Notes:
1) This story contains some McDanno, but doesn't focus on it.
2) Some context in case you know nothing about Boy Scouts of America. It's mostly run by people who've been scouts before. Everybody, except administrative staff, are volunteers. You have the "adults" who may or may not have been in the organisation before (although mostly have been), and they are called "scouters" they guide, but not quite lead, leading is left to the leaders of the troop, meaning it's the actual kids that do the work, scouters are there to make sure nobody catches fire or starts a wild fire (kinda); you have the Cubmaster (adult guide to the cubs: kiddos 6 to 11 years old) and then the Scoutmaster (adult guide to the actual boy scouts: boys aged 10 to 18). There is the troop (the whole unit, cubs and scouts) and patrols (usually up to 10 scouts/cubs each), patrols have leaders (kiddos, not adults). And scouters have assistants (again, kiddos, not adults).
The other stuff is pretty much easy to figure out once you read it. I lost all my detailed notes about the subject, because I actually went and researched how it would've been back in '92 and a few things have changed since then, so if the name of a patch or a Scout Class doesn't quite ring true, that might be the reason. That's it, that's the info dump you may (or may not) have needed.
PART I
#01
He is excited, there is no other way of putting it, he doesn't remember being this excited about going out since before Billy die— since before Billy. Period. He's older now, sure, and that might be part of it, or it could be due to the fact that Frederick Johnson has invited him, pushed him even, to join the Scouts and now they're going camping for the weekend. Gosh, he feels like such a goof for calling Freddie by his full name in his head. He met Freddie at his dad's station, nephew of another fireman, then he saw him again at a barbecue and that's when Danny got talking with him, a week later he got invited over to play some Mario Bros at his house and they were set; immediate friends. Freddie went on and on about this group he went to and he made it sound so cool and fun, that Danny eventually relented and decided to check out this whole Boy Scouts of America thing. Turned out they were pretty badass. He got the square knot figured out within the week and all the rest was a piece of cake, especially getting both his parents to sign him up. And what do you know, the next time they meet is for a day trip, he couldn't recite the Scout Oath fast enough. They went out and some boy whose name he won't divulge, snuck ribs into the picnic and they were delicious. There was so much to see and so many things to do; he barely gets a sense of who's who that day. And now? Now they're going for five day trip to a park as a last hurrah to summer.
His parents had been excited for him. His dad took him out and bought him a pocket knife 'but don't tell Ma how expensive it was, yeah?' not that there was any way to fool his mother, she knew exactly how much that knife had been, but it was okay, because they hadn't seen him light up like this for a long time and the expense was worth it. And back home his Ma had taken him aside and given him a soft, wore-in jacket, "my dad's" she said, "so you don't get cold at night". It was a leather monstrosity that was aching to an aviator jacket, with warm fleece on the inside and tons of pockets, and Danny had loved it. He thought it made him look cool and was also able to savor the little treasure that had been trusted upon him, he had given his Ma a one-armed hug as he held the jacket close to his heart with the other.
Danny checks his backpack for the tenth time and calls it a night, there's only so much worrying he can do before it turns obsessive and ends with him rubbing tiredness out of his eyes at ten o'clock in the morning. This time he will not worry, he will just be. It feels like such a pivotal moment of his life and he sure hopes the whole trip lives up to the expectation. He gives one last look at his things, turns the lights out and goes to sleep.
#02
The alarm feels like a drill to his forehead, but a second after, he remembers why he's getting up so early and this overwhelming sense of giddiness washes over him; he leaps out of bed. He looks to the other side of the room and realizes Mattie's already up, which is quite a feat for his younger brother, he might be the more energetic one, but, boy, can that kid sleep. Danny doesn't see him on his way to the shower either, so he just figures he must be enjoying the morning cartoons downstairs.
