Chapter 1

School was finally out for the summer and I should have been looking forward to a long vacation. Instead, I allowed a good friend to talk me into going away with her to spend the majority of my summer vacation as a camp counselor at a camp for inner city kids.

It isn’t that I don’t think it’s a worthwhile cause. I do. I totally support the concept of getting those kids out of the city and out of a dangerous environment. And since I work as a substitute teacher I’m accustomed to working with kids, though I’ll admit to being a little nervous about dealing with inner city kids. My life experience, such as it is at my young age, has been gained in middleclass suburbs. I have no experience with the edgier kids I know I’ll have to interact with at the camp.

My husband isn’t all that excited about me going away for six weeks, either. We haven’t been married very long, just over a year. In many ways the honeymoon is still in progress.

But Joni volunteered last year and is going back this year. She has been after me since she returned from the camp last year to go with her this year. Sometimes she seemed almost too desperate to get me up there. It took her many months because I really don’t want to do this. But she finally wore me down and I reluctantly applied for the vacant position, with my husband’s equally reluctant support.

I was all packed and ready to go on Saturday morning. Joni is driving us to the camp up in the mountains in her car. It’s a three-hour drive so I thought it would give me a chance to pick her brain some more. I’m still nervous about the kids who are going to be in the camp and how best to relate to them. I’m used to teaching classes consisting of reasonably well behaved young white children in grades one through six. I really don’t have the slightest idea how to relate to the kids I agreed to work with at the camp.

The camp is separated into sections scattered throughout a large, wooded area around a private lake. There’s a section for boys aged seventeen and eighteen. There’s a section for younger boys, between the ages of ten and thirteen. Jill and I will be working exclusively with black kids between the ages of fourteen and sixteen.

When I sent in my application I had my fingers crossed they’d tell me they can’t use me. I don’t think I’m really qualified for the job for several reasons. I have no experience with inner city kids. But more to the point, I’ve only been to a summer camp once in my life. I had been shipped off to camp by my parents when I was twelve so that they could take a second honeymoon cruise. Fortunately it was only for two weeks. I was not, as the saying goes, a happy camper.

I learned to paddle a canoe, make a wallet and a trivet. You may find this hard to believe, but none of those skills have turned out to be especially useful in my adult life.

I soon learned that there are a lot of bugs and small animals in the woods. Far too many of them are very annoying and sometimes they are downright dangerous. I also learned that I don’t have what it takes to be a pioneer. I would not have done well crossing the prairie in a covered wagon. I probably wouldn’t have done much better in a station wagon.

Joni picked me up early Saturday morning. I’m not taking much with me. I have some hiking boots and shower shoes. I’m taking a half dozen pairs of khaki shorts and a few pairs of khaki slacks in case it gets cool. I have half a dozen t-shirts emblazoned with the camp’s name, Camp Clear Lake, on the front and counselor on the back. That’s the uniform. I packed enough underwear for a week and my toiletries. It all fit easily into one medium sized suitcase.

Gregg, my loving but not very happy husband, is up and waiting with me. We spent a long-time last night saying our real goodbyes. But we had a small breakfast together in the morning and he tried to act like he doesn’t really mind I’m leaving him alone for six weeks.

Joni pulled into the driveway at the appointed time and Gregg carried my suitcase out for me. He put it in the trunk and tried to be friendly to Joni when he said good morning. He blames her for talking me into going with her. But, of course, he’s justified. It took her a long time to wear down my resistance and convince me this is something I should do as a good citizen and a teacher with a social conscience. I’m not doing this to salve my social conscience, though. I’m doing this because she cajoled me into it.

At times she had seemed almost desperate to talk me into doing this with her. As if it was vitally and urgently important I volunteer to go with her. I’m still not sure why she was so insistent. We’re friends, good friends. But we’re not best friends.

We’re nearly the same age. She’s two years younger than me.

We met because we were both employed as substitute teachers. When we first met and became friends she had been trying for two years to get employed full time. But a little over a year ago she started dating and then got engaged to one of the most eligible and richest young bachelors in town. Now she’s happily married and a new member of the idle rich. She’s so recently married I can’t believe she’s going back to the camp again this year.

I, on the other hand, am happy working as a substitute teacher, at least for now. We aren’t rich like Joni and her new husband. But Gregg is a well-paid computer professional. We don’t need the money so much as I need to get out of the house now and then. I make enough money working as a substitute to pay for a nice vacation now and then or to surprise my husband with some electronics gadget he has had his eye on.

