I took a deep breath of fresh, mountain air and sighed. Home. This place would always and forever feel like home in a way that Lima, OH never had.

Camp Cardigan for Boys in New Hampshire is my refuge. This whole school year had just sucked. We’d been out of school for two weeks now, and the bruises had mostly faded from my back, remnants of all the locker checks. The nasty words would take longer to fade from my mind.

Being here would help though. Camp is my favorite place in the entire world. My mother and grandmother had gone to the sister camp around the lakeshore long ago (aptly named Camp Cardigan for Girls). My uncle and grandfather had gone here. Hell, my grandparents loved to tell the tale of how they’d fallen in love working as counselors at the camps during college. So the summer after I turned eight, the summer after my mother had died, my grandparents started to pay for me to spend seven weeks each year in this patch of wilderness.

They’d convinced my father that it would be good for me. I’m still not sure how he let me go that first summer, but somehow dear old grandma had convinced Dad that I needed time away from being sad. I’d been hesitant myself. I mean, camp. Surrounded by loud, rowdy boys? Surrounded by dirt and bugs? Plus, after we’d lost Mom, I was feeling rather clingy, too. Still, I think Grandma had been right. It had been a relief to be able to escape. To not have to think about the loss all the time. To not watch my dad cry at night and try to figure out how in the world I was supposed to help him.

I walked over to the porch of the dining hall, leaning over to take a look across the lake at the White Mountains behind, letting the stress and tension of the real world start to drain out of me. I’d flown from Ohio into the Manchester airport that afternoon, but it had been a long drive after the assistant director had picked me up. The wonderfulness was worth it though, just reacquainting myself with trees and green and mountains.

My friends from High School would probably be amazed to see me during the summer. During the school year, I spent hours on skin care and hairdos. I picked my outfits out with an extraordinary amount of care. They probably thought I was allergic to nature. And that was one side of me. But this is me, too.

This me gets crazy tan lines on his feet from running around in Chaco sandals instead of knee high Doc Martins. This me wears more sunscreen and bug spray than any other product (though moisturizer and good conditioner are still key). This me has even been known to jump into the lake fully clothed once or twice.

“Kurt!”

I turn at the sound of my name being called out, flinching reflexively before I see who’s calling me. It’s not one of the bullies from my junior year. Not here. Here it’s Sam, with his blond, All-American good looks. Sam’s been in my bunk since we both started here at 8. Somehow we managed to stay together every year, and when he wraps me in a quick, tight hug, it feels so good. So right.

“Please tell me you just got here. Because if you’ve been here long and didn’t come looking for me…” Sam lets the threat trail off with a grin as he steps back.

“We’re all so scared. Just plain terrified of those threats, Sammy-boy.” An Asian boy notes beside him, before I’m pulled in for a second quick hug of greeting.

“Mike. It’s good to see you at least!” I tell him, with a teasing look over towards Sam before I break into laughter at his joking pout. “We just pulled in not five minutes ago. It’s so good to be here. And to see both of you.”

There’s a pause in time as I look back towards the old camp station wagon I’d been picked up from the airport in. “After all, I could use someone to help carry my trunk.”

“You just want us for our muscles. Soon I’ll start feeling like a pack mule.” Sam notes, even as both of them start towards the luggage with me. “Junior counselors, man! I’m so excited for this summer. No more lowly camper days for us. And we start the summer in the leadership bunk. So no middle of the night puke-ers to deal with yet either. Best of both worlds!”

I shook my head and let him continue to ramble on as we collected my stuff. I had my trunk of course, but then there was also a duffle bag with my bedding and toiletries. Thankfully it had wheels, so I could manage that with my backpack as Sam and Mike shared the weight of the trunk between them. “JCs. Finally. What program areas did you two get approved for?” I asked over as I swung my backpack up into place.

“Lacrosse and the climbing wall.” Mike states. Short and to the point is much more Mike’s thing than the rambling on and on Sam can get up to.

“I’ve got Swimming and Basketball.” Sam adds looking over as we head across the grassy quad the cabins are lined up around to a large, two story cabin on the end. Leadership bunk, where the Junior Counselors (us) and the Counselors in Training (who we were last year) live. “We’ve got second floor this year. I’m looking forward to getting a breeze.” Sam adds as we push open the screen door, heading for the stairs. “What areas do you have?”

“I’ve got Archery and Canoe/Kayak. So we’ll be seeing a good chunk of each other in lifeguard training, Sam.” Each JC had to choose two activity areas to specialize in. Areas that we thought we might want to teach when, and if, we finally get to become full counselors next year. Before we even arrived on camp, we had to interview with the directors for approval to become JCs and to get our chosen program areas approved. After all, not everyone could do, say, archery. I was lucky enough to get both my first choices.

“Please tell me there’s a bottom bunk left. Or better yet, a single. I’m not sleeping on top of either of you.” I noted as we pushed through a wooden door painted a dark green and into the big open room all the JCs would share.

“Kinky, Hummel. Maybe one of us wants you on top.” Sam teased with a waggle of his eyebrows. I replied with some crude single-digit sign language as I yanked my bag of bedding over towards a single cot in the corner.

“My lucky day.” I’d claim this one with my trunk at the foot and my sheets on the cot mattress. Then I’d try to one again get used to the fact that teasing here meant a joke. It’d been the same adjustment last summer.

Our final summer as campers, two years ago now, I’d come out to my cabin here. Sam and Mike were the first people I told. Ever. I wasn’t even out to my dad until after I was out at camp. Not that they hadn’t suspected. I don’t think there’s anyone anywhere in my life that really knows me that I could ever successfully hide my sexuality from, even if I wanted to.

The boys here are mostly from New York City, like Mike, and Boston. Then there’s a good chunk, like Sam, from sunny California. All of those places are different worlds from Lima. One of those kinds of places will be my home as soon as I graduate High School.

At school, the teasing isn’t friendly. It’s not the kind where you give back as good as you get because it’s all playful and puppy-like. At school, it’s bullying. I’ve long since lost count of the number of times I’ve been called a fag or a homo. But not one of them have been here. I have to remember that. I have to let that sink in again. I’d always been teased at school, from the start of middle school on, but it got worse after I came out to my friends in Ohio sophomore year. And worse again this last year. But that was over. With a few days of training before the campers came, I’d have almost eight glorious weeks to just be myself here.

The low tolling of a bell brought me out of my reverie. “Dinner!” Sam’s enthusiasm over such a simple thing brought a grin to my face. I tucked the edge of my blanket in neatly to pass any inspection and straightened up.

“Lead on. Do you know what they’re making tonight? God, I hope it’s not meatloaf.” With one last look around at the wooden walls, I followed my friends out across the quad, retracing our steps from earlier. This time though, it was to a cloud of greetings from returning counselors and claps on the shoulder that weren’t meant to push me over.

“Kurt! You made it. Did these two show you where the JCs are this year?” Wes left the side of one of his fellow group leaders to angle over towards us. “I’m in charge of the CITs and JCs again this year, so search me out when you need me, alright?”

I had to bite my lower lip to stifle a laugh as I looked back to see Mike mimicking Wes’s rather officious attitude as Wes walked back away to his friend David’s side.

The laughter I had been stifling came out in a full force assault as soon as Wes was a safe distance away. Sam pulled me back upright with an arm tossed casually over both Mike and my shoulders as he steered us into the dining hall. “Best summer ever starts right now, guys.”