Page 11 of Camp Help Falling

She bumps me with her elbow. “Just flex your muscles or something.”

I tip my head down slowly to look at her. Sadie’s face is bright red and she’s trying not to look at me. Seeing her flustered over that remark helps me forget about my nerves.

“If you say so,” I mumble to her as the participants applaud the staffers exiting the dirt stage.

Once that act is clear, the kid in front of me hefts a large stick and runs across, pausing in the middle to raise it into the air. “This is a stick up!” he shouts, waiting a moment for the participants to get the joke, before running off the other side.

“Okay, you’re up!” Sadie says quietly, looking up at me with a small smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll be here if you need me.” She pats me on the arm before pushing me forward.

I’ve been in front of about half of these participants all day today, I can manage another five minutes.

Hyping myself up a little like I would before a big lift in the gym, I run onto the stage with a smile. Turning toward the participants, who are sitting on logs spread upward in an amphitheater surrounded by pines, I take a deep breath and project my voice to the back of the firebowl.

“This is a repeat-after-me song!”

The participants shout back, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, “This is a repeat-after-me-song!”

I flick my eyes toward Sadie as I continue with, “This is a do-as-I-do song!” I flex my arms twice—up and down—like Sadie suggested, and I have to smother a smirk when her eyes widen and she looks away quickly.

Now for the song. Please, please don’t mess up.

“There was a great big moose!” I bring my hands to my head like antlers, and the campers respond by repeating my words and actions.

“Who liked to drink a lot of juice!” We continue the song, bouncing back and forth between me and the campers, through the first verse, the second verse, and the third verse. My worries about messing up the lyrics or forgetting the actions disappears as I immerse myself in the goofiness of the song, and more surprisingly, how fun it is to let loose and sing about a moose and his juice.

With the last WAY-O WAY-Os of the chorus echoing through the trees and the fading light, I wave at the participants and run off the stage. Chest heaving from how much breath it took to sing that song at the top of my lungs, I quietly climb up the slope and behind the log seats, trying not to draw attention away from the next skit.

I finally make my way back to where Sadie is standing, and even though it’s quickly darkening, it’s impossible to miss her beaming smile.

“You did it, Oliver!” she says quietly, but with exorbitant amounts of enthusiasm. Hopping from foot to foot, she looks like she’s about to launch toward me for a hug, but she stops herself and raises a hand for a high five instead. That dang purple rule. I smack her palm with mine, taking what contact I can get. “And you didn’t even need my help.”

Sadie’s approval burns bright in my chest as I tuck it away to save for later. Last night, I was certain that I was going to fail today, having never been to summer camp myself, but with Sadie’s guidance, I might just make it the few weeks Mom and Dad are expecting me to stay.

I watch the rest of the campfire program standing next to Sadie, who gently ushers each act on at the right time. The energy of the campers rises and falls with the flames of the fire, building to a bright crescendo, and then simmering down to a pile of smoldering embers. As the flames begin to flicker out, Sadie takes the stage. There’s just enough light to see by, as Sadie draws the attention of the entire camp.

“Thank you all for your participation tonight! We’re going to dismiss you row by row to keep things orderly. Please pay attention to where you’re walking as you exit to make sure you keep your footing. Please head back to your cabins for the night—staffers will be coming around to make sure everyone makes it to the right place.

She extends one arm, indicating the first row to begin filing out of the firebowl. The participants file down the trail, which is lined with the youth staff, who pass out high fives as everyone exits. I stand back and watch as Austin and Mia, the two activity directors, properly douse the remnants of the fire, and as the last campers leave, the youth staff file out after them.

When only the adult staff remain, Sadie turns back to me and motions for me to follow her down the trail. As we walk down the narrow path toward the main trail that circles the lake, she tells me about the evening routine—my evening routine.

“Curfew is at ten, and it's your job as the lead counselor to make sure all the boys are in their cabins. Hailey does the same thing for the girls. Either Tyler or I will come around at about 10:15 to do the final check for the night.”

She flicks her wrist to look at her plain, analog watch.

“Campfire nights are usually later than the others. It’s almost ten now, so we can do a loop through the boys’ cabins on our way up to the lodge.”

Sadie moves in front of me for a particularly narrow part of the trail, and I ask, “What’s at the lodge?”

She throws a smile I can barely see over her shoulder. Mountain grasses hit me in the shins as I veer too close to the edge of the trail in the wan light.

“My phone.”

We finally come to the intersection of the main trail, and Sadie leads me to the right, toward the boys cabins.

“Since there’s no service up here, there’s no point in keeping it on me. So I leave it in the camp office to charge during the day.”

I take two quick steps to catch up to her. She may be small, but she walks fast, and even with my long legs, I struggle to keep up. By the time we reach the outermost cabin, I’m breathing deeply, trying to catch my breath. When she turns to check on me, I’m not quick enough to force my lungs into taking even, shallow breaths, and she chuffs a quiet laugh.

---