Roland’s POV

I sat on the porch of the front office. The sun was still too bright, the kids were still too loud, and the bugs were still annoying but it was worth it considering who I was about to talk to.

Call Day had just started but I wanted to be there the second Kit was allowed to call in case he was the first one and I missed it. We would need to make a schedule for next time but for now, it was okay. 

“Early again,” Mary noted as she stepped out onto the porch and took a seat beside me.

“We need to make a schedule so we both aren’t in the dark when it’s time to call,” I told her, still not taking my eyes off the field in front of me. The same kids as last week were out playing a different game. It looked like kickball but they seemed to have put some twist on the rules because that was not how kickball was played.

“You could join them,” Mary said after a while of watching me stare. “I promise I’ll come get you when Kit calls.”

“I don’t want to play. I don’t know them or the rules and I don’t like sports.” Mary frowned but didn’t offer again.

“Roland I’m getting worried about you,” she said with a sigh. My throat closed up and my heart seized. The ‘getting worried’ talk was never a good one for me. It mostly came from foster parents only weeks before I was moved. I didn’t want to get moved from here. It may have sucked sometimes and the people were mean but foster care was worse and I didn’t even want to think about jail. “You don’t have any friends, you never talk to anyone, the only thing you seem to enjoy here is your cars.”

“I do like my cars,” I forced out, my throat barely letting any words out.

“And the rest of it? All you do is sit in your cabin and work. Camp is about making friends and getting better and it feels like you aren’t really doing those things.”

“What do I need to get better at,” I asked because obviously I had done something wrong and if I wanted to stay here I needed to make up for it.

“Not get better,” she said with a sigh. “I misspoke. More like healing. Camp is about healing your mental state after the trauma and making sure you won’t go down the same road when you leave.”

“I won’t need to steal anymore after I leave. I won’t be homeless then.”

“And the trauma?”

“I don’t have trauma.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No.”

“I think most people would say trauma would occur after seeing your dad die, then seeing your mom dead, and then going into foster care where people weren’t very kind to you. You don’t see that as traumatic?”

“It was sad when Dad died,” I said honestly, choosing to stare at the kids playing and risk looking at Mary. “I miss him and it was sad but it’s okay now. Mom was mean after he died and I had expected it. Untreated depression leads to death sometimes. It’s normal. Foster care is bad for half of the people in it so that’s normal too. I’m okay.”

“But you shouldn’t be okay with that,” Mary said, sounding a little upset. “People have wronged you. You should be upset or sad or have some emotion about it other than just indifference.”

“Why does it matter what I feel,” I asked her, finally breaking away from the game. Mary was openly staring at me. She had a defeated look on her face as she sighed and dropped her shoulders.

“Because your feelings matter. I just want you to know that you won’t be punished or anything if you have feelings or emotions. If you need to scream then I want you to scream. If you need to cry then I want you to cry. But if you say you’re okay then I will believe you.”

“I’m okay.” She took a deep breath before nodding.

“Okay. Will you come to me if you ever aren’t okay?”

“Sure,” I said and I think we both knew better than to believe that. Mary looked like she was about to say something else when her phone rang. I didn’t bother trying to hide my excitement when  I openly stared at the screen. Somewhere in the back of my mind my mother was screaming that it was rude and I should mind my manners but I didn’t care because Kit’s name was flashing across the screen.

She only smiled as she handed the phone to me.

“Take a walk if you want,” she said as she stood up. “Or hang out in your cabin. Just remember to drop my phone off when you’re done."

Kit’s POV

“Hello,” Roland said into the phone, a smile clear in his voice.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Fine. Mary was acting weird but I’m good. How are you?”

“Tired,” I said honestly. “I’ve been pulling doubles all week and it has kind of sucked but the money is good so it’s fine. I should be able to stop volunteering for them next month.”

“I wish you would just let me send you money,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t want you to work yourself to death.”

“it builds character,” I teased. “Besides, the more I work the less time I have to get into trouble so it’s okay.”

“Why would you get in trouble?”

“Trouble just seems to find me. I blame the lack of impulse control.”

“You just have to make it a year and then I can be your impulse control again.” I smiled as I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The apartment was quiet now that everyone was at work and it felt nice to have the place to myself. To have a time where it could just be me and Roland and nothing else mattered.

“I think I can manage a year,” I said and Roland huffed.

“I should hope so.”

“Tell me about the car you’re working on,” I said because it felt normal and honestly hearing him talk about cars was a little hot even if I had no idea what he was talking about.

“The alternator is shot,” he said with a sigh and I could almost imagine the pout on his face. “We ordered a new one because Russ didn’t have one. It’s supposed to be here tomorrow but Andrew said we need to have a product session before I can start on it. I got to play around with the broken one though so that was fun. I have a better picture in my mind about it now. It was fun.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I said with a smile. “What else have you done this week?” He was quiet and I knew already had my answer. “Well, that’s okay. I can see how camp would be boring without someone you tolerate.”

