Camp Sealth: A Short Story

I 'll start my story from the beginning.
I entered camp Sealth after a years absence, and I picked up on some things immediately. First and foremost, the beauty of the camp had not changed. Children nervous happy to be here. Untouched structures, and the home away from home that I knew as camp.
Some things had changed. I was older now, even older than my fellow interns around me. I picked up on a bitter adolescence in some cliques, a sort of unwillingness to change and adapt. It did irque me. I was not going to let it stop me. I met many of my fellow peers who had never been to camp before, and I strived to give them my experience of such a time. Interns John Diaz and Gordon Silva quickly became close friends of mine, and I believe we flourished

Tragedy struck again and again that month. Grieving and sad I arrived at camp Sealth ill, fighting off night fevers, waking up covered in sweat, and wearing 3 or four layers of clothing at a time. If it wasn 't for Rocket I do not know how my first week would have gone. I had a positive, extremely capable mentor, who took me, not at my A game, and shaped me into a better intern that week. There was still a lot to learn, but I left that week feeling fulfilled, and healthy. My experience in the inclusion program is something i would never want to give up.
I entered camp the next week with the most exciting news, I knew I was going to be returning to my childhood unit of Kawannis.
The chance to return and pass on some of the best memories of my teenage years was a gift that I was not going to take for granted. The week prior I was reminded to stay out of trouble, I knew it was not ok to be in places I did not belong, and that there was a part of camp I needed to respect as an intern. I had full intention to fulfill that. And I feel as though I did. I quickly developed a strong relationship with each and every one of my campers. All 12 13 and 14 year old

However doing the same with my fellow staff members proved to be a problem. I seeked help in the only safe place I knew. Shutanka. Here I shared my difficulty in making friends, I felt shut out, I felt excluded, and I did not feel the love. One day speaking with Gordon I watched him open his mail. His grandma had wrote him a letter, she told him she loved him, and reminded him that camp was for the kids. And with that I felt as though I knew what to do. Make camp the best experience I possibly could for as many campers as possible, In spite of my own obstacles. That is what I did. We sang back in the rain in the canoes, arriving in unison from our overnight. All overnights at lyzabula seem to be a well rounded experience. Where once the Kawannis unit sailed from island to island, a one night overnight canoe trip occurs every kawannis week. In this time one might expect that a child, staff member, or anyone, may interact with the locals. We were approached by a kind man, smiling ear to ear he invited us to watch his play performance in the park. He explained to us he was a member of the vashon theater crew, and the field was quickly filling with onlookers. My fellow staff member approached quickly, rather than asking the nature of the play, Jaws told him to shove off, and to the corner our troop went. While all three of the staff members Cooked dinner, I was encouraged to handle the bakers dozen of children myself. Playing games, pitching tents, teeth brushing. When it was