Criminally Vulgar
Chapter 3-
Finch had been at New Grace for barely a week when he and Bradley got word of another new arrival. The camp buzzed about it for a while, and then they were gathered around the front drive to welcome their new member. They watched the car circle the carpool, and a stocky, red-haired woman stepped out, waddling to the trunk to retrieve her son's luggage. From the back seat, a short boy kicked the door open and dragged himself out dejectedly. This, Bradley thought, is how a camper here should look. He glanced at Finch beside him, who stared ahead as stonily as usual. Not like this guy. Bradley shifted his gaze back to the new kid, eyes drawn to the striking green hat he wore. The counselors pushed their way to the front of the crowd, ready to receive their newest resident.
"Hello there, young man," said one, leaning down on a knee and laying a hand on the boy's shoulder, who only stared at it morosely. "What's your name?"
The answering voice sounded miserable and deplete of life. "Kyle Broflovski." It did nothing to dampen the counselor's seeming enthusiasm. He turned to the gaggle of boys on the curb.
"Let's give Kyle a warm Camp New Grace welcome!" The welcome he received was mumbled, and matched Kyle's own lackluster. His mother came up beside the counselor, setting the bags she carried down carefully.
"Thank you so much for taking him." The counselor stood.
"Don't worry- your son is in good hands." Kyle stared at his shoes glumly. Bradley felt a pang of sympathy for him- he knew exactly what kind of hands he was in, and didn't blame him for looking so down. He watched on as Kyle was hugged and kissed goodbye before his mother climbed back into the van and drove away. He was left alone on the drive, standing in front of the crowd of blue-shirted campers and counselors. If possible, his frown seemed to deepen.
Bradley and Finch didn't see Kyle again until small group discussion time after worship. The counselor in charge, an optimistic young man, stood up and cleared his throat to get his group's attention.
"As you may know, we are joined by a new camper today. Everyone, please say hello to Kyle!"
"Hi, Kyle," they droned. Kyle managed a wave and a tedious half-smile.
"Since Kyle is new, we're going to start discussion off with quick introductions. Kyle, why don't you go first?"
"Uh, I'm Kyle Broflovski…" The counselor nodded, pressing for more. "I'm ten years old, and I like the color green." Bradley noted that his hat was still on, clashing with the blue of his camp shirt. The counselor asked the other boys to go around the circle, giving their name, age, and something they like. The introductions made their way around to Bradley.
"I'm Bradley," he mumbled, hand itching to come up to his mouth. "I'm ten, and I like…" He struggled with what to say. Not Butters. "…pizza." The counselor nodded and called out to Finch, who sat slumped next to Bradley.
"Nathan, how about you?"
"My name is Finch- not Nathan. I'm thirteen, and I'd like to get out of this hellhole." The counselor stared at him incredulously, and he continued just as dryly, "But it doesn't look like that'll happen anytime soon." He had the attention of the entire group, and more than a few of the boys were looking at him as if he were a prophet sent to speak the words they dare not say themselves. Bradley, however, saw the counselor's face twist into an indignant rage.
"Nathan, I will not tolerate such insolence!"
Finch held his hands up in lethargic surrender. "My bad."
"We're going to focus on why we are here, for that smart little comment and because Kyle is new." There was a collective groan from the group. The counselor paid them no mind. "You are here," he continued loftily, "because you all are confused." He swept a pointed finger around the group. "But know that God does not want you to be confused. He wants you to be straight, and live a normal, happy life."
Bradley inwardly scoffed- like you couldn't be gay and live a normal, happy life. But even as he thought that, he wondered just what it would be like to live out. Would people leave well enough alone, or would hate follow him like a shadow? Or would he find support?
"Kyle, do you know what the New Testament says about homosexuals?"
"No."
"Why not?" The question was open, not condescending, so as to encourage discussion about forging a relationship with God.
"Because I'm Jewish," Kyle said flatly. Bradley could see him almost flush while meeting the counselor's eyes with a steady look. The counselor, however, looked a bit off-balance. This obviously wasn't the answer he was looking for.
"O-Oh, well…"
"Why the hell did your mom send you to a Catholic gay camp if you're Jewish?" Finch asked. Kyle's brow knitted and he shot a glare at Finch.
"Because she wanted me cured, dumbass!"
The counselor snapped back to action. "We do not allow such language here at Camp—"
"Like you can cure homosexuality. That's a load of bullshit," Finch interrupted, ignoring the counselor's admonishments.
"Now wait a—"
"That's what I told my mom, but she didn't listen!"
"Sucks for you."
"Damn right, it does! Sucks for all of us!"
"THAT'S IT!" The counselor yelled. Apparently, he had reached his breaking point. "Both of you, and your accountabilibuddies, go see the director!"
Kyle's face fell a little, and he feebly objected, "But sir, I don't have an—"
"I don't care! Just go!"
The three boys walked down the empty halls with their tails between their legs; except for Finch, who looked more peeved that they had been sent to the authority than anything. The distant medley of hymns and sermons was broken only by the sound of their shuffling footsteps. The melancholy near-silence was stifling to Bradley, and he decided to speak up.
"Sorry your first day had to be this crappy," he said to Kyle.
"That's okay," Kyle sighed. "It's my own fault, anyway."
Bradley shot Finch a cursory glare. "Not if you hadn't been provoked." Finally, Finch turned to him, blank stare abandoned for a quirked eyebrow, as if to say "So I'm the bad guy now?" Kyle shook his head.
"I would have snapped eventually." Another stifling silence. "I can't make it through this camp."
Bradley looked at him, eyes wide with horror. "You can't be serious. You haven't even been here a full day!"
"I know. But there's no way they can get me to believe this shit. They'll have to let me go sooner or later." Visible relief shot through Bradley.
"So you aren't thinking of…" Kyle turned to him, innocent and quizzical.
"Of what?"
They had approached the office, and Finch grabbed the handle, looking sidelong at Kyle. "You don't know?" He opened the door and went inside, followed by Bradley.
"Know what?" Kyle prodded, but his question was forgotten under the director's eye. They stood side-by-side, like ducks in a shooting range. Bradley and Kyle seemed to want to shrink into the floor, and Finch kept his usual look of apathetic disdain. The older man opened his mouth with a loud smack.
"I understand that your group leader will be joining us shortly, boys," he said simply, authoritatively. Bradley's fingers rose to his lips, Kyle stared at his feet, and Finch gave the room a lazy once-over. The group leader came in the door, apparently still very upset with them.
"Director, these three were causing a lot of disruption during group time. They were using vulgar language, ignoring my authority, and resisting God's plan for them." The director looked at them in turn.
"Well, boys, what do you have to say for yourselves?"
"Sorry, sir," Kyle and Bradley muttered. Finch's contribution sounded suspiciously like "I'd do it again". Under the glares of both the director and the group leader, he changed his response to the appropriate one.
"Since you three obviously don't respect our mission here, maybe writing essays on why homosexuality is wrong would do you some good. I expect them by tomorrow evening." They relented, and were led out by the group leader, when Kyle suddenly turned around, and made his way back through the open door.
"Um, Director, sir? I don't have an accountabilibuddy." He stumbled over the unfamiliar word.
"Oh, well. John, I'm sure there are some kids needing an accountabilibuddy." The words seemed to have some morbid meaning kept between staff members, because the group leader "John" nodded grimly and ushered Kyle out. Sending Finch and Bradley back to rejoin the group, he led Kyle through the halls. They came upon another staff worker.
"Hey, Gordon, we're looking for an accountabilibuddy. Any new ones?" John asked. Gordon nodded, also grim.
"Kevin's open. Room 24."
"Thanks." Then, turning to Kyle and putting on a smile that was obviously forged, "Well, let's go get your stuff and drop it off in your new room. You can meet your accountabilibuddy at lunch." Kyle nodded, a little unsettled by the counselors' sepulchral tones.
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