02 | The Ghost of Grace Milner

I survey the sunshine-drenched grounds of Camp Create It behind the safety of my rolled-up passenger's side window. As we drive under the big wooden archway that bears the camps' name in big white letters, my stomach stirs with uncertainty.

Dad hums along to the radio as he drives up the dirt road, totally oblivious to my internal freak-out. It's been a week since he told me I'd be coming here. I've spent the past seven days trying to figure out how I can make the most of this experience, and the plan I came up with is pretty simple: focus on my photography.

The classes will be like a dream come true (especially when compared to Winsor High's boring teachers and ancient darkroom equipment), and I plan to take full advantage of everything camp offers. After spending a few days here, I'll be over my creative standstill for sure.

And like I said before, making friends isn't exactly on my to-do list. I don't have to totally shun everyone (that'd be difficult, considering I'm going to be surrounded by a little over two hundred people), but I'm not looking to get close to anyone, either. My old daydreams of summer romances and new-found friends don't really apply anymore, but it won't hurt to make a few acquaintances. Acquaintances can't hurt you the same way friends can.

Dad slows the car as we pull into a large paved area at the entrance of the camp. The place is swarming with vehicles, teenagers, and parents. A few staff members stand around, easily identifiable in their green polos and khaki shorts, clipboards in hand. Cabin assignments, most likely.

Piles of colorful luggage and backpacks decorate the pavement, sitting next to cars as families hug goodbye and friends reunite. Two girls wave to each other from across the lot, jumping up and down and running into each other's arms. Nearby, a pair of older-looking boys stroll up to each other and do one of those laid back handshakes, the casual kind that every teenage guy just seems to know somehow.

Dad parks near the edge of the lot and looks over at me with a large smile. "Looks just like the pictures!"

He's right; it's like we've stepped into the brochure. I smile back, nodding as I look at the woods in front of us. A dirt path cuts through the trees and buildings sit along it in the distance, barely visible through all the foliage. "Yeah."

He pops the trunk and steps out of the car to get my luggage, so I follow. As soon as I open my door, my ears are attacked by the loud chatter and squeals of excitement from nearby campers.

Dad hoists my big yellow suitcase out of the car as a counselor a few feet away holds up a megaphone, asking for campers with last names starting with M through P to come get their cabin numbers. I take out my backpack and my tote bag from the backseat as Dad shuts the trunk.

"Campers whose last names start with Q, R, S, or T, please see me for your cabin assignments!"

I turn to the source of the voice: a tall, female counselor with a bun of curly hair. She's got a megaphone in one hand and a clipboard in the other, just like the rest of the staff around the lot.

"I should go, I guess," I say to Dad, trying to ignore the anxiety that sneaks its way into my excitement.

"You have fun, okay?" He leans in for a hug and kisses my forehead before handing me the big suitcase, which immediately makes me lean to the side thanks to how heavy it is.

"Okay," I agree, shifting the bag up onto my shoulder. I'm not one to get sappy, so I'm sort of thankful for the excuse to get going. I don't want Dad getting all misty-eyed on me. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too-- and I'll miss your cooking. With both you and Mom gone, I might starve to death, you know."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You'll survive. They make TV dinners for a reason."

"And take-out. Next time you see me, I might be a few pounds heavier." He smiles, then leans in for another quick hug as the counselor calls out for our last name again. "Remember, if you need anything, I'm not far and I don't mind driving up here. And don't forget to text me every now and then so I know things are okay. But don't waste all of camp on your phone, either! That's not what we're paying for--"

"Dad," I interrupt, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine, I won't spend all summer on my phone, and I'll keep in touch. Promise."

He grins, giving me another short hug. "Okay, Del. I'll miss you, and I'll text you later to check in."

I nod, smiling and waving as he heads back to the driver's side door. "I'll miss you too. Bye."

"See you soon!" he says, waving before shutting the door. And just like that, the one person I knew in this sea of people is gone.

I let out a breath, turning to look for the counselor who called for me. My arms and shoulder are already aching from carrying my bags, so I'm happy to see there are only a few other campers surrounding her. I head over, nearly getting run down by two younger-looking girls as they zoom past.

"Name?" she asks me, wiping sweat from her forehead as I stop in front of her.

"Delena Torres," I answer, spelling out my last name in case she isn't sure.

"Alright, Delena..." She trails her pen over the list in front of her. "You are in... girls' cabin thirteen."

A girl and boy standing next to me speak up with drawn-out "ooohs" of concern. I look over for a second, which they take as an invitation for them to elaborate.

"Girls' cabin thirteen is haunted," the girl explains, pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail.

Her friend leans his arm on her shoulder, nodding. "The ghost of Grace Milner. She lived at Lake Kintaw all alone back in the eighteen hundreds and died in her cabin. They tore it down while building Camp Create It, and they say cabin thirteen is built right where hers was-- she thinks it's still hers."

The girl shrugs his arm off of her, glancing at him in annoyance as she adds, "And she doesn't like people staying in her cabin."

