summer camp

Five

 No matter how much Henry and Richie hated camp, it went on.

Two days had passed. Henry skipped on all of the "camp activities," only attending lunch and dinner, considering how he woke up way too late to show up to breakfast. It didn't matter if the camp leaders tried to wake everyone up at the beginning of the day, because Henry slept right through it. He was a heavy sleeper, and he knew that even if he wanted to wake up at 5 AM in the fucking morning, he wouldn't be able to. This camp was more of a "fun camp" that bright-smiling parents sent their kids to in hopes they would have fun. It didn't make sense why they sent him here if he was such a juvenile delinquent and his only other option was jail, but he wasn't complaining. If Henry was capable of making friends, this would be less of a punishment and more of an escape from his father, although he was grateful to be away from him too. Henry might've made friends at the beginning of camp too, if he wasn't cursed with two of the most unlikeable people in the world as cabin mates.

On his second day, however, he found two new ways to entertain himself aside from sulking in bed and clamping his hands over his ears every time he heard the shrill giggles from the little fat boy that Richie had such a fun time doing stupid impressions for. The first new thing Henry did was look through Richie's bag. Nothing too abnormal at first, but smuggled inside a pair of socks, he found it- two boxes of cigarettes and a lighter. Probably enough to last either of them a whole month. Henry took one box and the lighter, putting them in his own bag for later, although he hadn't looked through all of the stuff Clarissa put in there either. Another thing he found in Richie's bag was a notebook. Pencils, too. Inside the notebook were two drawings- he could make out the first drawing to be Beverly Marsh, the ginger girl he probably screwed around with back in Derry, but the second one was of a guy. It wasn't finished yet, so Henry couldn't make out who it was, but he thought it was pretty stupid anyway.

The second way he passed time was from something he found in his own bag. A book, and a packet of questions he got from his english teacher last year. Originally, Henry decided he wasn't going to do any of his summer reading, because he didn't care if he failed. But it was a book, and even though he didn't like reading, anything was better than laying underneath his covers and wishing he was somewhere in the woods hanging out with Vic and Belch.

Clarissa hadn't given him a pencil, but it wasn't like he was going to fill out the packet of questions anyway. He was going to read the book, even if it was the worst thing written in all of history. It was called The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and Henry wasn't psyched to be reading something that had the word "flower" in the title, but again- when you're bored out of your skull, you succumb to crazy things.

Henry hadn't even gotten through the fourth page when someone came into the room, pausing in the doorway and looking at Henry. It was Richie, smiling, his legs caked in mud. "I didn't know you could read," he snickered, before darting into the bathroom and locking the door to avoid whatever beating came after that remark.

"Fuck off," he muttered, glancing back down at his book and continuing to read. He wasn't going to hurt Richie when he came out. Richie would rat on him, and he would be sent back home and thrown into prison for whatever heinous thing he and his buddies did back home. But would it be worse? He would most likely be with his friends, but he wasn't sure how long his sentence would be if he chose jail instead.

Richie opened the bathroom door and stood in the doorway, freshly showered and in a new set of clothes. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at Henry for a bit. Henry wasn't sure what his motive was. "I don't think, um... you'll like that book," Richie spoke up, taking a few brave steps forward.

Henry looked up from the pages, annoyed yet intrigued at why he wouldn't like a book about some stupid guy named Charlie. What could be so terrible about it, aside from how painfully boring it was? "Enlighten me," he said stiffly, sitting up straight on the bed.

This must have intimidated Richie, because he took a step back. "Oh, well, I just don't think it... lines up with your political views. That's all." He took one last look at Henry before leaving the cabin again. Henry figured it was about time for lunch. That's where Richie was going. He was not going to join them today.

He scoffed and read the next two pages, wondering just how this book didn't line up with his "political views."