17.

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bit of a change of scenario for our boi dawson in this one. hope you like it 

THANKSGIVING IS RIGHT around the corner. Dawson could tell from the change in the menu of the cafeteria.

Not to mention, everyone looks unexplainably happy all the time. It's probably the holiday spirit, the fact that it'll be Christmas in less than a month. However, Dawson doesn't really understand the appeal of it. It might be because he spent every Christmas eve at home alone, or with his nanny when he was too little to be left inside an empty house by himself.

It's safe to say that the past month had its ups and downs. Luckily any contact with Hamilton was limited to the few classes they had in common.

Another significant change was Hamilton joining Earth and Science II. He was the tenth student to enroll. Of course, Dawson is torn between feeling grateful and utterly annoyed by his presence, especially since, from the very first moment, he's been all smiles and fluttering eyelashes— so to speak— with Mrs. Lakin.

She loves him.

On the first day of class after Dawson's recruitment presentation, Adam walked in, eyes avoiding Dawson's gaze, and hastily sat next to him, without saying a word. After a few minutes of silence, Adam slipped him a note on the desk that said:

You're not the reason why I'm here

And, of course, Dawson couldn't miss the opportunity to reply:

Could have fooled me

Then it begins. And theirs is game of stolen glances, of docile smiles and secrecy; sour words with sweet intentions, albeit denied. Naïve belief that there is nothing binding them together but rivalry; that fraternization is nothing but collateral damage, just a means to an end; that there's no gravity pulling them together, and they orbit one another because they want to, and not because they're meant to.

*

Every year, for Thanksgiving, the top eight students at Wharton High—four girls and four boys— have the chance to go on a trip to Yosemite National Park. A camping trip.

Needless to say, camping is not exactly Dawson's favorite thing. Or second favorite, for that matter.

He almost didn't make the cut but, as it turns out, Thornbury had a say in it. Being one of the organizers and chaperones for the trip had its fair share of benefits, especially when deciding on the inclusion of students like Dawson, who represented a constant source of controversy.

That's why Thornbury told Dawson he was chosen as one of the best students based on grades, but he also told him— being the outspoken man he is— that the rest of the teachers were keen on leaving him home due to "past misconduct".

He made Dawson promise he'd be on his best behavior. Once again, he couldn't say no. Not when his favorite teacher at Wharton High was giving him such a risky confidence vote.

Later that day, he found out that Maisie-Rae, Milo and Abraham didn't make the cut.

The inclusion of both Calliope and Hamilton, on the other hand, came as no surprise.

Mostly because Cal bragged constantly about her stellar grades. She would never shut up about it. She once confessed she only did it so people would know she wasn't just a leggy blonde, to prove she was worth more than the label the world assigned to her. She said prejudice always found a way to precede her; that people who don't want to see will always find a way to look away, and this was just her deliberately obnoxious way to make them listen.

As for Hamilton, one way or another he often managed to snatch the highest grade. Dawson and he would tie for best student in the class just about every other day. Not to mention, teachers adored him, they trusted him as their equal and it wasn't hard to understand why. He always worked twice as hard as anyone else, not because he lacked in intellect or talent, but because he liked to. And it's a known fact that teachers dig that kind of dedication.

On the day of departure, Dawson tiptoed out of the room at 7 am. Calliope was waiting for him next to the bus that the rest of the students were already boarding on. She looked, even at first light, happy and well-rested.

She smiles at him. "Hey, Tally. Ready for the day?" she hands him a cup of black coffee.

"Ask me again in three hours," he drawls.

Her hair, tied in a fishtail braid, is resting on her shoulder and the rest of her clothes are more appropriate for a ski trip in Aspen rather than camping in inland California.

As expected, Dawson sits next to her on the bus. And, as expected, Cal immediately strikes up a conversation about her fur mittens.

But, just as he thinks he couldn't pay less attention to Calliope, Adam Hamilton makes his entrance. His gaze shies away from Dawson's stare, in a similar way to a hand retracted after touching someone and receiving a mild electrical shock. As he walks by their seat, he tries his best to avoid unnecessary contact. He doesn't greet him, he doesn't even graze him with his backpack, or with the sleeve of his wind jacket.

Needless to say, Cal notices the tension and she can't help but inquire.

"I heard about what happened," she whispers, looking furtively around. On their right, Tabitha Harrison is sleeping with her head against the window. "With Hamilton."

Dawson glances at her in bewilderment. What he doesn't know, though, is how his easily his eyes give him away; how evident it is to everyone else that Adam's name never fails but rouse his interest. He's dying to know what she's talking about, now that Hamilton is the main topic of the conversation.

"Milo told me about Adam's talk with the Principal," she clarifies.

"I still don't know why he did that," Dawson murmurs, leaning back against his seat.

"Maybe he wanted to help you," she hypothesizes. "You punched Dennis to defend him."

"I punched Dennis because he's a dickhead," he corrects her in a flat voice.

"Point is, he was pushing Adam around and you helped him out of that situation. You got in trouble for that, remember? Plus, you don't exactly go around punching every dickhead in school."

