Page 15 of Sass in the Grass

The toilet brush was a ghastly thing, but he picked it up and scrubbed every toilet. None seemed like they’d been properly cleaned in ages. The bleach was strong, but it worked to get years-long stains from the porcelain and when he was done, he set his hands on his tiny hips and smiled. “Well, let him inspect. Maybe we can dirty the place up a little after.”

After waiting for over an hour, however, and Dixon not showing, made Jovian pout. The cleaning supplies were put away and he went to shower again, this time uncaring of the others in the showers.

He complained back at the cabin as he lay on the bunk, exhausted. “Mike, I thought you said that coach guy would inspect.”

“He will. Why?”

“I waited for over an hour!”

“Oh, well, he doesn’t come right off to inspect. He’s got a lot going on. He’s the survival trainer, one of the hike masters and other stuff.”

Intrigued, Jovian asked, “Hike master? Like…he takes people out in the woods?”

Mike’s smile was mocking, but Jovian didn’t care. He only cared about the words. “Groups. He takes groups out to hike, and it’s part of survival training.”

“Still…”

“Have you even met the man?”

“No, but I’m sure once he meets me, he’ll…want what I want.”

“Wish I had your confidence. Anyway, since all the campers are in, the itineraries are up for each cabin. We have group therapy after lunch, which it’s time for.”

“I’m much too tired to eat. I think I’ll nap, and if I just so happen to sleep through therapy, make my excuses for me. Please?”

“Whatever, Jovian. You do you.”

“I’m gonna doDixon,” he mumbled to himself and fell almost immediately to sleep.

When he woke, he saw the cabin full of people, and he scanned for Kathy and Mike. They were sitting on Mike’s bunk, looking through a phone.

Jovian stumbled toward them, sitting across on Kathy’s bunk. “Did I miss it?”

“No, unfortunately, you didn’t. We just got back from lunch.”

A long groan escaped him. “Really?”

“It’s not like you’re psychoanalyzed or anything, Jovian,” Kathy told him. “We just have different things we like to get off our chests in a safe place. A bunch of people here are afraid to even go to therapists in their towns. People talk, even those that shouldn’t.”

“I have nothing to get off my chest. I have a great life. Why must I go to a sob session?”

“Damn,” Mike said, laughing. “You’re either trying to be edgy or you’re just…not self-aware. If you don’t go, it’s fine, but if you miss more than two, True and Bernie will want to know why, and then you’re called into talk one on two.”

That would be much more uncomfortable, confronted by the heads of the camp. “Fine. God, this place. Cleaning toilets, therapy? S’mores? I mean…really?”

“Embrace it, Jovian, and maybe you’ll have a better time,” Kathy suggested.

Jovian barely heard her. “I need to do your eyeshadow. It’s making me crazy.”

There was no time, however. One of the others called that it was time for group, so they all got up, Jovian reluctantly, and filed out of the door.

Group was in the Mess Hall. There weren’t chairs in a circle, at least, but everyone sat facing the stage on the two closest long tables and benches. Jovian sat in the back row, sandwiched between Kathy and Mike, hoping their taller selves would keep him nicely hidden. The fear of being called on came from school, when the teacher would call on him and he’d been looking through his phone, not paying attention.

There was no service for that in the Mess Hall, so he just listened to the others.

True stood on the stage at first, welcoming everyone, but soon pulled out a small branch, decorated crudely with feathers and beads.

“To those new, we pass the talking stick, and each introduces ourselves for the first group. No one is going to be put on the spot to talk about their lives or themselves at all, but it’s a safe space. No one will judge you,” he said, and his eyes sought and found Jovian.

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