#can you believe it campbell campers? i have spent not one not three but two afternoons spacing out because somebody's response to a meme!

[missjessefantastico]

time to play nobody's favorite game! is this person truly annoying or am i just a judgy bitch?

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

G U Y S

I know I cry a lot about Max, Nikki, and Neil but can I just say that I live for their dynamic? And imma just throw a lot of observations about them here and this may get incoherent but whatever?

1.) They're actually pretty touchy-feely with each other and god I never noticed until recently but like??? They a r e??? Like Neil putting his hand on Max's back in Jermy Fartz. Like how Max grabbed Nikki's hand and d r a g g e d her away from the danger in Night Of The Living Ill. Or how Nikki just kinda clung to Neil when she was sick in the episode Into Town. Or how Nikki grabbed the boys into a hug in the Christmas Special. Even as early as the first episode they were grabbing each other and Max put his arms around the other's shoulders to guide them away. I know a lot of us are like "they aren't really the publicly clingy or affectionate types" but the thing is that they really kinda are. We don't always see it because it's not called attention to all that often but next time you watch an episode that's heavily trio centred count how many times they touch each other casually and you'll see what I mean. For example, I counted four casual grabs and touches in Spooky Island. Which doesn't seem like much. Until you remember the fact that this is a ten minute episode, and that's a touch every 2.5 minutes on average. Which IS a lot. Not to mention how damn close they were. There were quite a few moments where I fully expected them to grab each other or something because they were just completely invading one another's personal space.

Look how close they stand to one another. Compare this to normal conversation distance

When in a conversation generally your attention is locked onto the other person. Generally you'll stand closer to someone if you're talking to them than if you're not. Yet the two images I showed you before are of Max, Nikki, and Neil NOT talking or even really acknowleging one another. Compare that to the screenshot of Nikki actually engaged in conversation with Jasper.

If you thought maybe the former three images were just a perspective issue or something...no. Max, Nikki, and Neil genuinely do stand abnormally close. Look at this picture where Max and Nikki have literally no reason to leave a huge gap from Jasper yet they still do.

And when I said they disreguarded personal space I don't even mean standing this strangely close to each other?!? I mean like when Nikki threw herself two inches away from Max to the point where he jumped back a little. I mean like when Max pointed at Neil and Neil had to move his body a little because he was startled by how close it was. I mean like when Nikki leaned across Neil to jab her finger in Max's personal space, effectively getting abnormally touchy with both of them at the same time. Note that all these observations are from ONE EPISODE that's only ten minutes long! Imagine everything that could be observed if I went out of my way to check how touchy they were in every episode? This is especially impressive if we look at who we're talking about. Max is the type to reject touching from people. He's brushed off or shoved away other's who try to touch him multiple times. But not these two.

2.) Max is a l o t softer with Nikki and Neil than with anyone else. Again, let's take Spooky Island for example. When they discover the torture chamber, Max has absolutely no issues whatsoever telling Jasper the fuck off. He taunted Jasper, who was clearly frightened, going "Oh no! We have to find ghosts and monsters! Remember?!?" And keep in mind he was mocking and yelling here. Then Neil interjects and you know what? Max's tone actually softens. Yeah he still tells Neil that he's wrong. But Max isn't nearly as hostile. He sure as hell didn't mock or taunt Neil. And what's more? Max didn't say one word to Nikki. Yeah when he first walked in he started to tease her but as soon as she made it clear that she was frightened he just completely stopped and turned his attention onto Jasper. And you can see this in a l o t of episodes, not just this one. Max is still a jerk with Nikki and Neil but he doesn't cross the line. He doesn't yell for too long. Max...he doesn't want to hurt them. He doesn't want to see them fail. He doesn't want them angry or god forbid sad. Max may hurt them sometimes but he doesn't fuck with them just for the sake of upsetting them. And especially in early seasons, that's more than can be said for anyone else because he does go out of his way to torment the other's and he's never been as openly apologetic for anything in his life than for the few times he has upset Nikki and Neil. It's also worth noting that Neil is more gentle with Nikki than other's. For example he expects her to ruin his experiments and just gets kinda salty about it after but he clearly forgives her? Max and Neil also forgave her when she betrayed them for Ered in Camp Cool Kidz. Like..immediately. With no bargaining. They were back to hanging out together instantly before Nikki even apologized.

3.) They're always together. I think I made a separate post about this? But it's the truth. They eat together. They sleep in the same tent (actually I'm not sure? Max said in episode 1 "I'll show you to our tent" and they have no issues sneaking out together all the time in the middle of the night- note that they don't all have that much access to technology so coming up with a time to meet up may be hard- implying that Nikki sleeps with them? And there are only two 'beds' I think but doubling up doesn't seem that unlikely for these three? So until proven otherwise I'm assuming they sleep in the same tent). They have DAILY adventures together. Like scheduled. Like they gotta spend it together. In Eggs Benefits Max wanted nothing to do with the adventure yet he followed Nikki and Neil anyway and spent the whole day letting Nikki drag him around despite whining the whole time. In Spooky island both Nikki and Neil want to leave at different points of the episode but they continue to follow Max anyway. These three really do just stick together all the time and maybe they've been branching off a bit more lately but they still spend a hell of a lot of time together? Like most of their time if I'm not mistaken?

