Tips for Taking Over Summer Camp Chapter 3: Why Am I Not Feeling Ok?

Chapter Three: Why Am I Not Feeling Ok?

I don’t do very well in cars. They’re stuffy and I get claustrophobic easily, which will lead to very bad panic attacks. To top it all off, I get very bad motion sickness which involves me being unable to eat before and after the drive. I’m going to be very hungry when I arrive at camp. Hopefully I won’t pass out this time, but maybe that would be better than having to sit through the torture.

The good news is that I somewhat enjoyed myself during my week-long wait before camp. I went camping and hiking with my parents for three days on the mountain which was just outside of town. It was right next to Newwodtunrub, which charred remains my parents let me explore (despite the danger and that it was probably illegal).

All of the cabins were nothing but a few clumps of blackened wood and soot that was surrounded by a ribbon of yellow caution tape. The only thing that was left of the huge mess hall was a single, broken plate. Basically everything else was ruined, reduced to nothing but a few giant piles of ash.

Slowly, I approached the remains of the very cabin I had been returning to every year. My breath turned shaky and memories paraded around my mind, surrounding me like a pack of ghosts. My legs started to shake and I collapsed to my knees, sending flakes of ashes fluttering around me. Chubby tears started to run down my face and my body was shaken with sobs.

I knew the severity of the situation then.

I would never get to see my old councillors.

I would never get to play the old, classic Camp Newwodtunrub games.

I would never get to be a junior councillor.

And CALAC wouldn’t come close to this.

I just sat there for a few minutes before something caught my eye. I crawled towards it to get a closer look and gasped. It was a tiny shard of wood from one of the bunks. But it wasn’t just any bunk, it was mine. I recognized one of the names which campers engraved onto their bunks every year. In the past, I had spent hours inspecting and memorizing the names and places of each name.

On the shard in loopy writing, the e, the o, and the b, from a girl named Phoebe were left on there, along with the bottom of one of the l’s in my name which I had written when I was eleven or twelve and part of an R from another (either Rebecca L. or Regan-Ann).

I had never met these Phoebe or R people, but they were probably dead or in a nursing home; the camp had been around for more than seventy years. This made me wonder if these former campers—if they were still alive—had found out about the death of the camp. Were they as upset as I was to discover that their camp memories were extinct?

I clutched the shard to my chest as if afraid to lose it. The wind then decided to pick up, showering my body with ashes. I coughed and sputtered a little, but the wind didn’t last long.

I got up, not bothering to dust myself off, and joined my parents near the entrance of the camp.

“You ready?” Dad asked.

I sniffed and nodded and we made our way towards the mountain.

We hiked and camped in the beautiful landscape before heading home. My family laughed a lot and we went fishing, jogging, took photos, and told stories by firelight; nothing special. The piece of wood that I found was soon tied in string and I hung it around my neck. With every step I took, it would thump against my chest once and wait for me to take another step so that it could thump again.

I enjoyed my time on the mountain, but all of the memories from Newwodtunrub kept slowing me down. I tried to distract myself, but now that the reality that I could never return to camp again had finally hit me full-force, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wished that all of the pain would just go away and I could forget about camp. But that wouldn’t happen.

I tried sometimes thinking about what new adventures would await me at CALAC, but that just made me even more depressed. It wouldn’t be as good as my old camp. I won’t make any friends. Summer camp will never be the same. I’ll never be happy again.

JUST STOP!

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the charred remains of my former summer camp. Maybe going back was a huge mistake. But then again, there was the shard of wood. Running my fingers over its crevices and trying to brush off its burnt parts seemed to make me happier for some reason. Logically, it should make me more upset, but it seems to punch a hole in some sort of feelings dam and serenity flows through my body.

After the camping trip, we drove home where I just slept all day, emotionally exhausted.

The next day, I hung out with Rosa and Cordelia. I told them about my trip, which got me a lot of sentimental feedback. I had the best friends ever.

We didn’t do anything interesting that day. We just chatted, sorted my many books in boredom, daydreamed about Rosa’s trip, and tried making cupcakes. That last one ended horribly on mine and Cordelia’s part. We burnt most of our cupcakes during the baking process. On the other hand, Rosa is a seriously talented cook. Each of her cupcakes were fluffy and flavourful. They tasted like nothing I had ever eaten before, a bit like swallowing a portion of an elegant castle.

Rosa left the next day, so Cordelia and I said our farewells to her at the airport. We didn’t do anything interesting after that. Our activities weren’t any different than the day before, but we didn’t dare try baking again.

Our mindless boringness filled up all of days before I needed to leave for CALAC. We weren’t going to admit that we had a ton of fun like summer was supposed to be at all times because we didn’t. We entertained ourselves and missed Rosa, but that was about it.

Right before I was about to leave and just after I had put my two neon yellow suitcases in Mom’s truck, Cordelia showed up in my driveway.

“What are you doing here so uncharacteristically early?” I asked. The sky was still stained dark blue and an orange dawn was just starting to spill into the sky. Miniscule silver stars were still in mid-twinkle above us, just about to disappear with the moon.

Cordelia shrugged. Her hair was knotted and she was still blinking sleepily. “I thought I would say good-bye.”

I darted towards her and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.

My friend went stiff in my arms’ grasp. “Well, speak of uncharacteristic! Um, I guess the whole Newwodtunrub incident did quite a bit to you. You never give anyone hugs.” Her hand went reassuringly to my back. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Tears started to well in my eyes, but I blinked them away. “Yeah,” I sniffed.

“You sure? You don’t make yourself sound very sure.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t be afraid to text me all your problems, ‘kay?”

I released Cordelia. “No problem.”

We gave each other two warm smiles as I heard my parents come out the front door.

“Hi, Cordelia!” Mom said enthusiastically.

“Hi Molly’s Mom and Molly’s Dad,” Cordelia replied stiffly. “I’ve just come to say bye to Molly.”

“Well take all the time you need,” Dad said.

They then both climbed into the truck, waiting for the two of us to finish. I shifed uncomfortably, knowing that my parents were watching Cordelia and I.

“I guess I should probably go now,” Cordelia said to me.

But she did not leave and I did not go into the truck with my parents, we just stared at each other for a couple of really long moments.

“Text me, ok?” I said, breaking the silence.

Cordelia nodded and started to walk back to her house. “See you,” she said, not looking back at me.

I ran into the truck and close the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Why did conversations with that girl need to be so awkward?

“Ready?” Dad asked from the passenger seat.

I nodded and buckled my seatbelt, wondering how many headaches I’ll get this time.