Chapter Text
Ray Garraty didn’t plan on becoming a camp counselor, but at the end of summer he would be going off to college, and he needed all the money he could get. So now here he was, sitting in his mothers beat up car, listening to the steady hum and occasional stutter coming from the running engine. His eyes were beginning to droop; the drive had taken so long that the sun had already begun to set, but they snapped back open again when they passed a large wooden sign that read, “Welcome to Walker Summercamp.” He would be here for about 8 weeks, two weeks of training for the new counselors, and then 6 weeks of actual counseling when the campers arrived. Ray felt slightly sick to his stomach as the camp came into view. Directly in front of their car was the mess hall, a big log cabin that looked like something out of a Stephen King adaptation because of the way it cast a shadow across the lawn as the sun lowered in the sky behind it. The counselors who had already arrived gathered in groups on the grass, talking. Maybe this won’t be so bad. He tried convincing himself. Maybe I’ll even make a couple of friends.
“Be a good boy, Ray, alright?” She said, putting her hand on his shoulder, drawing his nervous gaze away from the other counselors in training and back towards her.
“I will.” He nodded, his thumb gently tracing over the stitching of his dad's old baseball, hidden away in the pocket of his jacket.
“Call me if you need anything, okay?”
He nodded again, “Okay, I love you, Mom.” He said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and giving her a hug.
“I love you too.” She said, stroking his cheek with her thumb before letting him go. He got his stuff from the backseat and waved as she backed up and turned the car around, disappearing from sight.
He looked around at the other boys around him; some of them seemed to have already made friends, some were already flirting with girls who had wandered over from their side of the camp. He turned away from them and looked around. The camp was surrounded by woods that were surrounded by mountains. A little bit away from him, there was a big lake that was beginning to sparkle in the setting sun.
“Boys! Gather round!” A strong voice called from somewhere behind him, “Girls, please go back to your side of the camp.” The man speaking was older, in his 60s at least. He was wearing camo and combat boots, and his voice was so loud that Ray thought he might have been using a microphone.
The man led them over to a small fire with logs circling it. “Everybody, take a seat.” He said.
Ray sat down with the other boys, looking into the fire as the man circled around them, getting straight to the point. “Your training starts tomorrow.” He said, walking with his hands behind his back, his posture similar to that of a 2 by 4.
“The rules are simple: be in bed by 10. No smoking, no drinking, no fighting, and no romantic relationships whatsoever with your fellow counselors.” Some of the other boys groaned, glancing longingly over to where the female counselors were getting their ted talk a couple of yards away. “And before you ask, yes, you will be getting paid, and yes, your paychecks will be deposited bi-weekly.”
Seems easy enough. Ray thought.
“Now, let’s get to know each other.” He said, picking up a stick from the ground and raising it up, “Give us your name and where you’re from. When you’re done, pass the talking stick to the person to your left. For example: I’m your Head Counselor, but you can call me the Major.”
He patted the shoulder of the boy sitting in front of him as he passed him the stick, causing him to stiffen slightly. “I’m Billy Stebbins, I’m from Iowa.” He said flatly, passing the stick along.
“My Name’s Collie Parker, I’m from South Dakota.” A boy with a striking face and long hair said.
“Gary Barkovitch. Florida.” Muttered a kid with greasy hair and a sour expression on his face.
“Hank Olsons the Name, Bostons my…” He trailed off, trying to think of a rhyme before giving up with a shrug and passing the stick along.
“I’m Brooklyn, New York, and I’m from Richard Harkness- I- I mean I’m Richard Harkness, and I’m from Brooklyn, New York.” A boy with a notebook in his hand stuttered.
“I’m Adam White, from California, but everybody calls me Curley.” One small boy said sheepishly. He looked so young, Ray could’ve mistaken him for one of the campers.
“I’m Art Baker, I’m from South Carolina.” A boy with a thick accent said, offering a small wave.
The stick was then passed to a guy directly across from Ray. He squinted, trying to make out his features in the dim glow of the now dying fire. “My name’s Peter McVries, I’m from the Garden State... More popularly known as New Jersey.” That drew a couple of laughs out of the other Counselors, causing Peter McVries to smile, his eyes twinkling like the fireflies that were dancing in the bushes behind him. Ray stared, suddenly feeling strange. He had seen a lot of guys and been jealous of their looks, but there was no jealousy here; he was just taken aback. He had never seen a boy who was so... beautiful. Peter turned his head, meeting his gaze. Ray ignored the way that his heart sped up and quickly looked away.
The talking stick continued its course, growing closer to Ray, but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He felt weird. What was up with that McVries guy? He had implanted himself into his brain like a mosquito bite he couldn’t help but itch. He jumped slightly as the kid beside him tapped his shoulder, holding out the stick.
“Oh, hi, sorry.” He said awkwardly, “My name's Raymond Ray Garraty- I mean- I'm... I’m from Maine.” He mumbled. Embarrassed, he passed the stick quickly and began to stare intently down at his shoes. He had to fight the urge to smack the palm of his hand to his forehead. What was wrong with him? Not even an hour in and he’s already managed to humiliate himself. Raymond Ray Garraty? Seriously?
—
All of the boys were dismissed and sent to their cabins for the night. Ray walked alone in the dark, still wishing he could sink into the ground. Maybe nobody had noticed the way he fumbled his words back there. He walked into the cabin, filled with other boys chatting. He bee-lined for the bunk farthest from the door and set his bags down, taking out his pajamas and heading to the showers.
The warm water felt good running down his skin as he attempted to scrub his embarrassment away. He didn’t even really care that he mixed up his words like that; he cared that he made himself look silly in front of that guy, Peter. He wasn’t even sure why; he just seemed… cool. He was obviously charasmatic, he made all those guys laugh like it was nothing. And Ray had managed to blow it without exchanging a single word. He leaned his head against the cold tile; all the soap from the dispenser hung on the shower wall couldn’t do a thing to scrub Peter McVries from his mind in that moment. Maybe his lack of sleep was starting to get to him, and he was truly going crazy. He got dressed and headed for bed, pulling the blankets over his head and closing his eyes. Ray thought of the fireflies that looked almost like stars in the pitch black night. If they were stars, then Peter McVries was most certainly the moon. Every time he thought of Peter, it felt like those fireflies were flickering in the pit of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Whatever was wrong with him, it would all be better after he got a good night's sleep.
—
Ray groaned softly, covering his eyes from the sunlight pouring in through the window beside his bed. Suddenly, something blocked the light, casting a shadow over him. He moved his arm, sleepily peeking one eye open. Peter McVries was looking down at him curiously from the top bunk.
“Good morning, Raymond Ray Garraty.” He said cheekily.
Ray groaned, shyly drawing his blanket up to his eyes to hide the way his cheeks were beginning to flush. Great, he had noticed. “I’m just Ray.”
“Hi, Ray. I’m just Pete.”
Yup. Definitely still crazy.