The ride up to the camp was strange. I kept trying to draw Joni out on what the experience will be like. But it seemed like she became quieter and more uncomfortable the closer we got to the camp.

Her strange reaction didn’t do anything to reassure me.

We arrived just before eleven o’clock. I was surprised when the place looked as nice as the pictures in the brochure they sent me. The buildings have been built to look like log cabins. The paths between the buildings are neat and well maintained. Looking between the buildings I can see the nearby lake just down a gentle slope from the camp buildings. The camp has an insulated and intimate atmosphere about it that I find I kind of like.

The water is clear and the lake looks much larger than I expected. The other two sections of the camp are farther down the lake. No buildings from the other two camps are visible. It feels nice and private in our little camp. We know the other two camps are nearby but there’s a feeling of rustic remoteness I find charming.

The kids aren’t scheduled to arrive until mid-afternoon. We’re scheduled to receive an orientation and our cabin assignments and have a little time to look around before the kids arrive.

We checked in at the office. I was relieved to learn Joni and I will be sharing a cabin. We were given time to put our things away and asked by Rodney, the attractive young black man behind the counter in the admin office, to return in thirty minutes for a short orientation.

The camp, or at least our section of it, isn’t very large. It consists of two one-story barracks like buildings, each meant to hold a dozen kids. The entrance is at the end of the building. Inside there are six bunks on each side, each with its own locker, and at the end of the long, narrow room is the bathroom containing four sinks, the communal shower, a half dozen urinals and four toilet stalls.

At the far end of each of the two dormitory buildings are partitioned off counselor cabins with private entrances on the opposite end of the building. There’s a small administration building in the center of the small cluster of buildings with a cabin on the back where Rodney is staying. Next to that is the largest building, a mess hall which also serves as an activity center and movie theater. There’s one other small building behind the admin building where the man in charge of this section of the camp stays. All the buildings are rustic and look like they belong here in the woods on the shore of the lake.

We carried our suitcases to our cabin and unpacked quickly. We’re already dressed in our uniforms so we were unpacked and ready in only about ten minutes.

I was surprised to see that instead of cots, our modest cabin contains two comfortable looking full-size beds, one on either side of the room. Each of us has a locker against the rear wall near our bed. We share a small bathroom with a single shower stall. It isn’t nearly as primitive as I feared. We even have a small, apartment sized refrigerator. I suppose I can stand to live like this for six weeks.

The thing that troubles me most is that Joni seems more on edge with each passing minute. I asked her several times what’s wrong. She just shook her head and said, “It will be okay,” in a voice which made it plain she doesn’t believe what she’s saying.

‘It will be okay?!’ Something about that response, and the way she said it, not only didn’t reassure me but had the opposite effect of increasing my own sense of uneasiness.

We went to the mess hall to meet the other counselors and Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore is in charge of our section. I had mixed emotions when we walked into the room. I stopped and looked around just inside the door of the mess hall. There are several people working on the other side of what would be the serving line when meals are being served. They’re all male and they’re all black.

There are four other people in the room. I spotted Mr. Moore. I had talked to him on the phone after I sent in my application. He looks exactly the way I had pictured him. He’s about forty-five years old, large and muscular and quite good looking.

Mr. Moore smiled when we entered and invited us to join them. He introduced us to the others in the room. Everyone greeted Joni warmly. They remember her from last year. They all seem very nice, very warm and friendly. So I was surprised at how distant Joni was acting towards them.

We met Rodney again, the young man from the office who assigned us our cabin. He’s probably only twenty-two or twenty-three years old, five years younger than me. I recently turned twenty-eight. He’s tall and good looking but the way his eyes seemed to constantly scan my body made me uncomfortable.

I was introduced to the other two counselors, Todd and Paul. Both are in their mid-thirties and apparently quite fit. All four men exude confidence and seem up to the challenges we’re about to face. I was relieved to learn there are such capable looking men on the staff. They’re experienced, too. I learned that Mr. Moore is one of the camp’s founders and both of the counselors have been spending their summers here for more than ten years. I must confess, though, that it made me feel just a bit ill at ease that Joni and I are the only females on the staff, and the only white people. Rodney and I are the only new people in the group.

