Just then, Sampson’s phone rings from his pocket and he excuses himself from the table to step outside and take it.
Mrs. Garreth grabs her plate and her husband’s, and I help her clear the table. I stack Sampson’s plate on top of mine and stack the other empty bowls from dinner and bring them into the kitchen.
“That was really good, Mrs… Molly, thanks for having me over,” I say.
“Any time, dear,” she says, taking the plates from me and placing them in the sink. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Being so far away from home for the first time can be tough.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Believe it or not, Sampson had a hard time his first semester at college when he moved out on his own,” she says. “I remember him calling me every day for the first month. That’s why we decided to buy Camp Arthur, we wanted to be closer to him and my husband wanted out of the city. It was perfect.”
I smile at her story, not being able to picture Sampson ever being the needy type.
Sampson comes in then and puts his shoes on. “Hate to eat and run, but I need to get going. You ready, Penelope?”
“Sure,” I say, walking over to put my shoes on.
As we head to the door, Mrs. Garreth grabs two sandwich bags and fills them both up with something and hands a bag to each of us, “For when you need a little treat.”
I glance at the bag and see the freshly made cookies. I thank Mrs. Garreth and follow Sampson out the front door and back to the golf cart. On the short drive back to my cabin, I can’t get the smile off my face. For the first time since I got here this summer, camp is feeling like home again.
Dinner rolls around and I’m practically on cloud nine with happiness. I almost have a skip in my step as I’m walking up to the mess hall to get dinner. Getting to know Sampson as a friend, with no one else around and just enjoying camp, was possibly the best weekend I could ask for.
All of my co-workers are making their way back to camp, filling up the employee parking lot with their dust covered cars and walking back to their cabins with fresh laundry and bags of snacks. A few people are in the mess hall when I get there sipping on some coffee while reading a book or scrolling through their social media feed on their cellphones.
I grab a bowl and make a small salad since that’s the only thing the cooking staff has ready since the campers aren’t here yet.
Part of me is tempted to go sit by one of my other counselors and try to make friends, but I don’t want to be too eager or annoy anyone. After all, this is the last chance for alone time before the real work begins.
I choose to go sit toward the back of the mess hall, wishing I had brought my cell phone to dinner or a book to read so I have something else to do to occupy my time. For ten minutes I stare at my salad like it’s the most interesting and entertaining thing since the election last year.
“Earth to Penelope,” says a voice next to me.
“Shit,” I say, looking up as Kenny is sitting down beside me. “You scared the crap out of me, you jerk. Why do you always do that?”
He ignores my comment and pulls some food out of a plastic bag.
“That looks so good,” I say, staring at his dinner. Fast food. Junk food. “I’m so hungry. All they had was salad.”
“Well,” he says, continuing to pull out food from his two bottomless bags. “You’ll be happy to know, I was thinking about you when I was sitting in the super long drive-thru and I thought I would share. Don’t know what you like or don’t like, so take what you want and I’ll finish the rest.”
“Kenny,” I say, gripping his arm. “You’re a lifesaver.”
He blushes and I pull back my hand, reaching for some chicken nuggets and fries.
“How was your weekend? Go anywhere?” he asks, stuffing his mouth with a burrito.
How many fast food places did he hit up? I think to myself.
“Just hung out,” I say. “Went out for lunch but stayed close to camp.”
“I totally forgot you live a bit of a distance away, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Wasn’t worth going home since we just got here last weekend.”
“I’m such a moron, I should have invited you out or something. Kind of just assumed you were doing your own thing,” he says.
I shake my head, wondering just how different my weekend would have been had Kenny invited me out with his friends. “It’s fine, maybe next time.”
“So, are you excited for camp to officially begin?” Kenny asks.
“Yeah, I honestly can’t believe we’re not campers this year though. It’s going to be weird.”
“I can’t believe people are putting me in charge of their kids!” he says laughing, some cheese falling from his mouth and landing on his shorts. He wipes them off with a greasy napkin.
I almost spit out my food in a fit of laughter, but grab my own napkin before my dinner covers the table. “Well they haven’t met you yet, so they might change their minds.”
“True, I didn’t really think about that.”
The door behind us swings open and I don’t have to turn around to know that the voice belongs to Viv, and she’s speaking to Sampson. That must have been why our lunch earlier was cut short. She says jump, he says how high.
She’s back earlier than we thought.
“Sampson! Sup?” Kenny asks, waving them over.
Neither of them take a seat at our table. I take a quick glance at Sampson, but his attention is on Kenny. “Not much,” he answers.
“How was your weekend?” Kenny asks pounding fists with Sampson. I never viewed Sampson as the type of guy who ‘fist bumps’. But I also didn’t think he was a frat guy or a momma’s boy.
“Good. How about you guys? Do anything fun?” Sampson’s eyes linger on mine, but I notice Viv’s grip on his hand tighten.
“Not too bad. Just chilled out,” Kenny says, chewing off the tip of a fry.