4.) Nikki and Neil are...really protective over Max? Like I'm sorry but did you guys see the Foreign Exchange Campers episode? The moment Max decided to team up with someone else they flipped their shit. I mean, Max literally told them it was just so he could win. It was clear he wasn't actually choosing the other campers over Nikki and Neil? Like it's obvious they were still friends? Yet we still got lines like "What about us? We're kinda a thing!", "We dont need you anyway Max! And even if we did, we're just going to pretend we don't in the hopes that you'll be jealous and we won't feel as sad!", "I just can't believe he would ditch us! After all our adventures?!?", and "He looks so happy! At least he's found someone who can make him smile" like, god, they treat this like a breakup or something when Max just wanted to win the contest. Like they knew it wasn't personal. They knew he was just being a jerk and he didn't like the Foreign kids more than them. Yet look at this.

Look at these creeps watching him from the bushes instead of competing!

They were so volatile too? They called Brian "Kim-Chi" despite knowing damn well that Nurf wasn't calling him the right name. Nikki literally yelled "Shut up commie" at Vera. I believe Neil outright told them point blank "Max is OUR friend and you can't have him!".

This isn't the only example of them being defensive about Max (almost to a fault) but it's the biggest one off the top of my head.

5.) They l o v e each other. Nikki saying "You know what else I love about Christmas? You guys (Max and Neil)" or Neil saying "We were so afraid of foreigners taking what we love (Max) that we.." , etc. Like??? They're so very sweet? They really love each other guys and I'm screaming because they're so good? And Max hasn't outright said he loves them but god, we know he does. Like how he "didn't do this camp campbell" but "for you guys (Nikki and Neil)" when he pulled off this difficult convoluted scheme to get the camp back. They love and care about and support one another even with all their issues and it's just so good? And the trio's overall relationship is ignored way too much. Can we just..please..talk about them more? As a trio? Please?

[mintchocolateleaves]

Match-Made (1/4)

Summary:  Whilst spying on David one day, trying to come up with new ways to break him, Max, Nikki and Neil come to realise that the man is... married? But - of course not. There's no way that could be true. It's - it's David. Who would marry him? It seems like they're going to have to figure it out.

A/N: Y’all know I started to watch camp-camp, and this is the product of that. Hope you all enjoy. If formatting decides to fuck itself up, then here’s the AO3 link.

It had been just another one of those boring days at camp trying to keep themselves entertained. Skipping out on awful camp activities with poor, crappy resources, and trying to come up with an adventure of their own was nothing short from normal for them.

Nikki had wanted something more fun, Neil had wanted something a little less mind-numbing, and quite honestly, Max just wanted out.

Any time away from David and that overbearing intensity would be a godsend, and so leaving behind the god-awful cross-stitching camp hadn’t been a difficult decision to make.

Sure, they’d have to deal with David’s poor attempts at scolding them later, but they were going to have to hear it whether they disappeared for the day or not. The counsellor had a habit of calling them out on every ‘inappropriate’ thing. For swearing, for being mean, or cruel, or whatever else fell outside of overbearingly happy children.

Newsflash David, you’re telling kids to stop being fucking kids.

Either way, they just needed to get away from him for a while. To be in a David-free zone for just a little longer than the eight hours they slept.

“I miss Saturdays,” Nikki said, finally, as if the day had been cancelled. As if it wasn’t Monday, and they hadn’t only just had the weekend to themselves. “We always get to go into the forest on Saturdays.”

Well, technically they were in the forest now – all the fucking time, really, since they were stuck at this shitty camp – but they were allowed to roam a little further during the weekends.

“We go into the forest all the week,” Neil said, tone bordering on a whine, “I want it to be Saturday so I can go on a computer without someone telling me I’m being antisocial.”

Max shrugs his head, jumps over a log in the pathway and says, “You know why you guys miss Saturdays so much?”

He phrases it by a question, but really, he doesn’t want them to offer any answers. He just wants his friends to wait for the answer, to anticipate the scheme that might be forming in his head.

“I just said why I missed Saturdays,” Nikki says.

“Because the adults don’t have to spend all their time with us,” Max says. “Because we’re not stuck doing shitty activities, and the counsellors leave us the fuck alone as long as we’re not murdering each other.”

Nikki nods emphatically, and for a moment, it’s almost possible to see the memories of last weekend swimming through her eyes. Possible to see how they’d been left alone for a full day until she tried to throw Space-kid across the lake in the mechanised sling-shot she’d had Neil help her make.

“There’s no way we can stop that though,” Neil says after a while, and from the way his nose scrunches, it’s clear that the boy has spent time trying to figure out ways to achieve more computer time, but so far, has come up short. “We’re lucky we only have to do five days a week of activities.”

That’s alright, Max is more of the diabolical genius of the three of them anyway.

“I didn’t sign up for any of these shitty activities,” Max says, “and I’m sick to shit of being forced to do them.”

“…Revolution time?”

A sigh. “No Nikki, we tried that last week, it didn’t work.”

“Part two could be better though.”

Max appreciates the thought, honestly, he does. But the last time they revolted, he’s ended up shirtless, fighting back against the man and his other camp mates, because they’d all thought Erid a better leader than him.

Fuck that noise.

“What we need,” he continues, “is to find a way to make the counsellors agree to leave us alone.”

Nikki’s eyes shine, and she jumps forward as she realises what he means. She shakes his shoulders back and forth, ignoring the scowl she receives as Max tries to push her back. “We change the calendar so that every day is Saturday!”

