Chapter Text
Ramona wasn't sure what she expected from Canada.
She imagined it would be similar, in a sense, to her woodsy, almost-coastal small-town California: arid at times, mostly balmy, some forestry here and there. That's how Annie and Connor described it, anyway.
Driving through the unfamiliar country now, Ramona was certain that "some forestry here and there" was a tragic understatement. She thought she knew towering pines, but now she was second-guessing everything she thought she knew.
They'd flown into Toronto that morning on a red-eye out of LAX that none of them had been able to sleep through, Connor sprawled across two seats the second the seatbelt sign turned off, Annie doing a crossword by the tiny overhead light, Ramona just staring out the window at cloud cover until the world underneath finally broke into green. Then came customs, then the car rental counter, then two hours of highway that turned to backroads that turned, eventually, to gravel and pine and a lake that kept flashing between the trees like it was taunting Ramona with peek-a-boo.
"You ever heard of prairie madness?" Ramona asked the car. She was slumped in the passenger seat, boots on the dash while Annie held the wheel at 10 and 2 and Connor squinted at his phone in the backseat. He'd been watching Instagram reels at full volume for the past hour and was suddenly cut silent.
"Just lost service," he huffed, ignoring Ramona's question entirely. "We're officially off the grid."
"Thank God," Ramona mumbled.
"Prairie madness?" Annie asked.
"Yeah. It was this thing in the 19th century where settlers living on the plains were literally driven insane because of how the prairie seemed to just... stretch on forever. I feel like I'm getting prairie madness but for the woods right now. Woods madness."
"Tree fever," Connor chimed in.
"Exactly," Ramona confirmed.
"Stop, don't be dramatic," Annie said. "There are trees all around back home."
"I swear it isn't like this, though," Ramona said, rubbing her eyes. "It's like we've been looping through the exact same patch of forest for hours. God, I feel like my vision's getting spotty."
"It'll be different once we get to camp," Annie said. "Just try to close your eyes for a few."
With a reluctant sigh, Ramona shut her eyes.
Convincing Ramona to join the trip to Camp Northwood this summer had been no small feat. Their dad had hinted at the idea since spring, but Annie was the one who'd actually gotten her to sign up as a counselor. At every chance she got, Annie recounted stories she and Connor had collected from camp over the years, from going as campers when they were young to the past few years of being counselors.
Ramona, even as a kid, had refused to go. She never had much interest in meeting other kids or being forced into activities she didn't want to do. She was happy to stay home and spend each day by her own accord.
What finally convinced her this year was when Annie, after exhausting all other arguments, said exactly what she knew would make Ramona fold: "I don't wanna keep doing this without you."
That was really all it took.
Connor leaned forward between them and rested his chin on the console. "Can we play the road trip game? Where you pick a celebrity and guess who'd win in a fight?"
Ramona, eyes still closed, said, "1... 2... 3... Clint Eastwood."
"Claire Danes!" Connor yelled at the same time. "Oh yeah, Claire's got his ass. That dude's a dinosaur."
"I didn't even know he was still alive," Annie said.
Ramona whipped around to glare at him over her shoulder. "Okay, obviously I meant prime Clint Eastwood, not decrepit Clint Eastwood."
"Okay, well, you should've said that but you didn't. I win." Connor crossed his arms and leaned back, satisfied.
The two bickered about the technicalities of the game for the rest of the drive.
Thankfully for Annie, it wasn't too long before the wooden camp sign crested into view through the windshield and their squabble subsided.
"There it is," Connor said, sitting up so fast his seatbelt locked him into place.
The trees opened up into a gravel lot half-full of cars and a scatter of kids hauling bags toward a dock that stretched out into the lake. As the "EST. 1971" carving on the sign indicated, it looked as if nothing had been updated in 50 years. Everything from the boathouse roof to the chipped paint of the canoe rack to the row of mismatched lawn chairs facing the water looked sunbleached two shades lighter than their original hues.
Ramona sat up straighter.
