral. Jesus, what the hell happened to Marquis last summer?

And this Alton guy— for a first meeting, this had been intense. One remark of his had stood out from the rest: I could take or leave you all. For a guy who had come back to work at a summer camp where two girls had gone missing last summer, he didn’t seem to have much attachment to the place. In fact, he seemed to feel more bitter than fond.

Still, with the outburst she’d just seen, she was more inclined to take his side of the matter than anything. It wasn’t an opinion she would share with either of them; considering she was going to have to spend two weeks in this small building with the two of them, walking a careful line between the two of them might be the way to go. But Alton had made a fair point: Renee and Paige had gone missing. Like it or not, something had happened. It was natural to question that, even if the eventual outcome was an accident, or a result of natural circumstances. Pretending things weren’t different ignored the reality.

Instead of hammering that into him, though, she folded up the incident report in her hands and tucked it away in her pocket. “Seems like it,” she replied. “You need to talk, Quis?”

Alt rolled his eyes. “You can’t be the village idiot because Thomas is here,” he remarked before stepping away. Marquis had deflated, and Alt didn’t care to push the point anymore. At this point, it would be like beating a dead horse–a really sad dead horse. “Keep your apologies and use them for something that actually needs to be apologized for.”

When their new number three came in and asked Marquis if he needed to talk, Alt took that as his sign to leave. Or at least to make himself busy so if Dr. Liv did need to therapize, she could do it in peace. Marquis needed to talk to someone. “Alright. I’m going to go check on the kids outside to see if any of them need some water. Because these cute little fuckers just love to get dehydrated.” And then he left. He didn’t wait for anyone to acknowledge what he said. He’d just grabbed some lukewarm water–as cold water was the worst to give to someone suffering from the heat–and left.

Quis was still kicking himself for how badly he had lost it. First, with Liberty and now, again, with Alton and Liv. Now everybody that he was going to be working with for the next two weeks knew just what kind of state he was in and it wasn’t something he could hide from them any longer. However, as long as none of them brought it up, the situation was still salvageable.

Maybe.

And then Liv asked if he wanted to talk. Of all the things she could have said - and there were many - that was quite possibly…no…that was definitely the worst one. Alton was quick to announce his departure, and Quis knew that he was in a bad spot when he was actually considering walking away with Alton rather than staying with Liv.

However, before Quis could even find the words, Alton was out the door and he was left alone with her. A pregnant silence filled the room after Alton left as Quis tried to come up with something to say. Eventually, figuring that saying anything was better than staying quiet for so long that she got the chance to ask the question again, he turned to her and offered her his most disarming smile.

It was the kind of smile one would give when they had just been given the best news in the world and they genuinely couldn’t be happier - totally unfit for the situation, but perhaps it would help sell the lie that he was about to tell. That was the hope, at least.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I just talked…a lot. Probably even said more than I should have.” You think? He waved his hand, as if fanning away the conversation in its entirety. “I’ve already said anything that I wanted to say or was going to say.”

He stole a quick glance at the clock. “Plus,” he said, nodding towards it, “It’s about time we headed over for dinner - wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”

The entire time he talked, he had looked at anything but her. With the way he was staring at them, one would think that the floorboards were the most fascinating thing to ever be made and that the cracks and wood grain on the walls held the secrets of the universe. The simple truth, however, was that he was attempting such a boldface lie that he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the face.

Now, to his credit - or lack thereof, depending on where you stand morally, Quis was usually a much better liar than this, with barely perceptible tells. But even the best liars would struggle when they have been so handedly exposed - by their own words, no less.

“Come on, we should get going.” he quickly got out as he started moving to pack his things and head out, except that he had nothing to pack. He had stormed here empty-handed directly from the hall this morning.

Liv watched as Quis’ lips stretched wider. Almost unnatural. He’d seemed frantic before, but now, his energy was almost manic. As his mouth continued to run like a faucet and his eyes darted around the room, it became clear that he found her question more unnerving than reassuring. Interesting.

She might not understand why he was taking Renee and Paige’s disappearances so personally, but it was plain to see that Marquis was not okay. That might be a project to undertake for the summer. While she got the vibe that he might not want or accept help, he definitely needed it.

Not one she wanted to start right away, however. Instead of following his lead and getting ready to leave, she waved him towards the door. “Why don’t you go on ahead,” she suggested. “I have one or two things to take care of before I head down to dinner; I think Jon and Leon would forgive me for being late to dinner on my first day.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. I’ll…I’ll just do that, then.” He cleared his throat and shuffled quickly towards the door, hoping to escape fast enough that Liv didn’t notice that he, in fact, hadn’t picked up anything. Praying desperately against any more awkward encounters, he hurriedly made his way towards the dining hall.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: awkward > somewhat friendly > girlfailing

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: med-bay > dining hall
basics
MENTIONS:
minajesty minajesty

INT:
AI10100 AI10100
tags
TL;DR clarisse and liv literally almost collide, have a mildly awkward conversation before getting real, and make their way down to dinner where liv freaks out about seeing her ex
tl;dr
liv & clarisse
mamas, a dead girl standing between you ♥
Liv pulled the door to the med-bay closed behind her. As it clicked shut, she let out a sigh and allowed her shoulders to slump forward.

Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she’d been brought in as an on-site therapist. That wasn’t the kind of hiring decision you made without a need for it. She’d known that there’d be plenty of big feelings about what happened last year, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted with them in the first few hours after she’d arrived. And, in honesty, she hadn’t expected Marquis to be the one melting down about it.

Quis consumed her thoughts as she stepped off the porch and started walking towards the dining hall. There’d always been something a bit plastic about him— like the way he talked to her wasn’t genuine, but she hadn’t much cared before. He’d been nice to her, and that was fine. It wasn’t like they were close. As much as she loved to put her psych degree to work picking apart other people, Marquis had never been someone she spent a lot of time thinking about.

That seemed slotted to change. The two of them would be spending a lot of time together this year, and he was definitely not okay. Some of that puzzled her; she didn’t remember him being all that close to Renee or Paige, but maybe that had changed while she was gone. If he was going to be going off like that in the med-bay, though, she was sure she’d get more information.

Caught up in her own head, she didn’t realize she was on a collision course with someone else until they were right in front of her. She stopped just short of running into them, straightening up like she’d been braced for impact. “Sorry, I didn’t see—”

The words died in her throat when she looked up to see who was standing in front of her. “Clarisse?”

What she had expected to be a trip to cool down ended up making her even more tense. As soon as she was able to part ways with the others, she retreated back to her cabin to deposit her costume and head to dinner. She hadn't even managed to catch up with Joey after a full year of not seeing each other but, whatever, that was fine.

Yeah, she was fine. Everything was fine. It'll be dinner then truth or dare then she could go to sleep. Maybe even talk to Liberty about what happened with the other group.

“Clarisse?”

Everything is not fine. Her body froze as she registered who she had bumped into— even after all these years, she could still recognize her. Clarisse stared at her like she was a deer in front of headlights, such an unexpected encounter that caught her too off-guard.

“Olivia,” she returned, voice cracking. Quickly, she created distance by stepping back but she knew she couldn't escape this interaction. No one was around to stand behind, no one could lead the talking. Suddenly, she regretted parting with Joey and Annie. Her gaze shifted to the side to avoid Olivia’s stare. “I didn't know you came back.”

A smile had started to bloom on her face, but when Clarisse had looked away to avoid her gaze, it faltered. Right. They hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time they’d seen each other. Losing Renee had meant losing Clarisse; she had always been in the Evergreen’s pocket. As fondly as she might still feel about Clarisse, those feelings weren’t returned.

The voice crack didn’t escape her notice, either. Neither did the state of her. Clarisse looked like a wet towel that had been rung out: twisted up and still damp with whatever she’d been soaked in. Still, that didn’t erase the genuine excitement she’d had to see the other girl, even if it had been brief. Liv forced the smile back onto her face. Even if it took effort, it was still real.

“I didn’t really tell anybody, to be honest,” she said. Not like she’d had anybody at Evergreen to tell, considering the disappearing act she’d pulled on them all. “I think only Shiloh, Jon, and my mother knew.”

“I’m glad to see you,” she added. The words came out delicate, as if Clarisse was a horse she might spook with too much energy.

Shiloh, right, Annie mentioned he was back. It made sense that Liv would return too, right? Forcing the tension out of her body didn't work, every time she tried to relax them, they just stiffened again. After these two weeks, she probably needed to book an appointment for a massage or something.

There was something soft in Olivia's voice, as if she was walking on eggshells. She should feel offended that she's being treated like glass, like a child, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel that seething anger. Not when she braved a glance at her old friend and found little dishonesty. “Yeah, uh, glad to see you back.” But why now? The question charged to the front of her mind.

It should be suspicious, right?

“I thought you were studying psych? Or, well, you know, you'd work somewhere in that field?” She decided to say instead, sounding more curious than anything.

Liv’s smile turned upbeat— discussing her studies brought that out of here. Her degree was a point of both pride and passion, colored by the relief she felt of having actually finishing her program. “Just finished my master’s, actually,” she replied. “My post-graduate job got pushed back, and I had the time. Plus, Shiloh was coming back; can’t let him go anywhere without me.”

Couldn’t let him face their mother without her, really, but that didn’t need to be said. Stuff always had a way of coming out around Evergreen, but she didn’t need to run around publicizing just how tense things were in their family.

She tucked her hands in her back pockets and continued. “Plus, this sort of is in my field. Jon hired me as a camp therapist for the summer.”

“Oh. Congratulations,” she said first because what else could she say about it? She still remembered how Liv seemed to brighten up whenever her passion was mentioned and how carelessly she had thrown aside their friendships when the opportunity came to apply it to reality. Renee’s words still rang in her ear backed by Paige’s agreements and suddenly the words Liv wrote on paper meant something else entirely. But at least it sounded like it was worth it for Liv. It must be nice to love something so much that you would stick to it for years.

And, oh, suddenly the email made sense— Jonathan had written them an email about how a therapist was going to be available at camp. She knew it was because some of them were still feeling the effects of the disappearances, some more than others, and the decision only seemed better considering the latest news about Lisa. Of course, someone with a master’s degree in addition to already knowing the ins and outs of camp would have been the best option.

There was no other option besides Olivia Twine.

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, moving to fold her hands behind her— mimicking Olivia like she always did as a kid. Though, now, it seemed more instinctual than intentional. She chuckled hollowly, aiming for a joke. “Guess I’ll be seeing you now more than in the past, what, five years yeah?”

“I’m surprised Mrs. Eva let you guys back in. Considering, you know, what happened and all.” Clarisse hadn’t been privy to the Twine family dynamic as she only ever had relations with Shiloh and Liv but only kept a professional distance with Eva. The woman certainly didn’t make it very easy to attach to like Jonathan had been.

The joke had given her hope, as distant as Clarisse seemed, but the mention of her mother brought Liv back down. After their confrontation this morning, she’d been doing her best to avoid thinking of the woman. Her thoughts were a tangled mix of emotions: anger, disappointment, grief. Not anything she wanted to be discussing.

Not easy to brush off without seeming odd, though. Liv shrugged. Her smile turned more rue, something she couldn’t help. “We didn’t give her much choice in the matter, to be honest,” she said— hopefully, sharing enough to come off as genuine without giving too much away.

Now that Clarisse had given her an opening, though, she took the chance to probe further. “I’m a little… surprised isn’t the right word, I guess, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be here. I thought—”

I thought it might be too hard. The words stuck in her brain, but they didn’t come out. For seven simple words of the English language, they seem too heavy. It feels like assigning something to the other girl, like she was saying Clarisse might be weak. Something she might say to a patient, but not an old friend whose feelings about her were still trending toward the negative.

“I thought you might feel differently about camp, after what happened,” she finished. I’m still not sure if I do, everything considered.

It was an apt enough explanation— they were all adults. If Jonathan had been the one to approve their job permits, then Mrs. Eva could barely do anything about it aside from talking to them. She imagined that was a conversation that was best kept between family members.

Liv’s question shouldn’t have been a surprise since she had been the one to broach the subject. Maybe it was wrong to talk about this with someone with a psychology degree. It felt like she was being prodded in the middle of a random trail to the hall. Her memories crawled back to her conversation with Rowan, the conviction of her words at the very end of it crumbling now on the second day of camp.

“I’d want nothing to do with this place again?” She asked, continuing Liv’s sentence. “Y’know me, Olivia, I just can’t stay away from an Evergreen for too long.” Once more, she attempted at a joke. As usual, ever since the past year, she couldn’t muster any kind of strength to actually make it sound as such.

She shrugged as she moved her gaze to the tree line. A year ago, she went out there for hours day after day in hopes of finding even a single clue of her friends’ fates; and it was a year ago when Jonathan had booked a ticket for the both of them to pull her away from the search— to practically force her back to her normal life as if it hadn’t been completely flipped by the event. “Guess I haven’t given up yet.” She returned her gaze to Olivia. “And I think it’s the right idea.” Lisa’s disappearance may not be connected at all, but it was something.

“You’re right,” Liv agreed. Her eyes glanced in the direction that Clarisse’s had gone before returning the eye contact the younger woman gave her. “I should have known that’s what you’d say.”

It’s not like she could have anything fair to say about it, either. After all, what was she doing here? She couldn’t stay away either. Her mother had told her the sisters went missing, and she’d gone and typed up her resume like it was their obituary. And even before that, she’d been on poor terms with Renee for years before she stopped coming to camp. The other girl had been one of her best friends, as well as the epicenter of her entire teenage social group at camp, and that still hadn’t been enough to ward her off.

The fracturing within her own family had, though. Go figure.

Her focus shifted so back to Clarisse as she stuffed the thought of her mother back down once more. The person standing in front of her seemed far different than the one she remembered. Fair enough, considering Clarisse was seventeen the last time they saw each other; four years changes you. Liv certainly wasn't the same version of herself.

This version of Clarisse was older, of course, but it isn’t just that. There’s something about her that seems emptied out, quiet and resigned— the way she used to look on the rare occasion she’d get into it with Renee. As a kid, she’d worn it like a kicked puppy. Now, it seemed etched into her face, like she’s been wearing the same expression since Renee disappeared.

Maybe she had been. Not like Liv had been around to know. The guilt started to creep back in, sitting heavier in the pit of her stomach.

Liv let a long beat of silence pass as she considered what to say next. Asking how Clarisse had been seemed like a rather pointless endeavor. “I’m heading down to dinner,” she said, instead. “Want to come with?”

There was a ghost of a smile that formed on her face, more defeated yet just a little bit endeared. Clarisse knew she wasn’t a very complicated person, but Olivia was one of the people who could pick her apart much easier than others. Sure, it wasn’t the entire reason she had returned but Olivia seemed to accept it. Idly, the younger counselor wondered if Olivia would be proud or horrified to learn that she had returned for proper closure and to find any sense of purpose.

“Sure, was heading there anyway,” she muttered and gestured for Olivia to start moving and she followed behind, slightly lagging half a step. It had always been a personal preference when she wasn’t required to walk side-by-side with someone; at least this way, she’d be able to watch her companion. Just in case.

While Clarisse would have been more than glad to spend the rest of the time in silence, leaving it open like that might be an invitation for disaster. She thought of any topic that might occupy their time that wouldn’t be too dangerous. “I, er, I heard Harper was back too. Did you talk to her?” Not exactly the safest topic for her but it was the first time she had thought of.

Liv took note of the way Clarisse fell in behind her, but she chose not to comment on it in favor of keeping the peace. At the mention of Harper’s name, more of that guilt crawls up towards her chest— yet another person she left behind three years ago. God, she hoped Shiloh was fairing better than she was in terms of grappling with their disappearances, but she doubted it. If that man could find a way to punish himself, he would.

“I did,” she answered. “I was looking for Leon this morning to find out what cabin I’m in, and they were washing dishes together.”

Strange that Clarisse was asking her about Harper, though. After all, this morning was the first time Liv had seen her since 1998. “You haven’t talked to her?”

Ah, so they were together with Annie during that time. It must have been a crowded room then if that was the case. Clarisse shook her head— if she had a choice, she wouldn’t even ever talk to Harper again. Avoiding her for the past year had been easy enough considering how they were states away from each other, but how unfortunate that Jonathan felt flimsy enough to allow another Evergreen back at camp despite what had happened.

“No, I think she came in late like you guys,” she claimed. “But I haven’t talked to her in about two years since she went off to college and all that.” She scratched the back of her neck. “I wouldn’t know what to say after…” She gestured to the treeline once again.

“Right.” Odd that the two of them hadn’t talked, considering how enmeshed with the Evergreen family Clarisse was, but it’s not like Liv could judge; she hadn’t known what to say to Harper about her cousins, either. She’d chosen to mention them in little more than passing to save from weighing down the tone of the room.

This conversation, however, was heavy with tension as it was. Liv took a chance, branching out into a topic with more substance. “It’s weird being back,” she said. “I keep expecting Renee to show up around every corner to tell me another soccer ball popped.”

Despite it all, Clarisse chuckled. “Same. Sometimes I find myself heading to the lodge during break expecting her to be there.” Because that had always been the routine; whenever she was free and didn’t have much to do, Renee was the first person she would go to. She caught herself doing it one too many times.

She knew she shouldn’t be too vulnerable around Olivia; after all, she still left. She wasn’t there when they needed her but who else in this camp felt the same amount of grief on Renee’s disappearance? Who else besides the people she grew up with? “I don’t even care if she wants to yell at me or whatever. I just want to enter the supervisor room and see her lounging there again.”

“If she was yelling at anybody here this summer, I think you’re sitting in a safer spot than I am,” Liv pointed out. Sure, Clarisse and Renee’d had their spats at times, but at least they still considered each other friends. “But you’re right— I’d be so relieved to see her that it wouldn’t matter. I'd kill for her to walk out of those trees right now and call me a flaky bitch."

Clarisse offered her a tight-lipped smile; whatever argument had transpired during that day had been buried beneath the trees. “Want to try and tempt fate and stand at the treeline and see if Renee wants to tell you off so badly that she’ll find her way back?” She asked as she gestured towards the edge of the camp, an area not too far from their final location.

“Maybe after dinner. It might take her some time to finish yelling at me, so I’d like to do it on a full stomach.”

That brought out a more genuine laugh out of Clarisse. She could imagine it vividly, remembering all the times that Clarisse brought up Liv’s name and got a fumed response from her best friend. Renee wouldn’t shy away from saying all those to her face that was for sure. “Yeah, I can see that.”

She let the peaceful silence stretch out only for a moment. She looked around and found only a few kids in their own groups, talking among themselves. None of the other counselors were close enough to see, to hear. So she took the leap and reached forward to tug at Olivia’s shirt, signifying a more quiet topic. “Olivia, if… if I can ask, why did you come back?”

It’s a feeling that was familiar, in a distant way. When she glanced back, she half-expected to see a ten-year old Clarisse hanging onto the edge of her shirt. She didn’t, of course, but she swore she could still see that kid in the face of the grown woman standing behind her.

“Honestly? I felt like I had to,” she said, dropping the volume of her voice to match Clarisse. The hand still tucked into her back pocket curled in on itself until she could feel the edges of her fingernails against her palm— not hard enough to hurt, but enough of a sting to keep herself grounded.

She’d been honest earlier, when Leon had asked why she left, but brief. Now, without reservations about preserving the mood, she felt inclined to give a more open answer.

Besides, if anybody was owed the truth, it was Clarisse. Harper was Liv’s own age; an equal. But Clarisse was always the youngest of them all. The four years between often felt less like a friendship, and more like what she imagined having a younger sister did. And when she’d mimicked Shiloh’s own disappearing act before the summer of ‘99, Clarisse hadn’t even been a consideration in the decision.

Sure, it’s not like they were on any sort of speaking terms when she left, but the guilt persisted. At the very least, for not being there when Renee and Paige went missing. She should have been around to help Clarisse pick up the pieces when it all fell apart.

A quieter part of her wondered— was there anybody there to do it for her at all?

“I decided to come back when Shiloh told me he was going to, but in all honesty, I was already thinking about doing it,” Liv explained, in a soft voice. “When my mom told me that Renee and Paige went missing, it was like— like it wasn’t even real. I didn’t believe her at first. Not because I thought she’d lie about it, but because… I mean, it was Renee and Paige. We grew up here, doing all kinds of things that were probably stupid, and it was always fine. How the hell would they suddenly go missing?