Well – uh, not exactly what he meant, but the sentiment kind of stands. Sure, why the fuck not.

“Make every day Saturday.”

Neil, always the one who questions the plans, says, “I doubt we can just convince people that every day is Saturday.”

Fuck, honestly, Max thinks that they probably could if they came up with a crazy enough story about inter-dimensional time travel, and Groundhog Day. David would probably buy it, because the man’s a fucking idiot.

Convincing Gwen that the day was just repeating itself wouldn’t be so easy though. What with how often she read those werewolf fanfictions on her phone all the time, she’d go onto her email searching for any updates and immediately know the truth.

Maybe if they found a way to commandeer her phone so she wouldn’t be able to search things all day…?

He needs to stop.

“That’s a mindfuck that can wait,” Max says, “but we so could. No, we get them to leave us alone through blackmail.”

If it were anyone else but the kids at camp, talk of blackmail would be met with horror, or confusion. But here, at Camp freaking Campbell, he receives two looks of equal contemplation, considering how easy such a task would be.

It all comes down to blackmailing three people, essentially.

Quartermaster, who they kind of… don’t really need to? He tends to stick to himself, which is always good because Max is pretty sure that the man is a fucking sociopath.

Gwen, who – well, she doesn’t really care enough about the camp, so it’ll be really easy to blackmail her. They can find something easily enough – it’s always simple to narrow down what she cares about, since she doesn’t feign caring about other things.

The person who’ll be the hardest, will be David.

“Does David even have anything that we could blackmail him with though?” Nikki asks, “he’s like, so shiny and bright.”

Max scowls. “Someone like him, is bound to have some things he’s keeping secret from us.”

He still doesn’t believe that someone like that, someone so bright and happy, doesn’t keep things hidden beneath a layer of faux optimism. He’s probably got some fucked up secret that they just need to figure out.

“Maybe,” Neil says, “but it’s David.”

Max crosses his arms as if to say, he doesn’t care. Their new task of the day, is to spy on David and find a way to blackmail and ruin his life. And oh yeah, get the whole Saturday being every day thing put in place.

Honestly, just messing with David seems like it could have been the initial plan, but the others are more likely to help out if there’s a clear reason behind it.

…Well.

Actually, fuck that, he probably could have just said it. Nikki loves anything chaotic, and Max is pretty sure that Neil is still outraged over the lack of a proper lab at the camp.

“We’re going to find a way to fucking blackmail David guys,” Max says, crossing his arms. “And when we do, every day, will be fucking Saturday.”

-

Which leads them to now, using the other campers as a distraction, some early set disaster as a distraction, so that they can clearly search the counsellors cabin. The place has fucking air con in here.

Max resists the urge to cut the wires of the air con and puts it in mind for later instead. Why the fuck do the counsellors get to be chilled during the evenings when the rest of them are stuck in fucking tents?

Yeah, there’s a bit of a imbalance in the way they’re being treated, and Max isn’t blind to it. This is exactly why he rebels against the man.

“I ask to watch TV and I get told I’m not taking advantage of nature and my surroundings,” Neil says, as he pushes the button, the screen flicking on, greeting them with grey static.

The sound of static is like a bursting explosion, and Max leans forward, past Neil to shut the TV off before anyone hears, before the sound can give them away.

“We’re meant to be being stealthy Neil,” Nikki says, and from her, it seems almost hypocritical. Although – well, she is okay at being stealthy sometimes, he supposes.

“I don’t understand why the sound was turned up so high though,” Neil says. He pauses, “I mean, your hearing doesn’t go that bad by twenty.”

Who knows, Max thinks. His twenties are an entire lifetime away and he’s not really thinking about the quality of his hearing.

“Right,” Max says. “But we’re here for blackmail material, not a hearing test Neil, jeez.”

Neil just gives him a look, and says nothing.

But nah, loud TV isn’t a blackmail opportunity. Max reckons that Gwen turns it up so high so she can block out the sound of the camp when she’s not got to deal with them – or even to just block out David.

“Who cares,” Nikki says, and points towards the drawers by each bedside. It’s easy to tell whose side of the room is which based by which side has more sentimental crap in it.

David’s side has a photograph of the camp that’d been taken at the beginning of the summer, everyone lined up and pretending that they were happy to be in the photograph. It’s such a fake photo, but still the man has it framed, on the drawer, beside his alarm clock.

Gwen’s side doesn’t have an alarm clock, but maybe that’s because she’s sane and not a horrible morning person like David is. Always waking them up at ungodly times when quite frankly, he’d much rather they all get to sleep in.

“Nothing blackmail-y yet though,” Nikki says. With little regard for personal space, she pulls open the drawers, rifling through in a way not unlike a raccoon going through the trash.

“We’ll find something,” Max promises, standing beside her to peer into the drawers. Sometimes Nikki overlooks things that aren’t cool, or dangerous, and Max wants to make sure they don’t overlook anything.

“You keep saying that,” Neil says, “but what if we don’t find any blackmail material?”

Max pauses. Considers it. Then:

“We’ll make blackmail material then.”

Neil nods his head, as if this is perfectly logical, and not simply a dick move. Whatever, they want their Saturdays and there’s nothing else to do in this fucked up excuse for a camp anyway.

Max goes to open his mouth, pauses. Then, with the urgency of a thief knowing there’s a cop nearby, he grabs the sleeves of both Nikki and Neil, shoving his friends down and under David’s bed.

