The sound of Cherri breathing hard faded as I pushed on up the hillside, the top of the ridge close. Clothes stuck to me where I dripp-ed sweat and when I reached the real top after the three false tops we'd climbed so far I stopped and let the breeze coming over the far side catch under my hair and cool me. I pulled my shirt loose and flapped so air went up inside, cool against the underside of my breasts, my nipples growing stiff. I thought I might need to avoid Cherri as much as possible the next ten weeks, something about her so enchanting that if I let even a little of my emotions show I'd get kicked out of camp.

"Hey, Dan, anything there?" Cherri came and stood beside me, her shoulder almost touching my arm. I looked down at her, the top of her head level with my shoulder.

I pointed to where a group of buildings sat on the edge of a lake. "I guess that's camp."

She took a few steps and looked down the slope. "It's not so steep this side. I think we can get down easy."

I stayed on top of the ridge, watching her, hating myself for watching her but incapable of preventing myself. The breeze plucked at her short little skirt, the light material billowing and lifting and the top of her thighs flashed into view until she idly brushed her skirt back down.

She glanced back at me and grinned. "You think they're gonna be mad at us for being late?"

"I guess."

She nodded. "Race you down." She laughed and took long strides down the slope, each foot kicking up a plume of dust to be tugged away by the breeze. I watched her, so confident, small feet moving sure and precise across the rough hillside. I gritted my teeth and followed, awkward and clumsy and unlovely.

Chapter 4.

I guess we deserved the bawling out we got when we arrived. As we walked into camp Jeff Simmons was driving away in a jeep, probably to fix the blown tire on the bus, and Chrissy Simmons stood on the office porch waving him off. If she hadn't been there we might have sneaked in under the radar, but she saw us coming out of the woods and called out. She stood us below the porch and stared down with her arms folded before saying we were totally irresponsible for wand-ering off the way we had, and we should have kept up, and in any case if we couldn't follow a simple trail we should have gone along the road with her.

When the bawling out ended she glared at us a moment longer before her face relaxed, and I realized the anger had been a pretense. "You can go get cleaned up, Cheryl, but I want a word with you, Dani."

I glanced at Cherri and she said, "See you later." I felt bereft as she left, as though we had been friends for years, not hours. Camp was full of other kidsathough I'd need to stop thinking of us as kidsamany I'd met in previous years, plenty I got on well with, but some-thing about Cherri touched me in a place no-one ever had before. I wanted to hang on to that, even if it did confuse and scare the hell out of me.

"Come inside a moment, Dani."

I followed Chrissy into the small camp office. Two desks took up over half the floor space, but instead of sitting behind one Chrissy leaned against the edge of the desk.

"Is something wrong, Mrs Simmons?"

She smiled. "Nothing, Dani, you're not in any trouble. Well, no more than you already are." She tried to put on a frown but that moment had passed. "I've got a favor to ask."

"Uh-huh?" I perched on the other desk. Behind Chrissy Simmons most of the plank wall was covered in a huge chart colored to indicate the different games, sports and activities taking place over the next ten weeks. The schedule looked busy. I knew from previous years how busy.

"You remember Alan Peters who ran the photography class when you were here, don't you?"

"Sure." Alan was a retired schoolteacher who'd organized the teaching and darkroom ever since I'd been coming. He'd been running the classes for over twenty years, a good guy even if he hadn't been able to teach me anything I didn't already know, but then I'm not the kind of kid the classes are aimed at.

"His wife called last week. Alan's been taken ill. He doesn't sound too good. She says..." Chrissy tailed off, perhaps realizing she might be about to tell me more than I wanted or needed. "Anyway... we've tried to find a substitute, but at such short notice we've had no luck. Then Jeff said why not ask you."

"Ask me what, Chrissy?"

"If you'd be our photography coordinator this year."

"Me?"

"It's a lot to ask, but you and I are both aware you know more about taking pictures than Alan ever did. The only thing we're not sure about is can you cut the teaching. You're only a little older than some of the campers. Can you help us out, Dani?"

I shook my head. "I'm not sure."

"We'd appreciate you trying. And we'll keep looking for someone while you're filling in. And you'll be a coordinator rather than a counselor so the pay's better, and you won't have to stay in a cabin. Say yes, Dani, please?"

"I... I guess I can try. But I want to go into a cabin like everyone else." I figured I could cut the teaching. My Dad would definitely tell me I could manage being in charge, but I wasn't yet ready to be treated like the older coordinators yet.

"We can do that." Chrissy grinned. "In fact, it would be great otherwise I'd need to change someone else around to cover your cabin. Thanks Dani. Thanks a lot."

Chrissy rose off the edge of the desk, the interview over. I hesitated a moment, on the point of asking if I could buddy up with Cherri. I figured I might be able to swing it if I asked, but something held me back.

