5. Rebecca
The mist rises off the lake as the sun peeks over the mountains. The slight chill in the air at this hour sends a shiver through me as I curl further underneath the blanket that I’ve wrapped around myself and lean against the corner of the swing, holding my coffee mug just below my chin.
I take a long breath through my nose. The early morning dew mixes with the deep aroma of the coffee. This is peace.
Most of the staff should be arriving today. The last several days it’s been a skeleton crew holding things together, the few of us who couldn’t wait and volunteered to help set things up. We’ve spent our time cleaning cabins, hauling the docks back to the lake, and dragging canoes and sailboats out of their winter storage.
I’m already feeling more at ease. This is what I’ve needed—a chance to do something useful, where there’s a clearly defined job to do and outcome needed.
No studying everything that may or may not be on some exam, or that I may or may not need in the future. No guessing at what professors are thinking when they ask you some vague question.
It’s blessedly simple. The docks are here. Move them there. You’re done when they’re all in the new spot.
There’s a part of me that’s nervous for the rest of the staff to get here, which is also part of the reason I’m up so early. At this hour, everyone else is sleeping, other than the two girls who get up to go jogging every morning.
And aside from them, it’s just me right now. Me and the swing and the lake.
Adding to my nerves is the fact that most of the staff that will be working as counselors aren’t even here yet, which means I haven’t even met the people I’ll be spending the most time with.
Meeting new people makes me nervous. I’m always so focused on making sure they like me that I think I end up being weird.
Actually, I know I come across weird. I review the interactions in my head in excruciating detail after the fact, which makes me even weirder. I wish I had a way to just turn my brain off sometimes.
I think that’s why I love camp. Because when I’m in a defined role, it’s easier somehow. It’s not this nebulous, poorly defined social interaction like most things in life.
It’s why I was looking forward to starting third year, actually. Beyond the fact that it’s that much closer to what I want to do with my life, when you’re on your clinical rotations, you have a particular role to fill, so there’s less gray area to be weird.
I frown to myself. I might have been stranger than usual over those text messages. What was the guy’s name? Miller? Odd name, if you ask me.
But to be fair, he wasn’t the most normal with his texting, either. My underwear color? Seriously?
The steam from the coffee hits my face as I take a sip. I hope I can avoid him for the summer. I know I wasn’t the most open and friendly over our short text conversations—give me a pass here, I was kind of in a mood—but he came across… cocky, almost. There was something about him that grated on me, even with just a few messages. My money is on him being an obnoxious prick in real life, too.
I take another sip of the bitter brew. I love coffee all year round, but there’s something extra special about the chilly mornings before a hot day. Like Mother Nature throwing us a little something out of the ordinary, just for those of us who are willing to get up early to experience it.
I stare at the shimmering lake while I finish the coffee, and for a few extra minutes while I hold the empty mug.
With a resigned sigh, I force myself to get up and walk back to the dining hall to return the mug. I’m the only one here, too, in the rustic cabin-like building where all the meals are served and where coffee and hot chocolate are available throughout the day. I set the mug in the bin with the dirty dishes and turn to head back to my cabin.
The remaining mugs stacked along one wall catch my attention. The camp mugs have changed since I was last here, although some, like the one I grabbed for my coffee this morning, are still the old style. They all used to be the standard camp logo, printed in a different color from the ones available for purchase.
The newer ones still have the camp logo, but with STEALING IS WRONG printed in bold lettering beneath it. Apparently, too many counselors didn’t return the mugs.
The thought makes me smile slightly. I have one at my apartment that I appropriated during my first summer on staff, actually. It’s one of my most prized possessions. The added text actually would make it kind of funny if people still stole them. I wonder if the addition has helped or made the mug stealing worse.
I walk back to my cabin, waving at Andrea as she and Bridget pass me, finishing up their morning run, their identical blonde ponytails swaying behind them. They’re in charge of the Swimming and Arts departments this year; I remember them both from when I was a counselor and they were counselors-in-training.
It makes me wonder how many more of my direct supervisors for the summer are people that I was once in charge of.
The two of them reach the cabin before me—so far, there are only six girls who’ve arrived, and we’re all staying in Cabin One—and when I pull the door open, they’re both wrapped in towels, headed for the communal bathroom.
“You guys have a good run?” I ask, holding the door for them.
Andrea nods, wiping sweat off her freckled nose with one hand. “It was good. Perfect temperature for a few miles.”
“You should come with us one of these days,” Bridget adds as the two of them head down the cabin steps.
“Maybe one of these days!” I haven’t run in forever. Like, since third grade when we ran a mile in our jeans during gym class. I wonder if it would help my stress levels. It could go either way, actually. The running might help, but the proximity to people I don’t know well could make it worse.
Then again, it’s hard to get to know people well when you don’t want to hang around with strangers. It’s a vicious cycle.
I tiptoe into the cabin, doing my best not to wake the three girls that are still sleeping in their bunks. Maybe this summer I can push those fears aside and make a few new friends. You know what? That’s my goal. That’s what I’ll do.
It’ll keep me occupied enough to keep my mind off school.
* * *
“Winnie-winnie-hoo-ha! Winnie-winnie-hoo-ha! Rah, rah, rah!” I clap my hands along with the rest of the staff as we yell the camp cheer again, all of us packed into the seats of Meredith Hall—or M-hall, as we all call it.
The large building, named after the closest town, serves as an auditorium, dance hall, and general indoor space during rainstorms. It’s practically identical to the dining hall other than the two-story design, and while the dining hall is filled with tables and chairs, this one’s space is taken up by rows of benches. Right now, the staff take up about three rows, but when the campers come, it’ll be so full that some of the youngest will end up sitting on the floor.
