You stay hidden in your little nook, holding yourself perfectly still, watching as the time ticks by. It feels like you've been there for hours—although of course it's got to be only a few minutes—when two women drift by, close enough for you to hear as they talk quietly to each other.
"Are you feeling better now, Janice?" one of the women says. She's small, round, brown-skinned, her black hair in a neat pixie cut.
"Yes," the other one—Janice—replies with a smile. "It's always hard right before camp starts, you know?" Her pale face lifts in an optimistic smile.
The first woman nods ruefully as she sighs, "Oh, I do. But I know you feel it more." She gives her companion a sympathetic nudge with her shoulder. "You've been here longer, so it makes more of a difference to you."
"You're sweet to worry," Janice replies, giving a gentle nudge back. "I'll be fine by the end of the summer, though."
Okaaaaay.
How long have they been here? What does the beginning of camp have to do with anything?
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