#grown up camp staff job

[camp-counselor-life]

So one of our camp directors is leaving (sad) and my boss told me today that a lot of people think that I will apply to the position. Now, this is my camp, this is the camp I was at for 4 summers, I went there as a kid, and it's where I was director. But, as I told my boss, I am not at a phase in my life where being a camp director is a good fit. She automatically assumed it was my cat, but here's what I told both her and the outgoing director:

From a work-life balance standpoint, I wish I had a little more life, and becoming camp director would move me in the opposite direction, outside of maybe the winter. I already spend so much time at work, I don't think being a year round director would work for me.

From a mental health standpoint, while my anxiety was bad in grad school, I am not in a place mentally to be a camp director. I am starting a new med, and I am doing well so far, but not well enough that I feel I could leave my health team for three months.

Ultimately, I like my job. I enjoy my work and the programs I've built. I enjoy my flexibility to pursue projects I deem worthy or interesting, and I like that I get to collaborate with other departments. I like the variety and the topics.

What I didn't say is that I'm also struggling with chronic pain, something I haven't revealed at work. I also have chronic exhaustion, both of which aren't super compatible with a camp director position.

Overall, I am sad to not be able to be a camp director, but I am satisfied with where I'm at. Maybe someday I will go back to camp. But not right now.

[nadvs]

out of bounds (part one)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

note i know most of my readers follow me for rafe fics so i hope y’all can bare with me indulging in a fluffy and angsty (and eventually spicy) summer romance with the sunshine character that is zach 🙂‍↕️ all my love to @juniebugg who inspired me to write about him ilysm 💘

» masterlist

Once you’re finally sitting down in the main lodge, a massive wooden cabin nestled in the center of the campground, you feel like you can take your first real breath since you arrived.

The morning was chaos. You made it to check-in just in time and met your cabin-mate Ami, who you learned is also new to the job.

Then, you quickly changed into your new bright orange staff t-shirt, which is so bright orange that it hurts to look at, and chatted with her as you rushed over for orientation.

Now, you’re settled on one of twelve wooden chairs facing the grand fireplace, set in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, which boast a cobalt blue lake under a cloudless sky.

Campers are set to arrive tomorrow morning and today is dedicated to preparation. You’ve already done countless training modules online before arriving, so today will be all about learning what’s left.

You hope you get a chance to explore the place before it starts teeming with preteens, because the photos on the camp website don’t do the grounds justice.

Your interviews were over video call and today is the first time you’re seeing the stunning campground in person. It’s stretched out on a wide expanse of greener-than-green pine trees, rustic buildings, and pristine soccer fields.

This job is your best case scenario for the summer. You can’t wait to spend seven weeks in one of the prettiest places you’ve ever seen and gain confidence in your athletic skills while coaching kids in your favorite sport.

As a center back on your college’s girls’ soccer team, you feel your best when you’re out on the pitch, but the pressure of the past school year was hard to navigate. You hope that teaching kids excited about soccer will remind you of why you like it so much.

As Zach sits in the front row, he notices the smell of this place never changes. It’s woodsy and brisk. It smells like comfort. But he’s pretty sure he’s biased. Camp Summit is sort of a haven to him and has been since he was a kid.

The chatter in the lodge has grown louder as more and more counselors settle into their seats, but once the camp directors walk up to the front, the noise wavers.

Tom and Ruby offer a kind welcome and then, like they do every year, quickly jump into training.

After two hours of going over the how-to’s on welcoming campers, facilitating activities, walkie-talkie etiquitte, and establishing rules, they announce that everyone can head to the dining hall for lunch.

“We won’t force you through any awkward icebreakers,” Tom says to the group, “so, we encourage you to get to know each other over lunch. We have a good mix of vets and newbies this year. We want you to be friends with your coworkers. But before you go…”

He looks over the room.

“We should mention,” the director continues, “that we have a strict policy against anything more. It can get unprofessional and inappropriate when counselors date each other.”

“Is that legal?” Ami whispers to you. “They can’t, like fire us for that, right?”

“You like someone already?” you amusedly ask your new friend.

“I might,” she says with a smile, her eyes on a dark-haired guy sitting ahead of you. You quietly laugh, glad you’re already so comfortable with the girl you’ll be bunking with.

“Aren’t you guys married to each other?” a girl behind you calls out.

The way that Tom and Ruby laugh tells you that they are, and that the counselor who shouted that must be a vet, already familiar enough with them to make comments like that.

“Yeah, but directors can do whatever they want,” Ruby jokes with a lighthearted shrug. You look down at their hands to see wedding rings. “In all seriousness, we hate having to enforce it, but please, no dating.”

Once counselors slowly rise out of their seats to go to lunch, your eyes land on a tall, messy-haired stranger standing at the front, who starts a conversation with the directors.

Maybe you shouldn’t tease your cabin-mate, because when you see his charming smile, you think you might have a crush of your own.

Tables are arranged in a neat grid in the dining hall, with a big buffet table prepared at the far wall.

You line up, noticing Ami a few people ahead, already striking conversation with the guy she pointed out to you.

You slowly inch forward with the line as counselors start to load their plates. You realize just how many people were in front of you when you get to the table and see one fork left.

You pick it up and turn to see only one person behind you. It’s the guy you noticed back at the lodge. His blue eyes sweep over your face. He’s even cuter up close.

“There’s only one left,” you say, holding out the fork with a small frown.

Zach stills when you look at him. You’re so pretty that it’s like he’s buffering. That’s the only way he can think to describe it.

You’re in the same orange shirt every other counselor is wearing and such a harsh color shouldn’t look this good on anyone, but it does on you. He reads your name-tag.

And then he realizes you said something. He completely missed it because he was too busy staring.

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes flit down to his name-tag. Zach, in black marker, punctuated with a smiley face. His tag is worn and scratched up, a hard contrast to how new and shiny yours is.

“There’s only one fork left,” you clarify, a soft laugh in your tone. He looks dazed, a gentle crease between his brows, almost like he wasn’t expecting to see you even though you were standing directly ahead of him.

“Oh,” he says. He looks past you to the table, his lips screwing up. “It’s cool. You can have it.”

Zach gazes at you again, a smile on his face now that he’s feeling a bit more grounded.

“I’ll find one. I…” He crosses his arms, feigning pompousness. “I have connections around here.”

“Yeah?” you play along.

“Oh, yeah. I was a camper until I aged out,” Zach tells you. “And I’ve been working here since I was 16, so I have friends in high places.”

You laugh again. That explains why he seemed so comfortable with the directors back at the lodge. He’s clearly been here for quite a few summers.

“I can tell you’ve been here a while by the state of that name-tag,” you tease. He looks down to tilt up the worn out plastic rectangle pinned to his t-shirt, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Poke fun all you want, but you don’t know how impressive it is that I never lost this,” Zach replies. “Name-tags go missing all the time. I bet you’ll lose yours.”

“I thought staff were supposed to be friends,” you say. “You’re already betting against me?”

“You want some advice?” He leans just a little closer, his tone fake-serious. “It’s actually very cutthroat here.”

“So, the be friends with your coworkers stuff, that was all talk?” you say with a gasp, mirroring his playfulness.

“All talk,” he echoes with a smirk.

“Wow,” you half-whisper. “Thanks for the advice.”

You share another smile with him, already sure your crush on him isn’t going away. He’s friendly and kind of goofy and probably has all the girls after him. You wonder how seriously he takes the no dating rule.

Then, you turn back towards the table, surprised at how quickly your mind is running away from you.

After you load your plate with food, Ami calls you over to a table with a few other counselors. You get to know a decent amount of other staff, including Malcolm, the guy your cabin-mate is openly flirting with. He seems to be just as into her.

It’s a long afternoon of training and once you step out of the lodge, you feel like you can breathe again. It was a lot of information at once and the thought of wrangling nine campers on your own feels a bit overwhelming.

But at least for every activity for the first two weeks, newbies will be paired with vets. That gives you some relief.

The sounds of birds chirping and wind blowing through the trees fill your ears as you walk towards the staff cabins hidden behind the dining hall. Your shoes dig into the dirt and you breathe in the smell of pine and earth, feeling a sense of peace settle into the bones.

Despite the tinges of anxiety, you feel grounded here, like you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

As you finish unpacking with Ami, a coworker comes by to tell you that the counselors are going to have a bonfire after sunset. You set up your room and both head towards the lake once the sky starts darkening.

Zach is arranging logs in the fire-pit, kneeling on the ground while Malcolm leans close by. No other counselors have joined yet, and he’s glad because it’s taking embarrassingly long to set up the fire.

“Just let me know when you need the lighter,” Malcolm says.

”I could use some help on lining the kindling up,” Zach tells him.

“I think you’re doing great on your own.”

Zach snorts a chuckle. His cabin-mate and best friend of two years always tries to get away with doing the least amount of work.

“Is this the party?” Ami calls.

Zach turns to see you walking towards the pit. It gives him a chance to drink you in completely, the sight of your figure making his cheeks burn.

“Just getting it started,” Malcolm says. “This place would fall apart without us.”

You and Ami chuckle, settling on one of the logs.

“Us? It looks like Zach’s the only one doing any work,” you say.

“Thank you!” he says with a sarcastic sigh, looking up to smile at you. Your gazes hold a bit longer than they need to.

“Want any help?” you ask.

“All good,” he says. “I’m used to carrying the team.”

“Cold,” Malcolm says. “Strikers and their egos.”

“You’re a striker?” you ask Zach. It tracks. Strikers tend to be on the taller side, and you practically had to crane your neck to meet his eyes when you spoke to him before lunch.

“Yeah, you?” Zach asks.

“Center back,” you reply.

“Most important position,” Malcolm adds.

“Jeez, I wonder what you are,” Ami says with a laugh. “What was that you said about egos?”

The fire starts to slowly blaze and Zach stands up, exhales tiredly and scratches his forehead. It causes his shirt to ride up and expose an inch of his stomach.

Even under the dark blue sky, the flames only offering dull, flickering light, you can’t help but notice the v lines carved into his skin.

You look away. You feel like you’re practically thirsting over him at this point. You’re convinced that the fact that fraternizing between staff is forbidden is what’s making you even more tempted to stare at him.

The four of you continue to make small-talk as more counselors start to join. You learn that Zach and Malcolm share a cabin and that they play together on their college’s team, a school only an hour away from yours.

You also notice Malcolm jokingly calls Zach a nepo baby at one point, but before you can ask why, the conversation stirs in a different direction.

Soon after, a few counselors rough-house dangerously close to the fire. It’s only for a moment, but Zach perks up.

“Be careful around there, alright?” Zach says.

“Relax, dad,” one of the vets says. “We will.”

This is the only place in the world where people tell Zach to relax. He feels a sense of responsibility here. He’s sort of an unofficial babysitter, keeping everyone in check.

You notice his dimples dip into his cheeks. He’s obviously used to being teased for being the dad of the group.

You find it a good time to privately ask him about his other nickname, the staff chatter and wood crackling loud enough so only he can hear you.

“Why’d Malcolm call you a nepo baby?” you ask.

“Oh,” Zach says with a chuckle. “Ruby and Tom are my aunt and uncle. I’m not really a nepo baby, though. I don’t get any special privileges. The opposite, actually.”

“Opposite?” you ask, amused.

“They feel way more comfortable getting mad at me than any of the other staff,” he admits lightheartedly.

“Who would get mad at you?” you joke.

“I know, right? I’m adorable.”

It’s way too easy to flirt with him. This is going to be hard.

As the night goes on, you notice Ami and Malcolm slowly drift closer towards each other, laughing and talking. Eventually, they rush away into the dark.

Admittedly, the thought of sneaking off in the night with a cute guy is kind of exciting. You look over to see Zach noticed them leave, too.

“I think our cabin-mates are about to hook up,” you say quietly.

“On the first night, too.” He shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. “It happens every year.”

“Do they actually fire people for dating?”

“I’ve seen them get close,” Zach says. “But people hide it well for the most part. Honestly, I think most do it just because it’s against the rules.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” you say with a laugh. “It’s the whole forbidden part of it. Tell people they’re not allowed to do something, and guess what they want to do?”

“Something,” he says, earning another laugh from you.

You wonder if he ever has broken this particular rule, but it’d be too forward to ask.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” he offers, looking at the fire. You’re pretty sure he’s just giving you advice, but you take it as an opening, the curiosity killing you.

“So, you never have?” you ask.

“Nope.”

Over his many summers working here, Zach’s had crushes on other counselors, and he definitely has one on you, but a fling isn’t worth losing his job and letting down his family.

He owes a lot to his aunt and uncle. He wouldn’t disrespect their rules, no matter how pretty the new girl is.

When he looks over at you again, at the way the flames are casting shadows over your features, he corrects himself. Pretty is an understatement; beautiful is more fitting.

He almost suggests you don’t take the risk of dating either, but it’d be purely selfish. He doesn’t like the idea of seeing you in a summer romance with another guy.

And he feels insane for already feeling hypothetical jealousy, but he’s never clicked with a girl this quickly before. You’re sweet and interesting and you get his humor, and he feels like he couldn’t not like you if he tried.

“So, what brought you here?” he asks.

“Interview answer or real answer?”

“Real answer,” he says with a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Playing at the college level is a lot more pressure than I expected,” you admit. “I want the experience and obviously the pay with this job, but mostly, I just want to be reminded of why I like soccer so much. Honestly, I lost my confidence in my skills this past year and I’d like to get it back.”

You’re surprised at how open you’re being, but something about him makes you want to be. He gives you a sense of safety. You can tell he’s kind-hearted.

“One of the best parts of working here is that you get enough downtime to practice,” he tells you. “I’d be happy to help you on your defense if you want.”

Your stomach numbs imagining it. It’s such a sweet gesture, especially because you’d just learned that he’s on a full-ride scholarship. You know he’s good.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“If you’re looking for a reminder of why you like soccer, you came to the right camp,” he replies, his smile bright and sincere.

“You really like it here, huh?” you ask, kind of in awe of him.

“I owe a lot to this place,” he says.

You make a note to yourself to ask him to elaborate on that later, as another counselor takes his attention with a question about tomorrow before you can reply.

You look back at the fire and you promise yourself that you’ll just be Zach’s coworker. At most, his friend.

You won’t risk getting even close to dating. You don’t want to lose your job. And you certainly don’t want Zach to lose his, especially because it seems important to him to follow the rules.

Besides, maybe he has a girlfriend already. You can’t imagine a guy like him being single. And maybe he’s not even into you like that. He could just be very friendly.

As the fire dwindles and counselors start to retire to their cabins, Zach leaves and returns with a bucket of water to extinguish the remaining flames.

You’re not sure why, but watching him be so hands-on with no expectations to be thanked for it makes you like him even more.

“Which cabin are you in?” he asks you, looking over his shoulder. You hope he didn’t catch you staring.

“Four,” you answer.

“We’re neighbors,” he says. “I’m in five. I can walk you back, newbie.”

There’s a chance he’s just being nice, but even though it’s against the rules, you hope it’s more.

You check your phone to see it’s just past ten o’clock. The moonlight is bright as you and Zach walk towards the staff cabins.

You’re chatting about how beautiful the campground is and he grins as he looks down at his feet. He loves this place and hearing someone else appreciate it feels nice.

When he looks up, he stops in his tracks. You follow his eye-line. There’s a shirt hanging on his cabin’s doorknob.

“Frick,” he says. You smirk to yourself. He’s so wholesome that he doesn’t even swear.

“Does the shirt on the knob mean what I think it means?” you ask.

“If you think it means walking in there would make me see something I can’t ever unsee and scar me for life, you’re right,” Zach answers.

You chuckle. You’re definitely going to ask Ami about the details of her hook-up with Malcolm later. And you feel an obligation to also remind her that the no-dating rule is serious.

“I’ll give them ten minutes, then I’m knocking,” he says. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

You know you should go to bed and get rested before the craziness of tomorrow. But being around Zach makes you not want to.

“I can keep you company,” you offer. “I’m pretty wired anyway.”

“Thanks,” he says with a sincere smile. It makes your heart flutter that he seems just as happy to spend more time with you.

“So, what’s there to do around here at ten o’clock?” you ask.

Zach rakes his hair back, gazing out at a soccer field in the distance as crickets loudly chirp around you.

“If you’re looking to burn energy, we can do some of that practice we were talking about,” he suggests. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

“You sure you’re not too tired?” you ask.

“Nah. Let’s go,” he says. “But be warned, when I coach, I’m ruthless.”

You laugh, already well aware of how far from the truth that must be.

“Consider me warned,” you joke. “Lead the way.”

(part two)

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[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

sandra paños' farewell statement

"well, good morning and thank you to all the people who are here present on such an emotional and special day for me. first of all, i wanted to thank the club, the board of directors represented by xavi puig and the sports director marc vivés for giving me the opportunity to say goodbye here today. as i said many months ago, this is my last season at the club. i came to barça in 2015 thanks to the assistance of xavi llorens and i will always be very grateful to him for having trusted me.

if i look back and stop to think about everything we have experienced and achieved in this time, i think it has been an extraordinary journey that i could not have imagined even in my wildest dreams. barcelona has been my home for nine years. i arrived with great desire and excitement to take on the world but also with the respect of coming to the best team in spain and to what could become the best team in the world.

i believe that i have grown a lot both in sports and personally, i have lived a barça life full of experiences and i can say with my head held high that i have given everything for this shield. i am leaving in peace with the tremendous pride of having been one of the captains of this extraordinary team that never tires of improving itself and i have no doubt that you continue to do so. with the satisfaction of the work done by everyone that has led us to achieve many successes. and above all, i am happy to have shared so many moments with wonderful people, people who will stay with me for the rest of my life.

i feel very fortunate and privileged to have been part of the exponential growth of the false arrival of our country, having broken barriers and raised our voice. we have earned the respect and admiration of society and the world through our way of playing and understanding football and i believe that with our naturalness we have infected thousands and thousands of people who are now fans of women's football.

we have a synergy that moves the world and experiencing this first hand is honestly amazing. i consider myself a normal person who has lived an extraordinary life. the 23 titles that have coincided are a good example of this. three leagues, three european champions leagues that sum up the commitment, the effort of a job well done. i don't want to forget the afternoon when we filled the camp nou with 91,000 people and that was a world record attendance at the women's football match and above all being able to live on the pitch with all the fans.

i have always tried to be faithful to my values ​​and principles throughout the time with the responsibility of tranquility and way of understanding life and sport, especially towards the youngest who now have a role model to look up to. those role models that we all missed. like you, this life has a beginning and an end that ends my time in barcelona. i would like to thank all the people with whom i have shared these nine years, club workers, directors responsible for the women's team, medical services, staff and all the colleagues with whom i have shared a locker room.

but if i have to make a special mention, it is to a person who has been with me since i arrived at the club. we have grown, laughed, cried, seen me frustrated, improved, and has been the person who has supported me the most along the way and has been very important in my sporting growth. thanks to zuri.

i want to value all the work and dedication of each of the people who have dedicated themselves to this team. because things are not a coincidence and when there is a firm commitment and you work hard in the same direction, things go well and that could not happen without the total commitment that the group has made to us. i believe in the legacy we leave behind is the greatest motivation for the next generations to continue working at the highest level. i won't forget the fans who are always by our side. thanks culers!

on a more personal level, i want to thank all the people who have accompanied me in this stage in a more close way, but especially my mother, my brothers and my partner, my traveling companion, who has been fundamental and has helped me a lot and has sustained me through the worst moments. i also want to thank you for being unconditional and supporting me and following me everywhere as you have done since i was little.

but above all i made it through this year the most difficult of all because thanks to you i am the person i am and i have managed to get ahead in all the situations i have encountered on this path. and honestly it may have been the most complicated year but the one in which i have learned the most and which i have been personally and professionally and i am very proud to have at my side, the engine of my life. it is not like a place where i have been so loved, happy and fulfilled and that is why i will be eternally grateful to have belonged to barça and to have taken our shield to the highest level. our paths are separating for the moment but i can proudly say that barça will always be my home.

[synergysilhouette]

My frustration with Asha's writing

A lot of people liked "Wish," and a lot of people didn't, and a particular concern for the latter was the main protagonist. Since I'm in the camp of "I'm frustrated with 'Wish,'" I'll discuss a little bit about why Asha feels like such a letdown.

She's an archetype, but not an individualized character. She screams "Disney heroine," but she doesn't have anything about her that makes her character stand out (positively) among other Disey female leads. She has no flaws that hinder her, and her positive traits are vague at best. "I care too much," is the most generic thing I've ever heard a main character say. In fact, it becomes almost meaningless when a character (who genuinely means it) says it about themselves; caring too much is a statement that works best when talking about someone else. In fact...

