Lady Arya

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

@ShankySpice
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Piper McAllister...

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Piper glanced up from her painting when she heard the chair scrape across the wooden floor.The girl with the skateboard dropped into the seat beside her, setting down a bag before looking over at the lake scene Piper had been working on. At first, Piper worried she'd accidentally been staring. It happened sometimes when she was concentrating.

"Uh, sure, yeah..” she said shaking the fog from her brain, before tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. When the girl mentioned her painting not being nearly as good, Piper immediately looked down at the table. She never really knew what to do when people complimented her artwork. Just say thank you, the voice in her head stated.

“Thank you…” she said quietly. Piper gave a slight nod and pushed some of the supplies over to the girl. She watched as they stared at the paint supplies like they might suddenly reveal the answer.They looked nervous. Not obvious nervous. The kind people tried to hide. Piper recognized it because she spent most of her life feeling exactly the same way.

“Any suggestions?” The girl had asked with a smile.

Piper stared out into the cabin, thinking, watching the other kids. Her eyes drifted over to the oblivious kid, who seemed to have come across a whittling knife. Was he old enough to use that? Piper wondered but soon realized she had slipped off somewhere else and not answered the girls question. She wasn’t sure how to answer it. Anything. They could draw stick people or the name of their cabin. Piper gestured toward a table where someone had somehow managed to cover an entire canvas in pink swirls and glitter.

“Please no glitter. However, I think you paint whatever you want. Art is objective, as long as you’re happy. Well, so my dad says anyway…” Piper shrugged giving the girl a vague response with a friendly smile.

"I'm Piper, by the way. Do you want a bracelet? I have a ton...” She set down her paint brush and reached for own bag. Sliding out a zip lock bag with at least twenty bracelets. Unsure where this bravery came from but the skateboard girl made her feel comfortable. That was important.

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

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Piper McAllister...

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While the counselor had mentioned the example crafts around the room, it was really all about what they could do. Let the imagination run free so to speak. Piper took that to heart. She immediately went to the paint and paint brushes. Her step mother would never allow it in the house. Too risky and it could spill, she would mutter. As she began her own little project, the craft cabin buzzed with conversation around her, girls laughing and talking as they worked on their projects. Every so often a burst of laughter would rise above the noise before fading back into the steady hum of activity. She dipped her brush into blue paint and carefully dragged it across the wooden panel in front of her. Piper decided to paint the view from the dock that morning. She tilted her head, studying the brushstrokes before adding a little more green along the shoreline.

Across the room, several girls from her cabin were gathered around the same table. They seemed completely at ease with one another despite only meeting three days ago. Piper watched them for a moment before looking back down at her project. Maybe they weren't as comfortable as they looked. Maybe everyone was pretending. Still, they made it look easy. She wasn't sure she'd ever been good at that sort of thing. At school she'd always had friends, but usually one or two close ones. The girls in her cabin seemed to operate in packs, constantly talking, constantly laughing, somehow always knowing the right thing to say. Piper usually thought of the right thing to say three hours later.

She added another stroke of paint to the water. Part of her wondered if the other girls thought she was weird. The girl who woke up before sunrise. The girl who carried a sketchbook everywhere. The girl who had spent breakfast drawing instead of talking. Maybe they thought she didn't want to be around them. The truth was she just never knew how to join in. Conversation felt a little like jumping onto a moving canoe. Everyone else seemed to know when to step in. Piper was always afraid she'd miss and end up in the water. A sudden burst of laughter pulled her attention back across the room.

”Do you think this looks more purple or blue?”

Piper blinked. For a second she wondered if they were talking to someone else. Then realized they were all looking at her. She glanced at the painted bracelet box being held up.

"Blue," she answered. The girls immediately groaned.

”I told you it was blue!"

”No way, that's purple!”

The argument continued without missing a beat. Piper smiled despite herself and returned to her painting. The exchange lasted less than ten seconds. But somehow it made the room feel a little less intimidating. Maybe fitting in wasn't something that happened all at once. Maybe it happened in small pieces. She wasn't sure yet if the rest of the WildFlower cabin would become her friends. But as she sat among the sounds of conversation and laughter, adding sunlight to the painted lake on her wooden panel, she realized she wasn't feeling quite as alone as she had that morning. And for now, that was enough.

