Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Just a placeholder until I get the first chapter out! Not sure if this will gain any traction but definitely hoping it will -- I'm really invested in character relationships, less so in the plot, so it's a good thing it's already mostly written for me. But I will work really hard on this since I love love love Nick and Ziggy and think they deserved so much better! Let me know if anyone is actually interested in this and I'll try to kick my writing into gear a little faster; I've already got most of the first chapter typed out. Might be adding some new warnings/tags as I go.

Chapter Text

Ziggy Berman hadn’t thought that summer could become any more unbearable. She was now designated to stay at Camp Nightwing –- the dreaded two-week-long hellfire that was only enjoyable for stuck-up Sunnyvalers –- for an extra seven days.

“Do you not see how this is even a little bit ridiculous?!” Ziggy threw her arms out at her sides, beyond exasperated. Her sister stood with her back to her, filling out a form in the mess hall that was soon to be brimming with overexcited campers. “Like, the tiniest bit! I could be home this week, maybe even – I don’t know, maybe even get a job! Just because you’re a counselor this year doesn’t mean I have to stick around, too!”

“Can you just…!” Cindy’s shoulders tensed as she held back a fiery remark. She tucked a strand of soft brunette hair behind her ear, taking a deep, calming breath. “You can not be home alone yet, Ziggy. You’re only 15, and who knows if mom will come back anytime soon.”

Most campers only stayed for two weeks –- the last two. After all, the color war on the very last night was what everyone looked forward to. But some loaded Sunnyvalers, or counselor’s siblings, chose to stay all three. Ziggy had never been one to want that, even if she HAD the money. She hated camp as much as the next friendless Shadyside loser. But now, it appeared she had little choice in the matter.

Ziggy scoffed, tossing her head to the side and crossing her arms. “15 isn’t a baby, Cindy. I can take care of myself. Probably better than you can.”

“Well…” The drawn-out word came from the entrance to the spacious wooden building, and the two spun around, caught off guard. Tommy was striding in, a broom clutched in his calloused hand and a grin on his sun-tanned face. “Good thing neither of you will ever need to take care of yourselves. Daddy Tommy’s here to save the day.”

Ziggy made a face and dodged his attempt to ruffle her wild red waves as he walked past, but she was almost relieved at the interruption. He always seemed to calm her sister down. And break the tension.

“Whatever,” she muttered, shaking her head and moving for the door. “But you know how it is for me here, Cindy.” She couldn’t admit the other kids thought she was weird. She still clung to her dignity. “Hope this is worth your 6 bucks an hour.”

“It is!”

Ziggy ignored the remark, annoyed that her sister had gotten the last word. She always had to, didn’t she? Every time.

She was jolted to a stop by a broad chest seemingly materializing in front of her, and she looked up, disgruntled.

Kurt glared down at her with the mistrustful eyes of a biased Sunnyvaler. “Ziggy. Think you can stay out of trouble this year? No more witchy shit? Maybe find yourself a little Shittysider friend?”

Ziggy worked her jaw in response to his crude terminology. “Hmm. Maybe the same one you’ve been fucking since last year.”

The blond straightened up, his eyes hardening, and raised a threatening finger to her face. “Listen, little shit. If you tell anyone about that –”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get Cindy kicked out,” she finished for him, rolling her eyes. “Unfortunately for you, Kurt, I don’t really care this year.” She darted around him, turning back to flip him off before disappearing into her cabin.

Last year, she’d had the misfortune of stumbling across him and a self-proclaimed “Shittysider” on top of each other in the nurse’s office. She usually went in there during lunch to eat with Nurse Mary, who seemed to be the only person who cared to listen to her. She was aware that she wasn’t there on Wednesdays, but apparently so were Joan and Kurt. And so what was meant to be a solitary mealtime had turned into the juiciest blackmail she’d ever gotten her hands on.

That day, however, she’d realized that being a Shadysider meant that Kurt already had copious amounts of blackmail on her. Or at least, he could. All it would take was one little lie to the wrong person and Cindy would be out of a job.

