Chapter Text
Billy hated everything to do with school.
And Billy especially hated everything to do with Headmaster Himbrie. He was already waiting for that old fool to finally retire.
At the age of 12, Billy tried smoking a cigarette for the first time in the school toilets, and ended up having to listen to a lecture in the headmaster’s office.
At 14, Billy tried alcohol in the school playground late one evening with some older pupils who left him alone with a pile of booze when the school security guard spotted them, and once again the 12-year-old boy had to listen to a telling-off from his mum and the headmaster.
And now, at 15, he beat up Steve Ort for calling his mother a derogatory word – or, to be more precise, a whore. For the first time, he went to see the school psychologist and realised just how little the Department for Education cares about poor schoolchildren. That idiot gave him a couple of pointless tests, a drawing and some coloured pencils, as if he were in Year 1.
-
Billy was lying on his bed in his room, stretched out in front of the telly, leafing through a comic, when he heard a knock at the door.
‘Billy?’ It was Billy’s mum’s voice. ‘Can I come in?’ She peered through the small gap in the door.
‘Sure, Mum.’ Billy grinned and set the comic down on the bedside table. He pulled his knees up to his chest as his mum came into the room and sat down beside him.
“Billy, Headmaster Himbri called…” Shit. What had he done now? It was the end of the school year—what could he have done? “So, obviously, this summer you’ll be out late and causing trouble around Woodsboro.”
“Mum…”
“No, Billy, I’m speaking now. ’ Billy had never seen her looking so serious; she frowned but then smiled again. ‘He advised me to send you away somewhere for the summer. Your dad and I have discussed it all, found a suitable option, and decided to send you to summer camp for a month.’ Nancy took Billy’s knee in her hand and stroked it.
“So you’ve decided to send me off somewhere without telling me? What the hell, Mum?!” Billy brushed her hand off his knee and stood up from the sofa. “What am I going to do there, Mum?! A whole bloody MONTH!”
“Billy! ’ Nancy exclaimed loudly. ‘For all the trouble you’ve caused, you’d already be in a juvenile detention centre; this is the least you can do for your father and me!’ Nancy stood up and shot Billy a stern look as she headed for the door. ‘Get ready; you’re leaving in a week. ”
---
Billy Loomis stood by the bus stop with a whole suitcase full of things; he hadn’t expected to have so much luggage himself. There were other kids there too, like Sidney Presscott. A modest, quiet teenage girl, and next to her her energetic, cheeky friend—and, in Billy’s view, a bit of a bitch—Tatum Riley. Billy never spoke to his classmates; he preferred the cool lads older than him, so he knew only a few bits of gossip about them.
Standing not far from them was Randy Mix; he knew him from the video rental shop he often visited for new films. To Billy, he was a loser and a wimp.
Still, the bus arrived; he sniffled and reluctantly said goodbye to his mum for a whole month, and got on the bus.
He hated travelling; it made him feel sick, gave him hot flushes, and he sweated profusely, which made him stink and feel uncomfortable.
After a seven-hour journey, when they reached the forest, he just wanted to shoot himself. It was a shame he only had an army knife, which would most likely be taken away; he felt disheartened when he thought about it.
When all the children got off the bus, he looked at the huge wooden arch bearing the camp’s name, ‘Night Star’—how silly and banal; they could have come up with something more creative, but never mind. Billy hadn’t come here to think up a new name for some camp.
‘Hello, hello, hello!’ he heard a shrill, loud yet pleasant female voice. “I’m the managing director of this summer camp; my name is Gail Wathers, but you can just call me Gail. If you need to ring your families urgently, you can come to me. You’ll now be divided into groups and introduced to your counsellors.” Billy rolled his eyes at the huge crowd of children.
When it was his turn, he found himself in the fifth squad, alongside his peers and people no more than a year younger than him. A pretty girl approached their squad and led them to their barracks. It all drove Billy mad; it felt like an eternity, and he still had a month to go, so all he could do was sigh heavily and snort in exasperation.
The name of this lovely girl who led them to the block turned out to be Christie Beckett; she was quite pretty, with long, blonde hair, a generous bust and long legs.
‘Right then, children. This is your home for the whole month. You can call me Mum or Dad. Every day we’ll have different games and go on trips, but before that, this evening we’ll have a candlelit gathering by the campfire. For now, you can have a look around your rooms; I’ll pop in to see you all this evening!!! ’ Christie smiled, waved to them, and walked off into the distance.
---
‘Hey, Billy.’ Tatum walked over to Billy as he sat on a bench opposite a small frog pond; he turned sharply and saw the girl looking serious. ‘Billy, we need to talk.’
“I’m all ears, Tatum.” Billy glanced at her, and she quickly sat down beside him.
“You see, Billy, Sidney’s had a crush on you for ages, and as far as I can tell, you haven’t noticed.”
In fact, Billy had long since noticed Sidney’s frequent glances his way during lessons; she often tried to strike up a conversation with him, and she’d even asked him to the cinema once, and he’d gone. After that, he hadn’t spoken to her for a week and had been ignoring her.
