Fan Fiction ❯ Atheist Camp ❯ Chapter III ( Chapter 3 )

Atheist Camp

Chapter Three

 

By Violet Dragon

 

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Allie was the most beautiful person I have ever known. Her hair was dreaded down to her waist, and I often wondered if it was so heavy that it created neck aches for her. But she never complained, really—about anything. She was the happiest, most content, spontaneous person. I often found myself just gazing into her eyes, which were bright and dark blue. I could never love her like I loved Dominick, though. She was just my friend.

 

We met in the park one day, while I sat on a bench by myself a week after camp closed, reading a book by Oscar Wilde. I felt a ball hit the back of my head, but paid no attention to it. I'm like that—if I delve myself into one thing with enough concentration, then I can be oblivious to everything else. I heard a girl shriek from behind me, and Allie ran to kneel in front of me.

 

“Are you okay?” She grabbed my shoulders as if I were about to go into a coma.

 

“Yeah…” I smiled at her, my breath taken away by her beauty. “I'm okay.”

 

She looked toward my eyes with confusion, wrinkling her brow and scratching her scalp. We made a deep connection that day.

 

When atheist camp was announced to be back in session, I was surprised by the amount of parents who let their children go back. I suppose that since the news, media, and fundamentalists were persecuting us, we now were stronger by building a unity to uphold our beliefs. I found that interesting.

 

Allie said that she would be going as well—her parents were devout Christians, and she apparently reveled in angering them. This happened by my telling her I'd be gone all of June, and she promptly announced that I couldn't go since we just met. Therefore, this led to her signing up (and pulling some strings to get in). She seemed to be extremely happy that we'd be spending most of the summer together. Of course, the girls' camp was separated across a patch of tall woods.

 

Everyone was surprised to see me back. They thought I had been traumatized and wouldn't want to go back—well, they were wrong. I had to go back to come to terms with Dominick's suicide. I wanted to be standing where he stood when he shot himself, thinking about how in five seconds he would no longer be alive in this world. Allie was obviously worried about me after she heard the stories that related Dom and me as friends. She thought I was traumatized as well, which I was.

 

That night we settled in and most everyone were chatting and playing games around several fire pits, Allie and I went off to talk by ourselves for a few moments. I could tell she was generally concerned and trying to get me to open up. I didn't open up very easily… still don't.

 

As we walked contently in silence, the warm breeze of hair smoothing our hopes and fears, I spotted a young boy by my tree. He sat just like I sat four years ago, with arms drawing his knees to his chest, staring out at the lake, knowing he was completely alone. I wanted to go up to him and ask him if he wanted to play cards, to talk to him about life and love, to tell him he would never be alone for the rest of his short life. I wondered if I could affect him like Dom affected my life, and teach him how to be confident and content in himself. I wondered if I did all that, would I end up like Dominick ended up.

 

The young boy's eyes were watery and rather large, with a wise sadness that emanated from them. I thought he was about twelve, but I wasn't sure. I nudged Allie.

 

“Who is he, do you know?”

 

She squinted and glanced toward him. “I… hmm, not sure. I think that's Zachary's little brother. He sure looks like him, doesn't he?”

 

I frowned, but not unhappily. He did somewhat resemble Zachary, the first boy I kissed about two years ago. This boy was more slender, with longer and dark hair; but they both had a naïve innocence about them.

 

“How old is he, do you know?”

 

“Probably fourteen or fifteen—” she grinned at my expression, “—I know, he doesn't look it. He gets picked on a lot, we go to the same high school. I probably don't stand up for him as much as I could. But y'know, I can't always be around. He's really odd, eccentric—even more so than you!”

 

I smiled a little with her. “Let's go back… I'm tired.”

 

And I was. Tired, that is.

 

Allie hugged me tightly before running off to her cabin. Her long dreadlocks slapped against her back as she jogged away, and she turned to smile at me before entering the small patch of trees. I went to engage in a deep sleep.

 

When I dreamt, I knew where I was and what was going on. This time, it was completely dark. I felt hands groping my sides, from up my thighs to my chest and fondling… my groin. There were feelings of pain, fear, disgust, unknowing, and weird sensations I never knew of before. The disgust throughout my body kept rising as the quick movement of the hands on me would not cease their searching. I started crying, and the man—it was a man I realized—told me to shush and gently kissed my cheek, then my small mouth. I was young, and naïve, and couldn't do anything about his actions.

 

I woke up, crying in real life. One of my cabin mates snorted in his sleep and rolled over, a thin line of drool from his pillow to his mouth snapping. It was nearly light out, and I shivered from the morning cold. I had that dream before… when I was younger, until twelve years old. Why would I have it again now?

 

Standing up, I stretched my arms to either side. I stuffed my feet into a pair of shoes and scrambled my hair with a half-asleep hand. Morning walks were a favorite of mine; I could be alone with nature, as the rest of the camp was asleep.

 

This morning, I discovered I wasn't alone. After walking toward my tree to sit under and ponder, I found Zachary's apparent younger brother in my spot. He looked up at me, and quickly down, barely giving me a greeting. I understood he was simply shy.

 

“Hallo,” I said gently.

 

He jumped in his spot, obviously shocked. He was more like me than I knew. “Hi…” he replied, his voice small and unsure.

 

“Mind if I sit with you?” I smiled.

 

“N-no.” He shook his head, his eyes following me as I sat on the ground.

 

“I hear your Zachary's brother,” I said to him.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“What's your name?”

 

“Jean,” he said with a despaired sigh.

 

“You don't like it?” I raised my eyebrows at his sigh.

 

“It's okay… it's a girl's name though, so—I don't know. It's okay.”

 

“I think it suits you,” I looked toward the lake. “My name is Eric Von Poiet… it is French, it's an odd name. So do you like it here? Is it your first time?”

 

“Yeah, my parents thought I should socialize more… but I haven't met anyone really.” He smiled with a pain of regret.

 

I laughed. “That's just what my parents thought too—I never met anyone here, except…” I remember Dominick. “Well, I haven't kept in contact with anyone here.”

 

He frowned at me. “Why are you so sad?”

 

I remained unflinching from his rather bold question. “A great friend of mine died awhile ago.”

 

“I heard you kissed my brother…” Jean said softly, as if afraid to anger me.

 

“Yeah… I remember that.”

 

“Do you like him?”

 

“No, I just wanted to prove a point… we were playing spin the bottle—” he nodded in acknowledgement, “—and all the kids laughed when my spin went to Zachary. I just wanted to make a point that they had to grow up and realize that there are different people in the world.”

 

“So… you're not gay?” He was obviously emboldened by now, asking me all these questions. He was much more open than I was at his age. Perhaps he just had the instinct to trust me.

 

“No, I don't like boys that way.” I smiled.

 

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

“No, I don't like girls that way.”

 

His brow furrowed quizzically. “I don't get it.”

 

“Um… I guess you could call me asexual.” He still frowned. “That's when you have no desire for either sex… or anyone really.”

 

“You've never loved anyone that way?”

 

“Well… not really. There was this one person—” I stopped. “But that person is gone now.” I felt my eyes tearing up, and I quickly wiped the forming moisture away.

 

“I'm sorry… I ask too many questions!” He stood up suddenly.

 

“No!” I said, putting my hand on his leg. “Please, it's okay. I was like you once… I see you in me. You don't always have to be unhappy.”

 

He looked contorted inside, torn from one way of life to a new hope. “I have to go get dressed. Thanks for talking to me. But don't feel sorry for me.”

 

“I don't.”

 

He nodded, and walked off toward his cabin.

 

What was I trying to do here?