I thought about how limiting that was for children. Sure, it was raining that day, but there had to be some wonderful things to see outdoors, inspirations that went beyond wondering what you can craft up from a pair of scissors, construction paper, and dried pasta. Back home in Denver, I loved spending time outdoors and enjoying nature for everything it had to offer, in even the cold weather: the mountains, the rivers, the trees, the parks, most of all the early sunrise at Red Rocks, where I’d drive up with my coffee and sit there to watch the advance of that spear of light. Most times I’d missed the moment, lost in thoughts that the peace would often bring. I guess that was the point of my occasional early-morning getaways. For a moment, I thought about what these kids could get out of just sitting out in nature for a few moments and if they’d still find those beads and lanyards as captivating.
“Nature art,” I thought out loud, smiling at the image.
Sarah turned to me, startled that I was still in the room. “I’m sorry?”
“Nature art,” I repeated, with more exuberance. I caught myself and tried to lead her down the path I’d just gone on in my head. “If you don’t mind my asking, what does your arts and crafts class consist of?”
She stepped down from her stool to grab another handful of pages. She turned back to the board. “Oh, Molly Hanks has worked the arts-and-crafts program for the past two years. She’s fantastic, not just your regular paintbrush and glue-on-a-stick kind of class. They make tie-dye shirts, pottery—they even make handmade decorations for our end-of-summer party,” Sarah explained proudly.
“Ever take them outside?”
“Not for arts and crafts. Outdoor activities are reserved for hiking, water sports, rock climbing, special events…”
“Nature walks?” I inquired. She looked at me questioningly and with clear skepticism. I ignored and continued, before I caved and walked out defeated. “Why not try a nature art class? Take them outside, to the beach or by the river. Before they plan their hike or go climb those rocks, why not have them sit and enjoy the scenery for a moment and paint their thoughts? You know, freely. It doesn’t have to be paint necessarily, it could be carving, sculpting, or using things that you pick up along the way in your art, like rocks or leaves.” I kept going strong, but her expression didn’t change. At least she wasn’t throwing me out. “These campers didn’t spend all year cooped up in a classroom just to do the same in the summer.” That statement seemed to earn me some interest, from what I could tell by the slight rise of her eyebrows.
“Have you ever led such a class?”
I started seeing my door open a little, because now I wasn’t selling her on the idea as much as I was selling her on myself. I started to get a little more comfortable.
“I’m from Colorado. We spend all year outdoors; if we’re not skiing or snowboarding in the winter, we’re hiking and camping in the summer.” I’d always loved those ski lifts. I wished I could spend hours up there painting. “And like I mentioned before, I’m great with children, I’m already a certified lifeguard, which I know is a prerequisite for any position in most camps.” I noticed her nod and lift my résumé again, this time really looking at it.
“Spending time outdoorsisan important part of summer camp,” she acknowledged.
I nodded. “And let me show you some of my sketches and paintings, which are mostly inspired by nature.” I kept a folder of photos of my favorites on my cell phone and showed her a few.
She lifted an eyebrow. “How old are you?” she asked without looking up.
“Nineteen.”
She nodded slowly and skimmed through my résumé again. She looked up at me once more before turning to her desk and handing me a folder. “Please fill these out and return them to me first thing tomorrow. I’ll need a copy of an ID and lifeguard cert.” She looked outside and spotted my car. “Denver, huh?” She turned back and gazed at me for a moment. “Hmm—we have a few out-of-towners here. They stay at the Bays House. You may have passed it on your way here.
“Bays House?”
“Also known as the Bays Beach Club Housing Center; everyone calls it Bays House.” She grabbed a key from the wall. “Let me show you to your room.”
CHAPTER 2
Imoved in a few days ago, but I haven’t really been around town yet,” my new roommate, Rachel Barnes, said as she watched me put the last of my stuff away. In the hour since I had been in my new summer home, she’d managed to tell me a great deal about herself. I learned that she was from upstate New York, a college sophomore, and a swimmer on the team at Buffalo State. “I’ve only gone down to the main dining hall and out to the beach and taken a few laps in the pool, just to get used to the space.” Rachel informed me that she was one of the lifeguards at the camp pool, one of two who would be on watch while the other would be in the pool helping kids take strides. I found out that the camp hired about six lifeguards in total: two for their camp pool, which was only eighteen-by-thirty-six feet, and four who covered the span of the club’s beach.
“Oh, have you met any of the club’s staff or counselors yet?” I wasn’t sure if I’d missed any type of orientation. I hadn’t had a chance to look over the employee pamphlet Sarah had handed me earlier. My eyes needed a rest from watching the road for two days, with only a few hours’ sleep.
“Sort of. There was an introduction luncheon at the dining hall yesterday. Most of the staff at the camp are returning, so a lot of people already know each other.” She rolled her eyes. “Seemed like nobody wanted to approach the new girl…” She trailed off for a brief moment then suddenly jumped in spirits, probably determined not to bring herself down. “But I managed to make my rounds and try to at least find out who’s doing what this summer, so I’m not at a total loss when the campers get here on Monday.” She looked at me. “I should probably get out there tonight, see the nightlife, find the best place for a cup of coffee. Care to join me?” she asked hopefully.
“Thanks, but I’ve got some forms to fill out here.”
Rachel glanced at my folder. “So, you’re from Colorado. I hear it’s beautiful out there.” She waited for me to either agree or tell her more about myself. “I’m sure there must be camps closer than driving past seven states toward the East Coast,” she continued, clearly needling me.
“Maybe,” I replied with a purposefully absent tone while I scanned the open folder in front of me.
“Most likely,” she said with a slight nod while squinting at me. When I didn’t show any indication of responding, she continued. “In fact—” She pulled out her laptop, which was sitting at the edge of her bed. “Let’s look some up right now… what’s the zip code again?”
I moved over to her, shutting her laptop. “I don’t feel like talking. Okay?”
Rachel looked at me for a moment before nodding and getting up to put her sneakers on. It’s not that I was trying to be rude. I just knew where she was going with this and really didn’t have the answers to the questions that would follow. And even if I did have a faint clue as to why I drove practically cross-country, I couldn’t put it into words. “Well, an ad popped up for this place, and I thought, hey, why the hell not?” wasn’t exactly a sufficient reason.
Caving, I jumped up, grabbing my wallet and slipping on my shoes. “Should we walk or drive?”
Rachel looked up at me from tying her laces and smiled. “Let’s walk.”
