Camp Rhodes Kerfuffle
“Okay kids! Now that you’ve had yer breakfast, it’s time for the Camp Rhodes Initiation Gauntlet to be thrown. I, your team captain, Steve, hereby take this,” Steve foisted a thick, long, leather gardening glove. The children gathered gasped in excitement.
“I hereby take this, and I throw it down! The gauntlet is down!” Steve shouted.
The children cheered.
“Hey, Zach?” Angela tapped the shoulder of the boy next to her. “Zach, this is kinda cheesy.”
“Well, yeah. That’s the point of Camp Rhodes. ‘All that cheese makes great summer stories’ is their motto after all.” Zach gave a smile.
Angela shuddered. Already, sleepaway camp was decidedly the worst choice Angela’s dad had made for her summer vacation. Did he have to pick this one?
Angela insisted that she’d be perfectly happy at home playing Pokémon Sword on the Switch or take a sketching class at the art center downtown. But no, her dad insisted that going to a sleepaway camp at Lake Bearpaw was a better idea.
“No internet, no cell reception, nothing but fresh air, adventure, and children your age. You need to try something new this summer, and Camp Rhodes is the best bet,” Angela’s dad said.
Truthfully, Angela knew she was sent to summer camp because it gave her dad freedom to work 120-hour work weeks without having to worry about a child at home alone. But Angela preferred solitude to group activities. Besides, the Switch was a perfectly fine babysitter for an eleven-year-old, and Pokémon Sword was just sitting there not being played. Angela and her dad also lived two blocks from the library, and she could just go there if she got lonely. Which Angela was certain she wouldn’t.
The sound of Steve’s coughing brought Angela back to the present.
“Don’t try that at home, kids!” he said. Campers laughed, and Angela looked to Zach for clarity. Steve looked like he was smoldering, or at least like his pants were.
“If your pants catch fire, simply jump in the lake. Or you can drop and roll on the ground.”
“Steve’s fire safety instructions get me every time,” Zach laughed. “Lighting his pants on fire never ceases to make me laugh.”
“Clearly, this is a horrible nightmare,” Angela sighed. What kind of counselor lights his own clothing on fire?
“Right, so do we need to review water safety? Anyone here not know how to swim?” Steve asked, giving just the slightest pause before continuing. “Of course, yeh know. Moving on! Let’s run the gauntlet then, shall we?”
Some of the children cheered.
“Oh God, why did I let Dad send me here?” Angela sighed.
“Don’t worry, it gets even better,” Zach said with a smile. “I bet we’re going to go on-“
“Attention, Initiates!” Steve called. His pants were no longer smoking. “It’s time! Grab a bag, rubber bands, and get into groups of two. We’re going on a snipe hunt!”
Angela balled her hands into fists.
“Nope,” she said. She turned around and stomped back toward the main cabin. “I’m NOT going to do this, I don’t care if I have to walk the three hundred seventy miles back home. I’m NOT staying!”
“Oh come on, Angela! It’s only the first day of camp. Snipe hunts are the best! You’ve gotta believe me. I caught six last summer!” Zach ran to catch up to Angela.
“Nope!” Angela said. “Snipe hunts are stupid, and I refuse to go on one.” With that, she made her way to the main cabin, intent on calling her dad. Or Uber. She didn’t care, she was going home.
“Please?” Zach caught up with Angela, tagging her on the shoulder before doubling over panting. “You walk fast,” he wheezed.
“Fine,” Angela said. She gave a little smirk. “But only because I’ve totally wanted to go snipe hunting. Those little buggers are obnoxious. How do we do this? With rubber bands? Bb guns? Slingshot? Note my sarcasm, Zach? I’m only agreeing to this because you’re my frie-”
“Easy there, cowgirl!” Steve said, approaching Angela and Zach. “You didn’t think you’d go snipe huntin’ without yer tackle, did ya?”
Steve held out a pillow case, and a wad of rubber bands. Angela snatched the rubber bands out of Steve’s hand, and pocketed them. She nodded to Zach, who had finally caught his breath.
“You sure you don’t want to bag em, Newbie?” Steve asked. He winked at Zach, who couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, besides. I bet I’m a better shot than you anyway.”
