Tffanguy

Camp Valgrave Lake is said to be a truly magical place. But I never thought that it was the place, but rather, the people, who make it a wonderful site. Valgrave is one of the largest lakes in the region and hosts the ultimate summer camp between June and August. Campers from all over Canada, and the world, spend an unforgettable summer there. 

I attended Valgrave when I was a kid. Multiple times, actually. And, so when the opportunity to apply for camp counselor came my way, I didn’t hesitate. I wanted those kids to have just as much fun as I did when I spent the longest days of my awkward teen years there. 

Unfortunately for me, I was only three semesters into college, so I wasn’t the most attractive pick for the recruiters, which is why I didn’t get to be a counselor. However, I did manage to snag a spot as camp counselor assistant. Not the most glamorous, but it was the first step towards becoming a counselor. 

The recruiter I spoke with pointed out a couple of reasons why I was passed up for the role I originally applied for. I’m barely average height, and I’m skinny as hell. She said they look for stronger and more physically capable camp counselors. They are responsible for teenagers, after all. Looking like one was not going to earn me any respect. This also means I would struggle to get any injured camper to safety. Hell, some of the other kids might have an easier time carrying them to a med tent. I also didn’t have first aid training. But her most biting piece of feedback was that I “lack presence, charisma, or any sort of redeemable social or interpersonal skill.” She said; “Mike, I’ll say it bluntly, darlin’. You’re a boring, spiritless husk of a man with no drive or motivation.” 

So, I got out of the interview with a bruised ego and an instruction not to call her back. Fortunately. She wasn’t the only recruiter, and the next guy I talked to had way kinder words than she did. Well, they were less biting, but not much better than hers. 

In truth, she was kind of right. I didn’t have any plans after high school, I just wanted to play videogames in my room and stay in bed till the afternoon. I had abandoned most of my interests one by one as I grew up, only spending my free time jerking off or watching old 9-season long tv shows that you can only find on Netflix now. 

So, maybe spending 10 weeks at Camp Valgrave Lake was exactly what I needed to become the man I was meant to be, and stop being the teen everyone else kept overlooking. Or maybe it was my sign to change my name, dye my hair and start over somewhere else. Who knows. 

Camp Valgrave Lake always starts the second week of June, and extends all the way into the second week of August. Though, counselors, aids, cooks, and most other staff had to arrive two weeks earlier to clean and prep the camp. And holy fuck did this camp need a clean. For a fifth of the year it is the place to be for all teens in the area, but for the rest of the year it’s completely abandoned. So, all twenty-five cabins need cleaning, as well as all the common areas, and the outdoor equipment. The boats need gas, all the cables need to be checked, water needs to run, and all equipment, as well as all staff, needs to be ready for when camp starts. 

I had been toiling away for eight days now. It was the Monday of the week before camp started and I was exhausted. I was assigned to clean half the cabins from floor to ceiling, I had only a counselor and another aid for help; Max and Phil. As it turned out, we made a great team, and I quickly became fond of them. Well, I couldn’t tell if I had grown to like them or if I liked the familiarity. The work was repetitive, and dull, but there was never a boring moment. Snakes, bugs, hidden magazines, and dried stains were only some of the things we had to eradicate from the cabins. Inexplicably, we had managed to get twenty-two done by Saturday, and Sunday morning, Phil and I were assigned to clean the boats.

Phil scraped the last of the gunk off the oar of the third boat. “I don’t think we’re gonna get this done by Wednesday,” he confessed Sunday after breakfast. The sun was beating down on us and we were both getting tired and hungry again from the endless scrubbing and scraping. Phil moved onto the next boat. So did I. After a few more hours, I told Phillip to go have dinner and to come back later in the day. At first he refused. He said that he’d help me clean, he’d skip lunch with me if I wanted to, but I didn’t want him to. I told him I’d meet him at the same spot later in the day. And thus, Phil left.

I kept scrubbing and scraping, and the day droned on. I felt an unsettling breeze blow in from the direction opposite to camp. I looked up to be greeted by the sun, and its reflection, distorted on the water. And for the first time in maybe seven years, I allowed myself to fully gaze at Valgrave Lake. It was beautiful. The waves danced and spun calmly against the sandy shore, kissing it briefly before returning to whence they came.

