Chapter Text
Frank sat in the passenger seat of his mom’s car, arms crossed defiantly over his chest—a profound pout consuming his lips. His parents were divorcing and their fights had reached new extremes—even their phone calls to each other were intense despite Frank’s father having moved out. To “spare” him the torment of hearing the shouting matches as the paperwork was finalized and the custody arrangement was decided upon, his mother was sending him to camp.
It was a three week long “getaway” where he would “get” to stay in “real” log cabins with other boys his age. He could make friends, his mother insisted. Good friends. He should be “happy,” his mother said, that it wasn’t a religious camp. There would be no Sunday or Saturday night service, no scripture classes—just time with nature, time for crafts and hikes.
Frank didn’t care. It would suck anyway. He wasn’t going to have fun in the woods. He would get bitten by mosquitos and have to pull ticks off his skin every night. He prayed there would be real toilets and not stupid port-a-pots or outhouses. He was a human being—not an animal. He didn’t want to crap in the woods…
“This is the last time I’ll see you for three weeks and you’re not even going to talk to me?” His mother asked.
“Whose fault is that?” Frank muttered. It was a phrase his parents had spat back and forth at each other for months. Once, late at night, he’d heard his parents in the kitchen screaming at one another. His mother had said something about Frank—something about them needing to stop fighting because they had a son to care for. His father’s response had simply been “Well, whose fault is that?”
Frank never told his parents what he’d heard, but he hadn’t seen his father the same way since. They shouldn’t fight because they had a son, his mother had said. Whose fault was that? His father had asked…
That’s what Frank was…a fault. He was the reason they were together at all—the reason they hated each other…
It hurt him, but he wasn’t about to let on that he was so weak. So instead of crying to his mother or the few friends he had back at school, Frank kept quiet—kept his head down and scowled whenever someone demanded his attention.
“You need to quit with this bad attitude,” his mother said.
Frank rolled his eyes and continued to pout as he stared out the window at the passing scenery. His heart filled with dread as he laid eyes on the first on the large, wooden signs.
“Tranquil Maples Camp for Kids.”
Frank rolled his eyes at how cheesy it sounded. He could hardly even imagine how terrible this place was going to be.
( ) ( ) ( )
He’d made it through week one without much excitement. His room was shared with nine other boys—none of whom he really cared to talk to—and the next cabin over had another ten boys in it. Then, across a long path, were the lodges for the girls. There were only fifteen girls at the camp, totaling thirty-five kids. Not a very impressive number, but Frank guessed parents realized this place sucked and stopped sending their kids to it.
The camp counselors were all over the top on the cheesy, “we’re here to help you have fun” gambit and Frank couldn’t stand any of it. He was twelve and “Craft Time” felt so juvenile to him. The girls just loved craft time though… They were always excited to draw and paint and sew.
Frank didn’t care for any of it.
While the other kids did their ordered crafts, Frank sat at his little table and picked at the art supplies—his eyes fixed on a boy down the table from him.
His name was Gerard.
Like the girls, Gerard enjoyed the designated art time. Like Frank, however, he enjoyed adding his own spin on things. When they were supposed to make lanyards, Gerard made a miniature noose. When they were supposed to make cloth dolls, Gerard made a little demon creature that he then fit the noose around. When they were supposed to draw tree leaves based on which ever one they were given, Gerard put his own spin on it. He made his leaf the map of a fantasy city where all of the veins were roads and every discolored dot on the drying leaf was a major building.
Frank had wanted to approach Gerard that day and show his admiration for the drawing, but someone else beat him to it. Someone who was rude and mean and took the drawing and called Gerard a dork.
It let Frank down that Gerard merely hung his head and took the abuse. He didn’t even say anything back to the other boy. He just sat there until a counselor came over and made the boy give Gerard the drawing back.
As soon as it was on the table, Gerard crumpled it up in a ball and threw it away as they left the craft tables in favor of a “late” night hiking trip.