Connor was tumbling out of the car before it had fully stopped, yelling at somebody he apparently knew, arms thrown wide, and Ramona watched him get tackled.
"That's Sully," Annie said, coming around the car with her bag over her shoulder. "You'll like him. Everybody does, pretty much instantly."
"Okay. I'll allow myself to be charmed."
She got out slower, taking in the lot, the dock, the water beyond it stretching into a scatter of islands she could barely make out, dark green lumps against the horizon. One of those islands, she assumed, held the cabins and the bonfire pit and whatever else was standard for an off-mainland summer camp. She lit a hand-rolled cigarette.
Annie shot her a glance.
"Last one before the boat," Ramona said.
"Sure," Annie said, half-turned toward the dock. "I'll believe that when I see it."
She went to find whoever was in charge of luggage, and Ramona stayed put.
Ramona smoked half the cigarette leaning against the car, watching the lot fill in around her. There were more people than she'd expected, counselors all around her age and younger campers, greeting each other with familiarity.
Then the boat came in, its low motor rumbling through the noise of excited campers. It rounded the near island, spray coming up white on both sides, and there was a girl standing confidently at the front of it. Her curly blonde hair whipped loose around her face, one hand braced on the windshield, the other raised in a high wave. She was shouting something Ramona couldn't make out over the engine, but she could see her wide smile.
The boat cut its engine, swinging in against the dock, and the girl vaulted over the side, her bare feet landing on the wood.
"Alright, you absolute animals," she called out to the lot at large, British accent clear over the crowd, "who missed me the least, 'cause I wanna start with them."
There was a chorus of excited responses back. Sully abandoned his conversation to jog over and get scooped into a hug that lifted him off his feet. Even at a distance, and maybe emphasized by Sully's short stature, Ramona could tell this girl was tall, with loose limbs and layered jewelry, wearing a tie-dye tank top and basketball shorts two sizes too big.
The girl scanned the lot, and her eyes seemed to land on Ramona. She smiled brightly and started jogging over. A grin rose to Ramona's lips too, until she glanced to the side and realized the girl was actually running toward Annie, who had looped back around to the car after her first round of hellos.
The two embraced in a bear hug, and Ramona, somehow slightly embarrassed, looked away and took another drag of her cigarette.
"Hey," the girl said suddenly, pointing at Ramona. Ramona dropped the aloof act and made eye contact. The girl approached, unhurried, with a cocky smile Ramona couldn't predict.
She stopped in front of her, hands on her hips. Ramona breathed an awkward half-laugh, her gaze darting away before landing back on the other girl's mischievous eyes.
"Smoking is prohibited on camp grounds," the girl said lightly. She pinched her fingers around Ramona's cigarette, and Ramona let her take it.
"Didn't know this was considered 'camp grounds.' Thought that wasn't until after the boat ride," Ramona said.
The girl gave her a quick scan, up and down, and then took a drag of the cigarette. Ramona's feet felt cemented in place, and she couldn't seem to look away.
"Smart girl," she quipped. She exhaled and handed the cigarette back to Ramona, who took it tight-lipped.
"This is Oona," Annie said, appearing back at Ramona's elbow as if on cue. "And this is Ramona."
"Ramona." Oona said it slowly, like she was trying to place it. Then her eyes flicked to Annie and back, and widened. "Wait, you're the sister! Ramona. Annie talks about you all the time. Oh my god, I can't believe she finally convinced you to come."
Ramona felt her cheeks burn pink. "Yeah, well, we'll see if I last two days," she said. She averted her gaze again.
God, I can't even look at her. Pull it together.
"Give it three," Oona said. "I have a good feeling about you." Ramona's stomach flipped. Sully shouted Oona's name from down the dock, and she glanced over her shoulder. "Right, I've gotta go deal with... that. But I'll find you later, yeah? Welcome to camp!"
She jogged off toward the dock without waiting for a response, and Ramona stood there, watching, her cigarette burning down, forgotten between her fingers.