2. She has significant plot armor. She gets far in the process of being considered to be Magnifico's apprentice, but it's never said WHY. Considering her friend (or friends? I'm not sure) works in the castle, Dahlia putting in a good word for Asha would make sense to why Magnifico would consider her, and even him asking around town for their opinion of her would make more sense. But it feels like she gets so far in the process simply because she's the main character, despite Magnifico knowing next to nothing about her. And Magnifico has several magical powers at his disposal, but he's still defeated by her (mainly because he only uses his staff against her).

3. She has a lot of influence, but again, it's not really said how or why. During the reprise of "This Wish," the people of Rosas side with her against Magnifico--but this is likely because she's the only one who dared to stand up against him. We only see Asha interact with the people of Rosas during the opening song with her as a tour guide (how did she get THAT job?), and it feels very professional, very timed. It doesn't feel intimate or personal, like Asha has built up a good rapport with the other citizens.

4. Her family is poorly defined. Sabino's wish is to create a song that inspires the next generation, but as Magnifico himself mentions, that's a vague wish--plus imo, it's cheating; rather than working hard and creating a legacy for yourself, you want to wish to give something for people to remember you by. And Sabino is obviously older than Magnifico, but his life--and how he lived it without the kingdom of wishes--is never explored. Perhaps if it was explained that he experienced great hardship and his spirit was broken, it'd explain why he was so fixated on getting a wish. And Sakina's wish is never explained. She's probably the worst-characterized parent in a 21st century Disney movie, since she's pretty much just there. And Asha's father inspired her, but he isn't shown much. I'd have enjoyed it if the plot revolved around her trying to revive her father and it proves Magnifico's point that some wishes can't/shouldn't be granted.

5. She learns NOTHING. Her whole song is about "I've lived a lie" when that's not entirely true; she takes a very black and white view on the situation without ever trying to evolve her viewpoint via Magnifico's perspective, and the people of Rosas never stop to think "we shouldn't be codependent"; they just think "we shouldn't have let Magnifico lie to us." It's a giant avoidance of guilt on everyone's behalf, and since Magnifico is a villain, no one really cares that he has some semblance of a point. When you look at protagonists like Pocahontas, Judy Hopps, and Anna, you see how they learned a new way of looking at things, that they've suffered hardships (either through their own making or otherwise) and that they've grown from it.

6. She's "relateable." Disney's adorkable thing hasn't been too much of an issue for me up to this point; it was unique when Anna did it, and it never feels super cringey with Mirabel and Moana (though if Mirabel is cringey, it fits into the narrative). But now it's tired. I'd enjoy more mature leads like Raya, Tiana, and Elsa, rather than Disney trying to make a protagonist that tries--and fails--to be quirky. And I never really saw Rapunzel as adorkable as her later leading ladies. But Asha tries too hard; honestly that should've been one of her flaws in the film. Her desperation to meet everyone's approval would've been something neat (albeit familiar if we compare her to Mirabel) to explore in the film.

[kimberly-spirits13]

I Ruined My Summer Vacation

Okay so I ruined my summer with a camp counseling job and I am on the verge of quitting. It's my first week in and it has been a shit show. This is a school that I moved out of because of the problems it has but one of my good friends works there and was talking about how awesome the summer camp was. She told me that it was run by some great people (that I am kind of friends with) and that any problems get taken care of really quickly. It pays $500 a week (net income). So I started yesterday (two weeks late since I was busy and they said it was fine) and within two days this has happened

I got punched by a kid

A kid tried to fight me

a kid climbed onto the library shelves and tore the books down five minutes before carpool

a kid started biting the others and drew blood

a kid stomped on a lizard (and killed it) because another kid was looking at to be funny

a kid has thrown a cussing tantrum in front of other kids because he couldn't climb the tables

a kid broke a table

a kid elbowed another kid in the eye

one kid has gotten sent to the "head counselor's office" 20 times in two weeks and has not gotten in any other trouble

the same kid tried to snap in half another kid's elbow across his knees today (we got in trouble for pulling them apart since we can't touch the kids)

The boys have started slapping the girl's butts to be funny

I listened to a 6 hour long first grader rendition of Ice Spice

The first and second graders play COD and Fortnight with grown men online

We found out that the kids cannot play on the playground because their parents have sat them in front of screens their entire lives and they literally don't know what to do

I got to break up a beat down because one kid took a kid's puzzle box lid and the other took the one kid's baseball cap

the kids have started launching themselves off of the library risers (it's about 8 feet off the ground)

the kids have started dragging other kids up the risers and throwing them off

the kids have thrown things at the SmartBoards when they're angry (they're $8,000 boards btw)

Kids run away and hid from counselors and purposefully get lost so that we get in trouble

the kids are bullying each other and verbalizing that they are "targeting *insert a kid name"

The kids are illiterate

The 3rd and 4th graders struggle with basic multiplication and division (4x1 & 38/2 were the big ones today)

parents are signing up some of the kids for 8am-12pm camps and are not coming to pick up their kids after the paid for camps so we are looking after these kids without further pay because their parents are dropping them off like we're some sort of unpaid babysitter club

kids will make eye contact with you, call your name, and then do something you told them not to do, only to bunker down and not stop once you tell them not to

these same kids will wrap themselves around table or whatever they can find and say. "You can't do anything, you can't touch me!"

The HEAD STAFF has come in and asked to speak with camp counselors that aren't working this week and then ask where the camp coordinators are and we're like "uhhhh in their office?"

The head staff has yet to inform us of the kid's allergies so last week we almost had to send a kid to the ER because he got bit by an ant and no one bothered to say that he needed an EPIPEN and another kid ran away crying because a junior counselor pulled out a PB&J in front of him and he thought the junior counselor was trying to kill him (apparently he's got the airborne severity of peanut butter allergy but that wasn't in his charts or mentioned to us)

kids have started throwing soccer and tennis balls at each other when they're mad

a kid made a noose out of crafting items and tried to hang the others with it

a boy shoved a straw into another little boy's privates

a kid tried to hide puzzle pieces from his camp mates by shoving them down his pants because there was nothing we could do about it

one of the camp counselors who is a college football player broke down crying in the break room because he cannot get the kids to listen

another girl has cried a few times in one day because she cannot discipline the kids and they are telling her that their parents will sue her if she's mean to them

we tried to get in contact with one of the kid's parents only to find out that they have jet set across the world the Europe and will be out of country for the entire summer so the kids are staying at their very old grandparent's house and cannot be further disciplined

parents literally drop their kids off so that they don't have to deal with them and will not answer their phones if something happens and are always late to pick their kids up, hardly make the payment cut, and their kids behave as such

This is only day two. I've had some people tell me to stick with it since it's so early, and some say that it's obviously not going to get any better. I talked to one of my friends who has been working here for five years and he said it's the most well behaved group he's ever worked with. I hate this job, I hate that I'm waisting my summer. I may just give it the rest of this week and one more week and then I'm out. These are 6-12 year olds in a college prep private school and they are acting like rabid animals the entire day. It's not all of them, but it's enough that most of the counselors have talked about quitting. One of the lead counselors won't even be in the entire time since she's about to have a baby so it will get even worse. I cannot iterate how much I hate this job, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, and I am homeschooling my kids after this. I hope I get COVID so that I can miss the next few weeks.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch 8/10)

September 7, 2023

Notes - I know this chapter is exceptionally overdue and I'm so sorry that it is, but my job raised my hours pretty significantly, and, with everything else going on in my already crazy life, I found it very hard to sit down and write. However, I'm hoping to get the next few chapters out as soon as possible so we can move on to bigger and better things!

Chapter 8 - Rumor Has It

The sun slowly rose over the hills of trees that surrounded Camp Wanamaker. Morning light crept across the gentle waves of the lake and the tops of the cabins, dancing across the dewy grass and making it shimmer like a million minuscule diamonds. The yellow-orange glow snaked its way closer and closer to the windows of each building, finding the cheap cotton curtains with ease. The light eventually seeped through the curtains and spilled onto the bed of a certain brunet boy, his chocolate coils woven into little knots as he struggled to get himself out of his twisted sheets while he slept.

It had been a rough night for Royce. He had just barely fallen asleep when an emergency notification about a missing child in the area rang loudly on his phone, jolting him awake as he tore out his earbuds. By the time he had finally worked himself back to the edge of sleep, it was nearing two in the morning. He wasn’t the only one who had issues with chasing sleep that night, which was made apparent as Bentley entered the room and silently joined his brother, relishing in the quiet and calm his brother’s room provided. Thankfully, they had the day to recover and relax while everyone else did as they pleased on their last day of freedom before the next group of campers arrived.

As Royce stirred, the soft rays of light filtering through his eyelashes as he slowly blinked them open, a light grumble from his side caught his attention. Glancing down, he found Bentley curled up to his side, his face buried in Royce’s shirt to avoid the sunlight coming in from the window. A notion of a chuckle left Royce’s mouth as he peered over at the clock on his nightstand. All he needed to see was the glowing, red six at the start of the number to know that his little brother wouldn’t be moving any time soon. At least, not willingly. Taking in a slow breath and sighing, Royce reached for the cell phone he had ditched on the nightstand and relaxed back onto his pillow, ready to enjoy a lazy morning.

If you asked any of the Murphy brothers, lazy mornings were reserved for Sundays anyway. Back in their home, they would usually be found lounging on the couch with bowls of soggy cereal or packets of Pop-Tarts, their eyes semi-glued to the typical weekend cartoons playing on the TV as they ate breakfast. Well, in more recent months, they had. Their old television was a crappy box model with a single dial that had only one good station while the other four were filled with either news or politics. However, after Vivien’s “stay-cation” to their world, they had grown accustomed to the hundreds of stations they could receive with the television the girl had gotten Mick’s help with making.

It didn’t take them long to realize that living at Camp Wanamaker was something else entirely. Most of the televisions available were outfitted with every app known to mankind and possessed a slew of shows nobody in the cabin had seen before - not even those who lived in the modern world. Not every cabin had a television, of course, but the ones that were home to just counselors or staff members had at least one for the cabin to share. Royce and Bentley had spent their free mornings during staff weeks in front of the TV, watching shows that Vivien and Mick had added to their watchlists. It was a good way to spend their mornings, all in all.

Just as Royce had begun searching his phone for something to keep himself occupied, Bentley shifted, slowly lifting his head from Royce’s shirt and grumbling a complaint about the sun. A yawn caught the youngest of the Murphy brothers, forcing him to stretch against the mattress as he made a noise of frustration. Flopping back down against the sheets, Bentley slowly turned toward Royce and muttered, “G’mornin’.”

“Morning,” Royce spoke softly. “Have a good sleep?”

Bentley shrugged, “Kinda.”

Royce hummed, “Do you wanna go watch the next episode of that zombie show? We can make some cereal and just chill on the couch while everyone goes to the mess hall.”

After a moment of contemplation, Bentley shook his head, “I don’t think I’m up for watching someone get their insides eaten like a bowl of zombie spaghetti jsut yet. Can I watch you play the cat game instead? You know, the one where you help the robots?”

Bentley watching Royce play games was nothing new, but it had become far more common in recent times. While Bentley loved playing games with adventure or mindless fun as the main focus, story-driven games like What Remains of Edith Finch and their newfound favorite, Stray, made it easier for Bentley to relinquish all control of the game to Royce in favor of watching him play and piecing together the storyline at his own pace. In a way, it was easier and both brothers enjoyed the time they got to spend together. 

With a smile, Royce nodded as he sat up, “Sure, Benny. Why don’t you go get that started up and I’ll make breakfast.”

As Bentley sluggishly shoved the blankets away from his legs, he grinned, “Can I have Cocoa Puffs with chocolate milk?”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded. “You want your Hufflepuff mug or just a normal cup?”

Bentley snickered, “No, RJ, I mean, can I have chocolate milk in my cereal?”

Royce paused, feeling as though he had a circle swirling above his head as he processed his brother’s request. “But-” he took in a breath, “Benny, there’ll be chocolate milk at the bottom anyway if you’re having Cocoa Puffs.”

“I know,” Bentley shrugged, “but I want it more chocolatey so when I drink it after the cereal’s gone, it’s not like two little bits of chocolate and a bowl of straight milk.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Royce relented, “Alright, fine. That makes sense.”

As he followed Royce to the door, Bentley smirked and asked, “Can I have a glass of orange juice to go with it? Maybe some pickles afterward?” The look of disgusted horror Royce sent in return as he whirled around made Bentley cackle, patting his brother on the shoulder as he ducked around him. Bentley had just reached the bottom step when Royce began thumping down them, rattling off about disgusting food combinations first thing in the morning and musing how someone they knew must have been pregnant if he was craving something so nasty. Bentley beamed with pride as he grabbed the game controller from the coffee table; it was mornings like these that he didn’t mind being up so early.

Vivien moved sluggishly as the rain battered against the air conditioner that stuck out of one of the music hall’s windows. Rain always made her tired and, with nothing better to do, she and Miles were stuck in the music hall, practicing guitar and fooling around with the instruments that would, typically, go unused on a day like that. To make matters worse, it was Monday. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; however, that meant the carnival in Laconia was now officially open, and, due to the rain, they wouldn’t be able to go.

The trips to the carnival had been planned quite thoroughly. Every day, one group would be taken to the carnival for the day and return for dinner. Although most everyone at the camp wanted nothing more than to go to the carnival, the rain had come over the area overnight and the carnival grounds on the early-morning news had looked more like muddy grass soup, making it an easy decision for those at the camp to stay at the camp. 

As Miles strummed a song on the guitar and hummed softly along, Vivien dropped onto the bench beside him, a yawn leaving her as she tipped her head back to look at the ceiling, “I’m so fucking bored.”

“Join the club, kiddo,” Miles chuckled, allowing his strumming to fade off as he pushed his focus onto the girl beside him. 

“Does the club offer cookies?” 

“Only on weekends and at club meetings.”

“Then I don’t wanna join,” she sighed.

“Too bad,” Miles teased, nudging the girl with his elbow as he set the guitar down beside his leg. “Once you’re invited, there’s no turning it down.” Vivien glanced in Miles’ direction with an amused smirk before another yawn tugged itself from her. “Tired?” he asked.

Instead of firing off a quick quip, Vivien lazily nodded, leaning closer to Miles until her head came into contact with his shoulder. “I slept fine last night, but I woke up later than normal and it’s throwing me off.”

Miles chuckled, tugging his arm from between them and bringing it around Vivien’s shoulders, “For some reason, I don’t have that problem.”

“You suck.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still suck,” Vivien muttered as she brought an arm around Miles’ back.

Allowing himself to smile, Miles gave Vivien’s arm a squeeze, “You’re such a little shit.”

“Takes one to know one.”

As rain battered against the windows, the wind rattling the glass ominously as it passed, Miles grinned. Even though they spent almost every day in the music hall, it wasn’t too often that he got to spend time with just Vivien. Normally, the music hall was filled with kids wanting to bash the drums or learn guitar, the split of interests keeping him and Vivien on opposite sides of the large room. It was times like these - the rare moments when the hall was empty and they would be able to talk or play guitar - that Miles felt an actual connection with the girl. 

They had spent a few months under the same roof during Vivien’s prolonged stay in their world over winter break and he enjoyed watching her grow more comfortable around everyone he knew and loved. Once she had gotten out of the “Royce’s girlfriend” title everyone had given her and made a name for herself, Miles got to see the different sides of Vivien that he hadn’t yet found. After everything they had been through over her break, she now felt like the younger sister he never got the chance to have. 

As Miles glanced up at the ceiling, wondering how long it would be before they would need to break out the buckets in the storage room to catch dripping water that penetrated through the older roof, Vivien sighed. Despite her exhaustion, her mind raced with thoughts of what they were going to do to keep themselves busy until Saturday. As one of the last groups to go to the carnival, they had to keep themselves entertained for most of the week. After a moment, Vivien glanced out the window toward where the pool would, by now, be empty. Maybe she could convince Mick to let her swim in the rain; it would beat sitting around, doing nothing while they waited for a potentially musically inclined camper to stumble through the door. 

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen much of Mick lately. Faintly, she wondered if the older girl was okay. She knew that Mick was suffering from a few health issues lately as they had talked a bit about her recent bouts of exhaustion, some pretty strong nausea, and how she had woken up with swollen ankles with no reason as to why. Maybe she had been taking things easy in the hope that everything would fix itself before the time came for the appointment she had called to schedule the day before. Though she wondered what could be happening with Mick, she had a few ideas.

Pregnancy was, of course, one of the top suspects as the nausea and swelling were common in pregnancy. However, she couldn’t be sure. After all, Mick didn’t look pregnant. She was still just as toothpick thin as always - that damned metabolism Vivien wished she possessed keeping Mick looking more lean than muscular. It could still be possible, but she couldn’t recall Mick and Butchy having the chance to sneak away to - Vivien tried not to vomit at the thought - do the deed. 

Deciding she would have to bite the bullet to find out, Vivien lifted her head from Miles’ shoulder and asked, “Do you think Mick is pregnant?”

Miles’ head lilted to the side as he shot the girl a bewildered, raised eyebrow, “Where did that come from?”

“I was just thinking. You know how Mick’s been feeling off the last few days?” When Miles slowly nodded, Vivien continued, “Well, her symptoms are similar to pregnancy symptoms.”

“They are?”

With a nod, Vivien said, “Morning sickness, exhaustion, swelling, lack of period-”

“How do you know she doesn’t have her period?” Miles questioned.

Sending Miles the most bland face she could muster, Vivien deadpanned, “We’re girls, we talk about these things. But that’s not the point.”

“Right,” Miles said with a shake of his head, “so you think she could be pregnant?”

“Maybe,” Vivien shrugged. “I mean, they delayed their honeymoon so they could help here, but they’ve had the time to go out together and stuff. There’s no telling when it could have happened.”

Though Miles seemed to consider the idea, he mused, “But she doesn’t look pregnant.”

“Not everyone does,” Vivien claimed. “When Aunt Hayley had me, she didn’t show at all.”

Miles was silent for a while as he thought about all Vivien had said. It could be true. He had seen Mick behaving differently lately - constantly feeling chilly, falling asleep on the couch while watching movies, and having to step out of the mess hall sometimes because the scent was overpowering - but he hadn’t thought of pregnancy. He simply thought she was coming down with the stomach bug that was starting to pulse throughout the town.

Taking in a breath, Miles sighed, “It sounds like Mick is pregnant.”

“Well, we don’t know for sure,” Vivien said. “I can always ask her when I’ve got the chance.”

“Better you than me, kiddo.” Miles chuckled, “She’d probably rip my head from my shoulders.”

“Yeah, somehow I doubt she’d take it too kindly,” Vivien snickered. 

As Miles let out a snort of agreement, the door of the music hall slammed against the frame, the wood rattling as the wind beat against it. The laughter died on Miles’ lips as he and Vivien turned toward the door, eyeing it with wide stares. “Was that the wind?” Miles breathed.

Vivien pushed herself to stand, maneuvering around the bench and walking to the door, twisting the handle before tugging it open. Rain bucketed from above and the only sign of life was a group of kids who were busy screeching as they ran up the path toward the safety of the dance studio. Leaning against it to make it click into place, Vivien turned to Miles and shrugged, “It was either the wind or a ghost.”

With a shrug, Vivien grabbed a guitar and made her way back to her seat, silently asking Miles to help her with a song she wanted to play as she sat back down. As they began working on figuring out the chords of the song Vivien had chosen, neither of them was prepared for the onslaught of chaos that the week would bring. Just down the path from the music hall, the door to the dance studio slammed open as a group of dripping campers piled in.

“What happened to you?” one of the girls asked from the far side of the large room. On one side of the room, dancers in sweatpants and leotards stretched on the floor while others practiced before the mirror. However, as the door closed once more, the group of five by the door had everyone’s attention.

“We all decided to hop in the pool after practice,” Chloe, one of the soaked campers, answered sarcastically.

“We came from the tennis courts,” one of the drenched campers - a blonde named Maxine - said as she wrung her hair out over the doormat. “We had to cut around the music hall to get here quicker.”

“And,” the only brunette from the group - Rachel - piped up, “you’ll never guess what we heard on our way here!”

If they didn’t already have the attention of those around them, they certainly did now as questions popped up throughout the room like a game of Whack-A-Mole. Stepping to the front of the group, the youngest of the campers - Alex - beamed as she declared, “Mick, the lifeguard girl who always gives us extra time to relax after swimming laps, is pregnant!”