When I came out the office Cherri had already fetched her stuff from the bus and waited for me, reading the counselor assignments on the notice board.

"Look, Dan. You're in number seven." Cherri's finger pointed out my name. She'd found it before me.

"You mean Eagle," I said. The girl's cabin were named after native birds, the boys after animals. Cherri rolled her eyes. Not into the spirit of summer camp, obviously.

I scanned the sheets of paper stapled to the cork board, frantically trying to find her name, but she moved her hand. "And I'm in fourteen. Sorry, Cardinal. That's a Bummer. I hoped we'd be in the same dorm."

"Yeah." I wondered how she meant that, wondered if she'd discovered the same instant friendship I had.

"You got anything like paper in one of those gazillion pockets, Dan?"

"Sure." I knew exactly where, pulled out a small notebook with a hard black card cover. "You want a pen too?"

"Duh."

I found the pen as well, handed both to Cherri.

She opened the book up, reading for a moment at what I'd written inside and glanced at me. "Is this some kind of code? Where're the juicy revelations about your love life? All I got is fuckin' numbers."

I pointed to the top of the page she held open. "Date, time, f-stop, shutter speed, film speed. Anything else I need when I develop a film. I do it all the time."

She gave me a look like I had a screw loose, turned the pages until she found a fresh sheet and started writing down the names of the other counselors in her dorm and mine.

"What are you doing?"

Her tongue once more poked prettily from the corner of her mouth as she wrote. "We're gonna go find out if any of these girls want to swap places. Then me and you can bunk together."

"You can't do that, Cherri," I said. "This is your first time, isn't it?"

"First time for what?"

"At camp." I was an old hand, already been three times as a student, this my first time as counselor but the rules were clear enough. "You can't just change places with someone. It's not allowed. The managers have placed us all based on our specialisms."

"Shit." Cherri kept writing names, working her way through the other counselors on the list.

"I'm going to find my stuff," I said, moving away. Much as I liked Cherri from the first, I was uneasy about her willingness to break the rules. I've always been big on rules.

She glanced at me, still writing. "Wait five, Dan. Your bus hasn't come in yet anyway. I'll come with you when I've got aem all down."

I leaned against the plank wall and crossed my ankles, watched her turn back to her task.

"Why are you bothering if you can't swap?"

"I like to know who's who."

"You'll know everyone well enough in a couple of weeks. How come you've never been to camp before?"

She shot me a glance, her eyes skittering away from mine, the first time I'd seen her anything other than self-assured.

"Wasn't really an option until now." Her voice cool and I wondered what I'd stirred up. I was stupid sometimes. Stupid and lucky. My family were well off and I never thought about how much camp had cost. Thousands, big money for most people, but we'd always had money.

Cherri went back to her task and I looked away, watching some of the other counselors walking from cabins down to the low flat block where the staff lounge and refectory were based. No sign yet of the other bus.

Roughly hewn wood cabins sprawled up the slopes either side of a small river running into the lake. All the staff and eating facilities lay alongside the river. Two wooden bridges crossed over, one almost at the lakeshore, a second higher up. The boys were housed on the north slope, the girls on the south. A mix of native trees grew between each of the cabins. Out on the lake empty pontoons waited for canoes and sailing boats. Later in the week when the kids arrived they would be thick with a multitude of craft. My stomach rumbled and I realized I hadn't eaten anything since a very early breakfast. Other than the pieces of apple Cherri had fed me.

"OK. Done. We can go now."

"I'm hungry. Want to see if we can find something to eat?"

"Lead onayou're the expert. Shame we can't bunk up together, but you don't get away from me that easy."

I smiled. That sounded fine with me.

I thought about making our way to the refectory just as the bus, flat repaired, drove in and I detoured to fetch my stuff.

"Aw, Dan, I'm hungry," Cherri complained.

"I've got to do this. You go ahead. I'll catch you later."

"I'm not going without you." Cherri rolled her eyes and I wondered how much of her confidence was a front. "Get your things and come back down. I'll go look at the lake and wait for you."

Other counselorsaI needed to stop thinking of them as kids, even if that's how I still thought of myselfacame out the dining hall and we milled around, talking and catching up while Jeff and the driver tugged sacs and cases from the cavernous trunk. I saw my two rucksacks get thrown out, in opposite directions of course. I grabbed the Karrimor by a strap and dragged it through the melee, went back for the ARVN sac that Dad had handed down to me. It looked bedraggled and coarse but still my pride and joy. He'd spent eighteen months in Vietnam following the troops, recording their lives and deaths with his Nikon. The ARVN was an American made sac supplied to the south Vietnamese troops, but frequently used by ours because it was superior to their standard kit. Dad had been presented with his two months in, after the troop he'd been assigned to got caught in a firefight. Dad didn't tell me much more than that, although he had shown me some of the pictures he took that day. The sac had been given him after the boy wearing it was killed. Most people might think that bad luck, an omen, or creepy. Dad considered it an honor the soldiers respected him enough to pass on something of value from a fallen comrade. The sac still had a ragged hole where the bullet passed through which nobody was going to attempt to repair. I didn't have to imagine how Dad felt when he'd been given the rucksack because I experienced exactly the same emotions when he casually handed it to me two years back and said, "You might as well use this now, Dani, my hiking days are past."