When I was a camper, I assumed the rabid enthusiasm the counselors displayed was just for our benefit, that things were much more muted when it was just staff. I was floored when I showed up for my first summer on staff and realized that nope, all the counselors were just as excited as I was.
Looks like things haven’t changed where that’s concerned, which is comforting.
One by one, staff members have arrived today, settling into the four Ladybugs cabins we’ll be staying in for staff week; two for the boys, two for the girls.
The non-counselor staff that were in my cabin up until this morning—Andrea and Bridget included—have moved into their summer accommodations, spread across camp in little cabins and tents tucked out of the way. It’s just the counselors in this unit now.
There are a few familiar faces. I cringed when two of my former campers came up and gave me hugs. Not that I have anything against hugging, or against them, of course. It’s more that… I should be further along in my life, or something. This is their turn to be counselors, but I’m still here.
But this is just to relax. Remember? I’m here to reset and avoid reality. It doesn’t matter that I have a good four years on most of these kids.
“This is so much fun!” The brunette next to me hooks her arm into mine, giving me a broad smile. “Isn’t this a blast?”
I smile back at her. What was her name?
As if reading my mind, she says, “I’m Vivien. You’re Becca, right?”
I’m about to correct her—it’s REbecca—but I always went by Becca at camp. And I’m here to be anyone but the Rebecca who failed her classes. New scenery, new me. “Yep! Becca. Nice to meet you.”
“First time on staff?” she asks. Her arm is still entwined with mine, and it appears she has no intention of letting it go. Strangely, I don’t mind it.
I shake my head. “No, I was actually on staff a few years ago. I’ve been away for a few summers, but I just missed it so much, you know?” I explain.
She nods. “Oh, I get it, girl. Last summer was my first on staff. It was so random, since I never went to camp as a kid, but my mom told me to try it out. A friend of a friend’s kid was obsessed with this place or something. Long story short, I fell in love.”
We both join in for the “Rah, rah, rah!” chorus.
“With the camp,” she clarifies as the yelling dies down.
I flash her a smile. “I know exactly what you mean,” I say. “I feel like sometimes I’d fantasize about this place. It’s such a blessing that I was able to figure out a way to come back for this summer.”
“What do you do outside of here?” she asks.
I knew this question was coming, but it still sends my insides plummeting. “I—”
Fortunately, I’m saved from answering when the next cheer starts up. Saved by the crazy chanting.
We sit through Brett’s welcome and brief reminder of key rules—no smoking, no drinking, no swearing—and then he tells us to split into groups of six for an icebreaker.
“Come on!” Vivien says eagerly, tugging me with the arm that’s still looped around mine.
I follow her as she grabs another person, then drags both of us along to approach two other people who are standing together, looking lost.
“Want to be part of our group?” Vivien asks, solidifying her stance as the extroverted group leader.
They agree, and we take a seat in a circle on the floor. Besides Vivien and me, there are two other girls and one guy, all of us dressed in the standard camp attire of shorts, worn t-shirts, and sneakers. Vivien’s shirt is emblazoned with a University of Maine logo, making me wonder if that’s where she went to school or if she just knows someone who did.
“The game is Two Truths and a Lie,” Brett says from the stage. “Go around the circle and each person gets a turn to say their name, then tell two true things about themselves and one lie. The rest of the group has to figure out which is the lie. Ready? Go!”
I look around our little group. What should my lie be?
This is a super common game we play here, and it’s almost always the least exciting thing that’s the lie. I’m terrible at lying, so I’m pretty bad at it no matter what lie I come up with.
“Anyone want to go first?” Vivien asks, looking around the group.
No one volunteers.
“Okay, I’ll go. I’m Vivien, of course, and let’s see…” She thinks for a minute, tapping her finger against her nose. “Okay. I have four brothers, I’m in grad school studying chemistry, and I played soccer in high school.”
Hmm. Any of those could easily be true. It’s either the brother thing—maybe she has three brothers, or a mix of brothers and sisters—or she played a different sport. I’m hoping the grad school thing is true, because that means she’s on the older side for a counselor, like me.
“You didn’t play soccer in high school,” I guess.
She smiles.
“You don’t have four brothers.” The blonde girl she tugged into our circle rubs her palm against her knee as she thinks.
The other two take their guesses. Two votes for soccer, two for brothers.
Vivien’s smile grows wider. “I do have four brothers. James, Kyle, Ben, and Tyler. And I played midfield on the high school soccer team.”
“So, you’re not in grad school?” I ask, deflating a little that she may not be as old as me.
She shakes her head and winks. “I am. But I’m studying biology, not chemistry.” Vivien gently elbows me. “You go next.”
“Okay. I’m Becca.” The nickname is feeling more comfortable now that I’m in camp mode. “How about… I’m originally from upstate New York. I love crossword puzzles, and I’m an only child.” I look around the circle, trying not to laugh. It’s so hard to lie.
“You’re not an only child?”
“I think you’re not from upstate New York.”
“Hmm. The crossword puzzle one is too easy. I think that’s the lie.”
I let a few giggles slip out. Only one person—a guy across from me, whose name I haven’t gotten yet—correctly guesses that I’m not from upstate.
“I’m from New York City originally. I live in upstate New York now, though,” I say. I’m not sure how long I’ll live there, to be honest. There’s nothing for me there other than school.
We move on to the girl next to me—the blonde one, who introduces herself as Lillian—and I learn that she just finished her freshman year of college, is on the downhill ski team, and this is her first summer on staff.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to remember all of the facts people shared, but I’m doing pretty well with names as we wrap up. Drew, Lillian, Vivien, and Mary. Got it. They all seem like fun.
And so far, none of them turn out to be an obnoxious asshole named Miller.