It had only been a handful of days since his arrival at Camp Campbell, but already the only young thespian among the group of children was fed up. Preston was immensely talented, to be sure, but the sheer level of negligence given to supplying each activity station – but mostly importantly his – was making planning a production extremely difficult. He had not been hoping to only do one-man single acts, and nothing grabbed an audience like the wow factor of an amazing set, but all he'd been provided was a crappy set of ratty old curtains in a highly limited selection of colors, an upturned washtub to act as a personal stage, and a box of what looked like garbage that had been cleaned out of the camp's attic before it opened. That was meant to be his props.
It was infuriating. Though the camp had its own stage that he could use for a full performance, it would hardly make a difference if he had nothing to fill it with! Preston had a script! He had a vision! He wanted to make art!
That very notion is what made him turn his head from his box of lackluster set dressing and face his pout towards the station next to his. Preston hadn't learned everyone's name yet, but he did know one of the other boys in attendance was an aspiring artist. He'd witnessed it the first time the group was scheduled activity time, since their stations were conveniently right next to each other, and, admittedly, on other days he had peeked at the kid now and again, interested in knowing details about his arts and crafts, perhaps even wishing to get his attention. Right now the boy was painting.
Throwing down the curtains he'd been pawing through, looking for something that vaguely matched the stone architecture described in the script he was holding open with the other hand, Preston stood with a determined grunt. There was only one reason he hadn't approached this boy before, and if he had any hope of fulfilling his vision, Preston was going to have to look past it.
"Alright, Preston, get it together!" he barked at himself, clenching his fists in front of him, "Do it for your dreams! There's only one other kid in this whole place who could possibly help you! He's...probably not evil. Hitler's dead! Oh god, unless reincarnation is right!"
Seriously. The art kid looked like Hitler. The spitting image, only minus the mustache and rather height-challenged. His fashion choices didn't help either, the boy favoring brown cargos, a matching tight sweatervest and army boots. It was enough to make anyone uncomfortable.
Giving himself a sharp slap across the cheek, Preston puffed up his chest, made sure his script was securely in hand, and marched towards the diminutive boy happily waggling his feet as he smiled at his canvas.
"Greetings, fellow artist!" Preston announced loudly, theatrics entering his demeanor. Not only was it necessary to mask his discomfort, but he was just naturally dramatic. "I am Preston Goodplay, a thespian extraordinaire!" Crossing his ankles gracefully, he put one hand high before sweeping it across his body in a showy bow.
Still beaming, the other stopped painting and looked at the approaching boy sporting a simplified yellow and green doublet, matching neck ruff and green corduroy pants. What interesting attire for every day, he though. "Greetings! I am a Dolph!" The small boy giggled behind his hands, enjoying the dramatic way the other spoke and mirroring it playfully.
"A-Adolf..?" Preston could feel one of his lower eyelids trembling, unable to believe he was hearing that right.
"Yes! A Dolph who is very pleased to formally meet you at last!" Dolph had seen the other around, just like the rest of his fellow campers and hopefully future friends, but they all pretty much avoided direct conversation with him...for whatever reason. Dolph just did his best to stay friendly and chipper.
So small that even his stool was too big for him, Dolph stood on it to be high enough to offer the taller, lanky boy a handshake on his level.
"Oh-ohhh! Oh thank god!" Preston realized what Dolph had been saying and breathed a large sigh of relief. The short one had only been mimicking him to be friendly. Even so, the German accent was highly unsettling. Seeing Dolph tilt his head in puzzlement, hand still outstretched upward, Preston quickly cleared his throat and grabbed the hand, trying to ignore what the position it had been in resembled.
Attempting to explain his outburst, Preston forced a grin and explained, "I just...was so afraid, that...you might not be so...friendly." Well, it was true. He just wasn't admitting the full extent of why.
Dolph giggled again, flipping his wrist once his hand was released. "You were vorried about little old me..? So silly. Ach, nein, I love meeting new people! I vish more of zhe kids would be velcoming like you. Ah vell. Zhat is social cliques for you." He'd never had much luck with those, unfortunately. Being raised offshore rather limited the peers he could interact with as well.