Chapter 5.

I dropped my things in the cabin and walked back to the lakeshore. No sign of Cherri, so I stood for a while watching a breeze work the surface. I had my camera, of course, and framed some shots without pressing the shutter. I had plenty of film, but ten weeks is a long time and I didn't want to use everything the first week. Back in my room I had an aluminum can holding raw film stock, the same my Dad used and he'd made me a present of the can holding the equivalent of 100 standard film spools. He'd taught me years ago how to load film without exposing it, and I had a small store of empty spools ready to use. In addition I'd brought ten rolls of Kodachrome high quality transparency film I was saving for when I needed or found something that needed color. I would've liked to bring a second camera body so one could always be loaded with each film stock, but I had enough stuff already and Dad persuaded me I didn't need more. His advice had always been good. It ought to be, he'd been a professional photographer since age nineteen and I listened to everything he told me. I'd learned more from him than all my other teachers put together. I know it isn't cool to think your dad's brilliant, but mine isahe's not like my friend's dads at all, they all act like parents, but I can talk to mine like a best friend. Mom gives him hell, tells him he spoils me, but he never changes, always there for me. Mom's a sweetie too, but my brother Gordon is her favorite, and that's okay with me because I'm my Dad's. Don't get me wrong, Mom loves me too, just not as much. Perhaps there's truth in what they say, dads and daughters, moms and sons, I don't know, but I guess in our family that's the way it is.

After a while I walked back from the shore, pretending I wasn't looking for Cherri. I met at least ten kids from previous camp and we stopped and caught up, but all the time my eyes were scanning the figures wandering the site until finally I recognized her unmistakable bounce, the swing of her skirt, and I excused myself and went across. She caught sight of me coming and grinned and something relaxed inside me. I'd never been quite as comfortable with anyone as fast as I was with Cherri.

"Hey, Dan, I been looking for you everywhere. Where'd you go?"

"You were looking for me?"

"Sure." Her face fell like she was about to burst into tears. "You don't wanna be my friend anymore?"

"Course I do." My stomach started making flips.

"Ha!" Cherri doubled over, laughing. "You thought I was serious. I got ya!"

I grinned, relief flooding me. "Are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

I shook my head and fell into step beside her. "Where we going?"

"Check out the talent. There are boys here." She laughed and I joined in, our shoulders bumping as we made our way to the refectory, stopping at the office on the way past because Chrissy Simmons had posted the staff allocations up. It was weird seeing my name in the short column of coordinators and Cherri raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'll tell you over dinner." Something about the fresh air, something about the excitement, but I needed food.

As we walked into the refectory they were starting to close up. Most of the other counselors had already eaten and gone. The kitchen staff were clearing the last trays of food, but took pity on us and piled pasta and chicken in a cream sauce on our plates. We took them and sat at a long table which looked out over the lake. The sun had moved across and shadows from the high ridge on the far side stretched toward us. As we ate and talked the shadow crept slowly across the water.

"So fill me in, Dan. What happens next?"

"You've never done this before, have you?"

Cherri shook her head, delicately placed a morsel of food in her mouth and chewed. The sun still showed above the jagged ridge across the lake and caught her blonde hair, trapped itself in her long lashes, highlighting the fine down on her cheeks and upper lip and I caught myself staring and looked away.

"I told you. This is my first ever time."

"So what made you want to do it? I know what camp's like, but you have no idea."

"You make it sound like a made a mistake." Cherri sorted through the pasta and chicken pieces, selecting another small fork full.

"Not a mistake. But you might find some things a bit of a shock. You're not going to get any time to yourself. Camp's pretty full on."

She nodded. "They told me that when I applied. But I guessed they were trying to put off the wimps."

I shook my head, picking at my own food. Typical camp foodacarbohydrate heavy, tasty in a vague way, but inside ten days I'd be heartily sick of pasta and chicken.

"You're not going to get enough sleep," I said. "Some of the kids will be real cuties and some will be little shits. You're not going to be able to shower every day and after a while you'll probably stop noticing how bad you smell. It's tough, but fun."

"Fun?" She looked at me.

"Yeah, fun." I looked back.