Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(21)
We grab two empty seats on the front row and wait for the rest of the room to fill up. Xander passes me a sign-in sheet being sent around the room and right at the top is the Wi-Fi password.
“The Wi-Fi fucking sucks, by the way,” he groans. “It’s not too bad if you’re in the main buildings but in our cabin it’s non-existent. You’ll get random service and all your messages will come through at once and scare the shit out of you.”
“No service is good for me, to be honest.” I sign my name and connect anyway, passing the sheet on to the people beside me. More messages from the group chat come through, along with some other notifications and messages from my mom.
MOM
I’ve been trying to reach you all week and so has your brother
I hope you have a great summer at the camp
Please visit when you’re back
Missing you, sweetie
Me and your dad both do
I check the other notifications and the one that stands out is the one from my dad.
DAD
Request from kcallaghan19
$50
I lock my phone quickly in case anyone is looking over my shoulder and put it back in my pocket. I feel bad for ignoring her calls, but it’s always the same excuses I’d rather not hear. My brother, Ethan, only calls to give me shit about not visiting, despite the fact he fled to the east coast with his band as soon as he possibly could, leaving me to deal with it all alone.
I’ve always been second choice. To my dad’s addictions, to my mom’s excuses for him, to Ethan’s desire to move away far enough that he can pretend nothing’s wrong.
I love my family, but I hate what we’ve become. Tiptoeing around the things that keep us divided, making excuses for Dad, refusing to work toward a solution in favor of pretending there isn’t an issue. I’ve reached the point where it’s easier to ignore them and keep my distance both physically and emotionally. Thankfully, now I’m here, that distance I’ll be keeping is four hours north.
An older woman taps a live microphone at the same time a fluffy, golden head lands on my knees. Xander immediately reaches for the dog, scratching between its ears in a way that makes the dog’s eyes close and tail wag. “Hey, Fish! I’ve missed you and your hair all over my clothes,” he coos. He looks at me to explain. “She’s Jenna’s dog, you’ll meet her, she’s a director. Jenna works in the office mainly, so Fish just roams around the camp, getting attention from everyone. She usually picks a favorite and sticks with them. Looks like you’re a contender.”
“Welcome everyone!” the woman calls from the front. “For our newbies this year, my name is Orla Murphy and I’m the resident dinosaur here at Honey Acres. I’m the Camp Executive Director and owner and I oversee everything and everyone on camp. My family founded Honey Acres one-hundred and fifty years ago and I’m so happy to welcome you to our family this year.”
I’m half trying to listen, half trying to fuss over Fish when Xander grabs me suddenly. “Oh my God,” he whispers, squeezing my arm tightly. Following his line of sight, my eyes land on the cutest two—equally as golden and fluffy, but much smaller and chubbier—dogs trotting toward us. “Baby Fishes!”
I realize I’m not listening to anything Orla says about the camp as the puppies reach us and Xander scoops them both up under his arms. Twisting the shiny aluminum name tags hanging from their collars, I try to suppress a laugh when Salmon and Trout is staring back at me.
A laugh through the speaker drags me back to the present and when I look back to the front of the room Orla is staring at us. “I see the dogs are doing their usual trick of outshining me. For those of you who have been with us before, Fish had puppies a couple of months ago and she’s very proud of them. Fully expect you may get back to your cabin one day to find them in your bed.”
There are murmurs around the room as others on the front row lean forward to catch a look at the fluffy bundles currently boxing each other in my roommate’s arms.
I commit to paying attention as Orla explains a lot of the things I already know from the brochure about a typical day, expected behavior, days off and what to expect until the campers arrive in a week.
There’s something about the idea of teambuilding that makes me shiver. Icebreakers are my least favorite thing to do and I’ve basically signed myself up for a week of them.
Orla continues with her introduction and a puppy crawls into my lap, right beside its mom’s head, and falls asleep. “Onto the important stuff. I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to you, but alcohol and drugs are strictly prohibited, even if you are of legal age . . . which most of you aren’t. You are here to give our campers a magical summer, if you wanted to spend your summer under the influence, you should have gone on vacation instead.”
Kris, Bobby and Mattie’s faces immediately pop into my head. They said something similar when I countered their offer to go to Miami with working at camp with me.
“For many of our kids, this summer will be the highlight of their year, so keep that in mind when you think about showing up with a hangover. And, finally, everyone’s favorite topic . . . Romance. Here at Honey Acres we have a zero-fraternization policy, which if breached will result in contract termination. This is, of course, for the well-being of our campers, but also for your sanity. You have ten weeks together and, trust me, it goes very slowly when you desperately wish you could escape someone who seemed like a great idea when you had your camp goggles on.”