Hitting his head as he shuffles under, Neil lets out a small groan. Max resists the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up, since he also, should be shutting the fuck up.

Footsteps echo as the cabin doors swing open. Except, it doesn’t really swing open, but rather, is thrust open with far more energy than necessarily. David then, because Gwen would never open the door with such energy.

David’s voice follows suit.

For some reason, there is a hint of stress – not unhappiness, but an urgency that he shows sometimes, whenever there’s a task he wants to start but they’ve hit time delays. Which is strange, because Max hasn’t ever thought of David as someone who knows what urgency means.

“Of course, I didn’t forget,” David calls, and then, after the door closes, his voice quieter: “Oh dang, I can’t believe I forgot to pick up the flowers.”

Flowers?

Max shares a look between his friends. David doesn’t usually pick up flowers, but rather, heads into the meadows to pick his own. He’d done it when they’d heard one of the women in town were ill, and another time when he’d –

Oh god, he’s totally got a date, right?

David’s a fucking romantic like that, of course he’d want to give someone flowers. God, even if they don’t have any

Their camp counsellor grabs his phone from his pockets, dials a number and holds it up to his ears. It’s impossible to hear the dial tone from under the bed, so Max reckons he’s going to have to find a way to infer everything from just David’s side of the conversation.

Not that it’s very difficult to do. David doesn’t really hide conversations.

“Oh hi Mr. Foster, it’s David, from Camp Campbell.” There’s a pause, and then, sheepishly, as he rubs the back of his neck, “yeah, I completely forgot the pick up for the bouquet was yesterday, I was caught up with activities–”

Another pause.

“You didn’t hold the bouquet back even the extra da–” David runs a hand through wispy red hair, “yeah, I know you don’t hold them back for customers who don’t pick them up but this is me – you did my wedd-”

Max has to slap a hand over Nikki’s mouth to stop the noise that builds against her tongue. Beside him, Neil leans up to pinch himself. David having had a wedding implies marriage – and who the fuck would marry that asshole?

“No, I know. I know. Can I get a bouquet made quickly then?” Another pause. “I understand it’s extra, but it’ll be our anniversary, and I–”

For a moment, there is silence. Then, a long, relieved silence is breathed into the air, almost like a dying gasp, almost like a gulp of someone who’s forgotten how to inhale.

“You’re the best sir,” David says, “-yeah, if you still have those lilac peonies that we had at the wedding, I just know she’ll love them. Yeah, thanks sir. I’ll pick them up tomorrow morning. No delays this time.”

The phone call must end, because David slips it back into his pocket, takes a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“That’s all dealt with then,” he says, “now back to today’s activities!”

Max can hardly keep himself quiet for the time it takes David to leave the cabin. He doesn’t know how the others manage it. They wait until the door is closed again, until they hear footsteps fade away into nothingness.

Then, slowly, the three campers slide out from under the bed.

“What the fuck was that?” Max says.

“David never mentioned being married before,” Nikki says, “I wonder if his wife knows how to fight a bear! I’d only marry someone who could fight a bear.”

Neil doesn’t say anything. When Max looks at him, the boy shrugs his shoulders, as if there are no words to decipher how the knowledge has thrown him.

“No, but seriously,” Max continues, crossing his arms. “Who the fuck would marry David?”

It looks like they’re going to have to find out.

[forestwater87]

Secret Santa 2018 - Chapter 1

Hello! So I participated in @campcamp-secretsanta​ again this year . . . although I’m afraid that I did go a little overboard. My recipient, @pikablob​, asked for Gwenvid and Dadvid and was okay with both fluff and angst, and I’m playing with the idea a little bit, but in order to do that well, it’s looking like it’s going to turn into a 4-to-5-chapter fic (which has no name, as of yet. Suggestions are welcome). Because I know “Read More”s don’t always work, especially on mobile, and I don’t want to make people scroll past over 20 pages, I’m going to post the story in chapters -- two today, and ideally one each day through Christmas. (Once it’s all completed, it’ll go up on AO3.)

It’s not a Christmas-themed fic, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Happy holidays!

He decides that this will be a healing year, a fixing and replacing and making-things-new kind of year.

They all need a little bit of that, he believes.

CHAPTER ONE: NURF

It starts when Gwen mentions that she doesn’t have anywhere to live after the summer, that she’ll have to move back in with her parents unless she finds something better.

(“And, like, anything better. This old guy in the park asked me if I wanted a sugar daddy and I was thinking about it.”)

When David suggests she stay at the camp year-round like he does, he fully expects she’ll turn him down. When she half-smiles and says that it’s better than any of her ideas, he thinks she’s kidding, chuckles numbly and looks back down at his phone.

When she doesn’t make any more plans to move out, he wonders if maybe she’d meant it.

When she starts peppering him with questions about the rest of the year, how he makes money and keeps himself busy and keeps the place from falling apart and keeps himself from freezing or starving to death, he realizes that she’s completely serious, that she’s serious about living here, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek raw to keep from grinning. Because when she says it’s better than nothing she means he’s better than nothing, that she prefers his company at the very least to that of her parents or of strangers and up until this moment he hadn’t ever considered that she might think he was better than literally anything.

So when she critiques his plans and makes her own, when she buys two rattling space heaters for the cabin and when she leaves for a whole weekend and returns with the rest of her life’s belongings in the back of the campmobile, David is quietly, glowingly happy.