"Ah ha ha..." Preston laughed awkwardly, "Right. Cliques. Anyway! I actually came over here for a reason, um, Dolph. How good would you say your art is? Have you ever considered having it showcased in...the theater?" His hands moved while he talked, as they tended to, and he swept one across the air overhead as he attempted to sell the glamor of the stage.
Dolph's eyes sparkled. "Ooo...zhe zheater, you say. I have only dared to dream modestly, but I vill admit I do have hopes of making it big someday..! Here, tell me vhat do you zhink."
He reached and turned the canvas around to present it to his visitor. "It is meine camp! Vell, I say meine, but vhat I really mean to say is zhat I made zhis to commemorate my arrival! See, zhere is a little me by zhe bus und everyzhing~..!" He pointed gleefully.
The work was good. Though unfinished, it was actually more than good! Preston blinked at it, eyes sweeping the painted versions of the woods, the archway sign at the camp's entrance, counselor cabin in the background...the young actor felt a smile form on his face as a boldness stirred within. He'd hit the jackpot. "I love it! !" he declared, fists springing into the air.
Dolph gasped, then his eyes sparkled again. "Really..?" He nearly felt about to burst hearing a compliment. And such a forceful one, too!
"Yes!" Any unease Preston had been feeling melted away instantly as he was imbued with creative lust. "The passion could not be more obvious! This is exactly what my play needs! !"
Another small gasp from Dolph as he realized where Preston was going with this. "Your play..? You mean to say you are suggesting a collaboration?"
"Yes!" repeated the taller boy, pointing at the other, "My words, your crafts! I've got the makings of a brilliant script here. All I ask is that you help me bring it to life!" He showed the packet of papers he'd brought with him.
"Ooo, I am loving your passion as vell, Kamerad!" Dolph looked very impressed. "I vould love to help! Zhere is nozhing I enjoy more zhan being useful, und I am alvays looking to expand my artistic variety." Glancing at the script, he held his own hands out. "Might I see vhat you have written?"
Feeling like he'd lucked out entirely, Preston handed the script over. "Of course! I brought it for examples of what you might need to construct, after all."
"Oh, nein, nein. Zhat of course, but I am interested to see vhat you are working on..!" corrected the tiny boy, taking his seat back down on the stool and flipping the cover open.
"You...actually want to read my play..? Just to read it?" It was Preston's turn to get a sparkle in the eye as he clasped his hands.
Cheerfully, Dolph closed his eyes and nodded.
Preston felt as though his prayers had been answered. "Finally! Someone who appreciates the craft of theater!" Hitler who? All at once Preston was only seeing some long-desired kin.
Fists clenched and crouched in anticipation like watching a sports match, the young playwright stared at Dolph as he read the first few pages, that innocent smile never wavering. Unable to wait, Preston burst, "Well? ? What do you think?!"
My, the tall boy certainly was loud. And his love of his craft certainly was apparent. Dolph could only smile more to relate. "It is delightful!" he praised, "A sequel to Romeo und Juliet, how original..!"
"Ahh! I knew it! !" Preston clawed the air, his ego ravenously devouring the compliments.
Dolph rubbed his chin in thought as he scanned the next page. "Hmm...only if zhe vizard is bringing back Romeo und Juliet, zhen vhy is Romeo part robot? Vould it not make more sense if Friar Lawrence vas sayyy...a secret super genius wizh a lab under zhe church or somezhing? So he could rebuild zhe body?"
Index finger up, Preston was about to bite back a remark about questioning his brilliance, but found himself blinking in surprise again. His mouth closed and he thought a moment. Then that finger went to his chin. "You...actually have a point there. I could use that..! Hmm. I suppose there is a point to proofreading after all..!"
Eager grinning teeth showed at the idea's approval. Dolph was rather sure he was going to enjoy working on a partner project. His first teamwork experience, oh boy!
The two ended up spending the rest of activity time together, spitballing ideas for both set design and story. What really wowed Preston was when Dolph actually offered to step outside his artistic comfort zone and act. He knew there weren't a lot of options for participants, so any additional help he could provide he would be happy to give. He was always willing to try new things and get different perspectives.
