by Tara Ellis
Linking arms with her, Ally pulls Sam a little closer in the swarm of girls, so that they won’t be separated.
Sam isn’t sure what she had expected, but this isn’t how she had envisioned camp. That is, certainly not anything this big or organized. Her sole camp experience, aside from family outings, was a youth group retreat with her church a year ago. That had involved twenty kids and five big tents, and took place over the course of three days at a local state campground. This current scene resembles a kind of boot camp. As if to solidify that impression, a loud whistle pierces the air, making both girls jump.
“If you haven’t signed in yet, please do so now!”
Searching for the source of the young, friendly voice, Sam finally spots a girl standing on the steps above them. She looks to be eighteen or nineteen years old. However, her long brown hair is in braids and she’s wearing a Camp Whispering Pines T-shirt, making her appear younger. The freckles dotting her face, combined with her huge smile, cause Sam to relax a little bit.
Organized doesn’t mean that it won’t be fun! She tells herself.
“Don’t worry,” Aunt Cathy reassures them. “The first day is always a little hectic, but the girls love this camp. It’s been in operation for over twenty years and is the best in the state!” Cathy’s arms spread out as if she’s herding chickens. She moves their group forward as one until they reach the tables.
The sign-in process is surprisingly quick and simple. After their names are checked off a list, they are each given a black camp T-shirt with the initials ‘CWP’ on the back, and then directed to gather on the steps.
After Cathy says her good-byes, Ally’s cousins and friends go to sit with their own age group, leaving Sam and Ally alone at the top of the stairs. They’re more like bleachers really…that’s how big they are, although made of wood instead of aluminum.
Ally stares down at the heads of several dozen girls sitting below them, varying in age from around ten to fourteen. Clasping the camp shirt tightly in her lap, she leans back against her sleeping bag, trying to blend in. Ally’s never been shy, but this is a pretty big group of strangers. She might not feel quite so isolated if they weren’t required to leave their cell phones at home. It is a camp rule. They hadn’t worked while they were at Sam’s aunt and uncle’s earlier this summer, so she’s already used to not having a phone all the time, but…well, she has to admit to maybe having a little twinge of homesickness. It would be nice to at least have the option of calling home if she wanted to.
Seeing the tense expression on her friend’s normally happy face, Sam puts an arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. “It’ll calm down and be better once we get assigned to our cabin!”
“I hope so,” Ally counters. “But what if we don’t end up in the same cabin?” Her eyes widen. “I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens!”
Before Sam has a chance to respond, several whistles blow. Although alarming, it has the desired effect of silencing all the girls, and for that, Sam is thankful. Their attention now drawn to the counselors standing at the base of the stairs, she squirms on the edge of the step, impatient to officially start their next quest.
“Hello, everybody!” the same braid-wielding girl calls out, holding her hands out in a sweeping gesture. “Welcome to Camp Whispering Pines, where the fun never ends!” This must be some sort of prompt, because a large portion of the group suddenly starts singing!
Surprised, Sam and Ally first look at each other in confusion, but are then quickly caught up in the cheerful atmosphere and smile at the singing campers around them. It’s a light-hearted song about campfires, hiking, and friendship. Sam finds herself tapping along with the tempo, and by the third time they sing the chorus, she joins in:
“…at night, ‘round the campfire, we laugh and we sing.
We’re here at Camp Whispering Pines, where everything is green. So come on and join us, for the time of your life. We’ll hike, and ride and swim and sing all night…that’s right!”
It’s a silly little tune, but Sam and Ally find themselves standing with the crowd and linking arms. By the time they reach the end, they’re all swaying to the words.
So this is what summer camp is all about!
Smiling broadly now, their initial fears at ease, they settle back down at the leader’s prompting. It only takes one short burst of the whistle to regain control.
