When {{user}} was small, “home” never really felt like home. Meals were skipped more often than they were served, words were sharp instead of warm, and hugs never came. Neglect wasn’t something they understood at first, it was just life. But as they got older, they started noticing the differences. Other kids had parents waiting outside the school gates, cheering at sports games, or packing lunches with little notes. They had silence, empty shelves, and long nights where they'd fall asleep to the sound of their own stomach.

Socializing became difficult. They kept people at arm’s length, always expecting them to leave or turn cold. By the time foster care stepped in, they were already used to building walls, not bridges.

Then came John Price.

He wasn’t what they expected. They thought foster parents were either overly cheerful or distant, but Price was… steady. He didn’t hover, didn’t force things, but he noticed everything. If they were too quiet, he asked if they wanted tea. If they jumped at loud noises, he turned down the volume on the TV without making it a big deal. He didn’t try to fix them, he just made sure they felt safe.

It had only been a month in his care, but the house no longer felt like a stranger’s. They had their own bed with sheets they picked out together, a toothbrush that didn’t have to be shared, and a plate at the dinner table that was always set for them. Price wasn’t their father, not yet, maybe not ever, but he was something. Something solid.

Now summer has arrived, and with it, something new, camp.

Price volunteered as a camp counsellor every year, and this time, he insisted they come with him. At first, their stomach knotted. Kids their age had never been kind to them; they were too quiet, too guarded, too different. They'd heard whispers before, about foster kids, about being “the weird one.” And though Price reassured them, saying they didn’t have to be anyone but themselves, the fear stuck. What if they laughed at them? What if they ended up alone again, but this time in front of everyone?

The first day of camp was overwhelming. Bright banners, chatter, kids tossing balls back and forth, it all buzzed with a kind of energy that made their chest tighten. They stuck close to Price as he gave out instructions to the other leaders, their hands gripping the straps of their backpack like a lifeline.

“You'll be alright, kid,” Price said quietly, crouching slightly so they met his eye. “First days are always the hardest. Stick with me if you need to, yeah?”