“It didn’t start to feel real until the summer ended and they were still gone. I passed a girl that looked like Paige while I was walking to class, and I felt like someone punched me. All I felt was awful. I spent my whole childhood with them, and I hadn’t even spoken to them in years. The last time I saw them was Thanksgiving in ‘98, and I talked to Mike three times as much than I did to anybody else that night.”

“I miss them,” she admitted. “I miss the version of Renee that hated my guts, and I really miss the version that didn’t. And I knew I was going to think about Evergreen the whole time it was running, whether I was here or not. I thought it might feel better to do something with that. If I came back and did something to help instead of just feeling awful, maybe it might make missing them hurt less. Like I was doing something good with the pain.”

The space behind her eyes felt warm, and she willed any tears back with the blink of her eye. Instead, she forced a watery smile onto her face instead. “And I missed you guys: you, Harper, Leon and everyone else that’s still here. I wanted to see you— god forbid the next time I saw your face was in another headline.”

It took Clarisse a bit by surprise; she hadn’t expected Liv to say too much. Honestly expected her to just avoid the question altogether but there she was, spilling her heart out and Clarisse listened. She moved just enough so that Liv wasn’t directly in sight of most of the campers should they happen to look their way.

She wondered what happened between the times Olivia left them for another camp, to have her miss them like this. Even when she had returned for a couple more years, Clarisse hadn’t seen her talk with either of the Evergreens without it ending on a sour note. Maybe it was just nostalgia; a sense of ‘you never know you’ll miss it until it’s gone’ kind of thing. But no matter how Clarisse flipped Liv’s words inside her brain, it came off as nothing but genuine.

But Clarisse didn’t know what to do with any of those feelings, so she resorted to the only failsafe she had managed to gain throughout this entire experience. “Aw, you missed us,” she said, ignoring the way it made her feel warm to know that Olivia did care. “I get it. I… well, you asked why I came back. That wasn’t the entire reason.”

She sighed and kicked at the dirt beneath them. “I didn’t want to feel helpless again. I wanted to be here just in case something happened ‘cause I couldn’t do anything before.” Clarisse blew out air. “Fantastic idea on paper, completely rubbish in action considering recent happenings.” She didn’t feel as guilty about it as what happened with the sisters but starting her goal already failing did wonders to her psyche.

Right. Lisa. The incident report still sat in one of her back pockets. For a moment, Liv considered asking Clarisse about it, but thought better of it. That could be saved for later— and maybe asking someone who was closer to Lisa than they had been to Renee.

What was of more interest to her was the words Clarisse had said. For a twenty-one year old girl, it seemed like she was bearing far too much weight on her shoulders than she should. Survivor’s guilt. PTSD, maybe, but that wasn’t a label she was comfortable doling out based on a single conversation. Not this one, at least, and probing any deeper at this point would probably be pushing her luck.

“Well, I get the idea that recent happenings have been out of your control,” Liv pointed out. “You can’t hold it against yourself if you weren’t even here yet.”

“Mm, yeah. It feels a little horrible to continue on with Truth or Dare when she’s out there though.” Now that was within their control— but Leon’s words were law. Another glaring choice Clarisse had made was her costume, one that she had grabbed off the shelf without thinking much of it. She just had to rely on Annie’s words that it was fine for the most part. They were already doing the party and that was disrespectful enough.

She shook her head. “I just hope nothing else happens and that we do find Lisa safe and sound.” Considering it had been days since her disappearance, however, the chances of her being alive dwindled significantly. Still, she held onto some faint hope that she was still out there.

At Clarisse's words, some of the tension in Liv’s body dissipated. Not all of it, but enough to slump her shoulders forward. “Oh, I’m so glad you said that,” she sighed. “I mean, I told Harper I would, so I have to go to Truth or Dare, but— it seems a little bit poorly timed to have it today, after this morning’s announcements.”

A bunch of drunk people in the woods, grappling with varying levels of distress about the now three girls that had gone missing? That seemed like a recipe for disaster in the making. Hopefully, being out of the loop would put her out of the crossfire for most of the other counselors, but she was sitting on a few things she would prefer to keep private. With Lisa’s recent disappearance hanging over them, though, she might escape more notice than she had originally thought.

And speaking of Lisa— “Yeah, me too,” she agreed. “I might not have really known her, but she always struck me as someone pretty capable. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was all a misunderstanding of some sort.”

She shrugged. “I think everyone feels put off by it. Maybe Leon just wants us to relax but I think there are better ways than to go about it like this.” But she wasn’t going to really put him on blast; regardless of her standing with him after the debacle with Joey, she still had some respect for the man. He was placed between a rock and a hard place with big shoes to fill and even bigger responsibilities to bear.

That was an optimistic way of looking at things. She was their resident farmer and the best memory she had of Lisa was when she stayed very far away from Renee, but, yeah, it felt like she had more survival instincts than both of the sisters. “Yeah. It’s just weird that camp hadn’t started yet when she disappeared. Like, how could someone go missing in Easthallow without anyone noticing?” Because where else would Lisa be? Unless she decided to go hiking into the woods without telling anyone, surely she would just be meandering around in the town. Well, it wasn’t like they had Sheriff Jones around to ask questions to about her disappearance.

“It’s strange, that’s for sure,” Liv replied. “But I don’t know what there is for us to do about it— if they thought any of us knew anything, I’m sure the police would be here already.”

Well, Shiloh was here already, but that was a bit of a moot point. He’d gotten here this morning, same as here. Unless he’d already run off to the Easthallow Police Station, she doubted that he knew much more than he did when they’d arrived.

She shook her head. “Regardless, I think the best thing we can do is just our jobs, right now.”

That much was true. Perhaps someone else who lived in Easthallow might have heard of something but that was for them to figure out. For a moment, her mind wandered off to Mona— those two had always been close and she lived in Easthallow. How was she taking this situation?

She rolled her shoulders into a shrug. “Yeah. Keep an eye out for the kids too.” Funny how they were breaking the one new rule that Jonathan implemented for their safety the day after he said them. “Might have your work cut out for you, for this little camp for troubled kids and counselors.”

“You’re telling me. If there’s one thing you can count on, some kid is gonna sneak out of his bunk at night.”

As she spoke, she glanced over Clarisse’s shoulder. The dining hall was just visible in the distance. A steady stream of people, both campers and counselors, flooded into door. Even from here, she could here the growing chatter.

“We should probably keep moving,” she said. “It’s one thing to be late, it’s another to be the last ones there.”

Yeah, Clarisse could see that. As someone who regularly broke the rules, she was rather familiar with all the kinds of things campers could do to escape. She doubted the fact that someone disappeared would dissuade them; in fact, it might incentivize them to start looking through the forest for something. After all, bravery and stupidity came hand in hand.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Clarisse still fell back while moving with her but considerably more relaxed. She didn’t remember who would be with her on the dinner table; hopefully, it wouldn’t evoke as much emotions as it did for the past hours of her life.

With the topic of Lisa dropped, the two of them resumed their walk to dinner. It wasn’t far now— within a minute, they were standing outside the mess hall.

She was a second from stepping up towards the door when she stopped. There was a guy, just visible through one of the windows along the front wall: dark hair at his chin, sharp nose, half a smile.

Nic.

The breath left her lungs in a small, punched-out sigh. Hugo’d said he was here this morning, or at least implied it, but it had been easier to push that aside rather than confront it. It seemed like a mistake now. She’d chosen not to think about him, and he was here all the same.

“Oh,” she said, soft and quiet. It came out more like a sigh than a word; she didn’t even realize she spoke at all.

Clarisse nearly bumped straight into Liv, quickly raising her hands to brace against the older woman's shoulders to stop. She followed her gaze towards a guy, the same guy that was with Liberty back when they went costume shopping.

She looked back at Liv and tilted her head. “Something up?” Clarisse asked with some curiosity. There was something familiar in that kind of look, but she couldn't be too sure.

Liv nodded, but she couldn’t pull her eyes back from the window. As Nic tipped his head back laughing, some of that Clarisse-Harper-Renee-Eva-Paige twisted guilt reared in her stomach, pulling him down from her brain and tucking him alongside the rest. Suddenly, she could taste bile in the back of her throat.

It didn’t feel real. Over the years, he’d become more figure than man— emblematic of what she was willing to push aside for her own ambition. Not choices she regretted, perse, but ones she’d sometimes wished she could. Maybe it would’ve been nice if she could have been content with the things she’d had four years ago.

Now, he was a living person in front of her again. He seemed much bigger than the small box she’d tucked him into in order to compartmentalize him into the back of her brain. Huge, actually; moreso than he had any right to be, considering they’d broken up nearly half a decade ago.

But now she was standing in front of the dining hall, frozen in place and watching him like an idiot. Liv tore her gaze away before he had the chance to look out the window and catch her staring.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, finally glancing back at Clarisse over her shoulder. “Sorry. It’s just— my ex is in there? And I knew that would happen, but it’s much different seeing it in front of my face.”

At the explanation, she looked back towards the guy. Olivia's ex? That probably happened after the whole psychology camp. Who is he anyway? Why did she want to know? Clarisse shifted. Liberty liked him enough from the brief glimpse she managed to get of him, so maybe he wasn't that bad.

“Oh, oof.” Clarisse slid over to the side where Nicolas was as if acting like another physical barrier even if Liv was still taller and visible. “The chances of both of you applying this year is pretty low. Never seen him before so first year as a counselor?” No matter how much digging she did in her mind, she really couldn't place a name to his face.

“Will you be alright?” She asked, concern plain in her tone. It didn't seem like the break up ended particularly well from Liv's reaction.

Under Clarisse’s watchful eye, Liv forced a smile onto her face. It shook for half a second before she managed to steady it. “I’ll be fine,” she assured; even if it felt like a lie coming out, she knew it’d be true. She’d lived the last four years of her life without Nic, it’s not like she would become a crumbling mess if they locked eyes.

Maybe they should talk, though. Unless he was going to run off camp the moment he saw her— which would be unlike him— then they had two weeks of camp together before being released back to their lives. It might be good to clear the air. The way things ended had left a lot to be desired; so much unsaid, so much carried away with them.

Nic had to be pushed aside for a moment, at least to get Clarisse into the dining hall. It was going to take her another second to get in there, but she wasn’t sure that present company would be as calming as being alone. The guilt hadn’t settled back down yet.

“You should go on inside, though,” she insisted, tilting her head towards the door. “Don’t let me keep you out here.”

She took another deep breath and added: “It was good to talk to you, though. Really. I did miss you.”

Clarisse hummed, uncertain herself if she believed Liv's words or not. But, really, what right did she have in prying? Could they still be considered close friends like they were before? Even after everything? Did she even want to? No, did Liv even want to?

Thinking about it at the moment was becoming too bothersome so Clarisse let it go. If Liv really wanted to say something, she probably would. “Yeah, okay.” She took a backwards step inside, taking a moment just in case she wanted to say something else.

She looked at Liv, debating something in her mind, before sighing and stepping forward to give her a quick, one-armed hug. “Missed you too.” With that, Clarisse turned and headed for her table— notably the same one with the man Liv had been staring at that entire time.
code by valen t.
 
stranger in need

!EVENT
C
randall Street, a mere stone's throw away from Hallow's Trail, is a lonely stretch of road acting as the first glimpse of civilisation from the woods bracketing Easthallow. It sits in clear view of Larry's Library, Makers Coffee House, and the Fancy That! costume store, whereas the other side of the sidewalk is immediately cut off from the locals unless they wish to try their luck scaling the cliff's edge and traversing the forest at a sloped angle.

Dakota Holt huffs, peering into the window of a brand new 2001 Land Rover Freelander. Bracing two hands on his jean-clad hips, Dakota considers a course of action—pop the window, or head into Fancy That! for a spare coat hanger, hoping to shimmy the metal into unhooking the lock. One was far more time-consuming than the other, and another would draw unwanted attention.

"Where is he?" Dakota mutters, deciding to knock an elbow into the window and test the durability of the newest make. It doesn't budge, doesn't even make a sound of protest, and turns on his heel to march towards Fancy That! only to notice the group emerging from the store.

Why am I doing this? Was all Juliette could think as she made her way back to Fancy That!, fingers tightening around the plastic bag filled with snacks for tonight—for her cabin. Which Connie’s part of, her mind reminded her bitterly, arms instinctively crossing low against her chest, as if the motion alone could justify how she felt. Forget about her. Forget about the people who don’t like you, she tried to convince herself, inhaling deeply before shutting her eyes for a moment, exhaling quietly. Then, blinking them back open, she reset her focus.

Do this for yourself, for your friends. Forcing a small smile, Juliette quickened her steps, hoping the group hadn’t left without her. The chime of the shop’s door caught her attention just in time, and relief washed over her as she saw the others walking out. Thank god I didn’t miss them.

Closing the distance, her gaze flickered across the street. That’s when she saw him—the same man from earlier, the one she had noticed before hastily leaving the store. He’s still here? Must really be out of luck.

Joey kept an ivory silk ribbon in the depths of her bag, for all the times she didn’t care to hold her shopping bags and instead aimed to tie them on the leather straps of whatever handbag she was sporting that outing. She fastened the ribbon tight so the bag wouldn’t budge, still very pleased about the cutesy purchase. Looking up, she caught sight of Juliette.

“Hey, I was wondering where you snuck off to…” The brunette tilted her head, checking out the plastic bag in her friends’ hands. “Aw boo, I wanted to come and at least get some shooters before we—oh. Who’s that?” Her question, almost lowed to a whisper when she noticed the stranger who’d caught the blonde’s attention.

Her focus peaked just over Juliette, crossing through the street, where a man she’d never seen before—dark features to match a slight scowl in his expression—seemed to be walking right towards the group.

Dragging her gaze away from the stranger, Juliette hummed a quiet hm? before turning to meet Joey’s curious eyes, a faint smile forming on her lips. “Sorry,” she murmured quickly, closing the distance to give her friend a peek at the snacks she’d grabbed for tonight. “Store was about to close—you know how small towns can be.”

She caught where Joey’s gaze had drifted and bit the inside of her cheek before lowering her voice, shifting closer. “Saw him when I left. Must be down on his luck.” Her blue eyes flickered back to the man, not so subtly sizing him up. Kind of cute, actually.

Joey snuck another glance at the stranger, tongue at the tips of her teeth as she listened to Juliette, “Oh yeah?” Tall, dark, cute. I like. “Poor guy, Easthallow’s not the town you wanna get stranded in.”

Her gaze flickered for a moment acknowledging Bonnie as she slipped in behind them. Joey raised an eyebrow at her, subtly nodding in the man's direction, as though she was sharing an inside joke—the stranger being some secret they were letting her in on.

Dragging her suitcase behind her, costume bag securely hanging from the handle so that she wouldn’t have to carry it by hand, Bonnie moved to catch up with Joey and Juliette. When she met the brunette’s gaze she turned her own to stare at the tall man huh. “He must have gotten locked out of his car.” She commented, rolling her bag to a stop. Bonnie had done that before, it was easier to lock yourself out of your vehicle than one might think it was…

“Should we…” Juliette trailed off, shrugging as her gaze shifted between Joey and Bonnie. A slight grin tugged at her lips. “Offer to help?”

“I think we should.. right Bon?” Joey met Bonnie’s eyes expectantly, biting the inside of her lip. “I think he needs some help.” She shrugged, matching Juliette’s grin, “Maybe we can turn his luck around!”

Tossing another look at the stranger Bonnie gave a swift nod of her head, lips lifting into a smile. “I don’t see why not.” He didn’t look dangerous, maybe a little annoyed but who wouldn’t be if they had gotten locked out of their car and no one bothered to ask if he needed help? “Who knows, maybe the good luck will come back around to us.” That was what her dad would always tell her growing up at least.

Annalise abandoned Clarisse’s side in favor of acting as a barrier between her fellow shoppers and the stranger. “Who cares about his luck?” she asked, voice low, as if somehow, he might overhear. “What about us? For all we know, he could be, like, an axe murderer, or something.” The blonde risked a brief glance over her shoulder, studying the man with a frown. “Besides, how do we know that truck’s even his? He looks…homeless. Do you really want to help him commit a crime?” Rarely was Annie the voice of reason, but when it came to self-preservation, she liked herself entirely too much to risk being kidnapped.

“Ok well no.” Joey quipped back with a shake of her head, “I doubt he’s going to whip an axe out on us in broad daylight.”

A few feet behind the others, Kayden made his way over to catch the tail end of Joey and Bonnie’s conversation. His eyes flickered towards the man standing by the car— navy blue, sparkling clean, new model. It was nice.

At Annie’s words, he found himself nodding just a bit. He was never one for stealing cars, but shit, if he was? This would be pretty pickings. “She’s right,” he said. After a pause, he added: “Not that I think he’s gonna kill us, or that he’s homeless, but that might not be his car.”

Clarisse followed behind Annalise, her eyes moving to the truck first then to the man before it settled on the others who were contemplating what they should do with him. He didn’t appear familiar but Clarisse couldn’t claim to know everyone in Easthallow. She shifted her weight as she contemplated what to say. As much as she agreed with Annalise and Kayden’s statements, she knew Joey was stubborn in her own way.

Why they didn’t just move on and ignore the guy was anyone’s guess. “If you’re curious, you can just ask,” Clarisse piped up, defensively crossing her arms. “For proof I mean. But personally I think it’s better if we just leave the guy alone.” Someone else could help him, someone who was more equipped for it and someone who wasn’t under a time constraint like they were.

Joey’s eyes wavered to the pretty car sitting across the street, contemplating Kayden’s words before facing Clarisse. She shuffled closer to her, a tendency Joey often carried out for any reason possible, “Let’s ask! Doesn’t hurt right? If he’s sketch we’ll wish him well and leave.”

It might hurt, Annalise thought, furrow between her eyebrows deepening, but she relented nonetheless. Evidently, it didn’t matter what she said—her opinion wasn’t a particularly popular one. If they wanted to bat at the danger dangling before them, that was their mistake, but at least she’d made an effort to steer them in a different direction. Still, the blonde’s attention shifted momentarily to Clarisse and Kayden after their initial agreements in the hopes that they would dispute it further. Don’t let them do something stupid.

…wish him well and leave. Securing the plastic bag in her hand with a knot as the bell chime signaled Connie’s departure from the shop, the brunette’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise to see the group stalled at the front. Her purposeful stride slowed to a halt.

The tail end of Joey’s comment begged the question who? as the boating instructor’s eyes moved from the group to a strange man with dark and unkempt hair advancing toward them from a sleek vehicle—the scowl he wore anything less than friendly. He already sees us watching; Connie’s jaw ticked in contemplation of how to move forward before she answered.

“The others aren’t even back from Willamina yet…” weighing their options in a tone meant just for the group, she tore her gaze away from the man in favor of her friends—and others. “We could spare a couple minutes until then, at least. If it’s his car and he can’t get inside after everything else, he shouldn’t care about calling for a tow.”

It hadn’t been their obligation to help, but on a moral level, Connie couldn’t help but at least direct him to someone who could. She lived in Easthallow long enough to understand that each minute that passed them by, businesses began to close, and the man’s options would be slim to none before sundown.

Dakota’s purposeful stride slowed as the counsellors of Evergreen trickled out of the store. His jaw clicks as he swallows, steeling himself to approach the young adults—I’ll kill him for this—the threat, while regrettably insincere, holds enough weight to propel him forward and deal with the prospect of a mess, one they’d be cleaning up again.

Rolling his shoulder only to lift them both sheepishly in a gesture meant to come across as stark embarrassment, Dakota closed the distance with a thumb pointing behind his shoulder in the Land Rover’s direction. He clears his throat and puts on his most convincingly mindful smile.

“How’re you all doing?” He doesn’t linger around for the greeting to land and pivots to the side, intending for the sight of the car to appear more visible than his bottled up frustrations. “This might be a long shot—does anyone here know how to get into a car you’ve foolishly locked yourself out of?”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice at her back caused Annie to tense, eyes widening as she peered behind herself at the stranger, now only mere strides away. She swiveled in place, instinctively stepping away and knocking into Clarisse in her haste to put distance between them. Annalise’s pale gaze scrutinizingly swept over the man’s figure despite his attempts at moving the conversation toward his vehicle. If she wasn’t so intimidated, she would’ve laughed—the whole situation was embarrassing on the stranger’s part, though which was worse: locking himself out of his own truck or asking a group consisting largely of girls half his age for help breaking into it? What do you think? Yet, her mouth remained clamped tightly shut as her arms raised to cross defensively in front of her torso. She knew better than to poke a bear.

