Chapter Six: Scuffle

David wondered why the entrance of the Delanceys into the dining hall effectively shut up everyone present; even Blink and Smurf, who moments ago had been insulting each other at the top of their lungs, fell silent.

The two riding counselors stopped near the table, the younger one of them leaning over Jack's shoulder. "Well, looky what we got here," he said, ostensibly to his brother, but loud enough for the room in general to hear. "A mama's boy, a pussy and…" he paused. "What the hell are you?" he demanded of David.

"At least fifty points higher on the IQ scale than you are," David answered without thinking, then realized what he'd said and paled. He didn't get into fights at school often, but when he did it was invariably because he said something without thinking; he was intelligent enough and cynical enough that sarcasm wasn't even second nature, it was somewhere at his very core. And judging by the look that went over the guy's face as he figured out what David had said—though given how long that took him, David didn't think he'd been that far from the truth—this was going to be one of those times when he accidentally got himself into a fight.

The guy started to answer, but Racetrack cut him off. "Leave it alone, Oscar," he muttered.

"Or else what, Higgins?" Oscar demanded. "You'll tell your mom?" He sneered and laughed, as did his brother, but no one else was moving or making a sound.

"Yeah, I thought I might," Race answered causally. "Since she's the camp owner and director—and the one who signs your paychecks—she might be interested in hearing about you harassing campers."

Oscar froze for a second and narrowed his eyes. "Your word against mine," he said flatly.

"Yeah. Mine, and all of these witnesses," Race agreed, gesturing vaguely around the room.

Oscar started to lunge for him, but Morris was apparently the smarter of the two and grabbed Oscar's collar, effectively choking him until he stopped struggling forward. Oscar turned and glared at him, which got no reaction other than an eye-roll. But when it became clear that he wasn't going to attack anyone, for the moment at least, he turned his attention back to David, apparently still smarting from the insult.

"So what's the new guy doing at camp for one summer?" he asked, leaning far too far into David's personal space for his liking.

"Uh."

"Parents sick of you?" he suggested.

David decided it would probably be best not to say anything, in case Race either couldn't, or didn't feel like, defending him again. But to his surprise it was Jack, not Race, who answered. "Aww, Oscar," he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy, "just 'cause you're twenty-five and still live with your mother so she's gotta kick you out in the summer, that don't mean Dave's family don't like him."

Race laughed and muttered under his breath, "And you called me a mama's boy."

Oscar looked positively livid at that, but was smart enough to try and attack Race again. He decided to ignore him and back up to Jack's comment. "Yeah?" he snarled. "Like you should talk about other people's families, Cowboy."

There was finally another noise in the room; the people watching from other tables went "Oooooooh," collectively. David didn't know quite why, but it was clear that that insult was a nastier blow than any of the rest of the verbal sparring.

Jack swallowed hard and stood slowly. He ground the knuckles of one hand into the palm of his other, and the gesture was made even more menacingly when they cracked loudly. "What was that?" he asked mildly.

"Just that you're right. The new kid's probably got a great family. I bet his parents didn't send him away for the summer so they could get divorced without telling him—or move across the country without telling him."

There wasn't a reaction from the onlookers this time, because Jack started moving before anyone else could; this time, he was the one who lunged forward, and there was a blur of motion. David couldn't quite follow it, but it looked like Jack managed to get a swing at Oscar, who tripped backwards and knocked into his brother, while Race jumped up, grabbed Jack's other arm and pulled him backwards. Oscar started forward again, Jack ducked and Race got the full force of the punch in the face, leaving him with a bloody nose and what would probably eventually be a nasty bruise.

