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“Cabin 8E is over on the other side of the camp,” Brody began as he and Matt made their way from the dining hall. “It’s part of Pine Ridge. The girls’ camp is over by the lake at Maple Hill. The guys and girls usually do everything together—arts and crafts, canoeing, games, whatever. But the girls’ cabins are off limits to the boys, and the girls shouldn’t be going into the boys’ either.”

Holding his backpack and pulling his luggage, Matt was glad his mom had found one of those new suitcases with wheels on the bottom. Keeping up with the camp counsellor would normally have been easy, but saddled with his bags and dragging the suitcase over uneven ground made it difficult. When Brody finally noticed, the older counsellor stopped and took the heavier bag.

“Every day we start with breakfast, then an activity,” Brody continued. “Today it’s arts and crafts. Some days it’s archery or canoeing. You’re going to really like this place. There’s so much to do.”

Trying to process all the new information, Matt huffed along, catching sight of the first aid cabin, the fire pit, and other larger cabins that were too far away to read the signs. Looking toward the edge of camp, he was amazed at the tall evergreen trees that seemed to guard the grounds. For a moment, he thought about the Ents from [i]Lord of the Rings[/i] and wondered if these trees were just as old.

When the two finally reached the cabin, Brody pushed open the door and let Matt go through. “Welcome to Cabin 8E, aka Dunlop.”

Matt stepped over the threshold into the empty cabin. Accepting his fate, he looked around the room. The bags of other campers were strewn about, a deck of cards sat on a table, and a Monopoly game rested on a shelf, both probably for rainy nights. Most of the bunks were covered with clothes, books, and magazines, so Matt walked over to one of the unused beds and asked, “Should I take this one?”

After dropping off their bags and getting settled, the two of them headed back to where they had started that morning. His mother’s car was long gone, and for a moment Matt felt a pang of homesickness. Seeing the grin on Brody’s face, he asked, “You said it was arts and crafts, right? I really don’t like that stuff. I once made a mask for Halloween and it looked more like a dead pumpkin than anything else.”

Brody laughed under his breath. “Don’t worry. Most of the older campers don’t do the glue sticks or markers or the glitter thing. We’ve got other things like wood carving, bracelet making if you’re into it, leatherwork sometimes, even painting. And if that still sounds like torture, you can usually find someone throwing or kicking a ball around outside instead.”

He glanced over with a half-smile. “No one’s forcing anyone to become an artist here.”

Finally reaching the craft hall, Matt looked up at the wooden cabin. Smaller than the dining hall but more than twice the size of his bunkhouse, he heard voices coming from inside and looked back at Brody.

“Good, because I can barely draw a stick person without messing it up,” he said. “Mine usually look kinda weird.”

Brody let out a short laugh and pushed the door open. “You’ll be fine. Come on.”