I pressed my sweaty cheek to the back of the hot, sticky seat in front of me and shoved my bangs out of my eyes. "Are we there yet?"
The camp bus blundered on, bouncing over a bump in the road. The chattering of boys hummed around me as my buddy Dan, who sat next to me on the plastic seat, punched my shoulder lightly. "You've been asking that every ten minutes for the past two hours, Nick," he said over his music.
I flicked through the screens on my phone. "But it's soo hot," I rasped, clutching my throat dramatically. "Seems like the ride to Bantam was shorter last year." I paused on the screen with my advice blog and grinned. "Hey, look! Strawberry Shortcake has a problem."
"Cool, and I'm Hello Kitty," said Dan, pausing his chanting along to Kelly Clarkson. "I still don't understand why you do that stupid advice thing. Is your advice even legit?"
I laughed. "Nah, but people thank me for it anyway." I sat up, wiping my sweating forehead with the back of my hand, and tilted the screen towards him. "Look, the person asking me for advice is pennamed StrawberryShortstop. Get it? Like the redhead with the big hat."
I touched the screen lightly and my advice blog lit up, the words focusing. I bent over my phone, skimming the lines of type.
TaylorMadness Advice Blog
Dear TaylorMadness,
My cousin forced me to come to an all-boys camp with him this summer. Problem is that besides being extremely anti-social and introverted, I'm incognito due to a disability. It's going to be really awkward, and there isn't going to be any fooling an entire camp full of testosterone-driven teens. Someone's sure to figure out that I'm not who I say I am, and I'm scared. What do I do?
Thanks and love, StrawberryShortstop
PS: Your profile picture is cute :)
I cracked a grin at her postscript. She was referring to the picture I had posted at the bottom of the blog (along with my profile description, claiming that I was "wise and experienced," - a total lie). She didn't have a profile picture, so when I clicked on her panname to respond, I started off with:
Dear Strawberry,
Selfies rule! C'mon, post a picture ;)
I paused, re-reading her message. Her cousin forced her to come to an all-boys' camp with him? Was that even legal? She needed to stand up for herself. Guys can't just drag their girl cousins off to camp without their consent.
You have a mean cousin. Why'd you let him talk you into this? What you should have done was slapped his face and said, "No thank you, I'm going to stay right here in this closet all summer so that no one discovers I have (insert disability)."
But maybe you tried that and it didn't work, so ...
I bit my lip, trying to think of a professional way to phrase "Believe in yourself" and "It's OK to be different." We learned those in kindergarten - she didn't need that repeated by some blogger guy trying to win points as a future psycologist.
Don't be scared of the kids at camp just because you're different than they are. Think of it as unique - you're a special snowflake :D Keep your cool and instead of pretending that you're one of them, pretend that they're all exactly like you. Don't try to fool them, fool yourself. If you're introverted, BE introverted. Who knows? Maybe one of them will be incognito too!
My counselor told me to relate to people's problems to make them feel better, so I finished off with:
I'm actually going to my all-boys summer camp as well right now. It's called Boys' Bantam and it's all-summer-long, which is awesome. It's my third year and I'm going with my buddy Dan, so I'm not that nervous. Although under everything I'm a little insecure around strangers - long, traumatic story - so you're not alone. Wouldn't it be funny if we were going to the same camp?
Chill. You'll do great.
Cheers, Taylor

I showed Dan. "See? She's practically the same thing as Strawberry Shortcake." I used to have a really weird obsession with Strawberry Shortcake, because I liked how all her friends' names were desserts, but that was a long time ago. I swear. I was really little.
He glanced at the screen. "She thinks you're hot."
I was hot. Sweltering, actually. The heat radiating through the bus windows stifled me, and sweat trickled down the back of my neck, my t-shirt clinging to my shoulders. I pushed my overgrown bangs out of my eyes again, trying to get my blond hair out of my face, but no luck. "At least someone's right on today."
"Almost there, guys," called the bus driver in his husky voice, sounding exhausted.
A rousing cheer rose up from the seats. The boys next to Dan and I high-fived as I shifted in my seat, knocking my stabbing knees on the seat back. "Thank goodness," I said, struggling to yank my backpack out from under the seat.
Dan nodded, pulling his earbuds out. "'Bout time."
The bus slowed down, tires screeching as it turned into the parking lot. Several guys stood up, craning their necks to see over all the heads, before the bus driver yelled, "Everyone sit down until we come to a complete stop!" I couldn't really blame him for being grumpy with us. The bus was full of kids, and most of them were on their way to camp because their parents wanted to get rid of them. Story of my life.
"Three, two, one, BANTAM!" Dan and I roared as the bus doors finally swung open. A stampede to get out of the boiling bus followed immediately as I swung my backpack up onto my shoulder. I jammed my way past the older guy in front of me, who was trying to knock me over, and pushed my way through the tide of campers. I jumped out of the bus into the parking lot, which I could've sworn was at least a hundred degrees. There was no shade where we were standing - well, there rarely is in the middle of a parking lot, you know?