Jack sprang back up and landed a return punch on Oscar's face, accompanied by a knee to the groin, and Oscar stumbled back into his brother again, who shoved Oscar aside and started forward himself. Meanwhile, apparently not really affected by the bloody nose, Race threw himself between Jack and Morris, yelling for help, and did his best to keep them apart. They were both hesitant to let him get caught in the crossfire again, his threats to bring it all to his mother fresh in their minds, but that didn't slow down Morris for very long. He started forward, trying to get around Race, who stepped in his way and got shoved hard back out of the way for his trouble; Race crashed into one of the other tables, tripped over a chair leg, and let out a string of curse words as he fell and slammed hard into the floor.

David decided it would be prudent to not be anywhere near the fight and scrambled away from the table, as someone else waded into the fight, one of the guys from Ferguson bunk, by grabbing Jack so he couldn't do any more damage. Jack struggled but the camper either had a good grip, or was a lot stronger than someone with such a skinny frame should have been, or both, because it was futile, but the problem with that was that no one held back Morris, who got a clean shot at Jack's gut while Jack was immobilized.

He probably would have kept throwing punches, as none of the campers seemed as eager to grab him as the guy from Ferguson had been to grab Jack, but Race was back on his feet and, once again, threw himself in the way. Morris jarred to a stop quickly, no doubt thoughts of being fired for punching Mrs. Higgins' youngest son still floating through his mind.

"Enough," Race said through clenched teeth. "You two, get out."

Morris glanced back at Oscar and they didn't move for a moment.

"Now," Race added forcefully, and the two of them turned on cue and stalked back out the door they'd entered from minutes before. The kid released his hold on Jack. "Thanks, Spot," Race murmured, and started to say something to Jack, but before he could get in a single word Jack had also turned and stomped off through a different door, heading out to the back porch.

Race took a deep breath, and only then seemed to notice that his face was hurting quite a lot. "Oh Jesus Christ," he muttered and grabbed a napkin, pressed it to his nose to stop the bleeding. "Someone wanna get me some ice from the kitchen?" he added, and one of the campers did so. He pressed that against his face, too

Race looked around the room seriously; no on else had left. "Nothing happened here," he decreed.

"Yeah, 'cause your mom ain't gonna get curious about the bruise," Spot muttered.

"I'll deal with that. Nothing happened here. And if it did, Oscar threw the first punch. Okay?"

There was a very quiet murmur. Race fixed a glare on Spot. "Okay, Conlon?" he repeated.

"Yeah, whatever you say," Spot agreed.

"Good." Race sank down onto one of the benches and slowly, people returned to their conversations. David hesitantly went back to where he'd been sitting.

"What… What just happened?" he asked, kind of dazed.

"I got beat up." Race rolled his eyes.

"They weren't aiming for you, though."

"Well, yeah; better they hit me than Jack. 'Cause Jack could get fired, and me, I just get grounded. You spend enough time having people make fun of you for your parents running the place, you learn to work it to your advantage, ya know?"

"I guess," David agreed, though he really didn't know at all. "But what…? I mean…" He trailed off.

"Those two were Oscar and Morris Delancey. They never grew up from their high school bully days, close as I can figure. Though I doubt they even graduated from high school." He paused, then grinned from behind the napkin and ice. "Fifty points smarter, where'd that come from?"

David shrugged.

"Well, whatever. They're jerks, and Jack… He attracts more than his fair share of jerks, really. Things ain't exactly great for him at home, his school's full of assholes, too."

"Whose isn't?"

"Yeah, good point. But he…" Race shrugged. "He gets a little sensitive, and since the Delanceys have been workin' here, their favorite hobby's baiting him."

"Even when he was a camper?"

"Yeah. They got no shame. If I was Mom, I'd have fired them years ago, but…" He dropped his voice and finished conspiratorially, "I don't have the sort of control over what she does that most people seem to assume." His voice went back to normal. "And anyway, I may be a mama's boy, but I don't have to let idiots like them say so, do I?"

"Uh, I guess not." David cast a look out the windows. Jack was leaning against the railing on the porch, staring out at the lake. "Is he okay?"

"Hard to say. Like I said, he's real… Sensitive. About his family."

