Ch 1: Welcome to Camp
All Around the Campfire Ch 1: Welcome to Camp copyright 2011 comidacomida
Summer camp: it was something Russell dreaded. It was a punishment. As far as a way to spend a summer vacation, going as a junior camp councilor to an elementary school summer camp was not high on his list. His parents had insisted, of course-- they financed the whole program as part of their 'giving back to the community' image. Russell absolutely hated the idea of being surrounded by little kids but, then again, just about everything they made him do "for his own good" rarely sat well with him.
Rustles-After-Midnight had never been the ideal son his parents had wanted-- he was a little too independent and all too eager to throw out all their teachings and ignore everything they said; as far as they were concerned he tended to do everything in exactly the wrong way. Although he'd long-since come to understand that most of his misery stemmed from doing other than what they wanted, Russell took a certain masochistic glee in forcing their hand. Of course, at other times, when punishment was watching over little kids for six weeks when he could have been enjoying summer vacation before his senior year... well... even he was forced to admit that he ALMOST regretted not behaving.
"Hey, Russell... we're almost there." the driver said. Chip was a friend of his parents and, as far as Russell could figure out, had been running errands for them as long as he could remember. The cocker spaniel was on some kind of social assistance and didn't have a job, which gave him the kind of free time neither of Russell's parents had. It created an interesting dynamic between them.
"No need for the updates, Chip," the pit bull responded dryly, "It's like telling a man on death row that he has an hour left before the injection."
"Relax... it won't be that bad." Chip replied, glancing at him in the rear view mirror, "Your folks take really good care of the place, and I think they reserved a bungalow... your own shower and everything."
"Fan-fuckin-tastic." Russell snorted, gazing out of the window of the car; having a private bathroom at camp was like taking a luxury car out into the boonies-- his parents apparently arranged for both. Despite the fact that he was being punished, his parents NEVER let him go anywhere without the correct image, and that meant being surrounded with all the posh trappings of their lifestyle whether he wanted them or not.
"Six weeks and you'll be back home." Chip offered, attempting to cheer him up, but all Russell heard was 'six weeks'.
"First thing I'm doing when I get there is giving up the guest room." Russell chewed on his lip in frustration.
"Why's that?"
"If they want me to play camp councilor then I'll do it the way it's supposed to be done." the pit bull stated flatly, "I'm not looking for some candy coated experience."
"Ya know, Russell..." Chip glanced at him again, "I don't think they're trying to make things easy on you, I think they--"
"You can say that again." Russell cut him off, "Once everyone sees me skating by in my own cabin nobody's gonna take me serious."
"Remember..." Chip offered hesitantly, "...that whole 'proving yourself' obsession is what got you into this in the first place."
The pit bull scoffed, "Hey... nobody's ever gonna say that I'm soft cuz I'm a 'rich kid' ever again... especially not that Alsatian."
"You're lucky that his parents didn't press a lawsuit." the cocker spaniel commented.
"Yea..." Russell rolled his eyes, "god forbid Shelly and Price had to show up in court." he never referred to his parents as 'mom and dad'.
The pit bull didn't miss the fact that Chip stopped trying to offer any comments; it worked better for both of them that way. Russell had heard enough from his parents and he didn't need a repeat lecture from Chip. The rest of the drive on the back roads went quietly, and it was only a matter of time before Russell caught sight of two large wooden pillars, one on either side of the dirt road. A carved sign spanned the distance between the pillars a good fifteen feet above the road, proclaiming 'CAMP VICTORY'.
"Camp Victory." Russell huffed the name with a tone full of sarcasm, "Sounds like some kind of World War 2 memorial."
"The original owners were looking for an all inclusive name... something that wasn't Native American and wouldn't favor humans or Dogs." Chip explained.
"Seems like something one of Grandpa Harvard's business partners would have suggested." Russell scowled.
"Which?" Chip asked, "The name, or the co-species habitation?" the cocker spaniel veered off to the right, heading into a gravel parking lot.
"Both." Russell snorted.
Chip chuckled at that, "It DOES sound like they're trying too hard."
"Better than one of those stupid unpronounceable ones, I guess..." the pit bull shrugged, "or some stupid made-up word that sounds Native American... like Camp Lotta-Fun, or the Itsa-Paw Summer Camp."
