This is an old story I stumbled across the other day…so I decided to just pick up where I left off. ^_^ Don't think I'm a terrible writer just from the beginning…most of this chapter was written way back when and I've gotten a lot better since then! …I hope ^_^;;

The only warnings are for occasional language and m/m slash, shounen ai, yaoi, or whatever you want to call it. In other words, boy/boy relationship(s) (which you would already know if you'd read the summary…). Anyway, enjoy! ^_^

Welcome to Camp Hell:

Day 1, pt. 1: Score One for Mom

I didn't expect to make any friends that summer at camp. There was no way the guys at camp would accept me as one of their own, and the girls seemed to only be there to hang on the shoulders of the jocks and to work on their tans. All I wanted was a friend, but I wouldn't reject a girlfriend. But of course, I wasn't one of the "hot" guys--or so my sister says. I've come to the conclusion that "hot" defined in their terms means "a jock made of pure muscle that has nothing going for him except for a chance at the title of Mr. Universe." Bodybuilding, flexing muscles, and staring into the mirror for hours on end was something I don't ever plan on doing.

My name is Travis Wynters. My sister, mother, and I moved to Orange Grove a few weeks ago, so there were still boxes piled around the house. You might be wondering about my father. You see, as soon as he found out that mom was pregnant with a second kid (me), he skipped town, never to be heard from again. I used to pretend that he was a notorious bank robber/thief who was forced to leave his daughter, the pregnant love of his life, and his future with them when the law and bounty hunters tracked him down; he intended to return to them when he threw the cops off of his trail, but died trying. As you can see, I have an active imagination. I've faced facts since then. My old man was a bastard who never cared about my mom or my sister. He probably got with a street corner whore and ran off. God damned, mother fucking, cock sucking, chicken shit son of a mother fucking…sorry. Got a little carried away.

Anyway, there I stood at the Camp Helson registration desk, waiting to find out which of the hell-houses I'd be planted in.

"Next?" said the man. I stepped forward and awaited instructions from the short, pudgy man. "Name?" he asked, shoving his coke-bottle frames up the bridge of his nose with a fleshy finger.

"Travis. Travis Wynters. W-Y-N-T-E-R-S," I replied, shifting my duffle bag to my other shoulder.

He scribbled furiously on a sheet of paper, filling out my name, no doubt. "Age?" he said, shoving his glasses up his sweaty nose again.

"I'm fifteen, sir," I replied, beginning to look around Camp Hell (so dubbed by myself. I knew that I wasn't going to enjoy this.)

He stopped writing and look up at me, studying me carefully. I noticed this and looked down at him, scowling. "What?" I asked, a frustrated tone in my voice.

"You a boy or a girl, kid?" he asked me seriously.

I looked at him, shell-shocked. "I'm a boy," I growled, positively seething.

"Alright, alright. No need to get so touchy," he muttered, scribbling on the paper again.

I crossed my arms, scowling. ~Am I a boy or a girl? Pah!~ Then again, I guess I couldn't blame him. I was sort of tall, but that was nothing to go by. My build was fairly effeminate, which was something I couldn't help. My clothes were entirely different from everyone else's. I felt so alienated here. My hair was longer than the rest of the guys' hair (not to mention dyed strangely. My hair was is blonde, but then I had dyed the tips of it blue. I liked it this way, but most people seemed to think I was strange. Oh well. Fuck them). My features were more fair, and my clothes more fitted to my build. Still, Mom was making me go through with it. She said that it would be good for me, and that I'd "make so many new friends." Feh.

"Young man, you're in White Crow," he said, handing me a few papers.
I stared down at them blankly.

"Uh...where exactly is that?" I said, slowly taking the papers from the man and picking up my duffle bag.

"Here, Blake will show you," the man said, pointing at a boy just getting his papers in the line next to me. He was wearing what looked like a football jersey. His hair was shaved close to his head--a buzz cut. This guy was obviously a grade-A jock. "Blake was in White Crow last year." The man then leaned over and tapped the jock on a beefy shoulder. He pointed at me and muttered something to the jock. The jock stared at me, looking me up and down. Scowling he turned back to the man, nodding reluctantly. They obviously thought that I couldn't hear them. They were wrong.

