Y O U T H (scomiche)

theatre

"Hey, can I trust you four to not set fire to the building if I go outside for five minutes?"

"Um, yeah."

"Great." Rod walked outside, closing the door behind him.

"You guys know he goes out there to smoke, right?" Bed-mate said. I've learned his name is Patrick.

"Yeah, you can smell it on the cargo shorts." T.J said.

"I wonder if he knows you have to wash them more than twice a year." Patrick replied.

The week went by both quickly and slowly. I tried not to think about Scott too much, which just made it worse, but I did imagine him listening to my cd in his car or something. I was very, very grateful that I could turn down phone calls from my parents any time they called. Rod didn't like that I turned them down for every single phone call, but brushed it off, kind of like every single thing Rod said ever.

"Hey, guys, I have an idea." I said, loud enough to draw them all away from their books.

"So, obviously, none of us are 'cured' of our gayness. Am I correct?" Everyone nodded "yes."

"But, like, our parents won't like that. I don't know about you guys, but my parents found out on accident that I'm very, very homo. So, when they come, we ball our eyes out apologizing. With my mom, if I apologize for being a disappointment, then she'll let it go and everything's alright."

"That's pretty good." Patrick said.

"I don't know how to fake cry, though." Russel added.

"You don't even need waterworks, you just have to play it up. Like, um, come here Russel." I climbed out from under my bed to the area in front of the TV. He followed suit and stood in front of me.

"So, say you're my mom. I'll run up to you 'cause I've missed you, just, oh-so much. I'll hug you so you won't see my face and just waay overplay it. I shall demonstrate." I stood a little away from him, and did as so.

"I'm so sorry, mom! I didn't mean any of it. I didn't know I was such a disappointment to you or Jesus Christ, but I understand now! I'll be a good son, it won't happen again. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I faked a good voice crack and a weep here and there. Once I finished, I released Russel from the hug and took a bow, while the other campers clapped for me.

"So, Patrick, earlier this week you said that your parents sent you here every year." T.J. said.

"Yeah. Since I was thirteen."

"Oh my god. I could barely handle a week of this."

"Yeah. It's especially barring when your bunkmates aren't in your situation, and you get scolded by every person you come across for being gay. I lie every year after the week is up, saying I've changed so my parents will get off my ass about it, but they still send me here. Just 'to be sure.' You guys made this year a good one, though. Thanks."

The door opened, and Rod walked in, smelling strongly of cigarettes.

"Alright, time for bed. Your parents are coming bright and early tomorrow, so breakfast is an hour early."

"Y'know, Rod, they sell nicotine gum at the gas station down the street." I said. He rolled his eyes at me and went to brush his teeth.

"Colgate doesn't scrub off cancer!" Russel yelled towards the sink. I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn't laugh too hard.

"Russel?" I heard Patrick, bed-mate, whisper loudly. He handed him a small piece of paper that Russel smiled at and tucked into the top part of his suitcase.