[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/yoBkm3v.png[/img][/center]

The sound was loud enough to make Matt jump. One long, loud blast boomed through the camp, and with the sound of the bullhorn, campers jumped from their seats and everyone started teeming toward the doorways.

“Canoes,” called out one of the girls.

Two of the boys nearby answered back, “Come on, let’s get to the red one. It’s the fastest.”

Unsure what to do, Matt looked back to Brody, hoping for some direction, but the counsellor was still focussed on the injured boys, helping them get to their feet. Turning back to the doorway, he saw every other kid moving through the doors and heading down to the beach. Squeezing his baseball glove a little harder, he pushed the ball deep into the palm and started to follow the crowd.

Shuffling slowly, Matt made his way through the door and down the stairs of the recreation cabin. Pausing for a moment, he watched the red-haired girl with the crazy-good artwork pass by, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders, knowing exactly where to go. Turning around, he looked back at the cabin. No one else was coming, and there was no choice but to continue.

Holding the baseball in his hand, Matt began to toss it into the air. Keeping one eye on the path ahead, he continued along the winding trail, but every step or two he lobbed the ball upward and counted the seconds until it landed back in his mitt. Distracted for a moment by the towering evergreen tress and the sights around him, he paused to take it all in. One more time, he threw it a little higher, and when it landed easily in his glove he looked up and noticed he had lost sight of the artist girl. He gripped the ball and started to jog a little faster toward the docks.

The winding trail began to slope downhill toward the lake, and the campers gathered together in groups, laughing and calling out to one another. With his destination in sight, Matt relaxed again, and every now and then he tossed the ball a little higher, his eyes following it before dropping back to the path.

Ahead of him, he spotted the red-haired girl from the crafts cabin. She walked at her own speed, her backpack slung over one shoulder, seemingly in no hurry to reach the docks.

Matt quickened his pace when he saw the canoes and heard the excitement near the water. Just as he reached the bottom of the hill, another kid darted across the trail in front of him. Matt sidestepped to avoid him, but his toe caught a tree root hidden beneath the pine needles, and he stumbled forward.
The baseball popped out of his hand, bounced once on the hard-packed path, skipped between two pairs of feet before rolling to a stop against the heel of the red-haired girl's running shoe.

Matt froze for half a second, wondering if anyone else had noticed.