(He is even more happy when she finally muscles past the mean little voices in her head and kisses him. They’re in the middle of Rowing Camp and they’re supposed to be watching the campers but they’re in a child-sized rowboat on the lake under blue sky and fluffy white clouds, and when she kisses him he almost forgets all of those things and nearly topples them both into the water.)

(He is even more happy when he realizes that kiss wasn’t a one-time fluke, but apparently a pattern, something to be repeated so many times he loses count.)

(And he’s the happiest he’s ever been -- quietly again, though, a warm gentle bubbling kind of happiness because he knows how defensive Gwen gets when she’s embarrassed -- when she finally admits that it’s not because she has no other options and it’s not because she’s bored, but because she just happens to like him better than either of them ever realized.)

So it begins.

The predictable doesn’t happen, and Max’s parents show up at the end of the summer to take him home. Both David and Gwen let out a sigh of relief, because the boy’s constant mutterings that they don’t care about him and wouldn’t bother to show up had been getting to them, and until he’s safely ensconced in the back of a ratty green two-door sedan they weren’t fully convinced Max wasn’t going to be left behind.

They spent so much time worrying about the predictable, however, that the unpredictable slips completely under their noses until the hours grow heavy and golden and damp, the threat of mosquitos looming as the air cools, and they look around and realize that something has gone wrong, and a camper has been left behind. It just isn’t the one they’d been prepared for.

Mr. Nurfington, an impatient female voice tells Gwen over the phone, hasn’t lived at this number for three weeks. He’s wanted for possession and resisting arrest -- what they might elevate to aggravated assault, the landlady adds, the coolness dropping from her tone as the conversation turns toward gossip, and Gwen should just hear what the police found in his trailer -- “but nobody’s heard a thing from him. His lease expires in two months and as soon as it does, I’m putting all his stuff on the lawn and the coons can have it.”

(Gwen sincerely hopes she means raccoons.) “Did he leave any contacts?”

Just his wife, who won’t be released for another sixteen months -- longer, if she keeps starting fights with the other inmates. There’s an uncle, Gwen knows, but a little digging reveals that he was sentenced to twenty years less than a decade ago, on charges that turn her stomach.

She sets down the phone and puts Nurf’s papers away, and tries to figure out how to explain all this to the two redheaded children sitting on the dock. Two very different versions, she decides, and calls David inside to give him something almost indistinguishable from the truth except that some of the more unsavory details are politely omitted, because at least one of them deserves to sleep that night and for some reason Gwen feels like David’s faith in the world ought to be protected.

Grimy and sweaty from the cabin’s closed-in air, she goes to the showers to wash away everything she’s just learned and leaves David to tell Nurf the version of the story they’ve agreed upon: that his father is gone, nobody is coming to pick him up, but it’s okay because they have a second bedroom in the cabin and this will surely be all better by tomorrow.

It isn’t, and only David is surprised.

It’s a good thing they have a bus, because the Sleepy Peak school transportation system won’t come pick Nurf up all the way at Camp Campbell. Of course, he flatly refuses to let QM drive him to school in a full-sized bus, which neither David or Gwen can really argue. Which leaves her with two options: either dropping Nurf off at school in the campmobile every morning before killing a half hour reading fanfiction on her phone before her job at Camp Corp begins, or driving the exhaust-belching, dangerously clanking bus to work and getting a few minutes of extra sleep.

She decides David is less likely to get himself killed with the bus than with Nurf, and resigns herself to a deeply uncomfortable morning commute.

The most surprising thing she learns on these quiet, sullen mornings is that Nurf is . . . a morning person. Not like David, of course -- no one is quite like David -- but he doesn’t drag his feet, is always sitting by the flagpole with his backpack (new, cheap like it’s made out of old tarp, all they could afford) between his feet when she staggers outside with a to-go cup of coffee and a fistful of David’s trail mix. Nurf doesn’t talk, but he’s attentive; he draws nonsense patterns in the dew on the Campmobile’s windows, and after a few weeks of this strange arrangement he’s comfortable enough to flip through the radio stations.

He likes classical music. David will tell her that he once asked to turn up the Farmer’s Almanac.

(Gwen confesses to David one night that she’s halfway convinced he’ll become a serial killer or something. It’s one of the few serious fights they’ve had, though less a fight than her sitting in shock-stone silence while he gets splutteringly, hand-wringingly angry at her. Tells her that she can’t ever say anything like that ever again -- can’t even think it -- that they’re counselors year-round now and that means never, ever giving up on their campers -- that if -- that as a child -- that he knows what it’s like to be a lost cause and Nurf will never feel like that as long as he’s at Camp Campbell, and that he needs her to be on board because this is hard and scary and he can’t do it alone. Even if their campers weren’t . . . such unique individuals, he would need her, and she can’t ever -- ever -- )

(He’s red-faced and shaking when he runs out of breath or out of words, she can’t tell which, and she tugs him half into her lap and kisses his temple and tells him that of course Nurf will be fine, they’ll all be fine, and she didn’t mean it and it’s okay. And she listens to his breathing even out and, not for the first time, she hates David’s father with every ounce of her being.)

So she trusts Nurf, for David’s sake. And she tries to understand him, for all of theirs.

The seasons will change one more time before she finds herself truly liking him, but she thinks maybe that’s just because neither of them are as good at trusting or understanding as David is.