Wow, haunted number thirteen. How original.

"Great," I mumble. "An extra roommate."

The counselor uses her pen to point me in the right direction, towards a dirt path opposite the one Dad and I were looking at earlier. "The cabins are down that way, girls to the left. You've got about an hour till the mandatory first-day assembly, and there are snacks in the mess hall if you get hungry."

I thank her before walking off, eager to set my things down. The first thing I'm doing is unpacking, whether Grace Milner likes it or not.

I lug my bags past groups of hyper, talkative campers, making it to the wooded path. Branches hang overhead, shading the trail and relieving me from the heat of the sun. After a few feet the trail splits in three, and a wooden sign with multiple arrows points me in the direction of the girls' cabins.

The buildings are nice, made up of brown paneling and dark green roofs, each with a small number next to the door. Thanks to the brochure, I know that there are twenty cabins for the girls and twenty for the boys, all housing five campers each if admission is at full capacity. Judging by how many teenagers are swarming the woods, I'd say it has to be pretty close.

Out past the last cabin, the woods thin out, revealing Lake Kintaw. It sparkles under the sun, beckoning campers to come cool off in the water. The lake is another thing I plan to take advantage of this summer, and not just through my camera lens.

I finally reach cabin thirteen, dragging my bags up the two wooden steps and heading through the already propped-open door.

The room is made up of wooden furniture and dark, paneled walls, each with a window. Thanks to the pulled back curtains, sunshine is streaming in, drenching the cabin in light.

There are five beds in the room, each with its own nightstand and a small dresser at the foot of the mattress. A girl with long, red hair glances at me as I step inside, offering a smile. I smile back, thankful that she goes back to silently unpacking. This lone wolf thing might not be so hard.

Two of the other beds are already taken, one marked just by a suitcase, the other decorated with a tie-dyed blanket and a small teddy bear. I claim one next to one of the windows, dropping my bags on the mattress.

I unpack my things for twenty minutes while campers run past outside, laughing and squealing. The redheaded girl left not too long after I came in, leaving me by myself-- so far, there's been no sign of any poltergeist.

As if to mock me, there's a sudden thump loud enough to make me flinch. My head jolts in the direction of the noise, which turns out to be nothing more than a lanky girl with short, sandy hair struggling to fit her bags through the front door.

My heart starts to slow back to a normal pace, and I let out a silent laugh at myself for entertaining the idea of Grace Milner for a second there.

One of her bags slides off her shoulder as she tugs on the one stuck in the doorway. There's the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, which causes her to gasp, blue eyes going wide behind her glasses. I hurry over to the door and un-stick the large suitcase from the frame.

She smiles sheepishly, laughing slightly as she sets down the two bags on her other arm. "Hey, thanks! I should've known that would happen-- the thing's so bloated I could hardly even fit it in the trunk."

"No problem." I shrug as she examines the torn side. "It doesn't look too bad, at least."

She waves it away and sets the bag with the rest of her luggage. "It'll be an easy fix." She sticks out her hand. "I'm Lizzie. Fashion design student and... chronic over-packer."

"Delena," I introduce myself, accepting the handshake-- it's atypical, coming from a teenager, but I guess Lizzie does look a little out of the ordinary. Her hair is styled in a wispy pageboy cut, and her pink glasses match her retro-looking romper. "I'm a photography student."

"Far out!" She nods enthusiastically as I head back to finish putting my clothes away. She follows, placing her things on the bed next to mine. "Is it your first year here? I don't think we've met before."

"Yeah," I confirm as she unzips her big suitcase, clothes practically billowing out of it. "First and last, since I'll be eighteen next summer."

"My last too, unfortunately, but I've been here the past two summers. Hey!" she exclaims so suddenly that I almost flinch again. "I could show you around, if you want. We've still got some time before the assembly."

My eyebrows raise, gaze drifting to her luggage. "Don't you need to unpack?"

She shrugs. "I can handle it after dinner."

I look at my space, which looks a lot more Delena-esque than it did when I came in, thanks to the fact that most of my unpacking is done. My bed is made, dresser decorated with the journal and colorful pens I brought for note-taking during workshops.

A tour around the grounds seems more entertaining than staying here and scrolling on my phone until the assembly, not to mention more useful. Plus, Lizzie seems nice enough (albeit a little out there), and like I said, it won't hurt to have a few people I can talk to for the next few weeks.

"Well... sure, if you feel like it."

"Sweet!" Lizzie grins, clapping her hands once. "Let's go!"

Hey everyone! I just wanted to note that my laptop is broken and I'm without Grammarly for now, so if you notice any grammatical errors or out of place apostrophes, feel free to correct me! I try to catch what I can, but sometimes I can miss the most obvious mistakes when looking at the same paragraphs over and over lol 😂

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I think like I did in Four of Clubs, I'll ask a few questions at the end of each story part, so:

Have you ever had any experiences with the paranormal? 👻

Any thoughts on Lizzie? 💫