The Annihilation of Foreverland

elbow, “you’ll have plenty of chances to meet girls when you’re ready. Nothing wrong with that, if you ask me. Nothing wrong, indeed. By the way, see those boys down there?”
    He pointed at a group sitting at one of the many picnic tables.
    “That’s your group. You ready to go meet some of your fellow campers?”
    Danny didn’t know what to say. Didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. Mr. Jones walked a little easier to the door this time. He stood a little taller and started to open the door.
    “What’s that building over there?”
    Mr. Jones answered without looking. “We’ll talk about that later.”
    It was past the far end of the field buried in the trees. Its dome-shaped roof was just above the forest canopy. Sunlight reflected off the circular skylights.
    “Come along, Danny Boy. There’s nothing to worry about.”
    Danny followed him, reluctantly. He was thirteen years old. When an adult says there’s nothing to worry about, there’s usually plenty.

4
    Everyone stared.
    Mr. Jones walked damn near zero miles an hour. Danny kept his eyes straight ahead. They cut across the grass. Everyone seemed pretty tan, but the sun bit into Danny’s fair skin. They were aimed at the group at a picnic table near the sun dial. Four of them were playing cards. The fifth was watching. When they got close, the game stopped and they watched the painfully slow approach of Mr. Jones and his sidekick.
    “Well, lookie there,” one of them mumbled. “We got ourselves a new poke.”
    Mr. Jones leaned one hand on the table.
    “Boys.” He took a long breath. “This is your new camper. I’d like you to meet Danny Boy.”
    “Hey, Danny Boy, ” one of them said.
    Most gave a head nod. Danny sort of smiled, waiting for Mr. Jones to either leave or die.
    “This is your group, or camp,” Mr. Jones finally said. “You’ll be going through your work with them for the next couple months, so you’ll get to know them pretty well.”
    “We love pokes,” someone said.
    “Now be nice, boys. You remember what it was like when you first got here, extend some courtesy to this young man. I don’t want to hear about any funny business. You remember that, now. I’ve got my eye on you. Anything happens to my Danny Boy I’ll come down here and tan your hides, you understand?”
    My Danny Boy?
    The card dealer with a shag of black hair waggled his bushy eyebrows and those around the table smirked.
    “I’m not kidding, boys. You try me and see how fast I can reach into my pocket.”
    Danny wondered what was in the pocket. A notepad or a laser beam?
    A golf cart silently pulled up while Mr. Jones eyeballed each of them. The driver was older than Mr. Jones. His gray hair looked wet and parted on the right. The white line of his scalp showed through the part as straight as a razor. He set the brake and made an attempt to get out but his belly was rubbing against the steering wheel. He got it on the second try.
    “Mr. Miller,” Mr. Jones said.
    Mr. Miller acknowledged Mr. Jones with a nod but ignored the rest of them. He walked to the other side of the table to speak with a gangly kid with an Adam’s apple the size of a walnut. His cheeks were pasty and he stared vacantly at the table while Mr. Miller spoke quietly into his ear, occasionally nodding. The walnut bobbed up and down. Mr. Miller patted him on the back and waddled back to the cart without making eye contact with anyone, again.
    “Remember, I’m watching, boys.” Mr. Jones pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at the rest of them. Danny needed him to leave for a whole lot of reasons. If the rest of the Investors were as decrepit as Mr. Jones, they would be as much help as a box of kittens.
    And when he thought it couldn’t get any worse.
    Mr. Jones waved him over to the cart. He stopped a couple steps away. Mr. Jones pulled him closer and put his hand – soft with lotion – on Danny’s cheek, lovingly. “You call if you need me. All right, my boy?”
    He did not.
    Do.
    That.
    Danny jumped back and shook like a wet dog. Mr. Jones looked a little hurt, but then nodded like maybe he realized and understood that you just don’t do that TO A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD BOY!
    Unless you wanted him to die of embarrassment, of shame and humiliation.
    The entire world would have to be on fire before he called Mr. Jones for help.

    The card game was more important than Danny. That was a good thing.
    He walked away to get some space. If he was going to hang out with