“So what?” Billy frowned and tapped his fingernails against the wood.
“Are you serious…? Just tell me, DO YOU FEEL ANYTHING FOR HER AT ALL?” Tatum crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
“Maybe!” Billy snapped. He didn’t want to say it, but the thought of a demure girl trying to please him for a whole month was turning him on—and maybe they’d even have quiet sex in the woods?
Tatum immediately beamed with happiness for her friend and patted him on the shoulder; she jumped up from the bench and waved goodbye.
Billy was already looking forward to seeing Sydney running after him, trying to get his attention, and how he would make her chase after him. He’d like someone who’d do whatever he said.
---
Billy was sitting on the balcony, gazing into the distance at the bonfire. He didn’t like the idea of playing ‘Spot the Candle’—it was a really boring game. And above all, he didn’t want to know anything about people he was seeing for the first and last time; he was glad that Christie hadn’t found him. So there he was, sitting on the balcony, on the cold concrete, lighting a cigarette. He was inhaling the smoke when he heard the door creak; he quickly flicked the cigarette down.
‘Hey??’ A tall lad walked onto the balcony and looked down where Billy was sitting in the darkness. ‘What the hell are you doing sitting here?’
‘And who are you to tell me what to do?’ Billy frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’m actually your supervisor, Mr…” The lad stumbled over his words and sat down beside him; now Billy could see him much better. The lad had short hair, deep, bloody blue eyes, long shorts and hairy legs… The last bit seemed disgusting to Billy, but it wasn’t for him to judge.
“William Loomis, but you can just call me Billy.” Billy snorted and turned away from him.
“Right, Billy! And I’m Stuart Macher, you can just call me Stu.” Stu glanced over Billy’s shoulder and leaned slightly against his chin to get a better look at the girl lying near Billy’s feet.
“Mr Billy, are those your cigarettes?” Blimey, he’s a real pain. “You know, for that I should really go and see Gale right now, ring your mum, and...”
“Shut up.” Billy grabbed the cigarettes and threw them at Stu. “How can you even be my supervisor when Christy Beckett is the supervisor?”
“Thanks...” Stu took out a cigarette, rolled it between his lips and leaned his head against the wall. “I’m her right-hand man, or maybe her left leg, or perhaps her ear, eye, brain, stomach, tits?” Stu looked at Billy and started waving his hands in the air. “Give me a lighter.”
Billy was surprised, but calmly slipped the lighter from his palm into Stu’s, and Stu immediately lit the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled the smoke.
“Happy?” Billy grinned and looked at the bonfire, where people were still gathered.
“No.” Stu took another cigarette from the packet and held it up to Billy’s chin. “Open your mouth, Billy.” Billy reluctantly parted his lips and looked at Stu’s hand, with the cigarette between his fingers.
Stu took his chin in his thumb and slipped the cigarette between his teeth. Billy bit down on it and leaned into the lighter in Stu’s fingers. Stu lit the cigarette between Billy’s lips, and Billy tilted his head back against the cold brick wall.
‘How old are you, anyway? You don’t want to be the reason you get lung cancer in your early years.’ Stu chuckled quietly and looked at Billy.
‘I’m 15. How about you?’ Billy guessed that Stu was older than him, but he looked quite young, and even attractive.
“I’m 17. Not much of a difference, is there, handsome?” Stu took the cigarette out of his mouth and stubbed it out against the wall. He flicked the butt somewhere into the distance off the balcony.
“So what are you doing here?” Billy followed Stu’s example and flicked his own butt away too. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his palms on his feet.
“Well, all my mates have left our hometown, and I’ve got no one to spend the summer with in town, so I decided to look after little kids like you.” Stu grinned widely and ruffled Billy’s hair.
Billy flinched immediately and brushed Stu’s hand away from his hair. He’d never liked anyone playing with his hair—only his mum; he liked her attention and her affection.
‘Oh, what a prude!’ Stu frowned theatrically and took Billy by the shoulder. ‘And what are you doing here, Loomis? ”
“For bad behaviour.” Billy decided not to go into details about his cheeky behaviour; besides, he didn’t think Stu cared much.
“So you’re a bad boy, Billy?” ’ Stu turned to him and laughed. That laugh made Billy feel both a warm flutter in his chest and a slight discomfort at the sound coming from Stu’s mouth, which was a bit too loud.
‘Shut up...’ Billy covered Stu’s face with his hand and pushed him away.
“Right, Billy! We’ll have plenty of time to chat later, but I’ve got to go.” Stu grinned again, twirled the long-forgotten packet of cigarettes between his fingers, and stood up. “Well, I’m taking this with me, sorry dude.” Stu waved and left Billy’s room.
Now Billy is sitting on the balcony, taking his last few puffs before the bonfire in the distance dies down.
Perhaps he has just found himself a friend for the month, or maybe something more.