Cabin Nine [[Revised Edition] Under FURTHER Revision]

Two

Eight Years Old

I wake up at five in the morning the day we leave for camp. I'm so excited that I haven't gotten a good night's sleep for a week. Jack's last letter arrived yesterday but I didn't write back because I'm going to see him today. He said that he was bringing me a costume for Wacky Wednesday and told me not to worry about bringing them any year, because he'd bring one for me as long as we were friends. I don't see that unhappening anytime soon. I've never had a friend like Jack. Especially since he seems to think that we'll be friends for years. I've never had a friend who planned in advance for me.

My heart pounds wildly the entire drive to the church. My whole youth group is going this year because I convinced them to last summer. So if anything goes wrong, it's on me. They already hate me. The church bought a van specifically to take us there, so the adults will hate me too.

I think they're taking a big risk with the van, but it could be useful for other things too. I really hope they like the camp. Mom and Dad won't pay by themselves for me to go another year and if the church does it in a group, we get a large group discount and a few people from our church can come along as sponsors.

Mom says I'm too young to be worrying about money but I think I should start thinking about it as soon as possible. Jack thinks that's stupid. He says we should enjoy our worry-free life as long as possible. I don't know. I just don't want to be a burden.

It takes an impossibly long sixty-eight minutes to load everyone into the van. We put all of the luggage into another car but there still isn't enough room for all of us in the van, so one of the sponsors takes some kids in her car.

We all barely fit and I'm stuck in the very back of the van with two guys who are best friends. They're older, bigger, and meaner than me, so they force me to sit in the middle and ram their shoulders into mine whenever they get the chance.

I'm basically swaying the whole time and my shoulders are red and already sore when we stop for lunch.

Pastor Ryan sees my shoulders and makes sure I'm not sitting between them anymore, but he can't do anything to move me entirely. So they resort to verbally abusing me. Ryan may be a good youth pastor, but he's not particularly good at dealing with people like Klein and Mark.

I kind of hate them. And I know that's not very Christian of me, but they suck. I asked them to stop making fun of me, so they drop the other insults and just call me gay for being "a soft little baby." I do my best to ignore them for the rest of the drive.

We get to the camp and have to go through registration, which I don't remember doing last year. I guess Mom and Dad took care of that while I made my bed or something.

I try to rush through it so I can get to my cabin and find Jack, but the line is slow. I'm itching to see him as fast as I can. It's been too long.

The yellow guy is my counselor again and he's wearing the same stupid shirt. I try to commit his name to memory this time. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter because he's wearing bright reflective gear. I think that's what you do while you're hunting. I've never hunted anything but fireflies.

I don't remember him very well but he seems to remember me. He won't tell me if Jack is in our cabin. He seems to get a kick out of my pain. I've got two people from my church in my cabin this year. Blaine and Freddie. They also seem to find my excitement funny.

I practically drag the three of them back to the lodge.

We're in Cabin Nine again this year. I walk in and Jack is sitting on the top bunk in the far corner of the room. His luggage is on the bottom bunk, which makes me panic. What if he saved it for someone else? What if-