Camp Bluelake

Chapter 3

We pulled up to the campsite.
My legs felt like dumbbells and my back felt as stiff as iron.

I stepped out of the black SUV, rolling my ankles and cracking my neck, my bag getting pulled out the back by my mother.

The camp.

It was a long journey from home but I appreciated my mum for driving me here, even though I could have taken a bus.

It said 'Camp Bluelake,' on a large wooden sign and there were huts as far as the eye could see. A large lake stood to the right of the grounds, and people already seemed to dot the rocky sand in summer clothing, testing the water.

"You're going to have so much fun here Sweetie!" I looked at her with a raised brow. Is it just me or does she seem way to happy to be dropping me off in the middle of nowhere for two months. I knew this was just her ploy to have a more calming summer holiday.

She walked me to the gate but it seemed she wasn't able to come any further as one of the employees (made clear by the shirt with a camp logo and a name tag pinned just above her breast) came over and calmly asked us to say our goodbyes with an exaggerated smile. It didn't meet her eyes. Off to a good start.

I hugged my mum, giving her a squeeze and a pat on the back, before taking my duffle bag from her hand and strolling in through the gates, giving my last wave goodbye.
The gates closed and I was locked in.
This summer is going to be fun...

•••••••••

There was a spot we had to leave our bags so they could be checked for contraband and then they would be delivered later in the day.

The welcome lodge was positioned in the centre of the campsite, the small cabins dotted around the centre building.

I stepped in, waiting in the que while other boys came out with keys, chatting animatedly to the new friends they'd made. I was bouncing up and down. My worn converse felt like trampolines as I tried to see above the tall heads in front of me. I was short. Standing at a whopping five foot five, my frame made it near impossible to see — no thanks to the six foot something giant directly ahead —however the excitement was also boosting my overall energy and moral and I just couldn't wait to make new friends!

The male in front of me had a head of medium brown hair. He was wearing a grey shirt and a pair of worn denim shorts. His espadrilles clapped against the floor as his heels slipped from the back with every step and — bump!

"I'm terribly sorry sir! I really didn't mean to! I swear I was just looking at your shoes and how your heels slip when you take a step and how when you walk they make a funny no" — he cut me off.

"Woah, calm down little boy. It's fine, don't worry about it."

I was about to tell him I wasn't a little boy, when I looked up. My heart was racing and I was shifting from foot to foot. He had circular glasses covering his eyes, but it didn't take away from the brown gaze that had me fixed on the spot. I looked down suddenly, the eye contact overwhelming my senses. For a moment I was angry at my mum for not taking me to the doctors because of my social anxiety with authoritative figures that I clearly have. Damn that woman.

We stood like that for a few lingering seconds and then he grunted, turning around, as if he was unimpressed at my inability to produce a coherent answer to his statement, though I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say.