Chapter Fifteen: Ill Communication

David stared up at the ceiling, not sleeping. He couldn't believe he'd been so tired before he'd left to go help Jack; now he couldn't even close his eyes, let alone contemplate sleep. His mind was racing and his pulse certainly hadn't settled back down yet.

Jack had kissed him.

Where the hell had that come from? If he hadn't been able to taste the cigarette on Jack's breath, he'd have suspected he imagined it, but it had happened. Jack had actually done it. He just had no idea why.

He knew Jack was gay, it wasn't like that was a total shock. And Jack being gay didn't bother him at all, there was no reason why it should. Jack was a great guy, so something like that shouldn't matter. Jack was funny and laid back and easy to talk to; in a lot of ways, he was one of the closest friends David could remember having.

But then Jack had kissed him.

Why had he done that? David tried to shut his eyes and clear his head, push thoughts of Jack out of it, but it failed utterly. There was no way he was going to sleep until he had managed to come to some sort of… conclusion. But doing that was harder than it should have been

Jack kissed him, did that mean Jack liked him? Or had it just been an impulse? He didn't think it was an impulse, not with the way Jack had looked at him or the way Jack's hand had felt against his side. It felt like there was something more to it than just an impulsive, meaningless gesture. But why would there have been?

The ceiling didn't offer any convenient answers, no matter how hard David stared at it.

So… Jack had kissed him, and maybe Jack liked him. Which, he guessed, sort of explained the strange looks he was always getting from Jack. But there was no real explanation for why Jack would possibly like him. He'd barely even understood that Jack thought of him as a close friend… Jack was popular and funny and everyone liked him, and he really had his choice of friends. David had been surprised to find himself among them, let alone as a good friend; he had been a loser for as long as he could remember. Even his parents thought so. His siblings certainly did. And really, he always had thought so as well, it had just never really bothered him.

It made no sense that Jack would like him. It had to have been a fluke, just an impulse because of how close together they were standing and the moonlight and all… It had to be.

David sighed a tiny bit.

Why did the thought that it was just an impulse suddenly hurt so badly?

For the first time the whole summer, David was awake before the first bell rang; he had never fallen asleep. He slid out of bed and actually managed to claim the first shower, which meant there would still be hot water for a change, and was just on his way out when he heard Sneakers start yelling. "Okay, what the hell happened to--Racetrack, what is going on?"

"What?" Race demanded, as David hurriedly got dressed and tried not to look up. He wasn't exactly feeling cheerful, mostly just confused, but he didn't want to give anything away. Snitch, perpetually hyper and already ready to go, bounded past him and out into the morning air, got about four feet, then started laughing hysterically and came back in.

"Someone's been pranked!" he announced. "Come lookit the flagpole!"

Sneakers glared at Racetrack.

Race just looked confused.

"I hate everyone," Sneakers declared.

"What?" Race demanded, and poked his head out to see the flagpole. "Oh. Hey. It wasn't me!"

"Uh huh."

"It wasn't!"

"Uh huh." Sneakers gave him a very irritated look and grabbed his towel to go shower, as the second bell rang.

David finished getting dressed quietly and slipped out of the cabin. He didn't really feel like talking to anyone. Instead, he hung out in front of the dining hall and watched as other people began to arrive. He saw as Jack walked up with his campers all bouncing around him, as ten year olds were known to do, and then Jack glanced around and saw him.

And looked away immediately.

David wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Did it mean Jack was embarrassed or felt bad or… Or that it had been a mistake?

The third bell rang and David watched as Jack casually walked over to Sneakers, pounded his back in a brotherly manner, and declared, "God you last." Then walked off to go get his morning coffee.

Sneakers narrowed his eyes.

David slid into his seat and tried not to do anything to give away his role in the prank, though he felt like at any second someone was gong to spring up and accuse him. But nothing happened, and after breakfast a group went with Sneakers to go rescue his shorts, and he apparently had decided that Racetrack was Jack's accomplice, and no one even considered that it could be anyone else.