Once he's finished putting on his uniform, Danny heads downstairs, where the table's already set and his breakfast is almost ready. Both his parents are waiting for him, his Ma is wearing her robe tied tight around her waist with a smile on her lips, and his Pop is ready to go drop him off at the bus, there's no sign of his sisters, although he can tell by the noise that Mattie is in fact sprawled in front of the TV, binging on morning cartoons and what sounds like the whole box of cereal.
"You excited, son?" His father asks, clapping him on the back.
"Yeah, I know we won't be long in the wilderness, but yeah."
His father chuckles, "Danny, bathroom and a place to shower in the morning can hardly be called wilderness." Danny snorts back in response.
His mother puts a steaming cup in front of him, accompanied by toast and eggs, the smell of coffee strong in his nostrils.
"We figured you could use extra help this morning, you're not an early riser after all." His mother tells him.
And yeah, true, especially because the last weeks of summer are meant to be spent lazing around, so he's glad for the gentle bending of an otherwise stern rule. No coffee until you're fifteen. He's a couple of months away anyway.
"Did you pack socks?" His Ma asks.
"Mmm."
"An extra pair too?"
"Mmm." He nods a bit to make sure his Ma is getting the message.
"Underwear?"
"Ma, I got it; it's fine," Danny says in between mouthfuls.
"No son of mine will be caught wearing dirty underwear!" She answers, hand on hip.
"Ma! It's fine, I'll just wear them backwards."
"Hey," his dad interjects, "no disrespecting your mom's coddling, she does it because she cares." His Ma playfully hits his dad on the arm, but there's not heat behind it.
"Yes, Ma, I packed enough, it's only for four nights."
"All right, all right. Did you pack a flashlight?"
"Pop!" Danny yelps, bordering on exasperation.
"Clara, my love, he'll be fine, if he gets lost all he has to do is give them a shout, he'll have the whole campsite looking for him in no time, this one." His Pop then turns to look at him. "You ready yet, or what?"
Danny drinks the last of his coffee and stands up. "Yeah, I'm ready."
He gives his Ma a hug and a kiss. "Say goodbye to the goofs upstairs for me," he tells her. His Ma kisses his cheek and then immediately rubs him there, as if she had left a mark.
"Will do, honey, hope you guys catch a nice dinner. Mattie," she adds a bit louder, "say goodbye to your brother."
A hand rises from the couch, only visible from the elbow up, accompanied by Mattie's sing song voice. "Goodbye, brother. If you die I get the room for myself."
"Shut up, you jer—" Danny manages to stop himself before he completes that phrase, his mother already frowning at him. Oh, what the hell. "You regurgitated tadpole!"
Mattie sniggers, amused by the insult, but his father turns Danny around and practically marches him to the door, his Ma shakes her head, amused despite herself, as they step outside.
The ride to the meeting place is uneventful, the only piece of advice his father gives him is the same he has been giving him since he was six: if push comes to shove, hit first, hit hard.
As soon as he gets out of the car he spots Freddie. Danny tries to shoulder his bag and wave his dad goodbye at the same time, but his Pop is having none of it, he takes the keys out of the ignition and steps into the chaos that is almost twenty teenage boys saying their goodbyes and trying to fit their camping gear into a school bus.
Danny has no other option than to trail behind him; he should've known better than to try and ditch him.
"Relax, kid, just gonna say hello to the grownups," his dad says as he makes a beeline for one of the Scouters, Danny also says his helloes and claps his buddies on the back, getting into the groove of camaraderie, he's about to finally (finally) go say hello to Freddie when his Pop steps into his line of vision and blocks his path.
"One last hug for your old man? Or you getting too old for this?"
Never.
Danny gives the best possible answer and latches his arms around his father, squeezing until he hears something pop. His father part groans part chuckles and with one last bump to the arm, leaves him be, getting into the car and driving away.
"That your dad?"
Danny perks up immediately, turning around to greet Freddie.
"Yeah, he is."
Freddie gives Danny's bag a once over and whistles.
"That one hell of an antique you got there, where did you get it?"
Danny is momentarily confused as to what Freddie is referring to: the bag, the jacket he managed to jam around a shoulder strap, or something else.
