POV: Frankie

The next few hours were crammed with what I can only describe as rapid-fire-child-safety training. When I say rapid-fire, I mean it. I thought we were still talking about poison oak when, actually, we had long since moved on and were talking about girl-on-girl bullying. Two very different topics, might I add-- but neither are particularly pleasant to deal with. I speak from experience.

 According to Darlene, who seemed a little more than frazzled today, girls were much more vicious than boys and required a certain finesse that we needed detailed coaching on. She handed out badly-copied articles about de-escalation strategies and spoke some stereotyped bullshit about how girls won't stop fighting even when pulled apart, unlike boys. Gendered bullshit, if you ask me. Personally, I think we should just sacrifice the mean girls to the bowels of the lake. Its much more difficult to be catty when you're coughing up lake water. 

Truthfully, I don't think a half-day of talking about 12-year-old emotions and survival skills really qualifies any of us to look after hoards of children in the middle of the NorCal woods, but at the same time, the conflicts in question weren't all that dissimilar from what I deal with at the group home, anyways. And these campers actually had parents who had, presumably, taught them right from wrong. Maybe I wouldn't be so bad at this after all. 

It was amusing to see the rest of my housemates taking camp so seriously after we'd all bitched and moaned about this whole 'adventure' for the last week. We'd really given Marley a hard time. Especially Taylor, whose eyes were strangely affixed on Darlene as she spoke through her camp lectures. I knew that Taylor liked children-- a lot, it had been a really difficult decision for her to put her own daughter up for adoption when she was 16. But to be honest-- I couldn't really envision her handling children all that well. She can't even handle Blake, whose essentially just a really tall twelve-year-old. I guess we'll see who manages to get sent packing first-- and to be honest, it wasn't looking so good for Blake who was fooling around with Dylan for the entire morning... not really loving that combo.

Finally, noon rolled around, and Darlene and Marley marched us out towards the street so that we could greet our campers. As we walked, Rowan rushed up beside me and handed me a clipboard and a stack of name badges-- the kind you wear around your neck. Kind of like a dog collar, but, y'know, for children. 

"You ready?" She asked, flashing me a surprisingly uneasy smile. I shrug, feeling a little overwhelmed after attempting to process all the information from this morning on a nearly empty-stomach. "I'm always nervous the first day, too," She continues, falling in stride with me. "I think it's kind of the same feeling you get on the first day of school. Just because I'm 18 and in charge doesn't mean these little girls aren't going to absolutely  hate me. They can be cruel no matter who you are," She half-laughs, but I can hear a genuine hint of the jitters behind her brave face. I offer her a half-smile in return. 

"Honestly, I don't think you need to be afraid of these kids," I say as I flip through our camper's name tags. "Like, who names their daughter Briclyn?" I snort, showing Rowan the top of the stack. She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Well. There's always one white girl with a completely made up and ridiculous name, but I don't know if you're one to really talk, Frances." She nudges me with her elbow. I quickly feign offence. 

"Hey, my parents went AWOL on me before I even hit double digits-- they don't exactly have the best judgement," I point out, rolling my eyes. Her smile drops, and I quickly realize I might have made things awkward. Most people never know what to say when you talk about not having parents. It makes them vastly uncomfortable. Which is funny, because when you think about it I should really be the one uncomfortable. 

"I'm sorry--" She starts, but I just smirk and roll my eyes, trying to show her that it's okay. 

"Dude, we're lagging behind!" I say loudly, pointing at the pristine charter buses that were rounding the bend into camp. I start running foolishly, and Rowan laughs, quickly catching up with her ridiculously long legs. They were as useful as they were sexy. I mean. Shit, come on-- all legs are sexy. 

"Chloe, Aimee, Brynn, Erin, Fallon, Bri-Briclyn," Rowan calls out with authority, stumbling only slightly on that last god-awful name. I try not to smirk as little girls in giant backpacks run up to us through the chaos. And that's truly the only way to describe what was happening here-- children were running in every which direction, following the voices of random counselors calling out their lists. Friends hugged and reunited left and right, completely ignoring instructions-- shit. It was insanity. This was worse than an open house at an orphanage. Well, maybe. These kids didn't have to worry about getting adopted.

 I glanced over a sea of heads at Blake, who was herding little boys like a sheepdog into a line, and doing a surprisingly good job at it. Blake flailed around, and it occurred to me how perfect Blake would be for this whole camp counselor thing. I allowed myself a small smile, and then returned my attention to my own gaggle of twelve-year-olds. Rowan took each name tag from me and brought it around each respective girl's neck and confirmed their name, while I checked them off our list. 

