let the gods speak softly of us

by jellyfishheart

the summer after Sarah hooks up with Beth's boyfriend she finds herself also plagued by Rachel "I'm not here to make friends" Duncan, who's content to spend the full two months pretending she's literally anywhere else. or yet another summer camp AU in which Sarah and Rachel hate each other until it gets complicated.

1. Chapter 1

A/N: Rachel's attitude is great for ANTM but not so much for dealing with kids. Sarah's a mess. also contains Cosima/Delphine, a disillusioned Beth/Paul, and Alison/Beth as well as a suicide attempt that will get a big warning at the start of its chapter.

/

The beautiful are found in the edge of a room
Crumpled into spiders and needles and silence
And we can never understand why they
Left, they were so
Beautiful.

/

A year ago today she was standing in this exact spot, watching the buses pull over the hill with a building nausea and her hands jammed into her shorts pockets so no one could see them trembling.

So much of that first day was survival that she almost wants to laugh; it had seemed crucial to keep a wall between her and the rest of the staff, convinced they'd catch one whiff of insecurity or damaged goods and pin her to a tree for the rest of the summer. Now she's half leaning against Cosima, filled not with dread but eye-rolling anticipation, tossing out names and waiting for them to be shot down.

"Quinn Martinez," she offers, lips curling in a smile.

Cosima laughs and shakes her head and beside her Delphine lets out a breath through her nose. "No way," Cosima says. "Sarah, she was a little shit."

"Yeah, but something about her..." Sarah says with a shrug. Cosima snorts. "All I'm saying is I wouldn't mind if she came back."

"You always do gravitate towards the troublemakers," Delphine says.

The first of the buses rumbles to a stop just before a cluster of picnic tables and Sarah shields her eyes to try to spot Quinn through the dusty windows, not really wanting to experience a summer without that little shit-disturber. She'd be eleven now, in Sarah's group; having her on her side would make the prank wars so much more entertaining. (She maybe, secretly, hasn't checked the list of campers on her clipboard yet just to surprise herself.)

A giant tangle of dark hair comes bouncing off the bus just as Delphine starts to laugh and Sarah lets out a little cheer.

"I really do like her," she says as Quinn spots her and rolls her eyes with an affectionate scowl.

The kids pile up by the picnic tables, their bags bigger than themselves, and the quiet buzz of excitement that had filled the staff as they waited has been amplified to a rush of movement and giddy chatter.

Delphine and Cosima grab their clipboards and take off to the slowing second bus, needing to catch their tiny kids before they get lost in the flow. Sarah has another couple moments of peace before her kids start to find her – the older ones are a little more self-sufficient, able to locate their bags and friends without much help, but they'll be wanting to see their cabin and any new faces soon and Sarah will have to facilitate.

She's a little curious herself to see the newest counselor, some Cambridge bitch Rachel, in action. The girl missed all but the last day of orientation week and somehow managed to get through it without talking to anyone, so all Sarah really knows about her is that she has some kind of stick up her ass and will be working with the ten year olds in the cabin attached to Sarah's.

And she isn't even here – the director wanted to chat with her before the kids arrived, so with Sarah's luck she'll be corralling two unruly groups to their cabins without even a thanks.

"So I'm stuck with you, then?"

Quinn's suddenly standing in front of her expectantly, having dragged with her two of the other eleven year-olds and their overstuffed suitcases.

Sarah smiles and resists the urge to finger-comb Quinn's hair. "Looks like it, you monkey. Hope you like manual labor."

Quinn makes a face and mutters something to the other girl, a new kid Sarah gleans is named Raya from the luggage tag, who looks petrified enough to believe whatever lie Quinn told her. She makes us scrub the toilets with our toothbrushes or something equally ridiculous, and Sarah would confirm if she didn't see two returning girls looking lost in the middle of the chaos.

"Will you go get Sameera and Ava?" she says to Quinn, who frowns but moves to comply. "I'm gonna round up the rest of the brood then see if we're allowed to go to the cabins yet."

There are a few names on her clipboard she doesn't recognize but the eleven year-olds are, thankfully, usually a couple inches taller than everyone else and more cliquey than Sarah cares to understand. She can already see one of her girls with a group of boys under a tree, their eyes trained on whatever dumb joke their bigheaded counselor is probably telling.

Paul interrupts his performance when Sarah appears, immediately breaking into one of his supposedly charming smiles and moving so Sarah stands in the limelight.

"This is one of the coolest girls you'll ever meet," he introduces to his boys and the one girl who's clinging to someone who must be her twin brother. "If you're lucky she might teach you how to pick a lock or steal food from the mess hall."

"Yeah, or how to spend your summer on latrine duty," she says with a wave of her hand, eager to get out of the sickly cloud of his body spray.

Paul laughs and she shakes off the hand that lands on her arm.

"How's your girlfriend, Paul?" she mutters to him before saying louder, "I think you have one of my girls. What's your name, love?"

The girl straightens up and glances at the boy beside her, who definitely shares her cheekbones and tan skin. "Naomi," she says with more confidence than Sarah expected.

The name's at the bottom of Sarah's clipboard, and she makes a tick beside it before giving Naomi a big smile. "Well you're with me for the summer! Wanna say a quick goodbye to your brother?"

They share another look that Sarah can only chalk up to being twins, ignoring the slight twist it sparks inside her and running a hand through her hair. She hates to be the one to break up siblings.

"Don't worry Nate, we do a lot of group activities together," Paul says to the brother, putting an arm around Sarah for a brief second before she slips out of it.

"Yeah, unfortunately," she says, under her breath.

She half wishes she'd taken the director up on his offer to switch to the ten year-olds when a spot had become available, much rather wanting to work with Tony, the counselor for the ten year-old boys, than be stuck with Paul for another summer. But somehow her attachment to the shitty right side of the cabin had won out. (And maybe, she won't admit to herself, she needed to keep Paul close enough to make sure he didn't try anything with anyone else.)

Naomi grabs her suitcase and slings a backpack over her shoulder and it's a steely look that could have come from Sarah that she walks away with, joining Sarah as she hightails it away from Paul and back to where her girls have gathered near a picnic table. Quinn seems to be entertaining them with what could only be an inappropriate story and Sarah sighs, getting a pretty good image of how this summer's going to go.

"I'm Sarah, by the way," she says to Naomi, who nods to acknowledge it but doesn't say anything in response.

It isn't the silent treatment, but Sarah understands the need to be alone in your head to ground yourself before whatever's about to happen to you. She spent eight years shuffled around from home to unwelcoming home; maybe it's why the lonely kids always seem to take to her.

/

Cambridge shows up at the last second to round up her ten year olds and barely even glances in Sarah's direction despite them essentially walking together to the cabin, which any other day would have unnerved her but in the wake of Paul feels almost considerate.

Rachel Duncan, Sarah reads over her clipboard. She now knows three things about the walking tundra.

Rachel turns to her once they've all stopped outside the double cabin, her short ashy-blonde hair smooth despite the breeze that's picked up. Sarah's sure her own hair is as messy as Quinn's by now and gives it a quick pat down under Rachel's guise, hoping the girl doesn't think it's for her benefit and squirming a little with the prolonged look she gives her.

"I assume you have rules to go over with your girls," Rachel says as her kids perk up at the accent. Sarah wonders if she's said anything to them at all. "Might as well do it before the chaos of choosing bunks begins, yes?"

It feels like an attempt to suss out how lenient Sarah's going to be with her kids, or to see what exactly goes at this camp. It's becoming clearer now that this is Rachel's first time working in this kind of environment and if there wasn't an almost imperceptible plea in Rachel's eyes then Sarah would milk it for all it's worth.

(Sarah's tactics were a little rougher but with the same intentions last year, and God knows where she'd be if Cosima hadn't taken her under her wing. This might play into it as well but fuck if she's gonna let that slip.)

"Yeah, of course," she says easily, motioning for all the kids to come closer.

Rachel purses her lips together in what might be gratitude and shifts her body so she looks as equally part of this as Sarah.

"Okay, so same as last year for the returning kids; you got the general camp rules in your mail out and we'll probably hear them again at the meeting, but Sarah Rules are as follows: you make a mess you clean it. That goes for stuff and people," Sarah emphasizes, giving Quinn a pointed look. "Any food you snuck in has to be in a sealed container – I am not dealing with ants this year. If you aren't making friends, you're making enemies."

Rachel catches her eye at this and Sarah's tempted to call her out right now.

"Lastly," she says instead, looking back to the girls, "all feelings are valid. And I'm here for whatever you need. Anything you'd like to add, Rachel?"

The kids all look to Rachel expectantly, and she opens her mouth slightly, put on the spot. "Ah, maybe just an emphasis on personal responsibility?"

Sarah does her best to ignore a snort from Quinn. "Sounds good, I think we're good. Shall we grab our bunks now? Tens on the left, elevens on the right. If you were here last year you know how it goes so-"

She stops as the kids take off into the cabins, knowing the absolute pandemonium that's about to take place will drown out anything she could try to say. Someone's gonna come out in tears in a minute or two but for the time being, she and Rachel are alone.

"So," she says, turning to face Rachel who's frowning at a streak of dirt on her tennis shoes.

"Sarah Manning, yes?" Rachel says without looking up. Sarah makes a noise in confirmation. "I've heard so much about you."

It's almost villainous the way she spits it out, and Sarah shivers.

Of course people would be talking; she's sure it was Alison, the pint-sized future soccer mom who somehow ends up in everyone's business, who made very sure to let Sarah know last year just how despicable it was what she did with Paul. (And Alison's affection for Paul's girlfriend, Beth, had nothing to do with it, Sarah's sure.) If the rumor mills are spinning Sarah knows that's on the tip of everyone's tongue.

(She likes Beth, the way anyone can like someone they only really know from observing, despite a summer working with her. Almost everyone who knows Beth only knows her from observing; if she wasn't so sad her solitude would be admirable. Still, she can't say she was thinking much about Beth when she let Paul in and she wishes she'd had the balls to apologize. To even acknowledge it.)

"Paul's an arse, just so you know," Sarah says to Rachel to just get it out of the way.

Rachel's eyebrow lifts. "Well I haven't heard about that, but I'm sure I will if that's what you assumed."

Sarah rubs her cheek and sighs. She's about to ask just what Rachel's heard when one of the ten year olds comes out crying, a hairbrush in her hand, barreling straight for Sarah who has to steer her towards Rachel.