"I mean the jacket, Williams. Jesus, you really are slow in the mornings, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I did warn you, I'm not a morning person, you know? Where's your stuff?"
"Already in the bus, some of us had the decency of showing up early and helped with putting shit together and stuff."
"Yeah, you talk big, Freddie, but remember I've seen your room, I know how things really are."
Freddie takes Danny's bag and shoulders it, making a show of weighing it before he puts it on.
"See you packed light, thought you were going to be one of those over-worriers that think they gonna need everything and pack stupid."
"How can you possibly pack stupid?" Danny raises his eyebrows in doubt and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Hey, I once had to save a kid's math book from the fire pit. He thought he might have trouble sleeping or get bored or some shit, so he brought it just in case."
Danny smiles and traps part of his bottom lip between teeth and tongue. "Yeah, packing stupid, I can see it now."
Freddie takes the leather jacket and hands it to Danny, as he unceremoniously drops the camping bag next to the bus.
"You either put it on or stuff it into the bag, no loose shit inside the bus."
"Do you know any word other than 'shit' to refer to stuff? Like, you know, 'stuff'?"
"Not the shitty answer I was looking for, Danny." Freddie crosses his arm over his chest and leans into the bus.
"I'll just lay it over all the other bags right before we leave." He makes a smoothing motion with his hands, like that would totally clarify his intentions and make them acceptable for Freddie.
"Nu-uh, if you need help making room for it, I can help, but this is my zone," he says pointing to the pile of stuff inside. "I make the rules; I don't need you whining about your jacket later because it got scratched or torn or whatever."
"Yeah? Who died and put you in charge?"
"No riots either, that's another rule," says Freddie, taking the jacket from Danny's hand and crouching. He opens Danny's bag and in less than a minute he has rearranged half its contents and made enough space to fit a whole lot more than a jacket inside. He zips it up and wrestles it into the designated area. "There, done. You're welcome."
"Yeah, yeah." Danny, points a finger to Freddie's chest. "You see, I can't believe you can play real-life Tetris and make it look so easy, but are completely unable to put your room back together."
Freddie puffs his chest out, batting Danny's hand away.
"I could if I wanted to."
"Bet you would if there was a patch for it."
Freddie makes a noncommittal noise and shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe." He adds as an afterthought.
"I'm so telling your mom next time you have me over."
"Ugh, please don't."
Danny is settling quite nicely into this back and forth when a whistle shifts his attention to the Scoutmaster, who is beckoning the troop towards him.
"Alright, alright. Unless there's anybody here who hasn't put his gear away, I think we're ready. Patrol leaders, we good?"
"Yeah," comes James' answer, quickly followed by Freddie's thumbs up. The Cubmaster searches amongst the cubs for any sign of trouble and after a few pointed looks between the denners in charge; they both give the thumbs up to the Cubmaster, who in turn nods to the Scoutmaster.
"Okay, good. I hope you're all excited to be having this late summer trip." A few scouts whoop, the Scoutmaster chortles and goes on. "Alright, I have two things to say before the leaders shoo me off, first, I was asked from upstairs to remind you we don't want a repeat of the last overnight trip incident, so please, please, please, be safe when handling fire. And second, as you all know, Rick got sick over the week so I'm one assistant short, so if you guys could get me an assistant before we arrive, that would be great. Thank you." The Scoutmaster steps aside and Freddie goes up front to address the troop.
"Alright, people, I was thinking Pauley might be up for sub-assistant of the trip? We can talk about it on the bus. Just remember it can be anyone except Danny who needs to learn the ropes first, yeah? You alright, Danny?"
The whole troop cheers on and Danny hasn't felt this good in public in a long time.
Freddie is pretty precise and to the point, reminding everyone of the overall schedule of the trip and beckoning the other leaders to discuss minor tasks amongst themselves. Shortly after, the troop breaks into Cubs and Boy Scouts, Freddie and James makes sure to drill them about behaving well, nice and proper around the cubs, giving special emphasis to the fact that it's only 8 of them now, after the fire incident, so they don't want a repeat of that. Danny doesn't even dare to ask.
