Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 62
The Proposition

"So I've been thinking," Dad said at breakfast one morning in mid-June, about a week after graduation. "You have the whole summer ahead of you before middle school starts. And I think it might be time for something... different."

Ash looked up from his cereal. Mom paused with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. Sophie—who'd been spending her weekdays at their house while Claire worked—stopped chattering about her swimming lessons.

"Different how?" Ash asked cautiously.

"When I was your age—eleven, going into sixth grade—my father sent me to sports camp. Pine Ridge Sports Academy. Two weeks in the mountains, all boys, every sport you can imagine. Baseball, basketball, soccer, swimming, rock climbing, archery, you name it." Dad leaned back in his chair, a reminiscent smile on his face. "Best two weeks of my summer. Made friends, learned new skills, got to be independent. Really helped me grow up."

Ash's stomach did a small flip. "Okay..."

"I sent Declan when he was your age too. He loved it. Came back more confident, more mature. It's a rite of passage in the Walsh family, really." Dad looked at him directly. "I think you should go this summer. They have a session starting in three weeks—July 10th through the 24th. Two full weeks."

"Two weeks?" Ash repeated. "Like... overnight? Away from home?"

"That's generally how sleepaway camp works, yes." Dad's tone was gentle but firm. "You'd stay in cabins with other boys your age. Counselors supervise everything. It's very structured, very safe. And you'd love it—it's all sports, all the time. Right up your alley."

Mom set down her coffee cup. "Patrick, we haven't discussed this."

"I'm discussing it now. With both of you." Dad looked between them. "Noam's going into middle school. He's ready for more independence. This is a perfect opportunity."

"But two weeks—" Mom started.

"Is exactly the right amount of time. Long enough to really experience it, short enough that he won't get too homesick." Dad pulled out his phone, showed them the website. "Look, Pine Ridge has been around for forty years. Excellent safety record, great staff-to-camper ratio, beautiful facilities. It's not some sketchy wilderness thing—it's a proper program."

Ash looked at the website over Dad's shoulder. Photos of boys swimming, boys on baseball fields, boys climbing rock walls, boys sitting around campfires. All of them looking happy and confident and exactly like the kind of kids who belonged at sports camp.

"What if I don't want to go?" Ash asked quietly.

"Why wouldn't you want to go? You love sports. You love being active. This is literally a camp designed for kids exactly like you." Dad scrolled through more photos. "Baseball, your favorite sport. Swimming, which you're good at. Basketball, soccer, archery. They even have a ropes course and wilderness survival skills. It's everything you like, all in one place."

"With a bunch of kids I don't know."

"That's part of the experience. Making new friends. Learning to navigate social situations independently." Dad set his phone down. "Noam, you're going into middle school. You're not going to be the little kid anymore. This is about building confidence, independence, resilience. Skills you need."

"I have confidence," Ash protested.

"You do. But there's a difference between confidence with your established friend group and confidence in completely new situations. This camp teaches you to adapt, to make friends quickly, to handle challenges without your parents or siblings around to help." Dad's voice was patient but insistent. "Every Walsh man has gone to Pine Ridge. My father went, I went, Declan went. It's tradition. And now it's your turn."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"Like what?" Dad asked. "If you get hurt, there's a full medical staff on site. If you get homesick, you can call us—they have designated phone times. If there's an emergency, we're only two hours away. But nothing is going to go wrong. It's camp. It's structured. It's supervised. It's safe."

Mom was watching Ash carefully. "How do you feel about this, honey?"

How did he feel about it?

Terrified, honestly. Two weeks away from home, surrounded by boys he didn't know, in an environment completely outside his control. What if someone figured out something was wrong with him? What if he didn't fit in? What if—

But also... intrigued. Maybe even excited, under the terror.

An all-boys sports camp. Completely male environment. No parents watching, no sisters around, no family dynamics to navigate. Just him and other boys, playing sports and doing outdoor activities.