Frank didn’t know why, but as they’d left the lodge, he picked up the crumpled paper Gerard had thrown away and kept it in his pocket.
In fact, every time Gerard was teased and threw away his artworks, Frank picked them out of the trash and pocketed them. He hid them in his pillowcase when his roommates weren’t watching him, but never really had any time to admire them. At camp, there was no alone time. Not a minute. Not ever. There was always someone in the room with him, always someone else in the next toilet stall or in the next shower.
He hated that. He hated the cramped quarters and that someone was always watching him. All he wanted was to look at Gerard’s artwork up close and admire the little details… But if the other boys caught him with Gerard’s work, the “ooooo Frankie’s gotta crush!” banter would start up again.
He just barely survived that nightmare in the fourth grade when a girl named Terry kissed him on the playground. He hated that girl—still did!—even though she moved away the next year. He didn’t want to be picked on for liking Gerard’s art.
Liking his art wasn’t the same as having a crush. It just wasn’t. Even if Gerard’s long hair was cool and Frank felt himself start to blush whenever the other boy would run his fingers through it—pushing his bangs out of his face as he painted or drew.
( ) ( ) ( )
The first time Frank ever got the idea to talk to Gerard—the idea! not the courage, because Frank was far from too shy to talk to Gerard—was during a hike. Gerard had his little demon doll hooked to his back belt loop, hanging from its lanyard noose. Gerard, who was terribly out of shape and a sweaty mess after only scaling a couple of hills on the trail, was breathing too heavily and loudly to notice the quiet jingle that came when the doll fell from the noose and bounced onto the ground—the bell sewed inside its head jingling.
Frank hurried toward it once it fell and picked it up just before another boy—Tommy Whiting—could stomp on it.
“Watch it!” Frank snapped when the boy’s foot nearly landed on his hand.
“What’s your problem?” Tommy snapped.
Frank scowled at him and stood up from the ground, clutching on to the demon doll.
The exchange was loud enough that some of the others ahead of them turned to see what was happening, but not Gerard. He just continued on, moving around those who stopped to watch Frank and Tommy—hoping to see a fight.
“Now, now, boys. Let’s keep moving, okay?” One of the counselors said as she walked past, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder as though he were the one who had been offended—not Frank whose hand almost got smashed.
“Yeah. Keep moving,” Tommy snapped, glaring at Frank who glared right back.
“You should try to get along a little better, don’t you think, Frankie?” Another counselor asked, approaching him once Tommy had walked away.
Frank clicked his tongue and pulled away from the woman’s touch. He didn’t want to get along any better with the other kids. He had friends at home. Why did he need temporary friends at a three week camp? He saw what friendships turned into, anyway. They turned into people living together and then hating each other.
Why would he want any more of that in his life than he had to have?
With the doll clenched in his fist, Frank skulked off to catch up with Gerard. They didn’t need to be friends, but Frank didn’t see the need to mistreat the boy the way all the other kids did.
“Hey,” Frank said when he reached the panting boy’s side.
“Wh-what?” Gerard asked, struggling to breathe as they marched uphill.
“You dropped this,” Frank said, regretting it the instant he held the doll out to Gerard. He wished he’d kept it. He could add it to the collection in his pillowcase and keep it forever. It could’ve been his demon doll…if only he hadn’t given it back.
At first, Gerard seemed confused, then he snatched the doll from Frank’s hand and stared at it with wide eyes. Frank could tell that Gerard really liked the doll he made—that he was proud of it—and it scared him to think he had almost lost it on the hike. Frank bet if Gerard were alone—if the eyes of the other kids around them weren’t on him—he would hug the doll to his chest and maybe even kiss it, happy to have it back.
“Thanks,” Gerard said before quickly stuffing the little doll into the front pocket of his jeans.
“I’m… I’m Frank, by the way,” Frank said, looking down at the ground as he continued to walk at Gerard’s side.
“Oh, um… I’m… I’m Gerard.”
