More Camp Stories

Elisabeth can feel it - in the heat that won't break, in the way the other campers are looking a bit desperate at flag-raising, in the lake, unreasonably still and murky. And she knows the administration can feel it too, for the camp director’s grin has turned toothy and dark, and the early bedtimes come frantically, like a terrible precaution. The infirmary is over-capacity. Sleep-walking is at an all time high. All of the eight-year-olds besides Elisabeth have been up late, sobbing and tossing in their bunk beds, their haggard counselors unable to offer them any comfort. Elisabeth lies by quietly, listening to the restless horses and the shrieking bats. Something tragic and wonderful is coming to camp Matoaka, she writes in her journal, and we will all be its witnesses.