Night Owls and Summer Skies [Formerly Camp Mapplewood]

Chapter Two

I shrugged her hand off my shoulder. "Every emotion is valid. I want to cut my own skin off, just to not feel the shiver."

Jessie eyed me. "There are cabins to hide out in."

"Cabins beside the woods."

"So?"

"Woods contain a scary variety of creatures, Jess."

"I've heard all this before. When you were six, and when you were fifteen. Emma, you're seventeen now." Jessie rolled her eyes. Although she did give the cabins a fresher look than her usual happy-go-lucky 'let's sing campfire songs' expression. "At least twenty times alone today. Repetition gets boring. I get it. You're scared. The broadcast was received by everyone."

I kicked some gravel. "Apparently not by my mom."

She sighed. "Please, not again."

"Excuse me for my feelings."

She looked away. "I don't get why you hate it here anyway, in Luton. You used to love it here. Remember?"

I surveyed the area, whilst thinking just how to explain how much of this place caused a severe contempt to rise in my system.

Sweaty teenagers, most of which attended the same school that I did for a couple of years, exactly the people that summer was an escape from in the past, were spread across the area. My mental health required a hefty, three-month holiday away from those soul-suckers in the past and now, a permanent evasion of them.

Yet here they were, constant reminders of a place that was literally hell.

For as long as I could remember, Camp Mapplewood was the talk of the town. It was the resident horror story that never grew old and was spoke of all year long. Mom had always wanted me to go, encouraging me to socialise and to get some sun on my skin. It wasn't my fault that my idea of fun didn't involve directing a stick in the dirt.

Finally, she had gotten her wish, under the pretense that I'd be accompanying her on the cruise. Hence why I packed bags without a fight.

The sun made it hard to find the energy to express anything other than simple grunts. "The people," I offered, eventually answering her question.

There was an understanding, "Ah, did you always avoid them."

I hummed. "Plus, my phone was taken from me."

Another understanding sound vibrated from her.

The camp director flipped through his chart and started calling out names. The first being my friend. Her back went rigid as a response to hearing her name.

I eyed him warily. He looked like a poster picture for a middle-aged dad, rather than the grey-haired man that I pictured in my head. He had collar-length hair and stood at a height of roughly six foot two, with a well-toned medium frame and what looked like kind eyes.

"Jessie Anderson, Abby Thompson, Lauren Peterson, Gwen Black, Mike Hanley, Mason Erikson, Emma Lane, Bennie Crowley, and Kendra Marshall, you're in cabins ten to thirteen and a counselor will be assigned to your activities as a group, known as the Beavers."

"Beavers?" My scoff was loud. "And you like it here?"

"Emma," Jessie hissed.

"The Beavers?" I just couldn't let it go.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," she whispered.

"We're not even ferocious bears or jellyfish."

A ghost of a smile played on the director's face, clearly hearing me speak. "I'm afraid those names have been taken. Beavers are the second largest rodent in the world. You're quite the predator...?"