With Nicole assuring us that she won't leave Pippa’s side, I follow Max from the room.
“That was nice of you.”
“You’re the one who got all heroic and carried her up here.”
“Yes, but you're the one who found her and took action.”
“I just hope she'll be okay. Poor thing.”
“She'll be bouncing off the walls again soon.”
We return to the group, and Max immediately begins to work with the kids as they erect their tents around a central firepit.
“Are you here to help, miss?” asks a boy of about thirteen or fourteen with bright blond hair and freckles.
“Sure. Just tell me what to do. And call me Fabiana, okay?” I reply.
“Sure. I'm Cedric.” He bounces on his feet as though he's got too much energy to contain within his young body.
“Great to meet you, Cedric. Do we need to put up a tent?”
“There’s one over there.” He gestures at a zipped-up bag near a large willow tree.
“Let’s do it.”
I collect the bag, and together we carry it to where Cedric wants to set it up.
I pull out poles and pegs and what must be the tent. I twist my mouth as I survey all the pieces. Most of the other tents are up already, so it can’t be that hard. Can it?
“Okay, Cedric. Where do we begin?” I ask.
“Have you ever put a tent up before?”
“Nope. But there’s a first time for everything, right?”
When I was little, our vacations would consist of usvisiting my family’s lake house, staying in our condo overlooking the Med. We travelled through North America when I was about nine and made it as far south as Australia the following year. I’ve seen tents, but that was as close as I’ve ever gotten to one. Right now, I’m hoping I can bluster my way through this.
I mean, how hard can it be?
I stare at the pile of green fabric and metal poles scattered across the grass.
"So, which end is up?" Cedric asks, holding a curved pole at arm's length as if it might bite him.
I grab the instruction sheet and squint at diagrams that look more like someone’s idea of abstract art than anything. "Okay, it says here that the first step is to insert pole A into sleeve B.”
A quick search for the items shows me nothing is labelled either A or B.
Fat lot of good these instructions will be.
Cedric has somehow managed to thread a pole through what is clearly meant to be the door. The tent now resembles a deflated balloon animal.
"Maybe we should start over?” I suggest, watching him wrestle with the tangled mess.
“Wait, I think I've got it!” Cedric yanks hard on the fabric. The entire structure collapses on top of him, leaving only his sneakers visible.
I search for the opening, lifting it up to see Cedric peering up at me. “We’re not very good at this, are we?” I say.
He giggles, his shoulders beginning to shake. It’s infectious, and before long, I’m giggling, too, both of us breaking into peals of laughter at our total ineptitude.