"Good luck with that," she says as the kid starts to reach for Rachel's fitted white shirt. "I'd better go see how much blood's been shed in my cabin."

She leaves Rachel with what she can only hope is a smirk the way she feels it falter on her lips and disappears into her cabin before Rachel has time to notice.

"Oh thank God," Quinn says as soon as she's inside. "We've got ourselves a problem."

/

Sarah spies Beth that night at the campfire, as she's herding her girls towards one of the last free logs around the pit and trying to find Rachel to give her a nice glare for taking off without her. She may be new but there is still a way things are run – even the shitty tens counselor last year, Angela, new that.

Beth has her dark hair up in a bun that would look sleek if it weren't for the shadows under her eyes and Sarah understands it to be an act of desperation: just get the hair out of her face as easily as possible, one less grievance to deal with. She's near Alison, which isn't surprising, their two groups an intermingled pile across a log and the sit-upons in front of it. When Alison catches Sarah looking she lifts her chin with menace and Sarah drops her gaze, not wanting to drag all this up again.

The thing with Paul didn't even last long, but it's as if Sarah set out to break Beth's fragile heart with the way Alison's gone on. And truthfully, Sarah still hasn't said, he was the one to instigate it. The one with a girlfriend. The one who definitely should have known better, and who very much deserves at least some of the blame.

But knowing that doesn't alleviate the guilt that sits heavy in Sarah's chest and she can only drop down hard on her log and try not to look in Beth's direction.

Why are you even still with him, she wants to ask. You don't love him.

But maybe she does – Sarah considers that maybe it's Beth's way of trying to ground herself, just as Sarah latched on to a few bad seeds she's come to regret. There's something about being treated shittily when you're not feeling too hot about yourself that makes things feel a little more solid, and Sarah can't fault her for it. She only wishes she hadn't made it worse.

"Aw man, all the good logs are gone," Cosima says essentially at Sarah's ear, scaring the shit out of her.

"Fucking warn a person," Sarah mutters, making sure none of the kids heard. "And yeah, that's what happens when you show up late."

Cosima wiggles her hands in an apologetic gesture, her seven year-olds piling around her like lost puppies and staring curiously at Sarah's older brood. Sarah smiles at an especially tiny girl with long braids who smiles back and hides behind Cosima's leg.

Cosima's not even paying attention, squinting across the fire to presumably spot Delphine.

It didn't exactly surprise Sarah when she heard they were together at the end of last summer but she was impressed they finally decided to call it something, after eight weeks of sneaking around and pretending the rest of the world didn't exist. Sarah had really gotten comfortable being a third wheel with them.

But they're happy now, still going strong, so Sarah's happy for them. Even when they forget she's around and just take off as one nerdy unit to whatever they've decided to tackle next.

"Aw, no, Delphine saved a spot for me," Cosima says with a grin, absently reaching to pat the head of whatever child's behind her. "Come along, my future scientists and engineers. Peace out, Sarah!"

Yeah, bye," Sarah says with a snort, waving at all the tiny children as Cosima weaves them around the logs to go join Delphine.

It's only as she's shaking her head and Quinn plops down beside her that she notices her log is directly next to Rachel's, and Rachel sits there with ankles crossed as if not a single part of this is taking place in front of her.

"I hate her," Quinn says, following Sarah's gaze, as she snuggles closer to Sarah's arm.

The kid's probably wiping snot on her to laugh about later, but Sarah appreciates the affection.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Sarah asks.

Rachel can probably hear them, or at least could if she wasn't mentally on some clean vacation, so Sarah doesn't want to outright agree and set the tone for this no doubt excruciatingly long summer.

Quinn lets out a loud sigh and multitasks by sending a nasty look to Daniela, who she's decided is her nemesis for the summer or something. Sarah wasn't really paying attention when she was complaining earlier. They were friends last year so whatever happened in those five minutes of choosing bunks has apparently sparked a war – or a fight that'll fizzle out by tomorrow, Sarah's not sure.

"She's a bitch," Quinn says, whispering the last word.

If it was any other kid Sarah would chuck her upside the head. "Quinn..."

"Well you know she's gonna be mean," Quinn says as if that justifies it. "Worse than Angela. Did she get fired? Ella says she got fired for drugs."

Sarah laughs and pulls Quinn closer, letting the warmth of the fire wash over her. "Yeah, no, she didn't get fired. She quit. Uh, not exactly cut out for the camp thing. You know?"

Sarah had definitely caught Angela with some pot the summer before, but it wasn't as if she didn't accept a hit when offered and the director doesn't seem to have a problem with overlooking anything that doesn't directly affect the kids. The lack of enthusiasm, however, and constant refusal to participate in arts and crafts got her one hell of a talking to. Sarah still isn't entirely sure whose idea it was for Angela to leave.

"You know Daniela's butt got bigger," Quinn says now, smiling wickedly down the log.

Daniela has a pained look on her face but is doing her best to ignore Quinn, and Sarah just doesn't have it in her to take a full summer of this.

"Really? Well she's gonna be your new bunkmate. Raya, you're gonna switch with Daniela, okay? She and Quinn need to learn how to play nice." Sarah bites down on the last word and can't help glancing over at Rachel, who seems to be listening with veiled amusement.

Quinn whines at Sarah's ear and gets up to move somewhere else on the log, deeming Sarah the moment's enemy, and Raya casually shifts in next to Sarah to fill the space and signify that she's above the petty drama.

She's a good one, Sarah's decided. She and the two cousins, Afsheen and Zohal, who are wicked giggly but so far more than willing to participate. If only Sarah could have a whole group of politely enthusiastic kids.

Those three and Naomi are the only new kids, the rest of them faces Sarah saw around camp last year and even interacted with during some of the activities. (She had quite the experience on a canoe trip with Quinn that she's vowed not to repeat, but other than that most of the mixed-group activities are pretty good.)

She's found Madeleine to be consistently responsible, even going so far as to help her clean up a god-awful bird craft last year in the art cabin despite it not being her group's, and Sameera and Ava don't seem to give anyone trouble. Daniela's fine without Quinn and seems to care about keeping her space clean. Sophia, unfortunately, she continues to forget, with a name shared by five other girls this session and a face that could blend in with any crowd. Even though she had her in her canoe last year she still can't keep her in her mind.

She quickly checks the end of the log now to make sure she didn't leave Sophia behind, and Sophia smiles at her like they're in on some joke which only makes Sarah feel more guilty for not giving two shits about her.

Some people are just plain, she reasons. But still, it's a kid. She should know better.

The marshmallow roasting starts not long after, and despite wanting to see Rachel have to deal with the sticky mess of smores the older kids don't need much help. Cosima and Delphine across the fire are already covered in gooey marshmallow, their kids laughing and fighting over who gets the next one, Cosima sticking her dirty fingers in Delphine's face. Sarah smiles.

"Cute," Rachel says of the gesture, in a way that makes it sound entirely not cute.

Sarah rolls her eyes and shifts on the log so she can see Rachel, now that their kids are all at the fire with long pokers and their two logs are empty. Their half of the circle feels barren until Sarah tenses up at the sight of Paul joking around with Tony a couple logs over. She exhales and vows to ignore him if he tries anything.

"I'm curious what took place there," Rachel says, motioning over at Paul.

He's busy pretending to stab Tony with a poker as if they're fencing and Sarah's stomach muscles contract.

"How about none of your business," Sarah says.

Rachel makes a small noise and lifts her shoulders, acknowledging that Sarah's uncomfortable. "He seems like a bit of a dick," she says coolly.

A bubble of a laugh escapes Sarah's mouth. She could swear she sees Rachel smile at the sound but it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"That's an understatement," Sarah says, wondering maybe if Rachel's cold exterior is only there because she's shy and doesn't know how to reach out. She feels like a bit of a dick herself for assuming so quickly.

Of course the button-down white shirt and pressed shorts she's wearing, to a campfire at the edge of the woods, isn't helping her case, but Sarah can overlook poor fashion taste if the girl just doesn't know how to make friends. The stick up her ass could just be preemptive self-defense.

"You know, some of the counselors dip out after lights out to hang by the boathouse," Sarah offers, chancing a smile in Rachel's direction. "You're welcome to come."

Rachel's little laugh sounds exactly like a slap in the face and Sarah regrets her moment of weakness.

"I'm not here to make friends, Sarah," Rachel says with the venom of whatever lurks in the forest that Sarah suddenly wants to shove her into.

"Oh, nice," Sarah snorts. "Noted. I'll be sure to spread that around."

Rachel tilts her head slightly and smoothes down her top as if nothing can disrupt her Zen moment. "Just as you're spreading yourself around camp, I hear. Or is there more to this Paul story that might redeem you."

Sarah swings her legs back around the log and grits her teeth. "No, that's about it. Guess you were just curious why, but I'm sure you've come up with your reasons."

She doesn't even flinch when Rachel looks her up and down and bites out a sharp oh don't worry, I have as if this is some sort of verbal knife toss to which Sarah brought feathers. If this is how the bitch wants to play it, this is how it's going to be.

Sarah's only disappointed for the kids' sake.

/

The first full day of camp has Sarah ready to throttle someone and breakfast isn't even over yet.

Apparently the Quinn and Daniela feud is going to be The Event of the summer, with the kids quickly picking sides. (The only person on Quinn's side is Quinn. And tentatively Sophia, if Sarah's remembering correctly. Mostly she doesn't care.) Their half of the long table in the mess hall is silent, Quinn and Sophia joining Sarah on the one side and the remaining eight girls crammed in on the other, and all Sarah wants is a shitty cup of coffee. But every time she stands up, Quinn starts in on Daniela. And despite Daniela's reserve, her shields are quickly crumbling.

"I'm going to bloody kill somebody," Sarah sings very, very quietly under her breath, staring at the dry toast on a napkin in front of her.

She nicked it from Madeleine, who seemed to sense an extra piece was needed. All this drama and Sarah hasn't even been able to grab breakfast for herself. Madeleine also inquired about halal meals for Afsheen and Zohal, who were apparently too shy to ask for themselves; Sarah might as well ask Madeleine to take over for her at this point. If she could only handle Quinn.

"Looks like you could use this," Delphine says, appearing with a Styrofoam cup of coffee and two creamers.

"Delphine, you are a blessed creature." Sarah takes it from her and pours in the creamers, stacking the empty containers on the edge of her napkin once she's done.

