After the big lunch, Matthew was surprised they went all out with a big dinner. But then again, this was one of the best summer camps in America. They had an ice rink! He had no idea how it was literally or financially possible to run, but clearly this camp just went all out.
He wondered if there was some kind of set course for all the meals? Surely Papa would be interested in what food was being served up.
He turned to Alfred.
"There isn't a food schedule or anything?"
"Yeah, somewhere." Alfred was completely distracted by where the food was being served. "Probably at the front," he concluded.
Matthew nodded (pointlessly since Alfred wasn't looking and didn't need the acknowledgement he was heard), resolving to check it out later. He felt obligated to keep the conversation going, but with Alfred's attention on the feast and he couldn't bring himself to say anything else.
Matthew pressed his lips together and let his posture slump. His glasses jostled and slid slightly forwards, but he didn't fix them. He still felt a little awkward around Alfred's friends, which consisted of a big group of people, somehow unsurprisingly. Maybe he could try talking to some of them? It was worth a shot. If he started random small talk then hopefully they wouldn't realise how awkward he really was.
He briefed a glance around, looking in the general direction of their faces and realised he'd forgotten half of their names.
He could probably get away with not using their names for now and wait until someone else says it.
He felt extra awkward being pressed up against these strangers. He tried not to move too much as his shoulders were constantly bumped. He could tell they were nice people, but being so close to them made him feel like his every movement was under a microscope causing him to tense up. Even though none of them were paying him any attention. And it wasn't doing him any favours to prevent him from overheating. Despite the fans whirring dangerously overhead it still felt like his organs were slow boiling. It was seriously too hot in here.
Luckily it wasn't long until one of the chaperones noticed.
"This isn't going to work. Some of you need to move," Elizabeta announced with her arms crossed. Behind her was the boy with pale hair who he had played dodgeball with, Matthew darted his eyes away when they accidentally made eye contact.
Great. Hopefully, that didn't make him seem rude.
After a brief moment of everyone staring at each other, Yao groaned and stood up. Once his group followed him and the remaining campers shuffled around, Matthew was able to breathe better with the newfound personal space.
Which was abruptly taken from him again when Alfred shuffled further and slapped the new space next to him.
"Emil! Where've you been?"
Emil shrugged and Matthew saw him dart his eyes between the two of them as he sat.
"Sorry to break it to you guys, but you can give up on watching a movie tonight," Elizabeta informed as she left. "Everyone will be unpacking."
"How surprising," said Zach pointedly.
"Yeah, bummer," Feliks cupped his hand in his hands.
"Com'on! Aren't we your favourites? What about tomorrow night?" Alfred pushed.
"Sorry guys, only on the rostered nights." Elizabeta elaborated with a smirk as she walked away, completely ignoring and refraining from confirming if she had favourites.
"Wow, okay then." Alfred clutched his hand over his heart like he was truly heartbroken.
"Yeah, like, just rude," Feliks pretended to wipe a tear.
"She just wanted to spare your feelings," Carlos added. Alfred scrunched his face up at him.
"Anyway Emil this is Matthew, and Matthew this is Emil. Wait, I just remembered you met earlier so nevermind. It's hard to keep track. That's the last of 'em Mattie, I promise," Alfred quickly pointed between the two boys to change the subject.
"Nice to properly meet you," Matthew said pleasantly as he maintained what he hoped was the right ratio of eye contact.
"Likewise," Emil nodded as he sat beside Alfred.
The moment was disrupted by the nearest table jumping up to get their dinner. Alfred groaned and stretched himself to look over at the front.
"I really didn't expect this," Emil said to Alfred in an oddly apathetic way, seemingly contradicting his words. "I thought you were exaggerating."
"What? About Mattie? Uh no." Alfred scoffed.
Matthew fought down the anxious urge at the mention of his name.
Emil just shrugged. "You've exaggerated before."
"Not about serious stuff!"
Matthew leaned back on the bench as he watched. He felt compelled to put himself in the exchange but didn't know what to say. It was easier and more comfortable to say nothing, even though he wanted to.
"Serious?"
"Cus it's seriously awesome! Could you even tell us apart?"
"Yes," Emil said certainly and Alfred deflated a little.
"Well, you have shorter hair and your glasses are different," Toris pointed out. "So until you grow your hair out..."
"Even then," Carlos interjected, "You act completely different. You're loud and dumb, we'd just know it's you."
"And your voice is rougher," Emil added.
"Gee, thanks." Alfred replied dryly and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "You're such good friends to know me so well."
It was at that moment Alfred's eyes skimmed to the side and widened, then darted out of his seat and towards the front. After a beat of confusion and realisation, the rest of his friends followed. Augustus was pointing at them.
