The Order of the Poison Oak (8 page)

More than anything in the world, I wanted out of that gift shop, away from those teenage boys and (to be totally honest) away from my kids. I was tired of being the freak, the center of attention. That was the reason why I’d come to be a counselor at Camp Serenity in the first place.

“Come on,” I said to my kids. “Let’s head back to the others.” None of my kids said a word. I think they were all feeling variations on the discomfort I was experiencing and wanted to leave too. So we all started walking to the door.

And everything would have been just fine, no one ever would have known about my secret embarrassment or anything, if at that exact moment one of those teenage boys hadn’t said, perfectly loudly, “Fuckin’ freaks!” Then the other guy—but neither of the girls—laughed.

When my kids heard this—and they
did
all hear it, because it was the kind of thing they were listening for—they froze. I froze too, but not like a gunslinger who’s just heard some desperado curse his mother and is about to whirl on him, guns drawn. No, I froze like a computer screen, feeling frustrated and worthless.

I wanted to turn on those guys and tell them to go fuck themselves. It was the right thing to do. It was definitely what they
deserved.

But for some reason, I couldn’t do it. I was still frozen, in need of a complete reboot. And as everyone with a computer knows, a reboot takes a very long time—more time than I had to recover my senses.

So I just stood there. Why didn’t I speak up? Why did I care that they might turn their sights on me? I’d never
see
them again! All I can say is that I was frozen, which even I can see is just about the lamest excuse imaginable. (Man, does this whole day make me look like a jerk or what?)

Anyway, time strung out like a loose thread. But still I didn’t say anything to those guys. Even now, my kids were looking to me, their big defender. I was the mother bear to their cubs, and we’d been attacked by hunters.

Finally, I found my voice, except I didn’t really. All I said was, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I was talking only to my kids, not to the ones who deserved to be spoken to.

My kids and I kept walking toward the door. You’ve heard the expression “a bull in a china shop”? That’s what I felt like. I even imagined I heard glass breaking all around me. Except it wasn’t me or anyone else knocking over all the gift shop’s delicate glass trinkets. No, it was my kids’ opinions of me, each one falling to the ground and shattering into a thousand unsalvageable pieces.

Chapter Nine

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the mighty Camp Counselor God residing in the Camp Counselor Heavens after all. I had really screwed up in that gift shop. Once outside in the parking lot, I tried to patch things up with my kids by saying, “Just ignore them. Don’t let them bother you.” But it was way too little, too late. I had spent the whole week trying to convince my kids that it wasn’t “me” versus “them” but that we were all just one big “us.” But in that one frozen, tongue-tied moment in the gift shop, I had taken us right back to Square One. Except I was now even farther back than Square One, because once someone trusts you and you betray that trust, it’s much harder for you to win it back.

By the end of that day, I knew for a fact I was on Square Negative One. Suddenly, I was on the receiving end of squirt guns again. When we went to the lodge for dinner, our table mysteriously had no place for me to sit. And that night before bed, I had to ask the kids fifteen times to go brush their teeth, not the usual six. I’m not even sure they were completely aware of what they were doing. All I knew was that they had once thought of me as one of them, but they didn’t anymore.

I considered reminding them of the promise they’d made several days ago, that afternoon in the patch of poison oak—that they’d listen to me and do what I said until the end of the session. But I didn’t say anything. Let’s face it: by acting like I had in that gift shop, I had pretty much absolved them of their promise.

I was hoping against hope that it was just a temporary setback—that the kids would forget what had happened and things would go back to normal the following day.

The next morning, I woke up to find my shoes filled with sand.

To make matters worse, it was Parent Visitation Day, which brought a whole bunch of new weirdness.

I would have thought that the kids would be happy to see their parents, and most
were
happy to see their own parents. But along with their own parents came the parents of all the other kids, and their brothers and sisters too.

Non-scarred parents, and non -scarred brothers and sisters.

