5. Autumn
five
Autumn
“Good evening, campers!”
A myriad of conversations was broken by the booming voice that always kicked off our first campfire session. Sawyer was the loudest of our staff, which made them the perfect person to grab people’s attention.
A barrage of “Woo!”s filled the air, which only got louder as people caught on. The air was electric. Most campers expected something like this at a summer camp but didn’t get the general idea until they were able to feel it. It still gave me goosebumps, and I’d done this nearly a hundred times.
“Welcome to your first campfire at Camp Starlight,” Sawyer began.
“We’ll be hosting a campfire every night, with different itineraries—and that’s the last time you’ll hear the word itinerary out of my mouth,” they said to laughter.
“As many of you already know, drinks are being made at the bar.” They pointed, flight attendant style.
“As well as s’mores and other fixings down in front.
Feel free to grab a blanket and a seat and join us when you’re ready. ”
People started to get cozy, taking Sawyer up on the amenities we offered. We had a great system after five years, and we’d learned what people wanted and what comforted them. The fire was roaring, but blankets were still a must this late in the summer.
Seats surrounded the campfire and the stage in a crescent shape, beside which was an open bar containing every liquor imaginable, tended by our resident mixologists, Lola and Luis, who were arm to arm, each with a cocktail shaker in one hand.
I smiled at the couple, who’d been together for five years after Leo set them up in the early days of building Camp Starlight.
They’d joined Starlight three years ago, after Lola’s daughter graduated from college.
Lola owned a bar in town, Fireside, a local favorite that the occasional tourist stumbled into and appreciated for its rustic charm and the massive firepit it was named for, but they loved spending summers here while their daughter ran the bar.
Lola flipped her shaker in the air and poured it into four shot glasses to the pleasure of Luis, who looked at her as though she always surprised him.
I’d once asked Lola how they made it work with so many plates in the air, and she’d brushed it off, saying they just loved being together under the stars.
They were relationship goals, the happiest couple I’d ever seen, and a reminder that I’d never been with someone I’d want to come home to, let alone someone I would work with. Not in my adult life, anyway.
No drink tickets or wristbands were needed to get a little happy, but we tried our best not to overserve. Campers were in the safety of our wilderness, and thankfully, we kept alcohol-induced injuries to a minimum.
I scanned the crowd of campers to understand the vibe better.
As always, a few people looked uncomfortable and tried not to show it, but this was the bounciest group I’d seen all summer, which filled me with joy over the likelihood that we’d have a great session.
My pod was clustered together and seemed the quietest. That would soon change.
The hesitant ones almost always came around, especially after the next item on the docket.
“Now, it wouldn’t be opening night if we didn’t participate in a little camp tradition: embarrassing our staff.
” People cheered as Sawyer called us to the stage.
Hazel, Azalea, Leo, Lamar, and I all took seats.
“They’re willing to answer almost any question you may have, so we’re passing around pens, slips of paper, and our fabulous fedora for you to place questions in. Please, keep things appropriate.”
Jack booed jokingly, but he was ignored.
“So, no questions about sex or politics. Anything else goes. If they don’t want to answer, they drink.” Sawyer looked a little too excited by the prospect.
I loved this game because it showed not only parts of us but parts of the audience and the way their weird minds worked. We always got some interesting questions smattered with the usual suspects: “Most embarrassing moment” and “Have you ever done anything illegal?”
The fedora moved from hand to hand, and they began working fast enough to tell me that this was going to be entertaining.
A woman from Nat’s cabin whispered something to someone from my cabin, and they looked like little schoolgirls with a secret.
This place had its way of taking you back to the good days before obligations, back when we were free to have fun without the constant stress and anxiety of consequences that would affect our lives for the worse.
It was also why we asked people not to have phones out.
Each staff member held a red solo cup. Except for Lamar, we all had an alcoholic beverage in hand, prepared to take a drink if we turned down a question.
Lamar “My Body Is a Temple” Jones had a sparkling water he chugged instead of liquor.
I held my alcoholic Capri Sun, a concoction made from scratch by Lola.
It was my go-to beverage after her most famous cocktail, a s’mores-inspired beverage with marshmallow fluff and a graham cracker rim.
“Some of these are sweet,” Sawyer exclaimed as they rifled through the fedora. “Let’s start with an easy one. What’s your favorite part of camp?”
Some “Aww”s were supplied by counselors and campers alike, but in a mostly snarky manner because most of us were self-proclaimed assholes by the time we hit thirty.
We answered in non-sarcastic tones because the question was more of a kindness to us all.
