Kit’s POV

I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face as I left the main office. The three letters in my hands were carefully pressed against my chest as I walked back to my cabin in, trying to keep them from being swept away in the slight wind. 

I knew they would all write to me but I wasn’t expecting them to all write within the first month of me being gone. Still I was excited to see I wasn’t forgotten about already. 

Despite camp being better than most of the foster homes I lived in, being roomed with Roland had been a hard adjustment. He had so many undisclosed rules that he never felt the need to tell me so figuring them out on my own has been a bit of a challenge but I think I have at least most of them mapped out. 

Wipe every new thing down with fresh cleaning rags the second it comes in, if we eat in the cabin treys have to go on the dressers after we get done, never on the floor, and the remaining food must be scrapped to the middle of the trey, and though it was more of a suggestion, keep dirty clothes off the floor and try to keep the cabin as clean as possible. I’m certain there were more I hadn’t figured out yet but for now it seemed to make things run a bit smoother. 

Still, even though Roland had slowly started speaking to me a bit more after I helped clan his books, I missed the friends I had before I was forced to come here so hearing from them was enough to make the rocky start with Roland better.

When I got back to the cabin Roland was sitting in the middle of his bed where he always sat, his eyes focused on the edge of the bed where he always stared. His arms wrapped around his knees. The same position I find him in every time I leave and come back. 

I don’t bother acknowledging him as I sit on my bed and lean against the headboard before opening the first letter from Nathen.

“What’s that,” Roland asked the second the first bit of the envelope ripped. 

“A letter from one of my friends at rehab. The other ones are the from different friends at the same place. Roland didn’t answer but his blank face did drop a bit. 

My eyes quickly scanned the paper, forcing down a laugh every now and then. When I’m done reading I put the paper down and go to reach for the next one when I notice Roland staring at me intently. 

“Can I help you?”

“You have friends?” I don’t bother trying to hide this laugh but Roland only look more confused. 

“Is it that surprising that I’m likable enough to have friends?”

“You don’t have any here,” he points out.

“That’s fair,” I sighed as I remembered my first week here with that bitch cult. I had tried making friends even after that but most of the people I tried talking to only wanted to talk about the ‘weirdo’ I was living with. I kind of stopped trying after that, not wanting to shit talk one of the few people who seem to not be a dick here. “I noticed you haven’t gotten any letters even though you got here before me. Do you not have anyone who’d want to keep in touch with you?”

A frown covers his face.

“Am I supposed to?”

“I mean it’s not a rule or anything but I feel like most people here probably have at least one person who would want to know how they’re doing in a camp like this.”

“Who would care?”

“Parents I guess, maybe friends on the outside. When I was first moved into rehab my last foster home sent me letters for most of it until I stopped writing back. The only reason I wrote back in the first place was because I thought they were going to take me back after my program ended but when I was told I’ be coming here instead I didn’t see the point anymore.”

“That seems rude,” Roland said as he put his chin on his knees. 

“Maybe but if they don’t care enough to take me back then I don’t care enough to stay civil. Better than writing them a nasty letter saying that I hated them for giving me up. You don’t have anyone like that?”

“I don’t like people, I like cars. Most people don’t like cars enough to talk about them as much as I want to. They think I’m just weird.”

“Maybe we could get you a pen pal. Or maybe try to get you a sponsor. I’ve heard a lot of them like to keep up with the kid they’re paying for.”

“I don’t want someone to pay for me.”

“So a pen pal then.”

“No one wants to talk to a weirdo when they don’t have to.” There was no heat to his words but he spoke them as if they were law. As if it was common knowledge, something has been nailed into his head from birth. 

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone.”

“Your parents told you that?”

“My mom. My dad didn’t care. He liked cars too. She didn’t like that we liked cars. Said spending too much time with machines weren’t good for us.”

“And your foster parents?”

“They didn’t like taking care of the weird kid. They preferred it when I didn’t talk.” A sad look crossed his face as he rubbed his right cheek thoughtless.

“How did you come here?” I asked before I could stop myself. It was probably far too personal for someone for a random person to be asking but I had to know. Only people with criminal records come here and from what I’ve seen from him Roland seems to be a victim more than anything else. “The place is only for criminals. I’m here for drug abuse after my rehab, what did you do?”

“I stole a pair of socks from a convenient store. I was cold and toes are the first things to die in extreme cold. I didn’t want to loose my toes but I got caught. I think I was technically also charged with run away from my last foster parents but I don’t know if it was dropped later.”

“Why did you run from them?”

“I don’t want to answer that,” he said as he seemingly shrunk in on himself even more. “Andrew said I didn’t have to answer any question I didn’t want to.”

“He’s right,” I said as I held back a sigh. “You don’t. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” I want to push. I want to push so bad. I finally getting information out of him for once and now I ask one question that’s a little too far behind the line drawn in the sand he’s back to clamming up.

It’s another few hours before something changes the quiet awkwardness I had created. For a while I just read the other letters I had got, Roland doesn’t stare at me this time when I do it. After another few minutes of silence I get my notebook out and began writing letter of my own to them. When I’m done I fold them neatly before putting them back in my notebook until I can get envelops of my own later. 

We sit there in silence again until a knock comes banging at the door. Roland jumps out of his skin like he did when I first came to camp. He hasn’t done it in so long I can’t help but feel like I single handedly set him back.

I push down a sigh as I walk over to the door and open. 

Andrew and Mary are standing there, wide smiles on their faces as they peak around the door to find Roland staring disinterestingly at them. 

“Can we borrow you Roland?” Mary asked excitedly, practically buzzing where she’s standing. “We have a surprise for you!”

“What is it,” he asked as he slowly got off the bed. 

“Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you,” Andrew said with a smile of his own. A small frown covered Roland’s face as he put his shoes on and followed them out the door without a second thought.