Most of the kids lived too far away for their families to visit them halfway through the session. But some came, and the end result was that, for the first time since the session had begun, there were more non-scarred people at Camp Serenity than there were scarred people.

In other words, it was
Invasion of the Normal People!

It wasn’t just my kids who were made weird by this. I could sense it in all the kids. They were anxious, jumpy, like cats before an earthquake.

Three of my campers had families visiting. But the only interesting one was Trevor’s.

Man, they were good-looking: the mom, the dad, the older brother
(especially
the older brother— yeow!). With their perfect hair and rosy cheeks, they looked even better than a TV family; they looked like a TV-
commercial
family.

I introduced myself to them out on the grass above the beach, and Trevor’s mom said to me, “I just want to say how great it is, the work you’re doing here.” I couldn’t help but think she seemed a little nervous being around so many burn survivors, which I understood, but which I also thought was strange, given that her son was one.

“Oh,” I said to her. “Well, thanks.”

Trevor’s dad gave me a sober stare. “So how’s he been acting?” he asked me.

“Trevor?” I said. “Oh, he’s been great.” This was true. Even after the disaster in the gift shop, Trevor was still talking to me and everything.

Trevor’s dad kept looking at me. “He hasn’t been out of line?”

“No,” I said, a little confused. “He’s been terrific.”

As his parents and I talked, I glanced over at Trevor, who was nearby, tossing horseshoes (where in the hell had the older brother gone?). But that’s when I noticed for the first time that Trevor must have been good-looking too, before his accident. Not that he wasn’t
still
good-looking. He was. But, well, you know.

After a while, Trevor’s mom called him over. “Trevor?” she said. “Let’s go get some lunch!”

He didn’t react. And he definitely didn’t stop playing horseshoes. I thought this was odd. It was almost like he was ignoring them, and that wasn’t like him at all. Or had he not heard her?

“Trevor!” his dad yelled. “Get over here
now!”

Trevor threw his last horseshoe, then finally joined us. Was he scowling? Maybe I was imagining things, or maybe it was the harsh way his dad had yelled at him. I hadn’t even known Trevor
could
scowl.

After he and his family went off for lunch together, I had some time to myself (finally!). I went down to the dock to stare out at the water.

I was still thinking about Trevor and his parents. He had almost seemed like a different kid around them. Did it have something to do with the fact they were good-looking and he wasn’t—at least not like he had been? If his parents were embarrassed by their son’s scars, it made sense that Trevor might resent them, and that he might take it out on them by being a more difficult kid.

“Well?” Em said, suddenly joining me on the dock. “Did you talk to Gunnar?”

“Huh?” It took me a second to remember what she was talking about (I’d had a lot else on my mind). “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Sorry, no. It’s not that he doesn’t like you. He’s just too embarrassed. He thinks he’s going to make a fool out of himself again.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I said, thinking, Great, yet another person who’s disappointed in me.

It took me forever to get the kids to sleep that night. I knew they were still punishing me for the gift shop incident, and I guess I thought I deserved it, because I put up with it.

When they were finally asleep, I left to join the other counselors down around the campfire, even though I wasn’t sure there was anyone down there who particularly wanted to see me.

“Hey,” said a voice from the darkness.

“Huh?” I said.

It was Web, leaning against a tree right outside my cabin. It was almost like he’d been waiting for me.

“Headin’ down to the beach?” he asked.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“A walk? Where?”

“Dunno. Just a walk.”

Web was asking me to go for a walk? I immediately thought of my Scarlett O’Hara—like vow never to blow an opportunity with Web again. But then I remembered Min, and the fact that she was with Web now, and that he was straight anyway.

Still, I thought, it wouldn’t kill me to go for a walk with the guy.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s walk.”

We started down the trail away from camp. And that was when it finally sunk in what was happening.

I was going on a walk with Web!

A friendly walk, true. But still a walk.

“So,” he said. “How’s it goin’? With your kids.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I said. “Well, no, it’s not. It was a bad day. I screwed up, and they’re kind of punishing me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we were in the gift shop at that logging camp yesterday, and some older guys were there.”