"Blake, I want you to take that boy over there to White Crow," the man had said, pointing to me.

"Him!?" Blake exclaimed, looking at me. He scanned over me before turning back and nodding.

"Thank you very much, Blake," the man said before sitting down. "Next?" he called out.

Blake turned to his group of jock friends behind him.

"Man, what a queer," one of them (Jock #2) said.

"You said it. Look at that hair! What does he dye it with? Kool-aid?" another (Jock #3) added, snickering.

"Where did he come from? Queers-ville?" the last one (Jock #4) added. This one was smaller than the rest.

Jock #1 (I think he was Blake) stretched and looked at Jock #4. "Hey, Scott, what cabin are you gonna be in?"

Scott replied, "I think they put me in White Crow this year."

Blake burst out laughing. "That means he'll be in your cabin!!" Scott just scowled at the rest of them as they all joined in on the laughter. Blake walked over to me, his face darkening.

"Come on, freak. Let's take you to your cage," Blake growled, storming off with me on his heels.

I knew that if I tried to pick a fight, it would result in me getting my ass beaten down, and then I'd be nothing but a grease spot. Oh well. It's nice to dream. I laughed lightly to myself as I imagined slowly beating his face into a pulp. I clenched a fist and smiled, savoring the vision in my head.

 "What is so funny!?" Blake growled, standing in front of a door labeled "White Crow."

"Nothing," I replied, grinning, as I sauntered into the cabin, bag slung over my shoulder.

*   *   *   *   *

Welcome to the Camp Hell get-together. Everyone tells their name, favorite color, band, food, etc. then everyone claps and everyone's happy and then everyone jumps off the cliff like the brain-dead little lemmings they are. I've heard so many pinks, purples, N'SYNCs, and Backstreet Boys I'm going to be violently ill. I'm the first when it comes to the guys. Go me. I stand up and clear my throat.

"I'm Travis Wynters." I half expect everyone to respond with a loud, overly cheery 'Hello, Travis!' like in an AA meeting. "My favorite color is…" I pause on this one. I consider saying pink just to see what happens. Oh well. I'll use my own. "Silver. I'm a fan of Pink Floyd, I like wolves, and I've got a soft spot for chocolate." I sit down, scowling. 'Sheep!' my mind screams.

"Who? Pink Floyd? What kind of queer band is that??" "Who likes silver?" "Wolves? Why not horses??"

"I'm Adam Thomas and my favorite color is blue…" Oh yes. It's going to be a long summer indeed.

*   *   *   *   *

When it comes time for the barbaric ritual known as choosing bunks, the weakest of the herd are given slim pickings. Since I'm the least liked, I'm that equivalent.

"Move it, freak!" one boy growled, shoving past me, claiming the top bunk near me as his own. I turned towards another, a feral growl coming. Finally I just claimed a bed in the corner no one seemed to want. It was fairly dark due the shot light bulb. Not my choice spot, but no one yelled at me. I crammed my things underneath it and left the cabin quickly.

*   *   *   *   *

People were running here and there, some with water guns. These people were being chased by counselors, who didn't seem to stand a chance of catching them. I got hit by a few stray "squirts" (more like total assaults, if you ask me) and was completely soaked. Well, my hair and shirt were, anyway.

I flopped down on a bench and made a face at the squishing sound I made. "Shit…" I grumbled.

"You know, they'd have your head if they heard you. The counselors, I mean," came a voice to my left. I turned to see a red-headed girl. She gave a coy smile. "I won't tell, though, of course."

"So my ass is safe?" I asked. She laughed.

"Yes, your ass is safe." I grinned slightly and pretended to give a relieved sigh. "I am Réz Komou," she said. "And you are?"

I looked over at her. "Travis Wynters," I said finally.

"Travis…" she said. She smiled. "I like it."

I gave her a strange look. Apparently she was the kind that was friendly to everyone. I hate people like that.

"I think you're scaring him," came a voice behind us. I turned to see a boy with brown hair and glasses standing by the tree behind us.

The girl laughed slightly and grinned at him. "I am not."

"Are, too," he replied, walking over to sit on the other bench.