As the mystery man approached with a greeting, Joey stepped forward—hoping to come off friendly. “Oh no!” She said, hovering her hand over her lips with a quick jerk in an attempt to appear more oblivious to his situation than they actually were. “Do you happen to have a spare shoelace? I’ve seen someone tie a loop and lift the lock that way.” Joey tilted her head, looking up at him with a genuine concern. I have one! Hopefully I don’t need to unlace my boots for him though…

Before he could respond she blurted out, “—It’s a shame you’re so far from the city. I’d.. say you could call roadside assistance?—but you’d have to use a payphone and even then I don’t know if they come out this far..”

Roadside assistance. Kayden liked that idea far better than actually getting the man into his car. Could he do it? Sure, but he was loath to lend a hand. They didn’t know shit about this guy besides the fact that he was standing next to a very nice Land Rover. Better to leave it to someone whose actual job it was; either they’d know if it was his, or they’d take the heat if they guessed wrong and got charged with being an accomplice to theft.

He glanced in Joey’s direction. “They might, if your service is good.” And with a car this nice, he should. As long as it was his.

Clarisse immediately placed a hand on Annalise’s shoulder to stabilize her, squeezing it— You okay? But her eyes never left the man who had approached them with all the embarrassment that entailed. Thankfully, Joey had taken it as a sign to take the lead over the situation. Not wanting to be too far from Joey, especially in this situation, she stepped forward so she was in between the man and Annalise. “Mhm, it’s getting a little late too,” she agreed but made no further attempts to make a suggestion.

The stranger had closed the distance between them in two unwavering strides, his scowl replaced with a look of embarrassment at his current inconvenience. While Joey and Clarisse spoke first, Connie discreetly peered over his arm toward the vehicle behind him again before surveying the feelings of everyone in the group. Annie had looked planted further back—not by much, but enough to take notice of. Joey, ever the counselor with a penchant for shouldering bravery, took the blonde’s place at the front with Clarisse on guard close by.

Smart, Connie commended silently before turning back to the stranger and motioning toward his car. “How’d you lock yourself out?” As much as she was willing to help, the boating instructor supported the initiative Annie and Clarisse were taking to be wary of the man who stood in front of them. Everyone had been taught to proceed with caution with strangers at some point in their lives, but the warning seemed crucial to follow through with now. Lisa’s disappearance proved that.

Joey, normally generous with her trust and camaraderie towards others, felt a jolt of leftover paranoia from the Lisa announcement. What really happened to her?—an intruding thought in the face of sudden unease. On the surface, this man could be written off as nothing more than unlucky—caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though, Easthallow wasn't exactly a tourist destination. The town was at a higher elevation than most of the bustling summer spots—tucked away enough that it was more likely people would wander off the main highway on accident while they looked for their turn-off to the many resorts around the area.

He stood before her wearing a tailored shirt, nice shoes—far too put-together for a mountain getaway in the middle of July. Joey felt Annie and Clarissee keeping a steady distance—Connie grounded and cautious as she spoke to him. And the realization they actually were that skeptical crept up her spine. Even with the safety net of friends around her, her mind started to drift towards Lisa again. Too many weird things were happening today.

…What business does this guy have in Easthallow?

The smallest girls’ energy almost knocks him off balance—an unfortunate reminder of him—and his lips straighten as she barrels forward, spewing her thoughts out without taking a breath. Dakota’s patience surprises him, and then frustrates him, when did I get so used to his incessant babbling?

When the tallest girl of the group stepped forward, inserting herself between him and the honey blonde next to her, his face threatened to contort as a response. Not like blondes are safe around here these days. His eyes slide over to the blondest girl, the first to spot him, and a lump of disgust forms in his throat. Another Jonathan spawn? He schools the mask of his face from revealing his thoughts, not wanting the girl or her allies to comprehend the hostile thoughts beginning to form.

Pulled from his thoughts by one asking how’d you lock yourself out? Dakota laughs, an embarrassing exhale of air. “Early onset dementia, most likely,” he quickly jokes, hoping to settle the groups’ own potential hostility to a grown man discussing the matters of locked cars with a flurry of young adult women—save for the one man standing like a shadow behind the girls—and shrugs. “Was in a hurry to get into HomeGoods. Think the keys slipped out of my pocket once I jumped out.”

Annalise peered around the curve of Clarisse’s arm at the man, her left eyebrow arching skeptically. “Well, did you look for them?” The blonde hadn’t meant to vocalize the thought, and certainly not with as much doubtful condescension so evident in her tone, but with Clarisse acting as a shield between the two, someone to latch onto should things get bad, the tension wiring her jaw shut seemed to have eased slightly. “I mean, your keys are probably still there. It’s not like they grew legs and ran away while you were looking at lamps, or whatever.”

Clarisse was inclined to agree with Annie’s statements— surely the keys were just on the ground and it wasn’t like Easthallow was populated enough for someone to come and swoop them up from the ground suddenly. But she shifted uneasily, body tensing and ready to move at the slightest provocation. Ber eyes bounced from each person in front of her, from the one closest to the man—Joey— then to the others. Even if they were in a group, the alarm bells in her head kept ringing; if this man got angry enough, would someone disappear again?

Joey found Annie’s quips to be funny, offering a short laugh at the sarcastic notion. Oh, Annie.

She hadn’t meant to poke fun at his situation. Joey lightly apologized for the gesture, though traces of amusement hadn’t quite left her eyes yet, “Sorry—I mean, did you try retracing your steps?”

Prepared to answer with an understanding nod, Connie, instead, slightly pivoted her body toward the sound of Annie’s voice ringing from behind Clarisse’s form, compassion crossing her heart as she interpreted the girl’s outwardly skepticism for discreet worry.

Being friends with the girl at one point in her life had given the boating instructor insight into the quips she had at the ready, often deserving, but—think the keys slipped out of my pocket once I jumped out—maybe not this time. The blonde was right to be skeptical, they all were, but there was an existing part of Connie that didn’t want to misinterpret every situation as something to be paranoid of. Especially when the man in front of them sounded sincere.

Who wouldn’t be pissed off? She remembered his scowl. He just needs help.

Another thought crossed her mind, and suddenly, Connie found herself retreating toward where Kayden stood. First, her expression displayed a look that said, what do you think?, before fixing her tone into one quieter. “you’d be able to get inside, right?” chancing a fleeting glance toward the older man, she turned back to Kayden, pity threatening to pull the corners of her mouth downward. “I kinda feel bad. He seems harmless.”

He sighed, more of a nasal exhale than anything else. “I could,” he replies, shoving a hand in his pocket. “Might need a few things, but I could scrounge them up. But I’m not sold on possibly assisting in grand theft auto.”

With Annie forcing her way into the tight circle between her, Joey, and Bonnie, Juliette instinctively took a step back, distancing herself from the other blonde. A scowl settled onto her face as she begrudgingly ended up near Connie, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She kept to herself, watching the group argue over whether or not to help a stranger. Seriously? It was one guy against seven of them—what was the big deal?

Tuning everyone out, it didn’t take long before her ears caught onto a nearby conversation, enough to pique her interest. Without hesitation, she spun to her side, hair following in a jostled sweep as she brought the back of her hand to her mouth.

“Oh my god, Connie, you’re so right—” her voice dripped with syrupy sweetness, laced with a biting edge as she wedged herself between the two, uninvited but entirely unapologetic. Her hand curled around Kayden’s shoulder, fingers pressing in just enough to make her presence known.

“Kayden here—” she gave his shoulders a little shake for emphasis, “knows a thing or two about breaking in. I’m sure he’d be plenty of help.” A beat passed, and then—smack. Lips parting in exaggerated dismissal, she tore herself away from the group, irritation prickling at her skin for even humoring the thought. It had been a while since she’d last seen the Rebel lend a hand, especially when it came to Jonathan Evergreen. “But! Seems like you’re out of luck with this bunch,” she mused, tilting her head. “How about a name drop, hm? So we’re all on a familiar level.”

Her expression smoothed out, the scowl replaced with a thin, unreadable line. Leaning her back against a streetlamp, she kicked one foot up behind her, watching and waiting. Like Connie said, he seems harmless.

Joey’s eyebrow pointed briefly, slightly confused by Juliette’s offering of Kayden—just to write it off. Her friend’s ability to turn the air into what felt like prickling tension amused her nonetheless. Now it felt like they were teasing the man. Maybe Joey didn’t mind a little game.

“Oh…yeah!” Joey lit up, eager to solve at least some partial mystery surrounding the man in the meantime. She smiled sweetly, following Juliette’s lead in hopes for something to come about, “What IS your name, stranger?”

‘Breaking in?’ Wait—that’s fucked up. Joey flashed Kayden a look, only then realizing what Juliette was insinuating. Her eyes wide for the brief moment, signalling an—Oh shit. What the hell is going on?

At the uninvited touch, Kayden tensed. The line of his jaw hardened into something like steel. The two of them were not, and had never been, on that level. Why the hell was she touching him?

Juliette’s words only served to irritate him further, and he fought the urge to reach back and throw her hand off of his body. The only thing he felt inclined to break at this moment was the grasp she had on his shoulder. If he hadn’t wanted to help before, he certainly had no interest in it now.

He could see Joey’s gaze land on him from the corner of his eye, but he ignored it in favor of shoving his hands in his pocket, the edge of his frown curling into a bitter smile. It was small, but it was there. “Guess I am the resident expert in ‘breaking in’ to things,” he replied, casting Juliette a small glance before turning back to Connie and dropping his voice— more akin to a whisper, but just loud enough for the blonde to hear him. “The only thing Juliette knows how to break is her relationship, and she still has to push the other person into doing it for her.”

Kayden’s whispering didn’t go unnoticed. Juliette had expected it—half prepared for whatever jab he was about to throw—but his choice of words still caught her off guard, enough to earn a quiet snort. “Ouch, Kayden,” she shot back, amusement laced with just a hint of confusion. My relationship? The heck was he on about? Tilting her head, she added, “Careful, you’re acting like I hit a nerve when it’s only common knowledge. My bad.”

The entire camp didn’t need to know why she and Mona had broken up. Gossip spread like wildfire, twisting truths around like a game of broken telephone, but Juliette saw no point in setting the record straight. People broke up all the time—it wasn’t some grand tragedy.

She had been caught up in Renee’s world, drawn to the rush of her attention, the way it drowned out the years of being overlooked and dismissed. With her, every interaction felt like standing at the edge of something dangerous—intoxicating, worth any price. A comfort wrapped in cruelty, and if enduring the latter meant she got to bask in the former, wasn’t it worth it?

And Mona…Mona had been safe where she struggled to fit in. Warm in a way that made Juliette uneasy, because kindness had never come easily to her. With her, she could be soft, could indulge in the things she once loved without shame—the way they had shared pieces of themselves in hushed conversations, geeking out over things no one else cared about. But that version of her felt distant now, long gone.

It had been mutual, the breakup. She wanted to point that out. But what was the point when she knew no one would listen? Let people think what they want. They always did.

Joey pressed her back teeth into the flesh of her cheek, gaze wide in surprise over Kayden’s ability to come up with such a comeback—and so fast too. It was so effortless, the quip completely catching her off guard. Her eyes skimmed over Clarisse, then Annie, then Bonnie in quick succession. Yikes. That was sooo bad.

"Save something for the sunspot, geez!" Joey teased, a grin tugging at her lips. As much as she adored her new blondie, she knew when a little jab might be due. As of late, Juliette’s tongue seemed to sharpen with quips—dishing it out like it was second nature and twice as hard as it came back at her. Joey wasn’t worried though. Would it be such a crime that it was kind of fun to watch?

Anyhow, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed with Kayden. I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.

Despite this, Connie had thrown the man a bone before pulling Kayden into a conversation between the two of them. Clarisse’s gaze didn’t leave the man for a second, a question forming on her tongue that she desperately tried to sound nicer to avoid a possible confrontation. Then it was Juliette speaking up, tone shifting to something different yet something all too familiar and it was the first time Clarisse let the man out of her sight as she turned to the small group.

A small pang of sympathy entered her as Kayden was practically shoved into the spotlight unceremoniously. Even if he was someone she preferred keeping a distance from ever since the talks of his juvie days had made their way to camp, he didn’t quite deserve to be offered to a stranger on a silver platter. She looked at Juliette with more of a question of— why? instead of a glare. Why be so insistent on helping a stranger? And moreover, why throw another person under the bus while she was at it?

It was like watching a train wreck happen in real time as Kayden didn’t appear to let it go, but whatever he had said seemed to only be meant for Juliette and Connie. She considerably relaxed when Joey jumped up to make a joke about it, seemingly undisturbed by this entire exchange.

Begrudgingly, she spoke up just to return the topic to the man who needed help, “Or before breaking in, maybe we can look for these supposed keys first like Joey said?” she returned her gaze to the man. “Unless you’ve already exhausted all places you possibly could have dropped them?”

Risking a glance around the group, Juliette’s blue eyes locked onto Clarisse’s questioning gaze. She caught herself tensing, her back pressing a little too firmly against the lamppost, shoulders stiffening before she lifted a brow in return. Her gaze flickered to Kayden, then back to the younger counselor—what? Did you want me to lie?

Shrugging, she tore her eyes away before the moment stretched too long. Clarisse was too much of a reminder with her connection with the Evergreen, and Juliette wasn’t about to dwell on that thought any longer than necessary.

Joey ran her fingers through her hair, eyes set on the stranger again, “Sooorry, mister we’re a little hungry it’s almost dinner time.”—an apology she hardly meant. The brunette decided the whole thing was getting awfully boring now. And all she wanted to do was change out of her clothes and shower.

“Didn’t catch your name.” She reiterated, more brazenly this time—the interactions riling her up considerably. He definitely thinks were nuts now. Good, he should know not to mess with us.

Like a record scratching, Dakota’s subtle flinch at the honey blonde’s assumption he hadn’t attempted to look for the keys was hard to miss even in its slightness. What other reason would he have to approach a gaggle of young adults wanting to play dress up if he wasn’t able to get into the car? His smile straightens as he nods affirmingly to the shortest girls, “no dice, I’m afraid.”

Saved from his own thinning patience, the offer for the lone male—Kayden, as the blonde pointed out—to break them inside arose. Not sold on possibly assisting in grand theft auto. His brow ticks at the newest assumption of the boy with his pinched face allegedly driving off in the car, when all he needed was to get inside and retrieve the keys.

Instead of focusing on the illogical thought processes of what Dakota chalked up to the group still exhibiting the attitude of teenagers, the Holt is about to latch onto the opportunity to share his name and quell some lingering suspicions over his presence in the small town, while committing the names of both Kayden and Connie to mind when he’s distracted by the display of behaviour all too familiar—his eyes shift over to the blonde suspiciously, is she one of them?

From the prickled way she defends herself against words barely whispered, Dakota has half a mind to heave a sigh, thinking, we missed one and maybe Jonathan will crawl out from his hole if we took her now. How much more could one man lose before he accepted reality? The Holt wasn’t sure, but he was keen to find out—smiling, forcing an air of awkwardness, he darted his eyes around the group as if to gauge the reactions, when he truly cared little for the inner-dramatics of Camp Evergreen. In truth, the counsellors being fractured only further served their purpose.

Addressing the tallest girl, Dakota shakes his head firmly, “I assure you, my keys are inside. A wire hanger should do the trick. Fancy That! shouldn’t mind lending one,” he sends the comment towards Kayden, expression neutral and unassuming—lingering on the edge of Crandall Street was less than ideal. The explanation of hunger from the smallest girl draws a smile from the Holt, nodding his understanding as he bit down his hostility and impatience.

“Dakota Holt.” He introduces himself and stuffs both hands into the pockets of his coat, eyes landing on the counsellor’s that hadn’t parted with their name, a silent prompting for them to do the same.

It all happened fast. From Kayden’s—undeniably witty—quip that had her shielding an amused smirk behind the parcel dangling from her arm to Juliette’s sharp retaliation, Connie only had the chance to throw her attention back, forth, and around until she found it landing on, Dakota Holt. Nodding in acknowledgment once they learned his name, the boating counselor forced a tight-lipped smile, traces of an apology in it palpable for the rollercoaster they had dragged the poor man onto.

Simply, she stated. “Connie.” We’re burning too much time now. And, not wanting to waste another minute in a conversation that could dance around the circle for another round, she kept her comment to herself until she pivoted toward Kayden. “Sooo…” the lock? Her tone didn’t hang in the air with persuasion this time, refusing to add fuel to the unceremonious fire that had left her friend in the hot seat. I can get the hanger, she wanted to add, but paused after realizing the pressure she would be putting on his shoulders; the same pressure she wanted to avoid.

Instead, she opted for: “It’s up to you.” Connie shrugged halfheartedly, too, hoping that it would convey the message that he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, and that they could just head back to camp instead.

Holding in a sigh, Kayden glanced from Connie to the rest of the group. While her own tone was neutral, it was clear to him that most of the group was on board. Maybe not Annie or Clarisse, but the others didn’t seem to share their hesitation.

And really— if the guy was trying to steal a car, a full group of twenty-something year old witnesses probably wasn’t his ideal crew of helpers. At the very least, that’s what he could tell anybody if pressed.

“Yeah, I can do it,” he agreed, taking a few steps towards the car itself. He took a moment to study it before glancing back to Connie behind him and shrugging off his flannel. “Can you get me a hanger?”

“Yeah.” In a haste, Connie walked back toward the entrance of Fancy That! and slipped inside, tensity rolling off her shoulders slightly as the air conditioning expelled the effects of Easthallow’s humidity. Beelining toward the register in a purposeful stride, once she was close enough for the store owner to hear, she announced her reappearance with an amplified voice.

“Excuse me? I was wondering if you had a spare hanger I could use.” Glancing out the storefront window, she motioned toward the crowd of her friends and Dakota. “He locked himself out.”

Wordlessly, the store owner disappeared behind the wooden counter—the sounds of plastic sharply drowning out the soft music echoing throughout the store—before they popped up with one in hand.

“We’ll bring it back after.” Connie reassured with a nod in thanks, before breaking into a slight jog out of the store. Once she was hit with the familiar outside heat again, the counselor let out a quiet huff under her breath before displaying the hanger to Kayden. “Here.” she stated, before passing it into the open palm he extended out. Good luck!

Kayden stretched back his arm, allowing Connie to pass the wire into his hands. “Thanks,” he said. With a few quick moments and some light effort, he untwisted the thin metal until it looked exactly how we he wanted: nearly straight, with a hook on one end and a few inches left perpendicular to the rest. When it was ready, he put it between his teeth and reached into his back pocket.

Thank God he was heading straight to the survivalist activities after this; he’d grabbed his pocket knife on his way out this morning so he wouldn’t have to run back to the cabin for it. He flicked open the larger of two blades and shimmied it in between the window and the door until he could push back on the knife and push the window out of place. It was careful work— too much pressure and he’d break it completely.

Lucky for Dakota, getting into a locked car ran in Kayden’s line of work. Less than a minute after Connie’s return, he was slipping the fabric of his flannel in the gap he’d made to hold it open while he slid the wire hanger inside the Land Rover.

Annalise was in no hurry to divulge her name to Dakota Holt—even his name sounds made up, like Indiana Jones—and despite her rigid stance on not wanting to go out of her way to help him, she was grateful for the redirect in attention as Kayden and Connie took matters into their own hands. They were arguably the most responsible of the bunch—out of their group, those were the two best-suited for the job. Still, she hoped the favor would be dealt with quickly—the sooner they were on their way, or sent the stranger on his way, the better for them all. What kind of idiot loses his keys in his own car, anyway?

Clarisse still wasn’t too sure about having to help the man re-enter his car, but the others had made their decision. She was pretty sure that, from what she was seeing right then and there, Kayden was the only one who could actually do something about it without having to break open the window and just send Mr. Holt to the next town over with a broken window. It was the first time that she had ever seen Kayden show such technical skills, the most she had ever seen was their brief partnership during all the camp plays before he suddenly became aggressive towards her.

Instead of watching Kayden even more, she decided to observe Dakota Holt. He was insistent that his keys had fallen inside but something about it made Clarisse uneasy. Then again, a lot of things made her uneasy nowadays— especially when it involved random men in a relatively small town.