“Hey!” he said suddenly. “Let’s go swimming!”

“Swimming?”

“Yeah! I know the perfect place!” And he started almost running down the trail.

Of course, I followed. And in a minute or two, we arrived on the beach at that no-longer-secret cove just north of camp. Sure enough, the big granite rock looked different than it had before. Tonight, it somehow reminded me of a volcano.

“Isn’t this great?” he said. “Let’s get in!”

“But I didn’t bring a suit,” I said. I have no idea why I said this. Obviously, he wanted to go skinnydipping. For some reason, whenever I get into situations like this, my brain goes completely numb.

“‘Sokay,” “Web said, peeling off his T-shirt. “You don’t tell, I won’t tell!” Then he kicked off his sandals, dropped his shorts (he wasn’t wearing underwear), and climbed up onto the rock. “Come on!”

Once again, he was completely naked up on that rock, and a lot closer than before (I guess I’d been wrong about never seeing him naked again). But unlike the time before, I didn’t dare look. So I stared down at the sand and started taking off my own clothes.

What was going on here? I thought to myself. Were we just two guys out on a friendly walk and now going for an innocent after-hours swim? Or was it something more?

I looked up just in time to see him make a perfect dive from that rock into the water.

When he surfaced, he looked back at me and called, “Come on! Get in!”

I was standing there in just my underwear. Please imagine me looking as studly as humanly possible. The truth is, I looked like a white broomstick with goose bumps. (Someday I
will
fill out!)

“Oh, man!” Web said, splashing around. “This feels great!”

I slipped off my underwear but didn’t climb up on the rock, because I didn’t want Web to see me (let’s just say I was cold and leave it at that, okay?).

Out in the lake, Web did a surface dive, and I took the opportunity to slide into the water. I’d expected it to be cold, but it wasn’t. It felt warm. I’d never swum naked before, and it felt strange—good-strange, not weird-strange. It was like I was being touched all over, even in places where I was definitely not used to being touched.

In fact, it felt a little too good. Those places where I wasn’t used to being touched? Suddenly, I had the opposite problem from the one I’d had back on the beach.

Web surfaced not five feet from where I was floating. I started in surprise.

“Whaddaya think?” he said, his face shimmering.

“Huh?” I said. “Oh, it’s good. It feels really good.”

Suddenly, he submerged again. He’d been facing me when he went under, so there was only one direction for him to go.

“Wait!” I said.

And then I felt him down below, brushing against me. At least I thought it was him. It could have been some kind of lake creature, which I wouldn’t necessarily have objected to, because then it would have been the creature, and not Web, that had felt me
there.

Web surfaced again, behind me
now.
“Hmmmrnmm!” he said. “I’d
say
you think the water feels good, huh?”

Okay, I thought. This was no innocent after-hours swim. Web was hitting on me!

I’d waited my whole life for this moment. I wasn’t going to screw it up, not again.

I paddled around to face him. “Sure does,” I said. “How does the water make
you
feel?”

He grinned, and the moon glistened in his eves. “Pretty good. Pretty damn good.”

Was this really happening? Was I really doing the whole skinny-dipping/weird flirtatious thing with Web Bastian?

“It almost feels like there’s someone touching me,” I said. “Down there.”

He floated closer. “I feel that too, man.”

“Do you?”

“Yeahhh,” he whispered. “And it feels
soooo
good.” He was less than two feet from me now. The water was lapping at my neck, and I could feel his breath on my face, even wetter than the lake.

He floated closer still—a foot away. We were almost bumping chests.

And that’s when I finally remembered something I had momentarily forgotten: whether Web was gay or not, he was now the boyfriend of my best friend!

“Wait!” I said suddenly. “What about Min?” Web ignored me, just leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.

Chapter Ten

So Web was kissing me, and it’s not like I could not kiss him back. That would have been rude. Yes, he was seeing my best friend, so on one level this wasn’t right. But I’d made myself a vow that I wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass me by. Remember? Scarlett O’Hara? Raised fist? And this was the Fort Knox of golden opportunities. So breaking that kiss wouldn’t have been right either—right?