#03
The park is huge. The bus dropped them off the closest it could to the camping site, since the trails are not wide enough for it, and now they're walking, the pots clanging against each other every now and then. The sun is already high in the sky and it's getting hot, Danny can feel sweat starting to pool at the base of his neck, but he's happy. They exchange funny tales from school and other trips, although Danny has the suspicion they've already told this stories a dozen times and now they're just repeating them for his sake. He smiles and laughs from the bottom of his heart, his side hurting from the effort.
When they get to their assigned spot, they break into patrols, each leader assigning different tasks; a few of them go help the cubs. After they clean up the site, Freddie and Danny unpack their tent and set it up, it starts looking kind of crooked, but after Danny starts to listen and actually follow Freddie's directions, it gets better until it turns habitable.
"All right, Danny boy, get your gear in here, make sure it doesn't have too much dirt and close up shop before you go outside." Freddie gestures to the tent entrance and steps outside. "I'll go see about cooking duties."
Danny uses the time to push his gear deep into a corner of the tent and change into a t-shirt, clip his pocket knife on his belt and rummage around for his cap. Once he's done, he zips up the tent closed and heads towards the rest of the patrol.
"So, who's up for water duty?" A couple of kids raise their hands. "Scott and Ben, cool. Chris? You up for it too? Alright. Fire? Okay, Dave and Tom. Henry, can you go see if the cubs need help with anything, we have their back for lunch, the other patrol for dinner. And that leaves me and Danny for actual cooking. Somebody against?"
"Just don't burn it this time," says Henry, hitting Scott in the chest. Both of them snigger.
Something somber flashes across Freddie's face for a split second, but he quickly recovers.
"Nah, Henry, you're obviously not remembering this correctly, I wasn't in charge that time, but hey, who cares now, right? I'm sure Danny here knows how to grill a few things."
The guys set out to do their chores and so do Freddie and Danny. First get the supplies and then start preparing them; the menu for the day is grilled hot dogs with a side of salad. Oh yes, Danny's about to willingly eat his greens today.
Freddie is quick and proficient with the knife, opening the packages and slicing open the bread, Danny is a bit awkward with the lettuce and tomatoes, but he manages to make enough salad for the patrol without too much fuss. Danny grabs a plate filled to the brim with hot dogs and walks to the grill; Freddie follows him with a plate of buns, Tom and Dave coming to meet them, smelling of smoke and black smudges on their faces.
Lunch is served fairly quickly. The hot dogs are done to perfection, if Danny says so himself, and the Scoutmaster congratulates the patrol on a job well done, after taking a huge bite out of his meal. They're sitting on a picnic table that's a bit small to hold nine people. Danny's squished in between Freddie's lanky figure, that's mostly elbows and wobbly knees against his own; and Dave, a sturdy thirteen-year old with a triangular back that makes Danny feel small in comparison, even though Dave is less than half an inch taller. Danny eats with his elbows tucked to his sides, his cap resting on his lap, a loose strand of hair ticklish against his forehead.
"Freddie, which patch you working on now?" Asks Henry, a high school senior that looks like he might get all the babes.
Freddie shrugs and moves his head side to side, in mock hesitation.
"Umm, I haven't decided yet. I was thinking First Aid to Animals and start with you."
There's laughter all around and Henry shakes his head.
"You're so not making it to Life with that attitude," says Henry, followed quickly by an elongated 'ooh' from the rest of the patrol, Danny included.
Freddie raises his hands, palm to the front in amicable surrender.
"Sorry, man, I saw an opening and I had to take it."
After lunch is done and everything is put away and taken care of, everybody gets an hour and a half to themselves, which means time to explore, laze around and play. Danny takes that time to quiz Freddie about patches and how to earn them. Forty minutes later he's still fuzzy about the subject and all talked out, but he's having the time of his life throwing rocks at the lake with Freddie besides him running commentary on his stone skipping skills.
