Camp Enemies (Camp Starlight #2)

1. Jack

ONE

Jack

My best friend had a slideshow.

And one of those little laser pointer clicker things.

I didn’t even know we had a projector, let alone a movie screen, but this place was full of surprises.

Autumn sat off to the side as our boss, Hazel, went over our summer preparation meeting for the start of the season at Camp Starlight—a summer camp for adults.

The resort I worked at was a popular travel destination on Mount Hood, in Wildwood, Oregon. A hideaway that emphasized the nostalgia of childhood summers under the stars, while giving it an adult spin, of course.

Hazel pointed at the slideshow behind her. “The updated menu will be more farm-forward and feature…”

As a permanent staffer, I knew most of this already, but man, why was I zoning out?

Maybe it was because I knew this place like the back of my hand. After all, I’d been working here since its inception six years ago. And that wasn’t even counting the months it’d taken to get it up and running.

I loved the beginning of the summer. It meant I got to see old friends returning from off-season excursions and jobs, meet people who were new to the team, and catch up with friends I’d missed for months.

Our kickoff meeting was the best way to inform those staff members about any changes to the camp that Hazel, Leo, Autumn, and I had worked our asses off to bring to fruition.

Still, the only thing keeping me present was Autumn and that damn clicker.

“Jack, please take a bow.”

I rolled my eyes at Hazel, who apparently wanted a literal bow in front of my coworkers. Okay, I might as well lean into it.

I stood, bent over dramatically, and shook my ass so that my coworkers had a full view of the goods. It wasn’t all for naught because Lamar whistled, causing me to wince. That sound could probably be heard in space.

“The staff reviews are in, and we’ve heard nothing but good things about the new pod.

” Hazel was referring to the clusters of cabins spread throughout the camp that I’d built.

Each pod consisted of a counselor cabin and five guest cabins that could host up to two campers.

Each counselor served as a fun coordinator of sorts as well as someone campers could turn to if they had any issues, from first aid to room needs.

“I’m sure you’ve stopped by to check out Lynx, but if not, take the time.

It’s beautiful. I’d be remiss not to mention the hours of labor, several near misses with a pneumatic air nailer”—she looked to Leo, whose help was instrumental everywhere around camp except for when it involved power tools.

He’d been banned after nearly harming himself—“and how many two-by-fours did we use?”

Hazel was known for her sarcastic humor, her deadpan wit, and her ability to put people on the spot.

“Nine hundred sixty-seven,” I answered without hesitation. I didn’t have a clue how many had been used. Actually, that number felt a little off.

She tilted her head at me, obviously surprised that I had a number at all. “Let’s thank him for the painstaking labor and the fact that we have a new pod for our campers.”

Cheers rose from my camp family, and I let them wash over me.

I wore many hats at Camp Starlight, but my primary roles in the off-season were head of maintenance and construction foreman.

It’d taken me a little under a year to build the six cabins, so I knew to take credit where credit was due.

I did have a team, which I tried to explain for the umpteenth time, but they ignored me.

Someone behind me patted me on the back.

“Speaking of Lynx, let’s give a Starlight welcome to Chase, our new counselor who will be taking residence on the north side of camp.”

The Montana transplant lifted the cowboy hat sitting in front of him on the table and waved it to us in hello. “I’m happy to be here. Thank you so much for hiring me, Hazel. I love what you’ve built here.”

Hazel’s cheeks reddened at the attention.

I had already met Chase when he arrived, and his approachability and down-to-earth smile, not to mention the short, curly blonde hair and that charming laugh, already had the majority of us swooning. Was there a halo over his head?

I might have been the only one who noticed the flash of annoyance that took over Leo’s face before he interjected, all smiles once more, “Chase is a former rancher. Apparently, that’s a real job, even outside of romance novels. And he will also be our liaison with Foxglove Horse Camp next door.”

We had an agreement with the equestrian camp we shared a border with. We had the whole camp for one full day each camp session, so that our attendees could ride trails and spend time with nature’s walking monstrosities. I had nothing to do with it. I had feelings about this.

