Berwald never understood why his mother made him go to camp. She knew that he was not very socially inclined and that he would rather be at home, delving into paper worlds of halcyon and adventure. It was crazy.

Alright. Fine. Not that crazy. It was one week in the summer, not too much of a big deal.

Still. One week with strangers and other twelve-year-olds. All of those twelve-year-olds acting more their age than Berwald did. He knew his mother meant well, though. So he might as well endure it and not complain. As if he did complained.

"Be good, okay?" His mother kissed his forehead.

"Är jag någonsin inte bra?" he asked, raising and eyebrow at her.

His mother smiled, "And remember to use your English. You're very good, but we need to catch you up so we can send you to real school."

This year he was going to start real American school, instead of homeschooling with his mother. Coincidentally, this camp was partly advertised for transitioning kids who had just emigrated from other countries to the U.S.

Though he did see a few American kids running around, clumsily

"Well, I gotta go. Have fun, sötnos." She kissed him once again and gave him a small hug, "I love you."

"L've y' t'."

His mother left and Berwald stared at the door of his cabin. Two boys were sitting on a bottom bunk, talking quietly. The other was actually doing somersaults off the top bunk. And he wasn't breaking his face. Yet.

"Oi! Mathias, stop it. I don't wanna clean your blood up." A counselor emerged from the bathroom during the third jump, catching the kid in midair. Mathias giggled almost maniacally and the counselor put him down, petting the top of his head. He looked up and noticed Berwald.

"Hey, kid. What's up?" The counselor gave the sweeping arm of invitation. Berwald walked in slowly, looking around the cabin a bit more. There were two bunks, plus a nice double bed and a cot. The bed and cot were separated from the actual camper part of the room by half of a wooden wall.

The counselor smiled at him, "You must be Berwald Oxen-stare-naah."

The butchery of his last name was dismissed, because one of the boys on the bottom bunk was staring at him really intensely. Like, he was staring into his soul and thought that a devil was going to burst forward and inform him of the exact coordinates of to where he could find the mangled and twisted heart of Davey Jones.

He nodded vaguely and slung his bag onto the last empty bunk, not breaking eye contact with the boy. He was so creepy. The friend he was sitting next to him got up. He climbed onto the bunk above Berwalds, glaring at him slightly.

"Don't mind him, he's sour." Said Mathias, smiling brightly.

Um. Okay?

"Shush, Mathias." The counselor sat on a raggedy carpet on the middle of the floor, "C'mon guys. This is everyone, so proper introductions. HEY, HERC. GET IN HERE."

"I prefer 'Your Royal Demi-God Sir'." A teenager lead in four more boys.

"No, Herc. Only counselors get cool nicknames." Said the counselor. The teenage boy sat next to him, "Yeah, like yours is sooo cool. C'mon, boys. Sit down!"

The four obediently sit. Creepy-Eyes and Mathias follow suit. Sour plops down next to Mathias, glaring at him. Finally, when he feels a little less awkward, Berwald sits by an enthusiastic blonde boy with glasses.

"Okay, here we go." Said the counselor "This is Herc" he gestures to the teenager "and you can call me….Goop." he gave them a second to laugh at this "I know it's funny. I get the laughter. So, let me just give you the rap. I'm the counselor, Herc is the C.I.T. We have two different cabins, but the eight of you are under our wing. Wings. Herc'll be taking more care of the ones in the next door cabin. I'll be handling you other boys. We'll switch around a bit, but that's basically it!"

"And now," Herc said "We shall be introducing ourselves. Let's start over here." He nodded the younger boy sitting next to him.

"Um…I'm Mathew." He said very, very quietly. He did not continue, just stared at the floor. The boy next to him, who had enormous eyebrows, coughed and straightened his back, "I'm Arthur. I'm from England. Don't make fun of my eyebrows."

"Duly noted." Said Goop "Next?"

"Uh…I'm Tino." Berwald looked at the boy speaking. He was sitting straight across from him in the circle, with big blue eyes. "I am from Finland."

"I am Ivan." Eee-van, not eye-vin. "Russia."

"Mathias from Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenmark! Whoo!" he pumped his fist and Sour glared at him again.

"Lukas from Norway." He said, tucking a piece of long hair behind an ear.

"Wow, we got a lot of Nordics." Herc mentions, turning to Berwald.

"B'rw'ld. Sw'd'n." he said quietly

Tino smiled brightly at him. Had he smiled like that for everyone else? Berwald wondered how a smile could seem to matter like that.

"And I am Alfred F. Jones, from good ol' U-S-A! Welcome to my country! Also, Mathew is my brother, but he lives in Canada. The hat of the U.S." The enthusiastic boy gets more enthusiastic as he starts talking more about America. Talk about pride.

"Okay, cool! We're gonna go down for dinner now. You can sit with whoever you like during mealtimes, by the way." Goop said "But remember to be nice to the girls!"

"And other boys." Herc added

"Yes, and other boys. Then we have capture the flag in the field. Ready? Okay, lets go!"

They filed out of the cabin. Alfred and Mathew walked together, Alfred chattering and Mathew listening. Mathias walked behind then, occasionally contributing something. Lukas was walking slowly with Arthur, quietly. Ivan followed them and Tino followed him.

Berwald was at a loss. How did making friends work again?

"Hey! Berwald, you wanna sit with me at dinner?" Tino asked, falling back into stride with him.

Oh. That's right. Be nice. Say something interesting. Be eloquent.

"Mhm."