Page 9 of Camp Help Falling

“Just get yourself up and to the lodge tomorrow morning. I’ll be your shadow tomorrow and show you the ropes. You’ll catch on quick, and you’ll always have the help of the youth staff who lead the participant groups.”

He doesn’t look comforted by my little pep talk.

“Look, you’re sharing a cabin with Austin, the waterfront director. I’ve known him for years. If you have any questions, just ask him. And I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

I look up at Oliver with a soft, encouraging smile. He takes two deep, steadying breaths and pulls out a smile for me.

It does all sorts of things to my insides that I ignore.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sadie.” Oliver picks up the bag I set on the ground and walks up the two creaky stairs to the old cabin door. Pushing it open, he gives me one last smile before disappearing inside.

Chapter Six

Oliver

What is in the camp water that makes this many people this chipper before seven in the morning? Because it’s certainly not coffee. I haven’t seen a single person—adult or otherwise—with a mug or insulated cup signaling that anyone here is fueled by caffeine.

Regardless, everyone is smiling at each other, laughing loudly, and singing some of the weirdest songs I’ve ever heard. The youth staff are lined up in a bucket brigade, passing boxes into the lodge kitchen from the small semi truck that made it up that washboard dirt road at an ungodly hour this morning.

I’m glad my phone had enough battery to last through the night and function as my alarm this morning—while my cabin has electric lights, it does not have power outlets—because after hearing Sadie’s “wake up call” this morning, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

I had barely stumbled out of my cabin, dressed in the staff shirt Sadie gave me last night and the one pair of jeans I brought with me, when she started singing at the far end of the line of cabins on the east side of the lake. Groans echoed from most of the cabins, but not loud enough to overpower Sadie singing, “I’m alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic!” to the tune of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.”

I was neither alive, awake, alert, nor enthusiastic when she stopped in front of my cabin with a smile that looked like the sun itself.

She practically bounced away without another word, more spring in her step than last night, and within minutes, most of the boys were out of their cabins, fully dressed, which I had to admit, was very impressive. I remember being a teenage boy, and I’m not sure I would have answered that wake up call. As I wandered up to the lodge after the youth staff, I prayed for a working coffee maker. A prayer which went unanswered.

That same woman is directing the teenagers around me as I struggle to find the will to fully wake up. I lean against the lodge, watching the youth staff go from typical mess-around teenagers to a small colony of worker ants. Their movements aren’t efficient or orderly, but they get the job done. Sadie spots me and comes over, obviously amused at my grouchy morning persona, putting one hand on her hip while looking up at me with those captivating hazel eyes.

“Not a morning person?” she asks, more lively than anyone should be before seven in the morning.

“Not before coffee.”My gaze slides from the youth staff to Sadie. She tips her head back and laughs, making me want to flinch away from its volume at the same time that I draw closer at its musical quality.

“I didn’t realize the coffee maker was broken, or I would have picked up another one when I was in town on Saturday.” She reaches up and pats the top of my shoulder playfully, which is comical because her arm has to go above her head to reach it. “You’ll be okay, buddy. Give it a few days and you’ll be just like us.”

She says it like it’s a good thing, but a small part of me is horrified that I might turn into one of these bubbly morning people, singing about the Titanic and some Austrian yodeler. All. Without. Coffee.

Absolutely terrifying.

“In the event that I don’t want that to happen,” I begin, “is there an alternative to coffee?” I probably sound like a petulant toddler. Me no workie without my go-go juice. But I only made it through college and my master’s program because of more espressos than I can count, and it’s a habit I’m not going to be quick to break.

At least, by my choice.

“I’m sure if you ask around, one of the boys will have Mountain Dew. Actually, I’m pretty sure almost all of them will have it.” Sadie laughs and shakes her head.

I scrunch my nose, my mouth pinching into a tight frown. That makes Sadie laugh even more.

This woman gives away her laughter freely, and it makes my heart squeeze in my chest. If there weren’t a rule against purpling, I’d be finding a way to turn her all sorts of violet.

“You’re honestly telling me that all this,” I wave at her from head to toe, “happens without caffeine?”

She shrugs and looks away, back to the teens running crates of food into the kitchen. “Yep. Au natural.” The side of her mouth quirks up, but the apples of her cheeks darken in a faint blush. After a few more minutes, all of the crates are unloaded, and she turns back to me. “Let’s grab some breakfast, and then we’ll go over what your jobs are going to be today.”

It’s impossible not to smile back at her, even though I’m terrified for what today will have in store. Until yesterday, I had never set foot in a summer camp, and today I’ll be thrown into the deep end with only Sadie as my life preserver.

As I follow her into the lodge, I hope it will be enough.

After breakfast, Sadie steers me out of the lodge toward the parking lot. I help her set up a folding table and two chairs that my parents claim when they’re finished with breakfast. Sadie tells me that normally, the lead counselors handle registration, but that she switched things around so I don’t have to worry about it.

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