Delphine sinks onto the bench next to her with a smile, somehow diffusing some of the tense energy amongst the girls so that a few of them actually manage to eat. She's looking ethereal this morning, her curls gleaming and her loose linen tank apparently the perfect thing for an angel to wear to breakfast, absolutely glowing under the flickering mess hall lights.

"Where's Cos?" Sarah asks after a few sips of coffee, just enjoying Delphine's company.

If someone had told her on her very first day that her two friends would be the French bitch and the white girl with dreadlocks she would have laughed her way home. She's glad she changed her tune.

"Ah, around, I suppose," Delphine says, looking out across the sea of banged up wooden tables. It's mayhem and Sarah doesn't blame her for flinching at a sudden rise of shouting; that's what they get for sharing space with the boys. "Or late, which actually is more likely. I should get her coffee as well."

Sarah frowns at her lot of girls and asks, "Are her kids that bad then?"

Delphine laughs. "No, not at all. We were just..."

"Up late? Gotcha." Sarah winks and laughs as well and the noise seems to offend her girls enough that a handful of them give in and start chatting.

"More or less," Delphine chuckles. "No, we have a good batch this year. My little ones are especially small, I believe. Some of them not yet six. But we only had two criers last night, so maybe tougher than I think."

Sarah shakes her head. "I don't know how you do it, mate. They're still babies. If I had a kid... well I can't say I'd be sending it off to camp at six, you know?"

Delphine nods in agreement, sipping her own coffee. "Well," she says, "it's easier handling them in that they still very much believe in magic. And their problems aren't so large."

She gestures at Sarah's girls (Quinn scowls) and lifts her shoulders, motioning that it is what it is.

Sarah might actually take criers over a night of bickering, now that she thinks about it. She nudges Delphine's foot with her own, to carry on the conversation without having to talk and also let her know that Cosima and the sevens are now entering the mess hall.

"Oh, there she is," Delphine says with a fond smile, her cheeks ever so slightly pink at the sight.

Madeleine catches it and whips around to spot Cosima, smiling to herself when she sees what the fuss is about. Sarah knew she chose right with that one.

"Well I should go," Delphine says, standing up and smoothing down her shorts where there aren't any wrinkles. "Enjoy the coffee. And the fight."

"Thanks again," Sarah says as Delphine takes off, meeting Cosima by the slightly shorter table where the six and seven year-olds are sitting with Art and Mark.

It's nice that the counselors of the young kids look out for each other, Sarah thinks. She can't imagine sharing a table with Paul and the eleven year-old boys, despite Naomi's forlorn looks at her brother across the room. Not to mention that the little kids are small enough to cram forty of them at one table.

Maybe if Tony had the eleven year-olds, and Rachel and Paul could go fuck themselves together. She's probably his type, actually; all cold and unfeeling, ready to treat him like the little boy he is. Sarah could see the two of them getting along quite well.

And then she wouldn't have to feel sick every time she thinks about Paul's hands on her body, because they'd be roaming someone else's soft skin and there'd be another girl to share the blame.

(She pauses, focusing on the rim of her cup, not wanting to acknowledge what the thought of hands on Rachel's skin did to her momentarily. Sarah's fucked up, but not that fucked up.)

At the very least Rachel wouldn't feel bad for sleeping with Beth's boyfriend. Rachel doesn't feel anything.

At the thought of her Sarah seeks her out at the other end of the table, somehow sitting alone despite her kids filling the benches and perfectly poised with the same breakfast as Sarah – coffee and a dry piece of toast, though no doubt chosen by Rachel herself.

Uppity bitch, Sarah thinks.

"We're swimming today, right?" Naomi asks, tearing her eyes away from her brother.

There's a ripple through the table as her voice cuts through the newest wave of silence, and Sarah sighs inwardly at the course of her pathetic summer. Playing referee to the puberty squad.

"Yeah, after lunch," she replies.

"And we swim with the other eleven year-olds?" Naomi asks.

Sophia shifts her gaze at this, and Daniela looks down at her body. Sarah wants to take all her kids in her arms and tell them they're beautiful and don't need any boy's validation but they might see right through her and figure out she doesn't listen to her own words.

You're all so much better than me, she wills them to believe. Probably even Quinn.

"Yep, with the elevens." And Paul. Who Sarah feels like punching in the face just for making her feel this way.

Naomi smiles down at her plate, satisfied enough to start eating, and Sarah wishes it was possible to steal her brother or hand the two of them off to some other group so they could be together. (Obviously not with Paul though. She doesn't want to send anyone near him.) What Sarah knows of being apart from a sibling is enough to guess at how Naomi must feel.

She makes a mental note to call Felix later, to tell him how much she hates Rachel and still regrets Paul. He'd been afraid she'd fall right back into that the moment she saw him but apparently a year to seethe has done her good.

And her other sibling... She's not even sure she can use that word, knowing so little about her. Just that she was lost to the system and taken in by some crazies who dragged her to Europe, and is now back in Canada being deprogrammed or whatever. Mrs. S calls it healing, but Sarah remembers enough of the first eight years of her life to know some things don't heal.

She met her once, over a video chat set up by the woman who runs the home. Her twin. Helena.

Just seeing her goofy smile and mess of curls was enough to make Sarah miss her, all the time, even when she tries not to think about it. Sixteen years apart. Mrs. S traveled to Canada to find her five years ago, before Sarah even knew, just trying to fight for Sarah's family. And Sarah only got to see her face a year ago.

She'd been so desperate for connections... it isn't as if she blames it for Paul, but she'd been lonely, not yet taken in by Delphine and Cosima, and he seemed to care.

She's so stupid.

Paul laughs across the room and it booms all the way into her bones, setting her teeth on edge. If she could take it back she would in an instant. She wishes she could tell Beth that, desperately.

Part of her wants to get up and go tell Beth right now, despite Alison there at her side, clearly trying to make her laugh over what looks to be even less breakfast than Sarah's. Beth just staring blankly at the table and trying to force her lips into some shell of a smile for Alison. The kind of effort Sarah knows she doesn't give to Paul.

Fuck him, Beth. You don't need him.

A sudden hand on hers jerks her out of her thoughts and she realizes it's Madeleine, trying to bring her back to earth.

"Daniela's crying," Madeleine says, motioning towards where Daniela's slumped over her plate in tears.

"Thanks, Madeleine," Sarah says as she shoots a withering glare to Quinn who was no doubt the cause. She's really starting to regret ever saying she wanted her back.

It's deal with Daniela in front of her current tormentor or leave her group alone, so she sucks it up and heads down the table to ask Rachel to watch them for a second. Rachel looks as if she might say something snotty but then catches Daniela crying and Quinn's silent jeers and just nods.

"The ten year-olds are so much less drama," Sarah exhales as Rachel scoots down the bench a little.

"Well," Rachel says, a tiny smile creeping across her lips, "I do have two Isabellas."

Sarah laughs, grateful for the moment to get out of her head. Rachel gives her another affirmative nod to signify that this is all she's getting but at this point, Sarah will gladly accept crumbs if they aren't soaked in poison.

/

Rachel finds herself sitting alone at the edge of the soccer field, supposedly meant to be leading her group in a soccer game but sent off the field by the specialty staff. It isn't her fault if she makes people nervous.

Still, she's the one by herself, perched on a rickety set of bleachers near archery that doesn't exactly build confidence in her. And from the top bench she can see Sarah Manning out of the corner of her eye, physically holding one of her children back from the arrows while trying to console another, something so wild and untethered despite the attempt to reign it in.

Of all the types of people Rachel expected to encounter at a summer camp she did not count on Sarah.

Little Miss Martha Stewart, of course. The resident pothead, yes. A French beauty? Not surprising. She'd even foreseen the likes of Paul and his unkempt cabin-mate Tony, who seems to choose not to shower. And yet something in her was so taken aback by Sarah Manning.

Even watching her now, pinning the bully child in place with a withering look, Rachel can't help but feel like some secret audience to a cleverly-written performance. While Sarah's moves aren't calculated or even considered she flows effortlessly, catching insults in midair and knowing exactly how to diffuse the situation.

It was for this reason Rachel had been tempted to call for her through their shared wall this morning, after watching her with the kids yesterday, to handle a fight that broke out over the one measly cabin shower.

In all honesty it was poor planning to build one shower for eleven people, and if there was room for four toilet stalls and a staff bedroom (if one can call it that, it's quite cramped) then surely there was enough space for a second shower. Nonetheless two of the girls were squabbling and all Rachel could do was stare helplessly, smoothing down her pyjama top, waiting for it to end. She'd relied on a child to solve the crisis, how embarrassing.

(She'd blame her father for sending her here if she was still twelve and held grudges like that, all emotional and disgusting. But she does admit she wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't forced her to apply.)

Of course it isn't as if she'd come here thinking she'd be great at this; her experience with children is limited to minor babysitting and a few cousins back in England, who only really seemed to like her as a villain for their imaginative games.

The idea of spending her entire summer with a group of children depending on her was something she'd initially laughed at, but her father's will is strong and somehow he always gets what he desires. Her mother used to say that was where Rachel gets it from, back when- when she was still alive, and still someone who noticed these things.

Rachel runs her hands down the front of her blouse and folds them tightly in her lap. Of all the days to be thinking of her mother.

In the distance she can still hear Sarah Manning trying to mend the wound between two of her girls, voice sharp and tired, and Rachel forces herself to concentrate on her own girls running across the field – their young faces free of worry, hair flying out behind them as if trying to race the wind.

Even the girl with the limp, the small one, Sahar. Rachel hadn't even thought she might not be able to participate with the way her body slants but seeing her chasing the ball with the other kids has Rachel feeling somewhat taken aback. She'd underestimated her.

Last night she'd watched Sahar change into her pyjamas with the rest of the girls, not even batting an eye at the slight difference of her body being potentially on display, mentioning she didn't grow properly inside her mother when it seemed as if no one else would bring it up.

"So half of me's a little shorter, and kinda crooked," she said with a big smile, tugging on her pyjama pants.

Marlow took this opportunity to show everyone the bruise-like birthmark snaking down her back and then Isabella Weaver popped her knee out of place and then back in for everyone to see and it turned into a sort of talent show of the oddities of their small ten year-old bodies. Rachel stood in the doorway of her room and watched, for twenty minutes, waiting for crude remarks that never came.

