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So what if they didn’t like him? No one really liked him except his mother.

Even his dad didn’t really have time for him, had no real use for him.

Jovian’s dad had dreamed of having a boy that liked sports and…

girls. The pictures of Jovian in his nursery, a nursery decorated in baseballs, his dad’s favorite sports team banners.

From the first that his dad knew he was gay, which was young, he’d kept his distance.

All of Jovian’s accomplishments celebrated with a thin smile, but no real affection.

“Well, fuck him and fuck all of them,” he said to himself as a weird pep talk. It was one he’d given himself a thousand times. “Fuck all of them! They don’t have any power over me.”

He got up and started back to the camp, passing a couple of others along the way. As they smiled at him, he turned his head away, refusing to be taken in by one more fake kindness.

Alan hadn’t made it back yet, so he sat on the blanket, his stomach already growling.

After getting the apple from his pack, he knew for a fact that wouldn’t keep him going for long.

They were given things they could have on them, and those with the fruit would need to forage first, or something like that.

He got up and casually looked under trees and around big rocks, but he saw not one white paper bag. Casually munching his apple, he was glad he’d gotten the fruit, as it had taken some of his thirst.

The one thing he’d been wrong about was that there would be little white paper bags all over the place. He wasn’t looking hard, but he hadn’t figured he’d have to.

After slinking back his blanket, he saw Alan had started a fire. “Hey,” he said with no enthusiasm.

“I know you don’t like me, so don’t pretend.”

Alan laughed dryly. “I don’t dislike you either, Jovian. I’m…ambivalent.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure you’re going to hate me soon enough.” Jovian then asked, “Did you find any bags?”

“Not one. I saw that one of the others had, but they’re not just lying around easy to find, like you thought.”

“I guessed that.”

“I’ve still got water, if you need it.”

He had thrown the apple core into the weeds, and his thirst sated for the moment. “I’m okay right now.”

“Cool. Listen, I’m going to get more firewood and look a little more. Can you keep the fire going?”

“How do I do that?”

Staring at him like he’d grown another head, Alan asked, “Did you hear anything Coach said?”

“No, okay! I didn’t!”

After holding up both hands to him, Alan said, “Okay, don’t get mad.”

“Sorry. I’m…I’ve felt attacked since I got to camp.”

“Really? Everyone is so nice.”

Scoffing, Jovian said, “To you, maybe. No one is every very nice to me.”

Alan sat on the log he’d pulled near the fire and asked cautiously, “Jovian, now, don’t take this wrong, but are people mean to you because you’re not all that friendly with them?”

After a shrug, he asked, “Why should I be? I will not be nice to people that aren’t nice to me. They’re all jealous of me.”

Alan nodded a little as he sighed. “Right. Well, maybe just try to be…a little nicer. See if maybe, just maybe, people will take kindlier to you.”

“Take kindly? What are you from the eighteenth century?”

“That saying is more nineteenth century, but there is a perfect example. Did you have to say that, and in the tone you said it?”

Not seeing a thing wrong with what he’d said, Jovian asked, “What tone?”

“Never mind. I’m gonna head to get more wood. All you have to do is set more wood on the fire to keep it going. Not a lot. We don’t want to use all our wood before tonight, when we really need it.”

“I think I can handle it,” Jovian replied snidely, and watched Alan walk off, flipping him the bird as soon as he was gone.

“These people think they’re so good and kind. Well, so what?”

The bottle of water that Alan had offered sat on the rock near Alan’s backpack. He’d drank all his like he’d have a ton more, but there weren’t white bags behind every stone.

The faces of those people, all the people at the camp, every single time he was being himself…

A rogue tear escaped his eye and trickled down his face, letting him know things were not fine.

As much as he tried to convince himself they were.

The people at the camp were nice to him.

And he’d…said mean things, ignored them, tried to get someone to fuck him, when all Dixon wanted was to teach him how to survive.

More tears came as he slapped at them, and he pulled Alan’s backpack over, ready to toss it in the fire, knowing the only way to stop hurting was to hurt someone else.

Ci had taught him that long ago. If a guy dumps you, jump on the next one fast to get over the asshole.

If someone hurt you, hurt them back harder.

Well, taking his blanket and whatever small bit of food he had been given, that would hurt him.

But Alan hadn’t really hurt him. Alan had been nothing but nice to him.

The tears kept coming, but they stopped completely when the backpack was yanked from his grasp and a raspy, deep voice accused, “You’re not stealing his stuff on my watch.”