There's nothing better than being cramped in a bus filled with twenty sweaty kids singing an off-key rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody for three hours. Oh wait - there is. Quite literally anything else. 

Remus sinks himself further into self-isolation, if that was possible, trying to drown out the noise. Perhaps banging his head against the window of the bus would help distract from the bleeding in his ears. Outside, bucolic hills go for miles baring nothing but wildflowers; the buildings of stone and glass he called home are now towering trees of oak and pine. 

A sweltering heat blares against his forehead from the midmorning sun shining through the glass, smudged with fingerprints. Aside from the excessive back sweat, sunburns, and increased global warming, summer has always been Remus's favorite season for the most part. Of course, most summers he could avoid his peers entirely; most summers he could sleep in the comfort of his own bed; most summers he could enjoy the company of his one and only friend. But this isn't most summers. 

This is the summer of '76.

By the end of the first hour, the nauseating feeling residing in the heart of Remus' stomach had finally subsided. By the end of the second hour, the long windy pavement leading into the countryside had turned into dirt and gravel, straying further and further from civilization . And by the end of the third hour, the wheels of the bus screech to a jarring halt. 

Remus isn't sure if he's more grateful that the bus has stopped or the singing. 

Sneakers scuffle along the dirty floor as ambient chatter fills the bus. Kids file out of the doors eagerly awaiting the camp outside. Remus slips into the line, nudging and budging his way to freedom along with the rest. His foot is not even a step off the bus when an overwhelming scent of musk and grass fills his nostrils. A large sign carved into a plank of wood hangs over an arched entrance reading: CAMP LAKOTA.

Remus swallows the lump caught in his throat; two months at Camp Lakota all because of a stupid brochure in the mail.

The dirt road is beaten from footsteps of campers past, leading Remus to the center of the camp. A large bonfire sits in the middle of the area, built high with broken tree limbs. Different trails lead off into the woods all labeled with tacky wooden signs nailed to the trees. To his right, a sweeping lake curves around the camp; its undisturbed surface sparkles under the sunlight, extending well beyond sight. Remus tears his eyes away to shake his thoughts. He preferred land. Still, stable grass and dirt. 

Adults stationed along the paths don juniper green t-shirts, directing campers around with overzealous smiles plastered on their tanned faces. Two log cabins have an influx of campers roaming in and out, prompting Remus to follow along. He wanders into the Mess Hall, greeted with a godsend of cold air. Inside, kids swarm the far wall like bees to honey. 

Remus crosses the floor with his hands tucked into his faded jeans, falling in line with the others. His eyes scan the room, observing kids his age hugging each other after a year's separation. The joyous sound of laughter rings in his ear; everyone looks so happy to be reunited. Remus bites on his lower lip softly, averting his gaze to the floor. Standing alone in a room full of strangers, it feels as if he's watching everyone through a window. It makes his heart swell with longing for his best friend. 

Growing up, Remus didn't have many friends. Technically, he didn't have any friends. But then came along Luna. For as long as Remus can recall, Luna has always been there for him - watching out for him in the good days and being the light during the bad nights. 

Eventually, Remus finds himself at the front of the line. He squeezes his way to the long sheet of paper tacked onto the bulletin board. Pressing a finger to the print, he traces down the list, scanning over the names as quickly as he can before another kid can shove him out of the way.

Lance. Lee. Lowe. L...upin. 

"Cabin 505," Remus repeats to himself. 

The heat is just as unbearable the second time around as Remus steps outside. Puffy white clouds glide across the sky, though they offer no shade from the scorching sun. Remus wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, brushing the tips of his sandy blonde hair out of his face. Upon entering the second cabin, he's greeted with disarray. For a camp that's been around for over thirty years, according to the ever so helpful brochure, their organization is clearly lacking.

The floor is a sea of luggage in assortments of all sizes and colors. A hoarder's delight.

Remus scours the floor for his duffle bag which proves to be harder than he anticipated. His once-white beaten converse weave through the maze of luggage when the straps of a backpack are pulled out from underneath him. His bum hits the floor hard, sending a sharp pain up his back.

On any given day, Remus would pretend he hadn't just wiped out and harbor the sheer embarrassment. However, today he'd been shoved onto a putrid bus for three hours only to be dumped in the middle of a forest for the next two months. To say he is a little agitated would be an understatement. 

Remus whips around, his cheeks blooming a rather violent shade of pink, when he sees the culprit standing over him. "What the hell!" he growls.

The other boy's eyes widen with shock at the outburst, offering a hand down to Remus. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were standing on the bag," he says frantically. 

Remus wipes the clamminess from his palms before accepting the help up. Grey eyes, like a silent storm, stare back at him; his windswept hair falls just to his chin, framing his face with lush locks of chestnut brown in a Mick Jagger-esc way. Remus grasps the boy's hand and is swiftly yanked off the ground as if he were a flimsy plastic bag. 

"It's fine," Remus mumbles, as he wipes the dust from his jeans.

"Can I at least help you find your bag?" the boy offers. 

Remus gestures to the vast assortment of bags that surround them and says, "Be my guest." He scratches the back of his head nervously. "It's a blue duffle bag." 

The boy's lips curve into a slight smile, just barely crinkling the corner of his eyes. He hikes the straps of his backpack higher onto his shoulders before leaning over in search. Bags are tossed haphazardly around the room and lazily kicked aside, making it twice as hard to find anything. Remus continues to maneuver his way around but can't ignore the boy's presence behind him. 

"I'm Sirius, by the way."

Remus half turns with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm glad," he says skeptically. "I was hoping you weren't lying about helping me."