"They're too many," they say in one voice. Cal lets out a hearty laugh. Dawson's lips twitch into a subtle smile.

"He did what everyone would have done," she reasons in a quick whisper. "It was his way of thanking you for standing up for him."

"He didn't sound very grateful when he told me he didn't need me to fight his battles for him," Dawson drawls.

"Mh," Cal crosses her arms to her chest.

"He hates me," he persists.

"Did he say that?" she gasps in disbelief.

Dawson scoffs. "I lost count."

Adam only told him he hated him a few times, he muttered it under his breath, whispered it, shouted it even! but he said "I hate you" many other times with his body, with his face, with his eyes.

In a way, he's always looked at Dawson like he was afraid of him. And you can't love something you're afraid of.

"What if he didn't mean it?" Cal shrugs. "People say things they don't mean all the time."

Dawson knows all about that. He lies all the time. Mostly stupid stuff no one even notices. He knows he's not a great liar, and anyone would call his bluff right away if it wasn't simply a matter of insignificant white lies.

Some lies matter more than others. At least, that's what his mom told him when he caught her with another man. That's the lesson he learned the day he had to lie to his dad to protect someone he cared about.

That same day, he learned that some lies are only told to protect others. If that's the case, who is Adam protecting?

Somehow, Adam telling him he hated him matters more than any other lie he was told in his life. It matters more than all the tearful "We're doing this because we love you" and even more than all the dispassionate "I love you".

Despite his familiarity with the concept of saying things you don't mean, her words seem to trigger something inside him, call it a solicited revelation. Something he couldn't wrap his logical mind around, something beyond his ability to understand.

"Why would he lie about that?" his head turns to her, eyes welling with hope.

"I don't know, Dawson," she sighs. "Humans are not formulas. They're don't respond to the laws of pure mathematics. The world is chaotic and unpredictable and you simply can't expect to explain every human action based on logic and rational reasoning."

"He said he hated me, scorned me, pushed me, insulted me..." Dawson is tired to the point of exhaustion of having to talk about this all over again.

Cal's thoughts are elsewhere. She's trying to find the right words to say so Dawson will stop feeling so helpless.

"He also helped you, many times, when anyone else would have pushed you under the bus."

"Thanks," Dawson chuckles.

"I'm not saying I would," she feigns indignation.

"Then, what, are you trying to say he didn't mean any of that?" Dawson continues, perplexed by her suggestion.

"I'm trying to say that actions speak louder than words," she whispers. Then, she turns around to sneak a peek at the end of the bus and cranes forward to get a good look at Hamilton.

She finds him already looking back. He tears his gaze from her right away.

"You won't believe what I'm about to say, Tally," she concludes, with a thin-lipped smile. "But I don't think he hates you at all."

*

"For those of you who weren't here last year, welcome and congratulations. For everyone else, I'm glad you could keep up the good work. And I'm proud of you."

Thornbury's greeting is the perfect occasion for Dawson to look around and see who he's going to be sharing this experience with.

– Tabitha Harrison, head of ninety-three percent of students associations at Wharton High, she's also known as the Iron Lady; rumor has it, she pulled Calliope's hair after she beat her at the spelling competition during freshman year. She claims it's all water under the bridge now.

– Vickie Schwarts, petite but with a big ego; has a scary maniacal laugh (Abraham's words); doesn't take any advanced course so she can ace all the basic ones; Cal says that in Economics and Geopolitics II she's (in)famously known as "Unfair Competition".

– Marlene Nuñez, conventionally pretty Latina girl, captain of the Lacrosse team; already claimed by three different Ivy League schools; worryingly talented in everything including being the biggest overachiever in school; took every extracurricular course available in the country just for fun (pottery, cutting and sewing, Sushi rolling, water aerobics, wine sommelier, hot vinyasa yoga...)

– Noah Walsh, annoyingly handsome (courtesy of Maisie-Rae); he decided he wanted to become an investment banker when he was 12 years old and has not changed his mind yet; often boorish with women; owns a Nirvana t-shirt but, when Dawson asked him what his favorite song was, he replied: "Smells like Ten Spirits".

– Frank Moretti, mama's boy; defines himself Italian, doesn't speak the language; football talent; often rambles on about things no one else's interested in.

"...then, as tradition, you will all be randomly assigned to a tentmate," Thornbury continues, shooting Frank a reproving glance.

"Frank slept with Vickie last year," Cal elucidates in response to Dawson's confused face. "Marlene complained about the noise in the morning. Said they kept her awake with all the moaning."

"Shit."

"I know!"

"Is there any girl you'd prefer as your tentmate?" Dawson squints looking at the rest of the girls.

"Well, Marlene's nice," she says, her voice completely lacking enthusiasm. "But I'd rather not get my hopes up. It's not up to us to decide."

"I put down an approximate plan for the next few days that you can consult so you don't miss any activity. Just to give you a quick overview, we're going to do a couple of excursions, one today and one on Friday. Tomorrow, we're going to celebrate Thanksgiving over dinner, then, by popular request, Mrs. Conway and I will leave you to your Thanksgiving campfire."