“I doubt it. I won three blue ribbons in the rifle competition 4-H held at the Alameda County Fair last summer. I have a very good aim,” Angela smiled.
Steve shrugged and handed the pillowcase to Zach. “Good luck,” he whispered. Zach’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t want pillowcase duty again this year.
“Let’s go,” Zach said. “But Angela? Could we may be split the duties fifty-fifty? Like, you bag two snipes, and I bag two? You won’t be sorry.”
“Ugh, fine! We can make a contest out of it.” Angela pulled out a few rubber bands from her pocket and handed them to Zach. “Whoever gets two first doesn’t have to carry the bag. Aaaand…. Go!”
Angela sprinted up the hill.
“But wait! Snipes are down by the lake, not up by the cabins!” Zach protested.
Angela screeched to a halt. She called down. “Suit yourself. Meet here in an hour, okay? I’ll just stow my snipes in my hoodie pocket. May the best camper win!”
Angela took off at full speed, leaving Zach in a spray of dead leaves and pine needles. He sighed and made his way down toward the lake.
“I’ll prove her wrong,” he whispered. Truthfully, Zach had never seen a snipe, much less caught six like he boasted. He did make sure to look up snipes on Wikipedia before leaving for summer camp. Last year, his partner claimed to have caught six, but Zach was sure that boy was a liar. According to Wikipedia, snipes are little brown birds with long beaks. They wade in shallow waters and mud, searching for larva, snails and worms. Clearly, Angela had no idea what a snipe was, or else she’d be in tow, looking along the banks of Lake Bearpaw.
When Zach arrived at the edge of the lake, he saw only one other camper. Zach raised his hand to wave, and as the other camper tried to wave in return, Zach heard a scream before the camper disappeared. Zach took off at a sprint toward the last place he saw the other camper. When he arrived, he dropped his pillowcase in alarm. The other child was struggling in the muddy water.
“Help!” Zach called. He offered his hand to the struggling camper. “Can you take my hand? I’ll help you out of the lake.”
“I can’t swim!” was the reply. The camper tried to reach for Zach’s hand. Zach tried to grab on, but the slippery hand caused Zach to falter, lose balance, and fall into the water.
“Aargh!” Zach tried to reach for the other camper, who was clearly struggling in the water. “You have to calm down,” Zach said. “You need to calm down and move toward the bank. Also, why didn’t you tell Steve you couldn’t swim?”
“I raised my hand when he asked!” the other camper shouted, then coughed. “I was on the bank, and the mud gave way. There’s a sinkhole! Where are the counselors anyway? This snipe hunt is a stupid activity!”
Zach heard the sound of squishy footsteps, accompanied by high pitched voices. “Right there, I saw both of them fall in, one by one!”
Angela.
“Zach, hold on. We’ll get the two of you out. And then, this camp will be hearing from my father.”
Zach felt something on his hands, which were by this point, very cold. It was a rope. He grabbed the camper’s hand next to him and shoved the rope into the open palm.
“Grab on,” Zach said. The camper did.
Minutes later, two waterlogged campers sat on a bench, cups of hot cocoa in their hands. A woman in a Camp Rhodes T-shirt stood a few feet away, yelling at Steve.
“This is grossly incompetent, and not how we do things here!” She bellowed.
“But we’ve done this snipe hunt every year, it’s a first day tradition!” Steve’s voice squeaked in a threatened falsetto.
“Well, this is the last time. Two campers were endangered because you did not set up boundaries, nor follow up on the site inspection! A snipe hunt? Steve, is this 1964? Snipe hunts are just a cruel joke! If this camper here,” the woman gestured toward Angela, “had not come up to the office, we could have LOST LIVES! You’re fired. Now pack your gear, and turn in your keys to HR. You’re outta here!”
“Boom!” Angela whispered, the faintest smile flickered on her face. “Zach, I’m sorry I left you behind. I- went to the main office. I wanted to go home. Then I heard you shout and I called for the campsite director. Snipe hunts aren’t real, and it’s a stupid prank that counselor pulled.”
“Snipes are real though,” Zach protested.
“Not in California. I did a report on snipes for 4-H last year.” Angela sighed. “Honestly, I’d go home, but I think someone has to look out for you and the others,” Angela said. “Might as well be me.”