The cocker spaniel laughed at that, "Maybe you should go into marketing... I'm sure your parents would like that."
"Fuck you, Chip." Russell stated good naturedly, "They already cropped my ears... I've had enough of them controlling my life."
"Yea... cropped ears ARE a pretty elitist statement, aren't they?" Chip glanced back at him.
"Yea." Russell scowled, "Kinda like showing up to summer camp in an $80,000 car and having your own private cabin."
"Hey... at least making friends won't be a problem." the cocker spaniel offered an encouraging smile.
Russell rolled his eyes, "Not the right kind of friends, Chip... you know I don't like fan clubs."
"All I'm saying is that it gets you a foot in the door..." the cocker spaniel called after him as Russell got out of the car, "...breaks the ice and all."
"The wrong foot in the door." the pit bull countered, "Anyway, I'm gonna go... got kids to deal with." and he slammed the door.
Chip rolled down the window, "They don't get here until Friday."
"You sure?"
"Yea." the cocker spaniel acknowledged, and the trunk popped open, "It's in the guide book... guess you haven't read it, huh?"
Russell gathered up his duffel bag, not missing the fact that the guide book was resting right on top of it. "No kids then?"
"Not for another two days." Chip acknowledged.
"Well thank god for small favors." the pit bull stated flatly.
"And remember... HAVE FUN!" the cocker spaniel laid it on even thicker.
Russell responded simply with a raised middle finger on his right paw. The pit bull didn't bother looking back; he heard Chip start the car up and pull back out of the gravel parking lot. For six weeks Russell was going to be on his own, surrounded by two dozen teens he didn't know, at at LEAST five times as many elementary school students-- kids and puppies both.
"Now where's the damn central lodge?" the pit bull asked to the empty air. He paused long enough to grab the guide book; he remembered something about there being a map on the inside of the back cover. Flipping to the final page, Russell was relieved to see that he was right. Glancing around, the pit bull identified the parking lot and what looked like a boat house. Looking ahead and to his left he was able to assume that the large open space between buildings was what they labeled as the 'staging area'. He closed the book and headed that direction; the central lodge was supposed to be right next to it.
"First order of business..." he reasoned, and went to find 'the guy in charge'.
Once Russell got to the central lodge and began asking questions, it wasn't difficult to get pointed to the head councilor. The 'guy in charge', as it turned out, wasn't a guy at all. The human woman was a little taller than Russell and probably around middle-age. She looked nothing like the pale, porcelain housewives he'd seen among the well-to-do, which was a bonus in his mind.
An easy smile crossed her lips; unlike most of the human women he'd seen, the red-head in front of him didn't appear to bother with lipstick. "Good morning!" her voice was enthusiastic and, despite Russell's sour mood, it almost got his tail moving, "You must be Rustles-After-Midnight." she offered him a huge smile, showing teeth just off-white enough that he realized she didn't bleach; he thought casually that it was a better look than the perceived perfection of chemical white.
"Who are you?" Russell hated when people knew his name and he didn't know theirs... which was far too common an occurrence.
"My name is Bethany Holcomb and I'm the managing director here." she explained easily, her voice light and almost musical. Something about the casual nature she used when offering up her title seemed alien to Russell. He realized it was probably because she knew he outranked her.
"Sure." he answered without commitment.
"And," she continued, apparently not bothered by his single word reply in the least, "Your mom and dad tell me that you're joining us here as a Junior Councilor." her smile faltered for only a half-second; she obviously had some concerns about that... which was fine with him because that meant they were on the same page.
"Guess so..." he shrugged, and added for good measure, "I'm a little too old to be a camper, aren't I?"
Her smile faded, "Russell," she said his name simply and without embellishment; the light tone of her initial greeting was gone, "I want camp to be a wonderful experience for EVERYONE who comes here." the human woman let out a sigh, "Camp Victory is supposed to be a place where nobody feels left out and every last person here, camper and counselor alike can have fun and enjoy themselves."
"You'll have to take a mulligan, lady," Russel snorted, "I'm not here by choice."
