Chapter 8 Joel
JOEL
Twenty minutes after arriving, Brooke has the students rounded up and seated in the dining area of the main camp.
There are round tables here and, in the corner, some low couches.
The camp staff are in the open kitchen chopping vegetables and preparing dinner.
I notice Bruce, our driver, now has a potato peeler in hand.
It seems everyone shares the chores here.
Brooke stands in front of the group, wielding her clipboard and instructing students on where to drop their bags.
I stand to the side, watching her easy confidence as she explains how the next few days are going to work.
“Stay within the campgrounds. Lights out is nine o’clock, and anyone caught outside of their cabin after that will be sent home immediately.”
“What if you need the toilet?” a girl with mousy brown hair asks.
“You are allowed to go to the bathroom,” Brooke confirms. “But straight there and straight back.”
The girl sinks into her chair looking relieved.
“Your focus here is the assignment,” Brooke continues. “Tell a story in ten minutes. That is the assignment. I’m looking for something more meaningful than a ninety-second sound bite. You need to hold the audience’s attention in an authentic way. And you need to interview at least three people.”
She pulls a piece of paper off her clipboard and holds it up. “This is the schedule; you were all emailed a copy, and I’ll pin this up on the wall right here.”
She strides over to a chalkboard on the wall.
“Tomorrow we stay near camp. Here you’ll find the park ranger, camp staff, an indigenous liaison, a local history expert, and the director of the environmental project.
On Wednesday we drive to Willow Farm, the shared community.
There are people here living off the grid, seasonal workers, and longtime residents. ”
The students are listening intently, and one girl is taking notes. I watch Dana as she sits in her seat with her elbows on the table, her eyes on Brooke.
“On the final day, you can develop your theme further. Some of the environmental protection team will be on site, or you can go back to Willow Farm or visit an indigenous community. See how your story is coming together and what it needs.”
While Brooke explains what they’ll be graded on, I notice a man in khakis hovering by the main door. His expression is troubled.
I head over to him, and he holds out a hand. “Barney, camp director.”
I introduce myself, and we shake hands. “Everything okay?”
He frowns. “We’ve swept the debris up from the storm. I appreciate you not canceling. We get some weather up here in the mountains, and a little rain and wind can scare some people off.”
The place looks fine to me. There are muddy sections, and the mini-bus had to park wonky to avoid puddles, but there’s no evidence of a lot of damage. Yet his expression tells me there’s something I’m missing.
“What’s the problem?”
There’s the scraping of chairs, and the room fills with chatter. I glance up to find the students pushing out from the tables. Brooke heads over towards us, and the camp director introduces himself. They shake hands, and the contact irritates me.
He holds her hand a little too long, and his gaze lingers on her face.
“You were saying?” My voice comes out as a growl, and Brooke stares at me with her eyebrows raised.
“There’s a problem,” I snap.
I realize I’m being rude, but he doesn’t need to fawn over Brooke like that. It’s unwanted attention that she doesn’t need.
Barney licks his lips, and his gaze darts between us.
“The storm did some damage to the cabins, and we’ve had to close Wolf camp.”
The camp is arranged in a diamond shape with a cluster of cabins at each point and the communal buildings in the middle.
“Sounds like you had it bad,” says Brooke.
It’s her natural compassion coming through, but Barney takes it as an excuse to gaze at her.
“I’ve seen worse,” he practically purrs. “We get some weather up here.”
“What’s the damage?” I interject, not liking the way he’s smiling at Brooke.
“A tree came down on Wolf section, took part of a cabin roof with it. We were going to spread you out over the two camps, but I don’t want to put anyone in Wolf until we can get the tree removed. The team have stabilized it so it’s not dangerous, but best not stray into that area.”
“No problem,” Brooke says. “I’ll let the students know.”
“That would be good of you.” He gives her another smile, which is completely unnecessary, and holds out a piece of paper. I snatch it before Brooke can. She gives me a look like I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t want that creep trying to touch her hand.
“What’s this?”
I study the paper, which is a plan of the camp with a big red X through Wolf and the cabins in Rabbit sector labeled with small numbers.
“I moved the students around for you to fit in with the available cabins. Girls spread over three cabins and boys over two. But there is one minor issue.”
He glances between us and winces. “I’ve had to put you teachers in the same cabin.”
Brooke stiffens beside me. “Sorry, what? Why?”
“Because of the storm damage, we’re a cabin short. I usually try to allocate the adults a cabin each, but we just can’t do it this time I’m afraid.”
He looks at me, and his gaze travels over my torso. I’m wearing a t-shirt, and my muscular body is evident under it. My biceps are defined in a way the skinny Barney has no hope of emulating.
“I wish there was another option,” he says with a sigh that makes me think he really means it.
The skin on the back of my neck prickles. The sleeping arrangements shouldn’t matter. Hell, I’ve slept in some pretty hairy places with a room full of guys when I was in the SEALs. But this is different. I don’t want to make Brooke uncomfortable.
“Are you sure there’s no other option? I don’t mind pitching a tent.”
Brooke shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not like we’re sharing a bed or anything?”
She laughs, and it comes out high-pitched and nervous. Her eyes dart to me. “I mean, if it’s fine with you?”
Sleeping in the same cabin as a beautiful woman? Of course it’s fine with me. “Hey, I can sleep anywhere. And if it makes you feel more comfortable, we can hang a sheet up for a screen.”
“There is a flat area behind the cabins where we sometimes put tents,” the camp director interjects hopefully. “You could sleep there.”
Brooke huffs out a breath, and a strand of stray hair billows off her face. “No. I’m not making you sleep in a tent. We’re adults, we can adapt and deal with it.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s only three nights.”
“Three nights,” mutters Barney, giving me a dark look.
Brooke turns to me. “You better not snore.”
She’s adjusted to the new arrangement, adapting quickly. “I’ll let the students know their cabin allocations.”
Half the students have already left the hall with filming equipment.
She leaves the hall, and I follow, my gaze drawn to the way her hips sway as she walks, all confidence, as if she belongs here. Like she belongs in any space she takes up.
Which is going to make it hard to concentrate when she’s sleeping in the same cabin as me. This school camping trip just got a whole lot more interesting.