"No, man, you gotta sling that arm way back and lay it low, parallel to the ground. Ugh, that was ugly, man, that was terrible!"
"Look, if you think you can do it better, then do it, but I don't see you picking up any stones, so what? You only good for talking now?"
Freddie buries his hands in his shorts pockets and shrugs, with an expression that's neither here nor there.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," says Danny, adjusting his cap, before fishing another flat stone from his pocket. Danny loves to skip stones, and it's been a long while since he last indulged in it, he's a bit rusty, his arm growing rapidly tired, but he's enjoying himself, so he won't let Freddie's intrusive remarks ruin it for him.
Danny straightens to watch his rock skip away from him, he counts six skips before it sinks and turns to Freddie with a satisfied grin, but Freddie is no longer paying attention to him, he's got his back to the lake and a hand shading his eyes, watching someone walk down the trail a hundred yards away.
"Is that Henry?" Asks Danny.
"Yeah, I think so, look he's waving us over, let's go see what he wants. I'll race you for it." Freddie breaks into a lazy sprint and Danny follows suit behind, a couple of rocks still in his pocket hitting him on the leg with each step.
"Yo, Freddie! James' putting together some games for the cubs, wanna come?"
"Sure, I'm tired of watching Danny throw stones anyway."
Henry snorts and says, "I bet you are, you can't throw even to save your life. Danny, don't believe a word he says, nothing but a poser this one." Danny laughs. "I'm rounding up the troop, so I'll catch up with you, have you seen Dave? It's the only one I haven't found yet."
"I think I saw him headed to the docks a while back," says Danny.
Henry contemplates the task at hand with a weary sigh, the docks nothing but a dark little square on the horizon.
"Damn, I'll be back eventually, I'm sure. See ya around."
Henry continues walking to the shore, as Danny and Freddie walk the other way.
#04
"Hey, let's take a shortcut," says Freddie, pointing to small clearing of bushes. Danny gives him a quizzical look, eyebrows rising in question. "I used to come with my family all the time, I know this place, if we follow this old trail we can cut half a mile out of the hike, I swear, people don't use this path anymore, but that doesn't mean it won't lead us back to the campsite."
Freddie doesn't wait for Danny's answer and just steps into the bushes and starts without looking back, Danny has little choice than to follow.
"So let me get this straight, you claim that you got to level forty of duck hunter, even though when you were in my house the other day you barely made it to thirteen?"
"Yeah, I swear, I got a cousin that got grounded so her mom gave me the console for a month, I've been practicing. Even with Mattie teasing and pushing me around, I can make it to thirty, at the very least."
"Mattie's your brother, yeah?"
"Yeah, that's him. He pisses me off most of the time, but he's my brother. Only one I've got." Freddie bumps him on the shoulder with his own and smiles. He's about to ask Danny about the whole crazy aunt thing that basically sublet her daughter's console, when a noise ahead has him crouching and pushing Danny with him to the ground. Danny goes as far as opening his mouth, but Freddie shushes him.
There's rustling leaves ahead and two deep voices come through from the trees ahead.
"This is far enough, don't you think? Nobody uses this trail anymore, I'm pretty sure if we got attacked by a wildcat they wouldn't even hear us call for help."
"Fine, fine, I'm just paranoid, having my kid with the cubs kinda puts me on the spot with the wife, you know? She thinks I quit weeks ago."
It's the Scoutmaster and the Cubmaster; Freddie got scared over nothing. Danny turns to look at him and realizes Freddie's still got his hands on his shoulders. Freddie seems to realize at the same time and takes his hands out like Danny's shoulders are on fire, but they keep quiet and still. The Scouters are lighting up cigarettes, each one of them leaning on the trunk of a tree.
"Oh, man, I'm so tired already; I don't know how I'm going to get up on Monday." That's the Scoutmaster talking.