The camp was so small that they already knew each other’s names—as well as the names of the thirty-plus other kids living with them—but Frank could think of no other way start a conversation.
“I think your doll looks really cool,” Frank added, head still down. He felt like such a chump—praising Gerard’s crafts like he had a crush or something.
“Uh—thanks. I named him Lloyd.”
“Lloyd?” Frank asked.
“Yeah…”
“Lloyd is pretty cool,” Frank said, trying to keep the conversation going despite Gerard’s uncomfortable, awkward mumbles.
“I think I’m going to make a sidekick for him… Shelly said she would give me some left over fabric yesterday. I think she forgot though…I’ll have to ask her when we get back.”
“What’s the friend’s name gonna be?” Frank asked.
“I don’t know… I’ll decide when he’s finished. It’s weird to pick a name for something that’s not finished yet.”
“I guess,” Frank said, slapping his neck as a mosquito bit him.
“Mosquito?” Gerard asked.
“Yeah…”
“Don’t you have bug spray in your cabin?”
“I ran out,” Frank muttered.
“I have an extra can if you want it,” Gerard said, his voice a quiet mumble as though offering had made embarrassed.
“Maybe for the next hike,” Frank said.
Gerard was quiet as the crested the hill, but once the counselors allowed them to explore the clearing at the top, Frank decided to start the conversation again.
“Remember when they made us draw leaves for craft hour?” Frank asked.
“Yeah,” Gerard mumbled. It obviously wasn’t a fond memory for him after he’d had his picture taken away by the other boys and having been mocked for it.
“I thought yours was pretty cool. I mean, how dumb is it to just draw leaves? We see enough of them every day out here. You can at least make it interesting.”
“I guess,” Gerard mumbled. “So…why did your parents send you here? What did you do?”
“Do?” Frank asked.
“Yeah. Don’t you know? This is where parents send the kids they don’t want. My brother’s off school for the summer, too, but my parents didn’t make him come. What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Frank said. “My parents are divorcing. They fight all the time and I guess I’m in the way.”
“Oh,” Gerard said, instantly clamming up once the conversation became more serious.
“I don’t care though. I don’t like my dad anyway.” At least, he didn’t like his dad anymore. Not after the “whose fault is that” statement. Frank didn’t like feeling like a mistake, like an issue to be fought over.
“My dad said if I went to camp I’d learn how to act like a boy,” Gerard said, his head hanging low as they walked toward the tree line. If they tried to go back in the woods, one of the counselors would call them back, but they stopped just at the edge next to a bush with wild berries on it. “He says I act… He says I act like a girl and he doesn’t want a daughter.”
“You don’t act like a girl,” Frank snapped, already getting angry at this faceless man he’d never met. “The girls won’t even walk in the mud! They whine about their stupid shoes getting dirty and freak out when they get paint of their clothes. The girls here are stupid. You don’t act like them.”
Frank didn’t know why it made him so angry to hear Gerard’s father had insulted him. Perhaps it was because his own father had accused him of not being interested enough in sports like a boy “should be,” or maybe it was because the thought made Gerard look so unhappy.
Gerard didn’t respond to Frank’s outburst except to take the demon doll out of his pocket and look it over.
“He’ll probably throw Lloyd away if I take him home,” Gerard said.
“He’d better not! Lloyd is cool. He’s a demon. If you were too girly, you would’ve made a girl doll with a dress or something. Not a cool demon—”
“He’s not a demon. He’s a super hero. His face is red because he’s wearing a mask.”
“If he’s not a demon, why does he have fangs?”
“It’s part of his mask. He wants to look tough because, in real life, he’s just a librarian.”
“A librarian?”
“Yeah… He works with kids’ books. Like, little kids’ books.”
“And at night he fights crime?”
“It’s a dumb idea,” Gerard said.
“I think it’s pretty cool,” Frank responded quickly, blushing when Gerard looked up at caught his eye. Frank hated how much he was praising the other boy. He had no reason to attempt to flatter him. It’s not like they could really be friends…
“You should… You should keep him for me,” Gerard said, handing Lloyd to Frank.