"Hmmm." David kept watching the figure, little more than a silhouette, out the window. Race removed the ice and napkin and discovered the bleeding had stopped; he stood up to throw the bloody napkin out. When he went to sit back down, he saw David had left, starting for the door out the porch, Jack's copy of Dune clutched in one hand.

*

Jack heard someone approaching him slowly and figured it was Race. He didn't bother to look up, just shoved a hand in his pocket and groped for the pack of cigarettes he kept there. He knew he shouldn't smoke on camp grounds, especially not where campers could see him, but figured he'd be in trouble for starting a fight anyway and he might as well. It wasn't like it would get much worse.

He fished out a cigarette and lit it, wondering why Race hadn't said anything yet. They were good friends, after spending the past ten summers together, plus writing and occasionally visiting during the rest of the year, but sometimes Race could get really annoying. Jack figured this would be one of those times.

"What?" he finally demanded testily, and took a drag on his cigarette.

"I uh… I just… You forgot your book."

Jack finally looked up and saw it was David watching him, not Race. David held the book out, and Jack accepted it suspiciously. "Yeah, thanks."

He turned back to the lake, watched the reflection of the moon. David didn't leave, just kept half watching him, half watching the lake. "Just, uh, are you okay?" he finally asked. "I mean, you got hit a few times…"

"Fine."

They fell silent again.

"Race send you to talk to me?"

"Uh, no. I just… You looked really pissed, I…" he trailed off.

"You what?"

"I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. I said already."

"Yeah, okay."

Jack turned and glared at him. "What?" he demanded.

"You don't, um, sound fine."

"Race got hurt worse than me, why don't you go bother him?"

"Because Race didn't freak out as soon as someone mentioned his family, and he went back to normal when the fight ended."

"How do you know this ain't how I am normally?"

"Because it's not how you were acting before those… thugs… walked in. We were having a conversation."

"Maybe I don't feel like conversing."

"Up to you, I guess." David sat tentatively on the wooden bench that lined the porch, and watched the lake. A breeze picked up and the water rippled. "It's a good series," he added.

Jack extinguished his cigarette and sat, not next to but not terribly far from David. "Why do you care if I'm not fine?" he demanded.

David shrugged. He didn't have much of a reason, really. It just felt like he ought to care; he'd have cared if it happened to anyone. He was cynical, not apathetic. "I guess I just… I mean, I thought you might want to talk to someone or something. But if not I'll… You know, leave you alone."

He started to stand, embarrassed he'd followed Jack to the porch at all, and took a few steps before Jack called out for him to wait.

"I just ain't used to people caring if I'm okay," Jack said. "I mean, especially people I don't know."

David nodded with understanding at sat back down where he had been. Jack sighed and gazed out at the lake. "What's your family like, Dave?" he asked.

"Oh, they're… Okay, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Well, my parents make me nuts sometimes, but that's normal, right? They're constantly worried that I'm too antisocial or something, they're always telling me to be more like Sarah—make more friends. That's why they sent me here this summer to, and this is a quote, learn to like myself, so that other people will like me, too."

Jack half-smiled. "People really want you to be more like Sarah?"

"Well, I get better grades, mostly. My parents like that… But they think I'm a loser. Not that they'd say it like that, but they do." He sighed. "But they mean well, I guess."

"That's worth something, ain't it?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I guess so."

There was a quiet, and finally Jack said softly, "My family ain't so great."

David looked over at him, concerned. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it; he didn't have to know exactly what was wrong to know that Jack wasn't okay. That much had been made obvious.

"It's just… I mean, the first summer I was here, I was just a kid. I was seven… My parents dumped me here for the summer and when I got back in August, Mom had moved out. She'd been cheating on Dad for, like, three years, and he was…" Jack trailed off and finally finished bitterly, "He was an asshole. Still is. They got divorced, didn't want me worry about them, they said, so they did it while I was gone for the summer."

"Oh… Oh God."

