The Order of the Poison Oak

by Brent Hartinger

  Web laughed again. “Now you don’t just look serious—now you look shocked! Hey, it’s no big deal. It’s the way of the world. Guys need sex. You know I’m right.” He held a hand out toward me. “Now come on, let’s get each other off!”

  I took a step backward, away from him.

  “Oh, please!” he said. “It’s not like you’re Mr. Innocent!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “You knew Min and I were together when you let me put the moves on you.

  “I did not!”

  “Come on! You watched us.”

  This was something I hadn’t expected him to say. Web knew that I’d watched him and Min skinny-dip?

  “What?” I said lamely.

  “You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

  “No, I don’t! I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about!”

  But Web started laughing again, and that’s when I realized that the Order of the Poison Oak was something of a lie. Maybe I did have psychological scars, and maybe they had given me thick skin—just like Leo the Lion in that story that Web had told me about Hercules. But it hadn’t mattered, because Web, like Hercules, had found a way around my impenetrable skin. He had strangled me with his words and was now slicing me wide open with his laughter.

  * * * * *

  I had to find Min—to apologize, but also to have it out with her for telling Web about my being gay. Mostly, though, I needed someone to talk to about Web, and she was the closest thing to a friend I had left.

  I hurtled down the trail, back toward camp. In the darkness, I kept stumbling on roots and rocks. As much as I wanted to find Min, I wanted even more to get away from Web. I felt like some character in a movie trying to outrun the monster. (The smolder of those distant forest fires made things even creepier, which didn’t help.)

  Just as I reached the camp area, I ran smack into someone. I hit them so hard that we both fell over, into the bushes.

  “Oh, shit!” I said. “Sorry!”

  The person next to me on the ground groaned. They’d been carrying a flashlight, which I had somehow not seen, and it was lying near us in the leaves.

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  “Yeah,” said the person. “I think.” Otto.

  “Oh, man,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even see you!”

  “It’s okay,” he said, struggling upright, shaking his head. “Why were you running so fast?”

  For one brief second, I had forgotten what had happened back on the beach. Now I remembered.

  I started crying, right there in the undergrowth. Right in front of Otto and everything.

  “Russel?” he said. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  I tried to stop crying, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. It was a cloudburst of the face.

  “Here,” Otto said, trying to help me upright. “Let’s go wake up the nurse.”

  “No!” I said. I wiped my eyes on my T-shirt, even as they kept leaking tears. “I’m not hurt. It’s not the collision. It’s something else. Something that happened. The reason why I was running so fast.”

  “Oh.” He hesitated a second. “Well, you wanna tell me about it?”

  I did need to tell someone, and I wasn’t sure Min would want to see me right then even if I could find her in the dark.

  “Yeah,” I said to Otto.

  It was only then that I realized Web was probably right behind me on the trail. Even now, he was probably listening to me cry, and laughing.

  “But not here,” I said, wiping my eyes again. This time, they stayed dry. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

  * * * * *

  I led Otto to the boathouse. I figured Web would never look for me there, and it was far enough from the fire pit that the other counselors wouldn’t overhear us either.

  The lake seemed absolutely calm, but somehow I could still hear water lapping quietly against the pilings under the dock. Across the lake, the sky seemed less orange now, and I wondered if it was because the fires were dying down again.

  “It’s a long story,” I said to Otto. He was sitting on the edge of one of the rowboats, and I was pacing back and forth (being careful to avoid sparrow droppings). “Well, it’s not really that long. But it’s kind of surprising. It’s about me and Web. You see, I’m gay.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “What?” I said. But my surprise quickly turned to panic. “Wait! Are people talking about me?”

  “No,” Otto said. “It was last night. Those things you said about the Order of the Poison Oak. They were so beautiful, they made me cry. But afterward, I thought to myself, How could he know those things? You’re not a burn survivor.”

  “So how could I be a member of the Order of the Poison Oak?”

  He nodded. “Right. But as soon as I thought about it, I knew the answer.”

  First Ian, now Otto. I guess I’d been more revealing than I’d thought last night in the woods.

  “So you’re okay with it?” I asked him.

  “That you’re gay? Sure. I mean, I have gay friends. Well, one.”

  So I told him the whole convoluted story of me and Web. I may have left out the part about my spying on him and Min, but only because it slipped my mind at the time.

  “When I was done, he said, “Wow.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m such an idiot! How could anyone be such an idiot to fall for his lies?”

  “You’re not an idiot. Web’s hot.”

  “Well, so what? Just because someone is good-looking, that doesn’t mean everything they say is true!” I was so fired up about everything that had happened that I hadn’t quite heard what Otto said. It took me a second to realize that Otto, this presumably straight guy, had just commented on how he thought another guy was hot.

  “Wait,” I said. “You think Web is hot?” Maybe this wasn’t any big deal. But maybe it was.

  Otto stood up and walked to the edge of one of the boat slips, then looked out across the lake. “I guess.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I guess I’m saying what you think I’m saying.”

  “You’re—?”

  He nodded. “I mean, I guess.”

  “But—”

  “What?”

