Things fell apart as soon as the campers arrived.
Briar had taken on most of the camper mediations, as promised, but she’d been conveniently pulled away by mysterious phone calls during others. Alice was trying to be accommodating, but mediations had always been hard for her. She froze when facing a simple argument. Even friendly debates amongst their high school friend group would often make her leave the room.
She didn’t understand how these campers found the energy to argue so consistently over nothing, and she frequently wanted to shout that they should wait until they were adults withrealproblems. Which she, of course, refrained from doing, both because she was an adult who was responsible for their well-being and because she was a little scared of them.
When Alice entered the bedroom late on the third day of the session, she was wondering whether she could keep going at this rate. Meanwhile, Briar was the picture of coziness, snuggled in bed with a book.
‘Hey,’ Briar said, and Alice immediately wanted to forget whatever sort of tentative truce the two of them had constructed. She knew that tone, and she knew that it meant more bad news for her.
‘What is it?’ she asked, trying not to sound overly antagonistic. It was hard for her to believe that Briar didn’t find any pleasure in watching her squirm.
‘There’s a kid waiting for you in the office,’ Briar said, gazing innocently up at her from behind the book.
‘And you couldn’t deal with them yourself?’ Alice asked, already turning back to the door in defeat.
‘He’s homesick for England,’ Briar said. ‘I thought you’d be better suited to talk to him about it.’
She supposed, in a way, Briar was right. Maybe Alice was homesick, if that’s what you called being sick with longing for the simple life she’d left behind in London. A small, sunless bedroom, a basement desk at a lab and a best friend who she’d never had a catastrophic falling out with all sounded ideal at the moment. If not thrilling, her life in London was at least manageable. The highs and lows of the past few weeks were both foreign and unsustainable.
‘Okay,’ Alice said, and waited until she was in the hallway to let out her sigh. She opened the door to the office with trepidation. A kid who couldn’t have been more than eight sat in a chair across from the desk, a stuffed rabbit tucked under his arm, anxiously nibbling on the collar of his shirt. He didn’t look up when Alice came in.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Violet. Nice to meet you.’
‘Hullo, Violet,’ the kid said, still staring straight ahead.
She settled into the chair behind the desk. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Robin.’
‘That’s a nice name,’ she said, hoping a few compliments might be enough to fix his problems. Briar would have been able to cheer him up immediately, but Alice had no idea how to go about it.
‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers. ‘My mum named me after the bird. It’s her favorite.’
She nodded. ‘A great choice. And what’s your favorite bird?’
He scrunched up his face. ‘I don’t like birds. They’re scary.’
‘Oh,’ Alice said. No wonder he wanted to leave – the constant birdsong was one of Alice’s favorite things about camp. She’d forgotten after years in the city how comforting waking to the sounds of nature was. ‘Why?’ she couldn’t help but ask.
‘The feet,’ he said, as though that explained anything.
‘Right…’ Alice said slowly. ‘Well, Briar told me you’re homesick? Do you want to talk about it?’
‘I’m not homesick.’
‘Oh?’ Alice asked. Maybe Briar had misunderstood and she could just talk to Robin about something not bird-related for a few minutes then send him on his way.
‘I’mgoinghome, so that’s probably what she meant,’ he explained.
Alice breathed out. ‘I live in England too, did you know that?’ He shook his head. ‘So I understand how it’s difficult to go from being there to being here.’ What she couldn’t tell the eight-year-old was how impossible she was personally finding the transition.
‘I hate it here,’ he said.
‘Is there anything in particular that’s bothering you?’ Alice asked. ‘Maybe I can help you make some adjustments to make camp more fun.’
Robin shook his head, his voice pitching up. ‘I don’t like the woods. I don’t like the other boys. I don’t like the birds. I don’t like—’
‘Alright,’ Alice said, holding up a hand before he worked himself into hysterics. ‘Let’s take on one thing at a time. The woods and the birds I’m afraid I can’t change for you, but what about the other boys? What’s wrong with them?’