I nod my head along with Kenny and snatch a chicken nugget so I have an excuse to not say anything.
“I need you to put together the welcome bags for the kids tonight. I left all the stuff in boxes on your bunk,” says Viv, trying to show off her power over me.
“I’ll get it done,” I reassure her.
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Kenny asks.
“Don’t worry about it,” Viv almost snaps but catches herself. She leans her head on Sampson’s shoulder. “Just spending some time together before things get hectic.”
“So while you two…” I start to say and then realize I’m speaking out loud. “So, while you two spend time together, why don’t you come over and help me with bags, Kenny? I’m sure Sampson needs help with your camper bags too. It’s the least we could do for them.”
“Um, yeah. Sure,” Kenny says as he jumps up from the bench and starts gathering up our trash. “I’ll go throw this stuff away and meet you outside?”
I slowly get up from the bench with a smile on my face. “Stay out as long as you need tonight. I’ll handle all the camper preparations.”
“Awesome,” Viv says, that horrible edge to her voice.
“See you tomorrow, guys,” I say heading for the door. “Oh, and thanks for keeping me company this weekend, Sampson. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Would have been bored out of my mind.”
He tells me it was a pleasure and I smile as I watch Viv go rigid with anger. I know it was childish of me to mention Sampson hanging out with me while everyone was gone, but I know Viv won’t have time to corner me about it because we’ll be too busy tomorrow preparing for campers. I’m tired of her pushing me. It’s time for me to stand up for myself.
That may have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
“Can you hand me a small shirt?” I ask Kenny.
We’ve been packing goodie bags for our campers for two hours now. We’re sitting on the cold concrete floor of my cabin, empty granola bar boxes surrounding us and a large pile of drawstring bags alrea
dy completed off to one side.
Kenny checks the tags on the insides of the shirts and tosses one in my direction. “That might be the last small. Everything else looks like mediums and larges.”
“Only ten more camper bags to go. Why Viv thought this was a one-person job, I have no idea,” I say, stretching out after adding another completed bag to the pile. “If I didn’t have you, this would have taken all night.”
“Teamwork,” he laughs. “How has she not acquired that skill in life yet?”
I shrug my shoulders and toss him a granola bar and open one for myself. “Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Kenny says, counting out ten granola bars and then opening up one leftover and taking a bite out of it.
I let out a yawn, not even realizing how tired I am. “What time is it?” I ask.
Kenny glances down at his watch. “Almost midnight.”
“I thought Viv would be back by now,” I say. “It’s kind of crappy of her to ditch me the night before we get our first campers.”
Kenny pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I have a text from Sampson. Looks like she’s staying at our cabin,” he says with a sigh.
“Of course she is,” I say, rolling my eyes. I go sit down on my bunk, staring down at the mess we need to clean up.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, what’s up?” I ask. A few crazy things run through my head, but most of them are good.
Kenny stares down at one of the bags and plays with the drawstring. “I don’t want this to sound bad, and you don’t have to tell me. I just… there’s not something going on with you and Sampson, right?”
“What, no! That’s crazy! Why would you even think that?”
His laugh sounds nervous. “I know, it’s silly. I must have just been imagining things.”
“Things like what?” I ask, trying to smile my best innocent smile.
“He just looks at you differently. When he’s around Viv, whether you're there or not, he looks terrified. I’ve seen him when it’s just the two of you though and he seems happier,” he explains.
“Well, nothing’s going on as far as I know.”
“It was stupid. Forget I even said anything. I mean, he’s like super whipped by Viv. Why would he even think about getting away?”
“Exactly!” I say. “Besides, I won’t be a home wrecker. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“No, you’re right. I feel like an idiot for even thinking that way.” He looks down intently at the floor.
After a moment passes between us, I place a bag on each bunk with their name tags. Kenny grabs his campers’ bags and places them in one of the t-shirt boxes to take back to his cabin.
“Well, I guess I should be going. We have a busy first week ahead of us,” he says, holding his box over his head.
“Yeah, let me get the door for you.” I walk in front of him and push it open.
“And thanks for your company.”
“Anytime,” I say smiling.
I watch him pull out a mini flashlight from his pocket to light his way. When did Kenny, the kid who I used to despise being here at Camp Arthur, turn into such a gentlemen?
The door to the cabin swings open and I jump out of bed, reaching for a weapon but only finding one of my flip flops. It takes me a minute to realize it’s just Viv returning from the previous night. I crawl back into my bunk and pull my blanket over my head, trying to shut out the sun coming in through the windows.
“Good morning,” Viv sings, her mood completely changed.
“What’s up with you?” I grumble, only pulling the blanket down enough to show my eyes.
“It’s a new day, my sweet, sweet, Penelope,” she says. “What’s up with you? I gave you the cabin to yourself last night and you didn’t snag your opportunity?”
“Opportunity for what?”
“Um, you and Kenny. Hello! He’s so into you!” she exclaims.
I pull the blanket down to my neck. “Kenny and I are just friends.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t do more than friendly things.”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “So young and naive. You’ll grow up quickly this summer. Don’t worry.”