“My name is Butterfingers,” she says, introducing herself. When this is followed by giggles, the teen takes it in stride and explains. “I’m one of the camp counselors and cabin leaders. We’ve all been given nicknames to make it fun.” The teen gestures to the other counselors gathered behind her as she continues. “And so that it’s easier for you to remember who we are. I’m a bit of a klutz and drop things all the time.” Smirking at her own expense, Butterfingers turns to an older woman standing beside her. “This is our camp director, Ms. Cooper.”
Sam can’t help but notice that Ms. Cooper doesn’t have a nickname. She doesn’t look like someone who would allow one. Although wearing walking shorts, her camp shirt has been replaced with a more formal, buttoned polo with the delicate lettering ‘CWP’ stitched over the breast pocket. Her dark hair is pulled back into a proper, tight bun at the nape of her neck. It’s hard to tell just how old she is. Sam figures she’s around her mom’s age. She suspects the lack of lines in the camp director’s face may be due to a shortage of laughter, rather than years.
“Camp Whispering Pines has been in operation for twenty-four years,” Ms. Cooper announces sharply, her words loud and crisp. “We expect you all to uphold our long-standing tradition of proper and responsible behavior. I hope you all enjoy your stay,” she adds, somewhat unenthusiastically. Taking a step back, Ms. Cooper makes it clear that she is done speaking. Well…at least she’s a women of few words, Sam thinks.
“Okay, then!” Butterfingers shouts, rubbing her hands together. “Here we go. When I call out your name, please remain seated until I’m finished and then go to your assigned counselor.”
Sam and Ally sit anxiously, listening to the third and fourth grade cabin assignments, then the fifth and sixth. By the time Butterfingers reaches the seventh grade cabins, the two girls are tense with the fear of being split up for the upcoming week.
“At this grade level, we group you together based on age,” she explains. “This year, we have a larger group of twelve-year-olds, so we’re putting them in the three upper-level cabins, and giving the thirteen and fourteen year-olds the teepees.”
There’s a chorus of cheers from the older girls and it’s obvious to Sam that the teepees must be the most cherished accommodations. It doesn’t make any difference to her where they sleep, as long as she and Ally are in the same cabin!
Finally, Butterfinger calls out her name as the first occupant of the third cabin. “In cabin Navaho, we have Samantha Wolf, Sandy Hollingsworth, Becky Johnson, Lexie Mills and…Allison Parker. And I will be your leader!”
At the sound of Ally’s name, Sam hugs her friend tight. Both girls are so relieved to be together that they don’t even cringe at the use of their formal names.
It’s not long before rest of the list is finished. A mad rush of feet trampling down stairs begins as the campers all run to their new groups. The leaders hold up small flags with their crew names, but a few stragglers get confused, mostly younger kids.
After a brief moment of chaos, things settle down again. Sam eventually ends up standing next to Ally and three other girls, their bags and pillows piled around them.
“Cabin Navaho!” Butterfingers shouts cheerfully. “Follow me!” Without another word, she spins on her heel and heads for a dirt trail, leading up into the thick woods.
Excitement welling inside her, Sam and Ally gather their things and scurry to catch up, convinced that a new, thrilling adventure awaits them.
4
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
After trekking uphill through the woods for several minutes in silence, concentrati
ng on their footing, the campers break through into an open area trampled clean by years of use.
Butterfingers stops in front of the first cabin they encounter off to the right, the nameplate ‘Navaho’ clearly visible over the screened door. “This is home for the next week!” she says, holding the entrance open for them.
Sam looks fondly at a pair of chipmunks scampering into the woods, chattering as they go. She can just make out the outline of two neighboring cabins through the trees to either side. Her attention’s drawn back to their own housing by the banter of the other girls picking out beds inside. Sam practically bounces up the two wooden steps and into the small structure.
“Sam!” Ally calls from a bunk bed in the far right corner. The walls are lined with them, one to a side, except for the front wall that accommodates the doorway and one full-sized bed and small dresser for the counselor.
Ally has chosen the bed farthest from Butterfingers, next to a window without any glass in it. In fact...none of the three windows have glass and there is a large gap where the top of the walls meet the exposed roof. No wonder they were advised to bring warm sleeping bags!