“Thanks,” the waterlogged camper said.
“Thanks, Ang,” Zach said.
Angela shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”
“I hereby take this, and I throw it down! The gauntlet is down!” Steve shouted.
The children cheered.
“Hey, Zach?” Angela tapped the shoulder of the boy next to her. “Zach, this is kinda cheesy.”
“Well, yeah. That’s the point of Camp Rhodes. ‘All that cheese makes great summer stories’ is their motto after all.” Zach gave a smile.
Angela shuddered. Already, sleepaway camp was decidedly the worst choice Angela’s dad had made for her summer vacation. Did he have to pick this one?
Angela insisted that she’d be perfectly happy at home playing Pokémon Sword on the Switch or take a sketching class at the art center downtown. But no, her dad insisted that going to a sleepaway camp at Lake Bearpaw was a better idea.
“No internet, no cell reception, nothing but fresh air, adventure, and children your age. You need to try something new this summer, and Camp Rhodes is the best bet,” Angela’s dad said.
Truthfully, Angela knew she was sent to summer camp because it gave her dad freedom to work 120-hour work weeks without having to worry about a child at home alone. But Angela preferred solitude to group activities. Besides, the Switch was a perfectly fine babysitter for an eleven-year-old, and Pokémon Sword was just sitting there not being played. Angela and her dad also lived two blocks from the library, and she could just go there if she got lonely. Which Angela was certain she wouldn’t.
The sound of Steve’s coughing brought Angela back to the present.
“Don’t try that at home, kids!” he said. Campers laughed, and Angela looked to Zach for clarity. Steve looked like he was smoldering, or at least like his pants were.
“If your pants catch fire, simply jump in the lake. Or you can drop and roll on the ground.”
“Steve’s fire safety instructions get me every time,” Zach laughed. “Lighting his pants on fire never ceases to make me laugh.”
“Clearly, this is a horrible nightmare,” Angela sighed. What kind of counselor lights his own clothing on fire?
“Right, so do we need to review water safety? Anyone here not know how to swim?” Steve asked, giving just the slightest pause before continuing. “Of course, yeh know. Moving on! Let’s run the gauntlet then, shall we?”
Some of the children cheered.
“Oh God, why did I let Dad send me here?” Angela sighed.
“Don’t worry, it gets even better,” Zach said with a smile. “I bet we’re going to go on-“
“Attention, Initiates!” Steve called. His pants were no longer smoking. “It’s time! Grab a bag, rubber bands, and get into groups of two. We’re going on a snipe hunt!”
Angela balled her hands into fists.
“Nope,” she said. She turned around and stomped back toward the main cabin. “I’m NOT going to do this, I don’t care if I have to walk the three hundred seventy miles back home. I’m NOT staying!”
“Oh come on, Angela! It’s only the first day of camp. Snipe hunts are the best! You’ve gotta believe me. I caught six last summer!” Zach ran to catch up to Angela.
“Nope!” Angela said. “Snipe hunts are stupid, and I refuse to go on one.” With that, she made her way to the main cabin, intent on calling her dad. Or Uber. She didn’t care, she was going home.
“Please?” Zach caught up with Angela, tagging her on the shoulder before doubling over panting. “You walk fast,” he wheezed.
“Fine,” Angela said. She gave a little smirk. “But only because I’ve totally wanted to go snipe hunting. Those little buggers are obnoxious. How do we do this? With rubber bands? Bb guns? Slingshot? Note my sarcasm, Zach? I’m only agreeing to this because you’re my frie-”
“Easy there, cowgirl!” Steve said, approaching Angela and Zach. “You didn’t think you’d go snipe huntin’ without yer tackle, did ya?”
Steve held out a pillow case, and a wad of rubber bands. Angela snatched the rubber bands out of Steve’s hand, and pocketed them. She nodded to Zach, who had finally caught his breath.
“You sure you don’t want to bag em, Newbie?” Steve asked. He winked at Zach, who couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, besides. I bet I’m a better shot than you anyway.”
“I doubt it. I won three blue ribbons in the rifle competition 4-H held at the Alameda County Fair last summer. I have a very good aim,” Angela smiled.