Preston was over the moon. He'd never met anyone who would act in his plays voluntarily. He'd hoped he could meet some fellow actors at camp, but since it had turned out that every kid was there for something different, common ground was a rare treasure. Naturally he would still have to put Dolph through a formal audition and judge his abilities savagely, but he appreciated the thought.
Dolph was perfectly fine with the terms.
Once activity time was up, the pair split and would go their separate ways, not really acknowledging each other or hanging out past this point, but in the two weeks they worked on lines and sets, they did find themselves giving one another the odd polite smile across the mess hall or coming running when sudden inspiration struck. It was...nice, just knowing someone you could share interests with was around.
At the end of those two weeks, Preston had completed a trilogy of plays all stemming from his first idea and supported by Dolph's inspiration. Meanwhile Dolph had felt great achievement in completing three whole backdrops, along with dozens of set pieces, aided by Preston's direction. Not a bad bit of production, they would agree.
And then...the play was ruined.
It was all thanks to the new kid and camp hellion Max, no surprise, and Preston had to wonder if the wretched Indian boy had gone through the pain of auditioning and rehearsal just to destroy the production from within. It wouldn't be any more surprising. Max hadn't even been good! The cast had just needed to fill bodies. But it hadn't been worth using the little terror. The night had ended in bad improv, unwanted stage intrusions and sudden FBI agents.
The reasoning Max gave for the events he'd triggered?
"The play's stupid, Preston."
In the height of chaos, that's all Max had given to justify his actions. Preston...hadn't even had any words. Max had no idea. Max had no respect. He didn't care that this debut had meant the world to Preston, nor did he care about what soul he'd been there to witness going into it. Max was...
"...a rotten little shit! Ugh!" The scorned, frazzled playwright kicked a cardboard rock, sending it flying. The dust had settled – literally – and nearly everyone had gone by now. Well, Preston had learned his lesson! Next time, he'd step in and play the missing parts himself, because now he knew he would rather die than rely on Max again!
While he hunched and seethed, a tiny boy still in his Friar Lawrence costume stepped through the backstage wreckage he'd been sweeping up and came to give his back a sympathetic pat. "Don't vorry, Preston," Dolph assured, drawn by the raging outburst to console, "For what it is worzh, I still zhink it vas a gute play."
"Don't patronize me," scoffed the taller boy, folding his arms and refusing to look at the other. It had been a bullshit performance and more than the both of them knew it.
"Alright, yes, zhe performance vas awful," Dolph rolled his eyes at the pouting boy before reminding, "My vork was destroyed too, you know." At that, a flash of realizing guilt crossed Preston's face. Right...it hadn't been just him putting in most of the effort. Actually, what was Dolph doing just sweeping up like it was nothing?
Dolph perked, carrying on with his point. "I mean zhe play is still gute! You can perform it again someday, ja? Perform it better. I am sad my contribution did not get to fully shine, but art is fleeting. I enjoyed vorking on it wizh you, und learning about zhe stage process. Vhat I have learned most is zhat anyzhing zhat can go wrong with it...vill. Und in light of zhat, all I have to say is...vhen is zhe next one? You did write a trilogy~..." Leading the other on, he leaned in and bounced his eyebrows enticingly.
Wow. Preston hadn't been expecting that. Such wisdom. Such optimism. He actually forgot his anger enough to look at the short boy. "You...want to work on another play with me?" After this mess, he'd be lucky to get any of the other cast to return for the next one, that was for sure.
"You bet!" Dolph cheered with a swing of his fist. "I zhink we make a great team! I cannot vait to show zhe vorld what we can do vhen we do it togezher right!"
Touched by the dedication, Preston knew he had found another true artist soul. "You're...you're right. Ok!" he pumped his own fist, but then held his hands close to his body and admitted, "But I think I'm done with Romeo and Juliet for now. For the next one I'm thinking something a little less...ambitious. Something more personal, with less room for outside heathens to screw it up!" Bitterness was evident there, directly solely at one specific hooligan. Inspiration striking, Preston exclaimed, "Aha! I've got it! 'Moby Dick II: Vengeance Resurrected'! Dolph! How do you feel about playing the zombie of a gigantically legendary white monster with immense power?!"
"Wunderbar!" chirped Dolph clapping. Why, it sounded like Preston was in higher spirits already!