I was tingling all over. I could feel every single nerve ending in my entire body, and each one was on red alert (some more alerted than others!).

We were still kissing when I felt his arms slip around me, exploring, but also drawing me close, sucking me in. I’d been seduced by a merman or an octopus, and Min or no Min, I was powerless to escape.

Suddenly, my body was pressing against his, slick and warm and hard, and that’s when I
real/y
knew we were skinny-dipping. There was absolutely nothing coming between Web and me now.

And then he ducked under the water again. Only this time, he did more than brush me with his hand.

* * * * *

Later, the guilt set in. It wasn’t that I had done anything unsafe, because I hadn’t (and wouldn’t!). Maybe it was a little bit about the fact that I’d done what I’d done with a guy I barely knew. I wasn’t the kind of person who did stuff like that, was I?

But mostly it was Min. It was that I’d done what I’d done with a guy who was the boyfriend of one of my best friends. And as much as I’d pretended at the time that I’d been powerless, I wasn’t really.

“What is it?” Web asked as he lolled in the shallow water where the lake met the beach.

I was sitting upright in the water. It wasn’t cold exactly, but I shivered anyway.

I looked over at him. “Min.”

“What about her?”

“Well, aren’t you with her?”

“Who told you that?”

“She did!”

Web shook his head and leaned back in the water, his
thing
floating up between his legs. “Nah. We’re just friends.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” he said. “What makes you think we’re together?”

“Because I saw you!” I started to say. Then I realized, Oops! I couldn’t tell him that I had seen them skinny-dipping, because then I would have to admit that I’d been spying.

“Saw me what?” Web said. I could see the smirk on his lips, even in the dark.

“Together,” I finished. “I saw you together.”

“Well, sure. Can’t friends spend time together?”

Could what he was saying be true? They
could
have gone skinny-dipping as friends, especially if Web was gay. But if Min knew he was gay, why hadn’t she told me?

“So you’re gay?” I asked.

Web floated in the gentle ripples, splayed out like a cologne model in some glossy magazine. “That was hot,” he said, eyes lasering into me. “You think that was hot?”

“I guess,” I said, sinking deeper into the water and doing my best to avoid his gaze.

Web sat upright. “Come here.”

“What? No, I don’t think—”

But then the octopus of Lake Serenity was on the move again. And once again, I was powerless to escape.

* * * * *

The next day, Monday, we started a new counselor rotation. This time, in the morning I had archery duty with Min. Fortunately, we had an adult instructor, so Min and I didn’t have to do much except make sure the kids didn’t nock their bows the wrong way, or shoot each other.

When I first saw Min, I said, really excitedly, “Hey!” I know Web had told me that he and Min weren’t together, but I didn’t entirely believe it. Plus when we’d fooled around, Web hadn’t yet told me about him and Min not being boyfriend and girlfriend. So technically, I’d betrayed one of my best friends whether they were together or not. Anyway, I felt guilty around Min, which is why I was acting so enthusiastic about seeing her now.

“Oh, hi,” she said. She didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about seeing me, which I guess made sense since she didn’t have anything to feel guilty about.

I wanted to tell her what had happened with Web. After all, if they were just friends like he’d said, what difference would it make? But instead, I said, “How’d it go on Parent Visitation Day?”

“Not bad,” she said. “I think it was a little weird for my kids to be reminded of their other lives. I kind of think most of them want to forget about that.”

“Yeah?” I said. “I thought the exact same thing.”

“Speaking of which, Mimi’s mom brought her a Game Boy. The sound is driving me crazy!”

We went on like that, with both of us talking about whatever had been going on in each of our lives. Everything, that is, except Web Bastian.

* * * * *

Then there were my kids. They still hadn’t forgiven me for the gift shop incident. Which meant that unless I figured out some way to reconnect with them, I’d be picking burrs out of my underwear until the end of the session.