It should have been quick work to get into the car once he had the wire inside, but Kayden found a bit of a challenge with the lock itself. Some locking mechanisms were easier to lift than others, depending on the shape and design of the interior lock. Kayden’s own Ford Contour had a toggle switch that was easy to flip with a wire and a few seconds of work.

The 2001 Freelander, however, had a smooth pop-up lock with a slight rounded bulb at the top. Perfectly easy to grab with your fingers and lift, but a different story for a thin piece of wire. Not impossible, though. It just needed one quick motion, with enough force behind it to actually lift the lock, and he’d be in.

Shit, man, you bought one of the most annoying cars to break into without doing any damage. Maybe I should have just pulled up the weather stripping.

It took a few tries, but when he got the hanger caught in the groove between the bottom of the bulb and the rest of the lockstick, he yanked. It popped upwards with a soft click. Hell yeah. He gave it a test by pulling on the handle of the door— it gave under his hands, and his flannel started to slide down the car as he cracked the door.

Kayden pulled the hanger from the car and reached out to grab his shirt before it hit the ground, tossing it over his shoulder instead. As he stepped back, he turned towards Dakota. “Should be all set,” he said, shoving his free hand in his pocket. He hesitated, considered, then added: “Sorry if we were dicks about it.”

Joey couldn't wrap her mind around the point behind Juliette's pointed quips at Kayden. From where she stood, it seemed like nothing more than a swirl of misdirected bitterness, venom aimed at the one person Juliette felt was justified enough to attack amongst the group of girls. Joey hated the grating feeling of embarrassment and even more so, knowing a close friend was starting to get on her nerves. I get catty too when I'm hungry, but this is overkill.

She chose to push aside any tension hanging in the air, turning her gaze towards Kayden's movements instead. She watched, almost mesmerized by how ease he made it look. Within moments, he was rising from the door, cool and steady. Joey couldn’t help but smile, as if she was proud someone she knew could be of so much help within such a strange context of situation.

Juliette watched with a curious glint in her eyes, her head tilting from one side to the next as she swapped between Kayden trying to break into the car and the stranger—Dakota Holt, a name to a face. Thought that was a girl’s name, she mused internally.

A sharp click snapped her focus back to the resident Rebel, and a snort escaped before she could stop it. “Would be impressed, but—” she shrugged, gaze dropping lazily to her nails. Her amusement flickered, though, when she caught the time on her wrist. Shit, dinner.

She clicked her tongue. “Like I said, common knowledge. Guess the rumors are true.” She flashed a knowing smile, because really—this just proved her point in the end.

Kayden leaned back on his heels as he glanced at her. The corner of his lips curled up— half a grin, wolfish. Bitter. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he replied. “If you check the record, I used to break into buildings, not cars. This is an above-the-books work activity for me.”

Lifting her gaze, Juliette narrowed her eyes at the grin on his face, feeling her own lips curve into a grin that carried its own biting edge—fun.

A sharp laugh, just as bitter as his amusement, slipped past her lips. She flicked her hand in a dismissive wave before letting it drop to her hip, her other leg still kicked up behind her as she leaned against the pole. “As if that’s any better,” she quipped, tilting her head. “Cars, buildings—you’re still breaking in.”

He raised an eyebrow. The smirk was still affixed to his face, but his jaw ticked, betraying his irritation. And you’re still trying to become the dollar store imitation of a dead girl people said you pushed off a cliff, he thinks. The words are on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be unleashed like an angry dog. Of all the grips he’s had with Juliette, her dog-and-master obsession with Renee is perhaps the one he finds the most unpleasant. Embarrassing, really.

Present company, however, holds him back. He’s not blind to the fact that several of the people around him were actually close with Renee. And, despite the fact that he was never that fond of her, he’d never wanted her to go fucking missing. Bringing up her name to get points up on Juliette seemed like a chance better left untaken.

“And it was fucking fun,” he replied, instead. “You should try having more of that— you might loosen up enough for the stick to fall out of your ass.”

Dakota watches the exchange between Kayden and Connie, feigning a kind curiosity and mirthful smile. He intends for it to come across as what a nice and dependable friendship when truly, he was quite interested, and filed away the closeness of their dynamic. For all of the group’s faults—which they were many—the breaking and entering ‘expert’ seemed to listen to her.

He waited patiently with the gathering as Connie went to conduct the arduous task of collecting a spare hanger, grateful he wouldn’t be showing his own face in the store, with his thoughts drifting between each of the lingering counsellors. The shortest and tallest of the women seemed to have their personalities switched—the spitfire energy of the smaller was too big for her own body, whereas the tallest was calmer and methodical in how she spoke and acted, not missing the protective way she positioned herself.

Kayden, a slave to his own impatience, seemed to want to be anywhere but standing on the side of the road, tasked with breaking into the car. For that, Dakota found little fault—word spread fast in this town, and if Holt wasn’t intent on keeping up appearance, he might’ve smirked at how the cards fell in his favour. As for the sharp-witted Evergreen, as he was so inclined to believe, Dakota frustratingly fights to keep his gaze from drifting towards the blonde too often—hatred was a difficult emotion to mask. Not when there was so much trapped in the cavity of his chest.

As Connie returns with the coat hanger, he steps off to the side to allow Kayden some affordable wiggle room, but lingers close enough—in the calculated movement, Dakota’s eyes land on the less egregiously blonde head of hair, and the fixed posture she adopts. He senses, clear as day, the untrusting and suspicious state of mind she seemed stuck in. Smart, he thinks, you should be wary of me. Finally, the last of the group—a simple girl with not much to say, with dark eyes and bright pink hair that makes him want to fetch a pair of sunglasses.

The click of the car door opening and Kayden’s voice, should be all set, snaps Dakota from his lengthy observation. The beat of his heart kicks up a notch as he slides in between the man and door. Be quick about it, he cautions himself, snapping down to swipe the Blackberry phone from under the seat before anyone can notice—he blindly hoped the other was too distracted with the argument to take notice, but as he shoves the object discreetly into his pocket, he knows Kayden has seen.

“My daughters,” he explains curtly, taking hold of the door to slam it shut again—he tests the handle, satisfied as it opens once more—and flashes a warm smile to the group. “Thanks to the lot of you for keeping me company and saving me from a very angry teenage girl.” He ends with a laugh, abrupt in its pitch and nods sharply as if readying himself to bid them all farewell.

Too distracted to hear Dakota’s reasoning, Juliette rolled her eyes, a more genuine laugh slipping out. She was actually pleased with the little back and forth, and honestly? Surprised. She was so used to seeing Kayden act the way she used to—head down, hardly speaking.

A loser, she thought.

“Kayden,” she shook her head, her voice dripping with pity. “You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.” A stick up her ass? What is this, high school? “Plus, I’m having fun.” She gestured vaguely, her smile never faltering. “I’m not the one acting like a ticking time bomb.”

Her gaze flicked towards Connie, taking in her presence before scoffing openly. “Seems about right, the company you keep around.”

The satisfaction Connie felt at Kayden’s job well done was short-lived hearing Juliette’s voice from behind her: persistent, abrasive—she turned to sneak a glance at the cook from over her shoulder—annoying. Admittedly, however, the boating instructor was surprised to catch a glimpse of blue eyes briefly fixed on her, and the open use of ‘ticking time bomb’ being thrown in her direction made her eyes narrow. Her interest in Dakota’s car suddenly waned, and before she knew it, Connie pivoted her body to face the blonde who still leaned nonchalantly against the street lamp.

“You’re kidding, right?” bitterness evident, Connie considered taking a purposeful step forward before deciding against it. She didn’t, however, swallow her feelings for the sake of preserving any peace. Friends enabled her behavior—half of the group had decidedly reduced it to something that just needed adjusting to.

But, if anything was clear: We’re not friends, and I don’t have to put up with you.

“If your idea of ‘just having fun’ is throwing rumors in our faces, you should put your glasses back on and see how much of a raging bitch you’re acting like instead.”

Annalise’s foot tapped impatiently on the concrete, arms crossed as she watched the exchange from the safety of the opposite sidewalk. “What the hell is taking so long?” she mused aloud, not bothering to mask the discontentment in her voice. They had the door open already, but they seemed intent on lingering just long enough to air out some of their dirty laundry. Dakota’s thanks to the group fell on deaf ears as the blonde’s gaze darted from Juliette to Connie as they hashed out what appeared to be a second half to what they’d started in the costume shop. “Seriously?” Annie piped up, caution thrown to the wind in the height of her irritation. “You guys couldn’t have waited to have this out somewhere else?” You’re making us look bad.

Saved by the bell.

Annie butting in made Juliette pause, her smile dimming slightly before flattening into a straight line. The sharp edge in her eyes dulled, though the words sat at the tip of her tongue—I don’t need glasses to see how pathetic you are without Paige.

But she swallowed them down. No point in dragging this out any longer than necessary. I don’t even want to be here, she reminded herself, not with dinner looming around the corner and the strain that would come with it—working alone.

Her leg dropped from the lamppost, arms crossing against her chest as her gaze flickered between the three. It finally settled on Annie, lips twisting in brief annoyance before smoothing into something more composed.

This is so draining. How the hell did Renee put up with this for so long? At first, she understood the thrill of sparring with Kayden, the appeal of countering every remark with one of her own. But now? Did she push too far, dragging Connie into this? Maybe it stings more, since we used to be—

With a scoff that melted into a sigh, Juliette shrugged, a dull, dismissive Fine slipping past her lips. Then she pivoted towards the man beside her, curiosity flickering back as she raised a brow. Saving me from a very angry teenage girl.

Seeing the perfect opportunity to shift the focus off herself, she gestured at Dakota. “You have a daughter?” she asked, her tone light, pointed. “How old?”

Clarisse watched the back and forth with only mild interest, preferring to stay out of it as much as possible, and just watched as Kayden popped open the door with minimal difficulty. She noted how quickly the man sped forward as he interposed his body between Kayden and the interior of the car. Could he have been worried about the alleged rumors of Kayden’s breaking in and assumed the worst?

Dakota expressed his gratitude. So he was a father? Clarisse didn’t even know what to make of that information but she filed it away anyway, just in case they run into each other again. Though, she truly hoped that she wouldn’t see him again. To follow up with Juliette’s question about his daughter, Clarisse spoke up. “So, did you find your keys inside?” She asked as she gestured towards the car. If anything, it was just to prove that it was his car and they didn’t just help him commit grand theft auto or some kind of other scam.

Dakota slips a thumb over the Blackberry’s number pad stuffed deep into his pocket. Time to get out of here. He half-listens as the girl with her own personal shadow expresses her impatience, thinking how his own was wearing thin. A running list of reasons to part ways spring to mind, about to redirect the conversation to the shortest girls’ explanation of we’re a little hungry in hopes he’ll return to her—you have a daughter? How old?

“Fifteen.” The answer is immediate, a reflex. Stomach twisted into a knot, he reminds himself he volunteered that information and not to give into hostility—So, did you find your keys inside?

His jaw ticks, loud enough to be heard. They’re prying. “Between the seats, I presume. I’ll be hunting around for them after I visit my friend at the Library.” Part of him almost hoped they would follow. His ‘friend’ was the most eager of them all to kick things into higher gear—and with his dwindling patience and clenched hands, Dakota was hard-pressed to find fault in some slight entertainment.

Joey flashed Clarisse a tight smile, ripe with irritation. A sure sign her good friend would be getting some sort of rant about the whole situation if they had the time to speak alone about it. The bickering between Juliette and Kayden was starting to chip away at her patience. Juliette's icy detachment from any thread of courtesy reminded her too much of Renee—always distant, always sharp. As kids, it had been funny most of the time. Joey never minded it too much and if she did, Renee's cruelty always had some reason—something she'd share with Joey after the fact. She couldn't admit that it was always justified, but that's the way Renee had always been. Juliette was never this caustic.

What am I missing here? Maybe Juliette saw something in Kayden that justified the constant barbs, or maybe it was herself who was missing some crucial detail. Whatever it was, it made the whole thing hard to watch any longer.

Her attention snapped back to Dakota, his voice cutting through to answer new questions. Aw, he has a daughter.. Topics of welcoming distraction, a pull away from the mess that Joey invited gratefully. The thought of the mystery man having a daughter softened his image a little more, a bit of warm light in the midst of thick tension.

"I love the library!" Joey chimed in, a bit too cheerfully, the tone a desperate attempt to escape the cloud of negativity hovering just behind her. "All the archive fashion mags—it's a total treasure trove. If your daughter's into fashion, you should definitely take her with you." She paused for a beat. Wait, he knows about the library. 'Friend'?

Joey faltered, losing the dimple in her smile, "—Wait. Are you two from the area? Sorry, I might have missed that."

Bristling, barely contained, Dakota nods—terse and affirming. “Around the area.”

As Dakota all but brushed Clarisse’s question aside, Kayden’s eyes narrowed. It was suspicious enough that his first move was to grab the phone. His case was not helped by the fact that he seemed to be avoiding looking for his keys.

Those fuckers aren’t even there. I just broke into a goddamn stranger’s car, dammit.

He finished pulling his flannel back on over his t-shirt, frowning. “You’re just gonna leave your car unlocked while you go to the library?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest. “A bunch of people passing by just saw me break it open; you wanna leave it unattended with the lock popped?”

Dakota raises both brows—not from surprise, but the implausibility of the insinuation. “Easthallow’s population is on par with the number of campers under your care. We’re in full view of the stores. If anyone were to be foolish enough to drive off in the car, not only would their face be known, but they wouldn’t make it far.”

“Besides,” he gestures at the lamp-post opposite the one the blonde had leant against, noting the tattered missing posters of Evergreen girls. “We’re known for lost girls, not theft. Our trusty Officer Jones knows everything happening on these streets.” But not the woods.

Effectively chastised into silence by Annie’s sharp and stern reminder of the public—as well as Juliette’s surprising compliance that followed—Connie let herself fade into the background alongside Bonnie as she caught up with the scene unfolding in front of her. At least he got his car unlocked before sundown, the brunette crossed her arms over her chest and fought a yawn from breaking her neutral expression.

Her friends’ prying hadn’t gone unnoticed, but the counselor chose not to fan the flames—they were doing a good job on their own, and she didn’t have reason to pitch into the conversation when her sole concern was helping Dakota get back into his car. The nonchalant gesture that pulled her mouth into a visible frown, however, changed things. A lot.

Over various shoulders did Connie’s attention divert toward the flyer displayed on the lamppost Holt had pointed out—wrinkled, aged, and unstripped of the contact info that passerbyers could rip off and tip Officer Jones through. We’re known for lost girls, not theft. Was that supposed to be funny…?

Juliette bent slightly at the hip, lips parting for a remark—this is pointless now, leave the poor man alone—only to freeze. Her fingers tightened around the plastic handle of her bag, her widened gaze flicking towards him—what did he say?

At his gesture, she turned, facing the pole she’d been leaning on, only now realizing what was pinned against it. A missing poster. The Evergreen girls.

Her breath hitched. The paper, withered and warped by time, distorted their faces, but she still knew them. Was that supposed to be a joke? Her shock dulled into something heavier—grief pooling behind her ribs. Screw this man.

She exhaled through her nose, schooling her expression into something calmer, though her grip on her bag remained firm. Her blue eyes snapped between Bonnie, who acted as if she wasn’t even here, Joey, who offered no reaction, and finally, Clarisse. Her glare wavered slightly—Renee’s your best friend. Say something?

Kayden had posed a valid question, but Dakota’s answer was less than assuring. None of what he’d said was false, but there was something about the way he’d delivered the information that made Annalise’s skin crawl. See? All he needs is an axe, and he’d be the perfect serial killer. “Well, that’s a relief. You know, speaking of Officer Jones, maybe we should ask him to keep an eye on your truck—you know, just in case anyone gets any ideas.” In case you come back later with a body to put in the back. The blonde forced a saccharinely-sweet smile—the first she’d allowed since entering the stranger’s orbit.

Clarisse let out a breath at his dismissive attitude and her eyes drew back to the closed door. He hadn’t even made an attempt to find the keys— no proof, no nothing. This can’t be his car. From how Kayden and Annie were throwing out such kind suggestions, they likely all came to the same conclusion. He claimed to be from Easthallow and Clarisse tucked that information to the side. As he said, the town was small— small enough that if she made an attempt to report him to Officer Jones, maybe he could provide some useful information if they couldn’t successfully pull Dakota to the station.

Connie’s sympathy, alike his patience with the group, started to rapidly dwindle, and when Annie’s suggestion reached her ears, she nodded before she knew what was doing. “Good idea,” Levine agreed, before training her attention on Dakota. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your car, permanently. Not after Kayden just helped you back in.”

Dakota physically felt as the seconds ticked by—his comment landing as hard as intended—and forces himself to remain patient, eager to no longer be a voyeur to their apparent grief. That horrid fact almost curls at his lip, disdainful the Evergreen girls might be something to miss. From what he’d heard, and witnessed, there were little redeeming qualities from the Evergreen spawns.

“Haven’t you heard the news?” He throws the comment back at the sweet toned girl, not buying into her act for a second. “There’s not a single officer lingering inside of the department. Their hands are full with another missing girl,” his eyes flick back to the poster he’d pointed out, forcing his mouth in a pitying frown. Renee and Paige Evergreens’ face beamed back at the group and not a single slip of paper for the dark skinned farmer—a sore spot, his own Native American heritage and land overlooked to build the camp for prestigious children. “Pity her family isn’t as rich, or white, as the Evergreens.”

Annalise scoffed, blue eyes narrowing. “Everybody knows that being rich has nothing to do with it,” she countered. “If it did, they wouldn’t still be up there.” The blonde pointed a manicured nail at the missing flyer, as if that single sheet of paper didn’t already hold the attention of every member in their group. Money couldn’t fix all problems—the Evergreen family knew that better than any. It didn’t matter how many pictures of the sisters were plastered around town, their popularity and status wouldn’t bring them home.

With another missing girl. Juliette had spent the day forcing herself to keep a neutral expression, preferring to appear composed and indifferent instead of her old meek demeanor. But like before, with her hiccup with Connie, she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from dropping, her composure slipping just enough for a frown to settle in.

He’s talking…about Lisa.

Her blue eyes flickered from the group to the missing poster Annie gestured to. Then, instinctively, she turned, scanning the area—he has to be wrong.

But he wasn’t. From where she stood, there was no sign of the missing farmer. Not next to the Evergreens’ own weathered poster, not anywhere—at least, not on this side of town. Juliette tore her gaze away to instead drop to her white shoes as her lips pressed together, her stomach twisting in a way she hated. That’s awful.

A strange emotion curled inside her gut—something she couldn’t quite push down. Sympathy. It clung to her, stubborn, unwashable. “…We’ve only just found out today,” she said at last, her voice measured. Her gaze lifted, sharpening as it landed solely on Dakota.

Connie’s narrowed eyes—still fixed on Dakota—widened slightly at the mention of her longtime friend Lisa. Pity her family isn’t as rich, or white, as the Evergreens. Her arms came down to hang at her sides and she felt her fingers curl tighter around the plastic handle of her bag that held her costume. What—?

She felt the instinctive urge to defend her friends, to be rid of the lump that began to form at the back of her throat before it took up an uncomfortable amount of space. But, instead found herself stuck in place as her cheeks flushed, embarrassment steadily winning the race against vindication. I convinced them to stay and help you, Connie huffed as she fought to urge to scan the group for gauged reactions.

Assuming the conversation must be too nuanced for a group of young adults with costumes in hand—though, he levels a look at Connie—he shrugs a simple shoulder and remains grateful as the hand in his pocket is concealed, clenching hard around the phone. “Take your chances of lingering around Easthallow as night approaches if you must, but I have a friend to meet and a child to take care of. Thank you for your assistance, I do appreciate it.”

The sound of his ongoing response made her briefly turn back to face him, and when she took note of the pointed look he had thrown her way, annoyance crossed her features—a stark contrast to the friendly demeanor she had offered him at the start.

Thank you for your assistance, I do appreciate it, in the height of her feverish attitude, his tone felt more mocking than anything, draining the rest of her energy to entertain what else he might’ve had to say. “Whatever,” she dismissed, before turning in the direction back to camp and storming off, “asshole” floating in the slight breeze behind her.