In Ramona's peripheral vision, Annie was not-so-subtly biting back a smile. Ramona looked at her and rolled her eyes, though she was grinning.
"Shut up," Ramona said, stomping out what was left of the cigarette under her shoe.
"What? I didn't even…"
"Just..." Ramona made a zip-your-lips gesture before walking to the side of the car to grab her bags, and Annie held up her hands defensively.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
After several back-and-forth boat trips from the mainland lot to the camp's island and after everyone was checked in, orientation began.
Orientation was held in the mess hall, a long timber building with windows all down one side that looked out over the water. Ramona sat at the end of a long table between Annie and Connor, picking at a plate of food, and let the introductions roll on while she tried to keep the roster straight.
Joe ran the place, a 60-something with salt and pepper hair, thick-framed glasses, forearms sleeved in faded tattoos, and an old black lab curled at his leg that he called Tucker. Joe talked for no longer than what was absolutely necessary, mostly covering logistics, and then handed things over to the counselors.
"Okay, quick intros for the new folks," said Sully, standing up on a bench. "This is Oliver." He pointed. A blond boy with very good skin gave a small, gracious wave. "Best-dressed counselor three years running. Ask him about SPF, he knows it all. This is Lincoln." A kid with dark curls nodded once. "Runs the Heron Cabin. Rory." A boy with a guitar case lifted a hand. "He'll serenade us at some point this week, it's basically guaranteed. Ellis." The quiet boy gave a small nod. "Best boat driver here, full stop. And Stacy Mallory." A girl with curly hair and warm brown skin lifted two fingers in a peace-sign greeting.
As Sully continued to introducing Connor, Ramona glanced around and found Oona, sitting backwards on a bench two tables over, whispering with Stacy Mallory, close enough that their heads were nearly touching, both of them stifling laughter.
She looked away and instead scanned through her list of campers.
"That's Ramona," Sully said, gesturing toward her. Ramona's eyes shot up, surprised given that she hadn't even formally met him yet. "She's new. Try not to eat her alive." A few campers chuckled. She gave a lame wave.
"That's Oona's sister," Annie whispered beside her, pointing to the "Maple" printed on her list, then pointing at the girl Ramona supposed was Maple. She looked about 12, with unbrushed, shaggy hair. Ramona was not, generally, a kid person, but it was some relief to know she had an older end of the age range in her cabin.
"That's Annie," Sully announced. A small group of young girls cheered. "Yeah, you know her." The girls waved at Annie, who waved back. Ramona shook her head with a smile.
Of course she has a fan base.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Eventually, the counselors were dismissed while the campers played an icebreaker game amongst themselves.
Ramona was assigned to the Loon Cabin, third one down a winding dirt path lined with old pines, wood-shingled and weathered. Inside it was one wide room with bunks lining both walls, a single bare bulb hanging from the center beam, and a window at either end letting in the last of the evening light. A small shelf by the door held a can of bug spray and a stack of folded towels.
None of the cabins had any plumbing. The bathrooms lived in a separate building entirely, a long low structure closer to the mess hall that the map Ramona had been handed at check-in called "The Bathhouse."
She found the one non-bunked bed and figured that was meant to be hers. She dropped her bags and flopped face down onto the mattress, which knocked the wind out of her with its unexpected firmness.
Her muffled groaning was quickly drowned out by several high-pitched voices filing into the cabin. For just one second longer, she let herself stay face-down, hiding from the girls who would be her responsibility for the next two weeks.
"Is she okay?" one of the girls said. Ramona took that as her signal and sat up, eyes narrow as they readjusted to the light. She put on her best fake smile, which was far from impressive but seemed to do the trick as other bright faces smiled back at her.
The girls quickly settled into their bunk arrangements with little dispute. Ramona was sure the last time she'd been in a room with this many kids was when she, herself, was a kid in school. She watched them chatter and giggle, some hanging over the top bunks, others unpacking sleeping bags and blankets.
Eventually the bustle dwindled, the voices quieted, and suddenly there were dozens of unblinking eyes looking at Ramona for some sense of direction.