Squeals of excitement bubbled up throughout the dance studio, a few commented on how they “just knew” she had to be, and others questioned how the girls knew, to which Chloe said, “We overheard her friends talking. You know, the girl with the long-ass hair and the boy who’s dating Carrie? They were talking about Mick being pregnant and we heard them on our way by.”

As excited exclamations passed through the room, the door to the back hallway opened and a small girl entered the room, followed soon after by Charlie, who led the dance studio every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Looking around the room, Charlie placed her hands on her hips and sighed, “Alright, everyone, calm down. If you keep this up, I’ll be having you go across the floor right off the bat.”

“But, Charlie,” one of the stretching dancers argued, “we’re talking about Mick.”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “What do you think of her being pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Charlie repeated with a raised brow. “Where did you hear that?”

Murmured answers flitted around the room before settling as Alex spoke up, “We overheard Miles and Vivien talking about it.”

“Eavesdropping, were you?” Charlie admonished as she made her way further into the room.

“Not intentionally!” Rachel exclaimed. “We were walking by the music hall and overheard it.”

Making a mental note to talk with the pair about the situation at their next meal, Charlie sighed, “Well, that may be, but I haven’t heard anything about this, so I would advise you all to keep this to yourselves. Nobody likes having rumors spread about themselves.”

A chorus of reluctant “yes, ma’am”s filed the room and, as Charlie let out a sigh, she hoped she had squashed the rumors quickly enough that it wouldn’t spread around the dinner tables. With any luck, she’d be able to talk with Miles and Vivien before word spread too far. Usually, rumors at camp spread quietly and quickly, festering overnight into nonsense and plaguing everyone on the grounds within a day or two. If Charlie noticed it spreading much at all, she would try to find a way to sit Mick down and talk with her. She would need to prepare the girl for the onslaught of gossiping campers and concerned questions from her friends if the kids let it spread any further than it already had.

Clapping her hands together, Charlie brought herself back to the task at hand and declared, “Alright, everyone, find your place at the barre and get comfortable. We’re all going to feel the burn today.”

Despite Charlie’s best efforts, it had been impossible to find the chance to get Miles or Vivien away from everyone else before they headed to bed Monday night. She didn’t want it spreading more than she presumed it had, but Vivien was constantly with Royce and Bentley while Miles was practically attached to Carrie’s hip. They had spent the evening playing games and watching movies, giving Charlie little chance to speak her mind. When they were getting ready for bed, Charlie told Hayley about the situation. Hayley wouldn’t be able to do much to help as she was supposed to be helping in the office on Tuesday, but she promised that, if she heard anything, she would say something.

Charlie felt particularly tense at breakfast, overly focused on the noisy voices around the room as she tried to silently shield her niece’s friends from being the topic of conversation. It wasn’t until her wife nudged her, telling her the meal was over, that she finally moved, jerkily rising from her seat and disposing of the few pieces of egg that she had left on her plate. Stationed in the playhouse to help with makeup and choreography for the upcoming play, Charlie followed Carrie and Riven down the winding path to the old wooden building in relative silence.

While Riven got to work on helping set things up on stage, Charlie and Carrie headed to the storage room to dig out the makeup they would need for the day. Eyeing the blonde from her side of the little room, Charlie asked, “Carrie, you’re close with Mick, right?”

Turning toward the woman with the pink-tipped braids, Carrie shrugged with a smile, “I’d say we’re friends, but she’s closer with Miles than she is with me. Why, what’s up?”

Instead of directly answering, Charlie asked, “If Mick was pregnant, would she tell you?”

Carrie’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as she processed the sudden question, but eventually, she said, “I definitely wouldn’t be the first person on the list - maybe not even in the top five - but she might. Why, do you think she’s pregnant?”

Glancing out the door to make sure nobody was close enough to hear, Charlie lowered her voice to a whisper and asked, “Some girls came into the studio yesterday and were telling everyone that they overhead Miles and Vivien talking about Mick being pregnant. I wanted to see if they had said anything to you about it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Carrie said, “Like I said, I wouldn’t be in the top five, but they would be.” Carrie began counting on her fingers, “Butchy, her parents, Miles, and Vivien - I would assume those would be her top five. I can ask them, if you want?”

“No, no,” Charlie said with a shake of her head, “that’s fine. I just… I want to be careful with it regardless of whether it’s true or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charlie began as she hefted a metal case of makeup onto her hip, “if she’s not pregnant, we can help squash the rumors now before they get out of control. But, if Mick is pregnant, we need to keep an eye on her. She’s not showing and, depending on how far along she is, that can be detrimental.”

“How so?” Carrie asked, following Charlie through the backstage storage and into the dressing rooms. 

Setting the metal case on a nearby stand, Charlie sighed, “Back when Hayley was pregnant for Vivien, she never once showed. I was with her for most of the pregnancy - as a friend, at the time - and she went through hell. If Mick’s pregnant and is further along in her pregnancy, it could be dangerous for not only her, but for the baby as well.”

Carrie took in a slow breath as she soaked in the information, “Should I talk with Miles about it? See if he can tell me anything?”

“Not right now,” Charlie said. “Let him focus on music lessons. Besides, I haven’t heard anyone talking about it around camp, so I think we should be all set for now. We can talk with him and Vivien later, when they’re not busy banging around on the drums and we don’t have a bunch of makeup to sort through.”

As Charlie pulled a chair out from in front of one of the lightbulb-lined mirrors, Carrie followed suit with a hum. With the metal makeup case between them, Charlie unlatched the clasps and opened the lid before pulling out the extra trays so they could see all that was inside. Looking inside the case at all of the makeup, Carrie asked, “What are we going to do with all of this?”

Smiling at the blonde, Charlie took a lipgloss from the top shelf of the case and said, “We’re going to go through all of this and make sure it’s all still good. If something is good, we’ll try it out and make sure it still looks good. If it passes both tests, we’ll keep it. If it doesn’t, we toss it.”

Examining a tube of mascara, Carrie asked, “How are we going to check if they’re still good before we test if on ourselves?”

Charlie chuckled, “Do you see the little jar on there with a number and a letter on it?”

Carrie searched the tube before nodding, “Yeah, it says ‘6M’ on it.”

“That means it’s good for six months after it was opened.” Charlie looked for the little engraving mark on her lipgloss before setting it aside. “If it still has a wrapper or the receipt is in the little makeup bag at the bottom of the case, we’ll keep it. If not, its trash.”

“Got it,” Carrie said as she reached into the bottom section of the case and pulled out a black box. Carrie’s eyebrow raised as she read the box, “Conspiracy?”

Peering over at the younger girl, Charlie chuckled, “Oh, I remember that! Don’t throw that no matter what it says.”

Glancing up, Carrie asked, “How come?”

“It’s Vivien’s pride and joy,” Charlie claimed.

“But she doesn’t even wear makeup?” Carrie said curiously as she opened the palette.

“No, but she loves that thing,” Charlie smiled. “You see, she had watched this series online of this Youtuber guy and his friend - a makeup guru - making a palette together and that was the end product. She spent two hours waiting for it with me and Hayley, but it sold out within a half an hour. We were lucky enough to get the full set when it relaunched, but she keeps it here to keep Abby out of it.”

With a chuckle, Carrie looked over the shades and commented, “I can’t imagine she got into it at all.”

“She tried,” Charlie said, a ghost of a smile appearing as she reminisced. “She looked like a raccoon and cried before asking me for help.”

“Are you a self-proclaimed ‘makeup freak’ too, then?” Carrie asked.

“Hell yeah,” Charlie laughed. “Kind of have to be when you’re a dancer.”

“How long have you danced?”

Charlie thought for a moment before admitting, “Since I was two. My parents put me into ballet, aka the perfect breeding ground for eating disorders, anxiety, and the fear of imperfection.”

“Ah,” Carrie sighed as she set Vivien’s makeup aside and reached for something new, “been there, done that.”

Charlie set a container of powder aside and said, “You know, when I was younger it was more fun than anything, but once I was put into pointe, it was like I had stepped onto the world’s biggest slip-and-slide. One wrong move and I’d be ditched for the next best dancer.”

A sense of understanding washed over Carrie like a wave. She hadn’t felt overly close with Charlie before, but knowing they both had intense dancing backgrounds and still had lingering side effects from it, gave their budding friendship more depth. “The fear of failure is strong with every former dancer, I guess.”

Charlie hummed, “It must have been a fairly easy transition for you - going from dance to acting. The expressiveness and emotions you need to have on stage could translate well on screen, right?”

“I’d like to say so, yeah,” Carrie agreed. “Though, sometimes, I wish I could just turn my emotions off. It doesn’t take much for me to get all worked up over something small.”

“I can’t say I don’t feel the same way,” Charlie mused. “Although I find it easy to work my emotions into my books. Channeling them into something new helps force you to sort through them slower.”

Carrie thought about it for a moment before grinning, “I don’t think I could do something like that. Writing isn’t exactly my forte.”

With a shrug, Charlie said, “It’s the author in me, I suppose. However, if writing isn’t your thing, you could always try channeling it into music.” At Carrie’s skeptical gaze, Charlie smirked, “Don’t give me that face. I’ve heard you sing. You could really make something if you took the time to sit and work on it.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“And you think I did?” Charlie scoffed, “My first novel looked like a kindergartener wrote it compared to my work now. Nobody starts off great. Anyway, you could always ask Viv or Riven or even Erica for help; they all write music.”

Carrie nodded but then stalled as she reached into the makeup case. Curiously tipping her head to the side as she looked toward Charlie once more, she asked,l “I knew Riven and Erica wrote music, but since when has Vivien written music?”

“For years now,” Charlie claimed as she met the blonde’s blue eyes. “She doesn’t play them with the band muchas she can’t write the sheet music for them, but those journals of hers aren’t just filled with novel ideas. You should talk to her about it sometime. Maybe she’d show you some of her work.”

As Charlie got back to work sorting the makeup into two piles, Carrie hummed thoughtfully, “Maybe.”

“Maybe we can make a new one, but make it a bit bigger,” Carrie offered.

Bentley sighed, “And maybe I should stick with painting instead of pottery.”

As a majority of the playhouse crew had been taken to the carnival that Wednesday, Bentley had dragged Carrie to the art barn to show her his latest works while everyone else kept busy in their normal areas. His paintings, as always, were like something Bob Ross would come out with. Bentley felt at ease with painting; he could sit at an easel with a palette of colors and a set of brushes for hours without getting the least bit distracted. It was also something his brothers declared he shared with their mom - a love and natural talent for telling a story through paintings and sketches. His pottery work, on the other hand… Let’s just say that Bentley could have told everyone a seven-year-old made it and nobody would be able to tell it was his work.

The first few times Bentley had tried to make something with a mound of clay on the spinning wheel, they turned out to be understandably awful - a lopsided vase, a cracked bowl, and a statue of a dog that lost two legs and its tail in the kiln being among his efforts. However, his recent attempts appeared to turn out just the same. His first attempt at making a tea set for Mick had cracked and separated, and the potion bottle he wanted to make for Vivien’s birthday ended up getting damaged when another camper’s sculpture exploded and shattered everything inside the kiln. The mug he had tried to make for Miles was his most recent attempt and, while it still looked like a mug, it was now so small that it looked more like something Vivien would turn into a pair of earrings than it did an actual mug for drinking purposes.

Setting the miniature mug on the table, Bentley slouched into a chair with a huff as he glared at the shrunken pottery. Not willing to let the boy wallow in his thoughts, Carrie offered him a smile and said, “I think it looks great and Miles will too.”

A raised eyebrow answered Carrie as Bentley glanced up at her, “I can’t give that to him - it’s tiny.”

“And you and I both know that he would love it all the same.” As Carrie moved to sit at another pottery wheel, Bentley sighed, but remained quiet as she continued, “He loves everything you make for him and you know that.”

“I know,” Bentley muttered, “but I wanted this to be special.”

“And it still is.”

“How? He can’t drink out of it.”

“Yeah,” Carrie agreed, “but he can use it as a Christmas ornament in a few months.”

Bentley snorted despite himself, the thought of the little mug dangling from their living room tree dancing through his mind. Finally shifting his gaze from the cup to the blonde across from him, Bentley grinned, “He would.”

“I know.” Carrie smiled at the boy before flicking her hair over her shoulder and chuckling, “I wouldn’t put it past him to use that as the star on top with how much he loves caffeine.”

Feeling a bit better about how his failed pottery had turned out, Bentley breathed, “I guess it won’t be a total loss if I give it to him looking like this.”

“Exactly,” Carrie said with a nod. “He’ll love it regardless. And, if you decide to make another, you’ll know to make it a bit bigger.”

“I guess so, yeah,” Bentley agreed. Taking in a deep breath as he stood, Bentley asked, “So, what do you wanna do? We can paint or draw or make awful sculptures of each other, if you want. I’d offer you a photoshoot, but that’s more Royce’s expertise than mine.”

“That’s fine,” Carrie chuckled. “I don’t think I have the artistic abilities to do much of anything here.”

Bentley moved over to the wall of blank canvases and pulled a pair of small ones down as he turned to Carrie once more, “Come on, it’ll be fun. We can hang out and talk while we paint.”

As Bentley set up a pair of easels, Carrie let out a hesitant laugh, “I doubt mine will look anything like yours.”

“It doesn’t have to be good,” Bentley stated. “So long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.”

“Are you sure?” Carrie asked as she stood. “I mean, I’d be more than willing to just watch if you want to make something. You know, that way I don’t waste paint on something terrible.”

“As long as the paint goes on the canvas, it’s not a waste,” Bentley insisted. “Besides, we can make anything; nature scenes, a fictional world, or, I don’t know, maybe we could paint ourselves as superheroes or something.”

While Bentley got to work collecting paints to place on a tray between the two easels, Carrie’s train of thought screeched to a halt at the boy’s words. Looking over at the teenager with a smile, Carrie slowly sat down on one of the stools Bentley had pulled over and said, “That reminds me, I actually have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh yeah?” Bentley asked, glancing at Carrie before returning to the tub of assorted paint tubes before him. “What about?”

“Before we left home, I got a call from my manager.”

Hefting the container of paints onto a rolling table between the easels, Bentley looked at Carrie with an almost nervous chuckle, “You’re not getting fired or something, are you?”

Letting out a shocked bark of laughter, Carrie reached over and shoved Bentley’s shoulder, “No!”

Giggling, Bentley said, “Well, you never know!”

With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Carrie shook her head and said, “That’s not it at all. Actually, it’s pretty much the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“A film company I hadn’t heard of before reached out and offered me a role in their new show,” Carrie explained.

“That’s great,” Bentley said with a brilliant smile. “What’s it about?”

“All I know about it is that it’s an assassin show,” Carrie claimed. “However, the only down side is that it’s going to be filming almost exclusively in Europe.”

“Europe?” Bentley repeated. When Carrie nodded, he asked, “What, like England or Scotland?”

“I know part of filming will be in the UK,” Carrie mused, “but for the character they want me to portray, filming would primarily be in Russia, Belarus, or Ukraine.”

Bentley allowed Carrie’s words to sink in, processing them slowly as he uttered, “That’s a long way from home.”

Carrie sighed, “I know. That’s sort of why I haven’t told Miles that they want me signed on.”

“Miles doesn’t know?”

“Not yet, no.” Carrie took in a deep breath before admitting, “I sort of wanted to get your reaction before telling him.”

“Well, I think it’s a great opportunity for you, but I think we both know how Miles will react,” Bentley said. “He’ll be happy for you no matter what. Just remember that he’ll probably end up going to the library to do as much research on your filming locations as possible. Remember what he was like when he had to decide which school to put me and Royce into?”

Of course, Carrie knew all too well. Miles had spent hours upon hours looking into the local schools, trying to figure out which one would be best for his brothers. After work, he would go to the library and research the local schools and their programs, searching for any hint of safety issues or cases of bullying. Royce and Bentley had to ride their bicycles to the library more than once to pry him away when it was almost closing time. After basically interrogating Lela about her old school and trying to see which schools had the best art and literature classes, he finally settled on one and signed all of the application papers overnight, falling asleep at the kitchen table with some of the papers stuck to his face and his pen still in hand. When Carrie showed up to pick Miles up for work the next morning, it took Bentley grabbing the spray bottle from the bathroom and filling it with frigid water to wake him from his slumber.

“Yeah,” Carrie said slowly as she nodded.

“That was just him figuring out a local school for us,” Bentley reminded her. “We weren’t going anywhere out of the state. So, when the time comes and you finally tell him, just know that he’ll be so much worse than that.”

Wondering just how bad it would be, Carrie sat silently, her gaze drifting as she allowed images of Miles scouring shelves of old books and frantically asking Mick and Vivien for help researching things on their phones to fill her mind. Eventually, her gaze drifted back toward Bentley and the two shared a nervous smile before dissolving into laughter. For a while, joy filled the room, filling the silent gaps in conversation that had once lingered between the pair. Eventually, the laughter began to fade and, as Carrie looked to Bentley once more, she sighed, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Bentley snickered, “A few months of pestering questions and nonstop research.”

“At least,” Carrie chuckled with a shake of her head. Taking in a breath, Carrie thought of Miles’ tendency to look into every possibility with a fine-toothed comb and wondered aloud, “I wonder if he’ll do the same for Mick when the time comes.”

“What do you mean?”

Snapping her gaze from the canvas before her to the blond boy beside her, Carrie cleared her throat and said, “It’s nothing, really. It’s just…” she sighed, “Charlie told me that some girls in the dance studio were talking about Mick being pregnant. It’s probably just a rumor, but I was just thinking how Miles would react if he she told him.”

“People really think she’s going to have a baby?” Bentley asked incredulously. “That’s crazy!”

“I thought so too, but there’s no telling,” Carrie claimed with a shrug. “Charlie thinks it could go either way.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“I wonder if anyone else has heard about it,” Bentley said thoughtfully.

Carrie shrugged, “If the campers know, it’s probably spreading through camp as we speak.”

“Probably,” Bentley breathed. He would have to talk to Royce about it later on as he sometimes left the library door open for fresh air. If anyone walked by and was talking about it, he would hear it from the desk. With a shake of his head, Bentley grabbed a palette from the table between himself and Carrie and held it out for her to take. “You ready to get your paint on?”

Carrie eyed the colorfully stained palette before reaching up to take it with a smile, “Absolutely.”

Royce sighed as he ran his towel over his dripping curls. He was going to take a shower that night anyway, but after being unceremoniously shoved into the lake by Riven, he had gone inside to take a shower before they started playing games. Riven had caught him staring at Vivien - a normal occurrence, he thought - and his girlfriend’s skating partner chose to tease him about it when his girlfriend left the pier to help her aunts bring coolers of drinks down from the parking lot. After a while of back-and-forth, Riven gave Royce a nudge, and, needless to say, he was unprepared for it. 

Tripping over the uneven planks, Royce had plunged into the cool lake, scaring off a nearby school of fish as the water enveloped him. Glancing out of the window near his bed as he sat down, Royce huffed; the trail of water he left from the edge of the pier to the front door of their cabin was still faintly visible in the fading sunlight. While it would be gone in the morning, Royce doubted his embarrassment would be. By the time he had resurfaced, Riven was folded over on the dock, laughing like a hyena. Bentley and Erica were no better as they took one look at each other and burst into laughter, only resorting to poorly disguised snickers when Jade elbowed them both in the ribs. Miles and Butchy hauled him up on the pier with matching smirks that told him they wouldn’t be letting it go for at least a day or two. 

As Vivien and her aunts made their way down the beach toward them, Royce ducked past Carrie and Mick and gave a halfhearted response to his girlfriend’s question as to where he was going before ducking into the log cabin they were staying in and allowing the door to slam shut behind himself. Now that he’d had the chance to simmer and wallow in his mortification, Royce wondered if the red tinting his skin was due to the hot water or the embarrassment he still felt pulsing through his veins. Despite the mint-scented body wash he’d practically caked himself in, he could still smell the strong odor of seaweed and fish in the air. Royce sighed; maybe he had gotten water up his nose.

A knock on Royce’s door drew his attention away from his misery and he cleared his throat before asking, “Who is it?”

“Just me.” 

Bentley. Royce took in a deep breath and said, “Come in.”

The handle twisted and Bentley pushed his way into the room with a grin before closing the heavy door behind him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Royce offered. “Did you guys start without me?”

“Of course not,” Bentley chuckled as he moved to sit beside his brother, “but Mickie wants us to watch a video before we play Mafia, so I said I’d come see if you were ready to join.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Royce said as he set his towel aside. “I just hope they’re alright with me still smelling like fish.”