"Don't leave camp unattended. Halloween is over, there's no need for you to dress up as a bear bait," he continues, glaring at Frank once again. He clasps his hands, "That's it, I think."

Vickie Schwartz's hand shoots up. 

"Yes?" Mrs. Conway gives her a motherly smile.

"Is participation in excursions compulsory?" she squeaks, letting her disinterest be known right away.

"It is," Thornbury intercedes. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Well, you probably don't know this but, on average, 6 people die in national parks every week," she whispers, as a group of campers passes by. "It could be us this time around."

"No one is going to die on this trip, Miss Schwartz," Mrs. Conway sighs in resignation.

Frank is already searching up that statistic on Google, trying to catch some signal by waving the phone in the air above his head. He looks like a complete moron, but Dawson's enjoying the show way too much to stop him.

"Is it because of grizzlies?" Noah Walsh asks, visibly intimidated by the chance of being eaten by a wild animal in the meanders of Yosemite National Park.

"No," Vickie sighs. "Drowning."

"I'm hardly surprised," Marlene hisses at Vickie.

"Are you threatening me?" the girl squeals.

Dawson stares at them, both amazed and entertained by their bickering.

"Everyone, calm down," Thornbury shouts. "You asked me the same question last year and my answer is not different, Vickie."

She mumbles something and finally falls silent. 

Mrs. Conway clears her throat audibly. "We're starting with the Glacier Point hike today. Hope you wore something appropriate."

After a thirty-minute drive and a twenty-minute hike, they reached the top where they enjoyed the scenic and fascinating nature surrounding them. The Half Dome, unceremoniously covered in snow, towered over the landscape, bathing in cotton clouds and sunlight.

Dawson catches sight of Hamilton, sitting on the ground, his legs flailing from the edge. He's facing the Yosemite Falls. He's alone.

"It's quite the view, isn't it?" 

Adam turns around, his face stolid. He doesn't look startled, nor the slightest bit surprised by Dawson's intrusion. He remembers what his voice sounds like. 

"Why are you always by yourself?"

"I like it that way," the boy replies, facing the waterfalls once again. 

This time, Dawson takes the hit without flinching. "Should I leave, then?" 

"No!" Adam splutters, later trying to conceal his flushed cheeks by urgently adjusting the scarf around his neck. "You can do whatever you want."

"What do you want me to do?" Dawson insists, tilting his head to the side.

"Can we just sit here in silence?"

Dawson doesn't answer him. Neither with words nor with a nod of the head. 

He hugs his knees to his chest and stares at the sunset next to him, furtively glancing at Adam from time to time to find the red sun dipping into his blue eyes, a reflection of the sight before them, almost like a movie projected on the silver screen. He doesn't speak, not once. 

The moment is spectacular enough as it is.

*

The whole group is back to the main camp in time for dinner and tents allocation. They sit at the wooden tables. Dawson is sharing it with Cal, Marlene, and Noah. The food is gross, but Dawson doesn't dare say a word about it since Noah has been relentlessly complaining for the past twenty minutes.

"Jeez, Noah," Marlene huffs. "Can you just shut up and eat your damn food?"

He tries to talk back, but Calliope's murderous gaze prevents him from making the situation worse. "I'll get more soup," she says, taking ahold of her empty bowl. She stands up and leaves.

"So, Dawson," Noah whispers, hunching over the table to make his words be heard. "Are you and Jennings... you know, fucking?"

Marlene looks at him in a mix of disgust and resignation. Dawson almost chokes on the soup.

"How much of a freak is she in bed?" Noah insists in spite of that.

"I'll punch you if you answer that," Marlene warns Dawson, pointing a menacing finger at him.

"We're friends," he mutters.

Noah Walsh's eyes sparkle at the sight of an unforeseen opportunity opening up. Dawson knows that's his green light. His thoughts go to Milo right away, and how his chances with her might crumble to pieces any second. He can only hope Calliope has enough self-respect to turn the asshole down if he were to make a move on her.

"What did I miss?" Cal asks, hopping back in her seat next to Dawson.

"Nothing much," Dawson shrugs nonchalantly. "Noah was just telling us about how much of a freak his last girlfriend was in bed."

"I did not–" the guy protests, under Calliope's unforgiving glare. 

Lucky for him, Dawson finds an unexpected ally in Marlene Nuñez. 

He might just get punched in the face after this but at least it was for a good cause. Lie to protect.

Later that night, after finally being assigned to his tent, he can finally enjoy some peace and quiet. He undresses, slips into a pair of grey sweatpants he unironically wears as nightclothes, then he lies in bed, right over the blankets, hands clasped behind his head.

He closes his eyes, but the sound of hesitant footsteps forces him to remain vigilant. 

Adam Hamilton is standing three feet away from him, looking lost and a little worried. "What are you doing here?" he gasps.

 Dawson props himself upright. "Looks like we're tentmates, Hamilton."


*

A/N: 

heh

not a lot of dialogue in this one, i know. mostly a transition chapter to introduce what's going to happen next. 

thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <3

love,

ellie

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