David felt kind of bad, because that included Race's mother, who looked like she was ready to strangle her son, despite his assurances that he was no way involved. Of course, since Race knew he was innocent he also was the only one who was trying to guess who else Jack would have turned to, so when David was trying to sneak quietly back to the bunk without being noticed, Race cheerfully slung an arm around him.

"Didn't know ya had it in you," he commented.

"Had… what… in me?" David answered innocently.

"That." Race pointed at the flagpole, which was now being dealt with. "Not bad for your first prank."

"It, uh, wasn't me."

"Well, it wasn't me either, and I'd say you're the second most likely suspect. Since you're Jack's new best friend and all." Race didn't seem to mind that he was taking the blame, though. "The look on Sneakers's face was great, didja see? He's pissed at Jack, can't wait to see how he gets revenge."

"Yeah… That'll be fun."

Race gave him a strange look. "You okay? You sound a little out of it."

David shrugged. "Still feeling a little under the weather, is all. Didn't sleep well last night, was kind of busy… you know."

"Right, right. Well, feel better."

"Yeah… Yeah, I will."

*

Jack couldn't look at David. He spent the whole of breakfast not looking at David; he carefully threw up a cheerful façade and accepted compliments at the success of the prank. And didn't look at David.

As he headed out to go get ready for riding that day, Sneakers caught up with him. "Just you wait, Cowboy. Just you wait."

"Bring it." Jack smirked.

"I will." Sneakers stomped off indignantly to go rescue his underwear, and Jack caught a glimpse of Race talking to David as he walked away.

A sudden, second fear began to form in the pit of his stomach. A fear beyond that of David hating him and never speaking to him again, which really was the only thing he'd been able to think of since David had walked off the night before. David might tell people.

Jack could lose his job.

There was a clause in every counselor's contract, about inappropriate relations with campers. And it didn't matter if the camper was less than a year younger than the counselor, campers were absolutely, one hundred percent off limits. And Jack, idiot that he was, had kissed David. Which definitely put him in the "go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars" category.

Oh, shit.

*

Lunch was no easier than breakfast had been. Jack was still absolutely not looking at David, and was starting to feel nervous and queasy. Like at any moment, Mrs. Higgins was going to walk up to him and proclaim that he was fired, and also, being sued for sexual harassment.

David was just feeling depressed, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why, and he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything, really; he wanted to curl up in his bed at home with a notebook and a cup of coffee and write until he fell asleep, with his annoying cat lying on his feet. The way he did every other summer break since about fifth grade. (His mother always scolded him in the morning for sleeping too late, and demanded to know why he had imprints from the notebook's spiral rings on his face.)

He wanted to be back to somewhere where he understood the rules, and didn't have to worry. He'd been perfectly happy as a loser with next to no friends or social life. He hadn't wanted to come to camp in the first place.

Even if it had been surprisingly fun.

He couldn't believe how messed up everything suddenly felt, because of one, stupid, little, probably meaningless kiss.

*

Racetrack was more observant than people gave him credit for. David was acting strangely, even for David; and Jack was distracted and nervous. He barely paid attention to the kids he was working with in riding, and usually he gave them his full attention (because with anything less, they tended to injure themselves.) But he clearly couldn't focus.

And then he watched Jack carefully at lunch, and discovered that was preoccupied with the space on the floor right underneath David. Not with gazing longingly the way he usually did, but staring straight at the ground.

That was a bit odd. Something was going on. Race turned his attention back to denying his involvement with Jack's mischief, and back to lunch, and made a note to talk to Jack about it later.

Sometimes, he wondered what on earth people would do without him.

*

It had taken a lot of time, and a lot of creativity. And there had been a lot of unintentional bug bites along the way. Hotshot finished washing her hands and glanced over at Smurf, who was doing the same.

"You know, we have to get Blink too. He was in on everything."

Hotshot rolled her eyes. "You just have issues. You should seek Blink-related therapy."