"Yeah." Jack shrugged. "Well, they only got married to begin with 'cause he got her knocked up anyway." He looked over at David, who looked kind of shocked. "Mistakes happen," he added bitterly.

"Yeah, I know, Les…" He trailed off.

"Les? He's the one in my bunk, right?"

"I don't know. I guess… I shouldn't be telling you this—he doesn't know—"

"The kid was an accident?"

"Yeah. Sarah and I were born, and Mom figured that one boy and one girl was enough unless they invented a third kind. Dad had a vasectomy… It, uh, didn't work that well. So six years after I was born…"

Jack cracked a smile. "Poor kid."

"Yeah, I don't think I was supposed to know either, but when they decided to give Sarah and me the Talk, it kind of came up."

"You mean your parents actually gave you that talk?"

"Well, when Sarah started to date…" He shrugged. "Yeah, it wasn't the most fun I'd ever had."

"Them being well meaning again?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not their fault they make me nuts…" He trailed off guiltily, realizing that he probably had it easy compared to Jack, given what he'd just heard. "Sorry," he added quickly.

"For what, not being screwed up? It ain't your fault my family's the way it is."

"But, lots of kids have divorced parents…" David said, half-hopefully.

"Yeah. Not quite like mine." Jack looked back at the lake and began talking again. It was easier to say everything aloud if he didn't actually look at David. "The first summer, the divorce, that was pretty bad. The second summer though… I came home and Mom had moved across the country, moved to New Mexico with her boyfriend, gotten engaged."

"Oh… Well, that's—"

"It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't almost as big an asshole as my dad. They had custody of me, which was fine, except Jordan—my step—he wasn't too thrilled about having me around to remind him that Mom had already been married once before. Put up with me, mostly, until they decided to have kids. Then he didn't want me around his kids, thought I was a bad influence. Thought I'd grow up just like my dad." He sighed. "Went back to court about it, I ended up at my dad's for about a year."

He shuddered involuntarily. "My dad…" he started, then shook his head. "I was ten, I think. And thank God for Race and his family, 'cause I was still coming here for the summer and when I showed up with bruises and a broken rib… Mrs. Higgins liked me, she asked what had happened and I told her and…" He trailed off. "She can be real persuasive when she wants to, called my parents—both of 'em—and threw a fit. End of the summer, I moved back in with mom and Jordan and their precious baby.

"Joint custody, though. So now, since then, I live out on the ranch and my step-dad hates me, and I don't think Mom likes me all that much either, really, and for any breaks from school longer than three days, I get shipped off to New York.

"Dad doesn't want me hanging around any more than I want to be there. So I still spend my summers here…"

He trailed off, finally finished. "I guess, I'm just a little…"

"Sensitive?" David suggested, remembering what Race had said.

"Yeah. That."

"I'm sorry," David said again. "I know that doesn't help or anything, but… Parents shouldn't treat their kids like that. And the Delanceys, for making fun of you for it…"

"Well, if I get fired for punching Oscar, at least it'll have been worth it."

"You're not going to get fired," David told him.

"Yeah? They've been after me for years, since they've been working here—I bet the first thing they do is try and press charges."

"No, Race, uh, seemed pretty confident no one was going to tell his mother about it."

Jack half-smiled. "He's a real pal. His family's been real good to me, they invite me out here sometimes during the winter, too, to keep my away from my dad." He finally looked back at David. "You know, Dave, you're real easy to talk to. I usually don't talk about any of that stuff, it's not… People treat me different when they know, and I hate it when people feel sorry for me. Even most of the guys around here don't know, so, uh, if you could…"

"Not say anything?" David guessed. Jack nodded. "No problem."

"Thanks."

They sat in quiet for another minute. "I think I'm gonna head off. Didn't get much sleep last night." He half-smiled at David again. "But you already knew that, right?"

"Well, if you hadn't woken us all up…"

"Turn about's fair play."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault!" David protested as they headed back inside. Jack paused long enough to say goodnight to everyone, mock Race's still-developing bruise and left to get some sleep.