Matthew let everyone bolt ahead. He pushed himself back into the seat to avoid being caught in the chaos. He waited until the table was empty before he slowly stood up and made his way over.
There were a lot of options, like before. With a plate in hand he eyed what he recognised. He figured he should just go for what he knew he liked. Now all he had to do was wait for the opportunity. But he couldn't take so long that the next table was called up or he'd never get in. He'd be so frustrated with himself if he just automatically let them in before him just to be polite and stand up at the front where everyone can see him for longer and wonder what the hell he was doing.
Matthew swiped up the nearest tongs and started scooping whatever was in reach onto his plate. That happened to be a few different types of salads and slices of meat. He almost forgot to grab cutlery and some water when he noticed the others were going back to the table.
At least he wasn't the last back. Alfred was waltzing back to the table with a cup of juice and his plate absolutely stacked with a bit of everything. From what Matthew could see there was a hastily made sandwich that really resembled a burger, a stack of kebabs, wings, ham slices... quite a lot of meat actually. He hoped that somewhere under there was at least a spoonful of salad but he couldn't be sure.
It only took a moment once everyone had sat down for the banter to pick up again.
"It's probably for the best we didn't go first," Carlos pointed at Alfred's meal, "there'd be nothing left for the poor little kids."
"Okay, and? Survival of the fittest," Alfred said with food in his mouth, pointedly looking at Carlos with disinterest.
"Hah, fittest?"
Matthew was very quickly picking up on their rivalry. Not that Carlos was trying to hide it much.
With food in front of him, Matthew suddenly realised just how hungry he was. Must've been all the energy he wasted being nervous the entire day. Since no one was speaking to him, he turned his attention to his food.
He jabbed his fork into some meat and watched as the large group surrounding the table divided into smaller conversations. Naturally with whoever was right next to them, but Matthew still found it telling who was closer to who.
Toris, the stunted boy, and the boy with glasses seemed to be a close circle. But every now and then Feliks would chime in and poke at Toris, who would respond every time. Toris seemed annoyed in a fond way and Feliks definitely knew what he was doing.
The happy twin was speaking to his brother very animatedly as he ate. The grumpy twin was preoccupied by eating but was still listening in. Adding to what his brother had to say or just disputing it.
Carlos was leaning back in his seat, eyes flicking under the table in a way that Matthew knew from watching his bolder classmates that he was on his phone. Not that Matthew knew why he was hiding that. Weren't they allowed to have their phones until nighttime?
Zach had disappeared and a quick look around revealed he was with Charlotte and Peter at a neighbouring table. There was pointing and shouting at someone on the opposite side of the room. No doubt they were the biggest contributors to the current volume.
Alfred was content to chat with whoever was closest or whoever would listen. Alfred just seemed to be able to talk with anyone and enjoy it. Currently, he was chatting with Emil, about who-knows-what. Alfred's conversations seem to be very fast-paced and evolved just as quickly. But since Alfred was eating at the same time, Matthew was glad his head was turned away.
He was relieved no one was demanding conversation from him. As much as he wanted to make a good impression and some friends, this environment was a bit too suffocating to really have a good go at it.
For now he was content to eat some good food.
Over time the dining hall became less crowded and the previous deafening background chatter had subsided. The younger kids had grown bored of just sitting around and raced back to their cabins to presumably, finish unpacking.
Realistically they were probably not. Especially since most of the chaperones stayed behind to help with dinner. Matthew had observed enough of his peers to know that unsupervised time is feral time.
Matthew's plate had long been picked clean, though some of the others around him hadn't completely finished in favour of chatter. Though to be fair most of the table had gone up for seconds at some point and grabbed generous servings.
He hadn't been pulled into the conversation for a while and it was getting hard to follow due to his lack of shared history. Matthew felt a little out of place and honestly bored of just sitting there. He had been thinking about slipping away for some time but was unable to find the opportunity to act on it.
But it was getting to the point of restlessness. Maybe is he was a little bolder he could create the opportunity. Feeling a bit proactive, he collected the empty plates within reach, giving him an excuse to stand up. He tried not to walk too rigidly as he imagined everyone's eyes on him, but no one called out to him so he told himself he was fine.
He disposed of the plates in an overflowing bin at the front. He made sure they wouldn't slide off and clatter onto the ground before turning around. Instead of returning to the table he walked straight outside. Mission success.
Stepping outside the stuffy building, Matthew noted it was cooler than earlier and was met with a pleasantly cool draft that ruffled his hair and brushed over his skin. More than happy to finally have some time alone, he made his way towards the lake shore.