“Ah,” Bentley breathed with a smirk, “so that’s what that smell is.”

Shoving Bentley, Royce chuckled, “Shut up.”

Bentley let out a short laugh, “Seriously, though, you smell fine.”

“Well, good, ‘cause I’m sitting next to you.”

“Oh no!” Bentley gasped dramatically. “Whatever shall I do? I’ll have to deal with you smelling like three-day-old sushi all night.”

“You are such a dick.”

“I can’t be a dick, my name’s not Richard.”

Royce shook his head with a laugh, “Whoever decided Dick was a good name for Richard, clearly hated people named Richard.”

“I know, right,” Bentley chuckled. Pushing himself to his feet, Bentley nudged Royce with the back of his hand and asked, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“You’d better hurry or I’ll eat your peanut butter M&Ms.”

With a roll of his eyes, Royce grabbed his towel and stood, “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

As Bentley reached the door, his hand wrapped around the handle, he turned back to Royce and asked, “Hey, um, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Royce said as he tossed his towel into the hamper beside his dresser.

Taking in a contemplative breath, Bentley asked, “Have you noticed anything different with Mick lately?”

Glancing over as he took a pair of shorts and a shirt from his dresser, Royce shrugged, “Not that I know of, why?”

“People are saying she’s pregnant.”

“Really?” When Bentley nodded, Royce asked, “Who did you hear that from?”

Knowing how quickly Royce would dismiss the thought if he said where he truly heard it from, Benltey said, “Some campers. I guess it’s been passing around camp.”

Royce thought for a moment before sighing, “We live with her; I think we would know if she was pregnant.”

“Maybe, but maybe she and Butchy wanted to keep it a secret and someone overheard them talking about it,” Bentley suggested.

The more Royce thought about it, the more things made sense. He knew how fast rumors spread - Vivien’s friendship with Noah being one that was spun into a mess. If Mick and Butchy truly were going to have a baby and someone overheard them talking, it wouldn’t be long before the whole camp knew. Even if they weren’t and someone had made it up, it wouldn’t take long for the camp-wide game of Telephone to make its rounds. Besides, if anyone else had noticed her exhaustion as of late, her few-and-far-between coffee refills at breakfast, or the way she no longer stole pickles from Butchy’s plate during meals, that would only contribute to the way things were spiraling.

“Maybe we should ask and see if anyone has seen a difference in her,” Royce suggested as he set his clothes for the next day on his desk chair.

“I asked Erica and Jade if they noticed anything,” Bentley said, “and Erica said she hadn’t noticed anything, but Jade noticed she’s been having stomach pains lately.”

Royce nodded thoughtfully as he joined Bentley by the door, “I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on her. Maybe I’ll talk to Miles tomorrow and see if he knows anything.”

“He’s her best friend,” Bentley mused as he pulled the door open. “He and Butchy would be at the top of the list of people Mick would tell.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Royce agreed as he followed Bentley to the stairs.

Royce’s day had gotten off to a pretty good start. Despite sleeping in far later than he usually did, almost everything had gone well. The mess hall had his favorite omelets for breakfast, the library was practically empty up to lunch, and some of the other staff had helped put together a makeshift carnival on the soccer field for everyone to have fun that afternoon. A trampoline Vivien claimed they had borrowed from her grandparents’ house was on one side of the field, a rented slip-and-slide was on the other end, and a myriad of games littered the area. The only other activity that had been set up was a water balloon fight; buckets filled with peltable balloons were arranged in a row stretching across the grass at the bottom of the fence that surrounded the playground off to the side of the field. 

As Royce wandered aimlessly through the field, he spotted his older brother crouching behind a piece of the wooden play structure, water balloon in hand. Making his way over to the wooden fence that separated the playground from the soccer field, Royce watched as a small girl Royce knew usually stayed in the back corner of the library, poked her head around the rock climbing wall and chucked a green balloon in Miles’ general direction before ducking back behind the wall. Just as Royce was about to call out to Miles, he heard another child laugh and watched a balloon sail just over Miles’ head. Miles peered over the wooden planks that sheltered him and quickly threw his balloon, watching it nail a kid who was no older than ten as he crossed an exposed bridge.

“Ah!” the kid shrieked as water burst across his shirt.

Another kid climbed up on the monkey bars to get a better view, but before they could make their shot at Miles, Royce called, “Hey, Miles!” As the kids stalled and Miles turned to see who wanted him, Royce asked, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Miles nodded, turning and raising his arms in surrender before calling out to the kids, “Hey, guys? I’m tapping out!”

“Come on!” the kid on the monkey bars moaned as Miles stood.

“For how long?” another whined.

“Dunno,” Miles replied as he shrugged. Despite the children’s grumbling complaints, Miles walked over to the fence Royce leaned against with a smile and lowered his voice as he asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

“I, uh, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Alright,” Miles nodded, “go ahead.”

Royce glanced over to where Mick was standing with Butchy, utterly annihilating him at the ring toss station, before looking back to Miles. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’m just going to ask.” Royce took in a deep breath and sighed, “Do you think there’s any way Mick could be pregnant?”

Although he appeared taken aback, Miles glanced over at Mick and Butchy and thought for a moment before meeting Royce’s eyes and asking, “Where did this come from?”

“Bentley,” Royce replied. “He said he heard a few campers talking about it yesterday and that it could be just a rumor, but from what I’ve seen, it could be true.”

Letting out a slow breath, Miles asked, “What have you seen?”

Royce took in a breath to organize his thoughts before he began, “She’s not drinking energy drinks anymore and she’s having a lot less coffee at breakfast, she hasn’t been eating much of anything and can’t look at certain foods without gagging, and even Jade says that Mick’s been having a lot of stomach pains lately.”

“And both you and Ben think that means she could be pregnant?”

“I looked it up on my phone while I was at my post earlier and the symptoms are very similar.”

Miles spared another glance at Mick as she dragged Butchy to yet another booth with a gleaming smile on her face. Taking a good look at his friend, he wanted nothing more than to dispute Royce’s claim. She looked fine! Not that pregnancy would make her look bad, by any means, but she looked the same as she always did. Shaking his head, he asked, “And Bentley was sure he heard them correctly?”

Royce nodded, humming in confirmation, “He seemed worried about her, so I’d say so, yeah.”

“I’ll try asking him about it later, maybe he’ll remember who it was that said it and we can go from there.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

Just as Royce was about to head back to the makeshift carnival, a pain flared against his shoulder as he felt water splash across his face and down his arm. “Ow!” he yelled, sending a glare at the cockily-smirking girl who threw and caught another water balloon. 

“What the fuck?” Miles called to the kids as they laughed from their places on the play structure.

“I’m not even playing!” Royce called.

“‘Cause you’re a chicken?” a boy called back.

“Chicken!” the girl with the devilish smile taunted.

“You’re a chicken, Royce!” another kid called.

As the children continued their teasing in the hopes of goading Royce into playing, Royce sighed, “Sometimes, I really hate those kids.”

Miles turned to Royce with a smirk and nodded toward the kids, lowering his voice as he asked, “You want to fuck them up?”

Royce took a look around and, noting that everyone was a pretty good distance from them, nodded as he turned back to Miles, “Yeah, I do.”

With a proud grin, Miles turned back toward the kids and began walking back to his previous spot as he called out, “You asked for it!”

“Better run, you little rugrats!” Royce called as he climbed over the fence.

Filing into the mess hall with damp shirts and laughter on their lips, Miles and Royce made their way to the end of the line to grab trays and fill them with food. After grabbing a tray, Royce took off, telling Miles he was going to talk to Vivien before disappearing down the line. Miles shook his head with a fond smile, glad his brother found happiness in little moments with his girlfriend. After grabbing some mac and cheese from its tin, Miles rounded a few campers and found himself next to Bentley as his youngest brother shoveled steak tips onto his plate.

“Let me guess,” Miles began, making Bentley jump, “you’re planning on drowning that in ketchup.”

“Absolutely,” Bentley beamed. “And you’ll pour that nasty steak sauce on yours like you always do.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not nasty, you just have no taste buds,” Miles said. “And, second of all, yes, yes, I will.”

As Bentley’s face contorted into one of disgust, he handed the tongs to Miles and muttered, “Gross.”

Rolling his eyes with a smile, Miles grabbed some steak from the tin it sat in. Glancing at his youngest brother, Miles lowered his voice and said, “You know, I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Bentley turned to Miles before quickly sighing, his eyes closing in defeat as he said, “If this is about the salamander, I swear, I had nothing to do with it.”

Miles turned toward Bentley again and asked, “What salamander?”

Searching his brother’s eyes for any sign of deception, Bentley slowly said, “I take it Carrie didn’t tell you.”

“No,” Miles said. “Why? What happened?”

Letting out a snort, Bentley recalled, “She and I were walking to the cabin so we could make sure we had stuff for the movie tonight and, on the way back, Carrie went to take a drink of her water and found that a little lizard had climbed onto her bottle.”

“And you had nothing to do with it?” Miles asked skeptically.

“Of course not,” Bentley replied. “Carrie and I have actually been getting along. If Royce had been there, I would have blamed him, but he was with you, so…”

“So the lizard just wanted a drink, huh?”

“Guess so.”

Heaving a sigh as he joined Bentley at the juice bowl, Miles said, “Anyway, that wasn’t what I was hoping to talk with you about.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Bentley chuckled. “So, what do you wanna talk about?”

“I was talking with Royce earlier and he said you told him there’s a rumor that Mick might be pregnant,” Miles stated. “I was just wondering if you knew which campers were spreading it around?”

“Well,” Bentley began, heaving a thoughtful sigh as he looked up at his brother, “the thing is, I didn’t overhear it from some campers.”

“You didn’t?” When Bentley shook his head, Miles asked, “Why did you tell Royce you had?”

Bentley sighed, “I didn’t want to say anything to Royce because I knew he would deny it if he knew who really told me. He’d probably say she was just spreading crap around or something, but I knew it was true and I didn’t want him to just brush it off.”

It didn’t take Miles long to figure out who his youngest brother was talking about. “You heard it from Carrie?”

“Yeah, she and I talked about it yesterday,” Bentley said with a nod. “She said that Charlie told her some girls in the dance studio were talking about it.”

Glancing at the table they normally sat at, Miles was glad to see the table had yet to be filled with their cabin’s inhabitants, but both of Vivien’s aunts had already claimed their normal seats. Then, just as Miles was preparing to make his way over and question Charlie himself, Mick and Butchy made their way to their seats and began conversing with the older women. Turning back to his brother, Miles asked, “Tonight, when Charlie and Hayley are making snacks for movie night, can you keep the others away so I can talk to them?”

Raising his hand to his forehead in a mock salute, Bentley smiled, “Aye aye, captain.”

Chuckling, Miles reached up and ran a hand through Bentley’s hair, ruffling it as he turned and headed for the table they typically dined at. Sitting down at his usual spot, he briefly wondered if Mick knew about the circulating rumors or if it had been a rumor at all. If her beaming smile and boundless laughter at Hayley’s terrible jokes were anything to go by, he doubted the brunette knew anything of the rumors. However, he couldn’t be sure. Mick’s tendency to laugh during awkward situations made it hard to tell what she did or didn’t know. Even if she was pregnant and had chosen to keep it a secret, he wondered if the rumors floating around would have any effect on her. She took almost everything to heart.

Miles inwardly sighed; he would just have to wait and find out for himself.

The smell of popcorn and the sound of laughter filled the cabin as Miles stepped inside. While everyone else was outside, playing ninja on the end of the pier and pushing the losers into the lake, Miles had slipped away in the hopes of finding Charlie and Hayley alone in the house. Just as he had presumed, they were in the kitchen, sitting on the countertops with cups of green juice that looked almost radioactive.

“Hey, Miles,” Hayley greeted, raising her cup slightly as Charlie waved. 

“Hey,” he said in return.

“Did Viv send you in to ask about the snacks?” she asked with a knowing smirk. Before he could answer, Hayley chuckled, “She knows I won’t give her a straight answer, so she sends her friend instead - the little shit.”

Before Miles could say anything to the contrary, Charlie smiled and said, “The popcorn isn’t in yet, but the pretzels are almost done.”

“That’s good,” Miles said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Viv didn’t send me in, though.”

“Oh,” Hayley said, “that’s surprising.”

“What did you come in for?” Charlie asked. “A drink, some chips, maybe to save me from my wife’s terrible puns.”

Hayley scoffed, placing a hand over her heart as though she’d been stabbed, “My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Yeah, they are.”

“You laughed, asshole.”

“It was a pity laugh.”

“Bullshit,” Hayley laughed.

With a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh, Charlie turned her focus back to Miles and smiled as she asked, “Anyway, what do you need, sweetheart?”

“I was actually hoping to ask you something,” Miles admitted.

“Me?” Charlie asked, pointing to herself. Miles hummed in confirmation. “Well, in that case, I’m all ears.”

Taking in a deep breath, Miles sighed as he slowly recounted, “Royce told me that Bentley said that Carrie told him that you said you heard people talking about Mick being pregnant. I was wondering if you knew who was talking about it?”

As Charlie thought it over, her eyebrow raised and she lowered her cup of juice to the counter beside her as she said, “Some girls in the studio were talking about it, yeah, but they said that they heard it from you and Vivien.”

“What?” Miles wondered. “But I just found out about it today.”

Charlie glanced down, allowing herself to think over what had happened in the last week. Slowly, she claimed, “On Monday, I was instructing ballet and jazz. Dina Woodward injured her wrist and I stepped out with her to wrap it. When I came back, everyone in the studio was giggling and talking. A group of girls said they went by the music hall on their way in and overheard you and Vivien talking about Mick being pregnant.”

Miles allowed the woman’s words to sink in as he tried to recall what happened on Monday. He and Vivien had been in the music hall, playing guitar, talking, and relaxing as rain pelted the area. Vivien had been particularly tired that day, nearly falling asleep on Miles' shoulder as they sat in silence. Then, as the timer for the pretzels dinged, it hit him. While Miles was worrying about the possibility of rain coming through the ceiling, Vivien had asked him a question about the chance of Mick being pregnant, listing off her reasoning for thinking about it. While they were talking, the wind had slammed the door. However, Vivien had checked it and they moved on like nothing happened. Maybe it hadn’t been the wind. Maybe it had been the campers listening in.

“We started all of this,” he admitted softly. With a heavy sigh, Miles said, “I have to go tell Vivien so we can stop the rumors.”

As Hayley pulled the tray of pretzels from the oven, she requested, “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.”

“What?” Miles asked. “Why?”

Charlie hopped down from the counter and crossed over to Miles, resting a hand on his arm as she replied for her wife, “Tonight, we’re supposed to be relaxing with some good movies and good snacks. Let everyone take some time to breathe - yourself included - and you can worry about it tomorrow.”

“But-”

Charlie was quick to cut him off, reaching up and cupping Miles’ cheek in her free hand to draw his attention to her words, “But it will still be an issue tomorrow and everyone will still be understanding tomorrow. Take the night to enjoy time with the family. Rumors at camp don’t last, but memories with your family do. You can work things out with everyone tomorrow, but give yourself time to process it for now.”

“Yeah,” Hayley agreed as she moved to stand beside her wife as Charlie patted Miles’ shoulder comfortingly. “Besides, Vivien will go into a full-tilt frenzy trying to make things right and, if you start that tonight, that poor child won’t sleep. If you tell her in the morning, she’ll have enough energy to fuss about it all day.”

“Hails,” Charlie gently reprimanded, elbowing the woman beside her.

“What?” Hayley asked rhetorically, a laugh falling from her lips as she returned to the counter to salt the pretzels. “It’s the truth. She’s just like me and we both know it.”

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, Charlie turned back to Miles and smiled, “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. I know you want to fix this here and now, but you and I both know you want Vivien’s help since you both are, somehow, at the start of it.”

“Yeah,” Miles admitted in a breath.

“So, like Hayley said, I think you should wait,” Charlie claimed. “It will still be there tomorrow and you can work on it together without having to deal with a sleep-deprived, caffeine-riddled Vivien stumbling through the grounds like Jack Sparrow on dry land.”

Letting out a snicker at the mental image of Vivien fumbling her way through the camp with a bullhorn, shouting incoherent claims in the hopes of clearing Mick’s reputation, Miles chuckled, “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be the greatest way to handle things.”

“Mhm,” Charlie hummed, patting Miles' hand as she turned and grabbed a stack of cups from the counter. “Now, take these out and hand them to everyone. We’ll be out in a few with snacks and drinks and then we can start the movie.”

“Are you sure you guys don’t need help?” Miles offered.

“Are you a psychiatrist?” Hayley asked as she set a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

Miles’ head tipped curiously to the side as his eyebrow raised and he slowly replied, “No?”

“Then, no, I think we’re all set,” Hayley chirped as the microwave whirred to life.

Rolling her eyes once more, Charlie pushed the cups into Miles’ hands and said, “Take these and run before you’re subjected to any of her horrendous jokes.”

Miles chuckled, taking the cups and heading toward the hallway, “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

As the popcorn began sizzling in the microwave, Hayley turned to Charlie, leaned against the counter, and asked, “If my jokes are so bad, why do you always laugh?”

“Because I love you,” Charlie answered with ease as she sidled her way up to her wife.

“And here I thought you found me funny.”

“Funny looking, maybe,” Charlie teased, “but those puns of yours are just plain terrible, my dear.”

Placing the back of her hand to her forehead and letting out a gasp of air, Hayley whined, “Oh, how you wound me!”

“Drama queen.”

“Fun hater.”

“Oh yeah?” Charlie said. When Hayley nodded, Charlie asked, “Do you know what the leading cause of divorce is?”

Curious, Hayley offered, “A lack of humor in a relationship?”

“Nope,” Charlie said with a shake of her head before leaning up and kissing Hayley on the cheek. “A stalemate.”

As Charlie took the bag of popcorn from the microwave and opened it to pour it into a bowl, Hayley processed the joke, her jaw slowly opening in shock, “Holy shit; was that a fucking pun?!”

“You know,” Vivien mused, “when Carrie told me to break a leg, this wasn’t what I thought she meant.”

In place of their usual day of recreation and rehearsals, that Friday was spent challenging the campers and staff alike. Unlike many of their previous days filled with activities, The Gauntlet - as the campers had begun calling it - had taken place at the amphitheatre and, as many expected, many workers had signed on to participate. Between the ropes course, the speed challenge, the scavenger hunt, and the climbing wall, everyone had their work cut out for themselves in one way or another. While the campers competed in teams, the staff were left to fend for themselves.

It was to no one’s surprise that Vivien had signed up to compete; her boundless energy and competitive nature boiled over when she found both Riven’s and Noah’s names on the sign-up sheet. What was surprising, however, was the fact that she ended up getting injured. Despite making it through the race in the top three and finding everything on her scavenger hunt list with relative ease, it was the ropes course that had been Vivien’s downfall. Near the end of the course, her foot had slipped on the wooden planks, sending her flying into the podium, and she narrowly avoided slamming face-first into the trunk of a tree. 

Riven had managed to get her down after she quickly discovered how painful standing was, but as the auburn-haired skater was next in line for the next segment of the challenge, Miles had offered to take Vivien to the health center to see how bad her injury truly was. That was where they could be found, Miles hitching Vivien further up in his piggyback hold as he made his way to the front entrance of the health center. 

Miles chuckled, “I highly doubt you’ve broken anything.”

“I know, but still,” Vivien shrugged. “It’s a good thing I got to know her before Royce’s impression of Carrie infected my brain.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” the brunette hummed. “Otherwise, I would’ve said she put some ancient curse on me or something.”

Miles let out a snort as he paused to glance over his shoulder at the younger girl, “An ancient curse? Really?”

“I’m from New England, the home of literal witches,” Vivien deadpanned. “At this point, anything’s possible.”

With an amused shake of his head, Miles chuckled, “Yeah, I can’t see Carrie as a witch.”

“I could,” Vivien said with a smirk as Miles pushed the health center door open with his shoe. At Miles’ curious look, she said, “Tell me she wouldn’t be an incredible Sarah Sanderson.”

“That’s the one from Hocus Pocus, right?” Miles asked as he nudged his way further into the building. “The one who they push into the street to see if it kills them?”

“Yeah!” Vivien chirped as Miles set her on one of the beds. “You know, the blonde who sings to draw everyone in with her magic. Carrie would be incredible as her.”

As Miles pulled a stool over to sit on, he nodded, smiling at Vivien as he sat before her, “I could see that working out.”