The lake called to me. It was a beautiful siren song. Intoxicating and dangerous and devastating in its beauty at the same time. I knew I shouldn’t go in; I couldn’t. But I did. I heard it. I wanted to go in. To get to swim in the cold water and float. I couldn’t explain it. It was an all-consuming need to go in. So I did.

I took off my work polo, my converse, and my socks, and I stepped in. The water was cool, like the night air against my fairly thin frame. I felt the bottom of the lake with the soles of my feet, and I had this peculiar sensation on my feet. The water made them feel heavier. Guess that thing about weighing more when wet is true. I advanced further, the water reaching my waist, covering up my shorts. I had to go a little further. Guess the water was moving a lot today. It felt almost as if my legs were getting longer and longer the further I went in. I felt the same with my torso as I kept going. As if it stretched out the more I went in. 

I don’t know exactly when, but after the water reached my chest, I lost all sight of myself. I found myself swimming. I swam until I was too tired and then I kept going. I dove in the water and resurfaced for air over and over again. The water was refreshing against my sunburnt face. I kept swimming until I reached the pier on the other side of the lake, deciding it was a good time to get out. I grabbed onto the ladder with strong, calloused hands, and pulled myself up with experienced ease.

And that’s when I realised something was wrong, because I did not come out of the lake the same man that I went in.

Mason’s roommate Ian was insufferable. He got high on the weekends, slept through the day, and had his football buddies over during the night. He rarely washed a single cup, much less his messy, grown out hair. He left his disgusting dirty laundry all over the room, walked around half naked, and often stole Mason’s clean clothes. He ate like a pig and he would masturbate relentlessly over any surface he could.

Suffice it to say, Mason had had enough. He needed to do something, anything to get him to behave like a functioning adult. He tried talking with him, pleading for Ian to have some sense of civility. He got the RA involved, and then the dorm administrators, but the building was packed, and he couldn’t change rooms until at least a year in the future. So, Mason got desperate. He combed through Reddit for some way to make Ian’s life hell, or at least to get him out of the room, and one Friday late October, he found something that just might work.

It was a link to some sketchy website, the kind buried under piles of mindless AI advertisements. The website, in ugly, highlighter yellow Comic Sans claimed that it could let the user exchange two persons’ bodies for a set amount of time.

This was it. If Mason could have Ian’s body, even for an hour, he could pretend to be him, and voluntarily leave the dorms for good. There was only one minor issue; both of them had to be touching the laptop at the moment of the swap. No big deal, though. He’d just wait until Ian was high off his mind, and the idiot wouldn’t even notice.

He did exactly that. He waited til Saturday, when he knew Ian would be stoned. Ian was lounging on the couch, like usual. His bare chest exposed as he put down the blunt he was holding. He raised is arm to scratch the back of his head, his armpit stinking up the room.

Mason rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore the foul smell. He brought the laptop over to the couch. "Hey, Ian?" He spoke hesitantly, "I gotta show you something on my laptop." Ian lazily looked up with glassy eyes. Mason awkwardly set the laptop over his chest without any protest from Ian, and then hit enter.

For a brief moment in time, Mason's vision went dark. He blinked a couple of times, trying to ground himself. He had to go down to the office, but he couldn't leave the form shirtless. "Why not?" He asked himself. He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard. Focus. He had to focus. But he couldn't do it for the life of him. He felt giddy. The couch felt nice. So nice. He ran a hand through the fabric of the couch. It was soft. Really, really soft. And his hand was huge now too. He put one foot on the tiled floor and tried to get up, only managing to sit up on the couch. He heard a weird sound. He looked down, and his laptop was on the floor. Why was his laptop on the floor?

He picked it up and struggled to open it, but it wouldn't turn on. Oh, well. He let it fall on the floor again and sat back on the couch. Man, this felt nice. He stretched his arms and opened his legs. He took a big whiff of the air around him. It smelled masculine, and a little musty. What was he so worried about just a second ago?