Summer Intern Chapter 1 – The Race

Camp Greenpines is still tucked away in the woods of Northern California, an hour outside of Sacramento. It’s part of a family of camps, owned by the Outdoor Adventures company, that are geared towards getting high schoolers out of cities and into new experiences. They aren’t roughing it by any means, staying in well built cabins with bunk beds and showers, but all of the activities are not ones you’re likely to find in the city.

I was there for an entire summer five years ago as the sound intern. It was my job to keep music playing during meals, and the many different camp-wide events that took place. It came with a lot of downtime though, and I got to know my fellow interns very well. Some, intimately so.

I arrived at the camp early in May, having hitched a ride with one of the other interns who happened to also live in Phoenix. Her name was Kelly, and we had met years ago as volunteers at another OA camp, but hadn’t spoken since. Our ride up, nearly two whole days, was filled with reminiscing and catching up. She was working on her degree in hospitality management and was an active member of her sorority. I was a journalism major and not one to partake in school activities. Our common ground dried up quickly, but the ride was still enjoyable, especially given that she was a beautiful girl with hair as dark as shadows and emerald eyes. She had the sorority smile down, but it felt genuine most of the time.

We pulled up to the small intern housing, called Fadden’s Run, and parked in the small gravel parking lot. Several other cars with license plates from all over took up some of the other spots. Fadden’s Run, or The Run as we would come to call it, is a faded red, wooden house on top of a hill, just overlooking the camp. There are two stories, boys upstairs and girls downstairs, with the staircase on the outside in the back. The camp is a five minute walk away, giving the interns a nice little bit of separation.

We grabbed our things and stepped up the porch, the old wooden steps creaking beneath us. Once inside, we discovered a small living room space with two couches that looked like they could be in a motel lobby in an L-shape with a coffee table. The room lead into a small dining area and then a kitchen. Doors led off the various rooms into the girls’ bedrooms. Two guys sat one to a couch, sharing some small talk as we walked in. They seemed almost relieved to have the interruption as they stood to greet us.

“I’m Danny, one of the kitchen interns,” one of the two said. He was a few inches shorter than me, with a dark complexion, as well as dark hair and eyes. He had a small patch of hair on his chin.

“I’m Red. A rope intern,” the other guy said as I shook his hand. I figured red was a nickname, given for his rust colored hair. He was an inch or two taller than me, with murky green eyes and an easy smile.

The four of us chatted for a minute before Kelly and I had to drop off our things. She disappeared into one of the rooms, and I made my way upstairs. The space was much smaller there, with one worn out couch and a recliner in a small living space and a hallway leading to two rooms. I found an open top bunk, wondering who the owners of the other bags were. No one else was upstairs, so I decided to see who else I could find, and see if the place had changed since I was here years before.

The short walk to the nearest building, which happened to be the dining hall, would quickly become one of my favorite parts of the day. The dining hall blocked most of the sounds from camp, and I would often walk it at sunrise, giving a beautifully peaceful moment to start the day with. At the beginning though, I walked at a quick pace, eager to meet some other people.

The large industrial kitchen, which would soon be turning out meals for hundreds of campers three times a day, was silent. One oven was on, full of what looks like lasagna, which I had to guess would be tonight’s meal. I stopped by the drink station and found a glass, filling it up with water, when one of the doors leading out to the dining room swung open.

I nearly jumped as a girl around my age entered the kitchen. She seemed equally surprised by my presence, stopping as soon as she saw me. She was just over five feet tall and dressed like she was going to a punk concert in dark jeans, a black band shirt, and a faded green army jacket. Her dirty blonde hair was cut a couple of inches above her shoulders, and her sky blue eyes were surrounded by well applied eyeliner. It was hard to tell with the jacket on, but she seemed very fit, as hinted by the tight fitting jeans.
After a moment of shock, she laughed and approached me with an extended hand.

“Hi there, I’m Becca,” she said.

I took her hand and shook it, “I’m David. You nearly gave me a heart attack there.”

She laughed again. “Same with you. I forgot my water bottle and came back to get it. I didn’t expect to see anyone.”

“Do you work here year round?” I asked, wondering if she was the one in charge of the kitchen.

“No, I’m an intern,” she said as she shook her head.

“Me too!” I beamed. “Sound intern.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’m the ridge runner intern.”

“Holy shit, they still have those?” I asked, my mind filling with memories of the cages on wheels.

“Hell yeah,” she grinned. “You’ll have to come help me test them out before campers arrive.”

“For sure, but I gotta warn you. I’m pretty good,” I told her.

She got a devious look in her eye, “I love a challenge.”

Our talk was cut short by the arrival of Big Mike, the head chef of the camp. It wasn’t just a clever nickname, as the man seemed like he could easily pick me up. Even though age had some weight on him, he was still a formidable man in his 40’s. He quickly recruited the two of us into helping him finish up dinner. I followed the printed out instructions for garlic bread while Becca made salads.
As we worked, we got to know each other a bit. I told her about how I got involved with OA as a high schooler, becoming one of the avid Adventurers who went on every excursion I could. I told her about my volunteering at Greenpines, a position filled by high school and college students for only a few weeks at a time. I showed her the scar I got from the ropes course right above my eye, and she called it sexy.

She told me about how she was from Chicago, and got involved in OA out there. The camp she’s been to had newer go karts, but she’s heard rumors of a gas powered beasts that Greenpines had. She was a self described ‘grease monkey’, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on them. She also told me a bit about her schooling, she was an engineering student, and the desire to design cars. We discovered similar interests in our musical and movies taste.

By the time we finished dinner, more people were moving about the kitchen. We met other members of the kitchen staff and a couple more interns. When we were relieved of our duties, we made sure to find spots at a table together.

There were close to 50 people at the dinner. Just over a dozen of us were interns, and the rest were permanent camp staff and their families. We got the welcome talk as we ate, the camp director pepping us up to have “the best summer ever.” He gave us the rundown of the schedule for the next couple of weeks, telling us when the volunteers and campers would arrive. Last, he pointed out which interns would need to see which members of the staff for their job training tomorrow.

After dinner, all the interns made their way back to the Run to get to know each other. I’d already met a few, but now I got to meet Ali, Sara, Jackie, Tori, Lauren, Mike, Ben, Mark, and Kalanz. Most of us were just out of college, or about to graduate, and we were from all over the country. We spent the evening playing games to get to know each other, the whole thing breaking down eventually to individual conversations. One by one, people peeled off to bed.

I found out I was bunking with Ben, Mark, and Kalanz. We talked a little bit more in the room, but all of us were beat from the various trips. I had a hard time falling asleep in the semi comfortable bed, and the snoring of one of my roommates didn’t help. Around 2 am, I decided I needed to clear my head, and I pulled on some clothes to step outside.

Closing the door behind me, I discovered the night was chillier than I expected for the month of may. I shivered slightly, but it was not unbearable. As I slowly moved down the stairs so as to not make a sound, I discovered I wasn’t alone. Another intern, Tori, was sitting by the firepit on one of the logs around it, looking up at the night sky. She turned to me as I made my way down, and she smiled bright through the moonlight.

“Is it okay if I join you?” I asked, the sound of my own voice surprising me. I hadn’t noticed how quiet it was.

“Please do,” she said, patting the spot next to her.

I slipped into the seat, “You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

She shook her head and said, “It always takes me a few days to get used to a new bed.