“But… But you were going to make him a sidekick,” Frank said. “Maybe I should have the sidekick instead. Superheroes aren’t girly.” He quickly handed Lloyd back, too embarrassed—too shy—to accept the gift. “Your dad won’t take him away. You should keep him and make a sidekick for me.”
Frank wanted to keep the doll, but it felt wrong to take it. Gerard hadn’t made it for him and it would be no different from the artworks Frank had pulled from the trash—just another discarded item Gerard didn’t really care about.
“I…I guess I could make his sidekick and give it to you,” Gerard said, staring at Lloyd with a mixed expression—as if he were trying to decide whether or not to be sad about Frank rejecting his gift.
“They could be like friendship charms, but—but like guy ones,” Frank said rapidly, looking away when his face heated up again.
“Th-that’s a really cool idea—I-I never would’ve thought of that!” Gerard sounded excited about the idea, making Frank feel a little more confident. Gerard didn’t even bother to mention that the rule of friendship charms usually meant one of them made a gift for the other—not one doing all the work.
( ) ( ) ( )
Frank sat across the desk from the camp’s director, his arms crossed over his chest and his head down in a furious scowl.
“Frank, would you like to explain what happened at dinner tonight?” The director, Bill, asked.
“No,” Frank spat.
“Well that’s not very helpful.”
“I don’t care,” Frank muttered. His hand was hurting and he didn’t want to sit here and get yelled at for sticking up for his best friend. He had a little, blue demon-superhero sidekick (Bruce) attached to his belt loop on a tight noose, made for him by the boy who Tommy Whiting had bullied to tears at lunchtime. Frank wouldn’t let that boy get away with it.
Frank overheard the taunting start from all the way across the meal hall. He’d been scooping macaroni salad onto his plate when he heard the phrase “fat dweeb” ring out in the echoing hall. One of the counselors called out “hey now” as though that would really end the taunting.
Tommy just kept going and Frank watched from across the room, not quite able to hear what was being said but able to see the toll it took on his friend. Gerard, at first, stared Tommy defiantly in the eye. But then his determination faltered and he lowered his head more and more until his shoulders started to shake and Frank realized his friend was crying.
Immediately, Frank saw red. He left his tray on the rail by the lunch buffet and stormed across the room. Without a second thought, he’d drawn back his fist and punched Tommy right in his stupid, dumb mouth. He cuts his knuckles on the boy’s teeth, but unfortunately didn’t knock any of them out.
“We called your parents,” Bill said. “There is a zero tolerance policy for fighting here.”
Frank kept his head down, not wanting to show how unhappy the words made him. He hated the camp and he wanted to leave more than anything, but Gerard was here. Once he left camp, they’d never see each other again. Gerard said he wouldn’t give Frank his home number because his dad wouldn’t like him to get calls. This time together was all they were ever going to have and now, because he’d chosen to defend Gerard’s honor, that time was over.
“I must say, Frank, of everyone here, we never expected this sort of behavior from you.”
“Tommy called Gerard fat. He deserved to get punched,” Frank said, sniffing a little once the words were out though he was sure as hell not crying.
“You could’ve told one of the counselors that you saw your friend being picked on. You didn’t need to take matters into your own hands.”
“I’m not a snitch,” Frank hissed. “Tommy needed to learn a lesson.”
( ) ( ) ( )
“I hear they’re making you go home,” Gerard said.
Frank didn’t know how the other boy had snuck away from the hike everyone was supposed to be on, but his heart leapt at the chance to see his friend one last time before he had to go home. By the time he’d gotten out of the office—and off the phone with his very irate mother—the base camp was empty and everyone was off on a light, evening hike.
Everyone but Gerard, it seemed.
“Yeah,” Frank said, looking up from his suitcase.
