Chapter Eighteen: Playing the Game

Blink looked around the dining hall, convinced that he was going to be overheard. Of course, looking around like that every few seconds really just made him look more suspicious, but that didn't even dawn on him. After a few minutes, Trixie sauntered up to his table and glanced around, sat down, and began to nibble at her cookie. "Well?" Blink finally demanded.

"Well what?"

"Well, you said you'd think about helping me. So... Will you?"

She shrugged. "I guess. You're not gonna do anything too bad, are you?"

"Of course not," Blink said, his voice dripping sincerity. "You get your date with Mush, and in return you... Help me out. And this will be the last prank, really."

"Yeah, right," Trixie scoffed. "And anyway, you pranking Smurf isn't going to make Sarah like you."

"This has nothing to do with Sarah," Blink answered, gritting his teeth slightly.

"Suuuuuuuure it doesn't."

"Are you going to help me or not?" he demanded, irritated. He didn't want to talk about Sarah. He didn't want to think about Sarah. But it seemed like everyone who talked to him wanted to rehash how harshly she'd turned him down.

"Of course. We go to the dance, and the next day you're on."

He glanced around, decided no one was paying attention to them, and held out his hand. "Shake on it. And I swear, if you tell anyone..."

"Trust me, I so won't," Trixie answered, and they shook hands quickly and then she dashed off to go pay attention to Mush, who was walking in the door.

Blink sighed slightly and shut his eye. He was going to finish what he and Sarah had started—whether she wanted him to or not. It really did have nothing to do with her, he tried to convince himself. He'd gotten involved in a prank war, and he wasn't just going let Smurf win.

He'd never take Trixie up on her offer to fix the race. The race was sacred, as far as he was concerned; he was going to prove he was Smurf's superior in every way possible fair and square. But that didn't mean he couldn't take advantage of Trixie's position as her best friend in other ways...

...Now he just had to get Mush to agree to it, a task which wouldn't be easy and he wasn't looking forward to.

*

"No offense, David, but you suck," Jack said, pulling off his bandana and wiping the sweat that had been beading up beneath it off his forehead.

David shrugged. "I told you."

Jack smiled. "Nah, you're not so bad."

"I am, but thanks for being nice."

"Come on." Jack held up his tennis racket. "Let's hit around a few more before dinner."

David laughed a little. "You say that like I've actually been hitting any of them."

"Aw, don't be so hard on yourself, Davey. You hit a few."

"I hit two, Jack. In the past hour."

"So?"

"So I suck. I'm sorry we're playing together, we won't stand a chance."

"So?" Jack repeated. "You're not a sports type guy, Davey. You got lots of other things going for you, so that doesn't even matter." He straightened up and bounced a tennis ball off the court ground a few times, then served gently. David stared in shock at it for a second, then swung wildly before it was anywhere near him, and knocked himself off balance as he did so. The ball bounced two feet away from him, rolled away and hit the fence at the back of the court. He shot a look at Jack. "Okay, hand eye coordination ain't one of your strong points."

"No kidding."

"You wanna try to serve?"

"Uh... No."

Jack grinned and reached for another tennis ball. "Anyway, no one cares about sports so much anyway."

"Except my parents, my teachers, and all of the people I go to school with."

"They don't count."

"So who counts?"

"Well," Jack said, tossing the ball up to try a real serve, "me."

David winced away as the ball came near him, tipped it by sheer luck and sent it off at a random angle, back into the net near the ground. "...I hit it," he pointed out.

"Well, that's a start."

The first bell began to ring for dinner, and David sighed. "We should just give up, Jack. There's no point in even playing the first game."

"Sure there is. Come on, you try serving one and then I'll walk you down to the dining hall."

"Okay." David retrieved the tennis ball, now rolling slowly across the court. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He bounced it off the ground once and hit his shoe, reached out to catch it before it got too far away and by a miracle actually did so, but didn't stop to correct himself and catch his balance; instead he chucked it up in the air and swung in a way he hoped vaguely resembled what he'd seen Snitch and Volley, the tennis counselor, do earlier that day.

