Holly Maddox was infatuated by powerful women for most of her short life. She always admired the sort of woman who possessed the innate ability to frighten and intimidate people in any situation. Holly adored the sort of woman who didn't shy away from appearing strong and somewhat masculine to others. It was a bonus if the woman had the generosity to reveal her softer side to an intimate hand-chosen audience without ever compromising her staunch supremacy. Theo Fleming was that kind of woman, and then some.
For the past two summers that Holly knew Miss Fleming as the director of Camp Severson, she'd really grown to hate her. Nobody really liked Miss Fleming. Truth be told, nobody cared to admit that they were actually kind of afraid of her.
In the dreary pitch of night, soon after lights out, Holly crunched her way over a leaf-strewn path beaten through the woods to Miss Fleming's cabin on the other side of the lake. Holly's already present hatred for the camp director caused her to shudder. Why me? Holly thought to herself. She couldn't help feeling bent because a couple of the senior counselors had gone into town earlier in the day for a beer run.
The Sunflower and Marigold cabins were empty tonight. A huge slumber party with movies and snacks was taking place in the building next to the dining hall. Some of the counselors decided to take advantage of this. They'd already started the card game when Holly told her friend and fellow counselor, Donna, that she couldn't make it tonight. She had to see Miss Fleming.
Earlier that day, Holly took the 6 girls she was in charge of to their arts and crafts activity which was scheduled for right after lunch. As they were leaving the dining hall, one of the counselors from Bluebell shoved a piece of paper into Holly's hand. The 19 year old counselor unfolded the paper, and she saw right away that it was a curtly written note in Miss Fleming's trademark tidy penmanship. The message bluntly ordered Holly to report to Miss Fleming's cabin directly after lights out. Holly asked the girl why? What was up? But the other counselor just shrugged her shoulders and said that Miss Fleming ordered her to tell Holly that she'd better be there immediately after lights out, or there would be some severe consequences!
By then, Holly's heart felt like it was about to leap into her throat. She really had no idea why Miss Fleming wanted to see her, but she knew that something pretty major must be going on for her to demand the girl's presence in her cabin after lights out. As Holly crunched her way through a few thickets of dead leaves and twigs, she spotted the neat, blackened shape of the camp director's cabin surrounded by some more thickets of scrubby bushes. Holly swallowed hard as she got closer.
So this was what now...the third or fourth time she'd been chastised by Miss Fleming this summer. Holly quickly racked her brains trying hard to think of what she could have possibly done this time, but she couldn't think of anything offhand. So far, it's just been a few minor occurrences like disrupting the flag ceremony and accidentally cutting the water supply to the showers.
Holly cast a furtive glance over her shoulder before knocking at the door. She hoped that Miss Fleming wouldn't answer, but somehow that seemed extremely unlikely given the urgent nature of the note she'd written to the girl. Holly looked over at the soft golden lamplight seeping from the shaded windows onto the dew covered grass a few feet from where she stood. The light reflecting off the crystalline dew drops were scintillating, and somehow this magnified Holly's present distress. She could hear a volley of harsh footfalls within the cabin approaching the door, and the anxious teen brushed an imaginary bug off her shoulder. By now, Holly's skin was flushed; a cold, clammy sweat started breaking out under her t-shirt.
"Holly Maddox, is that you? Come on inside."
A sharp, halting sort of voice answered the girl's knocking. This was followed by a few more footfalls. Holly slowly turned the doorknob and went inside. She stole another furtive glance over her shoulder as she closed the door carefully behind her. She wanted her entrance to be as quiet as possible. Holly wasn't new to Camp Severson. This was her third summer. Still, she didn't want word getting out to anybody that she might be old Miss Fleming's pet project or anything!
With the door safely closed behind her, the beautiful teen took in her surroundings. She was standing in a sort of sitting room that doubled as an office. From Holly's perspective, the overall atmosphere of the cabin was as stifling as Miss Fleming herself. As for the rest of the cabin, it was neat as a pin. It certainly seemed adequate for the 10 to 12 weeks it was necessary for the camp director to stay.
Holly approached a small sofa in the center of the room. She tried to peer into the adjoining bedroom, but she couldn't really see anything. Holly's eyes scanned the walls now. She could hardly help but notice the various plaques and mounted certificates awarded to Miss Fleming over the years on behalf of various organizations. Last week, she'd heard a couple of other counselors talking about some sportsmanship award that Miss Fleming received from the Turner YMCA. That didn't really surprise Holly. Even though a lot of the campers feared Miss Fleming, it wasn't unusual to see the camp director joining in various activities with the girls on the tennis courts or the softball diamond.
Holly's train of thought was suddenly derailed by the advent of another flurry of harsh footfalls coming from the other room. A brusque, halting voice cut the otherwise blissful quiet of the room.
"It's kind of a shame to have to meet on these terms, Miss Maddox."
Holly's eyes widened in shock, and her mouth dropped open for a second when she saw Theo Fleming step into view. The stern, steely camp director was holding a piece of paper in her hand. It looked official; like some kind of list. Miss Fleming is quite a formidable looking woman. If Holly had to guess, she figured the camp director was in her mid to late-40s. She is taller than the average woman, nearly six feet without shoes, and she has a build that can only be described accurately as lean and powerful.
The older woman glanced down at the piece of paper she was holding; a look of mild disgust crossed her face. But it wasn't the look of disgust or Miss Fleming's imposing height that caught Holly's attention. It was her choice of attire.
Of course, this is a residential summer camp. It goes without saying that campers could expect hiking and swimming and outdoor sports of all kinds during their stay. But Miss Fleming never really looked the part of a camp director. She actually looked much more like a high school gym teacher. Tonight she was dressed simply with a light colored golf shirt paired with knee-length plaid shorts.
It is worth mentioning that whether casually dressed or not, Miss Fleming never went anywhere without wearing her whistle. It hung from a black lanyard around her neck. Holly suppressed a smirk when she thought about how often Miss Fleming scared the younger girls with it. Last summer, Holly saw a new girl who was getting off the bus. She was having a hard time trying to carry her bags across the flag pole field in the direction of her cabin. Miss Fleming pulled out her whistle and blew it before yelling at some of the stragglers to hurry up. The poor new girl wasn't expecting that. She dropped her bags, and one of them had a stash of candy that ended up scattered everywhere. That threw Miss Fleming into a mini-rage. Holly saw the camp director ordering some counselor to take up the candy and throw it in the trash. She never heard what happened to that girl after that. She probably begged her parents to never send her to Camp Severson again! Who could really blame her, Holly thought. Holly's smirk quickly dissolved as Miss Fleming brusquely addressed her again:
"I can see by that look on your face that you are probably wondering why I called you here so late."
Miss Fleming's expression was grim, serious. By the looks of things, it seemed very much like the older woman was trying her level best to control her building temper. The anxious teen tried again to think of some reason why she was called there, but she kept drawing a blank.