The buses lined up in the parking lot, along with the throngs of campers crowding me, made it difficult to get my bearings. I craned my neck, looking for Dan or at least the camp registration building, beads of perspiration trickling down my cheeks. I pressed through the crowd, following the general direction that most people seemed to be heading. The rising heat from the asphalt baked through my shoes -
"Nick!"
Dan elbowed a much smaller boy out of the way and bumped his shoulder against mine. "C'mon, let's get to the front of the line."
"'Scuze us," I called to the little boy, who was scowling at Dan as he dragged me off towards registration: a large, plain building with double doors that were swamped with campers. A huge line of boys waited to get inside to sign in at the front desk and get their cabin numbers, so Dan and I shoved our way in between two groups and started to yell at the older kids in front of us to hurry up. The seventeen-year-olds moved like glaciers.
"Quit taking so long!" I yelled.
"God gave you two feet. Use them!" shouted Dan, shrugging his backpack onto his other arm.
"This is taking longer than I thought," I grumbled after maybe twenty seconds, in which we moved only a couple steps.
"I know," said Dan, and shouted to the teens in front of us, "For Pete's sakes, how long does it take for you to get out of our freakin' way?"
"Geez, this is so annoying," I said, heaving a loud, dramatic sigh.
About ten hot, sweaty minutes later, Dan and I wormed our way into the registration building. The air conditioning offered much-needed relief from the heat, but we still had to wait for the large group ahead of us to finish. Eventually, the counselor at the desk said, "Next," in a really bored voice. Dan and I scrambled around the older kids, who were now heading away in a pack, and approached the desk.
"Name?" asked the counselor, an irritated guy with a crew cut.
"Daniel Khory," Dan said, leaning his elbows on the desk.
The counselor ripped a piece of paper off one of his sheets and handed it to Dan. "Cabin Seventeen," he said, then turned to me. "And you ... ?"
"Nick," I said off-handedly, then added at his annoyed expression, "Nick Taylor."
He ran his finger down a list of names, then tore off a piece of paper for me. "Cabin Thirteen," he said, handing it to me. Dan, still waiting by the desk, whistled.
"Wait, can't I be in Cabin Seventeen too?" I asked desperately. Cabin Thirteen was infamous for the weird things that happened there, like last year, when a homeless man snuck in and hid under some guy's bed for nearly a week. Or the year before, when all the air conditioning in the cabin shut down halfway through the summer and they couldn't get it up and running again. Or the year before that -
"Next," said the counselor, ignoring my plea.
The next group came up to the desk in a clump and swarmed the guy, so I knew I wasn't going to be changing cabins any time soon. With a sigh I resigned myself to the unlucky cabin, hoping that even though Dan wasn't in it, I would be rooming with other boys I knew from past summers.
"Tough luck," Dan said as we walked out of the registration building's back exit and into the blaring sun outside. I squinted my eyes against the burning light as my t-shirt instantly stuck to my skin, hot and heavy from the humidity in the air. Thick sun rays pierced my flushed cheeks as Dan and I set off down the path to the cabins.
"Thirteen!" I complained. "The most unlucky number ever! What do you think will happen in there this year?" Horrible visions of playing dress-up in frilly clothes painted themselves in my mind's eye.
Dan shrugged. "Probably an alien will invade and take over one of your bodies," he suggested.
I groaned, knowing it was more than likely.
"Or ... " He glanced over his shoulder before continuing, "you never know, maybe there'll be a HaertWaker staying with you."
I winced. The Curse of the HaertWaker, a horrible torture spell, was supposed to be a myth, but the general public remained uneasy about the possibility that it could be real. Rumors had spread like wildfire around our high school last year when Matt Tristan, captain of the basketball team, had came into school one day insisting he could prove its existence. The situation had been hushed up by the administration, but dozens of stories flew around the school about what had happened with Matt. Some people said he exploded the counselor's office, and others claimed that he'd been expelled because of a ritual he'd preformed on Halloween.
To make a long story short, no one had seen Matt since, and the idea of a HaertWaker in my cabin didn't exactly appeal.
Dan grinned. "Sucks to be you, man," he said, by way of comfort. We trudged through the sticky air across the plaza and down the paths that led to the cabins. First came Cabin One, then Cabin Two, so of course we got to mine before Dan's.
"At least I'll have a shorter walk to the mess hall," I joked, thinking of the amazing food the cook always made.
"Yeah, way to find the only plus," Dan said. "Well, check it out and let me know if they still have that skeleton in the attic, OK?"
I grinned and waved him off towards his own cabin. Placing my fingertips on the door to my own, I hesitated, half-afraid that the scene would open onto some horrible disaster. Then I bit my lip and laughed at myself. All the cabins were identical. This would be just like the cabin I'd been in last year.
Except Dan won't be in it, the tiny, insecure part of my brain whispered.