In the corner of his eye, he could see a lot of people loitering by the cabins. So much for unpacking. He could imagine it being put off so they could do it later as a way to ward off having to go to sleep. That would be a strategic way to make the first day longer.
A slight wind sent ripples across the otherwise smooth surface of the water. The little waves formed a shiny pathway leading towards the radiant sun and causing anyone staring out at the water to squint.
A few people were loitering on the jetty, but Matthew paid them no mind as he moved towards the lakeside. In his mind, he was the only one here. They were far enough away that he couldn't even hear them beyond the occasional shriek as they threw things into the water.
He picked a shaded, grassy spot with a slight incline overlooking the body of water and lowered himself down. Hugging his knees into his chest, he relaxed and stared outwards and the calming scene.
It was nice to fully zone out, without having to keep tabs on everything going on around him. He didn't feel as tired as earlier - it was likely that he was just drained and needed some time to himself.
So he allowed his eyes to become lazy and the image of the rippling water blurred.
"Hey, Mattie!"
Matthew jerked from where he was staring off into the distance, his eyes falling on the boy running towards him.
"Whatcha doing?" Alfred asked as he caught up to him, slightly out of breath.
Not wanting to explain himself, considering it was mostly self-explanatory, Matthew just shrugged.
"Nothing."
"'kay," Alfred slid down the tree behind him and scooched closer. "It's so cold out here." He complained and crossed his legs.
"It's nice," Matthew responded, then hesitated. Even though he was drained, he still wanted to talk with Alfred. Maybe out of obligation or maybe because he still had a little bit of energy left. "It was too hot earlier."
"If ya say so. It's always cold every year but then I get used it to."
"Cold?"
"Well, it's warmer back home."
Matthew nodded. "Guess we both have to adjust."
"Yeah, it won't take long," Alfred replied encouragingly.
Matthew hoped so. He wasn't so great with the heat. At least with the cold, you can put on more clothes. Not that he ever needed to, being a thorough Canadian and all.
Matthew looked back towards camp. He couldn't see anyone coming their way.
"Did everyone go back to the cabins?"
"Yeah, I wanted to check where you went cus everyone else is being responsible and unpacking. I'm gonna unpack later though."
Not knowing where to take the conversation next, Matthew just nodded. Alfred said those words so simply, he wanted to check where Matthew was, does that mean he's made a friend? Or maybe Alfred wanted to do something more interesting than unpack, which he's shown a disinterest in. He probably couldn't explicitly ask. After a moment of staring across the lake, Alfred picked up the exchange.
"I packed games and stuff we can play in the cabin at night, you in?"
"If I'm not too tired," Matthew didn't want to have to stay up to socialise with so many people, at least not every night and with Alfred just here he felt like he could be a little honest. "Then yes."
"Okay, just say what you're gonna do at the time. We'll be quiet if you're gonna sleep." Alfred planned casually, then added as an afterthought, "You won't tell anyone will you?"
"No," Matthew reassured. It wasn't like him to get in the way of anyone's fun, even if he wasn't invited to join in.
But he was invited to join in. He felt compelled to make the most of it. It was an opportunity to get to know his cabin-mates.
"I'll play tonight," he announced.
"Great," Alfred gave him a thumbs up. "We're gonna be gambling, I brought a shitton of snacks."
"Sounds fun," Matthew smiled.
"Course it'll be Mattie!"
While Matthew didn't know what exactly to expect, Alfred's enthusiasm didn't leave him with any doubts.
Matthew also briefly wondered when Alfred started calling him 'Mattie'. Either he's been too tense to notice or it just sounded so natural he overlooked it. He didn't mind the nickname, though he considered if that made them friends already. That seemed a bit fast, though as an extrovert maybe Alfred didn't give it much thought and just let words fall out of his mouth.
Feeling assertive, Matthew decided to test the waters.
"I'm sure it will, Alfie," he said in a teasing tone, trying to push away feelings of discomfort from acting out and saying something so silly. But 'Alfie' didn't know that.
"Dude," Alfred gasped, and Matthew relaxed knowing his taunt wasn't taken the wrong way. "Why would you call me that?"
"You called me Mattie," he shrugged playfully, "so I gotta call you something."
"Most people call me Al," he declared.
"What about Fred?"
"Ew no. I'm not an old man," Alfred feigned disgust, "I'll just start calling you 'Hew'."
Matthew mentally recoiled at the name. "Okay, I won't."
"That's what I thought!" Alfred crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands.
Matthew twisted his fingers together. It seemed that Alfred was this friendly with everyone, which at least reassured him that he wasn't being paid any special attention, and hopefully, anything he said wouldn't come off as weird.