“It is,” he agreed with a sigh. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m sitting in my room. My friends are all working so I’m just enjoying the time alone with my boyfriend. I swear this bed is so comfy. It’s like a cloud compared to the ones at camp."

“The beds do suck,” Roland sighed. “I miss my bed at home. It was nice.”

“We’re going to have to get a bigger one if you want to share when we move in. There is no way the two of us are fitting on your childhood bed. We barely fit on the ones at camp.”

“I know. I’ve been saving all the money I’ve been making. We can get a new bed with that. We’ll have everything else that we’ll need. It’s going to need a deep clean though.”

“I’ll do the cleaning,” I told him. “Don’t want you throwing up all over the place.” He went quiet again. “Andrew told me. I think we should talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about? I threw up. It happens. I told you that it’s happened before back in foster care.”

“Why didn’t you tell Andrew about it?”

“I did tell him.”

“You told him because you needed him to do something for you. Would you have told him if you didn’t need him to burn those clothes?”

“Why would he need to know?”

“Because it’s his job to make sure you’re okay and throwing up is pretty much the exact opposite of being okay.”

“It’s not like he could have helped,” he said and I could tell he was shrugging.

“He could have. You don’t know what he could have done because you didn’t go to him.” Roland huffed out a breath before going quiet again. “I just don’t like knowing that you’re suffering and not telling anyone about it. Would you have told me today if I hadn’t brought it up?”

“No.” I couldn’t help my sigh. I didn’t want to fight. Not when we only had a few minutes a week to talk but he couldn’t go on like this. I wouldn’t allow it.

“Why not? You promised to tell me if things started to get bad there. If you weren’t going to tell me about this how can I believe that you’ll tell me when things get worse than this?”

“I will tell you,” he insisted.

“But how do I know that? I mean this is, as far as I know, the first less-than-decent thing that has happened and you didn’t tell me so how do I know that you’ll tell me if something else happens? You aren’t exactly showing me that I can trust you to do it in the future.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” he defended. I sighed.

“You didn’t think someone making you throw up was ‘that bad’?”

“I think a napkin being thrown at me is no big deal,” Roland said, a bit of heat in his voice. “It’s not like he pushed his fingers down my throat and made me throw up. I just did it because I was grossed out. It’s not a big deal and I’m tired of everyone acting like it is. You, Andrew, Mary, all of you need to just calm down about this. I’m fine, Andrew said they found the guy and talked to him, the clothes have been taken care of, and everything is okay.” He was getting upset. His voice was steadily rising and I could tell his free hand was flapping at his side.

I sighed as I forced myself to take a deep breath.

“Alright,” I said, trying to make myself seem more calm. “If you say this was no big deal then I will believe you. I’m sorry if I made you upset.”

“It’s not just you,” he said with a pout. “Andrew and Mary are getting weird about it too. I’m not a child. I can take care of myself and if something is bothering me then I will tell someone. I am fine.”

“You’re right,” I said as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “I’m sorry. I just get worried. I hate not being there with you. Next time someone messes with you just threaten your boyfriend against them.”

“I don’t think that would work considering they don’t know you and you aren’t here to actually stop them,” he said with a sigh but he seemed to be getting less upset.

“That makes it better,” I said with a chuckle. “You can lie to them. Tell them that I’m a professional football player. 300 pounds, like 6 and a half feet tall, can bench press 600 pounds. Put the fear of god into them.” He laughed lightly and I could hear his hand stilling. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said and I could tell he was smiling. “I wish you were here. Even if you are annoying sometimes.”

“You love it when I’m annoying,” I teased and he laughed again. I never wanted him to stop making that sound. 

“Maybe sometimes.”

“Or all of the time,” I corrected. He hummed but didn’t correct me.

“I wish you were here,” he whispered and my heart broke a bit at the words. 

“I wish you were here. Maybe you can sneak me in one of these days.”

“I’m sure I could if you gave me enough time to plan,” he said a bit too seriously.

“I was joking. I don’t want us to get in trouble. They could move you or refuse my calls. It’s not worth it, is it? A few minutes face to face versus hours of calls for the rest of the year.”

“Only if they catch us.”

“They’re going to catch us,” I said with a smirk. “You’ve never seen me try to sneak around but I’m not very good at it.” He laughed again and this close to my ear it felt like he was sitting right beside me. I closed my eyes and listened to his voice.

“I can teach you,” he said like it was no big deal. “It’s not that hard once you learn how to walk on dead leaves. That’s the hardest part.”

“Oh, I believe you could Mr. Runaway,” I teased and I could almost see the blush on his face.

“Shut up,” he mumbled so I stopped talking though I didn’t bother forcing my smile away. “Keep talking,” he whispered, so I did.