Steve shrugged and handed the pillowcase to Zach. “Good luck,” he whispered. Zach’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t want pillowcase duty again this year.
“Let’s go,” Zach said. “But Angela? Could we may be split the duties fifty-fifty? Like, you bag two snipes, and I bag two? You won’t be sorry.”
“Ugh, fine! We can make a contest out of it.” Angela pulled out a few rubber bands from her pocket and handed them to Zach. “Whoever gets two first doesn’t have to carry the bag. Aaaand…. Go!”
Angela sprinted up the hill.
“But wait! Snipes are down by the lake, not up by the cabins!” Zach protested.
Angela screeched to a halt. She called down. “Suit yourself. Meet here in an hour, okay? I’ll just stow my snipes in my hoodie pocket. May the best camper win!”
Angela took off at full speed, leaving Zach in a spray of dead leaves and pine needles. He sighed and made his way down toward the lake.
“I’ll prove her wrong,” he whispered. Truthfully, Zach had never seen a snipe, much less caught six like he boasted. He did make sure to look up snipes on Wikipedia before leaving for summer camp. Last year, his partner claimed to have caught six, but Zach was sure that boy was a liar. According to Wikipedia, snipes are little brown birds with long beaks. They wade in shallow waters and mud, searching for larva, snails and worms. Clearly, Angela had no idea what a snipe was, or else she’d be in tow, looking along the banks of Lake Bearpaw.
When Zach arrived at the edge of the lake, he saw only one other camper. Zach raised his hand to wave, and as the other camper tried to wave in return, Zach heard a scream before the camper disappeared. Zach took off at a sprint toward the last place he saw the other camper. When he arrived, he dropped his pillowcase in alarm. The other child was struggling in the muddy water.
“Help!” Zach called. He offered his hand to the struggling camper. “Can you take my hand? I’ll help you out of the lake.”
“I can’t swim!” was the reply. The camper tried to reach for Zach’s hand. Zach tried to grab on, but the slippery hand caused Zach to falter, lose balance, and fall into the water.
“Aargh!” Zach tried to reach for the other camper, who was clearly struggling in the water. “You have to calm down,” Zach said. “You need to calm down and move toward the bank. Also, why didn’t you tell Steve you couldn’t swim?”
“I raised my hand when he asked!” the other camper shouted, then coughed. “I was on the bank, and the mud gave way. There’s a sinkhole! Where are the counselors anyway? This snipe hunt is a stupid activity!”
Zach heard the sound of squishy footsteps, accompanied by high pitched voices. “Right there, I saw both of them fall in, one by one!”
Angela.
“Zach, hold on. We’ll get the two of you out. And then, this camp will be hearing from my father.”
Zach felt something on his hands, which were by this point, very cold. It was a rope. He grabbed the camper’s hand next to him and shoved the rope into the open palm.
“Grab on,” Zach said. The camper did.
Minutes later, two waterlogged campers sat on a bench, cups of hot cocoa in their hands. A woman in a Camp Rhodes T-shirt stood a few feet away, yelling at Steve.
“This is grossly incompetent, and not how we do things here!” She bellowed.
“But we’ve done this snipe hunt every year, it’s a first day tradition!” Steve’s voice squeaked in a threatened falsetto.
“Well, this is the last time. Two campers were endangered because you did not set up boundaries, nor follow up on the site inspection! A snipe hunt? Steve, is this 1964? Snipe hunts are just a cruel joke! If this camper here,” the woman gestured toward Angela, “had not come up to the office, we could have LOST LIVES! You’re fired. Now pack your gear, and turn in your keys to HR. You’re outta here!”
“Boom!” Angela whispered, the faintest smile flickered on her face. “Zach, I’m sorry I left you behind. I- went to the main office. I wanted to go home. Then I heard you shout and I called for the campsite director. Snipe hunts aren’t real, and it’s a stupid prank that counselor pulled.”
“Snipes are real though,” Zach protested.
“Not in California. I did a report on snipes for 4-H last year.” Angela sighed. “Honestly, I’d go home, but I think someone has to look out for you and the others,” Angela said. “Might as well be me.”
“Thanks,” the waterlogged camper said.
“Thanks, Ang,” Zach said.
Angela shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”