She'd wondered if prejudice had simply disappeared in a generation until this morning, when Sarah's troublemaker child, the Hispanic one with unkempt hair, started in on a girl who could have been her twin for her weight. As if eleven year-olds need worry about such things.

Maybe Sarah's right – the ten year-olds are significantly less drama, as Sarah put it.

Or maybe Sarah's simply one of those people who causes mayhem around her wherever she goes; some kind of hurricane that drenches anyone within a certain range.

All Rachel can tell for sure at this point is that Sarah isn't someone Rachel cares to be around. And that, unfortunately, it seems as if that's what the summer has in store for her. She's considering purchasing a rain poncho.

/

They return to their cabin after lunch for quiet hour, something Rachel finds charming until she's actually in the cabin with her ten rowdy girls. Apparently 'quiet' means tossing pillows and bedding aside to make a fort and shouting across the cabin about whatever strange bug they spotted on their way back when the cabin's small enough to hear a whisper.

Rachel half considers dealing with it, leaning against one of the dressers with disdain. But then Clementine (she loathes the name, but the girl isn't all that bad) pulls out a deck of cards and the chaos subsides a little.

"Anyone for Pig?" Clementine asks, waving the cards above her head.

Rachel leaves them as they form a circle on the ground and half shuts the door to her counselor's room, enough to overhear anything she might need to deal with but also maintain her privacy. Day two and she's already considering setting up a hammock on the shared cabin porch.

It isn't so much that she minds the closet of a room, consisting of a single bed, a side table squeezed in beside it, and a dresser on the opposite wall to supposedly hold her clothes. She's waiting to unpack until she can snag some wax paper from the mess hall to properly line the cedar drawers.

Of course, she could do without the round mirror above the dresser, which is angled just enough to be able to see herself lying down on her bed and unsettling in the middle of the night. Maybe for others it wouldn't be so unnerving to catch a glimpse of themselves when they aren't paying attention but Rachel can't stand to see any weakness in herself.

Her main concern about the room though, apart from the electrical outlet that was carelessly built under the bed and is nearly impossible to get to, is that thanks to the mirrored construction of the cabins she's very much aware of the wall she shares with Sarah Manning. And that, in the middle of the night, she can hear her snoring lightly and has to picture the girl curled up in her own bed, probably oblivious to the mirror that captures her sleeping form.

She runs her fingers over the uneven shared wall now, wondering if Sarah's in her room or out in the cabin still trying to play referee with her girls. No sounds filter through that let her know either way and she drops her hand to her side.

This is Sarah's second year, she knows. It isn't as if Rachel's been gossiping, but the other staff do talk and Rachel can't help if she overhears.

What she's learned so far from listening in mostly amounts to Sarah having slept with Paul far enough into last summer to know of his girlfriend Beth, who seems to be enjoying herself even less than Rachel. No one talks about Beth, Rachel's noted. Or if they do her little housewife Alison comes at them like an untethered pitbull.

If Sarah regrets her tryst with Paul it isn't something she's advertising, and Rachel really doesn't have time to concern herself with why Paul might have done that in the first place. A small part of her feels sorry for Sarah but every time that surfaces she buries it as fast as she can. Sex doesn't happen by accident; Sarah could have said no.

Her door opening startles her, making her sit down hard on her bed and give a cold look to the child that opened it. Evie.

"Yes?" Rachel demands.

Evie pulls a strand of dark hair into her mouth, sucking on it nervously. "I don't want to play Pig anymore but the other girls say I have to."

"Well that's just ridiculous," Rachel says. "No one can force you to do anything."

She picks a piece of lint off her shorts and expects Evie to go back out but when she looks up Evie is still standing there, small and squat like a potato, blinking and watching Rachel as if she hadn't just responded.

"Yes?" Rachel says again, agitated.

Evie pulls another chunk of hair into her mouth and Rachel resists the urge to yank the hair away from her. What a disgusting habit.

"But they say I have to," Evie emphasizes.

If a child could be constructed to annoy then this would be that child. Rachel sighs and stands up, smoothing out the bedspread where she'd been sitting to get rid of the wrinkles. She may be in the middle of the forest but that's no excuse for sloppiness.

"Well let's go then," Rachel says, ushering the potato child out of her room.

The girls have made a cramped circle in the middle of the cabin with only a few of them pressed up against bunk beds and it looks to be an entertaining game, with how the kids slap the cards against the ground next to them. The few who notice Rachel standing on the edge of the room look up nervously but it's only at Evie's taunting noise that all heads rise.

"We just didn't want her to ruin things," Sierra rushes out, knowing full well what Rachel's about to say.

Sierra's statement is backed up by the two girls sitting next to her, Julisa and Raniyah, both of whose names Rachel only remembers because Sierra's barked them out so much in ordering them around. She's made a mental note to keep an eye on that alliance, decidedly not down for any kind of echo of the drama in Sarah Manning's group.

Not that Sierra's anything like Quinn, with her skinny limbs and teeth far too large for her jaw. Rachel wouldn't call her ugly but she definitely has prominent features that will take some time to grow into. But it isn't Quinn's prettiness that has the venom on her tongue – Rachel knows enough about girls to know better than that. There's always a reason for lashing out.

If Rachel were a better person she'd tell that to Sarah, but then Sarah might pin that statement back on her and the lack of alcohol at camp really has Rachel not wanting to hash that out.

"How could Evie leaving possibly ruin things?" Rachel asks in a bored tone, desiring nothing more than to be back in her tiny room staring at the wall.

Sierra glances at Julisa and Raniyah but it's Isabella Chang who speaks up.

"If she goes we have to rearrange the entire game," she says, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Basically start over."

Rachel looks at the large analog clock ticking away above the door to the toilet. Twenty-five more minutes of quiet hour.

"The way I see it," she says, leaving her perch near the wall, "if the game isn't working then perhaps we should change the game."

A chorus of whining nooos break out, along with okay! We'll make it work. Rachel shrugs as she paces towards the circle, bending down carefully to grab the box for the cards and then straightening up with a wicked smile.

"Why don't we see how quickly we can get these cards back in the box," she tells them.

A single card shoots across the circle and slices her ankle. The offending child makes eye contact defiantly, a grin slowly forming on her face, hand still in position to have released the card. All the girls divide their attention between her and Rachel, whose eyebrow simply raises.

"Olivia," she says coolly. "It now seems like you'll be the only one playing. And be sure to come see me later when the toilets need cleaning."

Olivia's eyes darken but fear keeps her mouth shut.

Evie shifts towards Rachel as if concerned the blame for ending the game will be placed on her, so Rachel adds, "and everyone else- in your bunks reading in five minutes or you'll all be giving this place a good scrub."

There's a low murmur of complaints as the girls heave themselves up off the floor, returning pillows and bedding to their bunks, Olivia angrily snatching all the cards off the ground to put away in the box Rachel lets flutter back down. Marlow and Sahar even furtively straighten out their toiletries on the top of their shared dresser, as if Rachel might spot this and give them all another punishment.

Consequence, Rachel reminds herself. Punishment makes it sound like the Dark Ages.

"I'll be on the porch should you need me," Rachel says as she darts back into her room to grab a book.

The girls all watch her warily as she comes back out through the cabin and the noise level rises a little as she lets the screen door slam behind her, though not enough to warrant sticking her head back in for a warning. She has enough faith that they'll figure out it's in their best interest to listen to her.

Letting Sarah Manning dole out the rules was not a wise decision, Rachel notes as she takes a seat on one of the benches on her half of the porch.

It isn't too hot out, warm enough to be comfortable in her shorts, and as she opens her book to the bookmarked page she decides this might be the first time she's come close to enjoying herself – in solitude, away from the kids, not a soul in sight except for a small cloud of mosquitoes above one of the picnic tables.

It's quiet for a good ten minutes until one of Sarah's friends stops by, the white one with dreadlocks who no doubt enjoys herself a good blunt or two. The moment she spots Rachel tucked away on the broad porch she freezes, strange little skirt swishing around her. But then a smile breaks out across her face and she's waving and approaching before Rachel can think to disappear.

"Hey," she says warmly, hopping up the steps. "I'm Cosima. With the six year-olds. Well, not with them right now, obviously, they're with Delphine's kids right now, but, you know, generally with them."

"Of course," Rachel says in a toneless voice.

She doesn't get up or even close her book, but Cosima seems to take this as an invitation to join her anyway, dropping down on the bench beside her.

"Sarah hasn't really said much about you, but you're Rachel, right? First year?" Cosima asks.

Rachel wonders if there's a way to get up and leave without seeming rude. "Yes, that's right."

She's waiting for one of her children to come out and get her, another problem cropping up in the ten minutes she's been gone, but for once there's silence coming from inside and not even the wind has anything to say.

"Have you worked with kids before? You seem to know what to do to keep them quiet," Cosima says, motioning at the screen door.

A fly circles around Cosima's head and for a second Rachel wonders if something's died in there, left to decompose in the tangle of hair, but then it moves on and smacks aimlessly at the screen door until that too is deemed uninteresting enough to move on to Sarah's half of the porch.

"Yes," Rachel says again. She glances down at her open book, attempting to read at least a line while Cosima thinks up another question.

It's only as her eyes drift across the page that she realizes it's a lie, her having worked with kids before, and now Cosima sees her as someone who actually wants to be doing this and who applied herself. Horror seeps out and numbs her skin.

"I mean-" she says just as Sarah's door opens and Sarah comes tumbling out, hair a mess.

"Heeey," Sarah says with a big smile, Cosima getting up to hug her. "Hey, Rachel. You been getting to know Cos?"

"She has," Cosima answers for her, also smiling.

Rachel wonders if they know how to frown around each other. Probably, if they're good enough friends. But the way Sarah now keeps Cosima a good six inches away from her has Rachel thinking they might not be as good friends as Cosima believes. Certainly not close enough for Sarah to share any of her secrets with her.

And there's something Rachel can find admirable about Sarah: she knows enough to keep secrets to herself, if Rachel's intuition is correct.

"I'm impressed," Sarah's saying now. "Rachel, I thought you weren't here to make friends."

It's a teasing tone, only further annoying Rachel.

"I'm not a fan of social gatherings," Rachel says, which doesn't seem to help her case.

Sarah and Cosima glance at each other and crack up and Rachel's left feeling small on her little wooden bench. She isn't a fan of social gatherings, but that doesn't exactly seem to be what they're laughing about.

"Ookay there," Sarah says. Her smile slips a little and then she's clearing her throat and brushing hair out of her face, her movements wide and loose.