"Well I can't tell Papa that my first friend is called Fred."
"At least Hugh is kinda a normal name," Alfred retorted but didn't dispute the friend comment. "I 'spose you could call me Alfie if you want, but you'll be the one looking stupid. Pfft 'Alfie'"
Despite his sweating hands Matthew was really relieved. It felt odd to view the other boy as a friend so soon, but it was an accomplishment in itself that Alfred was comfortable enough around him to view him as such instead of ignoring him.
Though he supposed he felt comfortable enough around Alfred, considering he had a conversation with him where he didn't feel like he was entirely faking it.
"So if you call your dad 'Papa' does that make you French or something?" Alfred picked at strands of grass and twisted them in his fingers.
"Yeah Papa is French. I guess that makes me part French too?"
"I'm so sorry for you" Alfred said suddenly serious.
"Uh," Matthew wondered if this was some kind of joke. "Why?"
"'Cus yanno, Fre-" he interrupted himself by pretending to throw up.
What? Matthew knew he was staring and meant to say something but he didn't know how to respond.
"I'm joking!" Alfred broke his seriousness and slapped his hand down on Matthew's shoulder. "It's just a joke people make! Especially my dad. He's 'Bri'ish' and hates the French. But people make jokes about 'Bri'ish' too! They have bad 'eeth. And they shank people and stuff."
"I haven't heard any of these jokes," Matthew confessed, feeling a little bit confused. "But I know Papa makes jabs at Brits sometimes but he says that's natural."
Alfred laughed. "So if our dads met each other they'd just be like pointing at each other and going nuts. Actually, I'd love to see that! We could cheer them on and get out the popcorn."
"I bet they would. Papa always says Brits can't cook."
"That's pretty much true in my dad's case. I mean, he can cook, but only with a recipe and even then it's just meh. But at least its not he burns pancakes kinda can't cook."
"Can you cook?"
"With a recipe, yeah. It would take a special kinda special not to be able to follow a recipe."
Matthew shrugged in response.
"Dad also says that French people are sl- so, uh, romantic with everything that moves."
Actually, that sounded kinda right. But Papa just saw the world through rose-coloured glasses and could find beauty in anything and anyone. Matthew couldn't see anything wrong with that.
Wait. He paused. "How were you going to say that?"
Alfred looked a bit sheepish.
"...sleazy?"
"That's definitely a stereotype. Papa is kind and respectful and not some gross old man who plays with people whenever he feels like it."
Alfred put his hands up in surrender and Matthew realised he had gotten a little worked up.
"Woah, I did not mean anything like that. I don't even think Dad means it he just says it just because. Yanno cus he's Bri'ish..." Alfred chuckled and let his arms down. "Sometimes I wonder if he actually knew someone who was French and he just hated that one person."
His voice seemed so contemplative that Matthew wasn't sure if that was even meant for him. But ever the chatterbox, Alfred moved on. Matthew wondered if Alfred back ever hurt, y'know, with carrying the conversation with a socially inept outcast and all...
"But obviously he isn't racist towards all French people! He has a friend and she speaks French and he's never actually had a problem with it - or at least that I've seen - but I guess he still jokes with her about French stuff and she jokes back - actually I don't think she is French..."
He thought about it for a moment.
"No, she's from somewhere else. Maybe there was a French person."
"Yeah, maybe," Matthew felt more confused than anything.
"So, does this mean you can speak French?"
Matthew really hoped this wasn't leading up to being requested to say random things for entertainment.
"Oui."
"That's so cool! You're pretty lucky! I wish I could speak another language! Did your dad teach you French?"
Matthew nodded and didn't hold back his smile. Clearly, he should stop assuming things. Did that make him a cynical person?
"That's cool. My Dad didn't officially teach me anything but I can do a pretty good Bri'ish accent. I use it to mock him." Alfred sniggered at the last part.
"Your poor dad," Matthew joined in with the laughter. No doubt Alfred's father had a hard time managing his son's troublemaking.
"What's he going to do? Shank me?"
Now that he knew the joke Matthew laughed.
"I don't think he would. Maybe just send you to bed without porridge."
Banter seemed to come easy as the conversation flowed. He lost track of time while sitting there with Alfred. Best of all the daunting feeling that had no right to lurk had dissipated, and if Alfred's enthusiasm was anything to go by he was having a good time too.
So Matthew pushed the guilty thoughts whispering he was a burden to the back of his mind. His nerves had pretty much disappeared and he felt like he could take on the rest of the camp without being completely out of his element. Possibly even enjoying it more than he first judged.