I pooped my pants at Camp!
B-A-L-L-S!
We’re doin’ our best!”
West rubs his temples. “I’ve seen combat. This is worse.”
Then a soft voice calls out from side stage.
“Mr. Mandy? Will you do the reading with me?”
Mandy freezes. A tiny kid walks on stage, holding a dog-eared copy ofDeadpool: The Official Movie Novelization.
The entire room goes silent.
“I... I don’t—” Mandy begins.
“She’s nervous,” an older girl whispers. “But she said if you do it, she will too.”
Riggs, watching from the back, gives Mandy a thumbs-up. “You got this, man.”
Mandy sighs, stands up, and walks to the stage like it might swallow him whole. The little girl hands him the book.
They perform the scene like it’sShakespeare. Mandy getswaytoo into the gravelly Ryan Reynolds voice. The kid nails the emotional arc of Dopinder. The room is dead silent.
When they finish, everyone claps. Mandy turns to her and murmurs, “You were amazing.”
The girl grins and, without hesitation, hugs him around the waist, not showing any fear or revulsion about his scars. Mandy stands frozen for a second, then crouches and hugs her back.
She hands him a glittery certificate she made herself. It says:
“Best Superhero Counselor (Hotter than Deadpool)”
Mandy walks off stage red in the face, but smiling.
Jax whispers to West, “I give him five minutes before he pretends he’s not crying.”
“He’s already crying,” West whispers back. “Look at the ears.”
Brandt walks on stage to close the show, holding a microphone shaped like a spoon.
“Thanks, campers! You've been... loud. And sticky. And weirdly talented. Remember, Camp BALLS loves you!”
One kid screams from the back: “Camp BALLS changed my life!”
The counselors exchange glances.
McCormick laughs. “Okay. Who let them write that on the T-shirts?”
“Not it,” Nash groans.
Fade to black as the stage lights dim and Mandy tucks the glittery certificate into his pocket like it’s priceless.
The room is dim. The blinds are drawn. A fake campfire sits in the center of the circle—red and orange construction paper “flames” arranged around a pile of toilet paper tubes and battery-powered candles. It flickers like the world’s saddest fire hazard.
The kids are quiet for once, sitting cross-legged and curious.
The guys sit with them in a circle—West, Jax, Nash, Brandt, McCormick, and Mandy. Each one holds a paper plate with their name drawn on it in crayon, because name tags are mandatory at Camp BALLS and Riggs hasrules.