I watch as Viv grabs clothes from our storage room and heads to the bathroom, wondering what exactly happened last night to get her in such a good mood. I try to accept reality, but there’s no way someone can go from hating you for a week and then trying to be your best friend or at least nice to you.
I slide my legs out of my sleeping bag and place my feet on the floor, leaning down to reach into my duffle bag for a pair of athletic shorts and my green staff t-shirt that says ‘Camp Arthur’ across the chest, with our motto, ‘Mountains of Possibilities’ across the bottom.
Hopefully that motto stands true this summer.
After heading to the mess hall to grab a quick bowl of cereal and some coffee, I fill up my water bottle and set off toward the welcome center. When I get there, Kenny’s already setting up the table and chairs for us. He smiles and waves when he sees me, and he places the binder full of the campers’ names, addresses, and special instructions on the table.
“Reporting for check-in duty,” I say, dropping my backpack under the table and placing my drink on the ground next to my chair. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine, not much for us to do just yet. Campers shouldn’t start showing up for about forty-five minutes,” he says, glancing over a list of our duties.
“So, what do we do?”
“Says here that we’re just supposed to find the camper’s name in the binder, have the parents sign next to their name, and then we send them into the welcome center to get checked for lice and to drop off meds if they have any. It appears our job is pretty simple,” he says. “Bring anything to do?”
“I can go snag some supplies from the art center,” I say nodding. “We can make the first friendship bracelet of the thousands we’ll be making this summer.”
“Sounds good. You should probably show me how to make them so I know for later. I’ll call over the walkie for someone to cart us a cooler and some cups over. It’s supposed to be super hot out today.” He runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair to keep it off his ears.
I nod in agreement and head over to the art building. Inside, it’s the cleanest I’ve ever seen it. Usually the tables are covered in lace, string, beads, macaroni noodles, glue, and other items used to make crafts. Looking at the blue walls covered in various colored handprints, I feel nostalgic. I spot my yellow handprint from three years ago when they repainted the building. I was fourteen. I place my hand over it and smile, my fingertips only covering it by a tiny bit.
They’ll probably paint over these handprints again soon, but hopefully I’ll be here to leave my mark on Camp Arthur once more. I remove my hand from the wall and go over to the storage cabinet in search of the thin string for bracelet making. I find a wide assortment and just grab about six colors with a pair of scissors, some tape and a piece of cardboard.
When I get back to Kenny, he’s just finishing up on the request for the water cooler. “They said it will be about an hour. They’re filling them right now and loading them up on the golf cart, dropping them off at the cabins first.”
“Then we have plenty of time to do a friendship bracelet tutorial?” I ask, smiling, putting down the items from the art building.
“What’s the cardboard for?” Kenny asks.
“You,” I laugh. “It’s easier to teach on cardboard. That’s what the counselors used to do for us instead of just taping the strings down.”
Kenny just stares at me, clearly not understanding.
“Trust me, it’ll be a lot easier for you. By the end of the summer, you probably won’t need it anymore.”
“If you say so,” Kenny says.
I take the scissors and make a slit at the top of the cardboard and then six slits
at the bottom for the thread to fit through. Kenny picks out six of the colors, and I cut off equal amounts, tie them together at the end to slide into the top cardboard slit, and then place one strand of each through the other openings.
My setup is different, though a little easier. I tie off three colors and then tape it onto the table. I show Kenny how to make knot after knot, though I make progress quicker than he does. I’ve made these bracelets a lot more than he probably has. Whenever it rained in the past at camp most girls, including myself, would stay in the cabin and make bracelets to exchange with each other.
By the time the first camper shows up, I’ve already finished a bracelet and started on a second one. I glance over to see how far Kenny had made it, and he only finished about an inch.
We stop what we’re doing as the camper and her parents walk over to our table, dragging along two rolling suitcases behind them. The girl looks to be about eight years old, but that’s all I can get from her because she hides behind her parents’ legs.
“Hello,” I say in my cheeriest voice. “Welcome to Camp Arthur, can I have the camper's first and last name, please?”
“Daisy Miller,” says the mom. She doesn’t seem thrilled to be here. I imagine they might have suitcases of their own packed up and be ready to head out on their own vacation.
“Miller comma Daisy,” I say looking over the list of female campers. “Ah, here we are. Look at that, you’re my first camper!”
I hand them over a temporary name tag with Daisy’s name on it and her cabin assignment. They sign by her name and I initial beside it, then give them the directions on where to go from here.
“After you finish inside, you can grab one of the counselors waiting on the patio and they’ll help you with her luggage and finding the cabin,” Kenny says, offering a smile.
Once they walk away I turn back to Kenny. “One down.”
I look out into the parking lot as another girl climbs out of a cherry red Benz convertible, her parents trail behind her with three rolling suitcases, the mother chatters on a cell phone, while the father appears to talk aimlessly.
The Last July: A New Adult Romance Page 7