"He's evil."

"Yeah, yeah."

"He is." Smurf stuck out her tongue, dried off her hands, and wandered away. Hotshot followed suit, throwing one last look at their handiwork. Really, it was impossible to see anything wrong.

This was going to be beautiful.

*

Things hadn't improved any by dinner. Racetrack shook his head a little and decided to blow off the evening activity in favor of figuring out what was going on. Which turned out to be a good idea, because after dinner Jack slipped quietly out of the dining hall and instead of going to his bunk or to the evening activity, he followed the path to the counselor only cabin, where, theoretically, counselors could go to get away from it all when they had a free moment.

Race wasn't a counselor, but no one seemed to remember that about him. So he followed Jack in and watched Jack light up his cigarette before clearing his throat loudly.

"Hey!" Jack greeted him, a little more anxious than he should have sounded. "What's… up?"

"You tell me." Race leaned against the wall and waited.

"Tell you what?"

"Well, why you and David haven't said a word to each other all day, for one thing, when usually you're inseparable." Race raised an eyebrow, and Jack blanched and looked guilty but didn't say anything. "…Well?"

"Nothing's up."

"Riiiight." Race waited. Jack smoked. Race waited. Jack looked over at him guiltily.

"You remember how you called me stupid? And said Davey would figure things out if I didn't tell him?"

"Yeah."

"Well, uh… Yeah."

"You told him."

"In a manner of speaking." Jack sighed and exhaled a plume of smoke. "Yeah."

"…Care to clarify?"

"Not really."

Race just looked at him.

Jack sighed. "So I told him I was gay and that was fine, he was cool, we got along… Real well. And, uh, yeah."

"Jack, you've got to tell me more than 'yeah'. So you were getting along… You told him you liked him?"

"Uh, not exactly."

"Jack."

"I kissed him, Race. It was really really stupid and I know I shouldn't have and I know I could get fired, but… God, he must hate me now or something."

Race stared for a second, and Jack looked down at the floor, clearly embarrassed. Race shook his head. "Wow, that's… Yeah, that was pretty dumb."

"So I'm screwed."

"Well, does anyone else know about it? Other than you and me and him?"

"Only if he's told someone."

"Right, well… Did you talk to him about it? He probably won't tell anyone if–"

"I can't just talk to him, Race!" Jack half-yelled. "I can't, he–what if he hates me? God, if he hates me…"

"Well, you'll never know unless you ask him, Jack."

"Then I guess I'll never know, huh?"

"Jack, come on. You did something stupid; he's a nice guy. He'll understand, he'll get over it." He shrugged. "He might even be flattered, you never know."

"Yeah, right. Would you be flattered? I'd be freaked."

"Well, yes, I'd be flattered; and yes, he probably is freaked out too. You kissed him, and he didn't expect it, of course he's freaked out. Which is why you need to talk to him."

"I can't–"

"Jack. Listen to me. If you like him, you owe it to him; besides, if you want to keep your job, you have to at least ask him not to tell anyone."

"Yeah, 'cause that doesn't make me sound like a huge jerk. 'Hey, Dave, sorry I freaked you out the other night, it was nothing, please GOD don't tell anyone, okay?'"

"Better that than fired because he got freaked out when you wouldn't talk to him and he talked to someone else."

Jack said nothing, just finally dropped the remains of his cigarette into an ashtray. Race waited.

"What if he hates me?" Jack finally mumbled. "If I go and I talk to him and he's just disgusted by everything and doesn't want to talk to me anymore?"

"At least you'll know."

"I don't want to know that."

Race gritted his teeth for a second. He hated it when Jack was being difficult, because they both knew that Race was right. "Jack. What if he isn't mad and doesn't hate you, just was startled? He's not gonna talk to you, he's probably too shy to do that. You kissed him, now it's up to you to make things right."

"But…"

"No buts, Jack. You know I'm right."

Jack sighed. "I know, but…"

"Come on; it won't be so hard. It's just Davey, he's a nice guy. He'll understand."

