4. Jamie
four
Jamie
Following the crowd, Ren and I approached what had been lovingly referred to by Lamar as the mess hall.
The massive log-framed lodge was idyllic, nestled between the main office and the craft cabin.
It was the center of camp activities. There was a wraparound porch with padded high-back chairs and side tables facing the lake.
The perfect place to unwind with a drink and a view.
I let the wonder sink in. It truly was beautiful in the middle of nowhere.
Nothing about the warmth inside should have surprised me, and yet there was nothing messy about this hall.
The first thing that caught my eye was the focal point of the room, a striking river rock stone fireplace.
Bucolic wagon wheel chandeliers draped from the open rafters, and a raised stage took up the right side of the room.
Sidled in the corner next to the kitchen was a reclaimed wood bar.
Six rustic tables offset each other, filling out the middle of the room facing the stage.
Each one was set with sage-green placemats, soft lighting, and centerpieces with each pod name atop them.
Directly across from us was a classic buffet.
My mouth watered. Dill-covered salmon cucumber bites, wild mushroom risotto, whipped ricotta crostini, and prime rib were all calling my name.
This place pulled out all the stops. The spread looked like it belonged at a food and wine festival, and the drinks were just as sophisticated.
I twirled the charred sprig of rosemary into the best whiskey sour I’d ever had.
It had been smoked and tasted like a delicious campfire.
Conversation at our table flowed easily as Ren returned from the buffet with heaping plates, eager to get to know our podmates further.
Ren took the seat next to Grant. When their elbows bumped, they both turned to each other, then immediately looked away sheepishly.
Everyone came from different backgrounds, different financial statuses.
It made me wonder how much it cost to go here.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker. Lookin’ good, red.” Hazel made a show of lowering her sunglasses at our new friend.
Gia launched up out of her seat to be wrapped up in a big hug by the camp owner, who was no longer in her flight instructor suit. Now she was wearing black jeans and a simple tank top.
“It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve seen you.” She turned toward the rest of our table. “Gia is the foremost veterinarian on the West Coast.”
“No, I am not.” Gia playfully smacked Hazel’s arm.
Gia intrigued me. She hadn’t given us much information just yet. It was mostly superficial details about her life. I wanted to ask her more, but she continued talking with Hazel, their rapport cute in its own way.
“How did you become a counselor here?” Emerson asked Lamar upon Hazel’s departure. We were all enthralled by this place, and a huge part of the puzzle of Camp Starlight was the people running it.
“Well, before this, I was a skydiving instructor, but I get frequent ear infections, which made the pain from jumping from high altitudes unbearable. So, as much as I loved jumping out of planes, I also like to enjoy the simple things, like hearing, so I did the responsible thing and took a step back.” He chuckled.
“I found this place through word of mouth, actually. My scuba diving friend went to camp the year prior and hooked me up with the owners. They had an opening, and just like most things in my life, the stars aligned. Get it? Stars? Starlight?”
Gradually, the room got quieter. Most people had a lifted hand with what looked like a shadow puppet-style dog.
I put my two middle fingers to my thumb with my pinky and pointer fingers up in the air and raised my hand to do what everyone else did.
Everyone caught on to quiet coyote, and suddenly, I was back in elementary school, in Mr. Knudsen’s class as Charlie Alcott elbowed me till I was quiet.
I’d always been the last one to catch on.
Not this time. Ren was still talking beside me, and I elbowed him in the ribs till he got the memo and put his fingers up in the air.
“What’s this for?” Ren asked, looking around the room.
“You never did quiet coyote in school?” I asked. Ren shook his head but complied.
Hazel waited for everyone to quiet down another moment before she spoke, effortlessly chill.
“Welcome to Camp Starlight!” The group of us cheered, some clapping the tables loudly.
She introduced herself as Hazel Matthews, owner.
“I’m looking for my assistant, Leo Lovejoy.
” She lifted her hand to her brow, scoping out the crowd.
Leo joined her on the stage. “I think you mean co-owner and camp dad.” He gave a charismatic wink. He exuded an excitement I usually reserved for Ren. He was genuine and had the right levity when meeting her at center stage.
“No one is calling you that. Don’t call him that,” she said to laughs from the crowd.
“All righty, folks, let’s get things started.
To begin with, we like to introduce you to our staff, who you’ll be interacting with all week.
Let’s give it up to our chefs, Azalea and Bobby, and our culinary student, Sebastian, for this lovely dining experience. ”
“Thank you for making me gain fifteen pounds this summer,” Leo chimed in as the three of them joined him and Hazel on stage. Each took a small bow and gave hearty waves.
We cheered, and Hazel looked toward stage right. “Our bartenders, Luis and Lola, have been creating something special for all of you. Remember, it’s an open bar, but if Lola has to carry you back to your cabin—”
Hazel cut in as an image appeared behind them on the projector screen.
“You’ll be cut off, and your face will be drawn on.
” Her smile brightened at Leo, while her eyes held pure wickedness.
He scoffed, feigning annoyance at the sight of him passed out on a chair with his mouth open and a fake mustache gracing his upper lip.
Luis pointed at Lola. “I told her not to do that.”
Lola shrugged. “I also told him he’d had three too many appletinis.”
Leo stepped in front of her, speaking quickly before she could continue. “And that’s our onsite staff. Before we get to our counselors, we wanted to do a little housekeeping.”
The staff exited the stage, and Hazel continued.
“The cameras on your tables and in your cabins are yours to create memories with. But be warned, they will be viewed and displayed on our projector screen.” She looked to Leo, who cringed.
“Parents will be contacted if we find any inappropriate photos,” she deadpanned. Our emcee held for laughter yet again.