Joey's eyes flickered over her shoulder, catching the telephone pole and its tattered papers hanging by their loose, rain-logged and rusty nails. Her lovely, old friends fluttered weakly in the breeze. It hit her hard then. How many times had she walked these streets in the last week—unconcerned by their presence? The world felt all too small and cluttered. The empty street, summer air, the dying sun looming ahead, and relentless tension from every which way swirled around her like thick smoke.

Connie had spun away with a final insult, her heels striking the pavement as she disappeared down the pathway they should’ve been on this whole time. Joey could hardly turn to watch her go; her mind still locked in the space between all the words. And Dakota, the worst of it. His statements, like careless stones casted only to interrupt what little peace her hometwon could hold onto. She could barely contain the words that bubbled out of her. “‘If you must’—you make me sick,” Joey mocked him, arms crossed and fuming, “Stop talking like you know everything, when just minutes ago, you were begging for our help. ‘Cause—”

Fire climbed up her throat, constricting her with anger. Normally, it was never a problem for her to deal with confrontation. To some degree, she often liked the challenge of asserting herself against assholes like him. But there was too much happening all at once, scattering her sense of reason or wit. She couldn’t even manage any snarky comment, only harsh words seemed to make it out. Her waterlines burned, eyeliner and mascara she’d reapplied after the swimming session soon to betray her if she didn’t keep these emotions steady. This is the worst first day of camp ever. Joey blinked back her tears, laughing in frustration with how awful her day was turning out to be. “Forget it. Go fuck yourself. I hope the janitor locks you in the second floor bathroom, you creep.”

There was no waiting for the sting of retaliation or any reactions from her peers, Joey turned and ran away. The prickling anxiety crawled under her skin as she crossed the pavement and disappeared.

A hand clumsily reached to wrap around her own elbow as she rested her arms loosely against her chest. Joey’s sudden outburst wasn’t new—Juliette was used to calming her down, used to their routine of venting at the end of the day, just the two of them picking apart whatever had riled Joey up this time.

But tonight, the Techie didn’t react—didn’t validate her feelings.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. What did we expect? A reaction was inevitable. We riled her up. She swallowed back the concern rising in her throat as Joey took off in a sprint. Her fingers curled tighter around the handle of her bag. “Let’s just go.”

With a dismissive wave, she turned on her heel and walked off—unfortunately, trailing behind Connie. But her thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

As the counsellors trickle down Crandall Street in a single-file line leading into Hallow's Trail, Dakota watches the retreat with a sly and knowing smirk. He was sure that his sister wouldn't appreciate the candid display of his hostility, a tenuous subject between them as it was a stark difference against her unending patience. Pulling the stolen phone from his pocket, the Holt powers it to life. This, he knew, would placate her.

Shouldering off the counsellors' personalities, varying and troubling in their own ways, Dakota walks with purpose towards the Library—Hal was a dead man for leaving him in open water, but after the incessant prying into his life... he wouldn't mind mentioning a certain gathering at the Sunspot tonight to the obedient werewolf.

cast:
location:
easthallow

 
a happy accident

drain, the liquor store
L
iberty hurriedly bid their group farewell, shrugging on her yellow cardigan as the afternoon heat began to retreat into a cool summer breeze. Easthallow’s unpredictable weather seemed to start and end on the borders of Fairview—Portland never seemed to struggle with the predicted climate—and it wasn’t the first time the History Buff watched the local news channel scratch their heads, hopeless to explain why the expected forecast fell through again. She chalked it up to global warming.

“Ready?” She asks Levi and shuffles her shopping bag from one hand to the other, their wings poking through the flimsy plastic handle—she only hoped he wouldn’t ask about it, not sure how else to word we can match next summer without it sounding presumptuous. It was only day two and Liberty had enough assumptions to last her through the year.

In any case, she plants a bright smile on her face—not a single lift of one corner of her mouth, too stubborn to appear cheerful—a genuine one to distract from their latest discovery of Lisa. I’ll call Officer Jones tomorrow morning, Liberty decisively told the group as they exited Willamina, knowing the sun would set soon enough and Easthallow wasn't like the city; crime does sleep, and so would the local law enforcement until they clocked in for work at eight a.m.

“Would Leon mind if we skipped out on tequila?” She heads in the opposite direction of Hallow’s Trail, following the sidewalk of Burnett Street and past the soon to be closing establishments.

Waiting by the door for Liberty, Levi didn’t bother with a goodbye. He’d see them all at dinner anyway—especially at Truth or Dare. Stubborn, he reminded himself, standing still as he waited to pay for the glasses and coat, repeating over and over how much he didn’t want to be there tonight. But his eyes landed on the leather jacket in his hands, and then on Liberty, just a fleeting glance. Can’t disappoint her.

Ready? With a guarded nod, he rolled his shoulders back, forcing himself to stand a little taller as he watched the others drift off in the opposite direction. “As I’ll ever be.”

At least the liquor store was just across the road—less time to sit in silence, less time to let Lisa’s absence press down on them. “Thinking tequila might be everyone’s best friend tonight, actually,” he said, trying for nonchalance. He paused, flashing Liberty an apologetic look. Why the fuck did I say that?

Rushing to correct himself, he kept his head down and quickly added, “We’ll change Leon’s perspective of drinking with Galliano, you know—less drowning, more savory type deal.”

Liberty cracks another smile at the mention of Galliano, adjusting the handles of the bag to wrap around her wrist. “Fair point. Can’t dictate the drink options for everyone,” her nose wrinkles, reminded of last summer and the horrendously strong drink Leon mixed for her.

Spotting the familiar way Liberty wrinkled her nose in displeasure, the corners of his mouth twitched into a slightly crooked smile. “It gets the job done,” he said simply.

Pulling open the door of Drain—a liquor store with wooden floorboards, walls, and decor—she gestures with a nod of her head for him to step in ahead of her. “Think you might be right, though,” Liberty muses, careful to keep her tone from lowering into foreboding territory, refusing to set him into a spiral. “Drowning, tequila as a best friend, might as well give the people what they want.”

She watches Levi carefully for the telltale sign of confirming—that would be exactly his plan for the night—or if the former band geek might stray from the desire to be plastered enough to forget real life and exist in the moment, muting all thoughts of dwelling, and Lisa.

As Levi stepped into the store, the blast of cold air brushed against his bare arms, sending a sharp shiver down his spine. He walked further inside, in step with the history buff, his thoughts trailing back to their conversation. Thinking you might be right, though—I shouldn’t be. Dependency was too familiar, and lately, he had the sinking feeling he was slipping back into old habits—miserable, angry, desperate to dull it all.

“Probably for the best,” he muttered, his voice lacking conviction as his gaze settled on the rows of bottles. “Can’t give people an excuse to start pointing fingers—” A pause. He already knew how it would go. People and their alcohol. If Liberty played it safe, someone would say she was out to ruin the fun. If she didn’t, they’d find something else to blame her for.

His hand hovered over a shelf. “Two bottles?”

Liberty noted the pause but decided not to call on it, instead directing her attention to the woman behind the counter—with classic and timeless features, more bold than the history buff thought Easthallow capable of—and waves at her. “Hello. We don’t need any help,” she adds at the end, not wanting to put out the owner and drag her from behind the counter.

She joins Levi by the shelf of tequila, heaving a sigh as she agrees, “two. Should be more than enough.” For the entirety of camp? Definitely. For Leon alone? Debatable. Her eyes slide over the options, turning to stare at the wall of options behind them. “What won’t send Leon to an early grave?”

Too focused on the rows of bottles in front of him, Levi hummed lowly, fingers tapping idly against his leg as he weighed his options—not at all fazed by the prices. “Two,” he echoed back, nodding along. That’d do.

His hand wrapped around the neck of a short, stout bottle—slightly rounded, its rectangular shape made of clear, thick glass. A cork stopper sat snugly at the top. Patrón. Silver tequila. With a raised brow, he held it up for Liberty to see, throwing in a halfhearted shrug. “Maybe he needs it,” he muttered, the early grave part left unsaid but implied. “Never tried this brand before. Looks expensive.” Which, in true Levi fashion, meant it was most likely dog shit. Still, it was worth a try. He brushed the thought aside, thumb running absentmindedly over the glass bottle.

Liberty is reminded of a campus memory; their celebrating class drinking Patrón with pineapple juice at the end of the first semester, crowded around a booked out restaurant on the upper east side of New York. It wasn’t the worst memory—or drink, considering—and nods with a smile. “If you see any mixers around, grab some pineapple juice.”

The sound of movement near the front of the store pulled his attention, his gaze snapped up and locked onto a familiar figure he hadn’t seen in a while. He stepped into another aisle beside Liberty, offering her a wave. “Hey, uh, Theo, right? Been a while. Still cooped up here alone?”

Theo had just plucked a pencil from the drawer below the register, settling back on her stool to begin work on the local newspaper’s daily crossword puzzle, when a voice from between the shelves derailed her train of thought. She’d known she wasn’t alone—most people that passed through the store were familiar enough to find their own way, so Theo didn’t bother to bombard them with offers of help and forced small talk—but the use of her name in a tone she vaguely recognized piqued her interest, dark eyes rimmed in thick, black liner lifting from the dull tones of the page in front of her. The corner of her mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “It’s getting people to leave me alone that’s the real trick.” Her head tilted, gaze flicking briefly between the aisles before her brow furrowed. “Where’s the one with the big hair? Isn’t this usually his job?”

She couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of each customer that rotated through Drain’s door, but the counselors from the nearby summer camp appeared each July like clockwork—younger than most that perused Theo’s stock and oddly unfazed by how much money they spent. At their age, Theo’s only source of alcohol had been whatever canned drink she could scrounge up at college parties or shots she could flirt her way into at dive bars. It was enough to distinguish them from the blur of faces popping in and out of view on the other side of the counter. The man standing before her now had visited before—Skyscraper—but the blonde in his tow was fresh meat.

“Don’t tell me he sent you to do his dirty work…”

Moving down the aisle with Liberty, Levi scanned the shelves, eyes darting over the different brands as he half-listened to Theo’s response. A sharp laugh escaped him at her comment—undoubtedly aimed at Leon. “He’d be pissed to hear that,” he instantly quipped back, shaking his head.

Passing by the cider and premixes, he noted the absence of pineapple juice. Must be in the back, he concluded, straightening up from his slightly bent position. He glanced towards the other end of the store, mentally double checking with himself if he had remembered the layout.

“Sort of,” he added vaguely as he continued, leaving it at that. It wasn’t his place to go on about Leon’s unfortunate new position—all because two girls had gone missing. Three now, he corrected bitterly, the thought souring his mood again. “Busy, camp, same old.” Shaking it off, Levi crouched near the beer selection, pointing at a few options before glancing up at Liberty’s green eyes, what are we thinking?

Theo hummed her acknowledgement, attention already dropping again to the word game sprawled on the table’s surface—she didn’t particularly care to keep up-to-date on the camp’s drama, and she was grateful that the man didn’t seem eager to spill any. The pencil flicked back-and-forth between her index finger and thumb absentmindedly as Theo read the first listed clue:

1 Across: European city where werewolves are said to thrive in Warren Zevon’s 1978 hit.

Too easy. Theo chuckled to herself as her hand shifted over the paper, lead utensil scribbling the word ‘London’ into the blanks at the top of the grid.

Noticing Libby’s unusual quietness—and assuming she and Theo hadn’t met—he stood and turned to the owner of the store, briefly meeting her gaze. “This is Liberty,” he said, gesturing to the blonde beside him, completely unaware of how soft his smile had become. “Don’t think you guys have met yet.”

Theo glanced up, eyes moving past Levi to the woman that accompanied him. There was something in the way she carried herself, a quiet sort of confidence. She looked far too expensive for Easthallow—what was she doing in a place like this? “You’re a lot less green than I expected,” Theo mused. “A lot shorter, too, without the spiky crown.”

Liberty pulls a box of the usual beer brand from the bottom shelf, stopping the wrinkle of her nose to showcase her disdain as she wanted to refrain from offending the owner, Theo, was it? She glanced over to the woman bent over a puzzle, interest piqued instantly—a rare spot of restraint from the history buff, considering the dig at her apparent wealth… not wrong, though.

“Point me to any young adult that would pass up on the generous salary Jonathan offers,” Liberty starts with a half-smile, heaving the beer from the shelf and onto the counter—a few inches away from Theo’s puzzle—for the time being, “and I’ll cut you half my earnings. Word or logic puzzle?” She tips her head at the paper, and again, averts her eyes from being too nosy.

Theo arched an eyebrow at the jolt of clinking glass as Liberty deposited a pack of beer on the counter mere inches from where the brunette sat. She dropped her pencil, hand falling to prop against the table’s edge as she pushed herself into an upright position. “Frankly, I don’t care what you—or anyone—does with Jonathan’s money. Wherever it ends up is bound to be better than his fat wallet.” Theo leaned forward again, chin landing on the palm of her hand as her nails—black polish chipped and in dire need of a fresh coat—tapped against her cheek thoughtfully. “Is it worth it?” she asked. “I mean, money talks, but so does the news. After all the shit that went down last year, you wouldn’t catch me back at that damn camp. It might seem lonely being shut up in here with my word games, but it beats whatever’s cooking over there.” The shop owner nodded toward the door as if Evergreen’s boundaries laid just outside the threshold. Some days it felt that way—the drama and chaos that came along with the associated family was inescapable.

Liberty blinks with quiet surprise by Theo’s forwardness—almost impressed by the woman’s bluntness in comparison to the counsellors at Evergreen turning a blind eye, as if last summer was a distant memory—and tilts her head to respond, “is it worth living in Easthallow? Not like the supposed killer of Camp Evergreen resides solely on campgrounds.” She refrains heavily from mentioning Lisa, but ends her response with, “seems like we’re all fair game in this town.”

“Some more than others.” Theo’s smug smile was guarded behind pursed lips as her gaze flicked across Liberty’s features—blonde hair, light eyes, pretty, rich. She fit the criteria for Evergreen’s missing girls to a tee—Liberty had better hope there wasn’t a serial killer on the loose, as they were rarely the type to diverge from their preferences.

Turning back to Levi, her half-smile pulls into an apologetic one. “Is one carton fine, or do we need another?”

Doing his best to mind his own business, the taller man found himself caught between a rock and a hard place, momentarily stunned by Theo’s bluntness—shockingly on par with Liberty’s. Woah, damn, he thought, opting to remove himself from the situation entirely, but not without quickly replying, “one more.” With a quiet exhale, he veered down a different aisle, determined to find pineapple juice or at least something sweet enough to pass as a mixer.

Even from where he stood, he could vaguely make out the continued conversation unfolding at the front of the store. His mind wandered as he idly scanned the shelves, thoughts circling back to the camp, to the same question that had been upsetting at him since Lisa was announced missing—why didn’t Jonathan Evergreen shut it down? He had folded quickly enough when it came to his own kids, hadn’t he? The thought was bitter, curling in his chest as he huffed out a quiet breath through his nose. Total fucking bullshit.

Still, it made him reflect on his own reasons for returning. It wasn’t like he could keep using Leon as an excuse forever, even if it held some truth. Two weeks without his best friend didn’t sit right with him—it never had. That’s just how their friendship worked. But—

Levi swallowed, dark eyes flickering towards the front of the store, locking onto a familiar head of blonde hair. The opal earring caught the light, glinting softly beneath the fluorescents, and his stomach twisted. He knew. It was much more than that.

Shaking his head, he felt strands of overgrown hair fall into his eyes. With a quick motion, he lifted a hand to brush them aside, scanning the shelves in search of more alcohol. No luck—but his eyes landed on a lone bottle of pineapple juice alongside other fruity variants. He exhaled through his nose, reluctant but not about to leave empty handed. Grabbing an alternative—a coconut blend—he made his way back, shoulders rolling as he closed the distance.

He flashed Theo a tight-lipped smile, brief and unreadable, before his expression softened into something more genuine when his gaze met Liberty’s. With a small grin, he lifted the items cradled in his arms, flicking his eyes down, then back up in a silent prompt for her to look. “You’re in luck,” he admitted, grin turning sheepish.

The shift in demeanor as Levi’s focus slid from Theo to Liberty was likely far less subtle than what he was striving for. The shopkeeper rolled her eyes at the mundanely tender moment between the two counselors. “If you guys are gonna do that sappy shit, take it outside.”

“Ouch.” But something else caught his attention. Just behind the cashier, where Theo stood, a display shelf lined with bottles stood in neat rows—positioned deliberately, he realized. Probably to keep people from snatching the good shit. His lips twitched at the thought as his gaze settled on a particularly tall bottle. “Ah,” he drawled, nodding toward it. “So you are holding out on us. How much for the Galliano behind you?”

Theo shook her head. “Shouldn’t you be saving up for a house, or something?” she teased, but even so, her arm stretched toward the alcohol in question, fingers wrapping around the bottle’s neck as she lifted it from its spot on the shelf and placed it beside the pack of beer. “I swear, I’ll never understand the way you kids throw money around.” The brunette’s eyes briefly fell to the stock Levi had already accumulated in his grasp before traveling upward to his face once more. “Thirty. What do you guys do with all this, anyway? Giving the kids alcoholism before they can drive?”

Focusing on his foolish grin and the triumphant way he held the pineapple juice for her to inspect, Liberty gently tapped his elbow in thanks, her warm eyes then choosing to slide over to Theo at her comment. She was about to correct the woman, we’re not being sappy, but Liberty wasn’t much of a liar.

Instead, the lone Fallon daughter casts another glance around the store, hoping to land on a brand that jogs some familiarity as the two conversed. “It’s an ‘Evergreen tradition’, as far as I know,” Liberty explains, bored by the repetition of a tireless mantra. She brushed off her first summer’s Truth or Dare with ease, refusing to breach the contract she’d signed for a few hours of playground games and drinking, only to find some people worth going for—she cuts Levi a glance, her mind itching to dwell on the Galliano, a fact about her that he never seemed to forget.

Are you sure you want to uphold every tradition that camp has? Yet, as much as Theo wanted to blurt her harsh thoughts, she kept her mouth shut—she’d said too much already.

“With the way these kids behave? Some are well on their way to rap sheets,” coming back to herself, Liberty shrugs and searches the row of liquor behind Theo’s head. Deciding the other counsellor’s weren’t worth the money of that shelf, she turns towards Levi and lightly nudges his side, “I’ll split with you, give me a moment to find some Vodka.”

Theo snorted, beginning to ring up the drinks as they gradually began to gather on the countertop. “I don’t doubt it,” she agreed. Perhaps she had judged the blonde woman too harshly—she seemed awfully self-aware for someone born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Money didn’t define people, after all, but it all-too-often controlled them. “Brats today, felons tomorrow—the pipeline of a kid never told ‘no’.”

Shouldn’t you be saving up for a house, or something? “Living while we're young, what can I say?” Levi’s eyes landed on the bottle, its long neck standing taller than the rest. The label read Black Liquor, 30% alcohol. Yeahh, kinda don’t wanna share this with everyone. Should’ve come into town themselves.

“At this rate, you might only live while you’re young. Enjoy your liver while you still have it.” Theo quirked an eyebrow, smiling knowingly. Her line of work gave her the ideal vantage point to oversee the circle of life—young partiers giving way to drunk, old men stumbling by the store windows in search of enough change for one can of beer. It was almost sad, if it didn’t keep her in business.

“Thirty?” he echoed, reaching for his wallet, only for Liberty’s voice to cut through—I’ll split with you.

His brow furrowed slightly, a retort forming on his lips—how he could cover for them both—but he hesitated, mouth clamping shut. She wants to pay. Don’t make her feel inadequate.

With a nod, he kept his gaze locked on the back of her head before glancing away, using the moment to double check that they had more than enough for the night. And no doubt where Leon tended to screw up—overbuying, overdoing it.

Looks good enough, he thought, shifting his weight onto his elbow as he waited for her to return.

Liberty, returning with both hands full of not only Vodka but a bottle of Bailey’s too—the sale caught her eye—she shoves her hip into Levi’s at Theo’s jab, enjoy your liver while you still have it, with an expectant raise of her brows. Her first summer at camp was an enlightening experience into the life of a Jackson and it didn’t stop at just alcohol. “Hear that? Kiss your late-thirties goodbye.”

Levi scoffed openly between the two women, rolling his eyes with zero subtlety. “At least I’ll go out having a good time, right?” he shot back, voice edged with his usual sharp humor. Then, quieter, more to himself—

“I’m trying to cut back for that reason.”