The kind of summer experience he'd fantasized about in his previous life. The kind of normal boy childhood thing that had never been available to him before.

"I don't know," Ash said finally. "It sounds kind of scary."

"Of course it's scary. All new things are scary." Dad leaned forward. "But you know what? You've done scary things before. You went to kindergarten not knowing anyone. You tried out for baseball. You stood up to bullies for Alex. You gave a speech in front of two hundred people last week. You can handle two weeks at sports camp."

"Patrick," Mom said carefully. "Maybe we should let him think about it. Not push him into—"

"I'm not pushing. I'm encouraging." Dad looked at Ash again. "Here's the thing. When I was your age, I didn't want to go either. I was nervous. My father told me I was going anyway, that it would be good for me, that I'd thank him later. And you know what? He was right. Those two weeks changed my summer. Changed how I saw myself. I came home stronger, more confident, more independent."

"Declan felt the same way," Dad continued. "Didn't want to go, went anyway, loved it. Came back talking about all his new friends and everything he'd learned. It's one of those things that seems scary beforehand but ends up being amazing."

"What if I'm not like you and Declan?" Ash asked quietly.

"You are like us. You're a Walsh. You're athletic, you're competitive, you're capable." Dad's voice was firm. "This is what Walsh men do. We push ourselves. We try new things. We don't let fear hold us back."

Ash looked at Mom, hoping for support. But she was looking at Dad with an expression that said she knew she'd already lost this argument.

"When would I have to decide?" Ash asked.

"The session starts July 10th. Registration closes next week. So... soon." Dad pulled up the registration page. "If we sign you up now, you'd have three weeks to prepare. Get your gear together, mentally prepare, all of that."

"Three weeks," Ash repeated.

"Three weeks. And then two weeks at camp. And then you'd have the rest of the summer to hang out with your friends and relax before school starts." Dad closed his phone. "Look, I'm not going to force you. But I strongly, strongly encourage you to do this. I think it'll be one of the best experiences of your summer. Of your childhood, even."

Sophie, who had been quietly listening this whole time, spoke up. "I think you should go, Noam. It sounds fun. And you'd get to tell me all about it when you came back."

"See? Even your niece thinks it's a good idea." Dad smiled. "What do you say? Want to at least look through the website? See what activities they offer?"

Ash took the phone, scrolled through the site. There were photos of everything Dad had mentioned—sports fields, swimming pools, climbing walls, archery ranges. Boys in groups, laughing and competing and clearly having a good time.

The camp was divided into age groups. He'd be in the 11-12 group, which looked like it had about thirty boys. They'd stay in cabins of six, with a counselor. Daily schedule included morning sports, afternoon activities, evening free time, and campfires.

There was a baseball clinic. A swimming competition. A camp-wide tournament in multiple sports. Wilderness survival skills. A talent show on the last night.

It looked... actually kind of amazing. Exactly the kind of thing eleven-year-old boys would love.

"Can I think about it?" Ash asked.

"Of course. Take a day or two. But I'd like to have an answer by the weekend so we can register if you decide to go." Dad stood, started clearing breakfast dishes. "And Noam? I really do think you should do this. Trust me on this one."

After Dad left for work, Mom sat down next to Ash.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know how I feel."

"That's fair. It's a big thing." Mom was quiet for a moment. "Your dad is right that it's a Walsh tradition. And he's right that it's good for building independence. But you're also allowed to not want to go."

"But if I don't want to go, I'm being a coward."

"That's not what I said." Mom touched his shoulder. "Being nervous about something new doesn't make you a coward. It makes you normal. But—" She paused. "I do think your dad has a point. This could be really good for you. And you are ready for more independence."

"What if I'm not?"

"Then you'll figure it out. That's what camp is for—learning to handle things on your own. Making mistakes in a safe environment. Growing up." Mom smiled slightly. "And honestly? I think you'd have fun. You love sports. You're good with other kids. This is exactly your kind of thing."

