Chapter Text
“I wouldn’t trade places with the boys for a million dollars. It’s way too hot,” Isadora said, entering the arts and crafts classroom, arms laden with plastic cups.
“I mean, I would, mostly because we’ll have to be there eventually. Also, like, a million dollars could be pretty useful,” Violet replied.
It was Monday morning, and Aster Cabin had just left. Duncan and Carmelita’s kids from Narcissus cabin were on their way over.
“So, Vi, what activity are you looking forward to most?” Isadora asked.
“Probably the water fight. Quigley and I started talking strategy, and we’re totally gonna decimate you guys. Also, are we doing nicknames already?”
“Totally, Vi.”
“Well, then, Izzy, get ready for me to say your name incessantly.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the least ‘Izzy’ person I’ve ever met. Izzy.”
Isadora laughed, remarking, “I’ve always felt more like a Dora, but I can’t get anyone to call me that.”
“And I will not break the mold. Maybe it can be like a soulmate test, where the first person who calls you Dora should be your partner for the rest of your life.”
“Yeah, I could definitely see—“ Isadora was cut off as the 4th and 5th graders entered the room. There were about twenty in all, and they all had yellow wristbands to mark their cabin.
“Hi everyone,” Violet began, “you can sit wherever you want.” The kids took their seats easily and quickly. Isadora went through roll call briefly, and then they began the lesson.
“Hello, Narcissus!” Isadora greeted. “I’m Isadora from Cornflower,” she paused to allow Violet to speak. “And I’m Violet from Aster.”
“We’re gonna be your arts and crafts counselors for the week,” Isadora continued. Violet took the kids through expectations for the activity, before they got started on day one’s project: watercolors.
Doing an indoor activity was fun: the kids had walls to keep them from running off, and there was no real danger of them cutting themselves on watercolor day. Mostly, Violet went around helping the kids with techniques while Isadora sat beside them and talked to them.
Outside, Quigley and Klaus were having much less fun. “It’s hot, and I’m bored,” Quigley complained.
“Stop whining. At least we don’t have to move.” The boys were sitting in two chairs by the pool. They weren’t even sitting in lifeguard chairs, because the lifeguards, Pip and Squeak Bellerophon, were hired by Lemony, and were actually trained to save drowning children. Klaus and Quigley were essentially unnecessary.
“I guess you’re right. By the time we’re heading field games, we’ll be wishing for swim duty.”
“You’ll find I’m always right, little one,” Klaus said in a deep British accent.
Quigley cracked up, his nose scrunching up as he laughed. “What? Is that a reference to something?”
“It might be, but I think I’m honestly just weird,” Klaus answered, smiling softly.
“Hey, I don’t care. I’m weird as hell. Like, I’m in the art club kind of weird.”
“That’s a good kind of weird. I’m just nerdy and have insomnia, which people like to ignore, cause I do really well in school and stuff. Like I’m in Latin Club, on the Debate team, I participate in Science Olympiad and the Readathon, and everyone thinks that that means that I’m really healthy, when it just means that I’m burnt out, and I have anxiety, which doesn’t help.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad kind of weird. It’s just someone being successful in some areas of life and bad at others. Like me. I’m good at being social with people I like or respect, but not if I dislike someone.” Quigley paused for a moment. “I also suck at chem.”
“It can be tricky. But that’s not to say I’m bad at it.”
“Oh my God, you are so full of yourself.”
“To be fair, I was brutally dumped about a month ago, so this is drastic improvement.”
“That’s depressing, man,” Quigley said, smiling.
“That’s depressing, man,” Klaus mocked, lowering his voice to a cartoonish pitch.
“God, I hate you,” Quigley told Klaus with a laugh. There is an odd occurrence that happens when you tell someone you hate them in jest. Often, it makes the two close friends, as it did for Klaus and Quigley, who continued to joke until the campers needed to get to lunch, and they needed to watch them.
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“Roger, we do not throw food.”
“Mr. Quigley, my dolly gotted sick.”
“Lou Ann, you’re a stupid face.”
“Jenny, you’re not my friend anymore.”
“Lewis, please chew with your mouth closed.”
“I miss my mommy, Ms. Violet. Really, really bad.”
Dinner with the Aster Cabin was chaos. Between breaking up food fights and arguments and actually talking to the kids, Violet and Quigley had their hands full with twenty-two children either wanting their attention, or doing something they should be paying attention to. Friday and Kevin, their CITs, were trying to help as best they could, but it was hard, as they were seen as less of authority figures.