"I hear ya. Maybe we're getting too old for this, have you considered that?" Says the Cubmaster.
"Oh, god no! Don't you get started too! I'm already surrounded by kids at work, I swear they keep getting younger, you know?"
"Sure, it's only the scouters that keep getting older."
There's a puff of laughter, but it's impossible to know from whom, afterwards there's a lull in the conversation and Danny peeks over the bushes and tall grass to figure out what's going on, he manages to catch a glimpse of the rolled up jeans of the Cubmaster, and a whiff of smoke, before Freddie pulls him closer to him and down, conveying to him through pointed looks and chin motions, to start walking around the bushes to bypass the scouters.
"Yeah, well, in a way," says the Scoutmaster, "it's about protecting the good name of the institution, you know? Like take that case with the Dale kid, we can't have guys like that looking out for the interests of the BSA, you know?"
"You mean the gay kid that got outted?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Right, I heard about the case, I think it got dismissed? Don't really know."
"Oh, no! The BSA told him exactly where he could stick it, but I hear he's trying to get the case to court. Can you imagine? The gall on that guy to even sue the BSA, what is he? Crazy? God made them Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."
"Yeah, right. Sure," says the Cubmaster in return.
Danny doesn't quite get who they're talking about, but he kind of gets what it is about, and he doesn't want to hear more, not really. A heavy feeling sets in between his stomach and chest, like a fist that's constricting the airflow. He sidesteps a thorny bush and follows Freddie into a mesh of tall grass, bushes and low hanging branches, deep into the shadow; behind his back he can hear the scoutmasters finishing their smokes and heading back to the campsite.
Freddie walks in silence, setting a punishing pace that has them veering off the trail by a good fifty yards, when Danny asks about how long until they get there, Freddie, in a rather succinct fashion, tells him it will take them however long it takes them. By the time they break through the fringe of the forest, they come out even closer to the game area than originally intended, where the troop is engaging in a fierce tournament of capturing the flag. Danny and Freddie join opposite teams, cheer on their teammates and try not to land flat on their asses when running on loose dirt, soon enough the heavy feeling from before is forgotten.
#05
Danny sort of stumbles into the enemy's flag, at some point during the longest game of capture the flag that he has ever played –probably because it has like a dozen more players than what he's used to— he takes a turn walking towards the general direction of where he thinks the jail is and he finds it. It's a balled up blue sweater with a belt around it for good measure, in case it wasn't obvious enough. He catches a little bit of it sticking out from behind a rock, the fuzz of the wool glistening in the afternoon sun.
He looks around and squints against the shadowy space between trees, but sees nothing, or rather no one, he runs towards the flag, grabs it and keeps on running; maybe he'll find a team mate, maybe he'll find jail, maybe he'll stumble back into his own field by mistake, very much so like he got to the flag in first place, whatever happens, it's something better than wait by the flag until he gets caught. There are voices and whooping behind the densest area of bushes, so he veers off towards that place, when he gets the distinct feeling he's being watched and someone jumps him from behind.
"Tag! You're it, shitface," says Freddie, pressing him to the ground. The flag gets bunched up under his belly, the belt buckle digging into his ribs. His hand is trapped under him too, his wrist bearing the brunt of their combined weights.
"Get off my back, you animal," he replies, letting some indignation seep into his voice; Freddie just tackled him hard into the ground, and it hurt.
Danny can sense Freddie's about to say something else, when a whistle sounds beyond the bushes, three short blows, followed by three long ones and three short ones again. Then somebody yells: "cub down!" and Freddie scrambles up so fast up, Danny barely has the conscience of mind to do the same to avoid being trampled on.
A couple of cubs stumble from behind –Danny never knew they were there— towards the commotion and he does the same, holding onto the balled up sweater. When he and Freddie reach the other side of the bushes there's a kid on the ground, with red rimmed eyes and the Scoutmaster is crouching beside him, removing one of his sneakers.