"Russell..." her tone was level and frank, "I CAN'T do anything to MAKE you have fun, but I can present opportunities. What you do with those opportunities is up to you."
"Maybe you should focus more of your energy on the campers and not me." he responded blandly.
Bethany took a deep breath and leveled her gaze at the pit bull, "If you're planning to mope about camp for the next six weeks then you and I will not get along very well. Believe me, Russell... I CAN find things for you to do." he knew immediately that she was not going to be a pushover... and he liked that idea. Despite the Managing Directors bubbly, easy-going introduction, she would make good on her threat.
"Well..." he gave her his best cocky grin, "this IS supposed to be a punishment."
A bemused smirk spread her lip, "Is it now?" and then the smile was gone, "Come with me, Russell... you have somewhere you need to be." Something about the casual way in which she said it almost made his tail want to tuck, and it didn't take him long to figure out why.
Directly outside the central lodge was a tall, thin-looking human with a ready-smile on his face. Russell would have guessed that the man was probably in his early 30s, but the fact that the guy's black hair was already thinning plus his sun-worn face made him look a lot older. "Russell," Bethany spoke in a casual voice, neither bubbly nor severe, "This is Mr. Martin and he's going to need some of your time this morning."
"So... what?" the pit bull questioned the man, "Are you the janitor? Grounds keeper? Are we going to go clear reeds out of the lake?"
"Mr. Martin is the Head Councilor here at Camp Victory, which means you'll be reporting to him." Bethany explained, then turned to the man, "I'm sure you've already heard about Russell?"
Mr. Martin's smile almost looked like a taunt to the pit bull, "Yes ma'am." the man acknowledged her question with the precision of a soldier confirming a commanding officer.
"Good." Bethany's face resumed its pure joy-of-life smile, "Then I'll leave you to it." she offered a parting wave, "Have fun, Russell!"
"Oh my gawd," Russell groaned, "Is she ALWAYS like that?"
"Always like what?" Mr. Martin questioned, heading off immediately. Uncertain of any better option, the pit bull followed.
"Where are we going?" the dog asked, not bothering to answer the Head Councilor's question.
"We're heading down to the track..." Mr. Martin replied, "it's a good thing you showed up; we had an uneven number of councilors."
"The track?" Russell countered dryly, "Like, for horse races?"
"Not exactly." the human responded with a grin, and that's when they crested a small hill and saw the track beyond.
It turned out to be a standard, run-of-the-mill track-and-field quarter-mile track. Russell saw that eleven teens were already gathered out in the field, seven humans and four dogs. As far as the pit bull could tell, they were divided into pairs, with a single human set aside out of the group. It was to this human that Mr. Martin brought Russell.
"Hey, Jon!" the Head Councilor hailed the teen.
The lone human turned to regard them, "Hello, Mr. Martin." the human greeted the Head Councilor before glancing at Russell, then back to the older human, "You found me a partner?" he sounded entirely too upbeat in the pit bull's opinion.
"This is Russell." Mr. Martin patted Russell on the shoulder, much to his chagrin, "He's joining us this year as a Junior Councilor."
"Cool." the teen smiled, his blue eyes glinting with far too much welcome for Russell to appreciate the situation, "So you've been here before, Russ?"
"It's Russell." the pit bull responded, taking an immediate dislike to the human.
"This is his first time at camp." Mr. Martin answered for him, providing another shoulder pat; Russell slipped away from the Head Councilor tactlessly with a shrug of his shoulder.
"So what's going on here?" the pit bull questioned, glancing around at the five teams gathered up, each partner securing a cord between his-or-her leg with that of their partner.
"Three legged race." Jon grinned, "Don't tell me you've never run a three-legged race before."
Russell slid his paw over his groin casually, "I usually take my time with my third leg... no need to race." he grinned when his crude comment earned him a frown from both humans.
"Mr. Martin--" Jon began, but the Head Councilor cut him off.
"Show Russell how to get ready and then take your positions on the track." Mr Martin answered simply, "You'll do fine." and he patted Jon on the shoulder.
"Kinda touchy-feel-y, isn't he?" Russell scowled after the Head Councilor.
"It's called 'making a connection'." Jon responded, pulling out two long lengths of cord and handed one to the pit bull.