Leo pushed back his messy brown hair, which we all knew was a pointless task, before giving up. “Another new addition to our amazing counselors is Emerson Delgado, who many of you may recognize as a guest from last year.”

“I’m so excited to be back,” Emerson said happily, her pink-tinted retro curls bouncing. “There’s no place like Camp Starlight.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lamar agreed. We hadn’t thought he’d be returning after he signed up with a wilderness excursion company, but we’d been delightfully surprised when he asked to come back.

Hazel and Leo both looked proud, as they should be. We called them camp mom and camp dad, regardless of our ages. They were the creators of the camp and had every right to be praised.

Leo continued. “While we’re discussing staff, it’s important that we announce that this will be Bobby’s final summer with us.”

Everyone turned to the seventy-year-old sous-chef with sad glances and smiles.

His boss, Azalea, squeezed his shoulder. “Bobby has been with us from the start, and we plan to make this his best summer ever.”

Several woos echoed off the dining hall walls, and Felicia patted Bobby’s shoulder as he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Hazel quickly put us back on track, probably for Bobby’s sake, but possibly for her own.

She didn’t like to show vulnerability, especially in public.

She’d been like this since I’d known her, back in high school when we became friends.

She’d been a freshman when I was a sophomore, and we’d bonded over punk music and our distaste for discussing our family drama, which I later learned was rather dire for her.

I often regretted not pushing her to discuss it more back then.

“Now, I’ll pass the baton to Autumn,” Hazel said to eager applause. We all knew what was coming from our newly appointed assistant director: an update on the shipping board.

“Quiet down, people. Quiet down,” Autumn declared to the crowd of camp counselors, owners, chefs, and bartenders.

“I have an important announcement, and I don’t want to repeat myself.

” She took a deep breath, clutching her fingers as though she were about to deliver a death sentence to our staff, before starting her slide show.

An image of a dry-erase board with staff names and rankings took over the screen.

“This year, we aren’t doing the shipping board. ”

A giant red X animated over the image.

Okay, apparently, it was a death sentence.

There were literal gasps and shouts of disagreement all around. People were shocked and dismayed. I may have seen tears.

“What’s the shipping board?” Emerson asked.

That shut everyone up for a minute. We kept this game from our campers because it was our way of blowing off steam, making each of them contestants in a dating-style game and betting on the results.

“The shipping board has been around for four years,” Leo said pointedly of the unofficial competition that Autumn ran in her free time. “It’s a time-honored tradition. People use camper profiles to pair them together—”

“And then maybe try to push them in the right direction,” Felicia, our resident horndog, added.

Sometimes it worked, and the person betting on the couple won a few bucks.

Most of the time, nothing happened at all.

Last year, the winner had been Leo by a landslide.

It was the same every year. Leo also won an honorable mention by guessing that Autumn and her now-boyfriend Jamie would get together.

Camp Starlight was a place to get away from the monotony of real life, a respite from the mundanity of cubicles and familial obligations.

The majority of campers were just there for a good time in the open air.

But there were always hookups, which went hand in hand with rumors and conjecture.

Our camp made it easy to spread the gossip since it was so small, and the staff was a huge part of that.

That didn’t mean our lives were spared from the grapevine, as Autumn had learned firsthand last session.

“Holy shit, y’all are diabolical.” Emerson’s gleeful smile put us at ease. “I want to play.”

“When everyone decides to let me speak,” my friend said with the tact of a middle school librarian, “I’ll explain.”

There were more groans and a cluster of angry words shouted. Someone even threw a rolled-up piece of paper at her, which she ducked from with catlike grace before it hit the projector screen. If she didn’t get it together quickly, this was going to turn into an angry mob.

“We’re going to be doing something else,” she said, raising her voice over the din and hitting next on her slides. A list appeared, and she pointed the laser at the screen. “Because the shipping board caused more harm than good.”

“Tell that to the people who got together!” shouted Sawyer, our resident yoga expert and the loudest person in this place.

“We have no idea if the people who got together ended up in lasting relationships,” Autumn said. “But my guess is they were mostly hookups. And we are not running a bordello—”

A bordello? Really?