Rachel lets her hand slip down to smooth out a crease in her shorts, focusing on getting out any remainder of the fold.

"Um," Cosima says, shifting her weight, "well I just stopped by to let Sarah know we're thinking of having a little campfire tonight, just the staff."

"Is that allowed?" Rachel asks, silently scolding herself for the childish edge to her voice.

Cosima laughs. "Well, the director looks the other way. No biggie. I'd invite you, but seeing as you don't like social things..."

She looks over again to Sarah as if this is some joke between them and Sarah manages a smile in return, suddenly a full foot away from Cosima and a hand on the cabin wall to brace herself. For what Rachel doesn't know.

"Yeah, no, invite her anyway," Sarah says, frowning a little. "She might surprise us all and say yes one day, you never know."

"Oh I wasn't trying to be rude," Cosima apologizes, hands flying everywhere. It's a bit mesmerizing.

Rachel shuts her book and gives them both a harmless enough smile as she stands up. "I am not someone who appreciates pity invites," she says. "And it was nice to meet you, Cosima."

With that she pushes past them and heads back into her cabin, letting the screen door slam again behind her and startling all ten girls who are in their bunks reading. She can hear Sarah and Cosima saying something out on the porch, no doubt about her, but she chooses not to listen. She'd meant what she said about making friends; all she promised her father was that she'd stay until the end of the summer. He didn't ask her to play nice.

But then again maybe he should have, she considers as her girls glance up at her fearfully.

Maybe he should have taught her how to when she was still small and stupid enough to learn.

/

Rachel is dragged to the arts and crafts cabin after quiet hour by her group of girls, who are so excited to glue pieces of paper to other pieces of paper that they end up running half the way there and leaving Rachel behind to kick up clouds of dry dirt. Surely the camp could afford to seed all the grassless stretches.

When she gets there, no doubt a dust cloud herself, her girls are dispersed at two tables with another group – Alison's, who eyes Rachel with as much disdain as Rachel feels for this whole experience as she tries to slip in quietly.

Only Clementine seems to notice Rachel come in, her head of dark curls bouncing as she quickly looks away.

Alison rushes over as soon as the door shuts and gives a sharp wave to the art specialist waiting at the front. "Now that we're all here, Emily, why don't you begin."

Emily has a spread of craft supplies on the table in front of her and a smile so bright Rachel wishes she brought sunglasses but the children have their eyes trained on her, eagerly awaiting her instructions. If Rachel wanted to hear them herself she's out of luck as Alison pinches her sleeve and drags her into a corner to whisper harshly at her.

"Irresponsibility is not tolerated here," Alison starts, her eyes cold and beady like an angered bird of prey.

Rachel's starting to understand why no one talks about Beth.

"Of course," Rachel says.

Her girls are already uncapping their glue bottles at the table and no one seems to be concerned by the mess that's about to happen but Alison refuses to let her attention drift.

"Excuse me," she says, tapping Rachel's arm. "But I don't think you understand. How is it to look when your children show up without you?! Just running willy-nilly, no one to keep them from tearing the place apart. Lucky I was here to seat them. Of course this is your first year, I know, and we're supposed to be tolerant."

Kind was the word the director used, Rachel remembers. Considerate.

She purses her lips and attempts to look properly admonished, really not wanting to have Alison coming at her like this for the entire summer.

"Well," she says, "they did run ahead."

Alison's cheeks are pink. Whether it's anger or exhaustion from whispering so fiercely Rachel can't tell, but backed into a corner it's a sure sign she isn't going to win this.

"I'm sure you'd say the same thing if they all ran into the lake and drowned," Alison says before whipping around and heading back over to her side of the room.

Rachel isn't going to follow her but she would, selfishly, like to point out that every child here is able to swim and the lake is never without a lifeguard during daylight hours. Still, she sees the point. If her children run again it had better be towards Alison, and with weapons.

She slowly shifts out of the corner and makes her way across the perimeter of the room, taking in the cupboards and open shelving of every type of art supply available. It seems wasteful to be making crafts that will just get thrown out at home, but all the girls are hunched over small piles of popsicle sticks as if there's nowhere else they'd like to be and Rachel can't fault them for their lack of foresight.

On the other side of the room Alison stares intently at the art specialist, Emily, who's doing nothing more than supervising the disaster playing out on the tables in front of her. It seems as if Alison's waiting for a slip-up or for that smile to falter and it must be such an exhausting way to live life, needing to be the one to monitor everything in case something should go wrong.

She wonders how exactly Alison came to be Beth's; if Beth had a choice in the matter or if Alison just decided one day to care for her, and each day following Beth simply put up with it.

It doesn't seem from watching her that Beth could want Alison around – but then Rachel doesn't truly know Beth either, only guessing at the cause of the hollowness of her expression, and maybe Alison feels things twice as much for the both of them. If it's symbiosis Rachel has to wonder what Alison gains from this.

(Especially, she notes as Alison rewraps a spool of fishing line, with Beth so firmly planted in her distant relationship with Paul. Alison must know nothing will ever come of her wanting.)

The last thing she wants is to be caught staring at Alison when the girl is a grenade ready to go off so she busies herself with a shelf of construction paper, spending the whole arts and crafts period lining up the different colors so perfectly they all look like solid rectangular blocks. Sahar comments on it as they're putting their structures in the window to dry; a little acknowledgment that it looks a whole lot better.

If Alison notices she doesn't mention it. Her girls are lined up at the door and ready to go as the gong sounds in the distance, signaling an activity change, and the group filters out the door so calmly it's as if they practiced. Rachel just lumps her girls together and directs them to start walking to the archery fields and as they all bump into each other and chatter she wishes she'd agreed to any other job than this.

The only thing worse than being a camp counselor is knowing she's doing a mediocre job of it. And now, knowing Alison knows as well.

It weighs on her the entire time her kids are supposedly learning the lost art of archery, essentially shooting at each other with flimsy arrows and ignoring the specialist's instructions. Of course she could step in and help but it isn't as if she's being paid the specialist rate to teach the activity, so she stands to the side with a grumpy Evie and wishes she cared enough to try to be better.

"Am I-" terrible, she goes to ask, after a stretch of silence without Evie's sighs, but the girl stares up at her with hair in her mouth and Rachel tells her to never mind.

The last thing she needs is to start asking others their opinion of her, and children at that. When she cares what they think she'll truly have lost it.

/

Sarah spends her afternoon fielding insults from Quinn, who, apart from making Daniela cry three separate times in two hours, has now decided Sarah is her new target.

It wasn't so bad when the kids were swimming and Sarah laid out to tan on the dock, taking Delphine's advice from last year to never get in the water unless the lifeguards absolutely insist, but then Paul saw the opportunity to join her and instead of snide remarks of how wide her hips are and the stress zit that's trying to form on her chin she had to deal with Paul.

The second he sat down next to hear she instantly regretted wearing a bikini. Even a diving suit would have felt too revealing, but his gaze dragged down her bare skin to the chipped black paint on her toenails and she had to resist the urge to scrub his slime off of her. As if just by breathing his air she was poisoning herself.

"You're fully capable of fucking off," she told him, shielding her eyes with an arm so she didn't have to look at him, but his laugh seeped in anyway.

Ten minutes in she wrapped herself in a towel and stood angrily by the lifeguard's chair, not caring to learn the poor kid's name but listening to him rattle on about all his training just to make the time pass quicker. (And, honestly, to see the look on Paul's face as he watched her smile at another guy.)

Her luck has only improved since, with Quinn catching the moment between her and Paul on the dock and latching on with a vice grip. All through soccer, all through a quick game of Octopus, all through this crappy hike in the woods. She definitely assigned partners but somehow Quinn is at her side, making kissing noises and occasionally tripping over rogue roots.

At least it isn't Daniela. The girl seems to even be relaxing a little, at the back with Madeleine and the cousins. Anything that breaks Quinn's focus from her is worth it, even if it means wearing the target for however long this continues.

Which won't be much longer with how Quinn's carrying on. Sarah has resisted the urge to slap her so far, but her long-winded narration of whatever she imagines taking place between Sarah and Paul is getting borderline explicit and Sarah has had enough.

"Okay," she grunts, putting a hand over Quinn's mouth.

Everyone sort of stumbles a little as they take in the crude action but nobody manages to fall.

Sarah recoils as Quinn licks her palm, snatching her hand back and wiping it on her shorts with a grimace. "That's disgusting," she tells her.

Quinn's dark eyes flash.

"So are you and-"

"Yeah?" Sarah interrupts. "Well I don't wanna hear it."

"Well if you didn't want to hear it why'd you do it?" Quinn provokes, her sneer wide even as she trips over a rock and has to grab onto Sarah's side to stay upright.

It isn't even too hot to complain about being forced to hike, but Sarah's covered in sweat and has dirt steaks up her legs and with Quinn clutching her shirt with her little claws it's just too much.

She stops.

And the girls all stop behind her, bumping into each other, but more or less still standing.

"Another mushroom?" Sameera asks, trying to peer around the group.

Sarah takes in a deep breath and stares up at the canopy of green above her, ignoring the voices for one bloody second of relief. Then she comes back to earth and pries Quinn's hands off her and drops down into the dirt like her main goal was to bring them up here to sit.

The girls stare at her before a couple of them sit down as well.

"My legs hurt," Ava says, taking a seat in the dry leaves and dirt.

"I'm tired," Zohal agrees as she joins her.

Most of them are sitting before Quinn finally speaks again, and this time it's in a quiet voice as if Sarah's taken the fight out of her. "You're crazy," she says.

Sarah nods and pats the ground next to her. "Side effect of hanging around you. Come on, sit."

Quinn relents and sits down and Sophia and Raya finally sit as well. The whole group is cross-legged in the dirt, backpacks still on like a pack of sweaty turtles. If Sarah had any energy left she might whip out her camera to capture this awful moment.

To her surprise none of them ask why they've stopped in the middle of their hike to sit in the path, instead just quieting down enough so that all they hear is birds hidden away in the trees and the soft rustle of a breeze slipping through the forest. It's the closest to nature Sarah's felt in a while, being from the city, and she shuts her eyes to take it all in: the slight pant of their breathing, the distant bird calls, the cicadas that she hadn't noticed until now.

"When I was little I used to think that sound was sunlight," Sarah says of the hum, and the kids listen until they hear what she's talking about.

"What is it?" Quinn asks.

