Chapter 5

There’s a point where camp stops feeling like something you arrived at, and starts feeling like something you’re just inside of.

Like it’s always been there, like real life is the weird part.

“KENNEDY, SHE STOLE MY BRUSH.”

“I did not,” another voice fires back immediately.

“I saw you.”

“You hallucinated.”

I don’t even open my eyes. “Give it back,” I say.

A pause, then the sound of something being tossed.

“Thank you,” I mutter, dragging a pillow over my head.

Cabin Pine. Eight sixteen-year-old girls. 

Me and Annabelle. No survivors.

By the time we get to breakfast, I’ve already broken up two arguments, helped someone find their missing sock, and been asked “can I go to the bathroom?” four separate times.

I sit down at the leadership staff table and immediately drop my head onto the table.

“I’m retiring,” I mumble.

“You’re 18,” Tanner says.

“Early retirement.”

He slides me a piece of toast. “Eat.”

I take it without lifting my head. “Thank you.”

Jude leans over. “Rough morning?”

“She woke up at 6:15 on purpose.”

Reid snorts. “That’s on you. You showed weakness.”

“I smiled once,” I say. “Once.”

“Fatal mistake,” Tanner nods.

From across the table—

“Late.”

I don’t even move.

“No.”

I didn’t even realize Quinn’s sitting across from me.

“It’s 8:02,” she says. “Breakfast started at 8, you should be early.”

“I’ve already lived a full life today.”

Kallie drops into the seat beside her. “She looks like she fought a bear.”

“I would’ve won,” I say into the table.

“Debatable,” Quinn replies.

I finally lift my head just enough to glare at her.

“You’re obsessed with humbling me.”

“You make it easy.”

I take a bite of toast. “You’re so annoying.”

She shrugs. “You’ll live.”

Activity period one is archery, which sounds peaceful.

But it’s not.

“Okay—no—no—don’t point that at her—hey—HEY—”

I grab the bow just in time to redirect it away from another camper’s face.

“Safety,” I say, forcing a smile. “We love safety.”

Annabelle is across the field, fully laughing.

“I hate you,” I mouth, she blows me a kiss.

By activity period two, I’m at the waterfront.

Finally, back in my domain.

“Alright,” I call, clapping once. “Lifejackets on, no exceptions, I don’t care if you ‘feel like a strong swimmer,’ that means nothing to me.”

One of my campers groans. “Kennedyyy—”

“No,” I say. “I value your life more than you do. Vest.”

She sighs dramatically but listens.

Quinn walks past me, she mutters, “You’re bossy.”

I grin. “Learned from the best.” I say under my breath.

And immediately—

I feel it, I turn around slowly.

Quinn’s standing up on the path above the waterfront, talking to the camp directer, but her eyes flick down for half a second.

She heard that, of course she did.

He says something that makes her laugh, head tipping back slightly. 

It’s— Different, less controlled.

Lunch is chaos, but good chaos.

Everyone’s loud, sunburnt, starving.

This time, I sit at Emily and Caitlyn’s table.

“I almost got taken out by a canoe,” Emily says.

“That was you?” Caitlyn laughs. “I saw that.”

“I recovered,” Emily defends.

“You fell into the water.”

“I recovered after.”

I steal fries off her plate. “Proud of you.”

She slaps my hand. “Get your own.”

“Sharing is caring.”

“Not with you.”

The concept of rest hour is fake.

No one rests.

My campers are begging me to braid their hair, thats what you get when your the designated camp braider. Im playing music quietly, focusing on the side convos.

Im relaxed, until I hear “Do you have a camp crush?”

I look up from the braid im working on.

Eight faces staring at me.

Absolutely not.

“No.”

“That was too fast,” one says.

“Yeah,” another adds. “Suspicious.”

“I don’t,” I say.

“Okay but if you did—”

“I don’t.”

A pause.

“…Quinn.”

I sit up, fast.

“No.”

Eight identical grins.

“NO,” I repeat.

“Okay but you said it like—”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You reacted.”

“I reacted because you’re wrong.”

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

“sure.”

I go back to my braid, wanting to die. “Go to sleep.”

They don’t, obviously.

Afternoon activities blur together.

Heat. Running around. Sunscreen that doesn’t work.

At one point I end up helping with crafts, which is a mistake.

“Is this good?” a camper asks, holding up something that looks… abstract.

“It’s amazing,” I say immediately.

“Really?”

“No idea what it is, but yes.”

She beams, worth it.

Free time hits like a reward.

I’m back at the waterfront, sitting on the dock with my feet in the water, finally not responsible for anyone for like… ten minutes.

Milo flops down beside me. “I’m dead.”

“Same.”

“I got hit in the face with a volleyball.”

“Deserved?”

“Probably.”

We sit in silence for a second.

Then—

“Hey,” he says, nudging me. “Don’t look obvious.”

“I’m already not looking.”

“Quinns been watching you all day.”

I freeze.

“I hate you.”

“I’m serious.”

I risk a glance, she’s down by the boats, talking to Kallie again.

Not looking at me, obviously.

“See?” I say.

Milo snorts. “You just missed it.”

“Convenient.”

“Believe what you want.”

I do, because that’s easier.

Dinner turns into one of those long, loud ones.

Someone starts a chant, then it spreads.

Now the whole dining hall is yelling something completely stupid in unison.

Our director stands up on a chair, clapping along. “THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS—KEEP GOING.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

Across the room Quinns’s watching.

Not the crowd.

Me. Again.

And this time she doesn’t look away when I notice.

She just holds it for a second, confidently.

Then—a small nod.

I look down at my plate, face now red.

Because that did something, and I don’t like that it did.

That night we have a bonfire.

Finally something calmer.

Campers sitting in a circle, fire crackling, stars starting to come out.

I’m between Annabelle and one of my campers, helping her roast a marshmallow without lighting it on fire.

“Slow,” I say. “Patience.”

“It’s not working.”

“It is, you’re just impatient.”

“Like you?”

“Exactly like me.”

She laughs.

Annabelle leans over. “You’re good at this.”

“Don’t tell them,” I say quietly. “I have a reputation.”

“For what?”

“Being cool.”

She snorts. “You lost that day one.”

“Rude.”

Later, as things wind down, campers drifting back to cabins—

I hang back for a second, just watching the fire.

“Good day?”

I don’t turn.

“Yeah,” I say. “Busy.”

Quinn steps up beside me.

Not too close, but not far either.

“You handled your cabin well,” she says.

I glance at her. “You were watching?”

“Part of my job.”

“Right.”

A pause. Then—

“You’re good with them.”

It’s simple, not teasing, not sarcastic.

Just—true.

I look back at the fire. “They’re easy.”

“They’re not.”

I smile slightly. “You’re right.”

Another pause, quieter this time.

“You still annoying?” I ask.

She huffs a small laugh. “Consistently.”

“Good.”

She glances at me. “You too.”

“Obviously.”

We stand there for a second longer.

Comfortable.

Which feels—

New.

And maybe a little dangerous.

When I finally get back to my cabin, crawl into bed, everything aches in that satisfying, exhausted way.

My campers are already half asleep.

Annabelle mumbles, “You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Same as every night.

But now, it’s not just moments, it’s everything in between.

The looks.

The comments.

The way shes just there, in my day, way more than she should be. More than makes sense.

I shift onto my side, pulling the blanket up.

This is still nothing.

Still early.

Still—

Fine.

But it’s not just tension anymore, it’s familiarity.

And that’s worse.

Because that’s how something starts.