“Just wait until I have her watch those with me after my birthday,” Vivien chuckled. “I give her an hour before she starts planning to have you two dress up as Sarah and Billy for halloween.”

“An hour?” Miles chuckled with a shake of his head. “Half an hour, maybe, but I doubt she’d wait an entire hour.”

Vivien smiled as she worked on untying her shoes, “Yeah, true. Maybe she, Mick, and I could go as the Sanderson sisters this year.”

“I thought you, Royce, and Bentley were going as Stranger Things characters.”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Vivien shrugged. “I wanted to go as Max or Robin and Royce was going as Steve or Dustin. Bentley wanted to go as Will, but then he saw the demogorgon costume and now that’s up in the air. But, if they can’t decide before we go to Spirit Halloween, I’m going to just go with the girls and they can fend for themselves.”

Miles let out a snort as Vivien dropped her shoe to the floor, “Then I’ll have to listen to them whining for the foreseeable future.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

Miles chuckled and shook his head, “Speaking of problems, we need to talk about something, but first, can you move your foot at all?”

Vivien sucked in a breath and winced as she moved her foot around in a slow circle, “Yeah, but it hurts.”

“Alright, so it’s definitely not broken,” he mused, “but it could be a sprain or a twist.”

“My bet’s on a sprain,” Vivien commented. “Even with a twist, I can stand and put weight on it.”

Miles looked around, “Do you know where they keep the crutches?”

Raising a hand, Vivien pointed to a closet on the far wall, “In there. The code for the lock is nineteen-seventy-three - the year Nonna and Grandpa George got married.”

Miles stood and made his way to the closet, setting the lock aside and opening the door before grabbing a set of crutches and making his way back to Vivien. “How tall are you?” he asked as he examined the slider at the bottom of the metal crutches.

“Five-eight,” she replied. As Miles got to work on adjusting her crutches, Vivien used a sigh to blow her hair from her face and asked, “So, what problems do we need to talk about?”

Glancing up at the girl before him, Miles took in a breath and asked, “Do you remember the other day when you and I were talking about Mick being pregnant?”

The brunette thought for a moment before slowly nodding, “Uh, yeah, why? Is she?”

“No,” Miles said before pausing. “Actually, I don’t know. What I do know is that a group of campers overheard us and has been spreading a rumor around camp that Mick’s pregnant.”

Vivien let out a humorless chuckle, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was.”

“How did you find out about it?” she asked.

“Royce told me and Bentley had told him,” Miles stated. “I guess Bentley heard it from Carrie who heard it from Charlie who heard it when the campers went to the dance studio after overhearing us talk about it.”

Vivien thought about the chain of events before recalling, “When the door slammed and I went to check it, there were campers running to the dance studio, but they were far enough away that I thought it couldn’t have been them.”

“Well, I guess it actually was.” Miles set the crutches aside for Vivien and looked up at her before saying, “Now, we have to fix it.”

Vivien nodded slowly, “We should talk to Mick first and get things straight. If the rumor is about her, she should know about it.”

“Yeah, and even if she’s actually pregnant, it would be best to get the story straight,” Miles agreed.

Vivien nodded, but before she could say anything more, the door to the health center opened and Butchy stepped inside, sending the pair a smile as he asked, “How’s everything going?”

Miles was the first to answer, “It’s probably a sprain.”

“I’ll be fine after a day or two,” Vivien shrugged. “I’ve sprained my foot before and it never lasts long if I take a day off of it.”

“Alright,” Butchy said with a small grin, “in that case, consider yourself crutch-bound for the next few days.”

“It’s going to suck at the carnival tomorrow,” Vivien sighed, “but that’s what I get for doing stupid shit.”

Fighting the instinct to tell the teenager off for swearing when a child could walk in at any minute, Butchy chuckled and leaned against the bed next to her, “We’ll work something out for you tomorrow, piccola. One of those air casts or a brace, maybe.”

“Maybe.” Vivien shrugged, “As long as I get to go on the Tilt-A-Whirl, I’ll be fine with whatever.”

Butchy reached up, bringing an arm around Vivien’s shoulders with a smile, “Atta girl. You feel up to going back to the amphitheatre and watching the rest of the competition?”

“It might take me a while to get there,” Vivien snickered as she took her new metallic friends and settled them under her arms, “but yeah. Are Noah and Riven still in it?”

“Noah lost the ropes course to Riven, but that’s all I know,” Butchy claimed as he stood.

As Vivien stood and began hobbling her way to the door she turned to Miles and asked, “Are you coming?”

Miles smiled, “Yeah, I just have to lock up the closet again. I’ll meet you along the way.”

“Okay,” she said, allowing Butchy to take the lead as she made her way outside.

Once the closet was locked up once again, Miles pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his messages. Finding his last conversation with Mick, he typed, 'Can we talk later? In private?'

It wasn’t long before he got a reply, 'Of course, why, what’s up?'

'Too much to type. Meet in the playhouse after dinner?'

'Sure, see you there.'

It wasn’t often that Butchy found himself walking back to the cabin without Mick by his side, however, as he had kitchen duty that week, he had told her to just head out while he got to work cleaning up. Though the air outside the mess hall was still thick with humidity, the sky had begun to darken and cool the heat of the day. The amount of plates covered in chili and melted cheese had made his fingertips turn to raisins in the soapy sink water and the steam from the hot water made him feel as though he’d been working in a sauna, but the cooler outside air was a welcoming contrast to the heat of the wooden building. Taking in a deep breath, Butchy sighed as a breeze blew by, urging him to make his way back to the lodge he resided in.

He wondered what everyone was up to. They wouldn’t have a game night or movie night without him there as they only ever spent those nights as a whole group. Maybe they were sitting around the living room, doing their own thing. Mick would probably be reading in her corner of the couch while Miles and Riven talked music on the opposite end. Charlie, Jade, and Carrie would most likely be found painting each others’ faces in jelly masks while Bentley and Royce would be on the floor with Vivien, talking about things they only ever talked about together. If he had to guess, Erica and Hayley would be talking off to the side. For some reason, the unlikely pair had grown close after Erica discovered Hayley was the wild child in her family and Butchy had seen the two talking a lot as of late.

Letting out a long breath, Butchy pushed his hair back and began the walk home. Normally the walk went by quickly as everyone chattered about their days and the camper drama they had heard. However, as cicadas chirped in the bushes and the faint buzz of the sparse overhead lights, the journey felt as though it would take a lifetime. A few cabins still had campers and counselors lingering outside, chatting as they dreaded the call of lights out, but many kept their doors closed as they prepared for the evening. 

Pushing his way through a line of bushes, Butchy took a shortcut between the health center and the playhouse, glancing toward the health center to make sure the lights were off before continuing toward the playhouse. Spotting a light on through one of the side windows, Butchy made his way to the back of the building, opened the screen door, and pushed his way inside before pulling out his cell phone for a flashlight. Just as he flicked it on, he heard a voice from the main hall where a performance would be rehearsed for the next week.

Choosing to not call out in case it was just people cleaning, Butchy made his way through the back rooms before stepping through the doorway that led to the back of the stage. As he got closer, the voices got louder and, before long, he could make out a set of distinct voices. A heavy sigh came from the main room before he heard a familiar voice say, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Mick? What was she doing in the playhouse at this hour? Was she helping someone run lines? Then another voice cut through Butchy’s thoughts, “I wish I was.”

Miles. Since when did he have anything to do with the play? He hated being on stage. Before Butchy could peer around the curtains of the stage to see what was going on, his hand stilled in the air and another voice filled the air, “I mean, at least you found out from us first and not from some random campers, right?”

Vivien’s question gave Butchy pause. As far as he could recall, Hairspray didn’t have a summer camp. Whatever they were discussing, had nothing to do with the play. Lowering his hand, Butchy listened as his wife scoffed, “Still! Half the camp thinks I’m pregnant and I had no clue! Is that why everyone’s been asking me if I’m okay and checking on me all the time?”

“Probably,” Vivien said. “It could just be that they were worried about you.”

“Why would they be?” Mick pressed. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t eating well and you got nauseous at breakfast almost every day,” Miles stated. 

Mick let out a sigh and Butchy could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as she huffed, “I started my period and my sense of smell went haywire. It usually goes away after the first few days.”

“You were tired all the time too,” Vivien chimed in.

Butchy had noticed Mick’s exhaustion as of late, but he knew Mick had a good explanation for that as well. “I have two reasons for that,” she began. “First off, I was trying to finish my book before my interest in it died during the week. And, second, Butchy and I have been going on late-night excursions for the camp.”

“You have?” Vivien asked. “Why?”

Mick sighed, “I can’t say just yet, but you’ll see sooner or later. For now, just know that, no, I’m not pregnant. We’ll just have to work on clearing it all up over the weekend with all the kids gone.”

“How are we going to do that?” Miles asked.

Again, Mick sighed, her voice low as she said, “I don’t know, but we can start by spreading things to the counselors. Once they know the truth, they can talk with the campers and clear the air in the privacy of their cabins.”

“We can also tell everyone in our cabin so they can relax,” Vivien added.

“Who else knows about this and didn’t say anything?” Mick asked.

“Royce told me,” Miles began, “and he found out from Bentley, who was told by Carrie, who heard it from Charlie, who was told by the dancers.”

“And I talked to Riven and Aunt Hayley about it

“So practically everyone?” Mick asked.

Vivien chuckled nervously, “To be fair, not everyone believed it, so they didn’t say anything to anybody outside of the cabin.”

“Actually,” Miles started, “Bentley said he talked to Erica and Jade, but I think they’re the only ones outside of the cabin who knew.”

“The only person I think hasn’t heard about it, is Butchy,” Vivien claimed. 

“Yeah,” Miles agreed, “I think he would’ve said something if he did.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Mick huffed. After a moment of silence, she took in a breath and said, “We’ll start tonight. We can talk to everyone and make sure everything is smoothed out. As long as we can get through to most of the people in our cabin tonight, I’ll feel better about it, but I want to talk to Butchy about it one-on-one.”

“That’s understandable,” Miles stated.

“I’ll work on everyone else at breakfast,” Vivien said. “I know a few people who would spread it around fastest. Once I get to them, things will clear up pretty quickly.”

As the call for everyone to return to their cabins echoed through the camp, Butchy heard Mick let out a relieved sigh, “With any luck, this will be over before the campers come back.”

“Yeah,” Vivien said optimistically.

“Now, lets get back before the others send out a search party,” Miles chuckled.

“And get to clearing the air with everyone before Butchy gets back from cleaning the mess hall,” Vivien added.

“Yeah,” Mick muttered.

As Butchy listened to their footsteps echo throughout the playhouse, he inched the curtain to the side, watching as his wife left with Miles and Vivien’s arms wrapped around her. None of them looked back to see him standing there, watching them, and as Miles flicked the house lights off, turning the playhouse into a dark abyss of shadows, Butchy wondered how long they had been there, talking. Had he found them early in the conversation or had they been there since they left the mess hall? 

Another thing that came to the front of Butchy’s mind was how everyone seemed to know apart from him. Was he truly the last person in their cabin to hear the rumor about Mick’s pregnancy? Who could have started something like that and how had the rumor begun spreading? If it was truly just a rumor as it sounded like Mick said it was, how had it spread throughout the camp? And, again, how would he have been the last to know? As the father of Mick’s rumored child, why would he be the last person in line to know?

Taking in a breath, Butchy shook his head and sighed. He was overthinking it. Mick already said it was nothing more than a rumor; he had nothing to be stressed over. It wasn’t like she was actually pregnant and simply chose not to tell him. If that had been the case, he would have had every right in the world to be at least a little bit upset. That would have been an entirely new can of worms to crack open.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket once more, Butchy turned on the flashlight and made his way back to the back door, ensuring that the lights were off and everything was put away before leaving the playhouse and making his way to the path that connected to the beach. He took his time getting back to the cabin and, by the time he reached the sand of the beach, the sun had set behind the treeline and everyone was congregating on the end of the pier. Despite their smiling faces and jokes about how many dishes he must have had to scrub, he could see in their eyes how serious their previous conversations must have been.

As Butchy took his seat on the pier beside his wife and felt her head rest cozily on his shoulder, he wondered just how long it would take her to tell him. After spending so much time with her, he knew she would need time to sort through her thoughts and feelings on the matter. He had no issue allowing her the space to do so. If he had found out some rumor about himself was spreading amongst his closest friends as well as a myriad of gossiping campers, he would be pretty worked up about it too. As they watched the sunset illuminate the sky, Butchy allowed himself to relax. After all, he had nothing to worry about… right?

Ah, the carnival. The only place where the overwhelming smell of popcorn and fried dough, the sky-high prices of tickets, and the crowds packed tighter than a tin of sardines didn't have any effect on people’s happiness. Workers standing in the summer heat called for people of all ages to try the rigged games they were stationed at, begging them to pay five dollars for a toy they could easily buy at the dollar store. While parents were dragged to ticket counters and various rides their children claimed they just had to ride, groups of teenagers and adults alike gathering on the weekend for a day away from jobs and other responsibilities, roamed free.

After Vivien’s grandparents reassured the group that they had bought day-pass bracelets for everyone, they were practically ushered to the parking lot and encouraged to have a good day away from everything. Upon their arrival at the fairgrounds, the group filed out of the van and found their way through the crowds of people to the line that extended from a row of brightly-colored ticket booths. After making their way to the front of the line and being handed a stack of bracelets with rubber bands wrapped around it, the group found their way to a fairly unoccupied table and worked on figuring out what to do for the day.

After deciding to meet at the Ferris Wheel to figure out what to have for lunch, almost everyone went their separate ways. Vivien and Riven were quick to race to a ride called Pharaoh's Fury, eager to prove that they could handle the pendulum-style ride. Royce and Bentley followed the skating duo but quickly branched off to the nearby Scrambler when Bentley saw just what the Pharaoh’s Fury entailed. As Miles and Carrie wandered off to find something to do, Butchy allowed Mick to guide him around the fairgrounds.

They walked in relative silence, the screams of people on rides and the calls from game operators the only sounds nearby. Butchy wondered what could be going on in Mick’s head. She hadn’t said much of anything since the night before and, while Butchy didn’t want to press her to talk, he missed the sound of her voice. Taking in a breath, Butchy looked around and offered, “Would you like some cotton candy?”

Mick looked up at him and thought for a moment before shaking her head, “Not right now. I think I’ll wait until after we go on some rides to eat anything.”

“Where would you like to go first?” he asked.

With a sigh, Mick looked around and shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Butchy allowed her to look around, taking in the different rides and attractions before asking, “Mickie, are you alright?”

Peering curiously up at her husband, Mick slowly replied, “I was until you asked. Why?”

“You’ve been pretty quiet today,” Butchy stated, “and, usually, you have days like this planned down to the tiniest detail. I was just worried.”

Heaving a sigh, Mick shook her head, “I just have a lot on my mind today. I wanted to talk with you about it when we’re alone, but it doesn’t seem like that will be any time soon.”

Deciding it would be best to inadvertently hit the nail on the head, Butchy lowered his voice and asked, “Is it about that rumor that was going around camp?” When Mick’s wide eyes met his, Butchy sighed, “I don’t know what you heard, but I swear, I didn’t take kitchen duty this week in order to poison Carrie. Not only would it risk poisoning everyone at camp, but it would also make me the number one suspect in her murder, according to Vivien.”

Mick stopped in her tracks and, once Butchy turned back to face her, she asked, “Wait, so you’ve had rumors going around about you this week too?”

“Yeah,” Butchy claimed. “I’m assuming you have too?”

“Yeah,” Mick breathed. “Everyone was saying I was pregnant.”

Butchy froze as though he was hearing this for the first time. Looking his wife over, he took a step closer to her, taking her by the arms as he softly asked, “You’re not?”

“No,” Mick giggled, “I just said it was a rumor.”

Butchy glanced around before quietly saying, “We can change that, if you’d like.”

Mick’s eyes widened as she muttered, “What?”

“It doesn’t have to be a rumor.” With a teasing smirk, Butchy continued, “We could sneak off to the car and nobody would know.”

A shocked noise left Mick and her face burned as she squawked, “Butchy!”

“What?” Butchy asked in mock-astonishment. “I just thought we could go get one of those fake pregnancy tests from that joke shop near Walmart. I don’t know what you were thinking we’d be doing.”

Mick smacked Butchy’s chest as she huffed, “Remind me why I married you.”

“I wish I knew,” Butchy chuckled as he brought an arm around Mick’s shoulders. “I think you were just in it for the motorcycle and I was like the cruddy little prize at the bottom of the cereal box - unnecessary, but you still took it anyway.”

“Sounds about right,” Mick said with a smile, nudging Butchy with her elbow before bringing her arm around his middle. “So, you never heard about the pregnancy rumor?”

“Not until you said something,” Butchy stated. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He had heard her say it the night before, but she didn’t need to know that. “What about you? Had you heard about me poisoning Carrie?”

Mick snorted, “No, but to be honest, I wouldn’t put that past you.”

Acting as though he’d been shot in the heart, Butchy brought a hand to his chest and gasped, “And here I thought you’d be my alibi for the crime.”

“Yeah, no,” Mick said with a shake of her head as she led her husband toward a swinging chair ride. “You and I both know I’m a terrible liar, so the chances of that happening are slim to none.”

“Guess that means I should put the antifreeze back in the truck, then, huh?”

“Butchy!”

[alexbkrieger13]

Magda Eriksson: ‘Chelsea have been in Cup-final mode for weeks – I love that feeling’

We’re going into the FA Cup final against Manchester United on the back of three WSL wins – the double is in our hands and if we do our job, it will turn out the way we want

There was one thing that came into my head straight after our 6-0 win over Leicester on Wednesday – and it was Wembley.

Sunday’s FA Cup final against Manchester United will be my fourth as a Chelsea player but it will be the first at a sold-out Wembley Stadium and I feel extremely lucky.

Since my first final, the attendances have gradually grown but this leap from 49,000 last year to sold-out is something else – and a clear sign of the impact of last summer’s Euros.

It’s wonderful to be breaking records, though, personally speaking, on a match day I am good at staying super-focused and shutting myself off from external things. I tend to allow my feelings in only afterwards.

We played in front of over 70,000 at the Camp Nou in our recent Champions League semi-final and that didn’t affect me, though the stadium is so vast that I didn’t feel the crowd that much anyway.

We’re going into this cup final on the back of three straight WSL wins since our narrow loss to Barcelona, with 15 goals scored. What’s been most pleasing about this mini-run is that the coaching staff have played pretty much every player who’s available and I don’t see other teams who can rotate as we did and still look as sharp.

We start with 11 players but have others on the bench with fresh legs and fresh minds who are ready to perform and they can be the difference-makers at Wembley.

Look at Pernille Harder, for example, with her back-to-back doubles against Everton and Leicester. She has come back from injury and has all that motivation bubbling inside her and it’s great to have someone able to step in and allow Sam Kerr some much-needed rest after all the work she’s put in this season.

That said, we have to stay humble against a very good United team. I hope to stay in football after I stop playing and if I ever had to build a team in the future, I’d use United as an example as the whole journey they’ve been on is so impressive – from creating a women’s team to getting promoted to building with young players who have developed into international footballers.

They’ve not brought in a load of players all at once but have built smartly and got closer each year to the point where they currently sit top of the league.

They showed how strong they are in our home game against them in March. We won 1-0 but had only around 35 per cent of the ball and it could have gone either way. They have a clear identity where they want to use their technical players to dictate the play in midfield and work the ball through the lines. They have speed on the wings, with two attacking full-backs, and thanks to some defensive additions they don’t concede many goals.

Ultimately, the final will be a case of who turns up on the day. As a player you can feel sometimes which team is most up for it and I look back to our Conti Cup final defeat by Arsenal in March when we scored after two minutes yet suffered from a false sense of security. Arsenal stepped up a level and started playing out of our pressure and suddenly we were all over the place.

It was an important lesson and we’ve talked a lot since about how to stop a team’s momentum when a game is going against us. It helped us against Barcelona, for example, to accept that they’d have the momentum at times and we’d need to find a way to make sure they didn’t get close to our goal or create chances.

I’m also taking confidence from the fact that we’ve been in cup-final mode for several weeks already – by which I mean we’re extremely focused and treating every game like a final in the way we prepare.

Whatever happens at Wembley, this will remain the mantra for the rest of the season. After our actual cup final, we’ll have three more in the league, where we’re one point behind United with a game in hand. It’s in our hands and if we do our job, it will turn out the way we want.