Madeleine answers for her in the first pleasant interaction Quinn's had with another kid all day and Sarah contemplates staying in the forest forever.

"Can we play Eye Spy?" Afsheen asks, looking up at the trees.

From where they sit nearly everything looks green, glowing so brightly against the dark dampness of the forest floor it's almost neon. Sarah can't imagine what they could find in here to actually guess at but says "go ahead" nonetheless, happy to rest for a bit and to not have to pretend to know what kind of animal poop they've spotted by a tree.

The game lasts for about fifteen minutes, everyone quickly growing tired of the color green, but in that time Sarah sits next to Quinn and tries to remind herself of all her good qualities.

There was a reason Sarah hoped she came back this year – it's only as Quinn withdraws from the game and lets her head rest against her knees that Sarah remembers why. She'd seemed like a puzzle last year, some kind of bomb whose explosion could be avoided if anyone figured out what built her. Sarah only really saw her in passing, but figured, with her own turbulent childhood, she might stand a chance at getting closer to the core of it.

And now with Quinn sitting next to her, walls down for just a moment, Sarah decides there must be a reason she's Quinn's latest target. Maybe it's like trying to fight herself.

She reaches out and brushes a knot back into place in the rest of Quinn's tangle of hair, ignoring the look Quinn gives her as she peeks up from her knees. Her hand lingers on Quinn's forehead and she thumbs the skin a bit, just appreciating this rare softness to her face; the lack of anger making her hard.

"What?" Quinn whispers, still hugging her knees and looking incredibly small in the dirt.

Sarah gives Quinn's cheek a little pat. "You're not a bad kid, you know."

It's brief, the second of gratitude on Quinn's face before someone shouts out a guess and Quinn buries herself in armor. Sarah tries to cling to it as Quinn sours.

"You think I've never heard that before?" Quinn says, standing up and brushing herself off. "I'm awesome."

Sophia's head raises. "Are we going?"

Naomi and Raya stand up, wobbling a bit with their backpacks and wiping the dirt from their bare legs and Sarah relents that the moment of peace is over. She motions for everyone else to get up and heaves herself upright, wishing nothing more than to be back in her bed, door shut, pretending she can't hear their whispering or the weird pacing of Rachel through the shared cabin wall.

"Come on, meatheads," she says as she rubs at her eyes. "We'll hike back and see if there's time to get cleaned up before dinner."

Afsheen and Daniela are busy poking each other teasingly but the rest of the girls are more or less getting back in their clump, Madeleine dutifully herding them from the back. It isn't as if Sarah demanded straight lines or anything when she started out but she does like to pretend she's kind of organized, so seeing them get their shit together without her prompting feels pretty good; like despite Quinn's antics it might not be the summer of hell she'd conceded to having.

As she tightens the consistently looser strap of her backpack, some crappy little thing her foster mum has apparently had since the eighties, Quinn gently bumps into her arm.

"I've abandoned my partner," she says as if Sarah hadn't already figured this out.

Sarah pulls the strap back over her shoulder like this might ready her for hiking all the way back. "I know, Quinn."

In all honesty she'd envisioned more of a feel-good nature walk when she planned her counselor-led activity for the day, just putting the word 'hike' on paper to make it seem more legit. If she'd remembered about the incline of this certain path she would have decided on canoeing (watching her kids flip without helping them for forty minutes) or some bullshit like jewelry-making.

She's pretty sure Alison booked the art cabin for this activity block though anyway, hell-bent on teaching her eight year-olds the lost art of macramé.

Quinn nudges her arm again now, her hair somehow even messier than five minutes ago. "She's in good hands though," Quinn promises. "I left her with Raya and Naomi."

Sarah glances back to what's slowly looking like two lines, where Ava is sure enough with Raya and Naomi, looking relieved to be free from her assigned partner. At her look Madeleine physically starts to move people into place with the exact Day Two exasperation Sarah's been feeling since the bugle sounded this morning.

"So I can be your partner," Quinn says, and Sarah notices she's latched on to her arm.

"Yeah, sure." It's no use fighting it at this point.

Either Quinn's going to use the whole hike back to taunt her about Paul or she'll finally learn to be quiet, which is almost more unsettling. Both cases Sarah ends up paying more attention to the kid beside her than where her feet are landing. Both cases she'll probably end up falling before they make it back to camp.

"Got everything?" she asks the group, who call back an unconvincing yes.

Whatever. If they leave their shit here, they'll learn how quickly a person gets over loss.

She leads her stumbling, non-athletic group back down through the tangle of roots and rocks, her own feet slipping carelessly over piles of dry leaves. God forbid she ever have to do this after a rainstorm. It'd be like a giant, muddy slip-n-slide.

One of the girls in the back starts singing a campfire song, something about the Titanic, and within minutes the whole group behind her has joined in. She'll never understand what's so appealing about group singing but so long as they're happy she's not going to stop it. And even Quinn, so snug against Sarah's side her arm is slick with sweat, seems to be humming along a little.

She feels like capturing the moment to send to Cosima later, to finally have proof that Quinn's not the demonic force they've all seemed to paint her as.

Maybe a little evil, but Sarah probably wasn't too far off at eleven either. She should ask Mrs. S.

All she really remembers about that age is that Mrs. S seemed to care enough about her to legitimize her guardianship that year in the spring, which mostly felt like a slap in the face when Mrs. S said it was needed to move to Canada the year after. And the hot, simmering anger that's been with her as long as she can think back. And sometimes, if she concentrates hard enough, she can conjure up the scent of the tiny flat they were living in at that time – cigarettes and cabbage, and a damp mustiness they never quite got rid of.

If they'd had enough to send her to a summer camp back then she probably would have given Quinn a run for her money, with how frustrated she still was with so much of her life. Maybe it's for the best she never hung out with many kids.

This time last year she was stumbling through this same forest, ankles bloody from kicking up sticks, chasing her kids in what Paul thought would be a great game of Manhunt until the gong sounded for dinner. Different kids of course, but the same chilled feeling of needing to compare and contrast her own life to the laughing screaming kids surrounding her. As if locating that divide between them will somehow mend the chasm in herself, and she'll be a better counselor for it, and they won't always make her think the worst.

Not all of them come from dark pasts, Delphine reminded her last year.

But it still seems like it, the sun cutting deep through the trees as it tries to sink into the lake. She's a full year ahead and still finds herself rolling the thought around on her tongue like a splintering glass marble, leading them back to the cabin, just waiting for a shard to draw blood.

It's only as they're washing up for dinner in a sweaty haze that she finds dried beads of blood along her ankles where anything could have grabbed her this time.

/

One of the shittier parts of camp always seems to be the food, tonight's meatloaf no exception despite Madeleine's futile attempt to salt and pepper some life back into it. But they've all managed to evenly space themselves out at the table this evening, something Sarah almost wishes hadn't happened with little elbows finding her sides every time the conversation rises up in excitement. Even Quinn seems a little more docile from her spot at the end of the bench.

The rest of the hall is equally animated – and yet Paul and Tony somehow cut through the noise with their banter from the other side of the room, as boisterous as their kids. If Sarah put in earplugs she could probably still hear it.

Naomi's been watching her since Quinn started in on her with the Paul shit, still eyeing her occasionally every time Paul's voice filters over to their table. She'd tell her it's nothing if she could manage to convince herself. Her girls aren't stupid, obviously picking up on Paul's flattery and wandering hands. She just has to hope they aren't taking this in as something to want from a boy.

She's been surveying the room to keep an eye on things in an attempt to force her thoughts elsewhere, eager to get away from Paul and the lumpy meatloaf. Even with mashed potatoes it's a strange paste.

Delphine waves every so often until Cosima gets there, the two of them huddled on the bench as if parents of their twenty tiny kids. The boys are all piled together on the one side of the room, Rudy and Seth doing their best to keep their kids quiet as Paul and Tony wind them all up, little bits of food flying across the tables that no one seems to notice. Beth is... present. Hands folded in her lap, Alison talking vigorously beside her as their girls chatter away. A few of them are singing a song Sarah doesn't recognize and she dreads having to lead any activity with Alison this summer, knowing she'll come away from it with a dozen new songs stuck in her head.

She glances back to Beth one last time before turning back to her table, wishing staring at her every day was enough for Beth to know she's sorry, wanting to pull her outside for a conversation she's not brave enough to have.

He made me feel a little less lonely. Now he makes me nauseous and I don't know how you stand it.

She accidentally catches Quinn's eye, unable to look away before Quinn notices the unguarded guilt on her face. All she gets is a weird quirk of the eyebrows and then Quinn's back to poking at her meatloaf but it still sits hard in Sarah's throat.

She needs to get her shit together before it starts affecting her kids.

The worst she could do would be drag them into this.

A sudden swell of laughter from the other end of the table draws her attention to Rachel's group, where Rachel has somehow put smiles on all the kids' faces and is either a magician or knows a truly impressive joke the way they're beaming at her. Maybe she's just one of those people who does better with kids than people their own age, Sarah decides.

All she knows is that she's not looking to start another fight at camp, too tired already from what she accidentally did to Beth (and by proxy, Alison) to intentionally burn anything with Rachel. If the girl doesn't want to hang out with the rest of the staff then that's on her; Sarah will keep inviting her as long as it's still polite and no one can fault her for it. She'll even put up with Rachel's imploring remarks about Paul, knowing she'll hear enough soon anyway to satiate her curiosity and move on to something more interesting. Something happening this summer, even.

She smiles when Rachel looks her way and takes a tiny bit of pride in the fraction of surprise she catches in Rachel's eyes – as if Rachel was looking for the same cold front in return, not knowing what to do with kindness.

This is a game Sarah can play. This kind of manipulation is what she does best.

She forgets about it during the rest of dinner, with Quinn refueling and targeting Raya this time instead, decidedly not a fan of the little braids she wears in her hair and making this known to the group. Another meal, another catfight. But Raya seems to almost be expecting it and simply ignores it, shifting a little towards Daniela to carry on her conversation, and despite a few more attempts from Quinn to keep the tirade going it dies out by the time Sarah's walking them over to the rec hall for movie night.

One might even call her girls friendly as they laugh with each other in the encroaching dusk, swatting away mosquitoes and running ahead of Sarah in a way Alison would totally chastise.