And then they would both be out of the house.

Ziggy exhaled as she finished setting up her bed, not eager to meet her new bunkmates. Or her counselor. At least it wasn’t Cindy, she knew that much. But it could be Kurt. Even having Alice would be a nightmare, knowing her nighttime activities. Her sister's ex-bestie had become a total junkie sometime between their fallout and becoming a counselor. Her best shot was Tommy, really. She didn’t mind him half as much as she pretended to.

“I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this early.” Her head shot up, and she stumbled to her feet quickly, dropping the t-shirt she’d been idly folding.

In the doorway to her cabin stood the dark-haired boy she knew as Nick Goode. Well, everybody knew him, really. They’d never spoken, but she was convinced she knew more about him than he knew himself. Crushing teenage girls love to talk, and they often didn’t bother to check if anyone was (admittedly inadvertently) listening in.

“You must have the wrong cabin,” Ziggy said slowly, glancing behind her one more time to confirm that the bunk had her name carved into it, still there from her first day 4 years before. “This is the girl’s. Cabin 5.”

Nick grinned, flashing his straight, white teeth and charming dimples. “You’re Ziggy. Cindy’s little sister. I’ve heard her talking about you.” He walked further in, so they weren’t talking all the way across the room anymore.

“And you’re in the wrong cabin,” Ziggy repeated, narrowing her eyes at the boy suspiciously as he strode closer. Why the hell was he still talking like this wasn’t weird? Did he think she was joking?

“Oh, yeah, I don’t sleep here. I sleep there.” He pointed above their heads to the counselor’s bunk. There were stairs along the wall that led to a smaller second floor, complete with a railing to overlook the sleeping campers. “It’s my junior summer. Not quite young enough to be slumming it with you kids anymore.”

Ziggy wrinkled her nose at his speech. She felt unnerved. Why was this Sunnyvaler talking to her? Was malice hidden somewhere underneath his teasing words? Why did this feel like the least threatening interaction she’d had at camp since she was eleven?

He sighed, taking her silence as discomfort. “I know it’s probably weird to have a guy for a leader this year. But they were short on girls, so…” He spread his hands, and Ziggy finally decided to reply.

“What does Cindy say about me?” She vaguely wanted the conversation to end, seeing as she didn’t know this boy at all, but curiosity won her over. He smiled hesitantly, clearly surprised by her sudden interest. She remained standing where she was, her hands twisting the ring on her thumb. Left, right. Left, right.

His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he looked away. “She-”

“Oh my God, you're our counselor?!”

Ziggy was dismayed as she watched Sheila trot into the room, her dark hair pulled up at the front by little colored butterfly clips.

Not again. Ziggy had requested she be put in a different cabin.

Some years, numbers were uneven and Sunnyvalers spilled over into Shadyside cabins. It was the worst. Especially when she was with her sidekicks, Becky and Amy. She'd had hope that maybe at least the first week of camp would be free of her -- but of course not. Sheila's parents likely couldn't stand her, either. Ziggy grabbed her sketchpad and forced the window by her bed open, climbing out like she had so many times last year.

“You – Ziggy!” Cindy exclaimed, emerging from the mess hall to find her younger sister dropping out of Cabin 5’s window.

“Stuff it!” Ziggy shouted, pacing toward the treeline.

Her sister wouldn’t follow her – not into the woods. Focused Cindy was the furthest thing from superstitious, but that didn’t mean she liked going into the forest alone. She didn’t know how relaxing it could be. Not if you found the perfect place, like Ziggy did.

A few minutes later, she settled down into the mossy nook beside the stream. She closed her eyes briefly, leaning her head back against an oak tree and listening to the birds sing from where they perched on the branches above. She loved bringing her sketchbook out here and trying to etch little worlds onto the empty paper. Sometimes, if she wasn’t feeling very artsy, she’d write little poems instead, pretend she was going to be the next Sylvia Plath. She’d studied her, once, for a project in English freshman year. Her poems had become her main inspiration and basically the only thing keeping her afloat anymore. The writing was nuanced, more so than even that of Poe or even Robert Frost. They explored true emotional turmoil, the kind that seemed to affect Ziggy more and more as the years went on.