#06
"It ain't broken, that's for sure," he says to the kid. Jeff, his mind supplies, but Danny's so-so with names, it might be Julio for all he knows.
Turned out the kid –his name's Mike actually— twisted his ankle and fell, so Pauley, acting assistant extraordinaire, took him on his back to the campsite, where most of the cubs pitched in on what sort of first aid should be administered. After Mike's settled under the shade, looking slightly less miserable than before, a cold compress on his ankle, Freddie's patrol sets to help the cubs on mastering a few knots. Meanwhile James' patrol works on getting dinner going.
Danny sits down next to a cub that sports a determined sort of frown on his face and copies to the best of his abilities the movements he's making, until he finds himself with a crooked "cat's paw" on his hands.
The day's been great, it's finally refreshing, the sun about to set behind the trees, his face's a bit taut around the smile lines, and that feels new and good, amazing actually. Something twists deep in Danny's belly and he never wants this day to end.
That night, he goes into the tent and falls asleep in a matter of seconds.
#07
He wakes up way too early by the level of luminosity filtering into the tent. Not quite day, not night either, something aching closer to dawn. He's not shivering (yet), but he just knows he's about to, he feels hot on the inside, but way too cold on the outside and he soon comes to find the reason; his sleeping bag has slid under him, below his waist. He knows he's a restless sleeper, but this is verging on ridiculous, how the hell did he manage to unzip the bag and end up sleeping practically on the floor of the tent? He tries to cover himself again, as quiet as possible and with as efficient movements as he can manage, trying really hard not to wake Freddie up. It's useless, Freddie's a very light sleeper, as he has had the pleasure of finding out by staying at his house a couple of times.
"The fuck, Danny?" Comes his raspy voice, barely out of the stages of sleep.
"Sorry. Sorry. I just— sorry, go back to sleep." He apologizes as he wraps his bag over his shoulders.
"Okay," says Freddie almost in a whisper, like he's already drifting back.
A couple of minutes go by, but Danny finds it impossible to generate enough heat and just like he predicted before, he starts shivering, doing his best not to let his teeth clatter.
There's the sound of a zipper, the rustle of clothes and Freddie scoots closer to Danny, sleeping bag and all, fumbling with Danny's zipper and then Freddie's arm hugs him around the middle and presses him into his chest.
"Sleep. Now. Or I'll end you," says Freddie and that's that. He allows himself a minute to appreciate how warmth pools at the bottom of his stomach and at the back of his legs and then he's out.
Next time he wakes up he's alone in the tent, hot as a furnace, the sun is lighting up the entire thing and he can't decide whether last night happened or not. The rest of the day passes by in a flurry of semi-structured exploring activities, which include putting his pocket knife to the test. A lot. Specially once they find the remains of an old hunting cabin burnt to the ground and he has the pleasure of digging up melted glass out of ashes and carbonized wood. Aside of all the activities, he's also playing catch up with all the scout knowledge he needs to learn and memorize to earn a fuckton of patches and move upward and forward on the path. Once again he spends the entire day grinning like a goof until his face aches.
#08
There's a slow late summer breeze that crosses the field and makes the tents flap lazily every now and then. Danny fishes out his jacket from their tent and slips it on, burrowing his hands into the side pockets. He takes a quick look at himself and decides to change into jeans as well; whatever James' patrol has prepared took them quite a while, so it might take a while to deliver it too.
The whole troop has assembled in a semi-circle around the fire pit, and to the other side, there's a makeshift branch structure that holds a few blankets like a theater curtain. There's a sign on the curtain that reads "RADIO THEATRE" in all caps with the neatest scrawl Danny has seen in his life outside of his Ma's, but she's a teacher, so it doesn't really count.
Freddie comes from somewhere to his left and passes besides him, plopping himself near the cubs. Danny's hands curl inside his pockets, hot and sweaty. Freddie looks up and raises his eyebrows to Danny, as if saying 'what are you waiting for?', to drive his point home, he even pats the space next to him, putting on a fake pleasant smile that fools no one. Danny purposefully unclenches his fists and moves forward. Freddie taps him on the shoulder with his own, and offers him a genuine smile of satisfaction.