But she lets them anyway, choosing instead to breathe in the humid July air and follow behind them like an ageing sheepdog, an eye on everyone but also removed enough to let them feel some sort of independence. The rec hall isn't too far a walk. Just down the path from the cabins, edging on the forest but still enough in a clearing to not need flashlights.

She catches up with them as the grass starts up again, hopping up the creaky wooden steps to the hall to grab the screen door from Naomi. All the groups are filtering over here to watch some sappy kids movie before bed so she'll no doubt run into Alison at some point. Better at at least look like she's trying.

"Can I sit with my brother?" Naomi asks after Sarah thanks her for holding the door.

Paul has his boys up against the side of the room, the lot of them taller than everyone else by a head and yet somehow still small in Paul's presence. She hates how he only knows how to dwarf people. Naomi's brother Nate seems to be one of the quieter kids, actually sitting down, another quiet boy with him, and Sarah's sure the groups will get all mixed up as soon as the movie starts anyway.

"Yeah, I don't see why not," she says, smiling back as Naomi grins at her.

Naomi glances over at where the rest of their group's converging at an open spot of floor, too close to Beth's group for Sarah's liking. The big hall suddenly feels a whole lot smaller.

"Can I bring Raya?" Naomi asks.

Raya trots over at hearing her name and Sarah laughs. "Yeah, of course," she says. "Enjoy yourselves."

Naomi practically drags Raya to the other side of the room, her brother's face lighting up as she drops down to sit with him and his friend. Sarah had forgotten how much they resemble each other until seeing them together again – they somehow even move the same. She wonders if Helena moves at all like her.

"The rest of you can sit where you want," she tells her remaining girls, but they all seem content to just sit where they've been standing on the edge of Beth's group.

Sarah catches a glimpse of Beth's dark bun and instantly stills, expecting someone to shout at her from somewhere. Obviously unrealistic but she's been having Alison nightmares ever since they parted ways last summer.

Beth comes over to her almost by accident, her movements so subtle Sarah hardly realizes they're standing next to each other until Beth's fingers graze her arm. Then they just stand there and survey their girls and Sarah doesn't notice she's listening to Beth's soft breathing even with the din of the room until it stops. And Beth glances over at her, and Sarah's stomach twists.

"I didn't know if you'd come back," Beth says, almost a murmur.

Out of the corner of her eye Sarah's scanning the room for Alison, who either isn't here yet or is behind her with a knife just waiting for her to mess up.

It's the first time Beth's talked to her since last summer, not even giving her a word when they were paired up for a trust exercise during orientation week that they both buggered up (by accident or on purpose she's still not sure), and it's surreal; the kind of thing she pictured a thousand times after the summer ended, never once coming up with a decent way to handle it.

"Well," she says stupidly, feeling Beth tense up beside her, "you know, it's hard to stay away."

It's possibly the worst thing she could have said. Quinn pops up from the group as if she might come over with a complaint to save Sarah and it's the only time Sarah's ever looked forward to her whining but then she's back down again, apparently only needing to see what's happening.

Beth finally chuckles a little and shakes her head. "You've got that right."

Sarah manages a smile and even turns to see more than just half of Beth's face, not taking in until now how pretty she is under the exhaustion. Paul obviously has a type.

She considers just drifting away and pretending to chat up literally anyone else in here, maybe even one of the sports specialists who's trying to set up the projector, but Beth lets out a soft breath and Sarah just can't.

"Does it bother you that they still talk about it?" she asks, her ears burning as she speaks.

Beth tilts her head, maybe watching one of her girls or maybe listening for the creak of Alison behind them ready to pounce. Then she smiles, somehow even sadder than Sarah could imagine.

"Does it bother you?"

Sarah's tongue is suddenly too big for her mouth and she didn't have a real answer anyway, probably something pathetic and too nice and pandering to what she knows Beth doesn't want, but Alison finally does appear (late, with one of her girls bandaged up) and practically snatches Beth away and Sarah's left standing on her own as Alison snakes her arm through Beth's where Sarah had just been.

Maybe she's trying to cleanse her or something. Like Sarah's a poison.

She takes a seat on one of the tiny benches at the back of the room, knowing as the lights dim that she won't be able to see a thing but really not caring about A Bug's Life. Twenty minutes into it she's joined by Rachel, who, in the dark, is almost comforting, and nothing makes sense anymore.

/

Back when Sarah was young, she and Felix would play a game in the park near their flat that essentially consisted of them pretending to be lost in the woods and confronting great dangers. In retrospect it was a decent way for two foster kids to deal with some of the helplessness they felt in the system, Mrs. S always sipping tea on a bench nearby. But every time she walks through the forest at camp she can't help thinking about it – how convinced they were that monsters lurked in the shadows, and that they alone could defeat them.

Last year about a few weeks in she called Fe and asked if he remembered, and of course he did but she couldn't convey the exact reason she needed to tell him and it just sounded stupid. Like she was trying to hold onto something they clearly didn't need any more.

Maybe he's learned to compartmentalize these things better than she has; maybe at thirteen it doesn't matter, that they were once small and scared and trying desperately to deal with that.

She's thinking about it all again tonight, loudly making her way through the forest to get to the campfire, her girls all in bed, knowing full well an easy path could take her straight to the fire pit but for some reason in the woods despite that. She'd walked her girls back along the edge of the forest as well when the movie was over, just needing to confront it. To see that... maybe to see that it didn't really matter if it was empty or not.

Most of her would much rather be in her bed right now, ignoring the sounds of Rachel's fucked up little bedtime routine through the wall. But she told Cosima she'd come to the fire and someone always has alcohol (although realistically she could always just drink her own back at the cabin, having enough to last her probably two summers here) and after making a big show of inviting Rachel she'd be a flake to not show up herself. The last person she expects to see at the campfire is Rachel anyway, but on the off chance that Rachel decides to surprise everyone she wants to be there. To at least see.

A sudden cracking noise from somewhere closer to the path makes her jump, skin crawling with how much it sounds like footsteps.

Obviously she knows it isn't any of the monsters she and Felix imagined when they were kids (maybe she should have brought it up when she called him tonight though, just to hear him laugh about it) but the sound grows steadily closer until she can see a form in the light from the distant mess hall and her throat constricts.

It's- bloody Rachel?

She nearly laughs but instead hangs on to the side of a tree to stay hidden. Not like Rachel could see her in the darkness anyway, wearing all black and a probably tangible cloud of bug spray.

Rachel's in what looks like a pyjama set, something shiny and white, and not at all heading in the direction of the campfire but straight for the mess hall – if Sarah didn't know any better she'd say she was breaking in. Or, walking in. They don't exactly lock it in case the supervisory staff want anything.

She holds her breath until Rachel's small form has disappeared into the door, gone into the light.

Maybe the girl has some secret food habits she doesn't want to share, or has learned she can't exist on coffee and dry toast alone. (Sarah did not miss the way Rachel's plate was devoid of meatloaf or mashed potatoes – just a sad piece of what they called garlic bread and some steamed broccoli.)

Sarah smacks her flashlight against her leg to try and get the weak beam a little brighter and then goes on towards the fire, not needing to dwell on this as well.

It's a pretty decent turnout tonight; some of the counselors from the senior camp, housing the twelve-to-fifteen year olds, came down through the hills everyone calls The Mountains, Sarah's favorite bubbly drunk Krystal already pouring what looks to be champagne. Shay, the eccentric blonde Cosima's admitted to crushing on a few years back, is giving out massages across one of the logs and Sarah knows she doesn't have to look far to find Cosima and Delphine.

They're on one of the half-log benches behind the big logs, under an unnecessary blanket watching Shay with varied expressions. Cosima must have told Delphine about her crush but Sarah's not sure she's taking it as pleasantly as she's pretending.

"There's the woman of the hour," Paul cries out as Sarah half emerges from the shadows.

The crowd looks up, Sarah trying to mask her grimace as a smile as Paul comes over. Krystal waves with a drink in her hand like they've never helped each other vomit before and Delphine rises slightly in case Sarah needs assistance. She gives her an appreciative nod as she swerves away from Paul's open arms.

"Yeah, got a bit caught up in some kid drama," she excuses, running a hand through her hair and joining some of the other guys on a log.

It's the only spot she can guarantee Paul won't follow, being flanked by the brothers and that weird rockabilly guy from the senior camp. Still, he brings her a drink a second later, his gestures wide to show her he means no harm.

She'd like to show him how much harm she means.

He goes back to where he and Tony are constructing some sort of stick house with kindling, close enough to the fire to be a concern to anyone sober, but if the quiet Christian girl from the senior camp who mainly comes to take care of Krystal (and sometimes flirt with Mark) isn't concerned then Sarah's not going to bother herself with it. Besides, the more they're focused on their sticks the less she has to worry he'll go and say something stupid to make it all worse.

Probably the only saving grace of these fires is that Beth rarely shows up anymore, Alison even less. Sarah can't imagine what she'd do if Paul even breathed near her with Alison watching.

Beth used to be a staple at these things, according to Cosima, back when she and Paul were in their honeymoon phase and everyone was seriously convinced they'd get engaged as soon as Beth hit eighteen. But then she just... lost it, a little, Cosima called it. Disappeared into herself in a way they hadn't seen before, something much more than her bouts of withdrawal they were all kind of used to.

Sarah's first campfire she'd watched Beth sit quietly at Paul's side, like a bag he was afraid to set down, while he played guitar and downed beers and talked to nearly everyone but his girlfriend.

A few beers in Sarah tried to approach Beth to ask if she was okay or something (she just remembers needing to check in with her, not really understanding it) but Paul stepped in between them – literally separated the two of them, and Beth didn't say a word when his hand crept down Sarah's back. Sarah wanted to say something then.

Tell him it's not okay. Or tell me to stay away from him, anything she's learned to expect from the girls who hang around guys who want her.

Beth looked away. And then the next campfire she sat with Art, and the next one Sarah didn't see her at all.

"Is everything all right?" Delphine's standing beside her now, looking down at her with a plastic cup in her hand.

The brothers are gone and the log beside her is empty and she wonders when that happened.

"M'good," she swears. The little gesture with her own cup doesn't go too well, but she's only drunk about half of it so she can't even blame it on the alcohol.

Delphine frowns at the response but then the smoke blows in their direction and whatever she was going to say is eaten up by the dark plumes.

"I hate white rabbits," Cosima says as she comes up behind Delphine with something that clearly isn't champagne.

Delphine smiles and dips her head, effortlessly letting Cosima into her side. "You know I hate that expression. It makes no sense to me."