That afternoon, in my free time before dinner, I looked around for Web but never did find him. As I searched, I tried to think of some way to get back into my kids’ good graces.

I was walking from the lodge to my cabin when I suddenly had the perfect answer.

* * * * *

It was almost eleven o’clock when I woke my kids up from their sleep.

“Huh?” Blake said, confused. “What’s happening?”

“Shhh,” I said. “Don’t talk. Everything’s fine. Everyone just get dressed. And don’t forget your flashlights.”

If this had been a group of adults, or even a group of teenagers, they would have complained that I’d woken them up in the middle of the night. But not one of my kids complained, and I knew it was because there is nothing like doing something out of the ordinary to get the attention of a ten-year-old boy.

Once they were dressed, I led them out into the summer night.

“Where are we going?” Julian said, still a little groggy.

“You’ll see,” I said. “Just follow me. But be very quiet. Keep your flashlights turned off until we’re away from the camp grounds. And if we run into any other counselors, we may have to lie low for a second, okay?”

For the record, I’d told the other counselors that I had something planned and not to worry if anyone found us missing in the middle of the night. But I knew my kids would be more excited if they thought we were doing something
against the rules
(for a ten-year-old boy, the only thing better than something out of the ordinary is when that something is also against the rules). And it was working. None of my
kids were groggy now.

We walked silently across the camp grounds to the trailhead of the Waterfront Trail. It led south toward Kepler’s Homestead, the abandoned cabin where we’d witnessed the smoke of that forest fire across the lake.

Otto was waiting for us at the trailhead.

“It’s okay,” I said to my kids. “He’s with us.”

For safety reasons, I’d needed another counselor to help with what I had in mind. So I’d asked Otto and told him to meet us here. But I hadn’t given him any details about what I had planned.

“Okay,” I said to the kids, starting down the Waterfront Trail. “Flashlights on. Let’s go.”

“A hike?” Kwame said. “We’re going on a
hike
in the middle of the night?”

“Not a hike exactly,” I said. “You’ll see. Just follow me.” My kids did follow, walking behind me in perfect single file, and no one pestered me with questions, not even Ian.

We marched onward in the dark for about thirty minutes, with me leading and Otto bringing up the rear. We made it all the way to Kepler’s Homestead. But we didn’t stop there. And a few minutes later, we came to a giant tree along the left side of the trail.

This was my marker. I’d planned this whole expedition earlier in the day, and I remembered this tree be cause some of the bark was loose and big strips of it had fallen off. (Only now, in the middle of the night, did I think to wonder
why
the bark was loose: maybe it was because a bear had been sharpening his claws on it!)

I turned away from the tree, toward the undergrowth on the right side of the trail.

“Here,” I said, pointing my flashlight into the woods. “In here. But this part gets tricky, so I want you to follow me
very
closely. Walk right in my footsteps. If you don’t, I promise that you’ll really regret it.”

No one said anything, not even Ian. But I could tell that if they didn’t find out what was up soon, their curiosity was going to cause them to burst open like seedpods on a Scotch broom plant. Even Otto seemed pretty darn intrigued.

I led everyone twenty or so yards off the trail, into a small clearing. I stopped at last.

“Okay,” I said. “Gather in a circle and turn off your flashlights.”

Right away, the kids and Otto assembled around mc. It took them a little longer to turn off their flashlights, but they did. The stars were blocked by the canopy overhead, so the forest fell into total darkness. (I had planned all this in my mind, hut even I hadn’t expected it to be so incredibly
black.)

I didn’t say anything for a second, just let everyone absorb the sounds and smells of the night. Finally, I pulled a candle out of my back pocket and lit it with a lighter.

The darkness sprang back from us like vampires from a crucifix. Truthfully, even I was glad to have some light again.

“We’re gathered here,” I said softly, “for a very important purpose. Now I promise not to hurt you, or make you do anything embarrassing, but before we go any further, I want you all to promise me that you’ll never ever tell another person what you’re about to hear.”