"Hey sweetheart," Rowan mumbles, bending down to eye-level with a cute little blondie. She wore her hair in two matching braids with crisp pink bows at the bottom. Charming. "I'm gonna need a little help pronouncing your name, okay?" She asked, smiling sweetly. I roll my eyes.

"It's Briclyn. Bric rhymes with rice," She sighs, clearly having been through this a thousand times. Damn, her mama really did her dirty. But, then again, at least she had one. Presumably. 

"Alright guys, let's head on down to our cabin, and we'll get started with our introductions!" Rowan exclaims, doing a dorky little cheer with her fists. She turns on her heel, and the girls started following her like little ducklings. I start to trail behind before quickly feeling a small hand in mine. I glance down. 

"Hi," The little girl says. Fuck, what do I say?

"Hi?" I reply, somewhat awkwardly. I think her name was Brynn. She wore her black hair in perfect, even cornrows, and small wire glasses perched on her nose. 

"I'm new." She says gazing at the group slightly ahead of us, most of whom already seemed to know each other. 

"Ahh," I mumble, giving her a small smile, and her hand a squeeze. "So am I,"

Have you ever seen six little girls try to decide who gets the top bunk and who gets the bottom? Because it is an absolute nightmare. I sit down on my cot and zone out, letting the chaos fade away around me. I feel the weight of the cot dip, and glance at Rowan beside me. 

"They're a lot," She says, pointedly. I chuckle in agreement. 

"Yeah, no kidding," I glance at Chloe and Briclyn who were one hair pull away from an epic meltdown. Before Rowan could react, I stood up and got between them. 

"Ladies," I say dramatically, instantly capturing their attention. "Why are we so concerned with who sleeps on top when we could be figuring out the best way to turn your bunk bed into a fort," I suggest, quickly diffusing the situation. Rowan watches from the cot, beaming from ear to ear. As annoying as it is to see her so pleased with herself, I can't help but wonder if she's-- y'know, more of a top bunk or a bottom bunk herself. Totally camp-related. Nothing kinky going on here. 

The girls turn to face each other and quickly start pulling out their sheets to drape over the railing of the bunk bed. I smirk. I guess I have learned a thing or two from the group home. Nobody can resist a fort.

After introductions, the campers are sent off towards their own orientation with Darlene and a couple of the other adult staff that had drove in just an hour ago. All the counselors were laying out near the fire pit, catching a breather and blowing off some steam, so Rowan and I joined them. 

"Hey," Blake calls to me as we walked up. I guess they had completely forgotten that we weren't exactly on good terms. 

"Hey," I reply stiffly, not really sure if I'm ready to forgive them. Blake groans, and Rowan politely excuses herself to go sit with her friends. 

"Fucking hell, you're still mad?" They furrow their thick eyebrows together and jab me in the gut. 

"I'm not mad, Blake, just-- god. I'm trying to look out for you, y'know?" I sigh, sitting down on the grass some distance away from everyone else. Blake squats beside me.

"You know I appreciate you, dude, but come on. It's not every day that I get to feel like one of the guys, I just wanted to have some fun and chill out," They reply, delivering a surprising amount of self-reflection. I cock an eyebrow, satisfied with this response. 

"I get it. So, you like Dylan? Not too much of a douchebag?" I ask, cracking a smile. Blake snorts. 

"He's great. Yeah, he's a little Christian boy but he's super chill. He's obsessed with anime which-- yeah, I know, weird, but I actually think it's helped him become more open-minded," 

Blake blabbers on and on, and I find my gaze drifting off towards the horizon, where Rowan had her head thrown back, laughing at something another counselor said. The sun was low in the sky and lit her dark hair on fire, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like between my fingers, being pulled-- 

"Dude, you're not even listening," Blake whines, flopping backwards and covering their eyes from the sun. 

"I'm listening," I mumble, tearing my gaze away from Rowan. Blake smirks. 

"Fuck no, you're not, you're daydreaming about my little cheerleader!" They exclaim, quickly sitting up on their haunches. I feel my cheeks heat up with the hint of a blush. 

"No, no not at all. I was just wondering if she was going to keep snoring every night," I laugh, earning a gentle pummeling from Blake. 

"Okay, okay. But I'm not stupid. I'm watching you," Blake mutters, giving me a wink and running off to go chase after Dylan, jumping strangely on his back.

 Uh-huh. And I'm watching you too, Blake. 

The rest of the day goes by rather uneventfully. While the kids are getting a tour of the camp-- familiar to some, and brand new to others, us counselors are each designated a duty outside of our cabin that we're in charge of. Rowan and I, some fucking how, are assigned to the kitchen. The one place I truly have no skill. 

