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foreveralwaysanauthor · 1 year ago

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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!”

#Camp Wanamaker

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