It didn't work. The main difference mostly was that when Snitch tossed the ball up and swung, he hit the ball and even the times he hit it into the net, it at least went in the right direction. David chucked the ball up and swung wildly; he missed the ball by a country mile and actually managed to lose his grip on his racket, which careened wildly off, roughly in Jack's direction, where he'd been trying to hit the ball. David himself stumbled forward a few steps and then stared kind of in shock as Jack jokingly jumped away from David's flying racket.

They both kind of stood silently for a minute, then Jack broke out laughing. "Davey... If nothin' else, we'll scare everyone into submission. Just put a war cry with that and we've got it made."

David started blushing, but he smiled a little bit as Jack picked up his racket and they exited the tennis courts. They walked side by side down the gently sloping fields and over to the dining hall, where Volley was just posting the competition roster, as Sneakers stood in the doorway, smirking slightly. No sooner than it was tacked up did Jack scan the list and see that sure enough... Their round one match was playing against Sneakers and Snitch.

"How'd practice go, Cowboy?" Sneakers asked mildly.

"Davey's got this surprise move that'll just knock you out, Sneaks." Jack chuckled and David blushed.

"Well, we'll see."

"Yeah, we will." Jack was still smiling, but there was a hint of competitive determination in his voice now.

"Snitch is awfully good," Sneakers added. "And, uh..."

Jack put a protective arm around David. "Stop harassing people and go get a life." Jack paused, then smirked. "And anyway, I beat you last year with Denton as my partner."

"Yeah, well... We'll see." Sneakers stood aside to let them in, and smirked as Jack walked past him.

Inside, David turned to Jack almost indignantly. "Jack, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing?"

"I mean... I mean you know there's no way we're gonna win! I can't even hold on to my racket, let alone hit the ball!"

"Well, uh..." Jack shrugged. "It's all in fun, anyway. And I can cover your side of the court a little bit."

"Yeah." David sighed, and glanced over towards the door to the kitchen. Other hoppers were starting to filter in. "I should go... You know."

"Yeah. I'm just gonna grab a drink. I'll take care of your racket, if you want."

"Oh, yeah, uh, sure." David handed Jack his racket and their hands brushed; David felt a blush growing across his cheeks at that, as he turned away towards the kitchen.

Sarah was in charge of putting out groups of dishes again, sported a hairnet and gloves, and looked vaguely suicidal. "Hey," he said, noting that her scowl wasn't her usual slightly discontent pout, but looked genuinely miserable.

"Hi," she answered flatly.

"Um... Are you okay?"

"I'm dandy, just take your plates and leave me alone."

"Uh... Okay." He accepted the stack of plates she shoved at him, but didn't leave. "So... I heard that you and—"

"Swear to god if the next thing you say is 'Blink,' I'll—"

"Okay!" David interrupted. "Sorry, didn't mean to... Piss you off."

"Yeah, well, you did."

"I can tell." He hesitated. "So... uh... Yeah." He shrugged and started to walk off, but she called after him and he paused. "Yeah?"

"David... About Jack..."

He glanced around the kitchen, and shook his head slightly. "Uh... Sarah, I mean this in a really nice way, but he... Um, let's just say you're not his type."

"David—"

"Trust me, okay? He thinks you're really nice and... And all, but just... Um, not his type. And anyway, counselors aren't allowed to have relationships with campers, so—"

"Yeah, whatever." She glared at him, but it was more out of reflex than anger. Her shoulders slumped slightly and she just looked kind of defeated.

David watched her for a second, then walked out to go set the table.

*

Blink caught up with Mush on his way out of dinner, heading up to their cabin to get a sweatshirt before the evening activity started. "So..." he said. "I've been thinking."

"That's never happened before."