"So let me get this straight," I mutter as Rowan leads us to the mess hall, my arms crossed. "We already are in charge of like-- waaay too many tiny lives, but on top of all that emotional and mental stress, we also have to cook for them?" I groan, feeling my positivity from earlier in the day quickly slipping away. 

"Ah, come on dude-- the campers are busy half the time doing other activities-- activities that we  don't have to supervise because we get to cook. Would you really rather go teach an arts-and-crafts class?" She cocks an eyebrow and swings the door open, waiting for me to reply. I groan. 

"Fine," I say, walking through the door. But you won't be putting me in a hair net!"

"Oh my god dude! You look like a grandma in that thing!" Blake leans over the lunch line, snapping at my hairnet with their spider-fingers while their newfound bros chortled around them. 

"Ha-ha," I say blankly. "Be careful what you say to me or I might put bug guts in your sloppy joe," I mutter, flinging a scoop onto their plate. Blake rolls their eyes. 'Hey, more protein for me-- right guys?" Dylan and his friends do a series of disturbing fist pumps, and I'm relieved when they finally make it down the line, far the fuck away from me.

Jesus. 

After feeding an army of kids, and a group of unappreciative teenagers wearing Birkenstocks, I was fucking beat. I slump down behind the lunch line and fling my hair net off. Rowan follows suit. 

"That was awful," I mutter, my head falling in between my hands. Rowan lets out a low sigh. 

"I will admit.. that might have been a little more difficult than I was expecting," She laughs, resting a hand on my knee. I instantly feel my body hum. 

"Um, don't do that.." I say instinctively, protecting myself. She furrows her brow at me, but removes her hand, blushing. Shit, I didn't mean to make her feel bad. I just, well, I don't want her to feel weird when she finds out I'm gay. 

"Sorry, I-- Uh. Well, we can wash the stress of today off in the shower, put the girls to bed and head off to the campfire, how does that sound?" She quickly changes the subject and clears the awkwardness from the air. She stands up and holds out a hand for me, but quickly removes it, as if I'd scared her off earlier. Fuck. I help myself up and grab her slender wrist, the best I can muster to say sorry for making things weird. 

"Sounds perfect," 

Soo, camp showers. Let's put it bluntly. They are not it. I've gone a few weeks without showering in my life, and I'd showered in some pretty nasty places that definitely maybe kind of sort of gave me foot fungus, but I mean-- come on. These prissy little girls are really supposed to shower here? Just them, ten thousand bugs, and the flimsiest curtains in the world to protect them? God, what are they even paying for?

"I know-- it seems a little scary, but we got here early-- that means hot water. Rowan smirks. She quickly starts undressing, and I can't help but to watch out of the corner of my eye. Jesus. Her body really is beautiful. She was tall, lean, tan, and her ass-- holy. 

"You okay?" Rowan asks, hovering outside of the shower, completely naked. My mouth is fucking agape as I stare at her. She cocks her head to the side and smirks. 

"Um, yeah. I just-- ha! Never been to camp, I didn't exactly expect you to be so.. brazen," I mumble, quickly removing my clothes and hopping in the stall next to her. Jesus, I needed a cold shower.

"Oh come on, I'm sure you're all super comfortable around each other at the group home," She laughs. I snort. 

"Ahhh, not really. It can be sort of a defensive atmosphere. Everyone's been through shit, and being naked is being vulnerable," I called to her over the stall, definitely sharing waaay too much information. 

"I get that," She replies, and then begins humming. I catch the hint that the conversation is over and try to wash my body as fast as possible, while touching as little as possible. I step out of the shower and Rowan immediately hands me a towel, already wrapped up in hers. 

"Thanks," I mumble, catching her staring at my toned stomach. I smirk. "What are you looking at?" I test the waters a little, genuinely curious as to how she would react. She quickly shakes her head, blushing slightly. 

"I guess I just didn't expect you to have abs," She mumbles, glancing away. I laugh. 

"Why not?" I ask, smiling at her fully. She finally glances back and makes eye contact with me, her blue eyes accentuated by her wet eyelashes. 

"Cause, you're so lazy," She winks, referring to my constant bemoaning throughout the day. I roll my eyes and start grabbing at my clothes. 

"Fair point. I try to look nice for the ladies," I say, smirking, once again testing the waters-- but also feeling my confidence grow as we shared this weirdly intimate moment. Her eyes darken with understanding, and I instantly feel my stomach drop. Shit. Too far. She's too straight--or Christian, or like, I don't know summer-campy?

"I guess it's working," She gives me a small smile and pulls her t-shirt over her boobs, not bothering to adorn a bra.