“I’ll take the top!” Sam calls out joyfully, tossing her pillow up. Knowing that Ally always prefers a bottom bunk, she doesn’t wait for confirmation. Pausing to look around the room, Sam sees that the other girls are having a bit of an issue, debating who will get the one bed that’s left over.
“I have to sleep on the bottom, but I can’t stand to have anyone sleeping above me!” Crossing her arms stubbornly, a feisty young girl flips her long blonde hair out of her eyes and squares off with her apparent adversary. Sam struggles to remember her name…something like Sandra.
“Why should you get to choose who gets their own bunk?” the other girl counters, but with much less attitude. Sam remembers her name is Lexie, because it’s so unusual. She has close-cropped, black hair that goes well with her light complexion and spattering of freckles. She looks like someone who can handle herself, and Sam immediately likes her.
The last camper involved in the conflict is quietly sitting on the thin bottom mattress across from them. Hands folded in her lap, she is looking at the floor, her chestnut colored hair hanging down so that her face is obscured.
“Now Lexie,” Butterfingers chides, having decided to intervene. “Do you really even care? If I remember correctly, you had your own bed just earlier this summer at the last camp session.”
As Lexie turns to answer the counselor, Sam reflects on the comment. Lexie was at one of the earlier camps? How many times can someone go to camp in a summer? It would be fun to go more than once!
Blowing air out loudly between her lips, Lexie shrugs dramatically. “Naw…I don’t mind where I sleep. I just don’t think anyone should be so pushy, is all. How about you, Becky?” she continues, turning to the silent girl. “Do you care if you have your own bed?”
Shaking her head, Becky finally looks up at them all, eyes widening at the realization that she’s now the center of attention. “I don’t mind,” she says, her voice stronger than Sam would have imagined. “But I’d like to sleep on the bottom…if that’s okay,” she rushes to add, her bravery seeming to waver.
Laughing, Lexie tosses her heavy backpack on top of the bunk that’s kitty-corner to Sam. “That’s settled then! You get your own pad, Princess.”
“My name is Sandy!” she corrects, somewhat smugly. Obviously pleased with the arrangements, Sandy goes about carefully arranging her belongings, spreading them out on both the upper and lower beds of the last remaining spot, nearest Butterfingers.
“There you go, Becky,” Lexie encourages. “Get comfy! I don’t usually bite, but I might talk in my sleep.” Smiling now, Becky unrolls her sleeping bag and seems to relax.
“Sandy isn’t very nice,” Ally whispers to Sam. The two of them are seated on the top of their rustic framed bed, made from real logs. Legs swinging over the side, they have a great view of the situation.
“Maybe she just doesn’t do well with being away from home,” Sam murmurs back.
Not wanting to label anyone in the first hour that they’re there, Sam decides to try to talk to her. Leaping down with a much louder thud than she intended, Sam blushes slightly but quickly covers it with a grin. “Hi!” she says to everyone, now that she has their attention. “My name is Sam, and this is my best friend, Ally. It’s our first time at camp.” She barely turns back from waving towards Ally, when Lexie grabs her outstretched hand and shakes it enthusiastically.
“Good to meet you! I’ve been to every camp session here for the past two summers, so if you have any questions about anything, I can help you.”
Her first impression further solidified, Sam nods at her new friend. “Wow!” she tells the slightly shorter, sturdy girl. “That must be so much fun. I wish my parents would let me do that.” Pulling her hand back and shaking it slightly to get the circulation back into it, Sam notices the smile falter on Lexie’s face.
“Yeah, well…that’s not an issue for me.” Without any further explanation, Lexie goes back to her bag and starts digging around in it.
“How about you, Sandy?” Sam asks, doing her best to sound friendly. “Have you been to camp before?”
Staring back at her through slightly narrowed eyes, Sandy folds her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture. “No, and I wouldn’t be here if my mother wasn’t forcing me.”
