Camp Pinecrest

ONE

The overstuffed clothing tower crawled up the dusty pathway. Stones skidded underneath, jamming the wheels as dust swirled with every step.

"I've been moving this thing for less than ten minutes and I'm already ready to quit." Isla scowled at the plastic tower as she wiped droplets of sweat from her hairline. "I'm drowning in my own sweat, Marina." Eyes rolled as she tucked a sweaty tendril behind her ear. Eyes moved to glance at Marina, who was dragging a Rubbermaid behind her. That was not much easier. Marina shrugged at her friends' dramatics.
She was used to them by this point.

Staff training for the summer had finally finished and cabin assignments had started at eight am that morning. A long two weeks of first aid, awkward icebreakers and far too many water drills for Isla's liking. Tomorrow, the first batch of campers would arrive, and the summer would finally begin.
If you asked Isla, staff training had gone way too quickly. They had the staff induction party tonight, but after that, the hard work started for real.

The induction was a bonfire. It has been a Pinecrest tradition since it first opened. Everyone sang, danced, ate way too many s'mores and of course, drank blue juice. The blue juice was usually spiked the further the night went on, but senior staff didn't have to know that. They usually went to bed early on that night. Stories would also be told, the infamous bivouac stories that had been passed down from generations before.

At the sound of birds chirping, Isla was brought back into reality and into the early morning start they had to endure. Cicadas hummed around the camp in their low tune, whistling to each other through the low branches in the tall trees. Stopping in front of a cabin, Isla raised a hand in a mock salute towards Marina.

This was her assigned home for the summer. At least for the next few weeks. Then things would change again. Wiping more sweat droplets from her brow, she shielded the blinding sun from her eyes as she looked at the door to check if it was the right cabin. If it wasn't, well, Isla would collapse there on the spot. Reassured it was her cabin, she dragged the cabinet up the wooden steps. They creaked with every step. The wooden door was painted a mustard yellow colour, the paint crumbled off into her hand, the flakes landing on the porch.

Stepping into the cabin, the scents of must and cleaning supplies stung her nose as she fumbled for the light switch on the side of the door. A singular lightbulb dimly lit up the room, showcasing the yellow walls painted walls with decades worth of names. Thick black writing filled up almost every crevice in the room. Beige mattresses were pushed up against the wall. The beds had been freshly bleached a few weeks back from the large camp clean-up. All staff members and the leadership kids had been roped into it.

Isla dropped her backpack on the floor with a thud. Most likely scaring the family of raccoons that had made underneath their cabin their home.

Isla dragged the plastic tower over to the first set of bunk beds that were reserved for staff members. She adjusted the mattress to lie flatly, before turning to tug the set of sheets from the first set of drawers. The rest of her bedding was sat in the trunk of her car along with the other items she had picked up from her trip home. She hadn't packed much for staff training.

Heaving an irritated sigh with muttered complaints under her breath, she struggled to put the sheets on. They should have this as a class in the gym. Once she had finally secured the blue sheet to cover the thin mattress, Isla shuffled out of the cabin, skipping down the steps hopping off at the last two steps, harply turning left, trying to mentally prepare herself for the next trip back to the cabin with twice the amount of stuff.

Rolling eyes as Isla collided with something (it was actually someone, but it was better to think it was a tree or a wall. She had run into both over the past two weeks).