Camp Lion (lams)

New place, new friends

John's pov
I looked out the window, watching the trees go by, making the whole world outside of the pickup truck a beautiful, green blur. Occasionally, the warm mid-day sun would peak through the leaves, just enough so that it wouldn't hurt my eyes. I hear the man beside me clear his throat roughly, rudely trying to get my attention. I break out of day dreaming and looked over to him, expecting a lecture.

"So, excited about your new camp?" My Uncle Maurice asked bitterly.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" I answered sarcastically.
"Don't worry, John. This place we're sending you to will fix you up. When they're done with you, you won't even be close to a fag." He said the word like it was poison on his tongue. Just people saying it made me wince. It hurt to know my family didn't accept me. This all started when I was around 10, and I'm 16 now. I sigh as I remember the day I came out to my father.
-Flashback-
"Dad, I need to tell you something."
"What's up, Jacky? Did you get a girlfriend yet?"
"Um, no dad."
"Ah, well, the time'll come. What did you have to tell me?"
I took a deep breath.
"Dad, I'm gay."
He froze in place for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"...Wow, you really had me there!" He laughed. "Good one Jack, ha!"
"No dad, it's not a joke, I-I really am gay."
He stood up from his chair, his huge frame stood over my small body.
"D-dad?" Before I could even comprehend what was going on, my dad whipped his hand across my face, hard. I whimpered as I looked at his face, once jokey and kind, now twisted with anger.
"I WILL NOT HAVE A FAGGOT IN MY HOUSE!" He yelled, making me flinch. I tried to scramble away, but his large arm caught me by the shirt first. He dragged me up to his room, and grabbed a belt lying on his bed. He yanked my shirt off, and whipped my back, making me cry in pain every time the leather belt came in contact with my skin. After 27, he stopped, leaving me on the floor bloody, light-headed, and crying.
-End flashback-

After that, my dad had sent me to therapy, church, and he beat me, but never again with the belt. I was forced to read the Bible over and over, but nothing helped. I didn't care whether my dad hated my sexuality, I just embraced it. Unfortunately, my dad realized nothing was changing, so he found this camp that "fixes" people like me, for example. I have no idea what to expect, but I'm not expecting anyone to like me. The only love I've ever known was my mother. She was so understanding and nice, and so accepting when I came out to her at 9 years old, almost a year before I made the mistake of coming out to my dad. She said she'd always love me no matter what I was.

But, she was killed by a drunk driver in a car accident months later. And not just any drunk man, but my father's friend, whom he payed for to get out of jail. My dad always had a problem with alcohol, but around my mother he was better. After she died, he came home night after night drunk, high, or both.

The truck hit a huge bump, making my uncle mutter curses under his breath. I snapped out of my day dreaming to see we were driving down a dead end road, surrounded by forest, finally reaching a very small parking lot with a wooden sign that read, 'Camp Lion'. As we came to a stop, I noticed a woman with gray and black hair was standing under it, grinning at us.

I opened the door, letting fresh forest air fill my lungs and replacing the pot smell of my uncle's truck. He dropped my suitcase at my feet, got into the truck, and pulled away without a goodbye of any sort. I turned to the lady, who frowned at the truck as it pulled away. She turned back to me, smiled, and picked up my suitcase and politely handed it to me.

"Hi, I'm Linda. Welcome to Camp Lion, but people here like to call it, 'Camp Pride'. Is this your first year here? I don't recognize you." She said, motioning me to follow her down the forest trail past the sign.
"Uhhh, yeah, I'm new. My name is John Laurens." I said, cautiously watching my surroundings.

"Well, nice to meet you John."
"You too. Wait, did you say pride camp? Er, camp pride?" I asked, confused. Why would a sexuality reform camp be called that?
"Oh, our campers thought it would be more fitting, plus they are very proud of their sexualities. They like to express themselves." She said smiling.
"Wait, what do you mean? Isn't this camp supposed to fix people's sexuality?" I asked. She gave me a startled look.
"Heavens, no! Here, we let people embrace their sexuality, not fix or avoid it." She said, looking at a clipboard. I feel a smile spread across my face.

My dad and uncle accidentally sent me to a pride camp. A pride camp! We reached the end of the forest trail, revealing a huge amount of land.
"Here's your key, schedule, and map of the campgrounds, don't be late for dinner. Have fun!" I waved her goodbye and looked at the map, which showed the camp had 25 log cabins and 2 other large buildings, the dining hall and the theatre. There was also an archery field, a kickball/baseball/softball field, horse stables, hiking/biking/horse back riding trails, arts and crafts, campfire sites, nurses offices, two large gardens, and a huge lake at the edge of the camp, where campers can go fishing, kayaking, and swimming.

Okay, this place is seriously awesome! I walk to the cabins, where I'll be staying from summer to fall. I find my cabin, No. 15. I stand outside the door for a good 5 minutes, hearing muffled voices from inside. Will they like me? Will they accept me? I knock on the door sheepishly, stepping back from the door ever so slightly. I hear more muffled noises and even a large bang! I reach for the knob when the door opened, a short boy around my age looking at me.

In his arms, he clutched a rainbow pillow, it had small white feathers all over it. For his tiny frame, he had a handsome face. Like, this boy was really cute. He had his dark hair tied in a slightly messy ponytail, and his eyes were dark chocolate brown with light dark circles under them, which I still somehow found really attractive. His lips were a rosy pink and soft looking. I resisted the urge to caress his cheekbone and softly pluck the feathers out of his hair as I felt myself blush.

"Erm, Alex, mon ami? You and this garçon have been staring at each other for quite awhile now..." I heard a voice with a thick French accent from inside the cabin.
"Yeah, tell me about it Laf." Another person said.
"Guys, shut up." The cute boy said playfully.
He cleared his throat, still blushing, and held out a hand and smiled.
"Alexander Hamilton." He said. I took his hand in mine and shook it, my blush darkening.
"John Laurens."