David sat down where he'd been before, but only for a minute before he decided that, anti-social or not, he wanted to get to sleep. His mind was still turning over everything Jack had said about his family, and everything he'd implied—a broken rib, spending winters with Race's family to avoid his father. How things with his step-dad were almost as bed.

It's not fair, he thought to himself as he walked uphill to his cabin, suddenly grateful for the parents he'd always considered overprotective and annoying. But Jack was right, they did mean well, and it could have been so much worse. He sighed. So another over-privileged suburban kid is shocked by how much life can suck.

He let himself into the cabin and began to dig guiltily through his suitcase. Most of his belongings had been emptied into a dresser in the cabin, but he'd left a few things he didn't think he'd need inside. One of them was the picture his parents had insisted he bring a copy of; they'd sent one with Les and Sarah, too. It was the photo they'd taken for their family Chanukah cards, with all five of them together.

His parents looked so content, and Les was always cheerful. Sarah was good with cameras and looked great, too, he thought with a stab of jealousy, because he had the awkward smile of someone who froze as soon as the lens was pointed at him. He looked like that in just about every picture ever taken of him, even when he was a kid.

Yet somewhere else where's she's a natural and I just don't get it, he thought, but couldn't put any real bitterness behind it. It wasn't Sarah's fault that he was antisocial, after all. Maybe it really was like his parents said; maybe it was because he never talked to anyone. After all, he'd been able to talk to Jack with no problem…

Maybe they're right. He yawned. Or maybe Jack's just a nice guy.

*

"Hey."

David rolled over sleepily and saw that Race had walked in and turned on one of the lights. "Oh. Hi."

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah."

Race wasn't convinced that David was telling the truth about that, but shrugged it off. He probably hadn't been very asleep… And since there was no one else there—Sneakers was with the guys in the dining hall now, and Mush was talking to some of the guys in Ferguson, still hiding from his stalkers—Race could ask a few questions that were burning in his mind.

"How's your face?" David added before he could say anything else.

"Sore. My mom's gonna freak out tomorrow, but… The Delanceys are such creeps. I almost wish I could tell her what happened, try to get rid of them. But since Jack threw the first punch…"

"Yeah."

"So you and Jack, uh, talked for awhile?"

"Yeah."

Race felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders. As far as he knew, Jack didn't ever really talk to anyone else at the camp; he was friends with them, joked around a lot, but never confided in them. He'd been Jack's sole confidant for a long time, and having someone to share that burden helped a lot. Except… "About his family and stuff?" he added.

"Yeah."

"How much did he tell you?"

David sat up on his bed and almost hit his head on the ceiling of the cabin. "I dunno, all of it, I guess."

"Really?" That surprised Race, but he was pretty pleased, though suddenly a little nervous about Jack's decision to open up.

"I guess. I mean, about his dad and all…"

"That's all?" Race asked, without meaning to.

"There's more?"

"Well, uh, Jack's got a lot of stories about his dad," he covered as smoothly as he could.

"He sounds like a real asshole." David paused. "Jack… Jack's pretty nice, though."

"Yeah. Well, sorry to wake you up, Dave." Race turned the light back out and fell silent as he got ready for bed in the dark. So Jack didn't tell him everything. I guess it's better this way, though. I just hope… He could barely finish the thought. I just hope that the look in Jack's eye when they came back inside wasn't what I think it was. But he was smart enough not to tell David…

He glanced outside and could see someone with a flashlight approaching; a quick look at his clock told him that it was finally curfew. People might not be going to bed right away, but the cabin would be full again.

He will tell David, though, eventually, Race thought as he slipped into bed, not really wanting to talk about the fight anymore. Especially not if Sneakers was there, since he would be obligated to report it to the Higginses. I just hope David takes it okay. Otherwise… Poor Jack.

[End Chapter Six]
Chapter Seven: Sibling Rivalry
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