Sarah can definitely remember hearing Shay say it at some point, maybe last year right around the time she was holding back Krystal's hair in the mouth of the woods and trying to drunkenly encourage the vodka vomiting without losing it herself.

She tries to bite back a grin as Cosima surreptitiously sneaks a glance at the massage log.

"Yeah, it's a little..." Cosima does a funky hand gesture, spraying Sarah's bare legs with her drink in the process. "Oh shit, Sarah, I'm so sorry, let me-"

And then she's squatting down trying to wipe it off with the sleeve of her flimsy cardigan, which is essentially sheer and non-absorbent. Rum, Sarah realizes, by the smell. Someone's been holding out. Delphine joins the clean up as well, this time providing the blanket they were sitting under before and sort of wrapping Sarah's legs in it once they're dry.

It's not really cold, and they aren't really drunk, but Sarah appreciates it anyway.

Sometimes going through the motions makes her feel better.

"You know I saw Rachel on my way here," she starts to say as the girls sit down with her, but then they're saying something to each other that she doesn't catch and neither of them hear her.

She's not sure what they'd say about that anyway; Cosima thinks Rachel needs to be taken down a peg, based on their one meeting, and Delphine, while not yet having the joy of a real conversation has done some observing, believes she isn't suited for the camp environment and it's a matter of time before she cracks.

Which, yeah, to both of them. But Sarah also saw the way Rachel faltered when she and Cosima were laughing at the social gathering comment and maybe it's more than this. Or just something else.

In a weird, backwards and fucked up way she kind of reminds Sarah of Beth. But that's not something she can share. Not when everyone seems to believe Sarah only fucked Paul to hurt Beth, like any of that was a planned action. They'd just hear that she thinks Beth's a cold bitch as well and completely write her off.

God, the last thing Paul was is planned. She'd promised– well, not really her family but herself, that she'd stay boy-free that summer. No drama. No repeats of the same destructive patterns that have been plaguing her for years.

"There's no one there like Vic, yeah?" Felix had asked the very first time she phoned home.

She'd sworn on her life. Crossed her heart. And Felix sounded relieved, to not have to worry about that for once. To know she was safe.

But Paul isn't Vic and she hates herself for the comparison. He's a dick, a cheating bastard, but he couldn't even come halfway to where Vic left her the first time – the bruises, and the record, and Mrs. S losing even more trust in her. As if she chose that. No, Paul isn't anything like Vic.

He's just another thing for Sarah to regret, this one with the sad face of a girl who didn't deserve it. And Sarah doesn't know how to swallow that away.

She doesn't even finish her second drink tonight; nearly everyone else is at least tipsy, a few (Krystal, Rudy) drunk despite it being the first campfire of the summer. There's something about sitting on the slightly damp log without seeing Beth's face through the fire that has her stomach churning and when half the group leaves and Paul's still there she's glad she's sober.

Delphine and Cosima have disappeared into the forest by the time he finally makes his way over, her half of the campfire disappointingly empty.

"Look," he says, sitting down beside her, a surprising space between them.

He doesn't add anything for a while though, just staring out at the fire like maybe the words are burning before him; ash and char where everyone's been tossing newspaper, all wanting to feel powerful enough to make something catch.

Sometimes it's nice being with him. She doesn't admit it when she thinks about the rest of it, but in the quiet moments, in the moments without Beth or his hands on her or anything outside of it, he isn't the antagonist she's made him up to be in her mind. He's just a guy trying to connect with someone who might actually look back at him.

"You didn't have to do anything if you didn't want to," he says after a long while.

They're the only two on this half of the fire. She can hear Krystal laughing somewhere but can't see through the smoke or growing flame.

She picks at a loose thread on her black cutoffs, hoping it all just unravels. "I know," she says. Her voice is hoarse.

She blames it on the smoke.

He exhales, then takes a long sip of beer, and then his eyes are on her in a way she isn't used to.

"I still- I still love her," he says. He stops looking at her.

She glances over and he's suddenly just a boy – small and tired, the fire's reflection making his eyes resemble liquid gold. If she's supposed to feel sorry for him she won't, but he still seems so young.

"Yeah, well, funny way of showing it," she tells him.

Her pulse is quickening, either the alcohol hitting her or a combination of sitting near Paul with a giant fire in front of them that she could easily toss him into. She's angry again and she hates that it makes her feel like crying.

He doesn't say anything when she stands up, tossing the blanket over her shoulder with a waft of rum and Delphine's soft perfume. She could leave him at the fire for someone else to throw in. Let Alison know he's hers for the taking (and really, why Alison hasn't come after him yet is a mystery). (Or maybe it isn't but Sarah won't be the one to say it.) Just disappear and let this be the end of it, but for some reason she turns back to him.

"You know," she says, hating the gentle way he looks at her, "Beth didn't ask for any of this. And with whatever she's going through, I don't know why you'd want to make it worse."

It's enough to make the churning of her stomach subside a little, enough to walk away.

She spies him still sitting on the log as she says goodbye to an affectionate Krystal, who pulls her down for a hug and sloppy kiss on the corner of the mouth, thanking her for coming out like this is one of Krystal's no-doubt blowout parties back home. If Paul wants her sympathy he can pry it from her cold, dead hands. He may not be like Vic in most senses, but he still knows how to hurt someone he's supposed to love.

/

It's nearly too late for Rachel to get in two full sleep cycles before the morning bugle goes but she sits at the edge of the forest anyway, close enough to see the doors to the cabin should anything happen but still able to smoke in privacy.

It's arguably her worst habit, she knows. This includes an ant farm that's now a graveyard and thinking about her mother.

At its heart it's the contrast between the dirty habit and the cold, clean exterior she maintains that makes it so enjoyable, knowing that should anyone catch a glimpse of her with a cigarette between her poised fingers they would be taken aback at someone like her doing such a disgusting thing.

She'd used it as a reason why she shouldn't apply for this job when her father was first insisting, thinking at the very least he'd be horrified to know his precious daughter was a smoker and have to confront that, but he'd had words with the director that a good chunk of the staff each year were smokers as well and it was overlooked as long as the children weren't aware. Of course. Men are so willing to overlook anything they don't want to deal with.

She's rewarding herself tonight for finally lining the drawers of her dresser, wax paper stolen from the mess hall probably around the same time Sarah Manning was vomiting in some bush. Rachel's drawers are pristine and she has to congratulate herself.

The smoke tugs on her lungs a little, it being a few days since her last cigarette and the final curls of humidity still somehow clinging in the hazy air. She inhales deeper the next time to force the feeling.

It isn't entirely preferable, sitting on what is either a large rock or a small boulder close enough to trees to no doubt be in range of dropping spiders. But the alternative is leave her children (and Sarah's, despite her refusal to take responsibility) for her own personal pleasure and wander down to the lake to smoke and she will not shirk her responsibilities like that. Unlike a certain someone who still isn't back yet.

Sitting around a campfire with people she can't stand doesn't sound at all appealing and she still can't see why Sarah would willingly put herself in that position, with what they're saying about her in regards to Paul and Beth. She wonders momentarily if Beth would have come to that sort of event but decides against it, choosing to believe Beth is above it or at the very least tired of it. No, it would just be Paul and Sarah, most likely snuggling on some log while everyone around them talks. And then come morning Sarah would act all offended that she's being blamed for her own actions, as if she's the innocent party in this. Ridiculous.

Rachel's smoked more than half of her cigarette before she realizes and grips the stone beneath her to try and ground her thoughts.

As she does so she becomes aware of the sound of something approaching, soft and creeping as if trying not to be heard. There's a dim beam of light cutting through the trees and as Rachel rises to dispose of her cigarette in some non-fire starting way she catches sight of Sarah herself, cheeks pink, trudging through the forest.

"What on earth-" Rachel lets slip just as Sarah bites out a "bloody hell, Rachel smokes."

"This is not something to be shared," Rachel snaps as she stubs the cigarette out on the rock.

She drops the butt onto the forest floor, realizing this is essentially littering before remembering she doesn't care what Sarah thinks and hiding the thing under some decomposing leaves. Sarah watches the action with almost glassy eyes, no doubt from the alcohol she's wearing as perfume. Rum. Disgusting.

"That's contraband," Sarah teases, stepping closer. "One word to the director-"

Rachel goes to step back, away from the smoky rum stench of Sarah's clothes and tangled hair, and comes up against the rock. Trapped. "The director's aware," she says, trying to maintain an even voice.

Sarah's eyebrows raise, a smile playing on her lips. "But if the kids found out..."

Rachel doesn't seem to know how to use her hands as Sarah steps forward and takes the pack of cigarettes from her, sliding them into her back pocket in a movement that shouldn't be so mesmerizing. If it were anyone else Rachel would already have a sharp retort on her tongue but instead she find herself looking directly at Sarah, trying not to want to tell her she has ash in her hair. Trying not to want to take it out herself.

"Those are mine," she says weakly instead. Stupid. Stupid, stupid.

Is she suddenly a child?

"I think I'll keep them," Sarah says and pats her back pocket. Rachel blinks and looks off towards a dark clump of trees. "I've always thought I'd look hot smoking. What do you think, Rachel?"

That clearly isn't her only pack so she doesn't know why she's panicking like this, her chest constricting in an awfully embarrassing way. It's as if she's in primary school again sitting in a mud puddle with all the children laughing. I don't like to be pushed, she'd told the boy. Stupid.

Sarah's a step closer, the unmistakable scent of champagne on her breath. "You know this shit causes tongue cancer, right?"

"I'm not an idiot," Rachel manages to get out rather dryly.

Sarah nods, looks down at her lips. Fingers the cigarettes through her shorts again.

"Well," she says. "It'd just be a shame if they cut it out."

Because I wouldn't be able to verbally combat you anymore? Rachel wants to ask, chest still tight and wanting this to be what Sarah means.

But Sarah teeters back on her heels and then is heading towards the cabin with a blanket Rachel doesn't recognize suddenly draped over her shoulders like a cape and there isn't time for anything other than Rachel to smooth down the jacket she's wearing over her pyjama top to protect it from the smoke. Windbreakers crease more than anything. She needs all the folds to disappear before she too can disappear into her cabin.

She stands out there for an extra ten minutes, running her fingers down the unbearable fabric until it feels like enough. And then she prays a tipsy Sarah Manning means no more snoring, for once, so she'll finally be able to sleep without having to think about her.