“Why did you have to punch him? He’s not worth you getting sent home…”
“He was making fun of you. I didn’t like it,” Frank said.
“No one’s ever…stood up for me before like that,” Gerard said after a long pause.
Frank didn’t know what to say and looked away as his cheeks started to burn. He’d never punched anybody before—not when he wasn’t playing. He’d never really stood up for his friends at home either, though, and this whole experience was new to him.
He was sorry he was getting sent home and sad that he would be leaving Gerard behind, but he would do it again if he were given the chance. Tommy got what he deserved and Frank would never forget the look on Gerard’s face when he looked up and saw what had happened.
He’d been surprised and delighted. Frank had spent days complimenting Gerard’s art, but nothing flattered him like that punch did. That told Gerard that Frank was all in. He would stick up for Gerard. He was the only person who would really stick up for Gerard no matter what.
“Can I…help you pack?” Gerard asked, coming further into the room.
“Sure,” Frank said, even though he hadn’t brought much stuff and most of things were already stuffed into his black suitcase and duffle bag.
Gerard came to sit down on the floor next to him and then, to Frank’s surprise, started tugging his clothing back out of the suitcase and began folding them properly and stacking them neatly on the floor.
“Do you think…I could have your address? Then we could write to each other instead of call. My mom can give me money for stamps. Dad can’t listen in on letters like he could phone calls.”
“Sure!” Frank said, springing up too readily and then spinning back and forth a moment as he tried to remember where he’d put his notepads. They, as well as his books, were on his bed next to his duffle bag and he grabbed a piece of paper and pen. He quickly jotted down his home address and handed it to Gerard who folded it and put it in his pocket after reading it over again and again. “Can I have yours?” Frank asked.
“When I write you can… I just… If you send a letter first I won’t be expecting it and my dad could get to it first.”
“I wouldn’t say anything bad in it,” Frank said, not sure why Gerard was so afraid his father might see their future letters. He wouldn’t say anything to get his friend in trouble.
“I know, but…my dad doesn’t want me to really talk to guys.”
“Why?” Frank asked. His mom as the complete opposite. She didn’t want him hanging out alone with girls—not now that he’d “grown up.” He was only in sixth grade, but apparently that meant he was an adult. A “young” adult. Young adults couldn’t hang out with girls alone, and apparently Gerard’s dad didn’t want him to hang out with boys at all.
“I don’t know,” Gerard said, looking away at the floor.
They sat together and packed for over an hour until the director, Bill, appeared in the doorway with Frank’s mother who didn’t look at all pleased.
“Well, don’t just sit there. Get your things,” his mother said.
Frank sighed and looked at Gerard, unable to bring himself to say out loud that he didn’t want to go—that he wanted to stay here with Gerard for the rest of the week and then some. But Gerard didn’t say anything either, so Frank stood up and got his bags on his shoulders and in his arms. As he was about to leave the room, Gerard stood up from the floor and surprised Frank by giving him a hug.
Frank held him as tightly as he could with his arms and shoulders loaded with his heavy bags.
“Bye,” Gerard whispered, putting all of his strength into the hug.
“Bye,” Frank said, sighing and dropping his head onto Gerard’s shoulder. He really hoped Tommy and the others wouldn’t pick on Gerard more with him gone.
Maybe punching Tommy to get revenge wasn’t the best idea… But Frank had just been so angry! He couldn’t help it…
He really should’ve fought harder to control himself, though, because this goodbye was painful and he didn’t want to go.
“Alright, Frank. It’s time to go,” his mother said, having no patience for him or lengthy goodbyes.
Frank had to be the first to let go, then Gerard backed away. He kept his head down as Frank walked toward his mother at the door and didn’t look up, not even as Frank was led outside.
The last memory Frank had of him was with his head down the same way it had been in the lunch hall. Some of the times Frank recollected that day, he recalled Gerard’s shoulders trembling as he fought back tears, though he didn’t know if those memories were true or if he really just wished someone could really miss him or love him that much.