I figured I should go right for the alpha wolf, so I looked at Ian and said, “Well?”

I could tell that he, like everyone else, was dying to know what this was all about. So he nodded yes. A split second later, all the other kids nodded too. Even Otto nodded, which was perfect, because it meant he was taking this just as seriously as the kids.

“Okay,” I said into the candle. “Do you all remember the story I told you about Rainbow Crow? And about how the Creator told Rainbow Crow that his new black feathers and his coarse caw were really special gifts?”

Everyone nodded again.

“Well, there’s more to the story,” I said. “Because those things—black feathers and a ragged voice—didn’t always seem like gifts to Rainbow Crow. After a while, the other animals forgot how Rainbow Crow had brought them fire, and they began to laugh and tease the bird. They called him ugly and a freak, and they misjudged him, and sometimes Rainbow Crow felt like he was all alone in the world.” The story I was telling now wasn’t part of the Native American legend I’d read about. I’d made it up earlier that day. But I figured I was keeping with the spirit of the original story.

“But Rainbow Crow wasn’t alone,” I continued. “There were other animals who were teased for looking or acting different too. Like the stinky skunk.” My kids tittered. “And the ugly turkey. And the blind mole. So Rainbow Crow asked those other animals to join him in a secret meeting in the woods, just like this one. But he wanted it to be a private meeting, so they met in a place where no one would ever go. Does anyone know where that was?”

No one knew.

“Look around you,” I said. “What are those plants?”

Everyone squinted into the shadows around us, but no one said anything for a second. Then Zach said, “Is it poison oak?”

“Yup,” I said. “Rainbow Crow and his friends met at night in the middle of a patch of poison oak, because they knew no animal would come upon them there. And they so enjoyed themselves that night that they decided to form a secret society, which they called the Order of the Poison Oak. Then, if anyone ever overheard them talking about it, no one would ever ask to join. Because who would want to be a member of a group called the Order of the Poison Oak? But the name was misleading, because the Order of the Poison Oak was a very special group, and the members all had magic powers. Rainbow Crow had the gift of disguise. Skunk had the gift of his stink spray. Turkey had the gift of speed. And Mole had the gift of digging.”

I paused a moment, then said, as dramatically as I could, “And tonight I brought you here to induct all of you into the Order of the Poison Oak too.” Quietly, I added, “‘Induct’ means to admit someone as a member of a group.”

There was another silence. Then Willy piped up, saying, “But how can we be members? We don’t have magic powers.” (For the record, this was
exactly
the question I’d wanted someone to ask!)

I smiled. “But that’s just it. You
do
have magic powers. And it’s because of your powers, and the fact that you guys know what it’s like to be teased and misjudged, that you’re all perfect inductees for the Order of the Poison Oak.”

“What powers?” Ian said, but he wasn’t being a jerk about it. He just really wanted to know.

“Do you guys know what a scar is?” I asked.

“It’s what happens when you get burned,” Trevor said.

“Not just burned,” I said, thinking of Julian with his acne. “If your skin gets damaged in any way, it grows back thicker and stronger than before, so it can’t be hurt again. But when someone has big scars or lots of little scars like you all do, it doesn’t just change that part of their skin. It changes all their skin. It makes
magic
skin. It becomes thicker all over. The longer you have scars, the thicker the rest of your skin becomes. It won’t be noticeable, and it doesn’t protect you from physical stuff, like getting cut with a knife. But it
does
protect you from words. And that means when someone says something nasty about you, calls you a freak, the words can’t get through that skin. It can’t hurt you underneath.”

I looked around in the candlelight; it flickered atmospherically.

“Some of you don’t believe me that you have magic skin,” I said. “So I’ll prove it to you. I want everyone to hold out a hand.”

Sure enough, they did. And I pulled some leaves out of my other back pocket.

“I have in my hand some poison oak leaves,” I said. “I’m going to give each of you one leaf.”

“But I thought you said that our scars won’t protect us from stuff like knives!” Kwame said.