Maybe he should have thought about this? No. There was no turning back. Walker wanted this. Longing for it was a understatement. His parents spent a hundred bucks so he could attend the camp. He couldn’t doubt his decision now!

  He walked into the cabin. Fresh air hit his face hard. Kids were hanging off of rails for bunk beds, kids were climbing the dressers, and were tossing around rubber balls. The only content kids were in the corner, chatting and sharing drawings. I walked in and went over to the content kids corner, where he chose the top bunk. The mattress wasn’t filthy. It was cleaner than the last camp. He set his suitcase down and got out his linen. He wasn’t a neat freak when it came to beds being made. Walker cleared his throat and placed his pillow down. The sound of rubber balls hitting the wooden planks for floors was deafening. I looked out the window, and saw a guy, maybe late twenties, walk up to the cabin. I blinked, and in that subtle moment, the door creaked. “Hey, campers. Settle down.” I looked over and saw our (what I assumed to be) camp counselor. He smiled softly, and waited till the bouncy balls were bounced to a minimum. He cleared his throat and set down a stack of papers. The campers perked up in interest. The more content kids stopped talking and looked very eager to begin. I was still thinking about this. “I am your camp counselor, Jake Dagg. And, before we introduce ourselves, there is something important to do. Before every summer, every year of camp, we have our campers fill out these questionnaires,” — his hand gestured to the stack of paper — “then, we do our introductions. After introductions, find a buddy you haven’t met.” He picked up the stack of papers and handed each one out. He had scruffy black hair and dark green eyes. His skin was pale, and he looked younger than he was. When picking cabins, you could see the Cabin Counselor. He was twenty-seven.

  The questions were easy. A lot asked what you wanted to do at camp.

  Archery? Yes. Survival Instinct? Yes. Cooking? No. Writing? Yes. Fighting For A Cause? Yes. Bracelet Making? No. Obstacle Course? Yes. Rock Climbing? Yes. Skateboarding? Why not. Dance? No. Singing? No. Plays? Maybe? History and Science? Sure. And finally, Ownership Course. Yes.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Jake said to raise our hands when done, and he’d collect the paper. He carefully grabbed each paper and nodded to each and every one of us. The dim light barely lit, as the cabin was more reliant on the outside light. As evening was approaching, I was getting hungry. And hunger, was when I wondered what was for dinner. I raised my hand. He turned, looked up at me, and nodded. “What’s for dinner?” I asked. He paused and searched around the room, as if it would auto populate a answer. “I’m not sure.” He replied, and took another questionnaire.

  After the fiasco was done, we sat in a circle. 16 kids. Including Jake. Jake directed us in numbers. I was 4. “Number fifteen?” He asked. The kid had very light, lush brown hair, and blue eyes. She stood up and smiled. “I’m Aspen,” she replied. Jake nodded, and the kids thumped on the wooden, creaky floor. “Number two?” Jake asked. This kid was older. Probably seventeen or sixteen. He had light skin, ginger hair, and grey eyes. “Clay.” He replied, and sat back. “Number ten.” Jake picked. The kid was scrawnier, had fluffy copper red hair. “Cooper.” He said. He sounded 12. “Number three.” Jake said. A way, way older kid stood up “I’m Gavin.” He looked nineteen.

  And that’s all I remembered before eating a burger with my table mates. My table mates were Clay, a blonde haired girl named Opal, Cooper, and Gavin. It was a quiet evening, and camp counselors were talking over dinner. Not to us, to themselves. “How old are you guys? I’m about twenty.” Gavin asked. Cooper glanced over and bit into his burger. “Sixteen.” Opal responded. Her voice was a bit deeper. She looked younger than her voice answered for her. Clay flicked over a small folded up napkin. “Eighteen.” He replied. He sort of snapped his fingers to Cooper. “I’m seventeen,” he replied. I was now the youngest of my table mates. Clay pointed at me. “Twelve.” I replied and bit into my burger, which was almost gone. “I guess I was seated with the adults.” I jokingly said. I knew it wasn’t funny. Nobody laughed. Duh.

  “Hello campers! Welcome to Camp Ashlight. Once you finish your meal, follow your Camp Counselor to the Campfire.”

  The speaker rung out, making my ears hurt. It left a headache pounding screech at the end.

  A/N

  this is my first chapter! I’m open to suggestions!