Although rather short with a slight, frail build, Sandy is clearly someone who normally gets what she wants and isn’t intimidated easily. She kind of reminds Sam of a Chihuahua - small, but fierce.
Turning away from Sandy’s critical gaze, Sam widens her eyes at Ally in an “Oh my gosh” expression, before focusing on Becky, who is now spread out on top of her sleeping bag, a book to her nose.
“What are you reading?” Sam asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Slowly lowering the paperback, Becky looks back at her cautiously. “It’s a mystery,” she finally answers.
“Oh! I love mysteries,” Sam tells her, turning her head so that she can read the title. It isn’t one she’s read before, but it looks interesting. “Can I read it when you’re done?”
Deciding that Sam’s interest is genuine, Becky pushes up to sit beside her and hands the book to her. “Sure, I should finish it in a day or two. Want to read the back?”
Happy to have found a mutual interest, Sam takes it and quickly reads the description. “It sounds a little spooky. I hope it doesn’t keep us up at night!”
Grinning now, Becky places the book under her pillow. She’s roughly the same size as Sam, but a little thinner. Her skin has a paleness to it that suggests she doesn’t get out in the sun often enough. Sam instinctively feels protective towards the gentle, shy girl.
“We’re all going to need these!” Lexie interrupts, having found what she was looking for in her backpack. “The swim test is after lunch.” She waves her swimsuit around in the air.
“I can’t swim right after I eat,” Sandy complains. “I’ll get a cramp.”
“You’ll be fine,” Butterfingers assures her, having just finished putting all of her stuff away in the only dresser. “We’ll have time to come back to the cabin and get changed first. It will be a good hour before you’re in the water.”
Her fists clenching at the bedding, Becky gazes at Sam, panic-stricken. “I can’t swim!” she whimpers, looking to Butterfingers for guidance.
“Oh…” Pausing, their leader chews on her bottom lip. “That’s okay, Becky. It just means you can’t swim during free time, but you can still go during open swim, which is twice during the week that you’re here.”
Hanging her head in embarrassment, Becky nods her understanding.
“I can teach you!”
Looking up at Sam’s announcement, Becky’s brows furrow. “How?” she asks.
“When is the first open swim?” Sam asks Butterfingers.
“Tomorrow. But it’s only for three hours.”
�
�Heck, I can teach anyone how to swim well enough to cross the deep end once, in just two hours!” Lexie says encouragingly. “It really isn’t that hard, Becky. We’ll help you,” she adds, sitting down next to the two of them.
Her spirits lifted, Becky looks back and forth between Sam and Lexie. “Okay!” she finally agrees, and they all smile warmly at each other.
“Humph!” Sandy snorts. “Swimming in public pools is gross, anyways. Do you know how dirty they are?”
“Aren’t you signed up for the creek walk in two days?” Butterfingers counters. Sandy stares at her boldly, bottom lip set. “If you want to participate in that,” she explains, “then you’re going to have to get wet. Passing the swim test is a requirement for it.”
Her skepticism silenced, Sandy flips her hair defiantly before taking her swimsuit out.
“We need to get going,” Butterfingers mutters, looking at her watch. “Lunch is in ten minutes. Put your camp T-shirts on first, though.”
A few minutes later, the five new cabin-mates emerge from Navaho and head back down the dirt trail. Sam and Ally linger at the back of the group, discussing their upcoming week’s activities.
Turning towards Ally, who is walking beside her, Sam’s distracted by a flash of light alongside the trail. Intrigued, she steps sideways and then onto the soft pine needles, to take a closer look. After a brief investigation, she locates a metallic plaque, attached to the trunk of an ancient-looking cedar tree, several feet into the woods. The flash she saw was the sun reflecting off it.
“What did you find?” Ally comes to stand alongside Sam, where she is crouched next to the tree.
“I’m not sure,” Sam replies. “It says: In remembrance of our beloved benefactor, Mr. Harold Pine. May his legacy live on in Camp Whispering Pines. 2010”
