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“I was being a prick.”

I stared. “Could you repeat that? I need witnesses.”

“Never mind.”

“No, no. Everybody!” I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Darius D’Angelo just admitted⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I laughed, and for half a second, we were… us. Not whatever angry, broken mess we’d become. Just Alvy and DeeDee.

But then, as the universe was known to do, that moment was ruined when someone called out, “This is fucking weird.”

Our laughter died as four campers stood near the trees. Older boys. The bully ass-fucks. I’d noticed them from the beginning and they’d noticed me too. I didn’t like how they were staring at Darius. Specifically the skirt.

One looked between him and me. “So both our counselors are gay now?”

Darius went rigid. I didn’t. I’d spent too many years hearing that tone to bother flinching anymore.

I climbed onto the dock and shook like a dog in front of them all. “Congratulations. You’ve solved the big mystery.”

The boy frowned. “Like I said, that’s fucking weird.”

Darius spoke before I could. “I’m not gay, not that it’s any of your goddamn business. Why are you up so early and out of your cabins?”

The kid shrugged. “We like keeping on our toes. We go huntin’.”

His friend laughed, and I rolled my eyes.

“I mean, we find you two here all smiley on the dock before everyone’s awake. Like, what are the odds?” the ass-fuck continued.

I looked at Darius. His body had gone completely still again, his face blank, but there was fear in his eyes. It was his mask. The one he put on when somebody said something that hurt and he refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing it. I hated that face and I always had… because he’d created it for me.

“Pretty good, apparently,” I replied.

The first boy glared in my direction. “My daddy wouldn’t like it.”

“Your sperm donor sounds delightful.”

“Alvin,” Darius warned.

I turned to him. “What?”

“Leave it.”

Yeah, I’d heard that one before. Along with a few others: Don’t say anything. Don’t make a scene. Don’t make people wonder. Just leave it, Alvin.

The boy smirked. That did it.

“No.”

Darius reached from my arm, but I was already stepping off the dock.

“You’ve got something to say about me, kid, say it. But don’t stand ten feet away giggling like you’re twelve years old.”

His smile vanished. “I don’t care that you’re fucking gay.”

“Fantastic. Then we’ve avoided another crisis before breakfast.”