**I went to overnight theatre camp once long ago. That's my inspiration for this story. It's gonna include all three ships, even if some chapters might single one out. The characters are all gonna be at least 13 and at most 17. We watched A Goofy Movie at camp, so that explains the picture :) No warnings. I'll revise later. Enjoy!**

Seventeen hours. Seventeen long hours. That's how long it took for Roshan to reach the summer camp that he'd be staying at for the next two weeks. He'd counted every minute of the trek. The advertisement had caught his eye on Facebook, and as soon as he showed it to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Ahmadi obliged. Of course, they'd do anything to support their darling son. And now here they were, Roshan and his mom and his dad, the dirt road crackling against the tires as they drove under an archway that announced Pierce Camp Birchmont to its visitors.

Here they found a red-haired man who greeted them with a smile. "Hello there!" he said jovially as Mr. Ahmadi rolled down the window. "I'm Miles, I'm the artistic director here." He looked past Mr. Ahmadi into the back seat. "Hey, there, welcome!" he grinned, able to detect the boy's nerves. "You must be Roshan?"

Roshan nodded and grinned. "It's nice to meet you," he said, forcing away the fear.

"Likewise, kiddo," said Miles. "What cabin are you in?"

He recalled the email they'd sent with a spreadsheet of all the tribes, cabins, and who would be in which cabin. "Cranmore, I think," he replied.

(FUN FACT: This was an actual cabin. Cranmore was - I kid you not - known as The Gay Cabin, year after year. I befriended a person from that cabin who was responsible for hanging a gigantic rainbow flag on the exterior of the cabin after wearing it as a cape for the first few days. The flag is still there to this day.)

"Oh, Cranmore's a great cabin to be in," Miles smiled and extended an arm toward the rest of the camp. "You're gonna follow this path right here, and then find Marty, who'll direct you the rest of the way."

And so they did. They followed a tree-lined path that opened into an expansive field. The blades of grass sparkled in the sunlight. A man, younger than Miles but much taller, approached their car with a perfect smile. "Hey, I'm Marty," he said, before directing them to park in the field. Marty and another staff member helped Roshan carry his luggage into Cranmore.

After several tight hugs and goodbyes, he watched his parents' car ride off into the distance and leave the camp. He took a shaky breath and turned away.

As Roshan walked towards the cabin, he noticed a smiling counselor waiting for him in the doorway. This one had insanely curly hair and tinted Elton John-esque sunglasses. "Welcome to Cranmore!" he announced with a salute. "You must be Roshan?"

"That's me," Roshan greeted, shaking the counselor's extended hand.

"I'm Connell," he replied. "My sister Marina's the CIT for Washington, so be sure to say hi when you get the chance."

The cabin had screened windows that let in fresh air, wood-plank walls and floors, and bunk beds that lined the walls. The atmosphere smelled of fresh-cut grass because of the open windows. A cluster of boys Roshan's age were gathered together, talking and laughing. They probably knew each other from past years.

Roshan picked a top bunk in his immediate vicinity, one that hadn't been claimed yet, against the front wall. The bottom bunk hadn't been claimed yet either, but...hey, top bunks were cool. He climbed up and immediately reached for his phone before remembering that he had been told to leave his phone at home, seventeen hours away in Great Britain.

He watched the group of boys. It made him feel lonely. He wondered if he'd be able to be like that by the end of his time there, able to have conversations packed with inside jokes that made the entire group erupt into laughter.

"Welcome to Cranmore!" he heard Connell say once more. In response, he heard stuttered apologies for being late, and Connell telling him that it was okay and to breathe. With anticipation, Roshan wondered if this was going to be someone that Roshan could relate to, someone who didn't know anyone else. He watched as the new camper walked through the door.

A hesitant teen, not even a year older than Roshan, walked in. He had a thin frame, his white hair falling into his scared blue eyes.

Maybe it was how Roshan sympathized with this boy's nervousness, or maybe it was the way his eyes sparkled despite how fearful they looked. But Roshan noticed how his own fear had begun to ebb away.

The new kid looked around, before finally turning to Roshan. "H-hi," he said, gesturing to the bottom bunk. "This one is open, right?"

"All yours," Roshan said, barely noticing the words escape his mouth. He was too entranced. There was something about this boy.

He ducked his head so he could set his suitcase on the bottom bunk, then looked back up at Roshan. "I guess since we're gonna be bunkmates, I should introduce myself," he said. "I'm Tremaine."

Roshan smiled a little. "Roshan," he said. "Pleasure to meet you."

Tremaine smiled briefly. "This is only my first year here," he explained hesitantly. "Mom didn't want to deal with me for another summer, and the camp she used to send me to shut down."

Huh. Roshan felt a pang of sympathy for this new person. Maybe there was more to Tremaine than meets the eye, he thought, immediately wanting to know more about him.

"It's my first year here, too," he responded. "So...we can be friends. You're not alone."

Roshan could've sworn Tremaine blushed subtly before smiling. "Yeah," Tremaine said, forcing his eyes away from Roshan to focus on his hands. "I've never had a friend before. So I guess this camp isn't the only new and exciting experience I'm having."

Roshan smiled. Maybe this camp wouldn't be so lonely after all.