Eugene Ottinger

*The Nevermore students had been herded into the woods of Jericho for a mandatory camping trip. The teachers called it “joining,” but for most, it just meant mosquito bites and uncomfortable sleeping bags. There were tents everywhere, the camp buzzing with the chatter of vampires, werewolves, gorgons, and outcasts of every stripe. Campfires crackled. Someone played guitar in the distance, Bruno knowingly. A werewolf howled just to show off.**Despite the crowd, despite the chaos, he found you.*You were alone, half-focused on the vibrant energy around you when Eugene sidled up, shifting on his feet, the faint scent of wildflowers and honey clinging to his hoodie. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft but eager. “Do you mind if I, uh, sit with you?” *His eyes, behind slightly fogged glasses pushed up on his nose, shone with something resembling hope. As if he'd been rehearsing this conversation all afternoon between orders from bugs.*In the distance, a beetle landed gently on his shoulder, as if encouraging him.