Blink laughed and punched Mush's arm lightly. "Anyway, I was just thinking... Trixie's been stalking you all the time, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You know... I, uh, I bet she'd stop if she just had you."

"What?" Mush stopped walking and stared at him.

"Well... Think of it like this. You ask her to the dance, she goes with you, and realizes that you're just another guy and not some kind of... God."

"You've been watching too many after school specials."

"Orrrrr, maybe if you go you'll find out you really like her," he suggested as they started walking again.

"And now you're just insane."

"Come on, she's not so bad."

"Um... You do realize she's Smurf's best friend, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's not like she's Smurf. And really, being that psycho's best friend can't be easy, she deserves some kind of reward."

"I," Mush said haughtily, though he was clearly amused, "am not some girl's reward. Anyway, what do you care who I go to the dance with?"

"What? I don't care at all. Just curious. Who are you gonna ask?"

"Um, no one," Mush answered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And spend the night in hiding, pretending I'm not there."

"Why? Seriously, any of the girls would want to go with you."

"Right. But I don't want to go with any of them."

"Yeah, but—"

"Blink, serious, you're acting weird. What's up?"

"Nothing," he said, shrugging in what he hoped was an offhand. "I just thought it was a good idea about Trixie and all."

"It wasn't."

"Are you sure? Because I—"

"Blink," Mush interrupted, "the day I go to the dance with Trixie is the day you go to the dance with Smurf. It's never gonna happen."

"Of course not! Just..." He coughed. "Are you serious? You'd go to the dance with Trixie if I agreed to go with Smurf?"

"Sure." Mush shrugged as they started up the steps to their cabin. "But that would mean not only would you have to ask Smurf, she'd have to agree. And anyway, why would you want to?"

"I wouldn't. Just... You're serious. If I—"

"Yeah, sure. If for some ungodly reason you go with Smurf, then yes, I'll go with Trixie, and meanwhile, Satan will be polishing up his ice skates."

Blink laughed. "Sure. Sure."

Well, now he knew how to get Mush to agree. He waited for Mush to find his sweatshirt and they started outside again. The new question was, how to get Smurf to agree... And really, was it even worthwhile?

A night of being shackled to Smurf. On the other hand, a prank like he'd never have the chance to do again. He turned it over in his mind.

*

David had never felt so useless and vaguely humiliated in his life. As the week crept closer to closing, the tennis tournament began; and the game against Sneakers and Snitch had not gone well. To put it mildly, he scoffed to himself, and glared slightly at Jack.

He had no problem losing. Years of being last picked in gym class, and invariably winding up on the losing team no matter which team was stuck with him, had gotten David accustomed to it; sports and competitions weren't his thing, and he really didn't care that much. But Jack, on the other hand... Jack was not good at losing, and the game brought out a competitive streak in him that David really didn't like.

Sneakers was gloating. David shook his head a little and glanced at Snitch, who shrugged and reached for his water bottle. The two counselors were definitely not pillars of sportsmanship or good role models, when it came to competing.

"Oh, don't feel too bad, Cowboy," Sneakers smirked, as he crossed Jack and David off the roster with an exaggerated X in black marker. "It's not that you suck, it's that... Wait, no, it is that you suck."

Jack grit his teeth. "You're hysterical. Really."

"Though I gotta say, you did pretty well, playing both sides of the court like that. For all the good it did you."

"Yeah, yeah." Jack glowered at Sneakers, and then turned to glower slightly at David, who just looked away.

Jack had said he'd help cover David's side a little bit. And instead, he'd run over on to David's half of the court virtually every time the ball was hit there, forcibly shoving David out of the way if necessary. So David had just taken to standing at the back and letting him play one against two. It was like being shoved into right field playing baseball in middle school all over again—he didn't belong in the sport at all, he didn't want to be there, and now that he was there it was purely humiliating. And judging by the looks Jack had shot him, Jack was just as pissed as his baseball teammates had been that he was uncoordinated.