Shuffling the bottles onto the counter, the blonde nods her head decisively to the owner and waits patiently beside Levi as their stash is scanned, “that’ll be all. Have you lived in town for long?” She tried to keep her ebbing curiosity at bay, but prying a little could be seen as harmless small talk. Theo seemed a little apathetic for a small town native, or maybe the woman detested living up to stereotypes—something Liberty could relate to.

The cash register’s beep as Theo scanned another bottle drowned out the small scoff that escaped her at the young woman’s incessant curiosity. She’s a paying customer, she reminded herself. She’s a paying customer. She’s a paying customer— “A while,” the store owner finally answered, forcing a smile that likely didn’t come across nearly as pleasant as she’d intended. “Moved here after college. Big cities aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” It wasn’t a lie—just enough to, hopefully, satiate Liberty’s nosiness without having to reveal her entire life’s story. The crinkling of paper as Theo wrapped the bottle securely before placing it into the brown bag along with the others. “You’re not from here, are you?” See how she likes it…

Ever observant, Liberty picks up on the forced and plain smile. Hm.

“Sure. Not everyone can handle it,” she responds and loads up her arms with the scanned paper bags. New York was hardly the utopia people assumed it to be, but she’d sooner look out the window and see people with purpose rather than tumbleweeds rolling by.

You’re not from here, are you? “No. Wouldn’t dream of it. Ready?” Liberty directs the final inquiry to Levi as the last of their order is scanned through, an insistent spark in her eyes.

Theo’s gaze narrowed, back teeth sinking into the side of her cheek. Liberty may not have been an Evergreen, but her condescending attitude was just as bad, and the shopkeeper decided then and there that she didn’t like the young woman much. Her true, privileged colors bled through the paper-thin mask of small talk too easily, and Theo wasn’t nearly as tedious with her wrapping of the last bottle as she had been with those that came before it. If it breaks and leaks on her, so be it. “I don’t think many people do.” This town’s not even big enough for your head.

And here we go. Levi stood quietly to the side, watching the exchange unfold. His elbow rested against the counter, knuckles tucked just below his cheek as he leaned into the weight. Friend or foe? The question lingered in his gaze as he raised a brow, waiting for Liberty.

It was surprising, really—seeing how interactive Theo could be. Must have been Leon, he figured, knowing the boating instructor had a habit of fumbling through conversations. Levi had never been much help in those moments, usually finding mild amusement in watching Leon flounder before stepping in with a casual ruffle of his hair to pull him out of it.

Lost in reminiscing, he barely caught the end of the conversation—Wouldn’t dream of it—before deciding, Okay, time to go.

With a nod, he gently tapped his palm against the counter, pushing himself off to join her at the side. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet. “The next activity should be wrapping up soon, anyway. Dinner?”

“No thanks,” Theo muttered. “Not hungry.”

Turning to meet Theo’s gaze, he gave a curt nod while raising a brow. “How much for everything?”

Theo’s hand lifted to the small, rectangular screen protruding from the back of the cash register, swiveling it toward Levi at his prompting and tapping the number—on the higher end of double-digits—glowing against the black background. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, glancing between the pair. “Cash or card?”

“Cash,” Levi said without hesitation. Leaning in slightly, he squinted at the price, letting out a faint whistle before slapping his share of the bill onto the table. Without missing a beat, his hands moved straight to the bags. “Thanks, Theo.”

“No problem. Try not to give yourself alcohol poisoning out there.”

Liberty thoroughly enjoys the narrowing of Theo’s eyes she’s offered in response, reminded of Mona and their back and forth—at least with the shopkeeper, she senses the woman is far more quick tempered than the steadfast stubbornness of the skeptic.

And fun, her subconscious adds as the history buff unzips her bag to pull out the neatly folded bills from her wallet with one hand. Mona is hardly this entertaining.

“Keep whatever change you need,” Liberty smiles, forcing it to be genuine rather than insulting as her word choice was. She glances at the bills on the countertop, to the front of the store at a rapidly approaching figure, and then to Levi—that’s our cue—she lifts both shoulders in affirmation as she answers his question, “dinner. Let’s head out.”

With a curt nod and a wave, Levi flicked his gaze to Liberty, stealing a brief moment to watch as she paid for the other half. When she grabbed the other bag, they started towards the front. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself—”

His words cut off as his shoulder slammed hard into someone else's. Annoyance flared beneath the surface—seriously, watch where you’re going—but instead of snapping, he muttered a sharp, “My bad,” barely sparing a glance. Shorter than him. Dark hair. That was all he caught before a hand steadied him.

He flashed Liberty a quick look of gratitude before shouldering into the door, holding it open. “Think we’ll get lucky with the seating plan?”

Theo waited until the pair had receded before allowing the scowl to take over her face in all its intensity, raking the money off the counter and jabbing at a button on the cash register’s keypad. The store didn’t need Liberty’s generosity, but far be it from a rich, white woman to let that stop her from doing a little charity work. She didn’t even bother to count the stack of bills before sorting them into the open drawer—Liberty may have been a snob, but she didn’t strike Theo as a thief. “Keep whatever change you need,” the shopkeeper muttered, voice lilting mockingly. “Don’t spend it all in one place! You need it more than I do.”

Hal Philips, the local Librarian, slams shoulders into a too-tall man he was so transfixed by that the inevitable comes to pass—shit, almost tumbles out of his mouth, knees fighting to keep him upright as he stumbles across the threshold, elbow catching on the doorframe. His mouth thins into a line as he nods in grim acceptance, tossing an I’m totally fine wave at the retreating figures of the counsellors.

Harshly slamming the register’s drawer into place, the dark-haired woman allowed herself a glance upward again, catching the aftermath of what appeared to be a bump in the doorway as the couple was leaving and a familiar figure drew near. “Don’t let them walk all over you,” Theo chided.

“Easier said than done, dear,” Hal wags his brows playfully at the woman, grateful they’d taken a liking to each other—what with Dakota and his stick-in-the-mud mindset, Elijah and his crybaby tendencies… Theo and her were a welcome sight to see in their little group.

A huff from the store owner. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll give them a scare soon enough. Is this seat taken?” He points at the countertop. Not waiting for a response, he hoists himself high above her and glances over the word puzzle by her hands, a smirk pulling at his features. “If I gave you three chances, I bet you wouldn’t guess what Dakota is handling right now…” his voice is low, meant just for them—he knew the store would be empty, but hushed voices were ingrained in the librarian that was too loud for his own space.

“Go ahead—make yourself comfortable.” Yet the words that tumbled from Theo’s mouth lacked the warmth typically accompanying such invitations, and the eye roll that punctuated them was further proof of that. She’d told Hal countless times not to bother her while she was working—she supposed she should be thankful that his clinginess had been kept at bay long enough for Drain to empty itself of customers before waltzing in and plopping his ass down in the space reserved for beverages. “I don’t need three guesses—I just dealt with it myself! This town is crawling with nosy camp counselors, just like every year at this time.” Theo paused, her thoughtful silence broken by the sound of her stool’s legs scraping clumsily against the hard floor as she pulled it closer. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”

He holds his hands up defensively before realisation can settle. “Yes. I was supposed to help him… but some of us have more tact than others, as he’s always telling me.” The last comment ends in an indignant grumble, annoyingly aware of his habit to be honest and jump the gun. There were too many counsellors for him not to slip up and name drop them—keenly aware of the inner-workings at Camp Evergreen, observed entirely from the treeline.

“And when you have to calm him down later, whose fault is that gonna be?” Theo raised an eyebrow accusatorially, nails clacking impatiently against the edge of the countertop.

“Maybe mine,” Hal admits with a muffled chuckle, swinging his legs. “Though… if he manages to get Lisa’s phone without being noticed by Connie and Joey,” his grin was hard not to notice as he spoke the names, far too aware of the dynamics, feeling almost as if he were a distant friend of theirs himself. “Then I might be safe for another night!”

cast:
location:
easthallow, main street

 
MOOD: Juliette (Shocked, frazzled—now nosy), Lou (Hangry.), & Harper (Amused, then annoyed. Finicky through and through.).
basics
COLLAB WITH: anyasjoy anyasjoy , spareparts spareparts
tags
TL;DR If kitchen walls could talk, they'd tell you that Juliette got a firm reminder of what being in the presence of an Evergreen feels like, and Lou didn't escape unscathed either.
tl;dr
WE'RE COOKED
juliette yorkes, harper evergreen, & lou van royen. + ft. leon macmillan!
Well, that was a freaking mess. Relief flooded Juliette’s veins as she finally reached the end of the trail, her tennis shoes stepping past the invisible threshold of camp. Last time I do something nice around here.

Blowing out a sigh, she adjusted her grip on the elastic edge of the bag, popping a hip and shifting her weight onto one leg as she took in her surroundings. The familiar sprawl of camp stretched before her, but she barely spared it a glance, already forming a quick plan—drop off her costume, stash the snacks, and be done with it.

Or at least, that was the idea.

Just as she was about to set off, movement caught her eye. A familiar figure. Oh? “Leon!” Juliette’s voice rang out, bright and eager, as she happily abandoned the others trailing towards their cabins or their last activity, she didn’t care. Picking up her pace, she closed the distance between them with confidence, stepping into his path before he could catch up with the rest, their loss.

Clutching the side of his waist with one hand, slightly winded from the jog uphill, Leon waves with a free hand at Juliette in greeting and zeroes in on the ascot around her neck, a creeping smile overtaking the pinch in his brows from the exertion. Just in time. “Juliette! Hey there.”

With a flourish, she gestured at the orange ascot wrapped snugly around her neck, tilting her chin slightly to display the choice she had gone with. “So,” she drawled, drawing out the word with slowness, eyes flickering with amusement. “What do we think?”

“Couldn’t’ve expected better from Fancy That! this last notice,” he head tilts with consideration, appreciating she’d gone out of her way to remember—his smile falters as he reaches for the ascot tied at the nape of her neck. “You’re a lifesaver, Redfield.”

“Anything for a friend, Kennedy.”

Swiftly undoing the knot, his eyes are drawn to the crowd of her head—at the blonde wisps of hair disturbed by the summer breeze—and notices the strands have been dyed down to the roots. ‘Wanting a change’ didn’t seem to cut it now, his earlier acceptance of her explanation the day seemed naive from this close. He fights off a frown as the knot yields.

“Orange suits you,” he says meaningfully with a pointed stare as he slips the ascot from around her neck. Leon taps the curve of his finger underneath her chin in a quick gesture of thanks, sincerity colours his features again, and pivots his body to face the direction she’d been walking to. “Off to the kitchen? I can take your haul for you if you’re in a rush.”

From her angle, Juliette didn’t miss the way his eyes darted around as he looked at her, his hesitation lingering in the slight waver of his smile—what’s he thinking? It didn’t take long for her to find out. Leon’s voice was genuine, so unexpectedly honest, that it completely caught her off guard, shattering the playful moment she had conjured. Her own smile faltered, slipping from the corners of her lips.

Have you thought of going blonde? Orange suits you. Which one is lying to me?

With the burning thought, his gaze was suddenly too intense, brimming with sincerity in a way that opened up more questions than answers for her. She turned her head slightly, glancing elsewhere, the urge to cross her arms over her chest creeping in—a subconscious shield. He wouldn’t get it, no one would.

“It’s…just a color,” she answered instead, her tone laced with mild defensiveness. Please don’t make me explain it.

Jumping at the chance to steer the conversation elsewhere, the newly appointed cook gave a hurried nod, the motion rushed and uncoordinated. “Yeah, gotta catch up on prepping. Just two hands—you know the drill.” She lifted one as if to prove a point, the plastic bag dangling from her weak grip as she offered it for Leon to take. “No peeking,” she added, forcing an overly sweet tone.

Not used to Juliette’s defensive tone pointed his way, Leon doesn’t allow the disappointment to show on his face—with two certain blondes missing, she must be hearing comments all around and forced to defend the change over and over. Feeling like an ass, he takes the shopping bag from her offered hand and minds her warning not to peek.

“Fine by me. I prefer surprises,” and remarkably, Leon doesn’t have to force a smile—his expression warm and understanding.

Then, almost as an afterthought, Juliette reached out and gently poked him in the center of his chest with her nail. “Hey, real quick,” she started, her mind drifting back to how rough her afternoon had been. “Love helping you out, really, but maybe ask someone else next time.” Her gaze flickered to the side, catching sight of the lingering group still hanging around in pairs. With a small bite of irritation in her voice, she muttered, “There were a lot of unexpected people that showed up last second. Warn a girl next time, Kennedy.”

Leon glances up, following her gaze to the people she’d trekked back to camp with and frowns, catching sight of all people he never expected Juliette to be at odds with. “Who is…” unexpected? His voice is quiet, distracted, and concerned. None of them raised warning bells.

Worried about how Truth or Dare might play out with Juliette’s apparent misunderstanding with ‘a lot’ of people, Leon decides to play mediator—as he does—and breaks his train of thought to nod, a decisive gesture. “Sit with me at Truth or Dare tonight, then? We all deserve to have a good time, especially you.” He ties the plastic handles of the bag into a knot for safe-keeping, chastising himself for mentioning Renee in a roundabout way, “distractions, right?”

“Right,” she mumbled, eyes flickering back to his softer gaze, guilt pooling low in her stomach. You’re frustrated with Connie, not Leon, she reminded herself sharply, exhaling as her shoulders eased with the breath. “A distraction,” she echoed, nodding slightly. “It’ll be a good night.” A quiet promise.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she managed a small smile. “Thanks for the offer—I would love that.” At least I won’t be alone.

Reminded of the Evergreen, and before she can turn down the offer, Leon snaps his fingers as he recalls, just two hands—you know the drill. I should tell her about Harper. Enthusiasm leaks into his voice, satisfied Juliette wouldn’t be horribly alone in the demanding job, “you won’t be alone in the kitchen—”

“Oh—” Juliette groaned, rubbing a hand down her face, caught between frustration and urgency. “Dammit, I gotta go. Still need to figure out what to cook—thank god for recipes.” The words tumbled out, accidentally cutting off Leon. She shot him a wide-eyed, silent apology before instinctively reaching out, fingers squeezing his—his hand still holding her belongings—a wordless thank you.

“Tonight, Truth or Dare.” A pause, then a sly tilt to her smile. “Or…maybe we’ll get lucky and end up together again for dinner.” Drawing her hand back, she softened, offering him a smile reserved just for him before hitching a thumb towards the dining hall. “Duty calls. See you later, Leon.”


“Green Giant peas and carrots. Kidney beans…?”

In spite of the wooden pantry holding plentiful ingredients, Harper stared at the options with mild distaste as well as wholehearted confusion as far as what to do—all knowledge Thomas Evergreen ever taught her about cooking left behind in the car this morning.

It was an art form that, admittedly, she never had to learn at this kind of capacity as she thought, what did a bunch of kids like to eat anyway? Palettes likely too juvenile for anything the Evergreen had a taste for, a discreet sense of hopelessness had begun its trek to the forefront of her mind, evident in the way her forehead creased at the middle, before she flicked the vulnerability away with a practiced ease.

“it’s only for two weeks. as long as it’s edible…” she muttered quietly to herself before her eyes caught packages of Barilla spaghetti noodles stacked and pushed neatly toward one pantry wall. Surveying the amount—and whether or not it’d be enough for a full house like the dining hall usually was—Harper shrugged nonchalantly and began transferring the rectangular boxes from the shelf to a nearby counter.

Making her way upstairs to the kitchen, Juliette’s mind was entirely elsewhere. Truth or Dare tonight…She could only hope it wouldn’t be too rough—though Renee’s absence would definitely be felt. A small frown tugged at her lips. Lately, she’d been thinking about a certain Evergreen far too much. With a quick shake of her head, she willed the thought away, strands of blonde hair brushing against her cheek. Adjusting the butterfly clips in her hair, she let out a quiet sigh. Dinner will be swell. You got this.

As she climbed the last few steps, the faint sounds of movement reached her ears, stirring up questions in her head. She hesitated slightly, gaze sweeping the kitchen—then halted at the sight of someone unfamiliar—dark hair, pale complexion. Really pretty.

“Oh. Hi!” Juliette’s voice lifted slightly in pitch as she stepped further into the kitchen, her smile a fraction too tight as she tried to put two and two together—maybe they’re one of the late arrivals?

Her gaze flickered towards the open cookbook on the table, then to the box of spaghetti resting beside it. Not a bad idea, she mused thoughtfully, already considering how much time she’d save by not having to flip through some pages. “Are you helping with dinner today?” She asked kindly, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her palm.

A second too late, she realized her lack of manners. Straightening, she quickly dropped her arms, her tone growing a bit more hurried. “Hope I’m not late.” With a small, apologetic smile, she added, “I think Spaghetti for tonight is a fun idea though, nice one.”

The backdoor of the kitchen hung loose, a concrete block wedged in to keep it from closing, and vaguely could Lou hear chatter—two voices, Juliette's being the only recognized. The other? He couldn’t place.

“You can just leave your baskets outside—Milo, lead 'em to the bathrooms, will you?” Lou dropped his crate by the wall, the children a blur of energy as they lined their baskets up like soldiers waiting for their next orders. He scraped the sawdust from his hands, his voice cutting through the anxious buzz. “Y'all go wash your hands an' get situated at the tables.”

Without so much of a beat, a boy no older than 8 rasped a humored, "No.", before tucking behind his friend.

With his thumbs tucked in his overall straps, the friend stepped up. By the look in his eyes, he seemed to have some sort of bone to pick with Lou. Playfully, Lou tilted his head down at the boy, "What's wrong w'you?"

"Why'd we leave everyone behind? My brother's still out there."

Lou let the words sit for a beat, the half-smirk on his face disappearing in order to more earnestly level with him, "Well, it’s not so bad. Y'get to pick where you wanna sit before anyone else gets there. Not too bad a trade for haulin’ the produce." He said it plainly, figuring it didn't matter much. All that was left to do was get ready for dinner, no reason in debating otherwise.

The boy shifted his weight, eyes narrowing in disatisfaction. But the group of kids behind him, all chatter and elbow-jabs, didn't care—already plotting where they'd sit, unconcerned with the matters of one quiet protester. Lou smiled, the kind of smile he figured was supposed to make everything okay. "Your brother'll be here soon."

Milo was already marching ahead, pointing toward the corner porch where the dining hall lay ahead. "Come on, let's go."

The kids follow, a school of fish behind Milo and the older kids. And then, as the last of them trailed off, Lou caught it—a soft mutter, "I hate tomatoes. I just want my brother..", slipping out like a discontented echo disappearing around the bend.

Lou pondered on his handling of the discussion, but it didn't matter now. Anxious, I guess. If I had a sibling, maybe I’d feel the same.

He allowed himself to lean back against the wall, eyes drifting across the campground. The sun was sinking, light pulling a slow fade from blue to a purplish-orange haze—clouds rolling in from the east, heavy and slow. Lou wondered if they'd steal the stars tonight. He pulled out his cigarette case, flicked it open and retrieved a stick by his teeth. A quick glance at the sitting tomatoes, prompted him to tuck his cigarette behind his ear. I should get these in first.

Harper only had a second to scrutinize the blonde in what appeared to be slight recognition before the creaking sound of heavy footsteps stomping steadily up the wooden stairs outside stole her attention away from the newcomer. Another one? Confusion replaced the expression she wore in response to Juliette’s appearance, and it only grew as a tall, lanky—and who she assumed—was another counselor crossed the threshold into the back kitchen with them.

It only took a second before her gaze flickered to the wood crate of bright red tomatoes that he dropped onto the counter, the unceremonious slam gauging a slight flinch from Harper before a visible frown pulled at the corner of her lips.

“Tomatoes?” The question hung in the air with the weight of uncertainty, as well as impending irritability, lingering in her tone—not in a sense of what exactly, but a ‘for who?’ The Evergreen found herself stepping closer to inspect them, a sharp eyebrow pointing upward as she pushed herself onto the balls of her feet before dropping back down. “are these even clean?”

The sound of approaching footsteps abruptly stole Juliette’s attention. She spared one last glance up at the dark raven hair before shifting her gaze towards the door, her expression flickering with surprise as Lou walked in, a crate balanced in her hands. Without a word, she watched him set it down on the counter.

At least it wasn’t Mona. Juliette wasn’t ready for another trip down memory lane—not so soon.

