Chapter 8

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Mr Zeals office was just a short walk from the main building itself, which was pretty convenient for the campers; although the pathway to his office was muddier than what the edge of the lake was.

"Why am I being called to talk to him?" I asked.

The question still rumbling around in the caverns of my mind, Mark still didn't give me much of a response. "It's probably what happened this morning" he sighed.

I questioned more, as if I was going to get a response from him. "The food fight?" I asked.

He smiled, "probably, I don't really know, you're the last person to talk to him; so it shouldn't be that bad, I suppose."

I suppose, it's obviously something bad, he only calls campers to his office when something serious happens, so what did I actually do to get called in there?

We reached the door of the building, Mark then proceeded to open it and then ushered me in; "I have to go back to the activities, just walk down the hall and his office is the second door on the left" he smiled.

There was something odd about him, there was something he was hiding from me. Mr Zeal always wanted a counselor present when he spoke to the campers, it was more of a protocol, so they could help him decide punishments or even just to get to know the campers more.

I shook my head from the thought and proceeded to walk down the hallway; it was quite rustic, there were wooden panels across the entire hall, grey tiling on the floors and pictures clung neatly against the wooden walls. It was obvious that he was into his art more than anything. However, I didn't know Mr Zeal well enough, but my dad did and that kind of gave me a better advantage with him.

I knocked on the door, to hear his low tired voice ring out. "Come in" he said.

Swinging the door open, I closed it behind me and stood Infront of his desk. His desk was a jet black colour, there were a few folders that had heaps of paper stuck on the inside. His laptop was closed and his notepad sat in front of him. Behind him were large, double glazed windows and a blind that matched his desk. In the corner stood about 12 wine bottles and a book case sat just to the side of it. Mr Zeal was a well kept man, organised and clean, he sat there in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his hair was a mess as if it were pointing in multiple directions. In all honesty, I would say he looked tired. Probably tired of all the campers.

"Mark said that you wanted to see me?" I questioned, hesitating and furrowing my eyebrows concerned. I pulled the seat out in front of me, he didn't even ask me to sit down, which was another rule of his in his office supposedly.

He looked up at me from across his desk, "Yes, I heard something happened this morning and I just wanted everyone's accounts. Apparently you weren't at breakfast?" He asked, quizfully.

"I wasn't, you could probably ask Lynne as she knew why. I hardly slept last night, in fact I didn't get the chance to sleep until about 5ish this morning..." I replied, I didn't feel the need to lie to him, if the worst came too, he would more than likely give me a slap on the wrist. "There is one thing I should mention..."

He looked down over the notes he had taken from Dylan and Reese, and then gazed up at me. I could see frustration in his face, as if some of the things that were said to him weren't adding up at all. "Can you go stand outside for a moment? I'm going to call Mark and get him to come back up here. Some things are not adding up" he replied.

I stood up and walked out of his office; and within minutes Mark was walking down the hallway in what seemed to be a rush. "Hey, Zach" he said, gripping his walkie talkie in his right hand.

"Hi" I replied. "I don't know what's going on..."

"Let me talk to him before he asks you to go back in, alright?" He rushed through Mr Zeals office door, closing it behind him.

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