"...about this, Bobby. Anger and threats aren't the way to get peoples' respect. You have to respect them back."

Bobby's eyes darted up to meet hers, away from the sight of her hands cupped gently in his own. Seeing that familiar, piercing look in her eyes - the one she always got when she was anxious about how well she was being understood - he quickly nodded. "Yeah, gotcha. Respect others." the boy repeated.

"Good. Don't let anger make decisions for you, okay? Keep yourself grounded. I know you've got a good head under all that hair."

He gave another nod, this time feeling traces of a smile working across his face at the compliment he was paid. Matching his smile with one of her own, Chloe hopped down off of the log she'd perched herself on and moved to gently withdraw her fingers from his grasp. He relinquished them reluctantly.

"It'll be dinner soon, so we should stop there." the younger girl noted, hands on her hips as she gazed at the sky's transitory hues. "I wanted to hammer out some more details on the ablative shielding. See you later?"

"Yeah, of course. You got it, Chloe. Respect. Gentle."

"I'm glad that we can have these talks."

She was glad. Glad to talk to him.

Bobby straightened up, rubbing his neck with a nervous laugh. "Me too, it's… really good. Haha. Talking."

That piercing look she held was replaced by something more gentle - a look of relief and approval. A warmth spread through him, one that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Taking his cue, and being freshly out of things to say, Bobby eased himself off of his own log. She awarded him a smile before turning to pull a notebook out of her backpack - he was seconds late to return it, his own mouth curling upward in a way that felt unnatural.

Bobby considered a good-bye, but the silence quickly grew too long. Instead, he turned and left Chloe to her notes.

The smile he wore survived only twenty steps. As he grew further away from her, his snaggle-toothed scowl took its place, and his straightened stride gave way to a more comfortable, loping swagger.

Twenty steps was a lot more than he'd managed two months ago.

His mind flashed back to that day at the cabins, the image of Chloe sitting beside him still fresh. That had been the beginning of this… whatever kind of relationship it was. Once a week or so, Chloe would pull Bobby to some secluded location for a talk. The conversations weren't very focused - often the topic zigged and zagged between Chloe's plans for the future, Bobby's school life, some technique that one or both of them was having a difficult time with, and so on - but one way or another, they would usually come to the topic of Bobby's behavior.

Which, as Chloe put it, "needed some work."

All that stuff about respect and not giving in to anger and junk… it was pretty garbage that Bobby would've stuffed down some loser's shirt if it came from anyone but Chloe. She didn't have that nagging, lecture-y way of speaking that his teachers had, or the cocky "I know what's best for you" shit he got from Phoebe whenever he could be assed to sit still long enough. Chloe never made him feel like a dumb failure.

And the whole time she was talking, she had this feeling of… he didn't even know how to describe it. Specialness? Brightness? He wasn't some kind of nerd poet that knew all the rules for describing someone fancily, but for sure he felt like Chloe was unique. Like he was talking to someone that was really worth listening to. It wasn't a feeling he'd ever had before. Two months later he still didn't know what to make of it.

One thing was for sure, though; Benny hated it. The big-eared wimp had finally stopped sneering whenever he crossed paths with Chloe, probably because he didn't want another dose of Bobby's special hand-shaped concussion medicine, but he still had plenty of smart-alecky comments to make on Campster when he was out of reach.

Something about Chloe was really grating on Benny. Bobby didn't really care what it was, but he was starting to get seriously pissed about all of the disrespect coming out of his lackey's dumb face. It figured that he'd only finally start getting serious about this camp bully deal when it came to someone Bobby didn't want bullied.

Speaking of the mess hall, Bobby could see it now, looming in the distance as he sauntered out of the woods. Beady eyes narrowed, sweeping left and right across the campgrounds. The little dumbass was nowhere to be seen. That was good, he guessed - no doubt there'd be a fight if he ran into Benny now, and that senile cook in the mess hall was probably only one more thrown trash can away from a huge aneurysm.

He hadn't seen so much as an earlobe from Benny since a few days ago, when he posted that moronic comment about how the older boy "would be sorry." Whatever Fideleo was planning, it made Bobby's fists itch. He was gonna have to take another moron to pound town soon, he could feel it.

Though speaking of morons, he did catch a smelly eyeful of Phoebe. The two of them were matching pace on a pair of roads that converged on the way to the mess hall. Bobby rolled his eyes, wondering if he should just cut across the grass to avoid her, but nah. He'd never run from Dr. Love before and he wasn't gonna start now.

Shrink Junior glanced his way as their paths met.

"Oh, Bobby - "

"Warning, warning, Officer Vomit Face is on deck." the older boy cut her off, sneering down into her face as she recoiled. "Oh, sorry Phoebe - my automatic 'ugly loudmouth' alarms went off. Guess you got uglier and louder since last time! Ha ha!"

He watched with a twisted satisfaction as Phoebe bit back a hot retort, instead brandishing a smile. Stick a 'sorry' in there and she'd melt. What a chump.