Straightening her posture, she peeled herself away from the counter, standing a little taller, more alert. Her palms pressed flat against the cool surface as she studied Lou with quiet curiosity. There was a sharpness in the woman’s tone directed at him, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde.

Who is this girl?

Lou didn't flinch at any sharp edge in the girl's voice, shrugging it off and giving Juliette a nod of acknowledgement. When he swung his gaze back, the dark-haired girl had finished inspecting the crate—stepping off and tossing an unsatisfied look his way only to leave a charged silence between them. Lou raised his shoulders for a moment, confused over what the problem was. What?

“You can… wash ‘em.” He offered, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, “Quick rinse an’ they’re ready.”

You can… wash ‘em. Me? A manicured hand flew up to rest across Harper’s chest, and both eyebrows had raised this time as she turned over her shoulder to acknowledge the girl behind her, expression reading, is he being serious right now? But, she didn’t give her the time to confirm before she pivoted back to the other counselor who exuded nonchalance and reeked of a grandmother’s ashtray.

Amused, Juliette couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips, lifting a hand to hide it as her eyes met the other woman’s. Her teeth caught her lower lip, fighting back a grin of her own. He’s being very serious, her gaze seemed to say, and a snort slipped free as she gestured towards the piles of tomatoes. “At least we’re ready for spaghetti tonight.”

It was one of those moments where she thought, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and thankfully, dinner wouldn’t be too complicated. “Easy peasy.”

“Fine. Whatever.” With a huff, and Evergreen venom prominent, she picked up the crate and lugged it towards the trough sink that she, unfortunately, became familiar with this morning. How the hell did Paige do this job? Harper thought, balancing the tomatoes on a raised knee before she realized her hands were too full to do anything else.

An involuntary flinch rippled through Juliette at the evident venom in the other’s choice of words. Her smile dropped immediately, an icy chill washing over her. The mannerisms... it reminded her of—Renee, she thought. Her mouth pursed into a thin line as her gaze lingered over the woman once more. Fashionable, dark hair, cutting words... maybe she’s heard of her?

“Can one of you turn this stupid thing on?” slightly flustered, the cook posed the question to either counselor, before finding herself with one last thought to verbalize for the other woman in the kitchen. Throwing her head in her direction, she complained. “Uncle Jon better be paying you 20 grand for this…”

“Thank y'ladies.” Lou muttered politely, tossing the words over his shoulder as he reached the door. He snagged the cigarette from its temporary home above his ear, and rested the door against the block once more. He shuffled off, not too far from the kitchen but far enough to avoid bothering either of the girls. The long awaited moment of bliss had arrived. Flame to his cigarette, he took a long drag. Exhaling with a scoff when he'd internalized the dark-haired girl's words again, What's her deal? Lou's eyes followed a dispersed group of bluebirds nestling themselves into the tree across from him. It'd been awhile since he'd crossed paths with someone so damn prim—finicky about something trivial, like tomatoes. They were grown inside a greenhouse for Christ's sake.

Her feet moved automatically towards the stranger, offering to help with the crate—deciding she'd help wash the tomatoes for tonight. It’s the least I could do around here. Reaching out, she started to turn on the faucet, but froze mid-motion, her hand instinctively pulling back as her attention snapped back to the woman.

Uncle Jon better be paying you 20 grand for this. “...You mean Mr. Evergreen?” Uncle?

With a tense laugh, bordering on breathless, Juliette forced herself to focus on the sink again, turning it on and embracing the drowning sound of the water as an escape.

Needing to know what she meant, she hurried out, “are you guys... family?” she asked, her gaze flicking back to the woman sharply, eyes once more drawn to the dark hair. There's no way. “Or is there some inside joke about Jonathan Evergreen that I didn’t know about?”

“‘Mr. Evergreen’ to you guys…” Harper nonchalantly corrected through a huff as she tipped the wood crate toward the trough sink, tomatoes freefalling with harmonious thuds against the metal bottom. “Uncle Jon to me. I’m his niece.” When the crate was free of extra weight, she pulled it away and set it on the floor next to them—careful not to drop it haphazardly as the other counselor did, and thankful to be free of the strenuous task.

Juliette watched as the tomatoes were harshly dropped into the sink, that’ll bruise them lingering on the tip of her tongue. But the words never made it out—she was too caught up in the moment to bother. Niece? What?

Unburdened with what she hoped was the last interruption, the raven-haired girl took the time to glance at the other cook, shamelessly sparing her a once-over—pretty, blonde hair, cherubic features, bright eyes. If Harper hadn’t known any better, she could have been mistaken for family; for Renee. Briefly startled at the comparison, the bloodline chose to change the subject.

“Missed you this morning after breakfast, by the way.” Harper could criticize the girl now that she was here to hear it, but that was beating a dead horse she already had enough of. “Leon told me I’d be working with a Juliette, but you were gone by the time I showed up.”

“Shopping. Easthallow.” The words tumbled out, short, unsure, jumbled into one before walking away. Under the weight of the scrutiny, as if she was being inspected under a magnifying glass, Juliette swallowed and flicked her gaze back to the recipe book, pretending to be absorbed in flipping through the pages. But her mind wouldn’t let it go—I’m his niece. I’m his niece. I’m his niec—but you’re not blonde?

Juliette’s more reclusive demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Harper, eyes now slightly narrowed and aimed at the back of her head of blonde hair as she offered little to nothing about her trip detour. Taking her retreat as an attempt to wave the topic away, the bloodline found herself mimicking the curt response internally, letting a quiet scoff escape under the sound of the cookbook’s pages flipping. Shopping. Easthallow—It’s like talking to a wall, she nearly chided until Juliette continued.

She tapped her fingers against a page, eyes scanning quickly. “Had to pick up something for tonight. Is spaghetti still good?” Olive oil, oregano, tomato sauce, garlic, salt, parmesan cheese, pepper, and noodles—it seemed simple enough. With a slap of her palm against the counter, she pivoted towards the cabinet, pulling out the needed ingredients.

“Hm.” If they don’t want to starve, it will be.

It was all Harper offered in response to the cook’s attempt at confirmation, though the lack of criticism or effort to stop her from gathering the necessary ingredients from the cabinet was an answer from her in itself.

True to her nature—and unable to help herself—she bit out, “A niece, huh. Wow.” A laugh followed, pitched and wavering, hands pooling with spices before she plopped them onto the counter. Blue eyes once again hyper focused on the dark hair, fixating.

“Yeah.” Harper mirrored the other girl’s laugh, though there was an existing edge to it, too focused on analyzing the girl entirely.

Maybe that’s just how she is, the Evergreen mused, noting the undertones of uncertainty and—was that anxiety?—radiating from Juliette with the subtlety comparable to the elephant that now seemed to wedge itself between them. The way she responded and how she used the bountiful ingredients occupying her arms like an anchor—it’s as if she was afraid to interrupt the air.

“Since you know my name, what’s yours?” A beat. “The other one who was here—” she waved towards the stairs where he had disappeared—“his name is Lou.”

“It’s Harper.” She responded simply, the feigning interest in the other counselor—Lou, was it?—had dissipated with him. Another thought had been fighting its way to the surface as she leaned against the counter. Where’s the energy, the feistiness, the dominance? She doesn’t act like a—

“You know there’s a girl calling you Yorkie, right? Is that like—” she stifled a laugh, though that hardly did anything to mask the amused smile that curled at her lips. “—really your nickname?”

Harper. The name rolled off the woman’s tongue with such indifference, as if Juliette should have already known—as if it were obvious. She’s so much like Renee— but she clenched her jaw, refusing to let that thought take root.

Renee had never been one to talk openly about her family. If she had a cousin, especially one like this, wouldn’t she have mentioned her? The timing, the sudden arrival, it all felt off. Suspicion tightened in the techie’s gut, but she forced herself to play along.

Sucking her teeth, she silently willed the evening to move faster, hoping the weight of the moment would pass. Her fingers traced the pages of the open book in front of her, following the instructions while moving around, all while keeping Harper in her peripheral vision—who was leaning against a counter, claiming her space.

Maybe she really is an Evergreen. The cool metal of the pot pressed against her fingertips as she pulled it from its place before carrying it to the sink, turning the faucet on with a practiced flick, watching as the water gushed forward, filling the empty space with a steady hum, until—You know there’s a girl calling you Yorkie, right?

“What?” A loud, jarring scratch echoed in her mind, the thought cutting off abruptly as Juliette dropped the pot in her hands, spinning on her heel. Her eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed, the disgust clearly evident on her face. “No.”

Her brows furrowed in annoyance, a flicker of anger rising as she cast a sharp, almost dangerous glare in Harper’s direction. Her skin prickled, who’s spreading that?

“It’s not. Just some sick joke.” The words left her mouth like a hurried, her expression twisted in a battle between frowning in disbelief, openly giving her a dirty look, or pretending she was unaffected. Yeah, right. She was far from calming down. “Who’s—Is anyone else talking about that?” The words slipped out with an edge of panic, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of it all. God, did Renee talk about me? Did Leon say that?

Uh-oh… Wholeheartedly amused, Harper’s features melted into a slight frown, feigning faux concern before the attempt expired—God, I can’t even fake it. Seeking entertainment since the morning had been like grasping at straws, nobody giving her the time of day, except one counselor: Billie was anything but boring. This display of exasperation, however—evident in the steam seeping out of Juliette’s ears—had been telling enough.

Harper had only begun to pry, and she managed to knock a whole barrier down. Through an unwavering smirk, the Evergreen had an admission to stirring the boiling pot with waiting at the tip of her tongue, until the door creaked again.

Between the low humming cicadas and muffled chit-chat from the girls inside, the simple sounds put him at ease. The day's dying light allowed the air to cool and Lou let the peaceful atmosphere wash over him, solitude that he took in stride. Though not absent of strange circumstance, today had unfolded like a road he'd wandered down once before. He figured his decision to come back wasn't as unstable as he anticipated. The kids were decent and generally, no one gave him any problems with him being here—save Rowan, but that was unavoidable for him and he knew that come into this. Most of all, Mona was back and all was well between them, like he'd hoped it'd be. Lou wondered where she was now, what she was doing in that moment. As his cigarette burned down and he paced, a thought blooming, only to be snuffed out in the next beat—his name mentioned some where in the kitchen buzz. Curious, he leaned in to let the murmurs clarify.

“—Harper.”

Where had he heard that name before? He took the last drag, inhaling deeply, his fingers tracing the cigarette, the ember flaring red before he flicked it away. His mind stuttered—Harper—and searched for the answer to his puzzling familiarity. Then the flash of Paige, her arms wrapped tight around her scraped knees, her body half-submerged by the water, staring out, as if waiting for something. Lou could hear her voice—sharp, a little tired. She rolled her eyes at him playfully, “Harper, she’s family. Anyways, it’s just so sad that...” The rest of her words, like a radio cutting out, blurred into white noise, and Lou tilted his head, trying to reel in the fragments, but they slipped from his grip, only looping back to the same blurry images. A question he'd asked her? What was it? The question gnawed at him, but the answer wouldn’t come. Damn. It felt like trying to catch smoke in his hands, futile and fleeting as ever.

He shook his head in disappointment, taking his time to stuff the cigarette butt into the box to dispose of later for one last attempt at recovering memory. Involuntary memories of Paige had a way of dampening the mood, shifting his perspective right atop some cliff to coax him into falling down the rabbit hole.

Just then, there was tension now, something simmering beneath Juliette’s tone, sharp, defensive. Lou could almost feel the anxiety hanging in the air, thick and prickly, like static before a storm. He glanced at his watch, the dim light from the gap in the door casting shadows. I'll just see what I can do for 'em. Lou moved toward the door, holding the weight as he stood in the door way—sheepishly now, "Hey." A beat that'd fully interrupted their back and forth. "I can help with dinner, don't have anythin' else to do.. so,"

Lou. The raven-haired cook had assumed the other counselor made himself scarce, telling in the way her eyes widened slightly at his reappearance in the back kitchen. But then he made an offer that Harper had the sense not to wave off. I can help with dinner—“Good. Maybe you can fill that pot up with water and set it on the stove for us.” Pushing herself off the counter, she pointed a french-tipped nail towards the sink where the water had been missing the metal appliance entirely. “Think all that shopping in town might’ve turned Juliette into a klutz.”

Tossing a smile over toward the other cook, she abandoned her position next to the counter in favor of an empty space next to Juliette. “Dinner’s spaghetti, by the way.” After throwing one last line toward the farmer, Harper refocused her attention with a look that showed she was ready to tell all.

Juliette swallowed hard, her back pressing against the sink as Harper gestured towards it, the sound of the running water barely registering in her ears. Bitch.

Without a word, the blonde abandoned the sink, leaving it for Lou to deal with instead. She made her way to a different counter, jaw tight, deciding she might as well start chopping up the tomatoes while Little Miss Evergreen lounged around.

“Anyway…” —is anyone else talking about that? “does a little birdie named Annie ring any bells? Also blonde, about our height—” Peering at the same cookbook that her disgruntled co-worker often referenced, Harper’s gossip-monging reverie briefly broke at the extra work it took to make sauce from scratch.

Ugh, this sounds messy. Cooking would have killed her mood had it not been for Juliette’s dirty expression to remind her of the entertainment she still had right at her fingertips to utilize. So, the bloodline picked up where she left off on describing Annie while unhurriedly working in hopes that the distraction would make the evening shorter.

“—also, like…a fucking diva, actually.” The amusement written on Harper’s face had only seemed to grow while she recounted the moment Shiloh had to run after her to do, or say, only God cared to know. She didn’t. “She stormed out of the kitchen like a total baby. Which is actually rich coming from somebody who basically called you a lapdog.”

Lou moved into the kitchen, carefully fitting the large cast iron under the faucet and hoisted it out of the sink to place it on the stovetop. He only acknowledged with a nod when she'd confirmed what they'd be cooking. No words, only a brief dip of his head. Spaghetti—figures. The burner lit with a flick and he adjusted the pot accordingly. With his back turned to the both of them, he stifled a scoff before it escaped his throat. This girl's cruel, he thought—like Renee.

Annie? The blonde scoffed audibly, her hand moving to dry the tomatoes before chopping, her motions hurried and uncoordinated. They were damp beneath her fingers, slick with water and the faint scent of soil. Juliette wiped down one, watching the way the water beaded and rolled off its skin. Simple, easy—pick up a tomato, pat it dry, set it down. Over and over. She worked on autopilot, her mind a tangled mess, her head heavy—like something was pressing down on it. At least it wasn’t Leon.

Why was Annie talking about her anyway? Her gaze landed on a particular tomato. It was too bright, unnaturally red, almost out of place among the duller ones scattered across the cutting board. Shouldn’t Annie be more concerned about her own problems? It wasn’t like Juliette was telling everyone about—

She blinked, and the scene jumped.

The tomatoes were still there—red, ripe, waiting—but now her fingers were curled around something cold and sharp. When…? The thought barely registered, slipping through her mind like water through cupped hands. Juliette stared at the blade, watching how the light caught its edge.

The kitchen smelled the same as always—earthy, a little like spice—curious, she pressed the tip of the knife against the wooden cutting board, just to see if it would feel solid. It did. But so did the tomatoes. And the counter. And the damp towel she had set aside earlier.

Whatever. Inwardly shrugging, and oblivious to the silence that had stretched longer than intended, she carried on. “Diva would be a compliment to her.” The knife cut through the first tomato, its juices pooling slightly on the board. “Think… more like a leech, instead.” Maybe she’d prompt Harper to crush them later. We’re basically doing all the work. “Did any more new people show up today?”

A leech, huh…? Letting her own few beats of silence pass as she reveled in the results of her handiwork, Harper nodded slowly at Juliette’s dig towards Annie, internally filing the reaction away for another time. They must know each other a lot more than I thought. It was an assumption that she was confident there had been some level of truth to, and the other woman’s reaction was evident enough to prove that theory.

She was used to pettier insults when it came to pointless arguments or her regular drama. Leech, however, held a different weight to it. It wasn’t a throwaway jab—it carried an accusatory tone, a deeper implication poorly disguised for less than what it meant. And, nobody had grown more experienced with flicking them off better than an Evergreen.

The finalization laced in Juliette’s tone, however, told Harper that she’d only be left to theorize. For now.

“Nobody worth remembering. Except for a couple of close friends.” Noticing the pile of quartered tomatoes growing significantly larger on the techie’s cutting board, Harper chose to give in and lighten the load, refusing the idea of fucking up on her first day back to camp. Striding by the oven, she preheated it as directed by the cookbook—400°—before grabbing a spare baking sheet from its designated area.

“And…someone new in Medbay, I guess?” Between navigating her way back toward the countertop to transfer the tomatoes on the metal sheet and trying to recall all of this morning’s conversation in the kitchen, Harper’s memory had become unreliable—every conversation she had throughout the day becoming a mess she couldn’t untangle with a preoccupied mind. “You can rule out Shiloh Twine though. That, I can remember.”

Close friends? With her back still to Harper, Juliette vaguely registered the other counselor moving around the kitchen. Curious, the techie tossed a glance over her shoulder and caught sight of her turning on the oven. Now she’s helping.

...But friends? She must have been a camper.

Worried about the time and how long dinner would take, the blonde quickly grabbed the salt and made her way towards the stove, handing it to Lou. “It’ll help boil the water quicker.” With that, and wanting to keep the interaction short since she didn’t know where she stood with Lou, she returned to peeling the garlic—fingertips quickly turning sticky. It wasn’t until Harper continued speaking that she paused mid action, her attention now drawn to the darker haired Evergreen.

“Medbay?” she repeated, squinting slightly as she tried to recall. A moment later, a memory surfaced, and she snapped her fingers. “Oh, we were told—well, given a heads up—that counselors are going to, um, interact with a therapist this session.” She shrugged, reaching for the knife once more and resuming the task of dicing garlic—her gaze flickering between the cutting board and the recipe book.

“Trauma, grief. Can’t be so bad, right?”

Lou leaned against the counter with his hands in pockets, feeling in no rush to join in their gossip—much less actively spectate. The water in the pot bubbled at the edge, slowly, and Lou hovered his palm above it to feel the heat. A moment more and it'd be ready. Names and information danced through their conversation and despite feeling rather indifferent to it, he couldn't altogether avoid what peaked his interest. Shiloh? What the hell..

It’d been nearly a decade since he’d seen the Twine, always smiley-faced and challenging—ruffling his blonde head of hair every chance he got before daring him to participate in whatever antics the other guys were getting into during camp free time. Fond memories, mostly all of them safe for the handful of times the older boy had to break up any fight between himself and Rowan. Those days thrived in high energy, alive with the kind of chaos that made even a kid as shy as himself laugh so hard the pains in his sides radiated for whole minutes afterwards. Lou looked up when the cook crossed the room, accepting the salt shaker—eyes on the bleach blonde hair swaying behind her for a moment longer, Juliette’s gaze absent from even properly meeting his own. Now close enough to assess the new change, she barely looked even remnant of how he remembered her. Not much to remember anyways.

…Can’t believe they dated.

Idly, Lou generously added salt with the shaker upside down. —Therapist? He tried to recollect where in the morning announcements that’d been brought up, or if he’d missed it in an email or something. He was really bad at checking those. “Liv’s back?” —Oh.. Lou raised the salt shaker up, peering down at the salt pooling at the bottom of the pot. Well, that’s how I like it. He set the shaker aside, hearing the pot boil now and reaching for the bunches of noodles sitting on the unused cutting board.

Harper had grown used to the silence that Lou allowed himself to drown in, present but consumed in the share of the work he had graciously taken off both cook’s shoulders. So, at the sound of his voice, the raven-haired woman’s attention flicked up instantly—attention undivided for the man who seemed to have so little to say. Liv’s back? “Both Twines are.”

Repulsion crossed Harper’s features when she eyed the tomatoes now—the unwelcomed thought of her hands being dampened by the slimy texture of its seed-ridden pulp causing her hands to hover slightly over the diced fruit. Ugh. But then, Trauma, grief. Can’t be so bad, right? She took advantage of the distraction and proceeded with scooping them onto the sheet. “Been there, done that. Shrinks are a waste of time.”

Ms. Evergreen, what you’re experiencing is the anger stage of grief—

—Is that all the bullshit it took to say to get you this fancy office?

