Page 31 of Lady and the Camp
Too quiet. “What?”
“You underestimate yourself.”
I adjusted in the chair and the worn leather squeaked. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion on my abilities.”
She nodded and left the room.
Dangit. I’d hurt her feelings. She simply didn’t grasp the work needed to get this camp where it deserved to be. And if I committed to that plan, well, then I’d be stuck. I’d never see Colorado and I knew it.
I left my office to apologize, only her phone rang. She answered on the first ring.
Twila was right. I underestimated myself.In this job.My confidence was in my skills outdoors. Where I wanted to be. Where I belonged.
The next day, I made rounds to the cabins while the girls worked through their activities. I fixed sink leaks and replaced burnt light bulbs. Anything more severely broken went on a list to repair later or hire out.
Emerging from the last empty cabin, I headed toward the central outdoor activity space. And stopped in my tracks.
Bubbly pop music blared from a portable stereo in the rain shelter. Girls lined up in the grass in two rows facing each other. A little girl strutted—that was the only word I could think of—across the grass between them. A huge straw hat nearly covered her eyes. She had on a feather boa and layers of pink clothes. She paused to open a hot pink waist pack, revealing a mini water bottle and a travel size sunscreen. At least she came prepared.
“Work it!” a camper shouted as she danced to the synthetic beat.
At the head of the group stood Hudson, wearing an equally obnoxious assortment of scarves and crafted yarn accessories, clapping enthusiastically along with the campers and counselors.
The next girl to strut wore a pink wig.
“Not my business.” I scouted for a route to the office least likely to attract attention. Maybe I could circle through the woods—
“Lucas! Come join us!”
Too late to run.
But I was fast. I worked out. I lifted heavy things.
I began to turn away, when the voice beckoned again. Hudson waved me over as if we’d planned to meet and I was simply late showing up.
“Mr. Lucas!”
“Luuu-cass!”
Now the campers summoned me, waving and making a fuss.
I kept a wide berth and landed near Hudson. “So, uh, what’s all this?”
“Runway show.” She looked away from me to the next camper walking the grass. A scarf wrapped around the girl’s hair and she had more scarves tied around her waist and at her neck. “Way to work those scarves. Woohoo!”
I rubbed a hand across my face. “You think a fashion show counts as a sanctioned camp activity?”
She flinched. Maybe it was the wordsanctionedthat ruffled her. “Actually, the girls came up with the idea themselves. Next is Dance Club. The girls have been learning dance moves and there’s a disco floor in progress with colored chalk in the rain shelter.”
“That’s a thing? We let the kids run the camp now?” I apparently said that too loud because one of the teens glared at me.
“Yes, it is,” the teen counselor insisted. “The last full day of the camp week, the girls run their own group activity. This won in the vote at Campfire last night.”
“That’s where all the big decisions are made,” Hudson stated. “Nightly Campfire.” She bumped fists with the counselor.
Okay, this was too much. The woman hadn’t even been here a week and she felt the need to informmewhere the decisions were made.
“You look mad,” Hudson said in a lowered voice.