Violet and Quigley sat opposite each other at the large circular table. Occasionally, the two would make eye contact when one of the kids said something funny. A second grader named Lacy, for example, loved to regale the exact details of her doll, who she had named Marionette, and her various maladies. Apparently, the doctors said that Marionette was going to die soon, which, as Lacy said, “Would be sad, but then I get to throw a party for her.”
One of the boys, a six year old named Jackson, was near tears due to homesickness. Violet tried to console him, but it was difficult to have her voice carry across the table, and she eventually delegated Quigley to the task as he was closer.
Klaus and Isadora were having similar issues with Cornflower Cabin. “Jared, that is not nice,” Isadora said to a small boy that had just said his friend was “full of doo-doo.”
“Where do we go when we die?” Klaus repeated, staring at a third grade girl with wide eyes. “Well, Rebecca, I don’t know. I haven’t died quite yet, and there’s no way to know for sure about something you haven’t done.”
Isadora and Klaus made eye contact. It was going to be a long six weeks.
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Getting the girls ready for bed proved to be easier than watching them at meals. After the bonfire, the little girls were sleepy, and most of them were rubbing their eyes with their knuckles. It was only then that Violet could memorize their names: Anna, Lou Ann, Vicky, Jenny, Lacy, Raegan, Fran, Maria, Tanya, Lily, and Jaime. She only got it after mixing up Anna and Lou Ann for a solid half hour. Friday then watched the girls as Violet doubled back to the female counselors’ cabin to change into her pajamas, a cerulean pinstripe set with a short sleeve button down and shorts.
Violet walked through the cabin to ensure lights were out at nine before going to the folding chairs between the girls and boys cabins to sit with Quigley.
“Hey,” he said, grinning warmly at her.
“Hi.”
“So, I think we should just address it— those kids are insane.”
“They’ve certainly allowed me to ascertain that I will not be having twenty two children.”
“Oh my God, can you imagine? It would be like this but twenty times worse cause it would be constant. No breaks or anything.”
“I know. I have crazy respect for people with that many kids. It’s like a Herculean feat.” Violet smiled and took in Quigley’s face. He was handsome, with sharp cheekbones, jet black hair, and wide blue eyes. His lips were a soft pink, and they were pulled tight against his teeth as he beamed at her. She glanced at his outfit, remarking, “Beetlejuice, huh?”
“What?” Quigley seemed confused for a moment before remembering that he was wearing Beetlejuice pajama pants. “Oh, yeah. It’s my favorite Halloween movie, although I don’t really save it for the season. My siblings and I are really into that stuff. Isadora is obsessed with Coraline, and Duncan’s favorite is Frankenweenie.”
“Beetlejuice is my favorite, too, although I can’t watch it too much. My baby sister is only seven, and I think she might be a bit young for most of the humor.”
“Oh, yeah. Can you imagine any of these kids with that movie?”
Violet grinned. “I personally think it’s right up Lacy’s alley.”
“You know, she reminds me of Isadora at that age.”
“Really?”
“Totally. Our relatives used to give Isadora Barbies all the time, and she would either have them act out a high school plot line on par with Euphoria, or have them all brutally murder each other. Or both.”
“I never got into dolls. Sunny likes them, though. She only has about four, but she likes to play family with them. She likes to make ‘normal families’ with the dolls.”
“Your family isn’t normal?” Quigley asked.
“Well, our parents got divorced two years ago. They didn’t split custody of the three of us, though. They split us up. I live with Mom full-time, Klaus lives with Dad full-time, and Sunny alternates every other month. If Klaus wasn’t in high school, I would barely know him by now.”
“That sucks.”
“I guess it’s not super abnormal, but it is for Sunny. She has to constantly cycle around, and it feels to her like she has two completely separate families that are irreconcilable with each other. I think she plays with the dolls to escape that.”
“Yeah. My family’s ultra normal. To a fault, I’d say. We’re this perfect, model family. We have millions of dollars, two parents sickeningly in love, and three attractive, matching children. It’s great, and I’m lucky, but it can also feel stifling sometimes. Like, we’ve been coming to this camp since we were seven, and it’s always the same. It’s great, because we don’t have to be polished while we’re here, but it’s also hard, because when we get back it’s back to photos and charity balls and prep school and Catechism classes.”
“Oh, you’re super rich too?”
“Yep.”
“Did Isadora have a debutante ball? I might have been there.”
“No. She opposed to it so vehemently that we got her to do a charity based one instead. You know, service and shit. She agreed to do it since there was some merit she was being applauded for.”
