being with Ben was a twinâs version of being alone. For shy, insecure boys, it was easier to retreat into the safety of twinness rather than to risk new conversations, new relationships.
The boat rumbled as we pulled away from the dock. As I looked around the room, I hardened my stare. If I wasnât going to make friends, then at least I could look intimidating so no one would fuck with me. A few times I caught someoneâs eye, but they quickly dropped their gaze.
Then, I caught an eye that didnât drop. It belonged to a large kid with a faded, oversized sweatshirt with âJorgeâ on the front. We stared at each other for two seconds until I dropped my eyes. My face grew hot. I sensed him moving toward me. Then he was upon me.
âWhat the fuck are you looking at?â he said.
His three friends formed a half circle around Ben and me. Ben stood slightly behind me. They looked older. Twoof them had chains running from their back pockets to their belts.
Iâd never met Jorge, but I knew him. Guys like him were always in my face. Iâd made my first enemy in less than fifteen minutes.
âI wasnât looking at anything,â I said. I squirmed under his gaze. He moved up on me real tight, his chest almost touching my burning forehead.
âDo something, man. Do something, pussy. What now?â
I just stood there, my heart pounding, paralyzed. I hated him, but I hated myself more. Coward. Just then, a counselor started toward us. Jorge saw him and stepped back.
âWatch your back,â he said, as he moved away, his friends in tow.
Our cabin was little more than a hut: thatched roof, no walls, and six bunk beds. By the time Ben and I got there, all the lower bunks were taken. I threw my sack on one of the remaining top bunks.
âHey, what the fuck?â I heard, as a hand jammed my shin, nearly knocking me down.
My muddy shoe was planted on the sleeping bag of the camper below me. âSorry,â I muttered. âBut donât push me.â
âDonât put your foot on my sleeping bag, then.â
I didnât say anything. I heard the other kids laugh.
Our counselor, Okie, gathered everyone outside and explained the schedule: breakfast at seven, then assigned cabin activity, lunch at noon, then free time till dinner, and then a campfire after.
That night we marched single file up the dirt road toward the campfire, until the line halted halfway up. Ben and I stood apart, already on the outs with our cabin mates. I looked down the hill and saw Jorge and his friends about fifty people behind us. I was relieved we wouldnât be sitting close to him.
As if he felt my gaze, he whirled and looked right at me. Fuck .
The line started forward. As I crested the hill I saw the blazing, crackling fire in the middle of a semicircle of stadium-Âstyle benches. The counselors were jamming the campers in like sardines. I watched the rows fill, coiling like a snake. I realized with horror that Jorge might end up behind me.
Ben and I were pushed into the far side of row four. I started frantically counting how many students there were per row, but lost count and had to start over. Our row filled, and the line snaked back, one level up. Jorge entered the row, and I prayed and prayed that some distance would separate us. What are the chances? I protested feebly as Jorge plopped down almost directly behind Ben. Jorge and his friends started as soon as they sat down.
âBitch,â said Jorge.
âPussy fat twins,â one of his friends said.
âWhat the fuck you looking at?â said another.
I wanted to disappear. I looked over to see if I could engage Okieâs attention, but he was deep in conversation with a female counselor. I looked around desperately for someone to help. There was no one. Ben was getting it worseâhe was closerâand I was glad for that.
âFat twins. Fucking fat twins,â Jorge said.
Ben and I just stared