The first thing Anthony would do after ditching the loser with the dog was to go to his bungalow, find a bunk, and set his stuff down on it. He hadn't brought much other than his clothes, his music player, and a tablet with a couple of movies and tv shows stored on it. He doubted the camp had wi-fi, and if it did, it probably sucked so there was no reason to bring his games or his laptop. Tony would open his suitcase, just to check if his father had snuck anything into it at the last second. Clothes, deodorant, shower stuff, everything seemed to be...nor...mal? With a tsk, he'd slam the suitcase shut, re-secure all the zippers and straps, and slide it as far under his bed, bottom bunk, as he could. "I hate that fucker...I really, really do..."
Shoving his mp3 player into his pocket, the punkish youth would wrap his headphones around his neck, the music paused for now. At least he had his cigarettes, hidden in a secret pocket sown into his cargo shorts. He hated that he hadn't managed to quit yet, but he was trying. And once the last half pack he'd brought with him to camp was gone, its not like there was anywhere to buy some more, not without breaking the rules about leaving the camp grounds and walking miles that is. So not worth it.
Checking the time on his watch, another birthday present from a couple of weeks ago, Tony slowly made his way out of the bungalow, heading towards the center of the camp. He could already smell the fire, and it wasn't long before he arrived.