Night Owls and Summer Skies (Wattpad Books Edition)

TWO

The edge of York sat next to the sea, but Camp Mapplewood was too far inland to feel the freshness of the salty air. The oddly earthy and damp smell of the woodland couldn't wash the bitter taste in my mouth away. The entire camp was trapped in a circular band of trees, none of which stood out or looked any different from the next. The extent of trees and general greenery that I could deal with was beside my mother's house—her little garden and shrubs. That's what I had mentally planned for: open spaces and beaches, not an assault of evergreens.

Ever since successfully managing my depression with my dad, I wasn't trapped by it as much. It had been nearly a year since I'd felt the swell, and in the moment when I was handed the clothes that weren't on my back, the moment it hit that I'd be stuck here against my will, the black clouds resurfaced, and it sucked. The shouting, the yelling, the harsh whispers between my parents in the night clawed at my brain.

Now surrounded by roughly fifty other teenagers, I was trapped at camp the same way I had been trapped in that unhappy home.

We were gathered like pigs for the slaughter, helpless to prevent the inevitable summer-long stay. Even though my mother had dropped me off at the campsite one hour ago, a certain amount of rage still coursed through my veins. A number of awkward kids stood around holding their middles and crossing their arms, but then there were a few like myself—those of us on high alert, desperate to be anywhere else—slapping the air, hoping to end the buzzing of blackflies. It couldn't only be me; there had to be others.

Mr. Black chose who went into which cabin. He put the campers into a distinctive category with a group of people that they'd pair up with for the rest of the summer—forced family-like conditions that resulted in some people making the best friends they'd ever have, and people like me feeling lonely and alienated for eight weeks. Even if we had the choice of who we could bunk with, it wasn't like I was close to anyone there.

As I waited to be called, I shuffled to the notice board to reintroduce myself to the camp layout. It had been years since I'd been here. On the map of the camping grounds, we were by the entrance, where the main building sat to the left, Mr. Black's office, the infirmary, and the canteen inside. Farther up was the arts and crafts building, the recreational hall, and finally the six counselor cabins. To the right were the campers' cabins. Farther up to the right was the court that could be used for activities like volleyball and general exercise, and next to it, a rock-climbing wall. There was a path dead in the center of the camp that led to several dirt trails through the woodland that all led to a giant lake. Like most things about this camp, I'd blocked the layout from my mind, and as a result, the only familiarity was the sensation of dread and heaviness in my legs.

Resting against the bulletin board, before I zoned out I made eye contact with someone familiar. Jessie. She shoved by campers who blocked her way and came to lean against the board with me. Her face had lost its baby chub and her freckles had multiplied, covering not only her cheeks but her entire face. Her hair was darker now, dyed a plum-brown color.

"Emma!" Jessie hugged me briefly. "I'm so happy to see you, but what the hell are you doing at this camp? I know you come back to York for summers but never to camp? Never again? Not after the first year you came here."

"Short story really—my mom told me we were going on a cruise. She eloped with a guy called Ethan, planned a honeymoon, and failed to mention until an hour ago that I'd be here instead of joining them. So . . . it's nice to see you, too, Jessie."

"You realize you're at a camp, right? A summer camp?"

"I'm too aware," I replied, suppressing a shudder because the cabins behind the board, while homey in a cute way, were positioned directly beside the woods. The bark on the trunks was meant to act as a protective layer for the trees, but to the touch it was rough, scaly, and gross. Then there were the branches with their sharp edges covered by glossy leaves, pretending they were safe and hunky-dory. No, those trees couldn't trick me into a sense of security and safety. "I'm trying not to think about it."