"What if he doesn't?"

"You're really annoying, Jack, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yeah; my step dad tells me all the time."

"Jack…"

Jack shrugged. "Well, he does."

"Yeah, but that's not the point. Do you really think David is the sort of guy who'd be mad at you? I mean, if you being gay didn't freak him out at all, if you just explain that yes, you have a crush on him; you're sorry you startled him and you won't do it again, really, do you think he's the type who'd hate you?"

"…no…" Jack mumbled.

"Then go do it."

Jack groaned. "Yeah… Okay, fine, I will."

"Good."

"But you gotta do me a favor, Race."

"Sure, whatever, just–wait, what?"

"You gotta talk to him first. So if he's gonna freak out, at least I'll know."

"Oh, no. No, this is between the two of you and I'm not getting involved."

"You already are involved. C'mon, Race, please?"

Race sighed. "You swear you'll talk to him after?"

"Swear."

"Even if it… doesn't go so well?"

Jack winced, but nodded.

"Fine. You owe me."

"Thanks, Race," Jack said gratefully. Racetrack just rolled his eyes and stomped out of the cabin.

*

Race found David sitting on the porch of their cabin, staring off at nothing, a notebook open on his lap. He glanced down and saw the phrase "Dear Mom," but that was all that was written.

"Hey, Dave."

Dave looked up and nodded a little, but didn't say anything.

Race sat down. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Well… Jack, I'd figure."

"Why… Why would you figure that?"

Race sighed. "Jack told me about last night, Dave."

"Oh."

Race waited for more of a reaction and got none. So finally, he just continued, "You… Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

Race raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk to Jack, then?"

David froze for a second. "Talk to Jack?" he repeated.

"Well, yeah. Ya know, figure out where you stand with each other."

"What do you mean where we stand?"

Race groaned. Talking to David was not easy, and he suspected David was doing that on purpose. Well. Probably not actually, but David was being frustrating, intentionally or not. "Well, you probably figured he likes you, right?"

"He… He does?" David mumbled, gripping his pencil tightly.

"Uh, yes."

"Oh." David blinked.

"He kissed you, Dave; of course he likes you."

"Okay."

"So you two should talk so that you can figure out if… I don't know, if you want to stay friends or whatever."

"Of course I want to be friends with him. I just…"

Race waited.

David stared down at his hands and the pencil.

Race cleared his throat.

"I just don't know about… I mean, Jack kissed me. I don't know how I… Feel. About that."

"Well, why not? What's confusing you?" Race asked calmly, slipping into the voice he used on the crisis line. Nothing hostile or demanding, just friendly and calm and solid. He'd let David reach his own conclusions, whatever they were.

"I don't know," David groaned. "Just, he, uh… No one's ever kissed me before. Jack knew that."

"So is it just being kissed? I mean, that's weird when you get right down to it; kissing as an act is kind of bizarre. Or is it because it was Jack? Or… just that you didn't expect it?"

"I don't know," David snapped, and it was obvious how frustrated he must have been. "I–I just don't know. It's–I know it shouldn't be a big deal and it shouldn't bother me and I swear I don't care about… About Jack being gay, it doesn't matter, but…"

Race took a deep breath. "But suddenly it's not an abstract thing anymore, right?" he suggested gently. "It doesn't bother you that Jack is gay, but him liking you makes you feel kind of… different about the whole thing."

David shrugged.

"It's okay, you know."

"No it's not. I'm not… I'm not some macho jerk who's so concerned about my… my image or my manhood or whatever that I'd just freak out and…" David sighed. "Beat him up in the parking lot the next day."

Race winced. "Jack told you 'bout that?"

"Yeah. So I just…"

"You're a little uncomfortable, and you're afraid that makes you a jerk."

"Something like that."

"Hey; as long as you're worried about it, it can't be true. If you didn't care, you'd be in danger. But you care. So…"

"I shouldn't care."