I always feel a few nerves before a game but because it’s so tight in the league, I have felt more nervous recently. I do wish we could make things easier for ourselves but then every season at Chelsea it’s been the same – it’s impossible to dominate the WSL entirely because of the quality you see in so many teams. Ultimately it makes it more exciting and I love that feeling of knowing every game counts.

I remember when United were playing at Aston Villa a few Fridays ago and I was with a couple of team-mates telling them we shouldn’t keep checking the scoreline but just wait to see the result at the end. I didn’t want to jinx it but they didn’t listen … and United won it in the 93rd minute.

It just underlines that, like us, they’re a team who are finding ways to win, which is the sign of a good side – and more evidence that we’ll need to be at our very best at Wembley.

[mfenvs3000f23]

Growing up with Nature and a Sense of Place

Describe your current relationship with nature. How has this developed/evolved? Who offered you “a sense of place,” as described in our textbook?

Since I could process the world around me, I have always been very outdoors and nature oriented. I was that kid who kept her parents on their toes after rocks tumbled around in our washing machine because I had stuffed my pockets full of the ones I deemed special in some way. Maybe you were that kid too or collected something else found outdoors (possibly to your parent’s dismay).

My childhood passion for geology didn’t stick, but I moved on to bugs and insects which did. I remember feeling kind of puzzled when the other kids didn’t want to see the moth I caught at recess, and getting excited when I’d made a friend that would come along with me to watch the anthill in the soccer field.

As I got older, there was never a question about what I’d pursue; I’d get into the environmental sciences. That made sense to me and everybody who knew me. I got my first environmental job the summer after grade 11, a farmhand co-op. I started to put nature into two different boxes: nature for my career and nature for wellbeing and plain fun.

These categories became evident to me when I would come home from 8 hours of being in the field planting, collecting data, weeding, and yet I still had the itch to feel the grass on my feet and sun on my skin. I’d just spent the entire day in the grass and sun! What was that about? I learned something about my relationship with nature here. Of course, I loved the type of work I was doing, but that could not be the whole of the time I spent with nature. I needed to still prioritize times to be outdoors not because it was part of my contract, but because it made my soul sing. Going into my co-op I’d assumed I was killing two birds with one stone, and when it didn’t turn out that way, I started to worry whether I really loved nature. Had I been faking this entire time? Imposter syndrome set in. After some time, I realized this meant I must really really love nature, to spend all day outdoors and still want to spend some more. All I needed to do was bring back the part of my relationship with nature that didn’t require me to be an academic. Growing up, the relationship consisted of all play no work, which turned into all work no play. I had to establish some balance. This brings me to the present day, where I have had to become even more of an academic. It is more important now than it has ever been, for me to allow myself time and space outdoors just to be, not to do.

A time someone provided me a sense of place was this past summer, when I was a staff member on a travelling summer camp. We’d gotten to our final destination: Lahaina, Maui. Our bus driver had grown up there and knew about the area endlessly. He gave us historical information about the sailors who used to pass through, and the generational Banyan tree that has stood there for centuries. At the time, I was super impressed by the driver, his wealth of knowledge, and the way he was deeply entertaining to listen to, even after an overnight flight. You might have heard in the news that Lahaina had some devastating fires that burnt much of the region to the ground a week or two after I was there. Now, I can’t put into words the enormous gratitude I feel for my time there, and the amount I learned. I was given the sense of place of a lifetime and for that I am eternally grateful.

I have attached some photos from my time in Lahaina:

[cinematicnomad]

hi! i hope this is okay to ask, but i was just wondering if you could tell me/us a bit more about how you landed your job (which seems SO cool)? like, is this something you were always interested in? did you have to go to school for it? i'd love to work on the comm/marketing team for a university in my country--because i really miss the feeling of being on a busy, bustling campus--but idk if there's a better way of going about it than just cold-calling or emailing the hr dept about vacancies...

(2/2 uni job anon) comm/marketing and recruitment (which is what you do, i think?) are quite different ofc--i just think that these particular universities could really use a hand with their various english-language dispatches and know i could really help them out if i found a way onto their staff roster...

hey anon! i'm definitely happy to answer any questions. i can't comment on how your countries university's handle hiring. in the states, universities tend to list all of their open administrator/staff positions online. you can literally google a university name + jobs and you'll find a link. once on it, you can usually narrow you're search—so in your case, you could potentially narrow it down to positions with the words 'marketing' 'communications' 'social media' etc etc. then find the position that fits your interest and fill out the application and submit it. then you just have to...wait. which for universities (at least in the states) can take some time.

i put my personal journey in my work below the cut if anyone's interested:

i didn't originally go to school with the intention of working in higher ed. i got my bachelors in english lit with a minor in history. i thought i might become a writer or go into publishing or something. i v much did not know what i wanted to do by the time i finished undergrad. i traveled some the summer after college and didn't really seriously thinking about my post-school plans until late july. i didn't have a drivers license (let alone a car or easy access to public transportation) and i was living in suburbia with my parents so my options were really limited—but i lucked out in that we lived about a 15 minute walk from a large public university so i just kind of...applied to everything? i didn't have much by the way of experience—at this point my resume amounted to 3 summers working as a clerk in a doctor's office, a summer as a day camp counselor, a summer working as a sales associate at homegoods, and an internship at a british private publishing company. basically i had customer service skills and i knew how to function in an office and i could string coherent sentences together. the one guiding point i had when applying to jobs was that...i'd grown up traveling around the world and so i was intrigued by the jobs i saw that had to do with international admissions/students/etc. i prioritized those applications, but honestly i would have taken anything.

i luckily got an interview and an eventual offer for a part-time assistant job in the office of international admissions. and my career kind of just...evolved from there? about 6 months later my supervisor moved into a new position and i was asked to apply for his job so i did. it wasn't exactly what i wanted to be doing—i spent my days sitting in an office reviewing international transcripts to determine a) if the school was recognized/accredited; b) the US degree equivalency; and c) the student's equivalent US gpa AND i was given the task of processing and issuing immigration documents for incoming int'l students. these are two incredibly niche, vital processes for international admissions and having that baseline expertise was good for me. i stayed at that university for a total of 4 years before accepting a position at a smaller private university in DC—by this point i had a license and a car and could afford to move closer to public transportation. career-wise it was lateral move—i didn't get a title bump, but i did get a decent salary increase AND the job was more generalized. which was good for me! all of my work up until that point had been SO specialized and isolated that i spent a lot of time on my own cooped up in an office doing work alone—and bc my job was so isolated and no one could cover for me, and it was so reliant on being in the office, i was never given the opportunity to travel. which sucked. my new job let me experience different facets of admissions with a team of people and also allowed me the chance to get some experience recruiting domestically.

after i'd been there for a while i took advantage of one of the common benefits of working in higher ed in the US—tuition benefits. i applied for and was admitted into a master's program int'l education and my job covered 90% of the tuition. whenever i had a performance review or check in with my supervisor i let her know i was interested in recruiting internationally for the office. halfway through the program my boss offered me the chance to apply for a new position in my office with the understanding that it would come with a pay increase, a title bump, and FINALLY: int'l recruiting. i applied, got the job, renewed my passport so i could be ready to travel...and then COVID hit.

that derailed plans a little but i stayed in my job and kept working. i finally got to start recruiting internationally for my job last fall and around november i had another conversation with my boss about a new position—this one would be focused on recruiting internationally and on developing partnerships with other universities and designing joint programs. so that's what i'm doing now! and that's how i got here.

not sure if anyone is actually here still reading this! but if you are, i am happy to answer any questions you might have about preparing for interviews, what to expect, other nitty-gritty details, etc.

[housethehouseless]

Stakeholders: Houselessness in Roseburg

When looking deeper into the issue of houselessness in Roseburg, it is clear that many stakeholders are present in this issue.

The most drastically impacted and of the highest importance would be those that are currently houseless in Roseburg and also those that were formerly houseless. The houseless population includes those that have lost their homes, lost their jobs, left domestically violent homes, suffered from mental health issues, and/or struggled with substance abuse. These stakeholders need assistance and are at the root of this issue, as they require resources to survive.

Local government staff and officials are also notable stakeholders of this issue. Mayor Larry Rich of Roseburg, Oregon is also on the Homeless Commission and leads their monthly meetings.

The Homeless Commission is important to mention as well. The organized meetings for this commission focus on researching and gathering information on the current state of homelessness in Roseburg and works to recommend solutions or ideas to the City Council. This organization also oversees relationships with agencies pertaining to the houseless and listens to the general public's concerns (Homeless Commission).

Many residents, businesses, and visitors in Roseburg have developed their own views and opinions on the issue of houselessness. The general public is also a stakeholder that has a general interest and concern for this issue. Some residents of Roseburg have developed a fear of those that are houseless, as many unhoused people have camped along the river, which is considered to be a residential backyard of many. Businesses have grown tiresome of vandalism and loitering outside of their businesses that seems to scare off potential customers (Roseburg Homeless Commission Agenda).

Law enforcement in Roseburg interacts with the houseless on a daily basis. Officers of the law must address reported crimes, approach suspicious persons, and ask illegally camped, houseless people to move their belongings. It is more than typical for residents to report houseless people to the police. A notable individual of the Roseburg Police Department is Police Captain Jeremy Sanders. Captain Sanders is a participant at the Homeless Commission meetings. 

Many behaviors of the houseless are criminalized, such as camping, loitering, sleeping, and urinating in public (Siegel). Also, substance abuse is a significant issue on the streets of Roseburg. Many of the houseless individuals participating in these behaviors end up in the local jail. The local jail, Douglas County Sheriff's Office Jail, would also be considered a stakeholder as well.

Roseburg's local hospital, Mercy Medical Center, is where sick or injured houseless individuals are taken. A significant concern of the hospital and the jail is where to drop off incapacitated individuals (Carroll, 2022). 

Umpqua Heart is a nonprofit organization that collaborates with community leaders to provide services to houseless individuals. Umpqua Heart has also developed living facilities for the houseless and provided access to resources to the individuals residing there (Umpqua Heart).

The United Community Action Network (UCAN) is another nonprofit organization that assists the homeless by providing them with food, housing, and shelter. UCAN prioritizes providing resources, equipment of skills, and opportunities for the houseless (UCAN).

References

Carroll, S. (2022, March 27). Homeless falling through the cracks is "a big mess". nrtoday.com. Retrieved October 24, 2022, from https://www.nrtoday.com/news/government/homeless-falling-through-the-cracks-is-a-big-mess/article_bce2cf08-02ba-5f52-ba3d-9b9502fe40d6.html 

Homeless Commission. City of Roseburg. (n.d.). Retrieved October 24, 2022, from https://www.cityofroseburg.org/your-government/commissions/homeless-commission 

Our accomplishments. United Community Action Network. (2022, April 22). Retrieved October 24, 2022, from https://www.ucancap.org/our-accomplishments/ 

Rich, L. (n.d.). ROSEBURG HOMELESS COMMISSION AGENDA. Roseburg. 

Siegel, D. H. (n.d.). The Criminalization of Homelessness. Social Work Today. Retrieved October 24, 2022, from https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/exc_0518.shtml 

Umpqua Heart. (n.d.). Our approach to housing equality. Umpqua Heart. Retrieved October 24, 2022, from https://umpquaheart.org/our-plan 

[safereturndoubtful]

Shap

Monday 28th August

A week catching up with a few friends hiking around the maze of tracks around Shap village, based at New Ing Lodge.

Scott and Leigh Ann have been at New Ing for almost 13 years now and in that time it is barely recognisable from when they first bought it. Most bed and breakfast guests are walking the Wainwright Coast to Coast long distance path, though the whole house is rented by groups at weekends which gives the staff a break. There is camping in the large garden at the rear, and three brand new self catering apartments in an adjacent renovated barn. It’s become something of an Empire.

I’m parked up on the top field by the children’s playground and vegetable garden, and have great views over Shap fells and the regular (at this time of year) murmurations of starlings in the late evening.

Roja’s getting some family time, as his cousin is here who he spent a lot of his first year with.

Over the Bank Holiday weekend some good friends, Frank and Sinead, have been up, so there’s been a bit of catching up, and some exiting adventures locally with Scott’s little ones, Maggie and Arthur.

The team photos are up on Knipe Scar in a tremendous afternoon adventure through the jungle that is the bracken at the moment, it has grown to 5 feet high in recent weeks. The other two dogs are Frank’s, Nora and Dave. The adventure culminated at the Pools of Doom with the kids, and Scott, paddling (and falling) with the dogs.

After just two and a half years fairly heavy use, the diesel heater in the van has packed up. It is displaying an ‘error 3’ which indicates a glow plug problem. These are Chinese 5kw heaters, quite cheap and efficient, and still probably better value than the others on the market, even with a fault after 30 months. Bad news that it malfunctioned, good news that it malfunctioned here, and I’ve managed to get it booked in in South Lakes for a replacement on 11th September. A replacement glow plug and its fiddly fitting is possible, but around £150, and not sensible as other things could well go wrong. A new one is £225 with the fitting on top.

Until then I’ll hang around the Eastern fells here. The weather is more like autumn than summer, but that quite suits me, and I will take the chance to get a few other van jobs done.

[camp-counselor-life]

So the background to this story is, uh, I call a lot of people and seem to consistently have a rough time starting the conversation. Idk what to tag this with, so uh, here it is.

[noseblxxd]

[ verse & tag update ]

tl;dr Jamie has a tag now and Bev has a few established relationships with Ras and Aaron; dropping them under the cut to save dash space

x; Picking Up The Trail [Jamie]

A dubious little CREATURE getting up to MISCHIEF.

Just any thread featuring Jamie

x; Blood Ties [Aaron]

On July 13, 2258 inside the Jefferson Memorial, a baby boy, Aaron Sheling, was born. He would have grown up alongside his parents, James and Catherine, watching groundbreaking research and in turn history being made. Sadly, none of this came to fruition as his mother died shortly after his birth, and the project fell into an indefinite hiatus. James trekked across the Capital Wastes in search of safety and security, eventually gaining entrance into Vault 101.

Soon into settling in, James met Kate, one of the vault’s teachers. She had talked to him about her ongoing health problems, which found her frequently in his office. A year passed, and the two started a relationship, Kate raising and treating Aaron like her own son. Beverly was born shortly there after.

Fifteen years went by, and Katherine’s health worsened. By the time James’ and his staff determined the problem, she only had a few months. The vault didn’t have the capacity to treat her condition, and all things considering, the Overseer saw their efforts as a waste of already limited recourses. But Rivet City was so close by, James pleaded for the vault to be opened.

The vault stayed shut, and Katherine passed away a few months after Bev’s sixteenth birthday.

Years passed, and after James’ sudden escape from the vault, Aaron and Bev followed him into the wasteland, and their journey began.

As the revival of Project Purity came to fruition, the siblings drifted apart once the Enclave fell; Aaron opted to stay with the Brotherhood, Bev traveling around DC. The two didn’t see each other again until they met up in The Pitt, much to their shock. Pittsburgh did an absolute number on the two of them, and in the chaos, they were separated once again.

Depending on the timeline, Bev and Aaron may or may have not reunited.

x; Here There Be Monsters [Raserei]

The Republic rarely sent her off into the field, not with a baby to take care of. Joining troopers on their treks out into the desert was a last resort on staffing, usually last minute. Medical treatment on wastelanders was rare, but always a medical emergency. So when a giant of a man stormed into their camp in the dead of night, covered in blood and unwell, they knew the situation was urgent.

Raserei’s appearance fit his personality perfectly; blunt, aggressive, like a wounded bear fighting off anything that got too close. Naturally Beverly handled his treatment with extreme caution, but insisted he stay at camp so she could continue to monitor his condition through the night. Despite a rocky start, they talked throughout the evening and into the early hours of the next morning.

Before he made his way back into the Mojave, Bev asked if he had any intentions of being around her base for a follow-up. After that, their visits were frequent and often lasted several hours, with Ras eventually meeting her son. Overtime the two grew closer, Bev disclosing her history in the Capital Wastes, Ras opening up about his wife and daughter. Secrets were still kept, but the trust they slowly built created a foundation for a familial bound.

As the years went by, and Bev’s presence in the NCR came to an end, she and Raserei made the decision to leave New California together, traveling back towards the east cost.

Bev still lives in Diamond City with Jamie, but Ras often spends time with the two. Typically they will accompany each other out on jobs and supply runs, or they will spend time at home cooking and enjoying each other’s company.

[prof-peach]

it feels a bit jarring to say, but I will try to be honest, don't worry about the introduction, I just can't help but default to verbose when I'm nervous..... aaaaaniway, straight to the point, what did I miss? as in, I started following you when the cacnea comic dropped, and then kinda quit Tumblr, but now that I'm back, peach is buff, and there are new people, which I love, don't misunderstand me, but yeah, what did I miss since then.... sorry, I just rather hear it straight from the horse's mouth

PREVIOUSLY ON, THE ADVENTURES OF PROFESSOR PEACH:

The Island opens, a new chapter in Peach and Grey's life, helping pokemon and focusing on grass study. People come and go from the Island shores to learn, search for answers, and enjoy the scenery. (this is where those skinny peach comics originate, early days) Time passes, give or take 8 years, Peach has realised she's suited to wrangling the largest of large, and starts to work out to keep up with the physical demand, her mantra being 'do the work your team does, carry your own weight' and so she does, won't send her pokemon to do something she wont at least attempt herself. The island bustles every day, ferries coming and going with school trips, folks from the mainlands, and trainers looking for events and ventures. The facilities have grown, it has hotel accommodation, camp grounds, a modest amusement park on the docks, rides and games, cafes and beautiful parks to explore, not to mention the mountains that have been carved into for the cave dwellers, paths to the top to allow folks to look across the island and get the best views. The years have been kind to it, people love the place, plenty of activities are on offer run by a myriad of friendly staff, for visitors and pokemon to partake in. The labs still focus on grass types, that is after all Peach's forte, she's just branched into severe rehab for the more aggressive individuals too, taking on cases from all over that others have given up on. Her spare time is spent using her botany for good, she'll be in her greenhouse brewing and refining, using poisons and plants to create tonics to help many pokemon recover.

Grey is running a fantastic prosthetic program, helping mons who lose limbs, developing new held items to help individuals live healthy happy lives. His calm and gentle nature seems to be exactly what many patient need. He has a big workshop now with all the equipment to print and build various things, and spends his days with Peach, working closely with her rehab patients to make sure they're given the best chance.

Pari, the nursing intern that came in at the start of opening the labs has graduated and become a full time hire, head nurse, the professors can hand off work to her in complete confidence, she runs the front desk and pokecentre facilities like a champion, still a big cry baby but they love her for it. She lives at the top of the labs in a little apartment with her pokemon, days off going home to Goldenrod to visit her huge family

Around year 7 of moving to the island, the team got a connection with local rangers from a hand full of regions, who began to send the grass types that need help to the island, along with particularly nasty natured individuals who could do with more help than they have time for. They sent a liaison ranger to keep the exchanges organised, make sure everything goes to plan at the Island, to serve as a conduit for the bases and the professors. That turned out to be Peach's old rivals, Plum. Despite her irritation at the situation, Plum does a good job, she's decent with the pokemon, has flawless paperwork, and is a pretty skilled ranger when she's pushed out into the field.

Along side them, plenty of staff exist on the island, running businesses and working hard. A team of a dozen gardeners and their pokemon, hotel staff, cooks and cleaners, security at the docks, a lighthouse keeper, maintenance, battle aids who help trainers with their techniques, able to provide basic first aid, daycare staff, tour guides, and then seasonal staff. Summer we have folks come in to rent surfboards and water sport gear, festivals are held that bring in food vendors and trucks, kite festivals with rentals, winter you can go grab a hot drink and hit the snowy slopes on a pair of skis or a board. And of course big up the background cogs, the staff who keep things ticking, the hard working HR department, our accountants, lawyers, all making sure we do our best and that all our staff are catered for.

This brings us up to speed, current day, Peach is usually in the fields wrestling, out in the fields planting and harvesting, or in the greenhouses tending and brewing. Greys always tinkering with new designs and items, often asking Peach or his partners to test them out, perfecting his craft. Pari is the happy front to the centre, the first point of contact for any visiting trainer, and the Island is ticking at a very comfortable pace, growing and flourishing.