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

@KillamriX08
I would say yes, it's allowed. I mentioned Sarah...and she is free for everyone to use and interact with. :)

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

I definitely need to reread as well, but I’m being lazy…

@deegee

This is what I have:

Sunbeams
Max

7E - Wildflowers
Counselor: Sarah
Piper

8F - Stirling
JJ

8E - Dunlop
Counselor: Brody
Dexter
Matty

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

Ignore this... I need to go reread..

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

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Piper McAllister...

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The path from the dining hall to the craft cabin wound through the center of Camp Wyaconda, cutting between towering pines and weathered wooden buildings that had probably stood there for decades. Campers streamed along the trail in small groups, talking excitedly about the day's activities. Some heading down to the lake, others the large rec fields, or archery. All depending what your cabin schedule was. Piper walked alone, taking her time, stopping occasionally to admire a wildflower or glance toward the lake sparkling through the trees. As she passed the camp's gravel parking lot, movement caught her eye. A dusty blue station wagon had just pulled in. Standing beside it was a boy about her age. Maybe thirteen. Hair that looked like it had been hastily brushed this morning, a duffel bag being pulled from the back, a backpack slung over his shoulder. His expression wasn’t happy, as a woman—his mother, Piper guessed—pulled him into one last hug.

For a brief moment, Piper felt a pang in her chest. She remembered her own drop-off two days ago. Her dad had wanted to linger. She'd wanted him to linger. Instead, they'd awkwardly stood beside his truck, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye. Eventually he'd hugged her and promised she'd have fun. Then watched his truck disappear down the road. The memory faded as a camp counselor appeared from the direction of the office, making their way toward the late camper. Piper continued on toward the craft cabin.

The cabin sat tucked beneath a cluster of enormous pine trees. Unlike most of the camp buildings, its walls were painted bright green and decorated with hand-painted wooden signs. Wind chimes made from painted driftwood hung from the porch, clinking softly in the breeze. The moment Piper stepped inside, she knew she'd like it. The cabin smelled like fresh-cut wood, paint, glue, and old books. Sunlight poured through large windows, illuminating rows of long wooden tables covered in supplies. Mason jars overflowed with colored pencils, markers, paintbrushes, and scissors. Shelves lined every wall, packed with craft projects from campers over the years—birdhouses, friendship bracelets, clay sculptures, painted rocks, and wooden signs bearing names from summers long past. One entire wall displayed sketches, paintings, and photographs created by campers. Another held bins full of beads, yarn, leather cord, and every imaginable art supply.

Piper slowly turned in place. It felt less like a classroom and more like an artist's treasure chest. The other campers started to trickle in, taking note of the more interesting ones. A girl, with a skateboard in tow, how she was riding it on the paths, was impressive. A smaller kid, glasses, who seemed to be at the wrong camp, rather than one for smart kids. Another, straight out of a farm. Camp life seemed odd for him to be there she thought. Then another, shrimp like, who looked confused. She made her way toward a nearby table, setting her bag on top. Out of the last three years of camp, this summer seems like a good adventure was brewing.

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

@KillamriX08

1. Don’t think too much. I never have a full feeling of my character at the start. It will come.

2. Bring the gameboy. You might find other campers that have them! (Even if it’s not the main)

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

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Piper McAllister...

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Piper claimed her usual seat at the end of bench, which was nearest to the window. A place that gave her a view of both the lake and the bustle of camp life. Around her, campers filled in the large space and the room buzzed with energy that felt far too loud this early in the morning. She barely noticed. Her sketchbook laid open beside her breakfast tray, one hand absentmindedly picking at a pancake while the other grabbed her pencil from behind her ear. The sunrise she'd started on the dock was nearly finished now. Soft shading filled the pine trees while delicate strokes captured the reflection dancing across Shady Lake. A shadow suddenly fell across the table.

”Morning, Cabin 7E, aka The Wildflowers.”