"But two weeks—"

"Is a long time when you've never been away from home before. I know. But it's also not that long in the grand scheme of things. And you can call us. Write letters. It's not like you'd be completely cut off."

Ash looked at the website again. At the photos of boys his age, doing exactly the things he liked doing.

"Can I call Marcus? See what he thinks?"

"Of course." Mom stood. "Take your time. Think it through. But be honest with yourself about whether you're saying no because you genuinely don't want to go, or just because you're scared."

Marcus came over that afternoon. They sat in Ash's room, looking at the Pine Ridge website on Ash's laptop.

"Dude, this looks awesome," Marcus said, scrolling through photos. "Rock climbing? Archery? They have a baseball clinic with a former minor league player?"

"Yeah, but it's two weeks. Away from home. With kids we don't know."

"So? That's the fun part. Making new friends. Trying new stuff." Marcus looked at him. "Why don't you want to go?"

"I didn't say I don't want to go—"

"But you're nervous about it. Why?"

Ash struggled to articulate it. "What if... what if something goes wrong? What if I don't fit in? What if everyone else is better at stuff than me?"

"Then you get better. That's the whole point of camp, right? Learning new skills?" Marcus clicked on the schedule page. "Look, they have baseball every single day. You're already good at baseball. That's an automatic in with other kids."

"I guess."

"And swimming. And you're tall, so you'd probably be good at basketball too. You'd fit in fine." Marcus looked at him seriously. "I think you're psyching yourself out. This looks cool. Your dad went and liked it. Declan went and liked it. You'd probably like it too."

"You think I should go?"

"Dude, yeah. If my dad was offering to send me to sports camp, I'd be packing already." Marcus grinned. "Plus, think of all the stories you'd have. You'd come back and tell us about all the cool stuff you did, and we'd be jealous that we spent the summer just hanging out in the neighborhood."

"Tyler and Daniel would be here, though."

"And they'd be here when you got back. Two weeks isn't that long. You'd miss like... two weeks of us playing video games and riding bikes. That's it."

Ash looked at the website again. At the smiling boys, the sports fields, the mountains in the background.

"What if I get homesick?"

"Then you call your parents. Or you deal with it. You're eleven, not seven. You can handle being away from home for two weeks." Marcus stood up. "Look, I think you should go. I think you'd have a blast. And I think you're making it into a bigger deal than it is."

"Maybe."

"Definitely. You're overthinking it." Marcus headed for the door. "But whatever you decide, let me know. If you go, you have to promise to tell me everything when you get back."

After Marcus left, Ash looked at the website for the hundredth time.

Pine Ridge Sports Academy. All-boys camp. Two weeks of sports, outdoor activities, living in cabins with other boys his age.

Building independence. Making new friends. Proving he could handle being away from home.

The kind of normal male childhood experience he'd never had in his previous life.

The kind of thing that should excite him, not terrify him.

He thought about Dad's words. About tradition. About Walsh men pushing themselves, trying new things, not letting fear hold them back.

He thought about middle school starting in two months. New building, new teachers, new social hierarchies to navigate. If he couldn't handle two weeks at camp, how would he handle middle school?

He thought about his graduation speech. About being brave. About doing hard things because they were the right things.

His phone buzzed. A text from Dad.

Have you thought more about camp? No pressure, but wanted to check in.

Ash stared at the message for a long moment.

Then, before he could second-guess himself, he typed back:

I want to look at it more tonight. Can we talk about it at dinner?

Absolutely. Proud of you for considering it, regardless of what you decide.

That evening at dinner, the whole family gathered around the table. Dad had printed out the Pine Ridge information packet—a thick stack of papers with schedules, packing lists, activities descriptions, counselor bios.

"So," Dad said, passing the packet to Ash. "What do you think? Any questions?"

Ash flipped through the pages. "What if I don't like my cabin mates?"