[kookiecrumb]

jjk || Changes Between Us

wc: 8.5k/oneshot

pairing: campcounselor!jungkook x femcampcounselor!reader

summary: You should have gotten the promotion at your summer job, but instead the your irresponsible coworker gets it. When the both of you are sent back in time to 1973, you must find a way home through getting to know each other a little better.

warnings: taking drugs (on accident), mature language, mention of war, camp bullies

tags: etl, time travel au, semi-historical au, himbo!jungkook, he falls first, fluff, slight sexism for historical accuracy, slight angst

a/n: let me know if I should make it into a series or if you need me to focus on my other series...i know i left you hanging on transitions and positions. i got another idea for a taehyung oneshot, so anticipate that~ ♡

You're going to kill him. 

You are going to kill him. 

It's five in the morning, the kids aren't even up yet, and he took your peanut butter and jelly breakfast sandwich from the staff mini-fridge in the lunchroom. There is no way you're going to be able to deal with fifty twelve year olds at six in the morning without your PB&J.

Jungkook doesn't even like peanut butter-- he's a Nutella guy! It pisses you off that he can take your things like that just because he's the big kids' group manager. 

All the girls under your cabin think he's a hunk, harshly whispering to themselves with their eyes flickering in his direction during lunch or at the lake. 

He's well aware of course, but pays it no mind. "It's normal," he laughs it off, hugging his knees on the dock with his hair soaking wet from the lake. He turns his head to watch the sky transform over the glassy water. "They're going through stuff." 

He's a good counselor-- a great camp counselor, but it's only because he's just one big kid. That's the worst thing about him. It gets annoying when you're the one having to pick up his neglected responsibilities. 

The camp has a standard to uphold. Parents send their kids to this camp to make long-lasting memories and to learn social-emotional skills they're normally deprived of during summer vacation. This camp has been situated near the coast of Northern California for decades.

You have reasons to believe it was established in the seventies, but that's just based on rumors and the kind of dated equipment they use around here. It doesn't matter. The point is, this camp has a reputation of good times and chill vibes, and Jungkook isn't doing such a good job of keeping it that way. 

Last week, he was out playing with the older boys and almost smothered a kid while trying to catch a football. That poor chubby little guy was flailing his arms and everything under a grown man. It was sad to watch, but admittedly funny. He's okay now, of course. 

You need to eat something for breakfast. Lunch is late. Masking your petty frustration with indifference, you tear open a simple granola bar you were saving for an afternoon snack and go about your way getting ready for a long work day ahead. 

As you walk out of the staff cabin, the planks beneath creak with each step. The fog caught in the rays of the sun floats to the ground, a mist that flows between the giant, bark-wrapped trees that dot the border of the campgrounds. 

The brightness is blinding. With a full breath, you savor the serenity of a morning just broken, the newborn sun announcing the commencement of yet another memorable summer day.

Hugging your torso, you tilt your head toward the water. You watch the glimmer on the crest of the waves that play with the sun, the gentle rushing lulling you. If it weren't so chilly this morning, you'd jump right in. 

Time marches on and consequently pulls you from your fantasy. You make your day to the older girls' cabin. It is time for the little ones to stretch awake in their bunk beds, wriggle out of their gowns and into their t-shirts and jeans, and eat their warm breakfast. 

You clasp the cool metal knob and twist it, quietly walking into the warm cabin. A few are already up, pulling a fresh set of clothes from their packed suitcases. They have procrastinated stuffing their folded clothes into the provided drawers. 

You know better than to scold them for it. As they dirty them, they'll realize the convenience of using their drawers. At least, that is your expectation. It is your first time in charge of the older girls' group, and the difference in maturity did surprise you. 

They look out for one another. You're endlessly proud to be their counselor and cabin mom. 

Lilah is quietly gathering her stuff for her turn in the bathroom. She's leaning over her bed, gathering her multi-colored hair ties and picking out her jewelry. You watch as she separates one of her delicate gold chains with her fingers. 

"Lilah," you call in a soft tone. "Could you open up the blinds when you're done-- and tell the girls to shower quickly and dry off completely before coming out for breakfast." 

She nods her head without looking up, focused on her small task. She's a good kid. Her parents have been bringing her to this camp ever since she was a little girl. In fact, Lilah as been here longer than you have. You can trust her. 

With a small smile, you close the door to the cabin and start walking toward the main office to check for any packages. Staff get paid in two week intervals, and the paycheck averages to about two hundred dollars a day. 

Personally, you're saving almost all of it to put a down-payment on an apartment. You know that some staff just blow it the moment they get it on stuff they don't need, and those packages all end up at the front office. 

You did order something this time, though. It is a Hello Kitty ricecooker. You've gotten sick of eating nothing but some variation of protein plus some sort of dairy or fruit product squished between two slices of semi-stale bread. Think of all the soups and stews you can make now! 

You arrive at the front desk, but your tiny letterbox is empty, and there's no sign of a package near the door. That's where they usually are. Worried, you ask Camila, the secretary, about it. "Hey! Did that Hello Kitty Ricecooker come in yet? I've been waiting on it for almost two weeks now…" you pout. 

Camila shakes her head. "Sorry, hon. Not a ricecooker in sight," she frowns. Camila looks tired lately. The bags under her eyes are sagging, and her eyes hold a little less vigor, these days. In her delicate hands, wrinkles begin to crease her skin as her fingers curl around important documentation concerning the camp's legal paperwork. Although tired, her smile holds the same comfort as it did when you were a wide-eyed big kid, waiting for your very first camper ID card. 

"Well...that's okay," you hum. "It'll be here tomorrow." It wouldn't be the end of the world to wait until tomorrow to make your legendary veggie soup for the girls. 

"Hey! Hey--" Jungkook stumbles through the door, panting as if he ran the whole way. "Hey." He swallows to catch his breath. "Camilaaaa…" 

He spreads a taut smile. "I have a thing coming in, you got it?" Jungkook snaps in remembrance. "It's a new speaker." 

With a brief roll of her eyes, Camila swings her chair back and rolls toward the mail slot labeled "J.Jeongguk," where a palm-sized package is squeezed in with a stack of spam letters. She plucks it from the letterbox and sets it down on the front counter for him.

"Thanks, you're a beast." He takes it, checking its label. "Oh, hey, Y/N," he nods towards you as he walks out the door, picking at the tape securing the package. 

"Thank you," you say to Camila before following him out. 

-

Today is Tuesday, July 15th. On the calendar hung up in the arts and crafts room, today is marked as mac and cheese day. The corkboard is filled with flyers about events and information on future trips, along with scattered notices about missing items from campers. Scribbled on the wooden frame of the board are doodles written on in pencil or black ink pen, designed by board campers during group meetings. 

You trace your finger down on the calendar to next week. It's marked with the words: "Seattle Trip Day One." You sigh deeply. 

It's not that you don't like Seattle, it's just that-- the whole reason you go to camp every year in the first place is to get away from the business of city life. There, it rains too often and around every corner there is a coffee shop or bakery. The smell is nauseating. 

The air is clear here. There are no loud cars or crowds, and the scenery can't be beat. 

Speaking of scenery, there's something obstructing yours right now. "Jungkook, move. I'm trying to see the calendar," you scold.

"Why? You have a digital copy in your email. I sent it out this morning." He dissects, sneering. Admittedly, you rarely check your inbox. You don't have anybody to email. You just text, like every other regular human being. 

"Anyways," he hugs his biceps, "your kid is yelling at one of mine." 

That's got to be a lie. Not one of your girls is close to being irritable. This has got to be a misunderstanding. "Okay, well...did you figure out why they're fighting?" 

"No." He says, bluntly. "I just know it isn't my kid's fault." 

What a dick thing to say. He's supposed to be an example to the older kids, and instead he acts like it has nothing to do with him. 

It doesn't matter. You'll deal with Jungkook's thickheadedness later. 

You come onto the scene, and immediately you notice a water gun on the grass, a crying Ashley, and a pissed off 11 year old boy being held back by his scrawny friends. 

"Come on, guys…" you start, picking up the plastic squirter. "What happened here, huh?" You motion toward Ashley. 

Rebecca shakes her head, disapprovingly. Lilah rolls her eyes with a lighthearted smile. Jamie wipes the careful tears from Ashley's face. They're gathered together, consoling her. 

"She said he took her strawberry shortcake creamsicle." Lilah informs you. To be fair, you'd be crying about it too, if someone stole your strawberry shortcake creamsicle. Those things are good. Really good.

"Okay, well, did he?" You turn toward either group. They open their mouths simultaneously and begin speaking. Suddenly, everybody is talking over one another and confusing themselves, and you can't hear anybody. 

"Yo! I can't hear anybody. I need to hear it from Brady." Brady has stopped struggling at this point, and he's pouting his lips like a toddler among his buddies. 

"Brady, did you or did you not take Mandy's strawberry shortcake creamsicle?" You ask. It's a straightforward question, and there's no use in lying about it. 

"Yeah, I did…" he mumbles, ashamed of himself. 

"Why?" You smile, trying to meet his eyes. 

"Because...I wanted one and the line was too long," he whines. 

The camp has been a little understaffed lately because of budget cuts. It's a bit upsetting, but not at all surprising with the kind of greater economic recession happening right now.

"Well, that's okay. Can you apologize to Mandy for me?" You try, gesturing to the girl. 

"Hmph," he hums. He knows he'll get shit from his pals all summer if he apologizes to a girl. He hesitates greatly, but realizes the consequences of saying no to a counselor. He makes the smart choice.

 "Okay," he nods. 

"It doesn't have to be right now, but...I'm glad you want to apologize," you hug Brady. "Thanks, bud." 

The rest goes over well with the bunch, as they make amends with one another and get along fine by the end of the day. You'd call it a personal success. 

Truth is, you're not the best with kids. You're more inclined towards a more professional setting, but this job hits a soft spot every once in a while. It takes a special touch to take care of the people who will grow up to inherit the world. That's why you try to be as patient as possible when dealing with potentially hurtful situations such as earlier. It's a skill.

It's lunchtime now, and an afternoon drizzle has brought everyone inside for an early movie night in the rec room. You thank Leslie for covering you while you go take a break in the staff cabin. 

It looks like you're the only one. You unplug your phone from the wall and stuff it in your jacket's pocket. You don't want to start a fire. Pulling out a chair, you sit yourself down at a table across the vending machine and the fridge. There's a staff kitchen adjacent to the backdoor, which includes a microwave and a stove-top that rarely anybody has the time to use. 

You were never allowed in this place as a kid. Well, that's not true. There was one time when your old camp counselor let you in to warm up a bowl of instant oatmeal after you had gotten sick. "What's the lesson here?" She'd ask you, taking your hand and leading you to the microwave. 

"Always bring a towel to lake days…" you'd reply, embarrassed at your mistake. You recall having the sniffles for a good week before you were all better. That was over ten years ago. How time flies, huh…it's funny. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" a scream is heard from the other side of the back door. You jump into action, dashing toward the stream and throwing the door open. 

"What?! What?!" You look around, eyes blown wide in concern only to find a soaking wet Jungkook holding an entire two liters of soda by his fingertips and three boxes of pizza. 

He pushes you out of the way in a hurry, grunting as he drops the food on the table. "Fuck!" He groans. Jungkook tosses the hood of his jacket off and stumbles into a cheap plastic chair. The rain had apparently worsened. In fact, it's pouring out now. 

This would be normal for summertime in Washington, if it weren't for the sounds of crashing thunder outside. "Sorry...If you called, my phone was charging--" 

Jungkook shoots you a look. 

"I wouldn't have gotten the call," you say. It's true, it's not your fault. He could have dropped the stuff off up front instead or tried calling another staff member. 

"Whatever," he twists the cap off the soda bottle. The hiss of the trapped carbonated air is too loud for his liking, given Jungkook's nose-scrunch. "Y/N, get me cups," he demands.

Rude! "Could you ask nicely?" 

"Yes," he stops what he's doing and, in a mock-serious tone, begs. "Dearest, wonderful, pretty and graceful Y/N, would you do me the honor…" he smirks. 

"Stop it. I'll get you the cups. Never do that again." You reach for the red solo cups that the camp manager had bought in the beginning of the summer, under the impression that there would be a staff party at some point. He was wrong.

You separate them with focus, sitting down across from your drenched coworker. "You should really dry off," you mumble. 

"Awh, it's like you care," he hushes in reply, folding his pizza in half and taking a bite out of it, waving it around as he talks. "Mm! This isn't bad." 

Carefully, Jungkook separates a slice from the rest of the pie, and places a piece on a paper plate. He slides it over to you, nodding for you to have some with a gentle smile. It's kind of sweet, like the honey leftover from a cup of hot tea in the morning. 

"Thanks," you say, taking a bite. 

With a loud crash, the thunder startles Jungkook. Embarrassed, he lowers his eyes to study the plastic table. "I don't like loud noises," he informs you. 

"That's okay. Strangely, this reminds me of that one scene in The Sound of Music, if you've ever seen that?" 

"No, I haven't...actually. How does it go?" 

"Well...there's this nanny who used to be a nun and she sings to the children she takes care of, like…" you proceed to sing a snippet of the song in a melodic mumble. 

Jungkook smirks and starts humming along with you. "I know the song, I just wanted to hear you sing it," he admits. 

"Why would you want me to sing it?" you ask. 

"Cause I like it when you sing." 

Could it be, Mr.Jeon Jungkook of Camp Washington Trail, actually found you pleasant after all?

"It's kinda funny," he follows up. Of course not. You smack your teeth at him and continue eating. There are better things to waste your time on around here. 

"Idiot." You pick up your phone and press the sides until the screen lights up with the time. It is late now, almost time to put the girls to bed. 

Another thing you notice is that your phone has absolutely no reception. That's not uncommon, for thunderstorms to cause disruptions in service, especially around here. I mean, you're in the middle of nowhere. That's to be expected. 

Here's where the weird shit starts happening. 

The sound of rain stops. Like...instantly. There's suddenly no rain outside, and the thunder has stopped, suddenly. You press the sides of your phone again and it won't turn on. 

You just charged it, so it should have a full battery, but no matter how long you hold the buttons, nothing seems to work. Your phone isn't old, either. It's brand new. 

"Why won't your phone turn on?" Jungkook gestures, concerned. 

"I don't know, what did you do to it?" You exclaim, trying it again frantically. You hit him out of frustration. 

"Nothing. Nothing!" He yells. "Fuck!" Jungkook pulls himself away from your attack and continues chewing. "Damn…" 

"Ugh!" You set the phone down. "There's not a repair shop for miles…" 

The windows are shuttered, but the light that seeps between them is not dark anymore, and in fact the slices of the sun's rays now blind your squinting eyes. 

You pull out of the table to open them up. You're met with a peculiar scenery. For one, the trees look younger. Out of everything, the trees...look younger. And as you continue to look around, you realize that the camp is simply not built. 

It was as if a group of workers had disassembled the buildings, gathered the wood in a great stack by the lake and were digging into the Earth beneath where the cabins once stood. That doesn't make sense. 

There has never been any kind of renovation to the camp since its construction in the 1970s.

 Sure, you don't read your emails, but you thought it safe to assume that the manager would at least notify the staff that there would be a demolition. Except...there wasn't. The men were building. 

"Jungkook, did you know we were remodeling?" You ask, in disbelief. 

"We're not. We haven't changed anything here since the seventies," he mumbles, patting himself down to find his phone. "Hey, did you take my phone? Have you seen it?" 

"No, I haven't." You state, dazed. "Can you come outside with me?" 

The next few moments consisted of you walking around the outside trying to locate the main office, only to find a pile of unweathered wood in its place, next to a couple bags of gravel. "It's like it was never built," you say, in a lighthearted tone, as if it was some sick joke that the entire camp pulled on you.

If that were the case, then Jungkook would be in on it, but he's as stumped as you are. No malicious smirk. No holding back laughter. Pure befuddlement fills his consciousness and reflects on his face. 

"What the fuck happened here," he asks. That confirms it. Jungkook is just as oblivious as you are. This is no prank. The camp is completely abandoned.  

"Are you high?" You burst. "Are you fucking high, Jungkook?!" 

"Woah...woah…" he furrows his brows. "...maybe." He thinks a little too long for your comfort. He shifts his stance so that he faces the lake. 

"Do you know how much danger you've put me in? Do you know what this means? We don't even know where we are, what's happening, where to go--" 

"SHHHH! Shut up. I'm trying to think."

Truth is, Jungkook hadn't ordered a new speaker from Amazon. In fact, Jungkook has a perfectly good, waterproof speaker under his bed that he sticks on the shower wall when he's lathering his skin in bodywash.

Truth is, Jungkook ordered 50 milligrams of a relatively unknown hallucinogen that he forgot he sprinkled on his-- and only his piece of pizza. 

The same slice he offered you. 

"Okay, so good news bad news." He said, finally. "Good news is that it's likely that none of this is real. Bad news is that we are most definitely high." 

You approach him, calmly. Jungkook's eyes blow wide in utter fear of the repercussions of his actions, watching your hands, in case he has to catch them. "Okay, genius!" You snap. "How are you gonna get us back, huh?" 

"Uhhh," he laughs. "It's funny, I swear. Uhm...I don't know." 

With a deep inhale, you step away and start walking. You're headed toward the only state road for miles. "Fine. Until you figure that out, I'm going toward Leavenworth." 

"Isn't that like ten miles from here?" Jungkook asks, standing still as the distance between you grows. 

"Yes," you reply. 

"Well!" He struggles with his words, like a toddler. "If you're going, I'm going." Jungkook jogs to catch up to you. 

You reach the road within five minutes of walking and then, thanks to your navigation skills, follow it Northwest. 

Halfway through the third mile, Jungkook finds a good-sized rock and starts kicking it, casually. The sound of the pebble hitting the tar gets increasingly annoying until eventually it rolls off the side of the road, into a ditch. He pauses to watch it stumble before shrugging and continuing to walk. 

"If it starts raining we're fucked," he points out, looking up at the sky. You glance upwards, just in case. 

"Let's hope it doesn't." 

That's when you encounter your first car. You have no idea what model it is, or what year it is, but it definitely has that vintage look. Ideas about flagging them down, to see if you could score a ride to the next town flash your mind. Before any exclamation leaves your mouth, the car speeds by. 

You missed it. 

Jungkook looks back at it and shuffles forward, catching up with you. With his hands in his pockets, he walks alongside you in silence for another mile until a thought crosses his mind. "Are you sure Leavenworth is even founded yet?" 

"This isn't the 19th century, Jungkook. Leavenworth is there. It might be a bit smaller than the one we know, but it's there." You assured him.

Then again, you're not even sure you've actually traveled back in time. Perhaps this is just some random alternate universe where Leavenworth doesn't even exist. 

Your current theory is that you can just wait this out. I mean, eventually, the effects of whatever drug you and Jungkook ingested will process through your system and you'll wake up. It's either that or you're already dead, or in a coma. Who knows! 

"Okay…" Jungkook sighs. "Look, Y/N...I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I should have been paying more attention and it was stupid of me to land us here." He confesses. 

"You're right. It was stupid of you. Jungkook," you stop. "You've done nothing to prove to me this year that you earned that position you're in. Don't get it twisted. I should have been the group manager." You watch his expression change from one of sympathy to regret. 

"I just refused to suck Kohen's dick, and he respects you more than he respects me," you say in a low voice. 

"Do you really feel that way?" He asks.

"Yes. Now, come on. We have to get there before it gets dark." 

Hesitantly, he follows along. 

Town is underwhelming. A plaza follows the main street, a few repair shops and self-standing diners line the way. A simple sign marks the town, decorated in a lavish font, contrasting the trite nature of the town. 

Cars dot the parking lot of an unsuspecting Danny's. That means that there's at least one person in there that knows what the fuck is going on. With newfound hope, you push through the door of the breakfast diner. 

The scent of sugary maple syrup hits your nose in an instant, the sound of clashing dishes and running water flooding your senses and almost overwhelming you. 

Jungkook pulls a menu from the server's pulpit and examines it with a delighted hum. "Not bad," he flips through it. 

You look on with him, viewing the laminated page with curiosity. "It's basically the same as we have back home." There's eggs and ham, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, golden brown pancakes, and a milkshake menu on the back.

It's evident that the crew is cleaning up for the night. The place is open 24/7, but they're not expecting traction past 7pm, apart from the truckers who pull over to sleep for the night and need something in their system before they smoke a cigarette and pass out. 

That waitress is glancing over at you while she gossips with the cook, as if she's in no hurry to serve. You don't mind it, as you're not particularly hungry. 

So while Jungkook is still deciding on how he's going to stuff his face, you're looking around for somebody who looks like they have a car, and is headed to Seattle. 