"It's called 'asking for a lawsuit'." Russell responded and reluctantly accepted it from the human.
Jon moved closer and the pit bull resisted the urge to step back; he hated giving up ground. "Alright... we have two pieces of rope... I'm gonna put one at our ankles," kneeling down, the human placed his foot against Russell's and began tying the cord tightly, "and you should tie yours around our legs just above the knee."
"This is stupid." Russell objected, and stood casually as Jon got back up.
The human blinked calmly, and offered an encouraging smile, "Anything is stupid if you don't give it a chance." To Russell, the comment sounded like one of those self-help tapes his mother listened to.
"So..." the pit bull smirked, "If I don't give you a chance then you admit YOU'RE stupid?
"Funny." Jon replied, and took the cord from Russell, bending over to tie their legs together.
"Hey... watch your hands." Russell chided the human, "unless you wanna buy me dinner first." he grinned at his own wit.
Jon finished securing the rope then straightened back up without a retort; he was all business, "Alright... so let's head down to the track."
"I would," Russell responded flatly, "but we're tied together... and not in the good way."
The human ignored the remark, "Outside leg first, then inside leg," he continued talking as if the pit bull hadn't said anything; Russell was not happy about being ignored.
"I KNOW how to walk." Russell remarked dryly, and took a step... then immediately pitched forward because Jon hadn't moved his leg. "What the FUCK?!" the pit bull demanded, "You did that on purpose!"
The human, who had also fallen over due to the false start shot a glance at Russell, "No... we were supposed to start with the OUTSIDE leg and you stepped with the inside one."
It took Russell three tries and a risk that his face would be eternally stuck in a scowl but, eventually, he learned Jon's methods-- not that he was happy about it. Not only did Jon insist on a constant narration of "Outside-inside-outside-inside" but he also insisted that they put their arms around one another's shoulders, "To help moving together easier." the human noted.
As far as Russell was concerned, the preparation and the two rounds of races were nearly an hour of pure hell. The first match was complete idiocy of flailing limbs and tripping contestants; the Dog was relieved that Jon didn't drag him to the ground but he also realized that Jon was slowing him down. They won the second match, but the human connected to him ruined the moment by being far too happy about such a lame contest.
After another round of congratulations, Mr. Martin came by and cut the ropes holding each of the racing teams together; once they were separated Russell gave Jon a light shove away from him for good measure. The pit bull had never been so happy about being done with anything in his life and celebrated his newfound freedom by enjoying a much more mundane two-legged jog up to the lockers, leaving Jon talking with the Head Councilor. According to Mr. Martin they had an hour before the next event; at the very least Russell knew he'd be able to enjoy a nice hot shower... or, rather an almost-warm one.
Several other Junior Councilors came and went as Russell took his time, soaping up, washing off, then soaping up again. He leaned against the shower wall, letting the water cascade down over him and help ease the numerous muscles that were strained by the odd race, not to mention the stress of playing the stupid camp game. Mr. Martin had mentioned something about a three-legged race being a team exercise, but as far as Russell was concerned it was bull shit.
When Russell finally turned off the water he was alone in the showers. Stretching and letting out a contented sigh, the pit bull headed back to the lockers, idly scratching his rump.
"Classy." Jon noted, passing by him into the shower.
"If it itches I scratch it." Russell replied, feeling his fur stand up on end in response to the human's comment. The pit bull began drying off but the activity did nothing to make his hackles lower; who did that Jon-kid thing he was? Knowing what he'd have to do, Russell wrapped his towel around his waist and returned to the shower stalls where the human teen was just turning off the water.
"You must be one of those 'lifers'." Russell stated.
"Excuse me?" Jon responded, turning around to face him.
"A 'lifer'... so obsessed with camp that you live it and breathe it." The pit bull casually glanced down the human's body, "Didn't know humans had sheaths." Russell stated flatly, "You some kinda freak?"
Jon covered himself, "What?" he asked, "No, that's not a sheath, it's foresk--"
"Whatever." Russell answered, "I don't care." the pit bull poked Jon in the chest with a finger, "I don't need your help figuring out this camp stuff... it's all just stupid crap anyway." and, with that, he returned to his locker, confident that he wouldn't have to deal with Jon ever again.