I was told that the drive into Camp Larry Horton would relieve me of all my fears. I was skeptical, of course. This was my first full-time position as a young adult camp coordinator and nothing seemed capable of alleviating the butterflies in my stomach.
But soon after turning off the main road onto the dirt and gravel path leading to the camp, I began to believe. Dense woods on either side of the car quickly blocked out civilization's existence. I was only twenty miles from the center of downtown, but I might as well have been in the Alaska wilderness.
Each turn in the narrow road revealed even more beautiful scenery. After three quarters of a mile I was actually feeling rejuvenated. I crossed over a crystal clear creek and slowed to take in the idyllic surroundings. Damn, it was working. I hate it when my friends are right.
Soon, the first rustic building came into sight and I knew from the descriptions provided to me in advance that it was the office. I pulled into the undersized parking area and turned off the car, allowing myself a few extra seconds to completely compose myself before getting out.
The early September air was fresh. Temperatures during the day were still climbing into the eighties, even approaching ninety on occasion, but the mornings were much more fall-like. Among the first things I noticed outside the car was the near-total silence. A few birds made the only sound aside from my shoes on the gravel as I approached the office.
The creaking of the front screen door made me look up and take notice of the first human I'd seen since leaving the main road. Justine was the Director of Activities at the camp and one of the key people in getting me hired. She strolled onto the porch and opened her arms in a welcoming sign.
"Traci. I'm so glad to see you again," she said, embracing me.
Justine was in her late forties, making her twice my age. She was tall and gangly with short hair, a dark tan bordering on leathery skin, and a strong voice sure to put fear into the most mischievous camper.
"Hi, Justine. I can't believe today is really here," I told her.
She laughed and put her arm around me. "Everything will be fine. We wouldn't have hired you if we thought you couldn't do this. You were made for it. The kids will love you."
"But they're not kids," I said with a bit of panic in my voice. "They're in college. I was in college a couple years ago myself."
"They're freshmen," Justine assured me. "Eighteen years old. You'll be like an older sister to them. Perfect for what we need."
"I hope you're right. You know more about this than I do."
Justine smiled. "C'mon in. I'll show you around."
I probably only retained half of what she was telling me during the ensuing fifteen minute tour of the simple office because my mind was still blurry from first-day-on-the-job jitters. Justine promised me we would sit down later and discuss in more detail what my role would be when the students started arriving the next day. All I knew at the moment was that it was an orientation program sponsored by a local college; team building and bonding.
It was right up my alley, of course, but that didn't mean I wasn't apprehensive. These were going to be real people under my supervision for several days in a close environment. And they would be having their own apprehension about starting college and being away from home for the first time and...God, I was a nervous wreck.
Justine was still talking. "OK. Let's go out back and I'll show you your cabin."
I followed Justine out the back door of the office, across a small patch of scrubby grass, and onto the front porch of my cabin. It was made of wood, but not logs. It was one story with a large window in the front and wooden beams holding up a rickety roof over the porch. Inside, it was split into four main rooms: a living room with fireplace, a kitchen and eating area, a bedroom and a bathroom. It smelled of disinfectant and bug spray.
"These were never intended to replicate a Hilton," Justine said. "As you know, meals will be served in the dining hall, but you can cook whatever else you need in here. As you saw, we have a washer and dryer in the back of the office that you can use. Other than that, we can't offer much."
"It'll be fine," I said. "I didn't bring much."
"The cabins the students will be in are built for two and everybody this week will have a roommate," Justine told me. "It's very rare that we don't have issues with that when we have college kids here. So be prepared. The college insists that we keep that arrangement because they think it helps get them acclimated to dorm life. I'm not so sure."
I deferred to Justine's experience at the camp, but remembered my own period of adjustment at school. Having two in a cabin would be better than three, I thought to myself, where two roommates could team up against the third. In any case, I would keep it in mind.
Justine and I spent the rest of the day touring the multi-acre camp and going over the schedule. Then I unpacked. I sat in my tiny living room and looked over the list of two dozen students who would be attending the camp, but that did me little good until I could meet them face-to-face and interact with them the way I was trained to do. I believed I was a good listener and would become a very good one-on-one counselor. I had less confidence in my ability at conflict resolution when two or more people were involved.
Early the next morning, they started to arrive. The college had done a good job in selecting the attendees; half male and half female. Cabins were pre-assigned and the toughest task was directing everybody down the numerous paths that led to cabins in the woods. As I expected, there were vocal leaders and quiet followers. But they all seemed anxious to be away from campus for a few days at the start of their first year.
The dining hall at the camp also served as the meeting place for when Justine or I had to address them as a group. Justine ran the introductory session right before lunch and then we ate together. It was the first chance to get to know most of the kids better and I was feeling more confident at the end. They were just normal students. I was pretty sure I could handle that.
The afternoon began with the first of the team-building exercises that I was to lead. It was designed to be a low stress activity to get the kids interacting with each other and that's how it turned out. It gave me a chance to learn a little bit more about each of their personalities and one girl, in particular, had my attention.
Her name was on my list as Samantha, but everyone quickly learned she went by Sam. She was a natural blonde, an inch or two above average height, with a well-developed body and a bashfulness that always attracted me in women. It struck me from that very first activity that Sam could be vulnerable in the camp setting. She was clearly less social than most of her classmates and it worried me that she might not fit in.
I watched her move about with athletic ease and grace, but mingling with the others in an informal way just wasn't her style. I saw two guys approach her within the first couple hours, seemingly with the goal of becoming friends, but she put them off politely. This wouldn't have concerned me except for the fact Sam seemed no more inclined to befriend one of the other girls.
In the evening we had just one group activity and then let everybody go back to their cabins. There were no cabins assigned as co-ed and the students were advised to keep it that way. But Justine and I knew visits would be made, as long as no 'all nighters' took place.
I was back in my cabin by ten, glad to be through the first day without incident. I changed out of my camp uniform into more comfortable shorts and a t-shirt and went to the kitchen to find a light snack to watch TV with. As I stood by the refrigerator, movement outside the tiny side window caught my eye. In the darkness, somebody was approaching my cabin and it appeared to be a female.
Half expecting them to walk past, I was a bit surprised—or perhaps, more accurately, disappointed—when I heard a soft knock on my door. I put down my plate and headed that way. With no way of seeing who it was, I opened the door with a little unease.
A very distraught looking Sam stared in at me sheepishly. She had obviously been crying.
"Traci, I...I'm sorry," she said with a trembling voice. "Can I c...come in?"
I was pretty sure more tears started before the door was closed behind her.
"What's the matter, Sam?" I said.
"I d...don't know if I can do this."