The fall settles into a pattern of quiet cars and loud buses, of Summer Camp Extended -- which is how David likes to think of it, maybe needs to think of it, because the alternative is that he’s become a father of an aggressive boy the rest of the world forgot about -- where the activities are school for Nurf and work for himself, where the afternoons are spent trying to remember seventh-grade math, buying groceries, waiting for Gwen to come home from a job that demands much longer hours than it offers pay. Sometimes there are regular camp activities, too, when he can cajole Nurf into going for a hike or learning how to fish (though they can’t eat anything they catch in Lake Lilac; the fish there have been declared dangerously mutated).

He spends his mornings as a bouncer at Muffin Tops -- Bonquisha got him the job, and he knows that he looks wiry and weedy and not all that intimidating but the crowd is much calmer during the day than it will get as the evening rolls around, and he believes he can take care of himself if he needs to. (And he has to admit, he enjoys the funny looks his school bus gets when people cross the parking lot.) The customers are polite, if not especially chatty, his coworkers are friendly, the job is mostly standing outside and enjoying the fresh air. It suits him -- strange, unexpected, but surprisingly well-fitting.

David isn’t nearly as adept at metaphors as Gwen, but he thinks quite a few things in his new life could be described that way.

This is the first time he’s able to take just one part-time job, and let the rest of his hours go toward fixing up the camp, and so every patched-up set piece and wobbly table leg repaired he considers a gift from Gwen, who is answering phones and fetching coffee so that he can make Camp Campbell his own, not just legally but in spirit.

He decides that this will be a healing year, a fixing and replacing and making-things-new kind of year.

They all need a little bit of that, he believes.

David isn’t used to devoting this much attention to a single camper. (Not even Max, who has always been a special case.) It’s surprisingly difficult, this one-on-one closeness; he finds he much prefers the scatterbrained chaos of a room full of children. It suits the way he thinks, bouncing frenetic energy, instead of this careful plodding observation and cautious trial-and-error.

It would probably be different with almost any other camper, he has to admit. Nikki, for example -- she constantly needs to be moving, and he would be running to keep up. Harrison would probably be causing trouble, fires he would literally have to put out. Nerris, who can talk for hours at a time about the things that interest her. Preston swanning around the empty Mess Hall, always trying to find an audience.

Nurf, however, isn’t like the children who are sparkling firecrackers that dance and blaze until they get tired and fizzle out. Nor is he like the quieter campers, who still get bored and act out in ways they undoubtedly think are random but really are more like predictable bursts. But Nurf doesn’t seem to have much energy; he goes from school to homework to whatever little activity David can talk him into to bed without seeming depressed or bored. Gwen suggests that maybe Nurf would act out and bully the other campers because he was overwhelmed by the constant noise and activity, and after a week or two of helpless observation, he decides she must be right and leaves the kid to his own devices. Maybe he just really is quiet; it occurs to David that he only ever really noticed Nurf when he was causing problems, and it pains him that this realization comes just as he makes the decision to step back.

“Of course you ignored the well-behaved ones,” Gwen tells him one evening, curled up against his side with her cheek on his shoulder. “What are we supposed to do, let the Problem Trio destroy the camp while we try to get Ered to drop the ‘too cool to talk to anyone’ act?”

He knows she’s right, but it doesn’t make him feel any better about withdrawing. He throws himself further into camp rehabilitation instead, letting Nurf do homework and play on his phone (finally relinquished to him at the end of the summer) and do whatever else fills his afternoons, and tries to ignore the prickling panic that lingers at the back of his mind and tells him this is not okay, this is not how a Camp Campbell counselor should act.

The problem is, of course, that up until this fall it’s exactly how he’s always acted.

The other problem is that he and Gwen were wrong about the kind of person Nurf is; he isn’t a firecracker, no, and he’s not a Max-like schemer and instigator, a controlled burst of dynamite. But just because the tension bubbles under the surface doesn’t mean it’s not there, and eventually it has to boil over.

The tipping point appears to be David asking over the dinner table how his homework is going. He’s deemed it a nice, neutral topic of conversation, one that isn’t likely to veer into uncomfortable directions about his home life or the bizarre situation they’ve all found themselves in or what’s going to happen next. It’s safe and familiar ground, and whenever he’s grasping for something to talk about he returns to it gratefully, knowing it’ll never trigger a landmine.

Until it does.

“Sure, let’s just talk about homework,” he snaps, the hint of his slight damp lisp becoming more pronounced with irritation -- not that anyone would dare point it out to him. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Is my homework done? Do I need help with my homework? How was school, and what kind of homework did you get?” He slams his hands down on the table, making the dishes (and Gwen and David) jump. “Do you even consider the psychological ramifications of making an impressionable child feel like they are nothing but the sum of their academic achievements? And I am impressionable!” he adds, shoving his chair back and standing up; David notices for the first time that he’s grown a bit over the summer, enough to almost loom over them while they’re still seated. “I’m still just a kid, you know!”

He swallows, trying to find the right words (and keeping a careful eye on their silverware). “Well, of course you are, Nurf,” he begins carefully, with the distinct impression that he’s feeling his way through waist-deep water in the dark. “But it’s our job to make sure that you’re . . .”

How does he finish that sentence? ‘Okay?’ ‘Happy?’ ‘Safe?’ He’s not sure Nurf is any of those things, and the thought of being responsible for them makes his stomach coil and his fingers shake.

