look out for me, oh muddy water [atticus]

your mysteries are deep and wide
late july, morning
Stowe, Vermont

He was grudgingly warming up to the idea of enjoying camp. When Josie had shoved his acceptance and scholarship in his face excitedly at the end of term, Killian had been annoyed more than anything else. He had so much to catch up on this summer - algebra, mostly. Arithmancy was helping him hold on to his maths but it wasn't enough. Wizard Camp? In America? It seemed like such a distraction.

The curriculum had been a pleasant surprise. Science was a lot of Physics and Chemistry, really, and the Creative Writing course was a lot of fun. His high fantasy short story was going over like a lead balloon with the magical teens ("why are your elves so tall?" was one of his recurring critiques) but Killian was having a good time. Even in the non-academic activities.

Like now. He has signed up for boating. His folks wouldn't have approved, but it seemed like a useful skill to have. After listening and nodding to the counselor's instructions, Killian picked up a paddle and lined up for a canoe. No picking people you already knew, Carla said - they were trying to get people from different schools to interact.

"Beauregard! Buckley!" The counselor yelled. "Canoe Five." She kept yelling names as Ki made his way to the canoe. A tall boy with insane cheekbones soon joined him.

"Hi, I'm Killian," he said, sticking out his hand for a shake. Americans shook hands, right? Was Beauregard American? "Do you want to get in the boat first?" Killian was eyeing the canoe with suscipion - it didn't seem as sturdy as the boats from the lake in first year. Also, he had never rowed (drove?) a boat before.

@Atticus Beauregard

Atticus had woken up late.

Sloppily, he made a peanut butter sandwich in the empty dining hall that was washed with early morning light, eerie with the lack of life.

His mother, he imagined, was judging him all the way from South Carolina, bread propped in his mouth and pulling his shirt over his torso as he made his way through the trees toward the river. The Summer bristle underfoot was no competition for his practiced gate. Atticus heard his peers before he saw them, and went in that direction, already grinning. The counselors were assigning partners— mixing schools.

Canoe Five. Canoe Five. He wiped the remnants of food from his mouth with the back of his hand as brown eyes scanned the water. There it was. Excitedly, he made his way forward but only noticed his partner when his hand was right in front of him.

"Atticus, hi," He glanced the canoe then back to Killian with a grin. "Sure," Atticus hopped in easily to the back, where the heavier, more experienced was meant to go. As usual, he assumed.  "Here," He offered, steadying the rocking of the vessel against the deck with both hands planted firmly on the wood. "Easy..." His southern accent lit the tiny caps of white-capped miniature waves of the unsettled water.

"Oh, watch your step—" He held up a hand to Killian to help him in. More than anything he was ready to paddle them away from all of the traffic of the campers.

Atticus. "As in Finch?" Killian said before he could stop himself, outing himself immediately as a) English and b) a hopeless book nerd. So much for a good first impression. This kid seemed a little spacey to Ki, though - there was a little bit of peanut butter in the corner of his mouth, and he had nearly walked right into Ki. He was taller, sure, but still. Still, this Atticus (not Finch, just Atticus) seemed like an easy-going fellow. Ki watched him hop into the boat like it was nothing.

Atticus had caught onto his discomfort, and Killian was grateful for the extra steadying of the boat. It wasn't like it was the end of the world if he fell in. Mum had made him learn to swim early on, citing historical trauma. But he didn't like swimming, and he certainly wasn't dressed for it.

He turned around to sit on the middle bench, facing Atticus. "We should just, uh, push off, then, right?" Ki couldn't quite place they other boy's accent - it was bugging him. "On three?" He counted down - "One, two, three!" - and they were off, paddles in hand and open lake ahead of them.

On three they were off and moving through the water. It took them a few moments to find a rhythm but they were getting there. The water was much clearer than that of South Carolina, a bit more settled, but then again they were in a lake and not in a river or estuary feeding into the ocean. "We got it," Atticus dipped his fingers in the water with a grin once they started gliding toward no set destination.

"So, you've read To Kill a Mockingbird?" He referenced the Finch that Killian brought up. "It's actually a family name, though, Atticus" He explained, disappointment clear in his tone. It belonged to his great-great someone or other. Lila had made him read the muggle book all of those years ago and she was just as surprised to learn he wasn't named after the fictional character.

"Its great— the book," He clarified with a slight grin before splashing some water on his face. It was early enough in the morning but he could feel the heat from the Summer sun creeping in.

"Are you from... Hogwarts?" Atticus asked in way that made it obvious he'd gotten this wrong about a dozen times in the last week when trying to place the accents. For him, differentiating a South Carolina to a Louisiana one was easier than Irish and Scottish.