"What are you even gonna do there," Jungkook asks as he's waiting on his chocolate fudge sundae. The waitress brings it over and sets it down in front of him. He dips the spoon into the pool of fudge, shoves it in his mouth, and sucks it. 

"Well," you watch in disgust, "if there's anyone who can help us, they're sure as hell not in this deadbeat town…" Jungkook offers you a spoon. You decline, politely. 

"And you think someone might be able to help us in Seattle?" He laughs. 

"Yeah, maybe." 

"Let me get this straight. You think," he swings his spoon around. "That there might be an expert on our exact situation in nineteen-seventy…" He doesn't know what year it is. 

Briefly, Jungkook looks over at the drinking age poster at the bar and does some quick math. "--1973, that also would be willing to help us?" 

Looking back on it, it does sound stupid, but your situation is helpless, otherwise. "Got any other ideas, wise guy?" You grunt. 

"We should chill!" Jungkook smiles. "Enjoy the trip. Get away from those kids." He finishes his ice cream with one last cheeky swipe of the tongue. The spoon clicks in the glass it came in, catching the attention of the idle waitress. 

As much as you hate to admit it, he might be right. There may be no possible answer to this situation other than to relax and hope for the best. With this in mind, you sign the bill for-- four dollars?! 

"Ma'am, is this check correct? Four dollars and five cents?" You quietly inquire of the waitress. 

"Yes, ma'am. Inflation these days, right? It's the war. Don't worry about tip, okay?" She grabs the tab from your hand, leaving you puzzled. 

You suddenly remember something. In your left pocket is your wallet. You pull it out in front of Jungkook and shakingly remove two hundred dollar bills from its main pocket. "Jungkook...do you know how much one hundred dollars was in the seventies?" 

"No?" 

As a matter of fact, in your hand, was the equivalent of thirteen hundred dollars at the time. The camp always paid in cash for tax reasons, so it wasn't rare to receive old bank notes. Scrambling with what to do with all this cash, you find yourself in need of a place to think. 

"Let's get a room." 

"Slow down there, partner," Jungkook chuckles. 

"Not that kind. Come on." 

At the front desk of the inn next door, you got asked the dreaded question: "Awh, are you two newly wed?" What were you supposed to say, no? It would create controversy. You're pretty sure it was illegal to state otherwise. 

Watching you hesitate, Jungkook chimes in to save this conversation. "Yes! Yes we are. It's the last night of our road trip and we'd like a place to stay." 

With a careful smile, the woman at the front desk unhooks the key to room 135 and places it snugly in Jungkook's palm. "Don't you have too much fun in there." She winks. 

Never has he felt more uncomfortable. "We won't," he laughs, lightheartedly. You awkwardly tug him away from the lady and out the door of the lobby. 

"Give me those," you snatch the key from his hand and unlock the door, shoving it open. "Ugh," you sigh and collapse on the bed. 

"I can't believe she thought we were dating," Jungkook stands in front of the mirror, checking himself out and rearranging the stray strands of hair on his head. "Right, Y/N? That's so funny…" 

"What? No it isn't. The only reason a guy and a girl hung out together like this at the time was because they were either dating or married," you say, matter-of-factly. 

"Oh," He stops fidgeting with himself and picks up a coffee cup. After a moment of contemplation, he says: "There is only...one bed." He gestures toward where you're generally laid down. 

"Sleep on the couch," you reply. "It folds out." 

"No it fucking doesn't?" He stares. 

"Yes it does. Everything folds out," you insist. 

Jungkook stands beside the furniture with his hands on his hips, just staring at it before throwing the cushions across the room in a cartoonish fashion to discover that it does, indeed, fold out. 

"Why are you always doubting my judgement?" You snag. 

"Fuck! I don't know. You're just so stuck up sometimes," He smiles. 

You withhold a smile. He's right. 

He then begins making the bed, wrapping the fitted linen around the mattress and straightening out the sheet over it. You observe for a bit as he figures out how to dress the pillows by himself. Surprisingly, he's self-sufficient. This won't be as bad as you initially thought. 

You awaken at night to the creaking of Jungkook's bed. He's sitting up, taking his shirt off while looking out the window. His back is illuminated by the passing headlights of the trucks on the road, arriving from long cargo drives up the coast from California. 

He stands, and you close your eyes again to appear sleeping. 

Without a sound other than the tapping of the key against the room number, Jungkook walks out the door. You wonder where he has gone, but it couldn't have been far. You drift off to sleep in the following moment. 

He was floating, in the pool outside the inn. His eyes turned to the stars, he watched them as his lungs filled with air. Even as the sun rises, he sits to admire it reaching through the trees, as if they're calling to him, to commence another day. 

Much to your surprise, Jungkook isn't in his bed in the morning. In his stead is tossed, wrinkled bedding and a folded towel that he preferred to the goose-feather pillow. 

With your complimentary robe, you walk downstairs to greet him. He's got a plate of eggs, and he's going at it with a fork, casually. 

"There's a breakfast bar inside," he nods. "You should eat." 

"What about the car rental?" You ask quietly, so as to not push your voice. 

"They won't rent to us without ID," he replies, taking another forkful of eggs. "We're gonna have to hitchhike." 

You smack your teeth in regret.

 It's not like hitchhiking is the hardest thing to manage, especially here and now, but you can't say you're looking forward to being squished in the back of a stranger's car for hours with your coworker. 

"Okay," you confirm. 

That's how you end up in the back of a caravan headed to Seattle for a pop festival that's been going on.  

"So you're all travelers?" The woman in the passenger seat asks, over her shoulder. "We are too." 

Jungkook shakes his head. "We are time travellers," he corrects. You roll your eyes. 

"So that means you know stuff about the future, right?" The guy seated across from the both of you asks. He's smoking a cigarette with his limbs spread across the bench, taking up as much space as possible. "How does the war turn out?" 

"Oh...she can answer that for you," Jungkook points to you. 

The guy raises his eyebrows at you, as if asking you the same question. "Uhm...we lose. We train South Vietnamese people to fight and we leave. We don't talk about it much…" you trail. 

Jungkook takes out a sandwich from a Denny's bag he got yesterday and puts it in your hands. "You forgot to eat," he frowns. 

"Thank you," you nod. You unwrap it and take a chunky bite out of it and continue chewing as they make conversation. You zone out after a while, in favor of taking some time to yourself. 

"Is that your girl?" The guy points as he's talking to Jungkook. You're asleep at this point, leaning against the cushioned seat as the vehicle rocks under you. 

"Her? No. She's my coworker. We're both having a bad trip, and it's my fault," he says, regretfully. 

"Ah," he grunts. "She looks exhausted." 

Jungkook turns and gazes at you, collapsed delicately against the swaying caravan with a dreamy pout on your lips. "Hmm…" he hums. "Yeah, she is." 

-

Here's the deal. Led Zeppelin is in town. Seattle is a port city, an up and coming city with thriving communities and a vibrant urban culture.

A group passes by where the van is parked. "Did you hear that song John Lennon put out?" One of the guys mentions. "It makes you think, doesn't it?" 

"You mean Imagine? That song's been out for two years." 

"Doesn't mean it isn't a jam!" He smiles brightly. 

Your feet hit the sod below and frown, realizing that John Lennon will die in the eighties. The temptation to warn them overcomes you, but you stop yourself.

"You okay?" Jungkook steps down with you, his eyes sweeping the park they've landed upon. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" you say with a sigh. Lifting your eyes up, you view the beautiful, infinite green expanse in front of you. It greets the baby blue sky where the horizon sits, trees blowing in the soft breeze. 

Jungkook pouts. "Don't know." 

Behind you, Curtis is gathering his things to hop out. He says goodbye to the both of you, and wishes you good luck. Jungkook promised he'd find him in the future, if he was still around. That was enough for him. 

Just like that, you're exactly where you need to be in order to find a mystic or a clairvoyant to tell the both of you what the fuck is going on. 

The booths were crammed in like oysters around the amphitheater. The closer you got, the more interesting the tents. It didn't take you long, though, to encounter a fortune teller. 

She was advertised as a prophet, but the reality was that she was just some white girl high off her rocker, sitting on a cushion before a low table. A jar stood on her table, full of crumpled dollar bills you doubt would pass a drug test. You stare for a little bit too long. 

"You two are lost," she laughs, gesturing for you to sit down. Jungkook follows suit, a little less present. "You've come to the right place." 

"I don't know if we have…" you challenge. 

"We'll see. Tell me, what brings you here?" The prophet grabs a handful of nuts from a clay bowl and flings them into her mouth. 

"My coworker here ordered drugs through...the mail," You realize that you wouldn't have been able to order anything off the internet at this time, "and he accidentally made us both overdose." 

She hums, wiping her hands on her leggings and nodding. "Yeah. Okay." 

"Somehow, we time travelled like fifty years in the past...and we don't know how to get back." It's a ridiculous claim to make, really, but there's no other plausible way to put it. 

"Okay," she hisses. "That's a weird situation. Have you tried flushing it out of your system? Drinking a lot of water, maybe even some juice?" 

You go back and forth in intensive conversation about options and solutions, which, quite frankly, bores the hell out of Jungkook. 

No, Jungkook has his eyes in the sky. He's watching all the kites. They float by so effortlessly, riding the gentle wind while guitarists play their whimsical tunes. Something blooms in his heart, a smile spreading across his wonderfilled face. 

"...so, I don't really quite know what to--" 

You're stopped by the prophet, pointing to Jungkook's wonderstruck expression. "Look," she hushes, "There's your answer." 

"Y/N, look!" He stands up and follows one of the paper kites, stumbling over his own feet. "That's so cool!" 

"Are you implying that all I need to do is be nice to him and we'll be back home?" you whisper at her. The prophet shrugs, hiding a smirk. 

You rise from the cushion and stuff a dollar in her jar, running toward where Jungkook is standing with one hand on his hip, his opposite hand shielding his eyes from the sun while you approach him.

"Hey, Y/N," he chirps. "It's a nice day out." 

You had forgotten how clean the Earth was, once. You felt the sun on your skin and for once didn't worry that it would cause the icebergs to melt. "Yeah, I guess it is." 

"So...Jungkook," you call for his attention. He pulls his eyes from the sky to look at you. "Would you like to go like...shopping?" 

"Shopping? Uhm...what would we buy?" He purses his lip and scratches his face. "Not that I don't want to go! It's just...for new clothes?" You can see the cogs turning in Jungkook's head about what's going on. 

"Yeah, for clothes. Together." You said the magic word. 

"Yes. Yeah, mhm!" He folds himself to pick up his bag, ready to follow you.

The prophet was right. All Jungkook seems to want is to get closer to you. It explains the small things, the considerate things he has done for you over the course of the last two days. It's possible that he might just like you. That thought has consequences. 

No offense to him, but you find him kind of annoying to deal with. He causes nothing but trouble for you, and the thought that he might have feelings for you just doesn't sit right with you. 

You know he's just trying to get you to loosen up a bit, but he's the one who got you both into this whole mess, and he's going to have to prove himself a good, responsible person before you consider your feelings for him. 

But! The heart wants what it wants. Inside of you, the start of an unprecedented attraction to Jungkook was growing against your best intentions, and your rational will. He was sweet. 

It would only be a matter of time before you fall victim to your own delusion of romance. Damn it.

"Uhm…" You hum. "We should head downtown." 

-

Jungkook plucked a pair of sunglasses off the rack and perched it on his nose, tapping you on the shoulder while you're exploring a variety of patterned shirts. You jump, and hit his shoulder in punishment. "Don't you scare me like that!" 

"Why not? It's funny," he puts them back and shrugs his shoulders, loosening his posture. His fingers twirl the band around his middle finger as he waits for you to find a decent long-sleeved shirt. "You look good in turtlenecks," he mentions. 

"Really?" You pick one off the rack and hold it up against your body. "Do you think it makes me look sophisticated?" You pose with it, jokingly. 

"It makes you look beautiful," he glances down to the floor. "Even more than...you already are, I mean." 

"Huh," you laugh. "What a gentleman." Turning to put the shirt back, you're ready to head out.

Jungkook takes his hands out of his pockets and starts scanning through the rack, himself. After a few, he leaves it alone.   

"Come on. Let's go find some new bottoms for you. You can't be walking around with the same old straight pair of jeans." You loop your arm around his and exit the store. 

Jungkook stops by a few windows to examine the styles of the era, occasionally making a few comments about how all of the models look so much older than they actually are. He points to the promotions, and rambles about which outfit he'd wear when. 

"I would wear this to the disco…" he gestures at an open-collared blue shirt paired with a belted wide-ankle light-wash pair of denim.  "And I would wear it with like...a badass chain?" He elaborates, looking to you for a reaction. 

You shake your head. "Why?" 

"Why not? I'd have chicks left and right, on either arm." He crosses his arms, 

"Is that what you want?" You ask. 

"I don't know, probably," he thinks. "What's your ideal type like? Dorks?" He pivots, almost defensively. 

"Hmmm…" you shake your head "no." 

With a look of surprise, almost hopeful, he asks, this time, genuinely: "Well, what's your type?" 

"It depends on the person. I'm not that shallow. If I like them, I like them," you say, a bit bluntly. "What does it matter…" 

"It doesn't," he quickly responds. "I think we should get lunch." 

The food court is a new staple of Americana at this point. The convenience of dining while you shop is viewed as revolutionary, even though it's relatively commonplace today. 

Actually, most food courts are dying back in 2022 because of the rise of online marketplaces such as Amazon, so eating at the mall should be an experience. 

"Do you want Chinese?" Jungkook stands in the center of the bustling mall, overlooking the extended lines to each restaurant kiosk. 

It's crowded. It's almost claustrophobic. "I don't like the looks of these lines…" 

"Find us a table. I will wait for us." Jungkook looks beyond the horde of people and picks out the shortest line. It's a Taco Bell that seems to be promoting a kind of dish called an Enchirito. Intrigued, he approaches the staff. 

"Hey," he leans against the pick-up counter. "What's this? Where's the crunchwrap?" Jungkook points up at the specialty menu. 

"The crunch-what?" An employee scoffs, sliding a burrito into an oven. 

"The crunchwrap! It's like a hard taco inside of a soft taco and it's like an octagon…" he describes it from memory. It's one of his top stoner snacks. 

"I don't think we have that, I'm sorry, man." He checks one more time, reading the fluorescent display of menu items above him. 

"Okay, so I'm about to blow your mind..." Jungkook speaks in a low voice as he comes closer to the poor serviceman. 

Elsewhere, you're sitting down at a booth. With no distraction, you're forced to observe the outside world. Conservations between people of all age groups weave into one another, lending themselves to your open ear. 

You cannot focus on one for longer than thirty seconds before something else draws your attention. You've noticed that the population of this food court is mostly young women. 

"When he comes back from war…" One voice chimes in from behind you. "We are going to start our family immediately!" She giggles. "No time to waste." Her friends explode with laughter around her, the implications of her speech intimidating them. 

And to think that you have the privilege of a large dating pool. If those girls knew the situation you were in, you're certain they'd find it ridiculous you haven't advanced, yet. Is it circumstance, or is it simply your hesitancy to step forward?

You'd consider yourself a confrontational person. Is it rash? Only by your standards. 

Jungkook comes by only a few minutes later, placing your tray between the two of you with an attitude of accomplishment. "The line isn't as long as it looks. They work fast," he winks. 

"Pf," you pinch a fry between your fingers and touch it to your lips. "Thanks," you smile. 

"Of course," he pulls his sleeves back and picks up his meal, his elbows propping themselves on the table. It is only then that you notice some women eyeing him in a way you definitely do not appreciate. 

"Do you think those girls are looking at you weird?" You ask, softly. 

"Them? They could be my grandma, Y/N. Don't be ridiculous," he assures you, munching on. 

"Their boyfriends are in Vietnam," you remind him. 

Jungkook sets down his meal and looks over at them, sneering. Quickly, they look away. "Would they go away if I kissed you?" He says. 

"Why does it matter, it's not like you'd kiss me just to get them to stop staring?"  

Jungkook nods his head from side to side, considering it as he chews, avoiding your eyes. "It's one way to stop their staring…" 

You scoff in disbelief. "What are you suggesting right now?!" 

"If you're so against it, then nevermind!" He turns cherry red. Jungkook rubs his forehead in embarrassment, and looks away. 

"It's not that I'm against it, Jungkook…" 

He clears his throat and straightens out his posture, taking another bite of his burrito. 

"Jungkook, I'm not against it!" You insist. 

Licking his cheek, he glances over to see if they're still watching, and they are. He rises from his seat and pecks your lips. 

You freeze instantly, unable to speak for a solid minute as you process the feeling. "Ah...not gonna lie, I thought that might have taken us back." 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Like it's a fairytale?" 

"Yeah, kind of like a fairytale," you reply. You look over at the girls. They're no longer interested in you or him, and have continued on to talk about something else. 

Jungkook swipes his thumb along his lips, stretching his face. "Hm," he croons. 

"Stop thinking about it," you say. 

"Who says I'm thinking about it?!" He whines. 

"I see it on your face," you laugh. 

"It's my head. I can have thoughts, y/n." Jungkook reaches over and takes his soda cup from the tray. He's right. As much as you like having the moral high ground in situations like these, and as stubborn as you are, he can think about what he's done to you as much as he'd like. "And fortunately for you, I have all the information I need." 

"Think what you want," you throw another fry in your mouth. "They stopped looking at us. That was the whole point." 

"But that's not all of it, is it?" He leans forward, confronting you. The nauseous, adrenaline-rush feeling of the beginning overcomes you. You feel cornered, in the best way. "Why do you hide like you do…" he says in a low tone. 

"From yourself...from your wants…" he sighs with a sympathetic gaze. "You want something from me, we need it from one another…" he stops. "Let's not play cat and mouse." 

"We can talk about this at home," you say, quietly, so as not to invoke or say something you don't mean. 

"No," he insists. "Would you stop running from me?" He frowns. 

You bow your head apologetically. He stares in anguish. "I apologized. I'm sorry for bringing you here. I know you didn't want to be here with me, and I know I haven't been the best person but I've tried my best to take care of you for the past two days…" 

His anguish transforms into sadness with a pang of regret. "I fell in love, and I have been in love for a while, I just didn't...know how to tell you." 

You lift your head, your eyes flooding. "This is how you feel, then?" you pout. 

"You've always been a sap," he takes his thumb and carefully sweeps it under your waterline. "Come on now," he hushes. 

"Is it true, Jungkook?" You sigh. 

"Yes," he smiles. "Yes, of course it is." 

You rub your arm softly, intimidated by the public eye. You'd rather have this conversation privately. 

Jungkook glances around and gets up from the booth, takes the scraps to the garbage and guides you out of the food court and into an empty lounge between the gendered restrooms. 

He sits you down on one of the cushions and holds your hand as you speak, facing toward him. "Okay," you say. You alternate your focus between either of his eyes before you speak. 

"It's hard for me to confess this sort of thing. I am stubborn," you preface. "But...I love you too," you whisper. A weight is lifted from your chest, and you can breathe clearly again. 

Jungkook's face lifts, leaning closer to your forehead as your hands reach his visage and caress him. You exhale deeply. He nudges forward and kisses your lips, an elongated and delicate kiss that envelops you into his loving touch. 

Still scared, you hold on to him for dear life. It's as if time freezes-- and it does. 

All sound ceases, and you lose yourself in the feeling of his embrace. 

Suddenly, a person dressed in a camp t-shirt and a security badge barges into the lounge and stands before the both of you in disbelief. "What the fuck?!" She exclaims. 

"Where have you been? The camp has been waiting for the older kids to finish lunch for like two hours!" 

At that moment, you withdraw from him and, with eyes blown wide, rise from the couch. "We're back? Are we in Seattle?" You urgently ask her. 

"Yeah! Yes! It's our first day!" She looks back at Jungkook, with lip gloss on his cheek. "Get yourselves together!" 

You turn to him, giggling at the state you left him in. He's even more surprised than you are, wrapping his mind around just what happened. "Uhm...yes!" He shakes it off. "Yes, yes, gather the kids." 

You help him up and fix his hair. "...we'll talk more later," you sigh, grinning from ear-to-ear. 

"Of course," he pecks your lips. "I'll gather them," he says and leaves the lounge.

You're left to your own devices, and find that you need to use the bathroom. You scan the room for empty stalls and catch a look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is longer, but that's the only indicator that time has passed at all. 

An old woman comes out of one of the stalls and watches you for a little too long before washing her hands and leaving. 

"My hello kitty ricecooker better have fucking arrived," you grunt as you follow her out. 

-

a/n: please leave comments 🥺

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

_____________________________________________________________

“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte