[Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney, of course. Characters from the CC belong to their creators; everyone else belongs to me, I guess. Wow, I'm not used to OC disclaimers at all.]
[Quick note number one: I did, in fact, write out all of the shoutouts, the "next time" and plug for the last chapter. And somewhere between my hard drive and FFnet, they got eaten. Arrrrg. Sorry.]
[Quick note number two: see the request at the end of the chapter, pretty please.]
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
(Chapter Ten: In the Infirmary)
"Hi, Mom. I missed you too."
She ignored his comment. "Well, Jack?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't call, but I'm kind of sick."
"And you'd like me to do what about it? For God's sake, you're supposed to be seventeen, and I do not have time to–"
"Mom!" he half-yelled, cutting her off. "Sorry to interrupt whatever you're doing, I know how much you like pretending I don't exist when I'm gone–"
"Jackson Francis Sullivan Kelly, don't you dare take that tone with me. Either tell me what you need or get off the phone; I'm expecting your father to call."
"Dad?" he asked, genuinely surprised. His parents rarely spoke, and when they did it was usually to argue about which one of them would be responsible for paying for his plain tickets.
"No. Jordan is–"
"Jordan's not my dad."
"Jack, I do not have time for this."
"Well, it ain't exactly my idea of a good time either, but the camp nurse wanted to talk to you."
"Can't you have her call your father?"
"Somehow I doubt Dad remembers if I had chicken pox as a kid."
"And you expect me to? God, Jack–"
"Look, just talk to the nurse, awright? Sorry. It wasn't like I wanted to get sick or anything."
"Jack." She paused, then sighed. "Jack, I'm sorry you're not feeling well, I just I'm a bit stressed at the moment, and Jordan was supposed to call an hour ago and Oh, never mind."
"It's okay." He recognized the tone and what she always thought was subtle language, but wasn't. She and Jordan had probably had another fight, he had probably left the house afterwards and hadn't come back yet. "Don't worry, I'm sure things will be fine," he added, because as much as he hated his step father, he did care about his mother.
"So you've got the chicken pox?"
"Looks like it." It always amazed him how quickly his mother could shift modes; it was like once she got something off her chest–even if she didn't think he'd understood it–then she could be calm. Or maybe she knew he understood, given his answer, and she still preferred to pretend things were fine. After all, she'd pretended for three years before she'd divorced his father
He pushed the thought out of his mind.
"Well, I don't remember if you had it off the top of my head, but I can call the doctor's office tomorrow and find out if they've got a record."
"Okay, thanks, Mom. Can you spare a second to talk to the nurse?"
"I suppose. Put her on."
"'Kay." He covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and yelled down the hall for Triage to pick up. "'Bye," he added as she picked up, but his mother ignored him in favor of talking to Triage. He clicked the phone off and tossed it down on David's bed, then slumped until he was lying down on his own. "That coulda been worse," he murmured aloud.
"You okay?" David asked.
"Yeah, I guess. My mom is crazy is all."
"How so?"
He shrugged. "Just" He trailed off. "I fucking hate the way Jordan treats her. And when they fight she gets in a really pissy mood and I guess I have bad timing, 'cause Yeah, anyway, it's fine."
David looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't and bit his lip a little. "Sorry," he finally said.
"Don't worry about it." Jack rolled on to his side, so he was facing David, and gave him a wan smile. "Mom's not so bad, when Jordan isn't being an asshole. First Dad and then him It's like she wants to screw her life up or something."
"Maybe" David trailed off. "I think, there are some people who just like to find people who are, I guess, kind of not good people to try and fix them or something. Not that I think your dad isn't–"
"Dave, my dad's the worst person I know. It's okay."
"Jack" David started, then trailed off. "I'm sure he's not that bad."
Jack shrugged. He was that bad, but if David didn't want to hear about it, that was okay. David was lucky not to know anyone like that. Jack just wished he could be so lucky.
David still looked like he wanted to say something, then finally commented, "You know, I don't live that far from New York–if you ever need somewhere to crash, I mean, if you don't want to go to your Dad's."
Jack broke into a grin, though he didn't have a chance to answer. Triage called back through the hallway that David could call his parents, and also give the phone to Les so he could say hello. So Jack just smiled as David reached for the phone, groaned at the effort moving took, and dialed.
*
"Jacobs residence, who's calling?"
David couldn't help it; he hadn't been homesick, but hearing his mother's voice still made him grin. "Hi, Mom."
"David!" She paused, and he could hear her yell away from the phone, "Mayer, pick up, it's David!"
There was the sound of another phone clicking on. "David, how are you? I didn't think you were allowed to make phone calls from camp."
"Not until the third week, but, uh, I'm kind of sick. So the nurse wanted me to call home and double check some medical–"
"Sick?" Esther interrupted. "David, it's only a four and a half our drive, we can be there in three hours–"
"Mom, it's okay. I'm fine, mostly, just. Um. Sick."
"Sick with what?"
"Chicken pox, I guess. I mean, I thought I had it as a kid, and Les is sick too, but it's going around camp and Well, I've got it."
"Oh, David, bubula, I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Mayer, can you call Doctor Spiegal on the other line and ask him to check David's charts?"
"Mmm. Hang on a minute, son, I'll be right back." The second line clicked off.
"So how are you, Mom?" David asked.
"Oh, things here are fine. I ran into that adorable Rachel Shapiro from your class with her mother a few days ago, and"
David only half-listened for a minute or so; he barely knew who Rachel Shapiro was, and didn't think he'd ever actually spoken to her. He suspected that she was a friend of Sarah's, the name sounded familiar.
"but I haven't gotten a single letter from you, David."
He recognized his cue to tune back in. "Sorry, Mom. I meant to write you last week but I've been so busy I've barely had a chance."
"Busy? Tell me all about it. Have you been having a good time?"
"Uh." He didn't really want to admit that his parents had been right, and camp wasn't the most awful thing he'd ever experienced, but the truth was They were right, and camp wasn't the most awful thing he'd ever been through. "The food is pretty bad," he finally said. "But most of the people I've met have been pretty cool–"
"See, David, if you just give people a chance–"
"Mo-om," he interrupted, and heard Jack chuckle at him. "Shut up," he hissed.
"David!"
"Not you, Mom, Jack is making fun of me."
"And who's this Jack, David?"
"He's one of my friends, and, uh, a riding councilor."
"You've been riding?" Esther asked, sounding pleasantly shocked.
"No. You know how I feel about horses."
"David, I thought you were over that."
"I had to see a child therapist for two years. It's not the sort of thing you just get over. Anyway. But yeah, things here haven't been so bad."
"So what've you been so busy with if you haven't been riding, hmm? How are Sarah and Les?"
"Uh, fine, I guess. Other than being sick. I mean, I don't see them much–Sarah mostly rides and Les is in a totally different age group, so"
"Of course. So then what have you been up to?"
"Well, theater, mostly."
"Theater?" she asked, sounding surprised again. "You? On stage?"
"Geez, Mom, it's not a big deal. I mean, I wasn't a lead or anything–"
"David, that's wonderful. You know, your father used to do a lot of theater in college, I met him working on a production–"
"Of Blithe Spirit, I know," David interrupted.
"Well, of course you do," Esther answered, only vaguely offended that David had cut off what she considered her favorite romantic story. She knew he already knew it, though; she told it with startling frequency.
"One of the guys in my bunk does a lot of theater so he kind of made me audition and It wasn't so bad. I got a part in this week's play, too, but it looks like I'm going to be stuck in the infirmary for awhile so I don't think I'll be able to do it. But it was pretty cool."
"So have you been outside at all?"
"Uh." He paused. "Well, I did try archery," he added, which was true, though he hadn't gone back since. "And I go swimming every day. Do you want to say hi to Les?" Changing the subject seemed like the easiest way to avoid explaining that yes, he was still too pale and too skinny, and it wasn't going to change. He forced himself to stand up, which took more energy than he wanted to admit, and walked down the hallway to the room where Les was dozing.
"Of course. But don't forget to write to us, David," she reminded him.
He shook Les's shoulder gently. "I won't," he promised. "Bye, Mom. Love you."
"I love you too, David."
"Here's Les," he finished, and handed the phone to his little brother, waited to hear Les's sickly, "Hi, Mom," and headed back to his own room, and immediately collapsed back onto his bed with a groan.
"You okay?"
"Sore."
"Me too." Jack paused. "Did you mean it when you offered to let me stay at your house?"
"Sure," David answered. "I mean, my parents would be thrilled at the thought of me having a friend over–it's really sad how much of a loser they think I am."
"I don't think you're a loser."
David smiled up at the ceiling. The thought that Jack didn't consider him a loser was, somehow, comforting.
*
Bumlets picked up his water bottle and settled on one of the benches, and checked his watch. That was becoming less of a habit and more a nervous tick or a minor obsessive compulsive action, but didn't bother him that much. One activity hour left. Only a day until his day off
It wasn't that he disliked working at camp so much as he just found spending extended amounts of time with that many loud, hyperactive children irritating. He was a mellow enough person that he didn't snap at them, and for the most part they thought he was nice and liked him as a councilor, but he was definitely looking forward to spending some time outside of camp.
While waiting for his next group of kids to show up, he saw Specs wander in, still dripping from the waterfront, t-shirt in one hand and towel around his neck. "Um," Bumlets started, catching his attention with a wave. "Can I ask a probably stupid question?"
"Yeah, sure." Specs set his glasses down on one of the benches and leaned over to towel off his hair, then straightened up and put the glasses back on. "What's up?"
"Aren't you supposed to be a swimming councilor? Like Shouldn't you be at the waterfront?"
"Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" Specs answered cheerfully, then set down his towel and pulled his shirt on.
"Well, yes. But you seem to be, you know, here, an awful lot."
"What happened was that I was supposed to be a theater councilor. But they decided to hire Stage at last minute, and because I'm so very multitalented, they switched me to swimming. But I don't have a swim group for this hour, and I'm a theater guy at heart, and–hey!"
A piece of wadded up paper bounced off the back of his head. He turned around to see Stage a few bench rows behind him, feigning innocence. "Is he complaining that I stole his job again?" she asked.
"Well you did."
"Whatever." She thwapped the back of his head and wandered away.
"See, you'd never know she's in love with me from that." He picked up the piece of paper and threw it back at her, missed, and she turned around for long enough to roll her eyes and then make a face at the back of his head as soon as he sat down.
"Uh Okay." Bumlets was left with the distinct impression that he was missing something.
Specs shrugged. "Long story."
"I'll take your word for that."
"Oh, and Dutchy said to tell you that there's a club that'll admit under-21 in town, just a few local bands playing, but better than sitting around watching infomercials all night. If you're interested."
"Sounds good, I guess."
"Yeah, trust Dutchy to find things like that," Specs said, sounding fairly dreamy. Bumlets wasn't quite sure how to react to that, but another wadded up piece of paper hit the back of Specs's head, and this time he got to his feet and began to chase Stage around the theater. Bumlets watched for a second, not entirely sure what was going on between the two of them, but was distracted by Pie Eater ushering in a group of seven and eight year old girls and boys, ready for an hour of theater and dance. It was time to get back to work.
He checked his watch again as he got up.
*
It was about twenty minutes later that Triage reappeared in the boys' room, finally off the phone with David's mother. "Well, David, you definitely never had chicken pox as a kid," she announced.
"But Sarah" he mumbled, and rolled over on to his side so that he could actually talk with her instead of into the air.
"According to your mother, Sarah did have chicken pox, and you were at your grandparents' house that week, so you stayed an extra few days until she recovered," Triage explained. "And Les never had it either, so you didn't get it from him."
"Oh." David dug through his memories, and while he didn't remember having had it before, he didn't really remember Sarah having had it, either. But he supposed his mother was right, she'd probably checked it with the doctor, and she remembered those things.
"And Jack, your mother said she'd try and get back to me later this evening."
"Yeah," Jack muttered. "I'm sure she'll remember."
Triage didn't comment on how cynical he sounded, though given her brief conversation with his mother, she wasn't terribly surprised either. "And we'll all be taking a field trip to the doctor's tomorrow."
"Gee. Goody."
"So how are the two of you feeling at the moment?" she continued.
"Tired and itchy," David said.
"Achy. Sore. And really itchy," Jack added.
"Well, don't scratch; that just irritates the pox further and can lead to them being infected. And you may develop some on rather–um–delicate areas, and you certainly don't want those infected."
She didn't get a reply other than two nearly identical grimaces, and David's face slowly turning bright red. She managed not to laugh at him; that would have been unprofessional.
"In the mean time, I've got some Benadryl cream, which will take away the itching. I trust you two would rather apply it yourselves than have me do it." Jack nodded, and David made a squawk that sounded like it was probably affirmative. "You might have to do each other's backs, but I'll let you figure out your own comfort zones," she finished, and handed Jack a white tube of cream.
"Thanks," he said, and she smiled cheerfully, waved, and left them to their own devices. Jack sat up and uncapped the tube, causing a distinctly medicinal smell to fill the room. He wrinkled his nose a little and squeezed some of the cream onto one of his fingers and began to find the sores and cover them. He sighed with relief as the cool cream took some of the sting out, and handed the tube over to David, who hesitantly sat up.
David began to coat his own sores and had to agree that, even if the medicine hadn't kicked in yet, the cool feeling was nice. He finished, then looked at Jack. "So. Uh. Your back?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind. I mean, I'll get yours too. Of course."
"Okay. Yeah, sure."
Jack paused for another second, then looked away from David and pulled his shirt off. "Probably looks pretty gross," he mumbled.
"I'm probably worse," David pointed out, and managed to get to his feet and walk the few steps to where Jack was sitting. He perched carefully on the bed behind Jack and began to rub some of the ointment on to the fierce red spots, and was glad that there was no way Jack could see the bright red color of his face.
Jack, on the other hand, wasn't blushing, but was staring very intently at the pillow in front of him and trying to think of what a cold shower felt like instead of how gentle David's hands felt against his skin. But then David finished and capped the tube; Jack pulled his shirt back on and hoped that the cream was rubbed in enough that it wouldn't smear around on the fabric or anything, and turned around to face David.
"Uh Thanks."
"Sure." David hesitated.
"So, you, um, want me to get your back?" Jack asked, and could have kicked himself for sounding like an idiot. It was just a casual thing, after all, and they were both sick. There was absolutely no reason for the thought of David taking off his shirt to make him sound so flustered.
"Uh, yeah," David agreed, and echoed Jack's earlier movement of staring straight down at the ground while he took his shirt off. Jack reached for the cream and opened it again, then carefully began to apply it to David's back, and ignored the fact that his hands were very slightly shaky.
He tried to force his thoughts back to his imaginary cold shower, but couldn't quite manage it, and instead heard himself saying without stopping to consult his brain, "Hey, are you as sore as I am?"
"I guess so. Uh, why?" David asked.
And again, Jack didn't stop to think; he'd finished rubbing on the cream, but instead of just letting David go, which he knew in some part of his brain that David probably wanted to do quickly, he began to gently rub David's shoulders. "Um, is that okay?" Jack asked, realizing that it was entirely possible he was crossing over some sort of line, and that David could easily be mad at him for it. Hell, David could probably get me fired for it, he added mentally.
David didn't say anything for a minute, and Jack hesitated a little, but didn't stop. "That feels Pretty good," David finally murmured.
"Oh. Good." Jack managed to not breath a sigh of relief, though he felt it very much. "I mean, I just figured that since I know I feel so damn achy"
"You hinting at something, Cowboy?"
"What? Oh, God, no." Jack hoped he didn't sound as panicked as he suddenly felt.
"Okay, fine. I won't offer to repay the favor, then."
This time, Jack did exhale noticeably, but David didn't say anything about it. "Maybe I'll con you into it later," Jack finally replied.
"Sure. And, um, thanks."
"No problem, Dave." He gave David's back one last gentle rub–was it his imagination, or did David seem to sigh a little bit? Probably just his imagination–and let his arms drop; David pulled his t-shirt back on and scrambled back to his own bed.
Jack watched David for a minute, though he didn't really mean to, and didn't realize he was until David half-turned away from him. "What?" David asked. Jack didn't say anything, though he noticed that David looked a little pink. "What?" David asked again, when Jack didn't stop staring and didn't reply.
You're cute when you blush, Jack thought, but aloud just said, "Nothing. I think I'm gonna nap for awhile."
"Okay. I'll just, um, finish my book." He gestured sheepishly to where Kristy's Great Idea still lay on the floor, then picked it up and made himself comfortable before opening it. He glanced over at Jack, who had laid down and rolled over to face the other wall, and then looked down.
But somehow, he found himself doing more thinking than reading. Getting a back rub from Jack had been awkward, but that wasn't what bothered him, it was the kind of awkward. It wasn't a sort of man-those-sores-are-gross awkward, or even an I'm-too-manly-to-give-another-boy-a-massage kind of awkward. It had been Different.
He flipped a page idly, discovered he'd finished the book, and set it next to his bed. If Jack was napping, he might as well try to follow suit, but somehow he just kept feeling Jack's callused fingers on his shoulders. Somewhere between wondering if it was working at a ranch that had toughened the skin on Jack's fingers, and why he was thinking so hard about a stupid little backrub, David drifted off to sleep again.
[end chapter ten]
AN: First, for those who don't have a stereotypical Jewish extended family (probably most of you, really,) "bubula," is a Yiddish term of endearment. At least, I assume it's Yiddish. I may have accidentally turned Esther and Mayer into a few of my cousins, but I love them to death and they'll be making more appearances before the end of the summer.
Actually, I really like Jack's mom, too; she was difficult to write, but I like how that turned out. (Unrelated, for purposes of this story, Jack was named for his mother's childhood pet dog, Jackson, and his father, Francis. Sullivan is his father's last name; Kelly is his mother's maiden name, but she now uses Jordan's last name, which Jack most emphatically refuses to do. Unimportant background information is fun! Well, for me, anyway.)
The page has been updated again, with beeeautiful illustrations by Lute, who is now totally my hero. Not that she wasn't before. ;) It's linked to in my profile, I'd type it here as a reminder, but I think that's what screwed up the last chapter I uploaded and ate everyone's shoutouts.
A quick request. Obviously, fighting and pranks are going to be a large part of upcoming chapters, what with Sarah and Hotshot and all (and then hazing later in the story–much later), but I have trouble writing that. Because I'm a giant goody two shoes, who went out of my way to avoid all things of that sort. So I'm looking for a few good ideas for what the girls can do to each other; nothing actually cruel or illegal, just typical pranks and such. Feel free to send 'em in to me, leave them in reviews or email me with them (studentnumber24601atyahoodotcom).
That said, the last note for the chapter, thanks to my mom for being a nurse who happens to know things like what the symptoms of chicken pox are in a teenage boy. She's very helpful like that. (She also was a camp nurse for a few years, and it's entirely possible she's the basis for Triage's character. ::cough::)
Next time: I'm not entirely sure. Probably the girls fighting with each other, or Specs, Dutchy and Bumlets's day off, or more Jack and David in the infirmary. Probably a combination there of. ;)
Plug! As The Curtain Falls by Sita-chan, though judging by the amount of responses she got to the CC, you've probably all already read it. In which case, But I'm a Prep!, also by Sita-chan, because it's fabulous.
Shoutouts! Assuming FFnet doesn't, you know, eat them again. I broke 200 reviews! Woo!
Omni — Actually, you never answered the CC. I was very sad. Pout.
Hotshot (#1) — I do love Jack's mother, because she's interesting to write for, if nothing else. She's certainly not very nice to Jacky boy. And as for slash, well, one of the boys is secure in his sexuality, and it's not David, and that could really go in any direction. Or just be slash. Whatever.
Apparently, Ele Keates accidentally punched a wall and hurt her hand during a rehearsal; I only know about that because Stage mentioned it in a review. (FFnet ate most of the shoutouts; half of hers and yours were the only survivors)
Shot Hunter — First, just curious, why the name change? ;) I can't remember having had chicken pox myself, but wanted to do something involving sick campers in the story, and figured that was just miserable enough. Something about my love of tormenting my favorite characters (Actually, neither Jack nor David is my favorite, but they kind of are in this story, I guess.)
Stage — Yay! Glad you liked. I hope I haven't destroyed your character or anything in this chapter, I just needed a way out, and Stage (well, you, I guess) arguing with Specs amused me, so Yeah. Anyhoo. Aww, I love your reviews. They always cheer me up greatly. :D And hee, savvy. Man, I love me some Johnny Depp Your profile was fine, BTW, though I kind of extrapolated from the small amount I know you from the NJL. But yes. Lurve to you.
Rumor — I was actually in this play in middle school, which is why I used it here, but needless to say, our Wolf wasn't as good as Mush. But really, who could be? Spot will be there to cause trouble later, but he doesn't come up much until near the end. Um, yes. Specs is a swimming councilor. Pay no attention to the giant plot hole, see, I managed to cover it neatly! Pay attention to dripping-wet-shirtless!Specs instead. That's what he's there for. Oh, and Dave took the book with him because he hadn't finished it yet. See, mine I got as hand-me-downs, and I have no idea where they ended up, but haven't seen them in years Hm.
Skinflint — Ahahahahahahahahahahaha! But where/when was that show? Because I saw Jian solo at one point my freshman year (so that would have been two years ago, I think during October or so) in North Hampton (I think), Mass, and we got there fairly early. I ran to the bathroom before the show started, with a line behind me, and when I got out, Jian had cut everyone in line Heh. I've also seen the band as a whole four times (and convinced my parents to take me and my sister all the way to Toronto to go to the Con and the last show, pay for the hotel, and tickets. That took some serious begging) And I nearly hyperventilated when I asked Murray for his autograph. I'm kind of in love with him. A lot.
Um, yes, I may be an obsessive lunatic fanatic. :-D
Anyway, in non-Fruvous related things, most of my BSC knowledge has disappeared–finally. I don't remember the titles of all of the books anymore :)
Seraph — Apparently, Ele Keates hurt her hand at a rehearsal or somesuch; I'm not really sure, I only knew because Stage mentioned it to me.
Gothic Author — I do that to Race because I love him. I have an abandoned fic sitting around my computer which was 20 pages long, and he got severely beaten up at least three times during those 20 pages, and would have at least twice more if I had ever finished it. It's tough to be my favorite. (Though I think I'm meaner to him than I am to Blink, who's my actual favorite, but whatever.) But definitely send me those pranks And maybe Update Matchmaker? Pleeeease? Because I always need another hit of Blink/Mush
Artemis — Well, at least they're pretty gay guys :) Yes, those books are evil, so easy to accidentally pick up and read. They're popcorn novels. Anyway, I hope being home is a good thing and you're having a nice rest-of-summer.
Dreamer — Thanks for the suggestions, though I haven't seen the Parent Trap in years. I may have to rewatch it now. :) And their bunkmates will definitely all choose sides or get annoyed, but I can't really blame them.
Lee — Race? Get himself into trouble again? Naaaah, never ;) Thank you for reading!
Hotshot (#2) — Yep, I'm pretty that at one point, Mondie threatened my life for making fun of Mush. Mush fans get crazy defensive Wicked defensive, even. (I go to college outside of Boston; Mass slang has become part of most of my friends' vocabularies, though I don't think I've ever said wicked before.)
Erm, Specs is a swimming councilor. Pay no attention to the gaping plot hole; look at pretty dripping-wet-shirtless!Specs instead. See? Isn't that more fun than noticing things the slacker author didn't? :)
Klover — I feel bad for Jack too, though I like writing for his mother.
Hotshot (#3) — "I'm picking up a baby bumble bee, won't my mommy be so proud of me"? That song? Ught. I had managed to block it from my memory until you said that Not sure we ever sang it at camp, but I remember it from elementary school.
Okay, more soon! I hope! Thanks again for all the fabulous feedback! :)
-B