Page 12 of Camp Help Falling

“It’s the altitude,” she says, propping a hand on her hip. “You’ll get used to it in a few days.”

Waking up early without coffee, the altitude, the camp songs. For Sadie, it seems like there’s nothing a few days won’t fix. I’m sure in her mind, I’ll be a pro at all this by the end of the week. While I admit, today wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, it wasn’t a walk in the park, either.

“I’ll be alright,” I say through my heaving breaths.

“Good.” Sadie’s smile is the easiest thing to pick out in the fading light, whether because her white teeth are a stark contrast to her tan skin or because she radiates her own sort of light, I can’t say. “Well, you should do your curfew check. I’ll run up to the lodge and be back for final checks before you know it.”

Sadie raises her hand like she’s going to pat me on the arm, but then changes her mind and drops it to her side. The darkening night hides a lot of the expression on her face, but I can still see the way she blinks away the awkwardness of whether or not to touch me in a completely platonic way. She throws up a hand in a wave and turns to walk down the path, through the cabin area, and up toward the lodge.

I stand, watching her retreating figure in the dim light longer than I probably should. I shouldn’t stare, knowing I can’t act on any of my thoughts about how beautiful and capable Sadie is, but I can’t help myself. Luckily, there aren’t any boys—participants or staffers—still in the open area around the cabins.

While Sadie didn’t give me explicit instructions on what to do for my curfew check, I crack open each door and count the number of boys in each cabin—six. Some cabins still have lights on, and I remind them to turn them off. When I stop at the end of the row, all male staffers and participants are accounted for, and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief that I’ve made it through my first day.

Chapter Seven

Sadie

By the time I make the fifteen minute trek up the barely-there path behind the firebowl, it’s almost too late. It’s been a long day, between greeting a fresh set of participants and following Oliver around, making sure he didn’t get lost.

I mean, it’s not entirely his fault—the guy has never been to a camp in his life. I doubt he’s ever been regular camping either, unless you count in a trailer that costs as much as a house, but certainly never anything as back-country as this.

And we’re not even in the real backcountry.

I don’t know what compelled his parents to buy a summer camp out here in the mountains, but it certainly wasn’t because of Oliver. He could have said no to his parents and gone back to wherever he came from, but he stayed. Even though he’s so out of his depth—I know because he mentioned it to me several times today—he’s here and he’s trying. Usually with a smile on his face.

Tonight’s campfire was a prime example. There were a few moments I thought I’d have to step in and help him out with the lyrics, but he caught himself and kept going. A few more days, and he probably won’t need me to follow him like a puppy, making sure he’s doing everything right. He might not have ever done anything like this before, but he’s picking up on it quickly.

I checked back in with Oliver after the final curfew check, and seeing that he had everything under control, I left him with another lame wave and headed back here to the fire bowl. I checked over my shoulder the whole way, making sure I wasn’t followed. That would be the worst way to begin the summer—blowing my longest kept secret to the whole camp. Because once one person knows, everyone knows.

The trees thin out as the almost-path crests a hill and opens up to a fairly bare overlook looking out across the back side of Camp Brower. A solitary boulder rests in the middle of the open space, almost like it was placed there.

This place is at the very edge of Camp Brower. Just down the hill from that rock is the wood-and-wire fence that marks the property line. But this rock is special for a few reasons.

One, it has the best view of Garden City, Utah. On the Fourth of July, you can see the fireworks and their reflection in Bear Lake. It’s the best fireworks show without the crowd.

Two, I’m one of the very few people who know it exists. It’s been a closely-guarded secret, especially over the last several years. Because…

Three, it’s the only place in Camp Brower where you can get cellphone reception.

Ten years ago, when I first started working here, cell reception wasn’t that big of a deal. I could go a whole summer without looking at a phone or talking to my friends from home because I had a whole set of friends up here. But as I’ve gotten older, the need to be connected to the outside world has increased. Especially now as I have a few applications out for post-summer jobs. I was able to ignore everything for a week while we set up the camp, opting for an early bedtime over this long walk, but even I have to answer to reality every once in awhile.

As much as I want to go back to those cellphone-less summers, I need to stay on top of things. At least a few times a week. Hence the forever long walk to Cell Phone Rock.

As I perch on the boulder that’s barely larger than a chair, I pull out my phone, holding the button to power it on. As soon as it finishes booting, it begins buzzing non-stop in my hand, notification after notification showing up. I swipe away all the ones from my social media and random apps, and press on the one for the group text from the Sunny Girls, my housemates from college.

A picture from Brooke—a selfie of herself with a beautiful, sparkling ocean in the background—comes through first. She’s smiling and she looks gorgeous, and it’s clear to see that she looks happier without her lousy ex. More texts from the other girls—Chloe, Ava, Meg, and Maggie—flood in, all supportive of Brooke and her solo honeymoon. She must have sent the picture last week. Even though I’m days late, I tap out my own reply, half to be supportive and half to let my best friends know I haven’t been eaten by a bear.

Me: Looking gorgeous! You and the view—I told you no bangs was your style!

I don’t sit around waiting for a reply. The first year I came to camp after meeting these girls, I always apologized about never responding on time, but they’re a great group of friends and assured me it doesn’t matter. Now, it’s just our big summer joke that “Sadie is never around when you need her.”

I keep scrolling through the messages I missed, catching up on all of my friends’ comings and goings for the last week and am shocked when I pass a second picture from Brooke. I have to go back and read the barrage of texts to figure out who is kissing her in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle because that gorgeous man is definitely not her sleazy ex. I send another text, finding a little smile for myself when I realize that picture came in this morning, and I’m not nearly as late on that reply.

After catching up with the girls, I ignore the texts from my mom, asking for any updates on my job hunt, and tap open my email to start clearing out over a week’s worth of junk.

“What is this?”

Oliver’s voice behind me startles me enough that I almost drop my phone, but I catch it just before it hits the ground.

---