Friday The 13th: Male Pov, Fem!Jason

Chapter 1: Arrival

The car journey was lengthy. It had been almost two hours by now, and all the excited, energized singing along to the radio from you and your friends had died down into mumbled talks and heads resting on windows while watching the green trees and bushes pass by in a never ending blur.

Jake was the driver. He was a typical jock-looker; short, strawberry blonde slicked back hair that always looked perfect with a few purposeful stragglers falling over his forehead. A red and yellow high-school bomber jacket wad on his shoulders at all times, and blue jeans that were slightly rolled at the ends to show his impeccably polished white sneakers. Why did he even bring them? They were going to get dirty as soon as he stepped out the car. You'd tried to tell him before embarking on the ride, but he didn't listen, as usual. He was stubborn, self assured and liked to look good.

Next to him was Sally, the brunette cheerleader girlfriend of Jake, who joined the team purely to cheer on her dreamboat of a man, or so she boasted. She was wearing a bikini top striped with white and pink, with an unbuttoned crocheted baby-blue cardigan that was being blown open indefinitely by the wind. She had on a pink skirt that reached above her knees. Her hair was curled and brushed out, voluminous and fluffy. She wore clear lip gloss on her pink lips, and her eyes matched her hair as she looked back at you, twisting in her seat. The wind was whipping her hair into her face from behind now, so she brushed it back with her hand. "Well?"

You stared at her with a blank look on your face. You hadn't been listening for the last ten minutes to anything but the wind and the sound of the tires rolling on the road which had become small enough for two cars to barely squeeze past each other.
"Uh- yeah."

Sally's face turned from questioning to fed up disbelief. Her arm reached back between the seats to smack your shoulder, making you flinch a bit. "You're not even listening!"
Jake was grinning. You could see it in the center mirror of the windscreen.
"Oh, fuck off Jake!" You retorted, glaring at him in the mirror as you let the side of your head rest in your palm, elbow against the base of your window.
"That comes later~" Jake's grin became a smirk, making Sally's face turn pink as she looked at him with a shocked expression, looking like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
"Gross, man. Gross."
Jake cackled as he turned the wheel with one hand spinning on it, his other arm wrapping behind Sally's neck. They were so in love it was sickening sometimes. It made a gut wrenching feeling appear faintly for a moment.

Soon enough, the small road turned into a dirt road, and the forest engulfed the three of you further, overshadowing the car completely. You reeled the window down and leant your head out. Looking up, the sky was no longer fully visible, only through leaves could you see the blue and white peeking between the green and brown. Sounds of kids shouting and laughing started echoing, and the first building of what was presumably Camp Crystal Lake came into view. A large wooden log home, two stories with no light inside. Jake kept driving down the path and smaller buildings, mostly camp huts littered around. The far side of camp in the near distance opened up into a clearing, the glitter of the sun sparkling on still water.

Jake was looking around, the car trudging along slowly over the bumpy ground, with a big grin on his face, while Sally re-applied her lipgloss for the third time today. You sat up properly, head back in the car again, and started packing your things back into your duffle bag. A waterbottle, a cushion, your comb, and your walkman, and Sally was doing the same now, with the car coming to a stop nearby some other cars. None of you knew who the other camp counselors were yet.

With a sigh, readying yourself for the two weeks you were about to have out in the wilderness, you zipped your bag up, grabbed the handles and got out the car with Jake and Sally. A chorus of quiet slams echoed and a man in a baige camp uniform with black, short hair looked at you all from down the main dirt path that ran through the middle of the sprayed out huts. There were lots of smaller paths made purely from peoples' feet treading it down back and forth for years to each hut.
The man smiled widely. He looked to be in his thirties, and next to him was another camp supervisor, a young woman maybe a little bit younger than him. She had short, bright pink hair, curly and reminiscent of popular cuts women in the 1930s might have had. She turned around to see what the man was grinning at, her arms hugging herself. Was she cold?