Piper looked up to find their cabin counselor standing beside them. Sarah couldn't have been more than twenty. She wore a faded Camp Wyaconda staff shirt, hiking boots, and a smile that somehow looked awake despite the early hour. Several campers groaned.

Sarah laughed, holding up a clipboard. ”Don't look so excited. Day three is going to be exciting as day two. Today’s activities. ” That immediately got everyone's attention. Sarah cleared her throat dramatically.

“After breakfast, Arts and Crafts.” A few girls cheered. Piper looked mildly interested. At least she'd have access to supplies.

”After that," Sarah continued, “Canoeing lessons, down at the lake.” That earned a mix of cheers.

”Lunch at noon, followed by archery. Then some free time before dinner. After dinner, we will have our typical fellowship at the campfire.” As Sarah finished up, the girls began to clear the table, the counselor noticed Piper's sketchbook before stepping away.

“Did you draw that this morning?"

Piper nodded. The counselor studied the page for a moment.

“That's really good."

“Thanks." She spoke staring down at her own sketch.

Sarah smiled before moving on to the next cabin. Piper added one final line to the shoreline before she placed her pencil back behind her ear and packed up her things. She followed in behind the rest of the ‘Wildflowers’ toward the craft building.

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

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Piper McAllister...

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The cabin looked like a tornado had rolled through sometime during the night. Scattered across the floor were old magazines of Tiger Beat, fashion catalogs, pages of celebrity quizzes crumpled beneath dangling socks and half-open duffel bags. Lip gloss and nail polish bottles cluttered every flat surface while the scent of fruity perfume still lingered thick in the warm summer air. The girls in 7E had stayed up most of the night whispering and laughing beneath flashlight glow, braiding each other’s hair, trading makeup, and arguing over which boy counselor was cutest. Piper had pretended to sleep through most of it, headphones in but no music playing, listening quietly from the safety of her bunk.

Her corner of the cabin was the complete opposite. Clothes folded neatly. Hiking boots lined perfectly beneath her bed. Sketchbook stacked squarely on top of her backpack. Every pencil sharpened and tucked into its case. Order made her feel calm, and although it was her third year at Wyaconda, the place still felt choatic.

Long before sunrise, Piper slipped quietly from the cabin while everyone else slept tangled in blankets. The morning air was cool against her skin as she made her way down to Shady Lake. Mist hovered low over the water while the first streaks of orange and pink bled into the sky. Sitting cross-legged at the edge of the dock, Piper opened her sketchbook onto her knees and began drawing. The gentle ripple of water. The crooked pine trees. The reflection of sunrise across the lake. This was her favorite thing in the world. Moments when nobody expected anything from her except to exist quietly beside nature. After sometime, the sharp clang of the breakfast bell echoed through camp. Piper blinked, surprised by how quickly time had passed. Sliding her pencil behind her ear, she closed the sketchbook carefully and stood. Slinging her bag over one shoulder, she headed up the winding dirt trail toward the dining hall.

Camp was finally waking up around her. Cabin doors creaked open while sleepy campers shuffled along the paths in oversized hoodies and pajama pants. Counselors called good mornings from porches. The smell of bacon, syrup, and burnt toast drifted through the crisp air, making Piper realize just how hungry she was. The dining hall buzzed with noise when she stepped inside. Trays clattered, kids laughed too loudly, and every table seemed packed with campers talking over one another.

Piper grabbed a tray and moved through the breakfast line quietly, taking pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a cup of orange juice before spotting the hand-painted 7E sign hanging above one of the long wooden tables. Most of the girls from her cabin were already there, still half exhausted from staying up all night. One braided another girl’s hair while someone else flipped through a magazine spread across the table beside a plate of waffles.

Piper slid quietly into the empty spot near the end of the bench, setting her sketchbook carefully beside her tray. For a moment she simply listened, unnoticed in the chaos around her, taking small bites of pancakes while the sounds of Camp Wyaconda carried on all around her.

Camp Wyaconda, August 1991

I also figured, one of us needs to be some type of counselor. Don't worry... I will be the "cool" one.