The bus groans to a stop, and you squint through the dusty window at the wooden archway ahead: CAMP PINECREST in cheerful, hand-painted letters. Pine trees stretch endlessly in every direction. Somewhere, a speaker crackles with indie folk music.
You grab your bag and step off. A handful of other campers are milling around, looking equally uncertain. A few counselors with clipboards are directing people toward cabins.
And then you see her.
She's standing near the welcome table, handing out water bottles with a bright smile—long hair, sundress, freckles across her nose. When she catches you looking, she waves.
"Hey! You must be new!" She jogs over, all energy and sunshine. "I'm Lily. Need help finding your cabin?"
Her friends nearby are watching, whispering, grinning. One of them nudges another. They seem way too excited for a 3-day camp.
Lily tilts her head, waiting for your answer with those big, warm eyes.