Despite Jack's best effort they'd lost, and Sneakers was clearly making Jack's bad mood worse. David leaned on the fence and waited for them to finish so he could go shower before he had to go set the table for dinner, wanting to at least apologize to Jack, but when Sneakers finally got to the point—"Oh, and Jack? Got ya last."—and then nearly skipped out of the court.

Jack turned to David, who looked away, and there was a pause. Finally, Jack must muttered, "Thanks for all your help, David," and walked off the court too.

David felt his heart sink slightly. That had hurt a lot more than he wanted to admit it did. He stared down at the ground and wordlessly followed Snitch back to their cabin, and Snitch paused to wait for him. "Those two are nuts," he said quietly. "Don't take it too hard."

"Yeah." David shrugged. "I'm really good at losing by now."

"You're not so bad."

David raised an eyebrow, and Snitch shrugged. "Okay, you... Uh, could use some work. But Jack was being kind of a jerk about the whole thing."

"No kidding."

"And anyway, it's just a game."

"Right." David nodded. "Just some stupid game." And mentally he added, No reason for Jack to get pissed at me, even though he is.

And David just didn't like the thought of Jack being pissed at him. It made him feel slightly sick to his stomach.

*

David spent most of dinner staring out the window and trying to avoid being yelled at by Morris, which didn't work out very well, because Morris loved to yell. He glanced over at Jack a few times, but Jack was always either engrossed in a conversation or was glaring at Sneakers, and despite the many times before it seemed like their minds were linked and they'd catch each others' eyes, Jack never once looked at him. David sighed.

He'd warned Jack, and Jack said it was fine. Jack had seen how bad he was and was fine with it. But despite all of that, Jack was annoyed anyway. David moped as he began to clean the table and everyone filtered out of the dining hall. Jack had just been getting over being all awkward, too, when this had happened. They'd both been feeling comfortable again, finally, which was all David had wanted. He wanted to be close to Jack without Jack stuttering every other sentence; he wanted Jack to be comfortable putting an arm around him, or at least just standing next to him.

He had really liked that closeness. After all the times he'd fallen asleep on Jack's shoulder in the infirmary, and the habit Jack had made of casually touching his shoulder and leaning on him, the closeness had felt like second nature. David had never had that with anyone before, not even his few friends from home. Jack just made it feel natural, and like it was the best thing in the world. And they were finally getting it back, and now being robbed of it again because of a stupid tennis game...

David dropped the cleaning rag back into the bucket of soapy water and turned to leave, only to find Jack standing in the doorway. David's heart rate abruptly sped up as he walked to the door—not to see Jack, he told himself, but just so he could go to the evening activity.

"Hey," Jack said.

"Hey."

"So... uh... Madball tonight, huh? People always get hurt."

David shrugged. Madball was an all camp soccer match on the big field, played with four teams instead of two, and all four teams were huge and the whole thing was chaos. This would be the third madball game of the summer, and David had already learned to hate it with a passion.

"I'm not really up for playing," Jack continued.

"Yeah." David snorted. "Would want you to accidentally lose twice in one day, huh? I doubt you could handle that."

Jack didn't react to that for a second, and for that second David was smug—then he realized that this was Jack he was talking to, and for all he'd spoken without thinking, and for all he was angry at Jack for being angry at him, he hadn't meant to say anything snippy.

Finally, Jack just shrugged. "I guess I deserved that."

"No kidding."

"Davey, I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I just—Sneakers gets to me. I shouldn't have... It was supposed to be fun. And I guess I kinda went too far with, uh, covering your side and all, and... I'm sorry."

David glanced at him, and bit back the rather impolite comment that was his gut reaction. Jack was apologizing, after all. And that meant a lot. "I warned you," David finally said.

"I know. I got carried away." Jack turned to face David. "Just... Davey, you've been so great with me and my, uh... Crush and all. And after all that, I couldn't stand the thought of you being pissed at me, and... God, I'm sorry."