  I had been going to say, But you’re a burn survivor, which would have been remarkably stupid, even for me.

  So instead, I said, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “You didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Good point.”

  Ironically, talking to Otto really was making me feel better. Just not for the reasons I thought it would.

  “Was Web your first?” Otto asked.

  “What? Oh, no. Second.” I looked at him. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend? Is that the one gay person you know?” I wasn’t sure if I should have asked this or not, given his scars, which made the question seem weird.

  Otto shook his head. “Nah. My gay friend’s a girl. I’ve never been with anyone.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, at this point, I’d say you’re probably better off.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just had bad luck.” I stopped. This felt weird too, complaining about my love life when I’d hooked up with two guys and Otto had never even been with one.

  “Well, there is one guy,” Otto said.

  “Yeah? Here at camp?”

  Otto nodded, and that made me curious. There were only so many guys to go around. Five, in fact— at least among the counselors. And if Otto was one and Web and Gunnar and I were out, then who was left? A guy named Bill, who seemed pretty straight. And there was Ryan, one of the camp’s two burn survivor advisors. He was in his thirties, but he seemed nice enough.

  “Who is it?” I asked Otto.

  “Oh, God!” Otto said. “The timing is all wrong! This isn’t how I thought it would be. You’re all upset about Web and everything.”

  “Otto. Who is it?”

  And wi
th that, he stepped forward and kissed me. It was soft and rough at the same time, and I don’t just mean his skin. He was gentle and passionate at the same time too. He smelled like clean pajamas.

  Me? Otto liked me?

  Was this the night for surprises or what?

  Finally, he stepped back and watched my face. I felt like a thing of unpopped Jiffy Pop, with him waiting to see if anything would happen.

  “Me?” I said at last. “I’m the guy you like?”

  He turned away again. “I told you the timing was lousy! Oh, hell, it’s not about timing, is it? That was so stupid!” He started to leave. “Forget it. Forget I did that, okay? I’m sorry.”

  “Otto, wait.”

  He stopped but didn’t look at me. Now I could tell that he was embarrassed—even in the dark, in the flush of the faraway fires.

  “That was nice,” I said. “Really nice. It might even be my best kiss ever, because it came when I least expected it, but probably when I needed it most.”

  He peeked over at me. “Really? You’re not grossed out?”

  I smiled. That sounded like something I’d say after I kissed some guy. It just made me like Otto more.

  “I’m not grossed out,” I said.

  “So,” Otto said. “What do you wanna do now?” Subtle, this guy was not.

  “Can we talk for a while?”

  “Sure!”

  And so we did. But later, we may have kissed some more too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was really windy the next morning—the kind of blustery day when it seems like the whole world is being shaken up like a Boggle tray and it’s impossible to predict how everything wil1 end up.

  We didn’t have an all-camp activity that day. It was already Wednesday, and that first two-week session was ending on Saturday. So each cabin was given the last three afternoons to prepare a skit for the session’s wrap-up celebration, to take place that Friday night.

  For our skit, I’d decided to have us act out the story of Rainbow Crow (but only the actual Indian legend, not the part I’d made up about the Order of the Poison Oak). I was going to narrate, and the kids were going to dress up like the various animals and the Creator. I knew this was dicey as a camp skit for a couple of reasons. First, there was the whole “fire” issue: did I really want to tell the story of the birth of fire to a group of burn survivors? But the tale had gone over well with my kids, so I figured we should just go for it. I was more worried about the fact that we were doing an actual mini-play, not like the other cabins, which I knew would just be doing silly sketches making fun of Mr. Whittle. The skit I had planned did have plenty of humor (for example, when Rainbow Crow tried to get the Creator’s attention, he was going to sing the Rolling Stones’ “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction”). But—and maybe this was the gay boy “artiste” in me—I really wanted our skit to have an actual story, and a point too.

  As we worked on the costumes—and our cool fake fire torch!—I remembered something I’d been meaning to tell my kids.

  “I’m supposed to pick an Outstanding Camper,” I said to them. “Mr. Whittle told us counselors that at the beginning of the year. Each counselor has to pick the Outstanding Camper from his own cabin. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. But now that I’ve gotten to know you guys, I see how stupid it is. I like all you guys—even if your medicines do stink up the cabin at night.” At this, I smiled and winked. “Anyway, we ‘re a team, and I don’t want to single one of you out.” I didn’t say the rest of what I was thinking, which was that, in a way, I even loved these guys. It hadn’t been two weeks yet, but I felt like I knew everything about them—from Julian’s love of trading card games to the fact that Ian was always losing things (not just his flashlight!).

  “But I have to pick one of you,” I went on. “So I picked the guy who I think everyone will agree had the best attitude all session long, and who was probably the easiest to be around. I picked Trevor.”

  “Me?” Trevor said.

  “Sure,” I said. “And I don’t mean to act like it’s not any big deal. I really appreciate what a good guy you’ve been, and if anyone deserves this award, it’s you. I hope it makes your parents really proud. Anyway, I wanted you guys to know so there wouldn’t be any suspense on Friday.”