I shoved the thought down. I would make lots of new friends. I loved making new friends.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The big recreational room, which I was a little surprised to find completely empty, greeted me with silence. The couches and beanbag chairs looked undisturbed, and the small portable TV sat blank on the bookshelf. Four doors lined the walls: one led to the bunk room where the campers slept, another to the personal room where the cabin chaperone lived, the next to the tiny shower area, and the last one to the broom closet. The uncanny stillness unnerved me.
Just as I was crossing the room to the bunk room, where I could dump my sleeping bag and backpack, the door banged open again and two other boys barged in. The dark-skinned one looked about my age, and the brown-haired one a few years younger. "What a dump," said the first boy loudly.
I turned around, a little taken aback. Sure, the cabins were pretty ordinary, but it wasn't like they were going to be five-star hotels. "Huh. You better get used to it, man, 'cause this is all you got for the rest of the summer," I said, hitching my backpack up on my shoulder.
He glared at me with dark, angry eyes. "Whatever."
The smaller boy hung back as the first guy stomped over to the door that led to the broom closet. "Where does this door lead?" he demanded, his hand already on the doorknob.
A newbie! I realized with glee. "That's the Jacuzzi and the smoking bar," I said.
A spark of interest lit up his face for the first time. "Really?" he asked, yanking the door open. His overeager pull caused the mop to fall out and smack him on the forehead. "Ow!" he yelled, whipping around to face me. His face flushed red with anger.
I laughed at his sudden temper. "C'mon, what did you expect?"
"Nice try! I didn't fall for that one!" he yelled, stomping to the door that led to the single shower. He yanked that door open too, and finding only tile floor and a mini shower head, he slammed it shut and turned to me. "Where do we put our stuff?" he demanded.
I stood in front of the door to the bunk room. "What's the magic word?" I asked, privately wondering if I could take this boy in a fight if he decided to get physical. He was about my height but huskier, and he was already clutching his hands into fists. A thin scar etched the side of his face, potential evidence of some sort of past violence. I stood my ground, grinning cockily in hopes of easing the tension, and I was relieved when he lowered his hands reluctantly and looked away.
"Cut it out, Jeff," the smaller boy said mildly, walking over. "Sorry," he said to me, "Jeff's got an awful temper."
"Bad mood, much?" I said, eying seething Jeff.
The younger boy laughed, shaking out his spiky hair. "Are you kidding? This is his height of social." He stuck out his hand and added, "I'm Skylar Sord, and that's Jeff Preston. We've been neighbors for years."
I shook his hand, feeling slightly awkward at his formal gesture. "I'm Nick Taylor. This your first year?"
"Yeah, I'm twelve."
So he was older than I'd originally thought.
"I'm fifteen, and this is my fourth year," I replied. "But beware - Cabin Thirteen's rumored unlucky."
He grinned, showing a gap between his front teeth. "Is this the bedroom?" he asked, gesturing behind me.
I'd forgotten that we were supposed to be just dropping off our bags. "What? Oh, yeah."
I finally turned and opened the door, showing them the rows of bunk beds. Bags already sat on a few beds, one of them with t-shirts and tennis shoes spilling out. "The number on your paper matches the number of one of the bunks," I explained to Skylar, while Jeff hulked in the doorway, glowering at us from under his dark eyebrows. "Just find your bunk and put your stuff on top, and then you can go down to the mess hall for lunch."
"OK!" chirped Skylar, throwing me a sharp salute. He giggled as he skipped off down the row, and I couldn't help thinking that his laugh was unusually high for a boy, not to mention his bouncy footsteps. He probably got picked on all the time, he was such a little kid.
As Skylar checked the numbers on the wooden bunks, I glanced back at Jeff. "Hope I'm not bunking with sulky boy," I said, not too hot on the idea of sharing a bunk with a cranky jerk. Something told me Jeff wasn't a morning person.
He ignored me, folding his arms grumpily, so I looked down at my own paper. Bunk 4C, read the counselor's scraggly handwriting.
Craning my sunburned neck, I found row C and the fourth bed in it, the top bunk. I frowned at the ladder, unsure if I'd enjoy climbing up and down to go to bed every night. Then again, if a homeless man came in and lived in here again, he'd be closer to Mr. Bottom Bunk. I shrugged, tossing my backpack up into the bed. 
Before I left the bunk room, I paused, watching Skylar and Jeff. If I was going to survive in Cabin Thirteen all summer, I knew I'd better make some friends fast. Everyone said Cabin Thirteen was full of weirdos, but I was harboring secret hopes of getting to meet some cool new people.
As I walked back out into the sunshine of Boys' Bantam, I wondered what surprises awaited me during a summer in Cabin Thirteen. Who knew? With a little luck, it could be the best summer of my life.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and please, please, please critique me harshly. 
You can also find this story on Fictionpress, where more chapters are uploaded.
Last but not least, this is not slash/boyxboy. It's gender-bender :)
Cheers,
Capri