My friends responded with things like bingo night, and the talent show, but Azalea answered with skinny-dipping before I could.
I stayed in the safe zone by telling everyone about my love of jet skiing instead.
Sawyer pulled out a new slip of paper. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve done while drunk?” Our emcee chuckled. “First things first: are there any cops in the audience?” After ten seconds of literal cricket sounds, Sawyer clapped their hands once. “Okay, Hazel, you’re up.”
Hazel gave Leo a knowing look. “One summer, Leo and I broke into a miniature golf course and played moonlight golf.”
I imagined the two of them falling over themselves as they tried to get golf balls past a windmill and smiled.
Lamar supplied us with his contribution. “Back in college, I bought five hundred dollars worth of Surge soda.” He raised an eyebrow as we all laughed at that admission. “What? It was discontinued.”
When it came time for me to give away my secret, I dove right in. “I replaced all the Wildwood city council member photos at city hall with images of Nick Cage.”
A shocked Leo gasped. “That was you?”
“Me and Hazel.” I shrugged unapologetically. Apparently, there were secrets between the two of them. I addressed the crowd. “One of them kicked me out of a town meeting for wearing red on a Wednesday and threatened to have me arrested because of some pointless law. They thought it was hilarious.”
Leo beamed at his best friend. “Common denominator: Hazel Matthews.”
“You don’t know everything about me,” she challenged, without explanation.
Sawyer moved on. “Silliest injury you’ve ever received.”
We found a winner in camp darling Azalea, who started by telling us that she would need a minute because she’d done a ton of dumb shit and ended with us learning she’d broken her arm crafting a DeLorean-themed human flying machine meant for Flugtag—a Red Bull tournament where she and her friends built a vehicle to see how far it flew off a platform into the Willamette River.
She also took part in said extravaganza anyway and had to get her arm recast. “And I’d do it again,” she said to laughter.
I had no idea our head chef was so bold and slightly foolish, but you learn something new every day.
“Oooh, this is a great one,” Sawyer said, announcing the next topic. “Your secret shame.”
Campers were loosened up, and almost in unison came an “Oooooh!” like they were ready to get the tea.
Hazel admitted she had seen Twilight in theaters twenty times, Leo cringed as he told us he didn’t know how to read analog clocks, and then it came time for me to go.
“I’m deathly afraid of bunnies. And no, I’m not joking.” Dozens of jackass laughs resounded. “Have you seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail ?”
The laughter didn’t stop there. This happened every time I revealed this truth to someone, which was, thankfully, not outside the safe space of campfire games.
“Don’t even bring up Donnie Darko ,” Leo said through tears.
I blew my bangs out of my face. “Um, you just did,” I said, half-joking, half-murderous rage. I wished more than anything that it wasn’t true, but that was the whole point of secret shame .
“On that note, we’re going to change gears,” a serious Leo said to a collective groan. We knew these buzzwords were used in workplaces across the country, and we liked to lean into it on the first night. “I’m just kidding, kids. You aren’t at work, you’re at—”
“Camp!” numerous people shouted.
Leo chuckled. “I meant to say, for the next activity we’re going to do a little singing. Can I get everyone to stomp-stomp clap, stomp-stomp clap?”
The crowd stomp-stomp clapped and repeated the sound as the beat to the song and all the counselors shouted the lyrics to Queen’s “We Will Rock You” with cupped hands. People started to pick up on it. A collective excitement bounced off the trees as campers joined in.
Our campfire songs were top forty hits from the past fifty years, so it included everything from yacht rock to boyband hits, which the crowd got into.
This part always took people by surprise, no matter what song we sang.
Many campers had never been to camp and didn’t expect to know any songs.
We did fast renditions of favorites, while everyone had drinks in hand and ate s’mores.
It didn’t feel forced at all, which was something I loved.
Jack was missing from the singing. That was pretty strange because this was the part of our first campfire he looked forward to the most, but I found him cuddling behind us with an amazingly gorgeous redhead, recognizing her as his girlfriend, Gia.
I knew she’d be coming up here, but I assumed we’d see her later.
I waved at her, and she smiled and waved back.
I made myself a s’more as we launched into a rendition of Abba’s “Dancing Queen” and looked into the faces of our camp group behind the fire.
Camp made me feel everything. Absolute joy, gut-punching laughter, tear-inducing sadness.
It was a range of emotions I hadn’t experienced during years of growing up in a family where displaying your emotions was frowned upon, and I leaned into my feelings every time.
I didn’t know how long I’d keep working at Camp Starlight, but I was all about living in the moment, and I wasn’t about to squander this one.