Mandy tugs at his sleeves, trying to pull them down over his scarred hands. He looks like he’s crawling inside himself, like a turtle.
McCormick claps his hands once. “Alright, campers. Welcome to the first day of Camp BALLS!”
All the guys pause.
“You’re really gonna say it like that?” West asks.
“It’s anacronym,” McCormick defends.
“Sure it is,” Brandt mutters.
Then, the silence turns to chaos.
It starts with a glue stick. Just one. Somehow airborne. Then a scream. No one's hurt—just screaming because it's satisfying. A small child bolts from the group like someone yelled "INCOMING" and starts scaling the bookshelf like a sugar-powered spider monkey.
West has a kid clinging to his leg like a koala. “Okay. Okay,” he concedes, looking to Brandt for help. “You live here now. That’s fine.”
Another kid pokes Mandy in the stomach and says, “Are you a zombie?”
Mandy freezes.
Brandt swoops in like a social worker with snacks. “He’s asuperhero,dude. Those are burn scars. Like Deadpool, but hotter and less Canadian.”
The kid nods sagely and offers Mandy a half-melted Starburst. “Cool.”
Mandy blinks. “Cool?”
“Cool,” the kid repeats.
Mandy pockets the Starburst like it’s a medal of honor.
Nash meanwhile has backed into a corner and is being interrogated by two identical twins with matching shirts and zero mercy.
“Do you know how to kill someone with a pencil?”
“Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“Are you married to that man over there or are youjust friends?”
Nash turns to Jax. “I’m gonna snap. I’m gonna snap in front of children. It’s gonna get ugly.”
Jax is too busy duct-taping pool noodles together for a “team-building exercise” that is rapidly becoming an improvised battering ram.
McCormick yells, “Smores in twenty! No fire until I say so!”
They seem to regroup after that, having a new mission to focus on. Brandt leads them outdoors where they gather in the shade of a giant maple. He delegates tasks like a born leader.
“You,” he points to a girl in pigtails. “Find a battle buddy and collect kindling for the fire.” He stares down a freckle-faced boy engrossed in a handheld gaming device. “Put that down and go get a bucket of sand from the playground.” Next, he sets his sights on the twins. “One of you get a bucket of water from the bathroom, and one of you find roasting sticks.”
He pauses when he hears a little girl shreik like she’s being kidnapped. Brandt glances over his shoulder to find a kid lighting a marshmallow on a stick using a suspiciously legal-looking lighter.
“WHO GAVE THE CHILD FIRE?” West bellows.
“Honestly? Respect,” Jax mutters.
“Gather around, kids,” McCormick yells. And like the Pied Piper, they follow him without question. Possibly because he’s huge and towers over them, possibly because he’s brightly colored like a crayon, or possibly because he’s holding a package of hot dogs. “Let me show you how to light your weenie on fire.”
West groans and rubs his face. He looks exhausted and they’ve only been at it for thirty minutes.
