Chapter eight

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The crackling of the campfire filled the air as we settled in for another evening of fun and camaraderie. The counselors put on a lively play that had us all laughing and cheering, their antics lighting up the night like the fire itself. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so happy and carefree.

After the play, the head counselor took center stage and began to share the origin of Sparrow Lake Camp. As he spoke about the founders' vision of creating a space for kids to connect with nature and each other, I felt a swell of pride for being part of this community. It was more than just a camp; it was a place where memories would be made.

The mood shifted when a group of counselors donned silly elephant costumes, waddling around and making us laugh as they pretended to walk over one another. The ridiculousness of them pretending to pee with water bottles had us all howling with laughter. It was moments like these that made camp feel like a magical place.

As the night wore on, the counselors broke into song, their voices harmonizing beautifully against the backdrop of the starry sky. I swayed to the music, feeling a warmth in my heart that came from the friendships I was building.

While I was lost in the moment, I noticed Amelie and Angelique whispering to some boys behind us. I leaned in closer, curious about what was so funny. "What's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice low.

Amelie turned to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "There's these boys who keep saying 'dead homies'-it's hilarious!" She whispered, barely containing her giggles.

I turned to see the boys animatedly chatting, their playful banter echoing in the night. "How many times have they said it?" I asked, and before I knew it, we were all counting. Each time they shouted "dead homies," we erupted into laughter, our numbers rising with each repetition.

As the campfire began to wind down, the head counselor announced that it was time to wrap things up. "Thank you all for such a fantastic evening! We hope you enjoyed the performances and stories. Now, who's ready for some s'mores?"

A collective cheer erupted, but just as quickly, the cheer turned to groans when he continued, "Oh wait! I'm sorry-we're out of time for s'mores tonight. You'll have to wait until tomorrow!"

Amelie's face fell, and I couldn't help but echo her disappointment. "I thought we were roasting marshmallows," I said, feeling disappointed.

"Dang it, I really wished we could have!" Amelie added, her excitement deflated.

As we made our way back to the cabins, I couldn't shake off the feeling of longing for those sweet, gooey treats. But the laughter of the evening lingered in my mind, reminding me of the fun we'd had.

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