“Sorry to bother you.”

Ziggy nearly jumped out of her skin for the third time that day. Her sketchbook fell out of her hands, slipping across the moss toward the stream, and she lunged for it, but the girl beside her dropped to her knees and grabbed it before she could.

“Give it back!” Expecting one of Sheila’s lackeys, Ziggy snatched it out of the younger girl’s hands, clutching it to her chest and staggering upright. Her chest heaved with exertion and fear – that sketchbook meant more to her than anyone knew.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –- I’m not –-” In front of her stood a girl that couldn’t have been older than 12. Her dark, springy hair fell loosely around her thin shoulders, covered by a pilly cardigan that marked her plainly as Shadyside. Ziggy relaxed slightly, but her expression remained mistrustful.

“What are you doing out here? This is my spot.” Maybe a bit much to be yelling at a little girl, but it was true. That had been her place since her first year at camp, when all of her dreams had been stamped out by Sheila.

“I just… Nora started chasing me, and I kind of got lost out here.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and for the first time Ziggy noticed the tears welling in the kid’s dark eyes. “I don’t want her to pull my hair anymore. She says it’s ugly and my mom can’t afford a straightener.”

Ziggy bit her lip, chewing on the chapped skin. She wasn’t really sure what to do in this situation. Kindness wasn’t her strong suit. This kid was clearly going through what she had with Sheila, and if it was going to last as long as it had with her, she’d better toughen up. Fast.

“Get lost. Again. I don’t want you leading some Sunnyvalers out here. You’re gonna blow my cover.” The demand was meant to be forceful, but Ziggy could barely muster up an annoyed mumble. Convinced of her success as the girl began to back away, she sat down once more, opening the sketchbook and beginning to trace out the shape of a face.

“You draw?”

Ziggy slowly turned to find the girl crouched behind her, peering over her shoulder with round, curious eyes that were now conveniently dry.

“You should draw me. I’ve never had anybody do that before.” She met Ziggy’s eye, smiling and holding out her hand. “I’m Jesse.”

…

“You never give up, do you?” Ziggy mumbled, picking up the pace as she wound along the path back to the campsite an hour later. Losing this kid had proved impossible – she was fast on her feet.

“I don’t want to get lost again. Have you heard the story of the witch out here? I don’t even like talking about it. Spooks me. Nora keeps telling me Sarah Fier will get me if I try to hide from her. I guess that’s why I stick around her so much. I feel at least a little bit safer. But I guess these woods aren’t so scary after all, if you can sit out here and not be afraid. Or you’re just super brave.”

And chatty. God, she was so, so chatty.

“Nora says her sister talks to the witch. Fights her! She says she lives in the body of another girl at camp, with a scar behind her ear and everything. She says that’s where the witch slipped into her brain and possessed her.”

Ziggy jerked to a stop, Jesse bumping into her with a grunt. Her fingers immediately moved behind her mass of wavy ginger hair, brushing against the raised line of skin hidden just behind her ear. That made a lot more sense. Nora’s older sister was Sheila. She'd heard that rumor before. But hey, maybe this would get rid of her unwelcome follower.

She turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow at the girl who was only a few inches shorter than her. “Well, maybe the reason I’m not scared is ‘cuz I AM the witch.” She made a boo motion with her hands, but Jesse just giggled and shook her head.

“You’re not a witch. You’re too nice for that.”

Ziggy’s brow furrowed as the girl moved around her, scampering along the path and emerging into the light of the clearing. She dropped her hands to her sides, mildly insulted. Nice? Did the little twirp just call her nice?

Shaking her head slowly, she pushed a strand of frazzled hair behind her ear and walked back into the circle of cabins.

“Everyone, bunk up! Curfew’s in ten, lights out in an hour!”

She was surprised to find Kurt ringing the bell, calling the campers to their cabins. She must’ve been out there longer than she’d thought.