Joni’s reaction to the warm reception she received seemed strained. I really didn’t understand. She seemed so anxious to come back here and so insistent that I come with her to share this wonderful experience. She spent most of the last year trying to convince me I’d have a wonderful time and raving about what a delightful experience it would be.

Because I’m the only new counselor this year there wasn’t much of an orientation and it was all pretty informal. They gave me an idea of what to expect, what an average day here will be like and what will be expected of me. I don’t know what’s wrong with Joni. I thought everyone seemed very nice.

After a little less than an hour the kitchen staff served us a light lunch of egg salad sandwiches and iced tea. I got to meet the cook and his two helpers. We ate and talked about ourselves, the camp, and the kids. I was almost sorry when lunch ended and I had to follow Mr. Moore back to the office to sign some papers.

He escorted me back to his office with his arm around my shoulders. I’m not a touchy-feely kind of person and that would normally have made me uncomfortable. But he was so natural and friendly that I didn’t think much about it. We went into his small office and he asked me to sign half a dozen forms. I didn’t pay that much attention. He explained that I was signing an employment contract, some forms regarding my token paycheck and some releases.

I wasn’t that curious. They don’t pay well here and I hadn’t come for the money. I just signed wherever he pointed. Then he suggested that I track down Joni and ask her to show me the facilities before the kids showed up.

I thanked him and went back to the mess hall. No one was there so I went to our cabin. Joni wasn’t there either. I was just about to go looking around on my own when she came in.

She looked at me and her face turned dark red. She looked down and whispered, “Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

She looked pretty disheveled. Her hair was mussed and her face was red. Her t-shirt was rucked up in the back. She looked like she had been wrestling!

She hurried past me and into the bathroom. For just a moment after she rushed past I could have sworn I detected the bleachy tang of fresh male semen but the smell dissipated before I could decide I wasn’t imagining it.

I sat on my bed and listened to Joni going to the toilet and washing up. She looked more normal when she finally came back out. She still seemed to be embarrassed. I wanted to ask her what the hell is going on. But she has been very secretive since she picked me up this morning. I decided that if she’s having a problem and wants to talk about it then it’s up to her to make the next move. I’ve been trying all morning to get her to talk about this place.

And then I went right ahead and tried to find out what was wrong anyway! I asked, “Are you alright? Where were you? I was looking for you. Mr. Moore said you’d show me around before the kids arrive.”

Joni turned an even darker shade of red. She can’t seem to look me in the eyes. She mumbled something I didn’t quite catch and then she took a deep breath and said, “Sure, Lara. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Joni is really starting to worry me. I’m starting to feel like one of those dumb broads you see in all those slasher movies. Crap is happening all around me and I don’t have a clue. Oh well. At least I’m not running around in the forest wearing high heels ... not yet anyway.

We walked down to the lake. It’s only about seventy-five yards away. A large T-shaped dock juts out into the water. As the name of the camp proudly points out, the water is crystal clear and looks very inviting.

Right beside the dock is a surprisingly large boathouse. It’s full of canoes as well as a few kayaks. I’ve always thought kayaks look like a lot of fun. I’m looking forward to trying one of those out myself.

On the other side of the dock is a small, sandy swimming beach. A raft is anchored about seventy-five feet out in the lake. The swimming area is roped off to protect the kids from boating traffic and keep them close to shore.

The only other sights to see were the well-manicured baseball diamond, a basketball court, and the site where they hold their bonfires at night. A large fire pit is surrounded by well-worn logs where the kids sit and enjoy the fire and, I suppose, listen to stories.

By the time the bus full of excited boys pulled up in the parking lot at two-thirty I had seen it all and we had returned to our cabin to await the screaming hordes. The bus pulled in, blowing its horn as it came to a stop to let us know they had arrived. It started to disgorge its passengers and the entire staff hurried out to greet them.

I found myself getting nervous all over again as I watched those boys climbing off the bus. They all looked so big and so ... I don’t know ... I don’t want to say scary. Picture in your mind an iconic inner city juvenile delinquent about fifteen years old. That was them! And there are twenty-four of them.

As I looked at all those boys swarming off the bus, almost all of them towering over Joni and me, I felt overwhelmed. It’s no longer an abstract concept. There they are. And once they spotted us they had eyes for nothing else. I felt like that poor goat that had been staked out to attract the Tyrannosaurus rex in “Jurassic Park.”