Page 22 of Until Next Summer
I hope she’s in there somewhere. Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long summer.
eight
Jessie
It’s the first morning of Training Week, and the staff is gathered around the firepit. I look around, momentarily unnerved; usually, all the log benches are filled. Having just seven people, including me, is strange.
Especially when one of them is my childhood best friend, who has grown into a polished woman with serious brown eyes and rigid posture. She’s wearing jeans and hiking boots, but the jeans look designer and the boots are pristine—plus, her familiar wild, curly hair has been tamed into sleek layers. She feels like a stranger, and it’s throwing me off balance.
But I gather my wits and stand, smiling.
“Welcome! Thanks for believing in my crazy adult camp idea—we’ll probably hit some bumps along the way, but if we work as a team, we can make this summer Chick-amazing!”
For a split second, I feel silly—this is a group of grown adults—but Cooper raises his coffee mug and says, “Chicka-wonderful!”
Zoey chimes in, “Chicka-wow!”
She nudges Zac, who’s staring at the clouds, mouth open. He startles and says, “Chicka-brilliant!”
Not quite right, but I give him a smile for trying.
“Let’s talk about the structure of camp,” I say, instructing the staff to turn to the first page in their informational binders. “We have eight one-week sessions, with a new group arriving each Monday afternoon and leaving the following Sunday morning. We’ll have different ages each week. Some in their twenties, some in their forties, and even a group in their seventies!”
I notice Hillary smile when I say this. She’s sitting on the edge of the group, keeping to herself. She was like that as a kid, too. I always had to persuade her to get involved, and she’d usually end up enjoying herself.
At least, I thought she did—maybe not. Maybe that’s why she didn’t want to be a counselor with me. Maybe I was too overbearing. Maybe she didn’t like me as much as I liked her.
Focus, I tell myself.
“Each week has a special activity,” I continue. “Scavenger hunt, camp musical, canoe parade, talent show, Color Wars. See page two in your binders for the full schedule.”
“Question,” Zoey says, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.
I smile in her direction. “Yes?”
“Are staff allowed to participate in these activities?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “Different staff members will be responsible for various events—you and Zac are in charge of the canoe parade—but I hope everyone will participate in as many other activities as possible.”
Zac and Zoey grin at each other, like this is the best news ever.
“The daily schedule is listed on page three,” I say, and summarize: flagpole, breakfast, morning activities, lunch,afternoon activities, dinner, then an evening activity. “Since our campers are adults, they get to choose what they participate in. No one’s going from cabin to cabin waking them up. But I want to emphasize something.”
I pause. Everyone is listening intently.
“Obviously, adults won’t need constant supervision, but we still need to be careful. We’ll require everyone to pass a swim test—”
“And no swimming alone,” Zac chimes in.
“Exactly. No one should go off on their own in the woods, either. It’s easy to get lost, especially at night. And remember, we’re here to work. Please be courteous and professional. That means no romantic involvement with our campers. Understood?”
I look around, making eye contact with each staff member. Zac and Zoey nod in vigorous agreement. Hillary nods, too, but she’s been so aloof it’s hard to imagine her hooking up with someone who’s only here for a week.
But I hold Cooper’s gaze until he nods and looks down. Satisfied, I turn to the next page in my binder. “Please take care of your mental and physical health. Camp is exhausting, so if you’re feeling overly tired, let me know, and I’ll make sure you get a break. Page four shows the assigned day off for every staff member, but if you need more—”
“When’s your day off?” Hillary cuts in.
I look up. “What’s that?”
