“Dang straight. Have you been to any other camps?”
“No.”
I stopped. “Do you have any camping experience?”
“Not big sleepaway ones like this, but I did Boy Scout camp every summer until high school.”
I thought about it for a second. “That’s probably enough for you to be okay here.”
“Is there anything I need to watch out for or worry about?” He gazed ahead to the girls’ cabins, situated on the other side of the main camp restrooms and showers.
“Not really. No snakes. The staff is cool.” I considered the question. “Poison oak and eighth graders. That’s about it.”
“Eighth graders?” His lips twitched like he wasn’t sure if I was being funny.
“Yeah. Worse than snakes. By far the most dangerous critters at Oak Crest. They kind of suck. But don’t worry; they always give the eighth-grade cabins to the older counselors. You’ll get a bunch of the young, homesick, crying ones.”
His eyes widen. “That does not sound better.”
“They’re sweet. If you’d been there this morning,” I said with a pointed sidelong glance that made him smile, “they told us to figure out how to distract them, and that’s it. They’ll forget they’re homesick every time you give them a new activity. Like puppies.”
“Camp Oak Crest is perfect except for poison oak, eighth graders, and crying first-year campers.”
“You’re catching on, Stretch. Oh, and watch out for pranks. But only if they’re being pulled on you.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Sometimes. That’s also tradition.” I didn’t tell him I was the reigning prank queen of Oak Crest. In fact, I was already cooking up a welcome for him to help him feel right at home.
“Are we talking short-sheeting and itching powder or what?” he asked. “That was scout camp level.”
I suppressed a snort. Amateur. “There are only a few ground rules. Style matters. No physical harm to the victim, no damage to their property. But if you can cause them massive inconvenience, public humiliation, or both, you’re doing it right.”
“Great.”
He did not sound like he thought it was great. Well, he’d get over it. It was eat or be eaten in the prank wars around here. He’d see for himself soon enough.
I led him past the archery range, the ropes course, and our two main trailheads. “This one goes up to Moon Rock.” I pointed to the well-worn path. “The campers aren’t supposed to come up here without their leaders, but they always do. Especially the—”
“Eighth graders?” he guessed.
I shot him a cheesy finger gun. “You’re catching on. It’s like they finish seventh grade, and suddenly the only thing they can think about is kissing.”
“Moon Rock is basically the make out spot?”
My cheeks warm from talking about make outs with the cute new guy. “Exactly. And the eighth graders are…” I couldn’t think of a non-crass way to say it.
“I remember,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”
It came out slightly awkward, and I studied him with a side glance as I led him toward the lodge. He was cute, but not the cocky kind of cute like the boys who always sign up to lifeguard at the Creekville pool.
Sawyer hadn’t grown all the way into his looks yet, so his eyebrows were too stark, and his arms too gawky, and his hair too messy, like he hadn’t learned to tame it yet. He was hesitant and slightly serious. But cute.
Not that it mattered to me. Krish Varma hadn’t actually broken my heart, but Ihadlearned camp romances were messy when he kissed Lexi Burke the next night. Plus, being a counselor would make me too busy to try to fit in stolen moments with a boy when our campers would be keeping us on our toes, day and night. Plus, I wasn’t in the market for a summer boyfriend, especially not one who lived all the way in Massachusetts. Plus, my mom had a near-anxiety attack any time she thought Grace or I was in danger of getting a boyfriend.
But I did love a good project, and my mind was already buzzing with ways to break in my new friend Stretch and loosen him up. I’d caught a few half smiles from him, and I wanted to see what happened when he smiled for real. For curiosity, of course.
No other reason.
