The most fearless among the Jabs, the most insouciant toward any form of authority, no matter how kindly intentioned, had the nerve to audibly refer to him by that name to his face. Right quick, they learned. Spending their allotted free period before lights-out cleaning the communal toilets of their fellow teenage internet trolls tended to fix this moniker problem. He didn’t want them to think of him as no fun, like a kind of drill sergeant instead of a friendly older neighbor who sneaks you the occasional beer or invites you to play with his latest high-tech gadgets. For so long, he had stopped caring, and it had cost him—his marriage, his job, his self-worth. That was why he was here: to empty his heart into lost causes and, in so doing, reclaim his ability to care. But he was seemingly incapable of any expression other than a scowl. Once, he had caught a gamer—or was it one of the politicos? Laird couldn’t tell—red-handed in the counselors’ cabin, the sole location on campus with a computer that had internet access from a cable plugged directly into a wall, arguing that feminism gives you cancer in the comments section of a New York Times article about gentrification, and all he was able to muster in response was, “Go to bed, Ethan.” If he were honestly trying to turn a new leaf, he would have taken aside snide Ethan Fuller and gotten him to open up, asked him where the anger came from, told him to imagine himself in the shoes of a female, a single mom struggling to feed her family and sitting down to unwind with unparalleled journalism only to read his nasty rant. Instead, he returned to the Cozy Oyster and watched Netflix.

Rex Hasselbach was different. He was deferential in person, greeting Laird with a “Hello, Mr. Hunt,” answering him with “No, sir” or “Yes, sir.” Though Rex was friendless at camp, Laird didn’t worry about him. The kid was quiet and awkward, but he was introspective and thoughtful, not dangerous, as evinced by the animal shelter excursion. Whatever bullying Rex had done was confined to the web. Plus, he was curious, which scored massive points with Laird. When Laird lugged his Newton’s Navel™ Deluxe Reflector Telescope to the top of the nearest hill for astronomy night, Rex monopolized the lens so long that he fought with some of the other campers who also wanted a turn. “See the Cat’s Paw Nebula?” Laird had asked. “Wow, sweet,” Rex replied. “There’s the Pleiades,” Laird pointed out. “Far out!” Rex exclaimed. “Indeed, they are,” Laird said with a chuckle. He explained the universe was huge, huger than we could imagine, and it was getting more huge every second. It used to be hot, super-duper hot, and the celestial bodies were close together. Eventually, everything would be so far apart the night sky would appear uniformly dark. Laird had the impression that what was broken in Rex could be easily fixed by a father figure clapping a hand on his back and telling him he was A-okay.