Reluctantly, she made her way to Cabin 5, quietly opening the door and walking right into a mass of shrieking, chattering girls. Some threw clothes at each other, others lounged on their friend’s beds, painting nails or braiding hair. The worst part was, there were really only half of them there, and most who came the first week were Sunnyvalers. In seven days, there would be another mob of girls invading the cabin. At least there would be more Shadysiders, even if that wasn't much of a solace. Both groups seemed to dislike her -- one just substantially more.

Ziggy made a face, moving to grab her pajamas, seeing as it was nearing 9:00 curfew. Everyone else had evidently already changed.

She slipped outside and into the small wooden room that constituted as the bathrooms. She wouldn’t risk changing in her cabin, not in front of Sheila. She’d try everything to humiliate her.

Ziggy would never admit it, but she felt a twinge of jealousy when she saw the other girls, Sunnyvale and Shadyside alike, in their bunks. It seemed everybody had a friend. Contrary to popular belief, she didn’t hate everything. She liked painting her nails and getting her hair done and chatting. When she was a lot younger, she’d done that with Cindy. She’d had a friend, a long time ago, just a hazy face that moved away before the second grade. But at some point, other girls had started labeling her as “weird” and “witchy”.

At this point, Ziggy didn’t even bother to deny it. She was beginning to believe it herself. But if that’s what they were going to call her… might as well play into the evil characterization.

Finished changing into her pajamas, which consisted of an oversized David Bowie t-shirt and flannel pants, she exited the stall and went to open the door. She pushed, but the wood remained firm beneath her palm.

“What the… hello?” she called, a note of panic in her voice. She slammed her fist against the door. It wasn’t just lodged. She heard the giggle of Sheila before her footsteps pattered away. “Hey – let me out!” she shouted, frustration mixed with fear in her voice. She could get in trouble for missing curfew. “Sheila, I swear to God I’ll…!”

She tried escaping for a few more minutes before slumping to the ground, absentmindedly picking at a splinter now embedded in her palm. It was getting dark, but at least the bathroom had lights. And it didn’t smell as terrible as it could, seeing as it was still the first day.

An hour later, the bell rang for lights out, and still nobody had come to her rescue. There were no bathroom trips past curfew, so… chances were, she was stuck there until dawn.

“Shit – Ziggy, you in there?”

She shot to her feet, placing her palm flat against the door and nodding vigorously despite the fact that her unknown savior couldn’t see her. “I… yeah. If you could open up the door, that’d be great.” She tried to cover up her relief with her signature sarcasm, but she felt like kissing the ground. Well, once she got out of there. Bathroom floor wasn’t at the top of her make-out list. Nobody was, really.

"I was looking for you. My count came up one short and I've been all around camp." The door swung open, and Ziggy was met with Nick’s worried eyes. “What happened?” He seemed concerned, for a Sunnyvaler. Maybe he wasn't such a terrible councilor after all. Most didn't actually care about their campers -- just their paycheck.

“The door must’ve jammed,” she replied with an eye-roll, moving past him and continuing to pick at the splinter in her palm.

“Hey, wait!” He jogged after her, eyeing her fidget. “Was it Sheila? I know how she… is.” He frowned when she didn’t reply, pushing his dark hair off of his forehead. “Is something wrong with your hand? Did you hurt it? I can–”

“You really don’t shut up,” Ziggy muttered, still making her way to the cabin as quickly as possible. She just wanted to go to sleep. After she freed that damn splinter. It stung.

“There are tweezers. In Nurse Mary’s office.”

The blurted admission finally caught her attention, and she turned to face Nick with renewed interest. She’d never really studied his face before. Maybe it just looked different, highlighted by the moonlight. More mysterious, sharp, his eyes more shadowed. He seemed tired, which was a little bit ridiculous. Sunnyvalers didn't have trouble sleeping.

“She’s in her cabin,” she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at him. "It's past lights-out."

He smiled confidently, holding up a jingling key ring. “Just your luck. I happen to be a counselor.”