"Those are some interesting sensors, Bobby. I'm surprised I haven't heard of them before." the girl replied, turning back towards the mess hall and speaking without looking at him. "Something you got recently?"

"More like when I first got here. I'm just telling people now out of consideration, since I'm feelin' nice."

The word 'consideration' barely escaped Bobby's mouth in one piece. He caught sight of Phoebe's lips pursing ever so slightly and felt his face twist further.

"'Nice' is a good thing. I think there are better ways for you to express dissatisfaction, but this is a good start."

"You're right - a good start for you to face your butt-faced ugliness."

"You've still got a lot of the classic Bobby charm though. With some more work, I'm sure we can turn that 'nice' into a proper compliment very soon. Can I thank Chloe for these recent developments?"

The grin which had been spreading on Bobby's face leveled off. He narrowed his eyes at Phoebe, who continued to look ahead. "None of your business, brain detective."

"Of course it's my business, Bobby." Phoebe sighed. "And don't call me that."

"I don't care what books you been reading, Love, but this ain't a therapy session. You stay away from - "

Phoebe cut him off with a sharp glance. "From Chloe? That's a very possessive and harmful thing for you to say." she remarked. "She's my friend and I worry about her."

Worry about her.

Harmful.

The shorter girl shrugged, matching Bobby's pace as he slowed to a halt. She was in lecture mode. "It's good that you're making some progress with her. She's a good person and you could learn a lot from her. I've been trying to help out, but there hasn't been much I can do. Chloe's really gifted. But you can't just demand that people do things. I hope this isn't how you talk to - "

Bobby stepped closer, face dark, and seized Phoebe by the front of her shirt, wrenching her around to face him. He stared into her eyes as they went from assertive to panicked. He lifted her from the ground, feeling her grab onto his wrists and frantically kick out at him. She'd forgotten a thing or two, seemed like.

"I'm not sayin' it again." he snarled, lips curled back sharply. "Mind your own business, Phoebe, or I won't be the only one with problems."

And he shoved her away, watching her stumble on her landing and fall to the ground. Phoebe raised a hand in defense against the figure looming over her, fists shaking. Though she tried to look confident, he could see her eyes getting shinier.

That was enough. As soon as Bobby saw the first tear brimming he turned, scowling, and followed the path to the mess hall alone.

By the time he reached the doors, the deafening fury raging in his mind had subsided to a steady seethe. Calm enough to realize he was really glad Chloe hadn't seen that. After all the talk about not giving in to anger and talking things out, of course the first thing he did was turn around and threaten Phoebe. What would she say?

It was effective, though. Maybe she'd watch her mouth now and they wouldn't have any more incidents. He was supposed to be playing nice, but his usual methods hadn't failed him yet. He'd practice being better on people who weren't freakishly overconfident bitches.

"DINNER TIME! SIT DOWN YOU HOOLIGANS! AND YOU, SCARY KID - I SWEAR IF ONE MORE DEVIL-PICKING TRASH CAN LEAVES THE FLOOR I'LL GIVE YOU TRIPLE CARROTS FOR A WEEK!"

Bobby walked past the bellowing chef and took his normal seat at the corner of the cafeteria, casting his eyes over the chattering campers. A few minutes later Phoebe walked in, stiffly avoiding his gaze, and sat next to Mikhail. The redhead's eyes narrowed, and he cocked an ear as the commie with a speech problem asked about the dirt on her back.

...harmful, huh. Possessive. Dangerous.

Bobby Zilch knew he was dangerous, and everyone else knew it too. Every crying baby that set foot in this camp knew it belonged to him, and they'd have to pay to be here now and then. Being dangerous even punched his ticket for this camp.

But he really didn't want Chloe to think that.

Bobby put a hand under his chin, lazily eying the pig slop the chef was passing around. She probably didn't, right? She thought he was 'unruly,' and a bully (which he was, he thought with a smirk), but not dangerous.She wasn't afraid of him. He'd been worried during the first week that she was just really good at hiding it, not wanting to set him off. Worried that she saw him the way everyone else did. But she didn't.

She even asked if they could email each other when camp was over. Bobby didn't have an email - he didn't even have a computer - but he knew that there were some at school, and it wouldn't be too hard to get to them. It was the one thing he had to look forward to going back home. Last year he didn't care which garbage field full of sobbing kids he was in, but now Chloe was at Whispering Rock. It pained him a little to think of leaving.

She wanted to talk to him more, though.

"Now that's more like it! Progress!" the chef remarked, seeing the smile beginning to grow across Bobby's face as he slapped the tray of food down. "Glad you like the food, you little ragamuffin!"

Chloe wasn't like the other kids. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't some dumbass who thought she was smart - she really was smart. She was amazing. She was strong.

At first, Bobby was afraid she'd been faking it. He was afraid she was scared. He worried that somehow, sometime, he'd break her. But he couldn't.

He could never break her.