“I wish I’d known about that. I felt ridiculous, getting dressed up essentially just to say, ‘I’m up for marriage now!’ I’m not, by the way. My longest relationship was three weeks.”
“Oh, you’re one of those people. I knew you had to have a flaw.”
“You haven’t noticed any of my flaws yet?” Violet asked, smiling.
Quigley looked at her for a second, her dark brown hair frizzy and wild from wind. Her cheeks were flushed— it was still around 85 degrees outside— and she had a thin sheen of sweat across her ivory skin. She didn’t have any makeup on, so her skin showed a few small blemishes, and the color was uneven and blueish at some parts.
“None at all. You’re intelligent, pretty, funny, and kind. I should’ve guessed that you have commitment issues. Makes sense, too, with divorced parents.”
“I am equally offended on behalf of all children of divorce and flattered. Besides, Klaus doesn’t have commitment issues. He has, like, reverse commitment issues.”
Quigley smiled. “I think those still count.” Violet looked at him again. His jaw, his hair, his smile, his eyes, and wanted to be closer to him with an intense pulling sensation she’d never felt before. She wanted to kiss him, or hold his hand, or simply be in his arms, held safe and strong.
Quigley felt a similar urge, and felt himself gravitating towards her. “Sunny doesn’t have commitment issues,” she said in a small voice.
“She might,” Quigley responded breathily. They leaned towards each other, as if to kiss, before Violet got a hold of herself, and slowly, slowly, fought against the rope pulling her towards him in her chest, and leaned in back in her chair. She leaned a bit too far, though, because she fell backwards.
“Vi!” Quigley exclaimed. She sat back up, and the two burst into laughter.
Klaus and Isadora sat about seventy feet away, glancing at their siblings with fond exasperation.
“Two weeks,” Isadora said.
“Three,” said Klaus.
“Deal. Twenty bucks?”
“Sure.” Klaus shook her hand, trying to ignore the tingle that went through his hand upon contact. She was really, really, really pretty.
“So. We’ve been sitting out here for what, ten minutes? And you haven’t yet to tell me your deepest, darkest secret. I simply will not stand for this kind of behavior.”
Klaus chuckled softly. “I don’t really have any deep, dark, secrets. I’m an open book.”
“I don’t buy it. For instance, my deep dark secret is that I killed a man.”
“What?” Klaus exclaimed, alarmed.
“He was getting a bit too friendly with Duncan, so I just stabbed him in the heart and peeled off his scalp as a trophy.”
Klaus stared at her for a second. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Isadora rolled her eyes. “Of course I am, idiot. Duncan needs to date more. I’m not gonna kill the only guy who’s shown interest. It’s cute that you actually thought that I would, though. In a twisted sort of way.”
“Hey, I have anxiety. Sometimes I’m just walking out of Starbucks on a beautiful spring day and suddenly feel a sense of menace stemming from absolutely nothing.”
“No way,” Isadora said. “I have anxiety too. It’s the worst.”
“Oh yeah, totally. And I think the movie on your shirt is what gave me mine.”
Isadora glanced down at her Coraline t-shirt.
“Really?”
“Definitely. I saw that when I was five or so, and I started being terrified by any noise or sound during the night, afraid the Beldam would take me away.” He waited for a beat. “I still have that problem every time I watch it.”
“I think it’s the coolest. I know I’ve found my soulmate when they’ll dress up as the black cat to my Coraline. We’ll be so freaking cool.”
“I’ve always had two couples costumes I’ve wanted to try. If I’m dating a guy, Apollo and Hyacinth, and if I’m dating a girl, Hades and Persephone.”
“Shut up. That is the coolest couple’s costume. You could go all artsy with it and make Persephone a wreath of dead flowers and give Hades like a chiffon robe, like really light material.”
“I know, right? It’s perfect. Fiona really wanted to be Emily and Victor from The Corpse Bride, though, and that’s my favorite movie, so I went along with it.”
“That’s a great movie, but honestly a terrible couple costume. Like, Victor spends the entire movie in love with Victoria. He never loves Emily romantically, he just feels for her.”
“I tried to explain that! Fiona just didn’t want to listen, I guess.”
Klaus and Isadora chatted for the rest of the time, about movies, exes, siblings, and diet soda before they went their separate ways to the counselor cabins.
When Duncan heard from his brother and Klaus about how much they were getting along with their cabin partners, he groaned. “The last few hours have been torture. Carmelita decided to show me the tap routine she’s been working on. For an hour. On loop.” Klaus and Quigley grimaced sympathetically as they slipped, at last, into bed.