Race leant back in the rickety wooden chair. "Davey, chill. If you're upset because you think you reacting to Jack will upset him, then you're fine. For just a minute here you should sit back and think about how you feel, not how he feels."

"But–"

"Listen, it's really okay to be startled or to be a little freaked out, and out of everything that's worrying Jack right now it's more if he upset you than if you upset him. A lot more."

David said nothing.

"Well, look; if you're… Okay, then you should talk to Jack, I really think the two of you should–"

"Race, how do you know you're straight?"

Race fell silent, then took a deep breath and went into his crisis line mode again. "Well, uh… Really, that's hard to say. It generally has something to do with liking girls and not boys, though."

"Great, thanks a lot."

"I know, not much of an answer. It's just sort of a tough question. I think… Well, it's just me, but I think sexuality is a lot more fluid than most people assume. I think people put way too much stock in labels like gay or straight."

"So you don't consider yourself straight?"

"I consider myself basically attracted to girls, yeah."

"But…"

He shrugged. "I'd like to think I'd be open to it if there was ever a boy who I was interested in for whatever reason; that I wouldn't be so straight that I'd limit myself from something that could be really good."

"Oh."

"But, y'know, what works for me isn't necessarily right for everyone. There really is no normal when it comes to things like this. That's just how I feel."

"Have you thought about it a lot?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"A bit?"

"One of my brothers is gay. Gave the whole family a lot to think about."

"I didn't know you had brothers."

Race laughed. "Davey… I've got seven brothers. And they're all older."

"Wow. That's… A pretty big family."

"Well, three of them are adopted, but yeah. It's sad, I get more privacy in the cabin all summer than I would with my family at home."

"I can't even imagine having seven brothers."

"It's, uh… Well. It's loud and kind of annoying a lot of the time, but not so bad. Sometimes it's great."

"Yeah?"

Race laughed a little again. "There was this bully when I was in, like, second grade… And he started being a jerk and can you imagine his face when four older kids came over and told him off?"

"Must be nice."

"It's never boring, anyway." Race gave his shoulder a pat. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just gotta sort some things out, I guess."

"Well, you work on that. I'll let Jack know you're not pissed and… You're not pissed, right?"

"No, just… Confused."

"Well, that's all right, then." Race stood up. "I'll see ya later, Davey. Don't worry about this too much; Jack's a nice guy. You'll work it out." He patted David's shoulder again, and headed off down to the main part of camp to give Jack the all clear.

*

"…God, why won't he just leave me alone?" Sarah whined, as she and Shakes walked towards their cabin. "Did you see him tonight?"

"He was showing off for you," Shakes giggled. "Come on, it's kind of sweet. And he did get, like, four guys out for you."

"I wish he'd just ask me out or something so I could tell him no. And make him stop."

"You could just talk to him about it, you know," Shakes suggested.

"Uh… No." Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

"Because," Sarah sighed. "That would just be weird. I mean, he likes me; he's supposed to talk to me, right?"

"I guess, but if you know he likes you…"

"But what if he doesn't and I'm imagining it? It's so up to him. That's, like, the rule."

"It's kind of a dumb rule, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't."

Shakes rolled her eyes but didn't bother to answer. Sarah had very clear ideas about what was and wasn't normal behavior, and Shakes was pretty sure nothing would get her to change their mind. She pushed open the door to their bunk, so they could grab sweatshirts before heading to the dining hall for the evening coffee and cookies session. It did get chilly down by the lake after the sun set, after all.

Sarah grabbed her sweatshirt and sat down on her bed to pull it on. She failed to notice the faint crunching noise as she sat, since it was mostly muffled by blankets anyway.

As far as Sarah knew, all was normal as she and Shakes walked back towards the dining hall. She was even a little bit optimistic, since Jack was back from the infirmary and all. He might be there… And maybe, if she flirted with him, Blink would get the hint and leave her alone.

As it turned out, she was wrong on all counts.

[End Chapter Fifteen]
Chapter Sixteen: Pranks, Poker and Punishment