And despite it all, David half-smiled at that. "It's okay, Jack. It... I didn't want you pissed at me either."

"I'm not," Jack promised.

"Me, neither, then."

Jack broke into his giant grin. "Good. That's really... Really good. Uh..."

And we're back to the stuttering, David thought, but he just shrugged as they made their way to where the madball game was already going on.

*

At the end of the third day, Sarah and Shakes' bunk was finally fully disinfected, and the two of them moved their things from Murphy One over to Murphy Two; Trixie and Grammar were moved from Two over to One, and the girls' counselors hoped that would be the end of everything.

They finally were once again able to gather with everyone else during the pre-curfew hangout time in the dining hall. Smurf was in the process of eating a muffin, drinking a cup of coffee, and explaining how very glad she was she wouldn't be in charge of cleaning the dirty coffee mug when Blink, gritting his teeth, waded into the conversation.

Smurf glared at him. "Can I help you?" she finally demanded.

"Yes, actually." He tried not to scowl at her. He had to try to be nice. She was under no such restraints, and was obviously glaring back at him.

"Well?"

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, and nodded to the porch. "Outside? Please?"

"What?" Smurf asked. "What's going on?"

"Smurf..." He sighed. "You know what? Never mind. Forget it."

"Wait—"

"Seriously, just forget—"

"Fine!" she snapped, and refilled her coffee mug. "Just tell me... Whatever."

"Okay, but..." He trailed off. Changing his mind was so tempting. But this was for a good cause. And he could put up with Smurf for the ultimate payoff, he decided. It would be worth it. So they walked out on to the porch and she eyed him suspiciously while he tried to figure out how to phrase this.

"...Well?" she repeated.

"Okay, okay! Just..." He coughed a little. "Look, this is weird."

"No kidding."

"But, I was talking to Mush earlier today. And here's the thing." He lowered his voice, making it up as he went, hoping he sounded at least vaguely like he was telling the truth. "I think Mush is starting to actually like Trixie."

Smurf laughed. "Uh... No, he isn't."

"He is, though. Trust me, he's my best friend. But he doesn't want people to think he... After all the insanity with her stalking him, he doesn't want to look like he actually likes her unless he's sure he's not hallucinating or anything."

"If you say so." She sounded skeptical, but he continued anyway.

"So he was thinking he might ask her to the dance. But he doesn't just want to... To ask. He wants to make it look like he had to be dragged into it incase things go badly."

"So?"

"So, he said he'd ask Trixie to the dance if..." Blink groaned. "I can not believe I'm saying this. He so owes me. But... He said he'd ask Trixie if you'd go with me, so he could say he was only doing it because I was."

Smurf stared at him, then started laughing again. "You're hysterical, Blink, really. So what did you actually want?"

"That's actually it."

"No, really."

"No, really. I'm not joking."

"And you actually agreed to ask me?"

"He's my best friend." Blink shrugged.

"You must really like rejection. After Sarah, you ask me. "

"I actually don't like it so much, but I told Mush I'd try. So, having tried, I'm done." He started back towards the door, then paused. "Anyway, Mush thought maybe because she's your best friend, you might want to help her out. But I told him you'd never, ever say yes."

"Hey!" she objected. "You make me sound like some kind of terrible person, for not wanting to spend the night dealing some one eyed idiot."

"Well, the thought of going with some mentally unbalanced dwarf didn't exactly appeal to me either. I knew I had nothing to worry about."

"Hey!" she repeated again, and it was either the fact that she couldn't stand Blink being right about something, or a genuine urge to help out a friend, or both, but she found herself saying, "Look, if it's that important to them..."

Blink waited, trying not to smirk.

"...Fine," she snapped. "But don't think this means I don't hate you!"

"Ditto!" he answered, and walked back inside, shaking his head a little, not quite sure how he'd pulled that off. He sat down next to Mush, and poked him in the side.

