The Order of the Poison Oak by Brent Hartinger

Indian legend?”
    “I think so,” I said.
    “Where did you hear it?”
    “In this novel about the American frontier. It really stuck with me.”
    “It’s beautiful.” Was it my imagination, or was Otto a little choked up? I looked over at him, but I was seeing the scarred side of his face, so I couldn’t tell what his expression was, what he was thinking.
    “I liked your music,” I said. “The other night around the campfire? That was beautiful too.”
    “Oh,” Otto said, and he looked down at the ground. “Thanks.”
    Now I did know what he was thinking, because scarred face or not, Otto Digmore was blushing.

Chapter Eight
    I am not one to blow my own horn, but let’s get one thing straight here and now: as a camp counselor for burn survivors, I rocked.
    No, I didn’t just rock. By telling that story about Rainbow Crow when the kids had been so freaked by that forest fire, I had proven once and for all that I was the mighty God of Camp Counselors, sipping from a golden Camp Counselor Goblet and dwelling on the top of Mount Camp Counselor Olympus!
    Let’s just say I felt pretty damn good about myself. And I was thinking about all this that night after lights out as I made my way back to my cabin after hanging out down at the campfire with the other counselors.
    Almost home, I heard the sound of laughter.
    Web’s laughter.
    I also heard the sound of splashing, and it was coming from the direction of that secluded little cove with the rock, the place where I’d been meeting Min and Gunnar at night. So another counselor—Web—had found our secret cove at last. He hadn’t been down at the campfire with the rest of us, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to be laughing about. Except Min hadn’t been at the campfire either, so I already had a pretty good idea.
    Sure enough, a second later, I heard more laughing—a girl’s laughter.
    Min’s laughter.
    Whatever was happening between the two of them, I suddenly had to see it for myself. I turned and started down the trail toward the secret cove. At the same time—and this is where things start to get a little dubious—I took that trail slowly, being careful not to step on any branches or twigs, basically trying not to make any noise. I wasn’t sneaking up on Web and Min exactly, but let’s just say I didn’t necessarily want to announce my presence to the world.
    As I neared the beach, I turned onto a different trail, one that led up to a little rocky ledge that looked down into the cove from one side. That way, I’d be able to see into the cove, but Web and Min wouldn’t be able to see me.
    Out on the ledge, I worked my way through the undergrowth until I had a clear view of the water below. The first thing I noticed was the big granite rock—that it looked different from this angle. It didn’t look like a wedding cake or the Rock of Gibraltar (whatever that looked like). From where I was, it looked like a sinking ship.
    There were two people in the water below that rock, swimming and talking and laughing. Sure enough, one of them was Web. And the other was Mm. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything clearly, but somehow I just knew that they were skinny-dipping.
    Web hadn’t “found” our secret little cove—Min had shown it to him! The nerve!
    Anyway, I’d seen what I’d come to see, so I’d like to be able to say I turned around and went back to my cabin.
    I’d like to be able to say that, but I can’t, because that’s not what happened.
    No, what happened was that I crouched down into the undergrowth and watched the two of them frolic in the moonlit water. I know this makes me sound like some pervert voyeur (especially after I eavesdropped on Gunnar and Em in the boathouse!). And I am also completely aware that this was a total invasion of their privacy or whatever. But somehow I just couldn’t help myself.
    As I crouched there in the bushes, Web suddenly swam toward the big rock and climbed up onto it. It was almost as if