"It's a great responsibility, in fact. For the next six weeks, you are taking the place of these children's parents."
Above the lazy metallic whir of a fan and the bored creak of teens shifting in their chairs, Ms. Deborah Martin's speech goes earnestly on, explaining to you and the other counselors at Camp Cedarcrest what you'll be doing for the rest of the summer under her leadership.
Two weeks ago, you walked across the stage of Kingsport High's auditorium to shake the principal's hand and receive your diploma.
For the last time ever in your life, you were surrounded by the people you'd spent every schoolday with since kindergarten. Some cheering, some crying, some doing both at once.
The after-grad party lasted all night, until you all spilled out onto the beach to watch the sunrise.
As the sky started to turn light, a strange hush fell over everything—not just the kind that always comes in the dim moments before dawn, but something deeper, something shared. You all knew that this was the last time you would all be together—that after this night, this summer, everything would change.
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