The boy tips his head back with a causal laugh. "No, that's my name. Sirius." 

Remus feels the heat surging across his face and breaks their eye contact. "I'm sorry, you must get that all the time," he mumbles towards the ground. 

"Nice to meet you, Sorry." 

Relief, and a tinge of annoyance, washes over Remus. "My name's Remus," he clarifies. 

Sirius doesn't respond as he's already busied himself by continuing his search. They fall into a comfortable silence, side by side, scouring for the blue duffle bag. Remus takes the moment to get a better glimpse of Sirius while the boy is faced away. Sirius is a tad shorter than himself, most likely standing around 5'10, which is still rather tall for a fifteen year old. His arms flex with muscles when he heaves a navy bag up for Remus to inspect; a brief shake of the head is all it takes for Sirius to chuck the bag carelessly over his shoulder.

"Are either of you named -" a new boy stands in front of them, squinting his hazel eyes behind rounded glasses at the tag dangling from a powder blue bag reads aloud, "Re-moose?"

"Uh, that's me," Remus answers with a hoarse voice. 

The raven haired boy extends his arm out, handing Remus his bag. "Interesting name," he says. 

Sirius snickers from the left, and Remus shoots a glare in his direction. Together, they walk out of the building, bags in hand. A gentle breeze flitters through the air, bringing a cool sensation amidst the humidity. Remus casts a sideways glance at Sirius, unsure whether or not he should say something. The decision is made for him when Sirius speaks. 

"So, what cabin are you in?" he asks. 

"505," Remus answers. 

Sirius raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You're kidding!" 

"I thought I was Sorry." The joke slips through Remus' mouth without thought; he presses his lips into a thin line, instantly regretting the words.

Sirius smirks with a playful eye roll. "Ha, ha," he laughs dryly. "I'm glad you have a sense of humor seeing as we're going to be cabin mates for the summer." Before Remus can even comprehend the words, Sirius takes off towards one of the paths on the left. He turns around, walking backwards with open arms calling out, "Well, aren't you coming?"

Remus adjusts the strap of his bag across his body, promptly hurrying down the steps to catch up with Sirius. A weathered sign displays the numbers 500-505 in chipped white paint, pointing to the right. Both boys walk side by side, their steps falling in line with one another, as they trek down the narrow path. 

Remus finds himself staring up at the expansive sky, almost in awe; the sky never looked so blue before. Luna would love to see this, he thinks. Birds squawk overhead as they soar freely, dipping above and below the clouds. The sounds of bustling campers and counselors fade into the background after a while. Rustling leaves and the steady crunch of the earth beneath guide Remus in a comfortable pace. Greenery envelopes him completely - flowers, trees, and moss; they grow wildly along the path, humming to life with the bumbling bees that travel from flower to flower and the butterflies that flutter in the breeze. 

As the boys round a curve leading uphill, the lake shimmers ahead; the massive body of water sits still with tranquility. A knot forms in Remus' stomach, forcing him to look away. He's almost forgotten that Sirius is walking beside him when they come up to a clearing. Five log cabins form a semi-circle around a campfire, and in the center, a large pole waves a bright red flag.

Cabin 505 stands on the farthest right. Remus exchanges an uneasy look with Sirius when the door creaks open on rusty hinges. The floorboards groan under their weight. Sirius flips the light switch, illuminating the room with its yellow tinted bulb. Two bunk beds are parallel on either side of the room, though Remus isn't quite convinced of their sturdiness. Two desks, two dressers, and a sink are the only other furnishings.

"It's...rustic," Sirius offers with a timid smile. 

The door creaks open, startling both boys. Immediately, they whirl around. Standing in the doorway is a boy their age, though notably shorter and somewhat plump in frame; his flushed cheeks have yet to rid of the baby fat, giving him a very youthful appearance. He stares with watery blue eyes, wide with panic. 

The three boys stare at each other, eyes darting back and forth in a stand-off. Sirius is the first to speak. 

"Hey," he says with an upbeat note. "I'm Sirius. That's Remus." 

Remus lifts his hand with a small wave. 

The boy's shoulders slacken ever so slightly. He sidles into the room, pulling along his rolling carry-on. "I'm Peter," he tells them. His fawn colored hair falls straight like a mop on top of his head, swaying with every step he takes into the center of the cabin. "Have you already chosen a bed?"

"Uh, no," Remus answers.

"Take your pick," Sirius says. 

Peter choses the bottom bunk on the left, while Sirius chucks his backpack onto the top bunk on the opposite side. Remus weighs his options, ultimately choosing the bunk below Sirius. They unpack their belongings in an orderly fashion - well, at least Remus and Peter do. Sirius opts to sit on his bed, tuning his compact radio. 

Remus didn't pack much before leaving for camp; in fact, his mum did most of it for him. He pulls out a stack of blank postcards bound by a rubber band; some he plans to save for his mum, but most were for Luna. The crackling static from Sirius' radio is halted when Marvin Gaye's voice breaks through, singing the bridge to Ain't No Mountain High Enough. 

"Ah-ha!" Sirius exclaims triumphantly. 

"You found a signal out here?" Peter questions curiously. 

"Call it luck." Sirius hops down from the top bunk with a defiant thud. Dust and dirt cloud his worn shoes. "Wonder who the other guy is." 

Remus glances at the empty bunk above Peter. 

As if the gods above heard Sirius speak, the door swings open recklessly, banging against the wall so hard that the hinges have lost their squeak. Remus' eyes widen when he sees the boy walking through the door with brazen confidence. Their gaze locks, and their fourth cabin mate grins ear to ear with a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. 

"Re-moose!" he exclaims as way of greeting. 

Bloody hell.