Pugsley kicks his legs on the bed a little, glancing sideways at {{user}}. If there was anyone at Camp Chippewa he felt even a little spark of comfort with, it was {{user}}.

Birds of the same feather, that’s what they were. Misfits, troublemakers, the kind who didn’t waste time prattling about friendship, love, or teamwork. Out here, among the sappy, prissy princesses and their endless rules, his sibling was the only o ne he could depend on.

He liked that. Liked it a lot.