This place sure seemed organized. I might stick around for a little bit, just out of curiosity.
As we drove to the orange sign, I could see large block letters spelling out FIERY FALCONS. What was that all about? Standing by it was someone who looked like she was in college, wearing a shirt that was tangerine bright, a smiling bird printed on the front—a falcon, but it looked a little goofy. The counselor, I guess, had long, rocking braids and wore a metallic-looking hard plastic brace on her left leg.
“She looks a little old to be a camper,” Mom mused. “I thought this session was for kids Melody’s age—eleven to fourteen.”
The orange T-shirt girl beamed as we slowed up and gave her our names. “Greetings, folks! I’m Trinity, and I’ll be Melody’s camp counselor this week.” She waved to me specifically. “Welcome to Green Glades, Melody! I’m so glad you’ll be one of our Fiery Falcons.”
Dad opened and closed his mouth without saying anything but got himself together quickly. “Uh, glad to meet you, Trinity! Forgive me, but I thought you were a camper.”
“Well, I was—when I was a teenager,” she said with a laugh. “I came with my little sister—” Now she looked right at me. “She has cerebral palsy too. And I loved it so much, I kept coming back as a volunteer, and I’ve been a full counselor for four years now. I just arrived this morning as well—we work on rotating weekly shifts, so we always have our best energy for our campers.” She pulled over a cart from a cluster of them behind her. “Here, you can unload Melody’s stuff onto this, and it will get taken to our cabin.”
Mom and Dad were too polite to pry any deeper, but I had about a million questions already. Like can a person swim in a brace like that? And what was her story?
Just as Dad opened the back of the SUV, Penny announced, “I gotta pee!” Trinity pointed to a nearby building, and Mom hustled off with her.
After he unloaded my wheelchair, Dad unbuckled my seat belt and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I know you’re nervous, baby girl,” he murmured, “but I’ve got a good feeling about this.” Then he lifted me effortlessly and settled me into the cushioned seat of my chair.
I looked around. It was, well, even greener than I expected, though the online descriptions were colorfully specific. Tall maple trees lined the paths, and I could see a forest of pines just beyond. I counted at least four sturdy-looking wooden cabins ahead of us, and another four across the road. They looked like they’d been made out of Lincoln Logs, a building toy Penny sometimes played with.
A few other early-bird campers—one in a wheelchair like me—and some counselors sat outside a couple of the cabins; they waved when I checked them out.
As I waved back, I wondered about the girl in the wheelchair. Was she worrying about the same stuff I was? Like, what if I got stung by a hornet? What if there was a tornado? What if there were bears? What if I fell down a mountainside? What if this counselor couldn’t handle me? What if…?
But as Dad was adjusting my straps and connecting Elvira, Trinity hunkered down beside me. She looked into my rapidly blinking eyes with her dark ones. “I know you’re probably feeling a little skittish right now, Melody. You probably want to turn around and go back home. But give it one day, okay? Just one day.”
How the heck did she know? Was this how most campers felt on the first day? Was this normal? A little buzz ran through me—was I doing something normal? I looked directly back at her and nodded—slowly. Besides, only part of me wanted to go back home!
When Mom and Penny came back, Mom proceeded to snap a zillion pictures with her cell phone. Me with Penny. Me with Dad. Me with Penny and Dad. Me with Trinity. Penny with Trinity. Gahhhhh!
“We’ll be taking a ton of photos for you, Mrs. Brooks,” Trinity assured her. “We’ve hired a photographer! We’ll have a packet for you on the last day. I promise.”
“Oh, I love knowing that!” my mother said, a little bit of happy finally creeping into her voice.
“Our pleasure! Now let me give you a quick tour.”
“You got lions and tigers here?” Penny asked. “You sure got a lot of bushes and trees! This place looks like a real forest! With wolves!”
Trinity didn’t laugh at her. Instead she replied gently, “They all moved away last year—every one! They packed up and moved to California. You sister is safe with me!”
Penny still gave her a side-eye; I had to swallow my chuckle.
Trinity then showed us the cabin I’d be in, which was bigger inside than it looked like it would be. But it looked so… empty. But, whoa—bunk beds! I’d never slept in a bunk bed before!
There were two bunks on the left and two on the right. The bottom ones were all floor level. Trinity showed Mom and Dad the rails that would prevent me from falling out of bed. I rolled my eyes in a I’m not a baby sort of way. But Mom, of course, gave the rails a hard shake and a huge smile of approval.
Trinity then pulled out drawers and opened closet space we had not noticed. “This is where we hide our stuff!” she explained with a laugh. “You’ve probably read this on our website, but, to reiterate, we’ll have four girls in our cabin, and each camper has her own counselor, who stays in the cabin twenty-four/seven.”
Even though Mom had indeed read that online, it seemed to make her deliriously happy to hear it in person. I’m thinking that eight people in one cabin might be kinda crowded.
“Each cabin,” Trinity went on to explain, “mostly does things together—we find that campers bond best that way.” Mom was still nodding with approval. I was just hoping I’d like these kids! And… that they’d like me.
Trinity then showed us the director’s office—photos of smiling campers filled the walls top to bottom. When we went back outside, she pointed out with excitement what she called the fire pit, which was not very impressive—just a pile of dirt and charcoal and burnt sticks.