Chapter Text
Dear Diary,
I don’t know who decided camp was a good idea, but I hope they step on a LEGO. We’ve been at Camp Oak Valley for 2 weeks now, and somehow it still feels like we just arrived yesterday and also like we’ve always been here. Time doesn’t really behave normally. Or maybe I’m just tired. Probably tired.
Anyway, camp is fine. That’s what everyone keeps saying. “It’s fine.” “Totally normal.” “Nothing weird happening here.” Which is exactly what people say when something is definitely weird happening. The cabins look like they were built in 1732 and then aggressively ignored since. Damion said they look like they were “designed during a budget crisis in the middle of a ghost story,” which honestly feels accurate. We all got sorted into the same group by accident. Me, Indie, Damion, and Cleo. There are no other campers, which is either super efficient or super suspicious.
Indie is thriving, obviously. She met Cleo on like day one and immediately decided they were best friends forever. It’s kind of insane how fast Indie attaches herself to people. One second she’s talking about camp bracelets, next second she’s like “this is my soulmate, don’t separate us.” Cleo is nice. Not in a fake way either. Just calm, observant, kind of blunt but not in a rude way. She doesn’t act like we’re annoying, which is honestly rare for someone her age. She also does this thing where she blinks a lot, or shakes her head slightly, or clears her throat. Sometimes she whistles under her breath. It’s not like she’s trying to do it, it just happens. Indie noticed and asked if she was okay, and Cleo just said it was “a little habit” and shrugged it off like it was nothing. Then she offered Indie a snack she somehow already had in her pocket. I don’t know how she does that.
Damion and I bonded over something important: The cabins are structurally questionable. Like, he pointed out that one of the floorboards in our cabin makes a sound like it’s judging you personally every time you step on it. I told him that makes no sense, and he said, “Yeah, but it feels like it does.” We spent a solid 10 minutes just agreeing that the entire place feels like it’s held together with nails and vibes.
That’s when Tom Gordan showed up. Tom is the camp director. He looks like he was born with a permanent sunburn and an emotional attachment to marshmallows. He’s also way too dramatic for someone who runs a summer camp. He gathered us this morning for what he called a “traditional Oak Valley welcome ceremony,” which sounded important until it turned out to be him standing on a log stump in the middle of the clearing like he was about to deliver a royal decree. He said something like: “Camp Oak Valley is built on tradition, respect, and the sacred bond between campers and the forest—” And then immediately tripped over a log. Like fully wiped out. Arms flailing. Very un-sacred bond of him. There was a silence after that where nobody knew if we were allowed to laugh. Indie laughed anyway. Cleo didn’t, but she did that tiny eye-roll thing she does like she’s processing reality in real time. Damion looked like he was trying not to pass away from second-hand embarrassment. Tom just stood back up, cleared his throat, and continued like nothing happened. Honestly? Respect man.
After that, everything went back to normal camp stuff. Or what passes for normal here. But I noticed something weird. Tom kept glancing at the tree line while he spoke. Not like checking scenery. More like checking if something was watching back. I’m probably overthinking it.
Later, I was unpacking my stuff and found a metal object tucked inside my pillowcase. It’s small. Cold. Kind of dull silver, with markings scratched into it that don’t look like they were made on purpose. Not a key. Not a badge. Not anything I recognise. I asked Indie if she put it there.
"No." She said.
"It looks like something from a sci-fi game loot drop." Damion said.
Cleo looked at it for a second longer than everyone else did, then just said, “That’s interesting." which is basically her version of screaming.
I kept it. Just in case. Because at Camp Oak Valley, everything feels like it’s normal right up until it isn’t.