The treacherous memory of a man sitting across from her in all his authoritative glory resurfaced, immediately boiling the blood that ran through Harper’s veins. What did he know, anyway? Renee and Paige weren’t dead, there was no need to grieve over them. A frown threatened to curl the corners of her lips at the next question that floated to the forefront of her mind. Why did Uncle Jon hire a therapist anyway? He can’t really think that they’re—

Lou titled his jaw, She’s not wrong. He’d been through his fair share of government-employed therapists—the bottom of the barrel. No surprise even the rich kids came away dissatisfied. He took the ladle, stirring the noodles accordingly—to keep the heat distribution consistent. The motion brought him back to his mom at dinner time, working tirelessly to feed the three of them—sometimes more if the neighborhood kids needed taking care of. Somehow she managed everything perfectly even when the mood in the house was anything but. Weirdly enough, a part of him felt the urge to pitch in with the other tasks. Lou slid over to a spare cutting board where the herbs were waiting, and without hesitation, he took it upon himself to chop them finely, moving with a quiet focus. This is kind of relaxing...

Okay, so—add olive oil, medium heat, diced garlic, stir constantly—should be easy.

Juliette nodded to herself, locking onto the instructions in the booklet as she moved towards a different spare stove, the pan already heating, waiting for the oil. She kept her head down, sticking to her lane, figuring that was the best course of action. No need to make this more awkward than it already was, especially between two blondes. Assuming Lou wanted nothing to do with her—because, well…Mona—she bit back a sigh, twisting her mouth to the side, her lips pursing without meaning to.

But then, a sharpness in Harper’s voice cut through the kitchen, laced with brimming annoyance, and Juliette’s curiosity flared. Did that strike a nerve? She couldn’t help herself—she turned her head to the darker haired Evergreen, eyes gleaming with something just short of mischief. Is that where she’s been this entire damn time?

“There was a nice cop in Easthallow that suggested I should see one.” Her voice was casual, almost offhanded, but there was a deliberate weight behind the words. Tossing in a little white lie for good measure, she added, “He wasn’t so bad. Must have had a shitty one.”

On the cusp of infuriation, the bloodline didn’t allow the other woman’s response to simmer for more than a second, quickly retorting with, “they’re all shitty, Juliette.”

Harper’s grip on the baking sheet still laying in front of her tightened until her knuckles blanched, the tension locking up her arms, her shoulders—her entire body. The words rattled around her skull unwelcomingly, prodding at something raw; something that never properly healed. He wasn’t so bad. Yeah, right. Like that was a thing. Like she hadn’t sat in the same office for months, watching a man in tweed blazers scrutinize her and scribble in his little notebook, pretending like he had her figured out.

A short, humorless huff left her lips as she tossed the last of the tomatoes onto the sheet, the wet smack grating against her nerves. “Guess some people will believe anything if a suit and tie talks with enough confidence though.” She flicked a glance at Juliette now, brow arching slightly before she retrieved a clean towel and began wiping the juice off her hands.

What did she need a shrink for anyway?

The Evergreen could feel her pulse tick violently at the side of her neck as she grabbed a spare olive oil, twisting the cap off with a little too much force. The liquid flowed in a golden ribbon over the fruit as she tilted the bottle, pooling in the crevices between them. She made sure none went without before reaching for the salt and pepper shakers next, her movements sharp, almost mechanical.

Once satisfied, Harper exhaled, steadying herself while her mind formed a new theory she hadn’t yet considered until now. …Was she friendly with them? She hadn’t been there when the camp was swarmed with flashing lights and Easthallow Police Department badges, and campers and counselors alike were—without a doubt—still reeling from the sudden news, but therapy? Why else would Juliette need it?

“And some therapists will say anything for a quick dime and someone’s time.” Meeting Harper’s gaze, Juliette refused to look away, lifting a brow in return before finally turning off the stove. She cast the pan aside, waiting for the roasted tomatoes and the cooked pasta to be ready.

“Then again—” Deciding at the last second that they’d need more garlic with the amount of mouths to feed, she bent by the hob to retrieve two more pans—repeating the process. Willing her attention to focus solely on the cooking, it couldn’t help but wander to a certain Evergreen—how did Paige do this all on her own?

Juliette’s grip on the handle tightened. “It helps,” she continued on, glancing in Harper’s direction, “when said people are honest and acknowledge there’s a problem.”

Wanting to appear more invested in the Evergreen rather than prying too much—metaphorically stepping on Harper’s toes—Juliette tilted her head slightly, offering a casual curiosity. “Where are you from, anyways? Aren’t you a little far from home?”

The oven door groaned as Harper pulled it open, overwhelming heat curling into the air and sticking against the skin of her face. And, with a final push, she sent the baking tray to roast before stepping back and closing it, rubbing her hands against the side of her jeans as if to shake off the tension coiling beneath her skin. Where are you from, anyways? Finally, something less emo.

“Santa Barbara,” she started casually, allowing herself to lean against the countertop now that the tedious part of the recipe had passed. In truth, however, Southern California would have been the better answer.

The aftermath of her parent’s nasty divorce was having two houses to live in when only one of them felt like home, and despite being of age to decide when the end of that was near, the ragdolling never stopped, and her mother never knew when the competition was over—far too caught up in the goal of trying to beat her husband to first place when physicality would be the only remnants that bonded Esmé with her daughter in the end.

A card Harper kept close to her chest, however, she preferred to adopt the picturesque qualities of her family name, rather than wither in the chagrin of not even what money couldn’t buy.

Gathering all of her hair to rest on one shoulder, she kept her gaze on Juliette—the first one not laced with venom toward the blonde woman—as she answered with a nonchalant shrug. “You get used to the 14-hour drive when you’ve been making the same trip since 1989, though.” This was home.

“Must really love this place.”

I did... “Of course, I do.”

Juliette let the words hang in the air, keeping her tone neutral, but her mind was running a mile a minute. Santa Barbara—not exactly in the Evergreens’ backyard. Huh.

She stirred the sizzling garlic, olive oil, and onions, the scent rising up and filling the kitchen. There was so much more she wanted to ask. Why did you come back? What’s it like, being an Evergreen? What’s your real issue with therapy? Everyone has a favorite cousin—who was yours?

Biting her tongue, she willed the temptation away, remembering one of the many lessons Renee had drilled into her—don’t be so obvious.

“For some people, therapy’s about the peace’a mind it gives ‘em.” Lou couldn’t resist adding his two cents. “Kinda like religion, but more personal, I guess. Not everyone has somebody t’ talk to.” Maybe, in his experience, shrinks did little to ease his mind, but after all the years spent bouncing from doctor to doctor, it made sense why people kept them around. Scarce as it was, there were days he had no one, and just talking it out with somebody—anybody—did a little good. He hated to admit it, but therapy only worked if someone actually wanted to be fixed. Otherwise, it was just a con and a bore. Liv, though—she seemed to care a great deal about the profession. The last time she’d seen her, she’d just finished some program—he couldn’t recall it now—but he remembered how passionate she was and how he thought for a moment that if every therapist felt the same sort of inspiration maybe people like him had a chance after all.

Well, fuck. I gotta warn Nic before dinner.

The time he’d run into her at the tiny corner café in Seattle, Liv had seemed a little bothered by Lou’s mention of Nic. Not in a way that was overtly negative, just... a little sad, maybe. He’d hoped it might help with the situation—his good friend still dejected over the break-up—but it didn’t seem to spark anything. By the time Lou was back in Easthallow, Nic hadn’t mentioned a word about Liv—something he would’ve been revved to spill on every detail. If her return surprised Lou, surely Nic would be floored to know. He couldn’t tell if it was for better or worse.

Casually listening to Lou’s little additional note, Juliette grabbed a strainer while making her way towards him and gestured at the clock up above. Time’s ticking away, chop chop.

Returning to her side of the kitchen, she shuffled the pans, letting the garlic cook as the scent filled the air. We’re almost done, thank god.

And with the time passing, she realized she needed a distraction, and before she could stop herself, she asked, “you ever think about that?” She glanced between them, voice light but laced with interest. “Where the line is? Between someone who can change and someone who never will?”

Oh, for God’s s—

The Evergreen sharply exhaled as the sentimentality trapped her in place again, and she found herself pivoting away from Juliette in favor of the three more minutes displayed on the oven’s digital clock. Kitchens seemed to harbor an innate power of getting people wanting to speak; of coaxing confessions off their tongues as if the walls could absorb it with the promise of eternal safety.

But Harper wasn’t one of those people and didn’t intend to be. The kitchen’s comfortability barely brushed her, and no amount of its cozy ambience could pry the words out from where she had buried them. If anything, she found the air too thick, the quiet that lingered between the three of them too expectant—like it was waiting for something she had no intentions of giving up.

One more minute.

The raven-haired girl swiped the tacky-colored oven mitts from the countertop, preparing herself from the oven’s unbearable heatwave once more.

The conversation drifted into softer territory, a place Lou hadn’t planned to land with his last words. Between someone who can change.. and someone who never will. His left hand clutched the heavy cast iron, tilting it to pour the contents into the strainer properly—How the hell were they going to do this, hands at either side? Separate batches? With a small grunt he answered Juliette, "Well, we all have free will." Lou set the cast iron into the deep set sink and tossed the noodles in the strainer, tossing the contents a few times over until they seemed dry enough to enter the sauce pot. "No one's stuck unless they choose to be." Most of time—No, all the time. He continued implicitly, his face unchanged despite his own self-criticizing, "Reckon that's the biggest difference." He returned with the pot and a clean rag to the countertop closest to the blonde, placing it under the rag.

Vexed, Harper’s eyes rolled until she saw the back of her skull, and she barely gave the oven time to blurt the final ding before yanking the door open, immediately recoiling at the blast of heat. Shoving her mitt-covered hands forward, she grabbed the baking dish a little rougher than necessary—letting the sound of sizzling, aromatic tomatoes crack the weight the conversation held.

“No.” she interjected flatly after Lou, letting the dish rest on top of two unused stove burners with a firm clink. “And I mean no as in—no, I never thought about that. Maybe we can table the existential crisis until after dinner.” Ripping the mitts off her hands, Harper threw them on the counter with an air of offense, before fixing them both with an insincere smile. “Or, you know, never.”

Letting the cooked concoction cool off, Harper disappeared to retrieve two blenders before returning with an expectant look for Juliette—what’s next in the recipe?

Um…we were just talking about free will? Juliette raised a brow, a slight furrow forming at Harper’s flat tone. It was clear she wanted to brush the conversation aside—until their eyes met. Oh. “Right, um—”

Without another word, she moved swiftly in her white tennis shoes, heading towards the counter with the book. Flipping to the next page of the recipe, she scanned the new instructions. Casting a look to the side, it landed on the two blenders in the bloodline’s hands. Turning her attention back to the book, the techie scanned the page, eyes squinting as she searched for the word blender.

“Place tomatoes, onions, and garlic in the blender. Blend until smooth.” Taking that as her cue, she moved towards her working station, hands automatically reaching for the pans. A quiet grunt escaped her as she lifted them, the weight pressing into her palms before she carefully set one beside Harper. Grabbing the nearest blender, she removed the lid and gently with a spoon scooped in the onions and garlic, now waiting for the roasted tomatoes.

Lou met her gaze for a moment before returning to section out the fresh herbs atop the cutting board, the faintest hint of chafe when he retorted back, "The question's not even that introspective." A sly, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and before he could think better of it, the words slipped out with a biting lilt, “Not your taste in conversation, I guess.”

Pausing mid-step, Harper’s fingers tightened around the handles of her blender, the farmer’s words landing light, but with just enough edge to make her bristle. Cute.

Without missing a beat, she spun on her heel, and a slow, saccharine smile spread across her face as she glanced up from his task to speak—even if it was to the side of his pale features. “I love a good think piece.” she shot back, voice dripping in mock sweetness. “I just prefer mine without the bumper sticker wisdom.”

The verbal chastise wasn’t enough to satisfy her, however, and before Lou could react, she reached out and swiped the edge of her hand straight through his meticulously prepped sections, sending flecks of green scattering across the counter.

“Whoops,” she said, feigning disappointment as she dusted off her palm. “All that insight, and yet your free will couldn’t stop that from happening.”

Lou stood unmoved, watching the herbs scatter across the floor in some slow-motion disaster. His jaw tightened, only sign of his irritation and mild disbelief the girl lost her composure to subject him to a petty skirmish that wasn't even worth half the trouble. She'd only set them back about a few minutes tops—a pointless show of arrogance.

The sound of a faint scoff slipped from his smirking face as he knelt to the floor with a spare rag collected from a counter ring above him, wiping the contents up like it meant nothing and trying his hardest to exercise restraint for the sake of what little time they had left before dinner. "Guess not." Lou muttered, his tone flat, figuring maybe biting the bullet was a more favorable response. People like her weren't worth the fight anyways.

Figuring this was as good a time as any to turn on the blender, Juliette let the harsh whirring fill the air. She watched with an unamused expression, one hand resting on her hip while the other kept the cover firmly in place, refusing to ruin her pretty pink top.

“Seriously?” Her voice held an edge, directed at both of them, though her gaze narrowed sharply at Harper as she clicked the red button to shut off the blender. The mixture inside swirled into a pink, frothy concoction. At the sight of her favorite color, the blonde’s lips quirked into a faint smile before she quipped, “It’s supposed to look like a milkshake, apparently. Now we bring it to a simmer in another pot…Not it for the dishes.”

She pulled a face at the idea of handling the dirty work, then grabbed another rag, wiping down the countertop while Lou focused intently on the floor. Bullying was a touchy subject for her, and she couldn’t help but notice Harper’s quick reaction. “Thought you wanted dinner to be done. What gives?” She scoffed out, the intent clear—I don’t want to be here any longer than you do.

“It’s fine, I got it.” Lou responded plainly, scooping the rest before turning to dispose the tainted herbs into the green food waste bin beside the door. He walked right past Harper towards the sink to wash his hands. Then, wordlessly, he returned to his station, grabbed a few handfuls of oregano, parsley, and basil, and began to chop them up again.

What little respect Lou had for the evergreen had already walked out the door, and there was no point in giving her more reason to inflate her ego. Like he had stated before, Lou had nothing better to do—he chose to volunteer his effort, and that was on him. He didn't expect any sympathy from Juliette, and admittedly, it was better if she didn't bother with the subject. He was going to stay and see it through anyhow. Lou had no interest in playing whatever game Harper wanted to play. There wasn't any need to keep a good front for an Evergreen—he did enough of that with Renee for the sake of Paige.

But Paige was gone now and Harper was just any another person.

Leaving Juliette and Lou to clean up her mess, Harper returned to the counter and picked up where she left off, uncapping the blender in preparation to follow the instructions freshly engrained in her memory.

Blend until smooth. Easy. Like Juliette, the dark-haired woman involuntarily mimicked her huff when she picked up the pan and began scooping the tomatoes, onions, and garlic to ready the second batch of sauce. And, only after she pushed the cap onto the blender and set the appliance into an obnoxious whir did she return her attention to the others in the kitchen.

Shrugging, she answered, unapologetically. “Cooking’s messy.” And if the farmer knew what was good for him—“maybe next time he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut.” When the mixture inside the blender resembled the other, pink and frothy, Harper clicked the button off—faint traces of a satisfied smile lingering against her face—before readying them to transfer to the stove. “Now, if you don’t want to clean up another one…” Heads up.

The rest of the warning was communicated through one spared look at the two before she brought them both to the stove, set them nearby, and turned on two burners.

Lou didn't even flinch when Harper mentioned him, a low gaze fixed on the knife in his hands, movements steady but quick, the rush in his pace more out of haste than habit. Naturally he considered himself a patient person, but the girl didn't give him anything to work with. The biting sarcasm in her tone was starting to get on his nerves, as did the awkwardly inharmonic atmosphere growing in the kitchen.

He didn’t bother with the precision of sectioning the herbs out like he had before. Instead, he set the knife down with a soft clink and reached for his box of Marlboro reds. Moving around the girls, he tucked it between his teeth, "Out t’smoke, be back t'serve the tables."—words barely leaving his mouth as he shut the door behind him with a quiet thud.

Outside, he flipped a hard plastic bin over and sat with his back against the wall, cigarette in hand. Mouth on that girl could give Renee a run for her money.

Take your time. The remnants of vexation warped the sentiment into insincereity as Harper kept her gaze on the pans, uncaring of whether or not the farmer came back in spite of his reassurance otherwise.

Juliette flinched, fingers tightening around the rag at the sharpness of the comment, as if it had been meant for her. Her gaze flickered to Lou’s retreating figure—wait, don’t leave me alone with her? But the thought was fruitless. Lou was already gone, a runaway true to form.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she shoved down the unease and made her way towards Harper’s side, choosing to focus on the pots simmering on the burner. “Pretty cool, right?” she offered, tilting her head to the side with a small smile, hoping to shift the mood. “It’s because of the heat—it intensifies the color, thickens the sauce, changes the hue…” Her words faltered, trailing off into nothing as she caught herself rambling. Um, ew? You’re not like that anymore.

With a forced laugh, she dropped her hand from the pan and spun on her heel, moving towards the strained noodles. She emptied them into another pot, then pointed at it with a nail, glancing at Harper. “Once the sauce is ready, just toss it in,” she instructed, before heading to the cart. “Should be ready any time now.”

Exhaling slow and quietly, Harper felt the tension in her shoulders ease now that she was mostly alone—aside from her timid co-worker, who only reinforced the solitude with the way Juliette had danced around her throughout their time in the back kitchen. Her fingers, which were now curled around a serving spoon, eased their grip as she turned her attention on stirring the sauce. It smelled rich, tangy, and pungent of garlic—a distraction she welcomed.

She let Juliette’s words settle, the attempt at lightening the mood not lost. Pretty cool, right? Sure…

There had been a flicker of genuinity in how the techie explained the inner workings of food, even if it crumbled under the weight of—uncertainty? Harper caught herself watching as Juliette’s spark came and went, dying as she busied herself with the pasta instead.

“I guess so.” she admitted finally, severing the silence that built between them, voice quieter, more even. It was the closest thing to an olive branch she was willing to offer, but when another thought prodded against her mind—did she work with Paige in here?

“How long have you had this job?” The bloodline inquired while refocusing her attention to the stove. Positive that the sauce was heated enough, she turned off the burners and began transferring them to the pasta one by one. “Sounds like you know your way around the kitchen. Or, chemistry.”

Dragging the cart towards the stove, Juliette quickly grabbed additional trays, setting them out as Harper mixed everything together. The aroma was sweet and inviting—hopefully, everyone would like it. Meatless was a choice, but she couldn’t help but be curious to taste the meal for herself. Can’t be so bad.

A wheel caught the edge of the counter, jolting the cart slightly, just as Harper’s question caught her off guard—How long have you had this job? “Oh…this is my first time. Being a cook, I mean.” Or chemistry.

Juliette didn’t respond right away, instead moving the other pan and mirroring the Evergreen’s motions—pouring the sauce over the pasta and giving it a generous stir. A thought struck her late, letting her gaze flicker to the cutting board, where Lou’s neatly chopped herbs sat untouched. I should—

With a nod to herself, she swept the herbs into her cupped hand and made her way to the cart, sprinkling them over the spaghetti. Surprisingly, the dish looked…appetizing?

“Science is connected to almost everything,” she mumbled, finally returning to the conversation. “Used to be a lifeguard, but thanks for the compliment.” She flashed a tight smile before rubbing her hands together as if dusting them off—just as the sound of rushing footsteps met her ears. Right on time.

With a wave of her hand at the cart, now lined with five fully prepared trays, the techie fiddled with her fingers, relief settling in. Only have to walk out now. “We’re ready?”
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)

Similar threads

Lyca
Fantasy Fortune Hills - RP(IC)
humans supernatural town
Replies
0
Views
58
Lyca
Lyca
neverlandeds
Realistic or Modern ( * MELODY HILL / IC.
farming rpg slice of life
Replies
3
Views
150
Inkage
Inkage
Tub2
Futuristic ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴɪᴏɴ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ || ʟᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴀɢᴇ
action adventure cyberpunk
Replies
5
Views
190
Tub2
Tub2
Tub2
Futuristic ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴɪᴏɴ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ.. ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ.
action adventure futuristic
Replies
0
Views
63
Tub2
Tub2
2amSnow
Realistic or Modern ⋆⭒˚.⋆♫⋆Banded Together IC⋆♫⋆.˚⭒⋆
band bandmates best friends
Replies
6
Views
217
2amSnow
2amSnow
Back
Top