Réz laughed again and turned to me. "Trav, this is Kier."

"Kieran," he corrected, extending his hand to me. "Kieran Laire."

I finally grasped his hand and shook it. "Travis Wynters."

"I heard," he replied simply, sitting back on the bench.

"So…" I began. "What do you do for fun around here?"

Kier pointed up. "The box tells all," he said, a sage look on his face. I stared at him strangely. Réz laughed, and Kier chuckled. "The P.A. system, Travis. Someone comes on over it and tells us what to do according to our cabins."

"Oh," I said stupidly. Now things made sense. I heard a crackle of static and looked up.

"See?" Kier asked. "The box speaks." He chuckled and leaned back on the bench.

"Attention all campers. It's pool time for all of you Indigo Cats, Cyan Horses, Green Snakes, and Yellow Tigers. For Crimson Roosters, White Crows, Violet Butterflies, Lavender Rabbits, Black Dragons, Blue Rams, Pink Parrots, and Beige Lambs, you have either time at the craft houses or the rifle or archery range. You have five minutes to get to your assigned stations, so hop to it! Have a nice day."

Have a nice day. The phrase that "magically" tied everything together and made everything better.

"Well, that's me," I heard Réz say. I looked over at her.

"Where are you going?" I asked. She grinned.

"I'm an Indigo Cat. Pool time, baby. Besides…Bret and Nicky are in Yellow Tiger, and I think Tommy's in Green Snake." Her grin broadened. "That means not only do I get to tan, but I get to watch hot guys while doing it—correction! Hot sweaty guys."

"Aw, honey, I'm hurt," Kier said. Réz smiled at him.

"Come on, baby, you know I still love you." She looked over at me and grinned before waving. "Catch you guys later!" she called. Kier stood up.

"So are you going to be joining Réz on her constant search for 'pool hotties,' or are you in another cabin?"

"I'm a White Crow," I replied, standing up as well, stretching. I turned and looked back at the bench. My shirt was still wet and, yes, there was a nice big water print where I'd been. I made a slightly frustrated sound. Kier chuckled.

"I'm in Black Dragon," he said simply, chuckling slightly when he realized what I was mad at. "So, arts and crafts, or do you want to kill something?" he said plainly. It took a moment for me to get what he meant. I laughed slightly when I did.

"Kill something. Bring on the furry woodland animals." He chuckled.

"We aim at paper targets."

"Damn…those aren't any fun…but they'll do," I replied with a slight grin.

"So, are we going to be snipers lying down in our little bunker or wild Sioux warriors bringing home dinner?" Once again, it took me awhile. Oh yeah…rifle or archery. Work, brain. Have you really shut down so fast since school got out? I could all but literally hear the replied "yes" echoing around in my empty skull.

"Ah…Sioux warriors sound good to me," I said with a grin.

"So you like the thought of seeing me in nothing but moccasins and buckskin pants, huh?" He grinned. "Wow, Travis, this is so sudden." I looked at him strangely. He sighed. "I was joking." Oh yeah…I remember what that is now. "Anyway, I'll take you to the range, okay?"

"Alright," I replied. Sounded simple enough.

"Good," he said with a grin. I didn't like that grin. And with that, he let out an Indian war whoop, grabbed my arm by the wrist, and took off. I ran as well to simply make sure he didn't pull me arm off or something.

Embarrassing as that situation seemed at first, I think I just may get to like it here.

Wow. Score one for Mom.

So what do you think? Good for a first chapter? Ah, anyway, review, please ^_^ It would really make my day ^_^ Eh…preferably nice reviews, but flame if you must…although I don't really see the point. I mean, if you don't agree with the whole slash thing or something else, three warnings out there, shouldn't have read. If you didn't like it, why waste your time reviewing? Ah, I'll shut up, now. Besides, if it's a flame because you didn't like it, I think I'd actually like those. I can either fix what's not good (unless it's the overall thing) or just laugh at you if you're the only person with that opinion ^_^

Oh, and by the way, I couldn't get the title up there to center, or my little asterisk things. I also have no clue where that little hyphen came from…anyway, if anyone knows how to fix this, please tell. Thanks! ^_^