After the cubs and scouts have settled down and found their places, James walks in front of the curtain and waits for everybody to quiet down.
"Good night and welcome to the first radio theater of our beloved troop. Narrating on this fine summer night will be Arty, as Martin!"
The whole troop erupts in claps and then laughter when Arty takes center stage in a somewhat wrinkled blazer and a bowtie made out of green leaves and tied around his bare neck with a piece of yellowish string.
"Pauley as Richard!"
Pauley walks besides Arty and makes a swirl with his hand as he bows, the troop claps again.
"And yours truly as Caroline!"
James curtseys as if wearing a make believe dress and takes his place next to Pauley. The troop claps and laughs as the narrators take their scripts out of pockets and arrange folding chairs near the curtain. Arty squints hard at his script shaking his head and turns to James who in turn shrugs his shoulders.
"Lights!" says Arty as he snaps his fingers. A hand appears from the slit of the blankets holding a basket, the three narrators take something from it and the hand disappears back into darkness.
"Ah! This will do," says James and turns a flashlight in his hand, turning it on in unison with Pauley and Arty, the audience chuckles.
An old tune starts playing, the kind Danny has heard his granddad play on his old record player and like that, the play starts.
"Mom! Mooooom! Have you seen my keys?"
"Why not," says James in a falsetto so high in pitch it's ridiculous in itself; there're a few scattered snorts of laughter around the audience. "My dearest Martin, what keys are we talking about?"
"About yay-big, golden in color, often used to open the car."
There's a key rattle from behind the curtain.
"You mean these keys?"
"How did you know they were in my pocket?" Arty sounds baffled.
"I didn't. I saw them sticking out of your pocket."
There's a bark that sounds a lot like it's coming from a smallish dog.
"What is that beast doing in my car?!" asks James, sounding horrified, which is pretty hard to pull off in character with a falsetto.
"Aw, chucks, remember when you said I should never ever, under any circumstances, bring a dog into the house?"
"Martin, love of my life, please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going."
"Well, the good news is it never set a paw inside the house, look at her, she spent the whole night in here"
The keys rattle again accompanied by a rather fierce growl from Pauley.
"Argh, it is morning already?"
James yelps.
"And who is that?"
"Oh, right, that's the gentleman that came attached to the dog."
"What?!"
"But it's alright, you see, because Sofia was never alone during the night, and she didn't feel lonely, at all."
There's more barking as Pauley does one spectacular yawn and stretches over his head.
"Ma'am, is this your boy?" Pauley delivers his line as if annoyed.
"Oh, god, I can feel a headache coming, what's he done now?"
"He took me and my dog hostage for the night," Pauley deadpans.
"Arty! I mean, Martin!" The audience chuckles again, some of the cubs sniggering behind hands and looking at each other with glee in their eyes. Danny grins so wide his cheeks ache.
The nonsense progresses from one ridiculous situation to another, it has the whole troop in stitches every ten seconds or so. Danny has to swipe tears out of his eyes in some scenes, clutching his belly with both hands as Arty plays the most nuanced performance of absurd theater he has ever had the pleasure of listening to. Ever. This radio play even trumps his uncle's M-rated stories after he gets plastered and thinks the kids have gone to bed, and boy, that's saying something. When they're done, the makeshift curtains open, revealing an assortment of objects from pots and pans to recorders, a patch of gravel and scrunching leaves, a bucket of water and a dozen other things. The whole troop cheers and claps earnestly, the narrators bow to the audience, half of Arty's leaf bowtie floats gently to the ground. Next comes the sound effects crew, they step into the stage area and bow too.
"That… was… incredible!" says Danny to no one in particular. Next to him a couple of cubs are recounting their favorite bits in between bouts of laughter.
"Yeah, that was the shit," says Freddie. He then turns to Danny and grins like a goof.