“That you’re engaging in an activity,” Gwen cuts in smoothly, placing her hand over David’s underneath the table. Her touch and the last-minute rescue both hit him like a lifeline. “Since camp isn’t in session, school is kinda your activity.”

Something flickers in Nurf’s expression, doubt cutting through the increasing red-faced belligerence, and David thanks whatever higher power might be out there for Gwen. She’s always understood the more difficult campers better than he does; it must be the Psychology degr --

Clouds roll in dark and heavy behind his eyes. “Why does everybody sign me up for activities I don’t want?” He picks up a napkin and began shredding it -- David wonders if he picked it up from Gwen, or if he’s always had that nervous habit. “I never asked to go to school, you know! My mom never went to school, and she’s only suffering from a lifetime of consequences made from bad decisions that she didn’t have the education or emotional framework to prevent!” He tosses the shreds of napkin to the table, the three of them watching in silence as the uneven confetti flutters over their food. “Everyone does that!”

“Well, that’s not . . .” David glances at Gwen, who shrugs. He felt less helpless when Nurf was throwing knives at him. “You have to,” he finishes weakly. “It’s good for you. And I thought you liked . . .” He wracks his brain desperately for scraps of what limited conversation they’ve had on their afternoon drives home from school, “history?”

“Ugh!” Nurf whirls around and pulls back his arm, then launches his water glass into the wall. It doesn’t break -- David bought shatterproof dishes for the camp long before any of his current campers started coming here -- but the sound is massive in the silent room. We should’ve had him sign up for Baseball Camp, David thinks wearily, watching the watch drop down the uneven wood surface. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to not have the vocabulary sophisticated enough to express what you’re feeling?!”

David rarely considers himself helpless, but as Nurf reaches for his mostly-uneaten plate, face still dark with bottled-up impotent fury, he feels like he’s been attacked by Daniel again, limbs as weak and useless as if they were tied to his chair. “I . . . think you have a great vocabulary,” he begins, taking the first steps into this sentence without having any idea where the end of it is. But his instinct is always for positivity, and it’s true that Nurf’s intelligence impresses him; he may have taken for granted, in some ways, that this is the one camper who he can always rely on to be direct, his words and his fists both brutally honest. “Usually I just say I’m mad.”

“I AM mad!” he shouts, but he drops the plate to the table instead of throwing it. His voice is loud enough to blow Gwen and David’s hair back like a strong wind, and they’re both too surprised to even wipe off the bits of potato that flew up into their faces from the plate’s hard landing. “I’m mad because you don’t know what to do with me, and the state doesn’t know what to do with me, and it’s the end of summer but I’m still at camp because nobody knows what they’re supposed to do with me, which is the exact reason why I ended up in Boot Camp in the first place, and all I can do is do homework until someone decides what’s going to happen to me and I don’t know why everything is this hard!”

His arms drop to his sides and his shoulders slump, eyes widening and staring blankly into a spot above their heads.

“Wow,” he says after a moment. “That’s a lot of dark stuff for a twelve-year-old.”

The Quartermaster pokes his head into the Mess Hall. “Anyone died out here?”

“No, QM,” Gwen says, giving David a sideways glance before grabbing the butter, reaching over Nurf’s plate like it wasn’t sitting in a mess of food in the middle of the table, “we’re good out here.”

The Quartermaster grunts and disappears back into the kitchen, where an unsettling grinding noise David can’t quite place begins.

Nurf picks up his plate and sets it back in its place, stealing David’s napkin and settling it over the spilled food left behind. “I should, uh, clean up everything, shouldn’t I?”

“After dinner,” David replies, keeping his voice as calm and unaffected as possible. “You should finish eating before it gets cold.” As he sits back down and reaches for his fork, he continues, “If I help you get the Mess Hall back in shape, Nurf, do you think you’d be able to give me a hand with the canoes? I’m trying to get them ready for one last trip before the lake freezes.”

“Is this a punishment because I threw things?”

“Absolutely not.” David feels like he’s walking on a very narrow bridge, with horrible drops to either side but something warm and potentially wonderful on the other end. “You don’t have to say yes.”

Gwen, still keeping her gaze on buttering her roll, mutters, “You could always do homework instead.”

David freezes, giving her a look because what on earth does she think she’s doing? But then Nurf lets out a small, barking huff of laughter, and the evening settles back on its axis almost tangibly, a kind of metaphysical thump that he thinks they all feel, because in an instant the air is lighter than it's been since the end of the summer.

“For what it’s worth,” Gwen says after a few minutes, “even if it’s hard, I think you’re better at handling your feelings than you think you are.” Her eyes flick over to the empty glass and the water stain on the wall. “But maybe we should also buy you a punching bag over the weekend.”

“He needs a shrink,” Gwen declares later that night, then flops back onto the bed, covering her eyes with her arms. “We can’t afford a shrink.”

David is quiet for a moment. “I could . . . get another job,” he offers finally, the waves of reluctance rolling off of him, and she flaps her hand in his direction dismissively.

“No, shut up. This is your dream. Stop being stupid.”

He catches her arm, fingers closing gently around her wrist, and kisses her knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, not even pretending to argue. “I love you.”

She rolls onto her side to face him, feeling her face heat up. “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters. “I know.”

(She’s not sure why being told she’s loved embarrasses her. She’s even less sure why it’s so difficult to say it back. Her degree could not be any more useless.)