"Then you learn to get along with people you might not naturally be friends with. Important life skill." Dad ate a bite of chicken. "They deliberately mix kids from different backgrounds in each cabin. Forces you to adapt."

"What if I get injured?"

"There's a nurse on staff 24/7, and a doctor on call. Plus all the counselors are trained in first aid. You'd be in good hands."

"What if I want to come home?"

Dad's expression became more serious. "Here's the thing. Unless there's a genuine emergency—you're seriously injured or there's a family crisis—you stay for the full two weeks. That's the rule. Pine Ridge has the same rule. You commit to the session, you see it through."

"What if I'm miserable?"

"Then you learn that you can survive being miserable. That discomfort isn't the end of the world." Dad's voice was gentle but firm. "Noam, I'm not going to lie to you. Parts of it might be hard. You might get homesick. You might have a bad day. You might struggle with something. But that's life. That's growing up. And you're strong enough to handle it."

Mom added, "And if you really, truly need to talk to us, you can call during designated phone times. We're not sending you off and abandoning you. We're just... giving you space to grow."

Sophie looked up from her pasta. "When I'm older, can I go to camp too?"

"Different camp, probably," Claire said, smiling. "Girls' camp. But yes, when you're old enough."

Ash looked at the packet. At the daily schedule, broken down by hour. 7:00 AM wake up. 7:30 AM breakfast. 8:00 AM morning sports. 10:00 AM skill clinics. 12:00 PM lunch. 1:00 PM rest period. 2:00 PM afternoon activities. 5:00 PM free time. 6:00 PM dinner. 7:00 PM evening program. 9:00 PM cabin time. 10:00 PM lights out.

Structured. Organized. No room for getting lost or forgotten.

And the activities list: baseball, basketball, soccer, swimming, diving, archery, rock climbing, canoeing, hiking, wilderness survival, campfires, talent show, camp tournaments.

Everything he liked. Everything he was good at.

"Can I see the packing list?" Ash asked.

Dad handed him another page. Sports equipment (some provided, some bring your own), clothing (athletic wear, swimsuits, casual clothes, one nice outfit for the final banquet), toiletries (labeled with name), sleeping bag, pillow, flashlight, water bottle, sunscreen.

"We'd go shopping this weekend," Mom said. "Get you everything you need. Make sure you have enough athletic clothes, good hiking shoes, all of it."

"And I'd be in a cabin with five other boys my age?"

"And a counselor, yes. The counselor is usually a college guy—they hire athletes from local universities. Your cabin becomes your team. You compete together in camp tournaments, do activities together, support each other."

That actually sounded... kind of nice. Having a built-in group. A team.

"What about the talent show?" Ash asked, finding that section in the packet.

"Optional. Kids can do sports demonstrations, tell jokes, play instruments, whatever. It's just for fun." Dad smiled. "Declan juggled soccer balls. I did a comedy routine that bombed spectacularly. It's not serious."

Ash set down the packet. Looked at his parents.

"If I go—" he started, then corrected himself. "When I decide. What happens if I decide I don't want to go next summer? Would I have to keep going every year?"

"No. This isn't a lifetime commitment. It's two weeks. One summer. We're asking you to try it once. If you hate it, you never have to go back." Dad leaned forward. "But I don't think you'll hate it. I think you'll have an amazing time."

Ash looked at Mom. "Do you think I should go?"

Mom was quiet for a moment. "I think your dad is right that it would be good for you. I think you'd learn a lot and probably have fun. But I also think you need to want to do it. I won't force you."

"Dad?" Ash asked. "Are you going to force me?"

"Force is a strong word," Dad said. "But if you're asking whether I'm going to strongly encourage you to go, to the point where saying no would be disappointing me... yes. I believe in this program. I believe it would be good for you. And I think you should trust me on that."

So basically, Ash thought, he was going to camp whether he wanted to or not. The choice was whether to go reluctantly or to embrace it.

