The Summer at Camazotz

Twenty-Three

The remainder of the week flies by, Saturday arriving sooner than anticipated. The day is filled with extra games and activities as a last chance for cabins to gain as many more points as they can before Cabin Face-Off comes to an end later this evening.

Wolf Cabin is able to pull through with a couple of wins to add to our hopefully high score. Not knowing where we stand in the rankings makes everything much harder than it already is. No one knows if they're safely ahead of all the others or if they desperately need to catch up to avoid last place.

Canoeing is the final activity of the day and of the week. All four cabins compete in a race for victory, all while trying not to fall out of the narrow vessel. It is without a doubt the hardest competition we've had to endure yet, but with teamwork and fierce determination, my cabin is able to secure second place, only coming in behind a cheerful Bobcat Cabin.

The butterflies in my stomach don't settle for a moment as we make the trip back to the cabins. If anything, they seem to multiply like rabbits while I peel off my wet clothes and change into a fresh pair of shorts and a plain tee.

Since I arrived at Camp Camazotz and found out about Cabin Face-Off, I've been eager to win and prove myself to everyone. I want to prove myself, but I also want this for my campers. Even if it may be a small victory in their lives, it's still just that—a victory. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I also wanted to beat Jordan like I promised I would all those weeks ago.

The last time I was this nervous was probably the day I started high school, but even then, knowing I had my friends beside me made the journey a lot easier. Today, I have my campers, except I'm not sure how a bunch of kids up to eight years younger than me will be much help.

Frank and Joan had reminded us all that winners would be announced at dinner tonight, but they didn't specify when exactly they'd be telling us.

All anyone can talk about at dinner is Cabin Face-Off. The urge to know the results is overwhelming. I can hear bits and pieces of conversations about the same topic being discussed at my table all around me. I don't think there's one person in the whole mess hall who isn't talking or at least thinking about the competition.

"I've been trying to find a way to calculate all the points, but I keep getting stuck," Tammy complains, her plate mostly untouched.

"Same," Astrid says. "I've been thinking about it all day."

Jordan is scooping up the last bit of rice on his plate and shovelling it into his mouth. He takes a long sip of his Pepsi before placing the glass back on the table and continues to say nothing. I keep waiting for a snarky remark to come from his spot across the table, but his mouth remains shut.

And I'm not the only one who notices. The girls have shifted their attention over to my boyfriend who is still acting as cool as a cucumber.

"You're too quiet," Astrid comments, narrowing her eyes.

Jordan points a finger at himself, as if it isn't obvious she means him. A smile lights up his face as he drums his fingers against the table.

"I know my cabin's gonna win," he replies, never once faltering. "Not much else to say."

Tammy lifts her fork to her mouth and takes an angry bite of her chicken. She chews slowly as she examines Jordan, probably trying to decipher whatever game he's playing today.

"There's no way against the three of us, you come out on top," I say, then cringing inwardly at how harsh the words sound out in the open.

Jordan doesn't seem fazed and shrugs off my comment. "I know it's just your feelings talking. Just wait. You'll see."