David bundles her up in his long arms, pulling her to his chest and rolling onto his back so she’s sprawled on top of him. He kisses her nose, beaming. “It’s okay, Gwen.”

She buries her face in his chest and lets him pet her hair, lets herself be loved.

(By the time she finally gets the courage to tell him that of course she loves him -- has, in fact, been in love with him since before he offered to let her live at the camp year-round -- almost all the leaves have fallen and the air is ice-breath freezing and he laughs, not at her but with the kind of giddy joy that can’t be contained in a smile. He kisses her and wraps her in his coat and it gets dark and Nurf yells that it’s time for dinner before they’re willing to pull away enough to escape the bitter chill.)

He gets therapy, eventually. Mr. Campbell still has all that money tucked away, and when the Millers hear that he wants to put it toward bettering himself and learning from his mistakes, they’re more than willing to unfreeze his bank accounts, just this once. So when David takes Nurf to the small white-bricked building where his own infrequent therapy sessions are held, he brings Mr. Campbell along for the ride. It settles his nerves about lying, because it isn’t technically a lie; Mr. Campbell is going to counseling, he’s just not using it.

When Mr. Campbell came forward one evening and offered the idea, David was shocked by the generosity, and a little suspicious. As soon as he smoothly suggested that they kill time at, say, The Only Bar or Muffin Tops while the little tyke was in there getting his head straightened out, things became a lot clearer.

(He didn’t spend long thinking it over, though. At the end of the day, an hour a week in a darkly-lit bar or strip club isn’t much of a sacrifice.)

On non-therapy days, David continues fixing up the camp, making sure to go out of his way to ask Nurf if he wants to help.

And to his surprise he . . . does, more often than not. Even more surprising is the fact that he’s rather good at this kind of hands-on work. He’s a tinkerer, like David is, and understanding blooms warm in his chest as the camper-who-isn’t-really-a-camper-anymore settles himself among the detritus of the camp unprompted, sorting through broken and disorganized supplies with a touch that’s strangely delicate, like he’s used to accidentally -- or not-so-accidentally -- breaking things.

Nothing gets broken that autumn, though. And no dishes hit the wall, either.

(When he mentions all this to Gwen, she shrugs and says, “Sure, makes sense. He liked to help Preston and Dolph out with their theater shit sometimes, right?” and again he feels like a terrible counselor.)

It’s largely David’s responsibility to take care of Nurf, which he expected and doesn’t mind. She works full-time, after all, and Gwen has always been a bit hands-off around the campers; she’s . . . not exactly maternal, and the unusualness of their new situation makes her far more uncomfortable than him. Her support largely comes in the form of common sense, observations he’d completely miss and ideas that never occur to him. Though she has a wonderful heart, Gwen is all brain. It works well -- David isn’t all that brainy, but he’s better at throwing his heart utterly into something.

So he does, with the kind of squared-jaw hopeful determination that leaves him exhausted and unable to sleep each night, his brain running over and over with thoughts and hopes and fears and ideas, above all ideas that multiply and branch until they’re full-scale plans. Plans full of holes, plans perhaps doomed to fail, but that’s what Gwen is for, when he’s finally ready to share his plans. When the heart has hung up activities and topics of conversation and a thousand ways to get Nurf to open up, scaffolded with lunatic, reckless optimism, she listens and writes in her journal and shores up the weak spots, tugs down his excitement so that his hopes don’t rise so tall they’ll collapse in on themselves.

She’s the rope around his ankles that makes sure he won’t build something he can’t get down from, so he doesn’t have to worry about anything except building.

And what does building look like with Nurf?

Quiet, at first. For someone who can so eloquently describe his issues, he isn’t really very chatty, and most of the time they work on their respective projects in silence. (One of David’s plans, tentatively titled Get Nurf to Share More About His Day, gradually deflates under the realization that he just doesn’t like talking about his day, and pushing him to share about classes or friends is more likely than not to result in him shutting down -- or throwing something. He puts it aside for now.)

Other plans are more successful. Teach Valuable Real-Life Skills is one; he picks up on things like carpentry and plumbing with an adeptness that exceeds even David’s most extravagant hopes, and soon he’s scrambling to find more things that tap into that well of enthusiasm. Sports, Violent Video Game Nights (which Gwen largely participates in because David is a bit squeamish about such things), Hiking and Mountaineering that is so much easier with only one or two people to corral instead of a dozen, and he’s already making plans for winter: skiing and snowshoeing and maybe even snowball fights, if he can teach Nurf how to do so without getting anyone hurt.

Learn Nurf’s Languages is a trickier plan, constantly ongoing. The slight slump of his shoulders that means something went badly in school, and the way he either does or doesn’t want to talk about it based on how fidgety he is. The jutted-out jaw and sullen silence that means he’s stumped and doesn’t want to admit it, the habit of clenching and unclenching his fists when he’s trying not to get angry. The little questions and observations that seem to come out of nowhere -- “Is there enough wood for the winter?” “I think the draft is coming from QM’s store; there’s a hole near the foundation” “When will you find out who’s coming back this summer?” -- that all add up to the same thing: a kid who’s trying to figure out what their future is going to look like, and if he’ll be in it.

Whenever he’s particularly helpful, uncharacteristically so, David takes a few extra hours that day to do something fun. He doesn’t know how long any of this is going to hold together, but he wants Nurf to know in no uncertain terms that for as long as it’s his and Gwen’s decision, that answer is going to be yes.