"What?" Mush demanded.

"So, that thing I was talking about earlier?"

"Huh?"

"Well... Guess who my date to the dance is?"

Mush stared at him. "Oh no. No. Oh no no no no no, you did not..."

"Come on. It's just one night. And you said—"

"I didn't know you were actually going to do something insane like ask Smurf out!"

"I did not ask Smurf out! I... asked her to the dance, which doesn't even count as a real date anyway, I mean, this is camp."

"Blink..."

"Come on. It's only one night."

"I don't believe..." Mush groaned, and glanced around to where Smurf was resuming her previous conversation, then yelled, "Smurf! Please tell me Blink did not just ask you out!"

"He did," she called back.

"Please please tell you didn't say yes..."

Smurf scowled. "Announce it to the whole world, why don't you?"

Mush's eyes widened, and then he turned to Blink, as everyone else turned to stare at Smurf, who glowered back at the entire room. But Mush just shook his head in disbelief. "I hate you."

"Come on."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Blink grinned. "Thanks, buddy. I'm sure we'll both be utterly miserable."

"I wasn't joking. I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah..."

As Mush grudgingly forced himself to get up and actually ask Trixie—two minutes later, Blink knew she'd said yes by the amount of high pitched squealing coming from that side of the room—Blink glanced around the dining hall and saw Sarah sitting off by herself, looking utterly miserable. He wanted to get up and talk to her, to tell her it would be all right...

...But he knew better, because even if it was a nice, platonic gesture she'd still bite his head off. She'd made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him at all, so he looked away and over to where Trixie was literally jumping up and down, arms wrapped around Mush (who looked like he wanted to kill himself), as David was walking over to talk to Sarah.

David sat down quietly. "Hey," he mumbled.

She didn't look over at him. "Hey," she answered flatly.

"Are you okay? You seem a bit... Down."

"I hate it here." She shrugged. "And everyone hates me, and I just want to go home."

"Come on, it's not so bad..."

"Maybe not for you. People like you. But no one here likes me at all... I just want to go home."

David hesitated, then said, "Have you tried asking Mom and Dad?"

"I wrote to them about it. They just wrote back that I should stick it out and it would get better. That was a week and a half ago. Before anyone covered my stuff in ants or I had to work in the kitchen or deal with Blink. They just don't get it."

"Oh." David paused. "That sucks... We can call home in a few days, though, right?"

"Yeah. So? They're not going to listen to me."

"They might... I could ask them."

"Why would they listen to you?"

"Because." David shrugged. "I just know how Mom's mind works. If I admit that I like it here, when I was the real reason we all got sent, she'll be so happy she'll agree to anything. "

"Yeah, right."

"Worth a shot, though, right?"

"I guess."

"I mean, if you want me to. I'm not trying to get rid of you, you just... Seem miserable."

"Yeah. David..."

"Hmm?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I dunno." He laughed. "Maybe I just want you to stop cramping my style."

She smiled a little bit. "You know I don't say things like that about you at school."

"I know."

"I stand up for you, when people call you a nerd. Sometimes... I try to."

"I know, Sarah. I appreciate it."

"Even though you are a nerd," she said, but she was smiling a tiny bit.

"You're the nerd now," he answered.

"I guess I am."

"I'll ask Mom and Dad for you," he promised.

"Thanks, Davey."

He got up and went back to the table where he'd been sitting before, where Race was attempting to teach him to play poker. Race raised an eyebrow. "What?" David demanded.

"Something very odd is going on tonight. It's like there's something in the air."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you were just willingly nice to your sister, Blink asked out Smurf, and Mush asked out Trixie. Something very, very odd is going on. I think maybe my mom put drugs in the water or something."

David laughed. "You're paranoid," he accused. "Now, see, if I had managed to pull off that tennis game, then you'd know something was up..."

[End Chapter Eighteen]
Chapter Nineteen: At the Hop