Camp Little Willow

Chapter 8

     "That's really good." I smile at her as she presses the brush down gently and starts to make small swipes across the wood. I'm pretty sure she is painting daisies to surround her name.

     "I'm doing it like the one I have at home, Mummy made it for me," Daisy replies slowly, concentrating on each stroke of her brush.

     "That's a nice idea." I nod, watching her. I thought seven-year-olds were messy, but Daisy is painting her plaque with such precision it would put me to shame if I were making one too.

     A small hand tugs on my shirt and I turn to Kelsey on my other side. She has painted her name in dark purple, the letters all different sizes, an 'e' is almost on its side. "How do you draw music?" She asks in a small voice.

     "Do you play an instrument?"

     Kelsey shakes her head. "I like to sing. I'm in the choir at school."

     "That's cool." I smile. "Shall I show you what a music note is?" Kelsey nods her head so I stand to grab a piece of paper and pencil from the benches. I draw her a quaver and a double quaver; the only notes I can remember of the top of my head. Let's just say I didn't really have the patience for music class at school.

      "Thanks." Kelsey smiles, pushing her pink glasses back up her nose. "Do you think Mikey will get to make one too?" She asks as she dips her brush into the purple pot again.

      "I don't know, maybe. Does he like to paint?"

She screws her nose up. "No, he likes to play on his Wii."

     Ah the Wii, I remember those. I gave mine to the kids I babysit when I out grew it a few years ago. It's sad to think that I could tell these kids about a Wii and most of them won't know what I'm talking about. It's a piece of my childhood that hardly exists anymore. Growing up kind of sucks when it comes to nostalgia.

      Across the circle, I can see the children are starting to finish their signs. Some of the campers, mainly the older ones who were probably here before, stand in little groups, talking.

     "OK, littles you've got five minutes left, then we need to tidy up for lunch," Zack calls out, starting to place finished signs on another bench outside to air dry.

     "Littles?" I question Zack, raising an eyebrow.

     "Oh, yeah, that's what we call them since they're the littlest ones here. It sounds nicer than kids." 

     I like it.

     "Cass, can you and Jonah take Nellie, Benjy, Gabriella and Alfie to the toilets to wash all the paintbrushes and water pots," Zoe says as I stand.

      "Sure," I say trying to locate the other littles she mentioned. The little girl who was reading The Gruffalo with her mum earlier is hovering nearby. Nellie, I think.

      "Great, make sure they don't muck around. We've got ten minutes 'till lunch." Zoe adds before rounding up my group.

     "If your names Cassie, why did Zoe call you Cass?" A small voice pipes up from beside me. I look down at Nellie, her brows are furrowed in confusion.

     "It's my nickname, I guess." She still looks confused so I elaborate. "Sometimes people shorten names to make it quicker to say. Do you have a nickname?" I ask.

     Nellie plays with a strand of her feathery white blonde hair with one hand, while the other clasps onto three dripping paintbrushes. "Not really, everyone calls me Nellie," she says it almost dishearteningly.