"Oh," she said the instant she realized. How do you even talk to kids? "Uh, hello. I'm Ramona. I'll be your counselor. So... what are your names?"
All of the girls said their names in perfect, overlapping unison, so Ramona couldn't catch a single one. She had to chuckle at herself.
"Right, maybe not the best way to do that. Um..."
"How about we play the name game," Maple said. Ramona nodded slowly.
"Yeah, yes, great idea, thank you. The name game, which is..."
"We just each say an adjective that describes us before our name. And it has to start with the same letter. So I'm Magnificent Maple."
Ramona smiled. "Right, thank you, Magnificent Maple."
One by one, each girl introduced herself. Some standouts were Rebellious Riley and Marvelous Miley (twins, who had starkly different personalities), Wondrous Willa (a meek girl whose adjective didn't quite show it), and Jolly Georgie (... close enough).
After everyone had gone, Ramona smiled and said, "Awesome, well, thank you…"
"You have to go," Maple interrupted.
"I mean, you guys already know my name," Ramona said.
"Come on," Maple urged.
"Okay, okay, let's see... I'm..." A few adjectives ran through her head: reproachful, rigid, rude... not good choices. "Responsible Ramona," she landed on.
Of course, Rebellious Riley was the one to shout, "Boring!" The other girls giggled in response.
Ramona smiled. "I'll work on it."
With free time before lights out, some campers dispersed outside while others stayed in. Ramona opted to stay in, not wanting to shock her system right as she was getting comfortable. She alternated between reading the counselor handbook (which was really just three sheets of paper stapled together) and listening to the conversations around her.
Maple drifted to the foot of her bed.
"You're Annie and Connor's sister," she said matter-of-factly.
Ramona set her book down on her chest. "That's right. And you're Oona's sister?"
"Mhm," Maple nodded proudly. "Annie was my counselor last year. She's really cool."
"Oh yeah? She is cool. I'll try to be equally cool but don't hold me to it."
Maple grinned. "It's your first time at camp?"
"Yeah." Ramona leaned in and whispered, scrunching her nose. "Don't tell the others, but I'm kinda nervous."
"It's okay, it's a lot of fun. I think you'll like it. And then you can come back again next year!"
"Maybe so," Ramona chuckled.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
After a trip to the bathhouse in a huddled, giggling group with one flashlight between nine girls, teeth brushed at sinks that ran cold no matter how long you let the water go, the Loon Cabin quieted down for the night.
Ramona lay on her own bed at the front of the cabin. Outside, the lake lapped quietly at the shore. She let her eyes close.
She didn't know what time it was when she woke up again, but she knew it was late.
Ramona blinked groggily, disoriented, trying to place what had pulled her out of sleep, and then she heard voices, low, right outside the cabin wall.
She sat up.
Through the small window by her bunk she could just make out shapes moving past in the dark, two, then three, then a fourth catching up at a jog, all moving with exaggerated stealth. She recognized one of the silhouettes by the curl of the hair alone, even in the dark.
Curiosity got the better of her before caution did. She swung her legs out of bed, careful of the creaking frame, pulled on the hoodie draped over her bedpost, and eased the door open and slipped outside.
The night air was cold, and the sky overhead was speckled with the brightest stars she didn't have time to properly appreciate, because a figure was stopped dead on the path, staring at her.
"Well, hi," said Oona, grinning in the dark, hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Oh, uh, no, I just... heard voices outside."
"Sorry to wake you from your beauty rest." She glanced back over her shoulder at the others, already disappearing down the path toward the trees, then back at Ramona. "You wanna come?"
Her eyes were dark in the night, but still seemed to twinkle, mesmerizing without even trying. Does every British Canadian look like this? It made Ramona briefly lose her train of thought.
"Yes. Uh, I mean, come where?"
"I can't really explain it without ruining it."
"... Okay," Ramona said.
Oona's whole face lit up. "Come on, then."
She turned and started down the path after the others, and after a second, Ramona followed.