  Trevor didn’t say anything. But before I could ask how it made him feel, Mr. Whittle appeared from out of the trees. I knew he came around once a day for cabin inspection, but that was always during lunchtime. I’d never known him to come in the afternoon.

  “Hey, Mr. Whittle!” I said. “What can we do for you?”

  He nodded at my kids but didn’t really smile. “Russel,” he said. “I need to see you for a minute, okay?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said. I looked at my kids. “Just keeping working on the costumes. I’ll be right back.” Then I let Mr. Whittle lead me away from the others. “What’s up?” I said to him.

  “We just had a warning from a ranger,” he said. “The fires are moving closer, and they’re worried about them jumping the lake, what with the wind and all.” I glanced over at the water. I didn’t see any sign of fire on the opposite shore. And ironically, the smoky haze that had been hanging in the air for days now was gone—but that was probably only because it had been swept away by the wind. “There’s no immediate danger,” Mr. Whittle went on. “But we don’t want to take any chances. So we’re going to evacuate the camp, okay?”

  I looked back at Mr. Whittle. “Evacuate?”

  “It’s not as big a deal as it sounds. We’re going to move the kids into town, and we can all stay in the high school gymnasium until their parents come pick them up. We’re calling the parents now. All this really means is that we have to end the session a couple of days early.”

  “Oh,” I said. It’s a little embarrassing that my first thought was, Does this mean we won’t be able to do our skit about Rainbow Crow? But I didn’t say that to Mr. Whittle. Instead, I asked, “So what do I need to do?”

  “Get everyone packed up and ready to go. We want everyone on the buses by three o’clock, okay?”

  I nodded. “I can do that.”

  “But Russel.”

  I had already started to turn back to my kids, who I just knew were watching Mr. Whittle and me like hawks. “Yeah?”

  He lowered his voice. “As I said, there’s absolutely no danger. This is all just a precaution. But let’s not mention the fire to them, okay? I don’t want anyone getting scared. These kids especially. Let’s just tell them there’s a hurricane coming.”

  “A hurricane?” I said. “In the mountains?” It made sense to lie, these kids being burn survivors and all. But couldn’t we come up with a better lie than that?

  “Just do it, okay?”

  Mr. Whittle left to go tell the other counselors, and I returned to my kids. They were absolutely silent, with all eves on me, and I knew I’d been right about them watching Mr. Whittle and me.

  “It’s no big deal,” I explained to them. “But the camp session’s going to be ending a little earlier than usual. I guess there’s been a hurricane warning.” Then, before anyone could question that too closely, I went on to tell them that we had to go stay in the high school gymnasium for a night or two, until their parents came to pick them up. “But it’ll be fun at the gymnasium!” I said, trying to keep things light. “It’ll be like a big slumber party.

  “What about our skit?” Blake asked, and I don’t think I’d ever felt so close to a kid in my whole entire life.

  “Why don’t we bring the props and costumes with us into town?” I said. “I bet we’ll still get a chance to do the skit.”

  “When do we leave?” Zach said.

  “In an hour. But you won’t be coming back here again, so I need you all to go inside and get everything packed up.”

  * * * * *

  An hour later, my kids and I gathered with all the other cabins out on the marching field. Except I knew at a glance that someone was missing from my group—two kids
, in fact.

  “Where are Ian and Trevor?” I said to the others.

  No one said anything. My kids all stared at the grass at exactly the same time.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m going back to the cabin to get them. No one move until I get back.”

  “They’re not there,” Noah said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” I said. “Where are they?”

  Again, no one spoke.

  “Look,” I said. “I don’t have time for games. Where are they?”

  “They went down the trail,” Kwame said.

  “Trail?” I said. “What trail?”

  Zach pointed south. “That way.”

  The Waterfront Trail? But that led to the narrowest part of the lake. If the fires were going to use the winds to jump the lake anywhere, that’s where it would be!

  “What?” I said, feeling panic grip me like a wrench around a bolt. “Why?”

  “They didn’t say,” Willy said. “But Ian said they’d be back soon.”

  This was a disaster! Camp Serenity was being threatened by forest fires, and now two of my kids— burn survivors, no less!—were heading right into the potential danger zone! Why in the world would they do that?

  Suddenly, I knew. Which meant I also knew where Trevor and Ian were going.

  As I searched for Mr. Whittle, I forced myself to relax. Ian and Trevor were in big trouble, but they weren’t in any real danger. They couldn’t be. Mr. Whittle had said there wasn’t any danger—that the evacuation was just a precaution.

  But what if he’d been lying to me? What if the fire had already jumped the lake and that was why it was so important to get the kids away quickly? He certainly hadn’t hesitated when it came to lying to the kids!

  I couldn’t find Mr. Whittle or any other adults, but I didn’t have time to search the entire camp. I needed to get to Ian and Trevor. I knew where they were going, and they couldn’t have gone too far down the trail by now. If I ran, I was pretty sure I could catch up with them.

  I found Gunnar and Min, who had gathered their kids out on the marching field too.

  “Two of my kids went down the Waterfront Trail!” I said, practically a shout. “I know where they’re going, but I can’t find Mr. Whittle, so I need your help!”