“We’ll have some get-to-know-you games and competitions.
You’ve probably seen the activities list and have noticed that we like to focus on wellness and relaxation, as well as crafts and hobbies.
Our schedule is meant for your enjoyment, not your obligation, so feel free to go to activities or spend all day introverting in the Meditation Meadow and knock out that Tbr pile.
We host sunrise yoga every day and meals and activities will start at the same time each day as well.
Every night, we have a campfire, and we do different activities each night of the week.
Tonight will be a meet and greet, and tomorrow is karaoke night.
All of this is printed in your welcome binders.
For now, set your focus on our incredible staff as we kick off our get-to-know-you game. ’”
Leo jumped in on cue to applause. “Thanks, emcee Hazel. Now let’s welcome our counselors to the stage one at a time to play two truths and a lie.” More cheers and some oohs followed. “The counselors will share correct answers before we move on to the bonfire for stories and s’mores.”
“First up, they’re small but mighty. Our resident yoga guru and popcorn gremlin, camp counselor Sawyer!
” Hazel was right. Sawyer had big curls and a small frame.
Their animated smile and complimenting wave to the group lit up their entire face as they took center stage.
Sawyer didn’t take the microphone. Their voice carried out to all of us, even our table in the back.
“Hi, everyone.”
“Hi, Sawyer,” we responded.
“I’m Sawyer. My pod is Cygnus. I use they/them pronouns. And my truths are… I love deviled eggs, I hate ice cubes in my drinks, and I can juggle knives.” They said each statement with no tone to give it away.
We debated each declaration. The knife juggling stood out as outrageous, so it was most likely true.
And all I could see was this fierce person juggling with knives reflected in their eyes, laughing maniacally.
I gulped back a little trepidation at that image.
We talked and decided that they probably hated eggs, deviled eggs to be precise.
Thanks to our deductive prowess, we were one of the only tables to get it right. I noticed Lamar wasn’t with us anymore, then there he was, like magic.
We learned that Delphinus pod’s counselor Felicia was a former travel agent who was one of ten children and was allergic to strawberries.
“Next up, Lamar from the Orion pod,” Hazel announced.
Lamar took the stage, taking the microphone from her. “I’ve been on a thousand hikes, I’ve auditioned for the Great American Baking Show , and I had a small role in the soap opera Days of Our Lives twice.”
“I knew I recognized him.” Emerson’s eyes were wide with victory as she swore that the last statement was true. Lamar’s hiker boots gave him away, so we decided our counselor had probably not auditioned for the Great American Baking Show. We were right and so was the table in front of us.
We were on a roll with our guesses, only missing Andromeda pod’s counselor, Nat, so far, not realizing that she had over a half million Instagram subscribers and that our camp dad had even been a follower before she joined Camp Starlight.
Jack stepped up next. Leo introduced him as the man who’d built our cabins with his blood, sweat, and tears—Starlight’s construction foreman—who was currently working on the newest pod addition, Lynx. And that was when I realized the pods were named after star systems.
Jack had shoulder-length dark blond hair that he pushed out of his face, making him look more like a model than a counselor and construction whiz.
The things that gave him away were his tanned skin, broad shoulders, and ripped biceps.
I was envious of his closely shaven, full beard, which still didn’t hide his sharply defined cheekbones.
He had an air of enthusiasm as he took the mic.
“Hi, I’m Jack, my pod is Corvus, and I use he/him pronouns. My truths are that I’ve seen ghosts my entire life, I’ve driven a monster truck, and I only get about four hours of sleep a night,” Jack said ebulliently, clearly liking being the center of attention.
We submitted our guesses, and he admitted to his lie.
“I have not seen a ghost my entire life,” he stage-whispered, “just the last two months since that camper died.”
Hazel and Leo both hurried to interrupt him with nervous laughter. “We don’t need to talk about that,” they said in tandem.
I caught several pairs of eyes with disbelieving looks. Jack waved at us and left the stage as Hazel introduced the next counselor.
“Our next counselor is one of our founding staff who built this place with Leo, Jack, and me five years ago. Our resident lumberjack—”
A laugh rang out, and before I learned her name, I knew exactly who it was.
Autumn Gardner, my first love and the woman who had haunted me for years.
Laughter seemed to come easily to her now, delightfully carefree, unrestrained.
My mind tried desperately to connect this freer version of her with the buttoned-up smart-as-a-whip girl that I knew in high school.
Just like that, I could see her back then, brushing windblown blonde hair away from her face.
My smile mirrored hers. I felt it as I looked up at her.
Grinning, getting ready to lie to me and tell me something real.
I was desperate for the information as memories of our past whooshed through me.
“You okay?” Ren whispered. He’d always been able to read me, but I went with the lie, anyway.
“Yeah, man.” I brushed him off, knowing he’d probably felt my tension as I hyper-focused on Autumn.
Her mannerisms and magnetism captivated me.
Her hair was still dirty blonde, but the bangs were new, and her golden locks were shorter.
It suited her. The happiness in her voice agreed with her most of all.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Autumn. I’m the counselor for pod Phoenix, and my pronouns are she/her.” She launched into her two truths and a lie. “I wrote a book of poems, one of which was about a pineapple, I wore a tuxedo to my senior prom, and I’ve won two ping pong competitions.”
I knew the answer immediately, and my heart sank. Then I focused on what I’d just learned. She had written poetry and played ping pong competitively. Interesting. She glowed under the attention, and the room fell even quieter as I whispered the lie to my teammate.
I knew Autumn hadn’t worn a tuxedo to her senior prom because I was the reason she didn’t go.