"Can I sleep on it?" Ash asked. "Give you an answer tomorrow?"

"Sure. Tomorrow evening, though. We need to register by Friday."

In his room that night, Ash lay in bed thinking about camp.

Two weeks away from home. From Mom and Dad and Sophie and his sisters. From his room and his bed and all his familiar routines.

Two weeks with strangers. Boys he'd never met. Counselors he'd have to trust. New social dynamics to navigate without any backup.

Two weeks of constant activity. Sports and competitions and challenges. No hiding in his room when things got hard.

But also...

Two weeks of being just another boy at sports camp. No parents watching, no family history, no complicated dynamics. Just Noam Walsh, athletic eleven-year-old, same as everyone else.

Two weeks of living in an all-male environment. Cabins full of boys. Sports teams. Brotherhood. The kind of male bonding experience he'd never had before.

Two weeks to prove to himself he could do this. That he could be independent. That he was ready for middle school and all the challenges ahead.

His thirty-three-year-old consciousness saw it for what it was: a controlled environment designed to build confidence in pre-adolescent boys. A formula that had been perfected over decades. A safe way to simulate independence while still being supervised.

His eleven-year-old body felt the nervous excitement, the fear, the anticipation.

Both parts of him recognized this was important. A test. A milestone. A chance to be something beyond just the youngest Walsh child, the good student, the athlete with a complicated history.

A chance to be just... Noam. Boy at camp. Nothing more, nothing less.

He thought about his graduation speech. About being brave. About not letting fear hold you back.

He thought about Alex, navigating middle school as a non-binary kid in a world that didn't always accept them. If Alex could be that brave, could he at least manage two weeks at sports camp?

He thought about growing up. About middle school coming whether he was ready or not. About needing to build the skills to handle increasing independence.

And underneath all of it, he thought about the fact that this was exactly the kind of summer experience he'd desperately wanted in his previous life. Boy things. Sports camp. Living in cabins with other boys. Being part of that world without question.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he got up and went downstairs.

Dad was in his office, working on his laptop. He looked up when Ash appeared in the doorway.

"Can't sleep?"

"I've been thinking about camp."

Dad closed his laptop, gave Ash his full attention. "And?"

"I'm scared."

"That's okay. That's normal."

"But I think I should go anyway."

Dad's face broke into a wide smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think..." Ash took a breath. "I think you're right. That it would be good for me. That I need to try it. That I'd probably like it once I'm there."

"You will like it. I promise." Dad stood, pulled him into a hug. "I'm proud of you. This is a big step. And you're making the right choice."

"Will you register me tomorrow?"

"First thing in the morning." Dad pulled back, hands on Ash's shoulders. "You're going to have an amazing time. And when you come back, you're going to tell me I was right."

"Probably," Ash admitted.

"Definitely," Dad corrected. "Now get some sleep. We've got shopping to do this weekend."

Back in his room, Ash felt the decision settle into his chest. Heavy but also... liberating.

He was going to sports camp. For two weeks. In three weeks.

Pine Ridge Sports Academy. All-boys environment. Living in cabins. Daily sports. Wilderness activities. Complete immersion in normal male childhood experiences.

Terrifying.

Exciting.

Exactly what he needed.

"My name is Ash," he whispered to the dark. "I'm thirty-three years old. I'm eleven years old. In three weeks, I'm going to sports camp for two weeks. Away from home for the first time. Living with other boys. Being independent. Growing up."

He paused.

"I'm scared. But I'm doing it anyway."

Four thousand, seven hundred and nineteen days to go.

But first: two weeks at Pine Ridge. Two weeks to prove to himself he could do this. Two weeks to be just another boy at sports camp.

Two weeks of becoming someone stronger than he was today.

He fell asleep thinking about packing lists and cabin mates and baseball clinics with former minor league players.

Terrified and excited in equal measure.

Growing up, whether he felt ready or not.

One Walsh family tradition at a time.