I stand to the side, watching her easy confidence as she explains how the next few days are going to work.
“Stay within the campgrounds. Lights out is nine o’clock, and anyone caught outside of their cabin after that will be sent home immediately.”
“What if you need the toilet?” a girl with mousy brown hair asks.
“You are allowed to go to the bathroom,” Brooke confirms. “But straight there and straight back.”
The girl sinks into her chair looking relieved.
“Your focus here is the assignment,” Brooke continues. “Tell a story in ten minutes. That is the assignment. I’m looking for something more meaningful than a ninety-second sound bite. You need to hold the audience’s attention in an authentic way. And you need to interview at least three people.”
She pulls a piece of paper off her clipboard and holds it up. “This is the schedule; you were all emailed a copy, and I’ll pin this up on the wall right here.”
She strides over to a chalkboard on the wall. “Tomorrow we stay near camp. Here you’ll find the park ranger, camp staff, an indigenous liaison, a local history expert, and the director of the environmental project. On Wednesday we drive to Willow Farm, the shared community. There are people here living off the grid, seasonal workers, and longtime residents.”
The students are listening intently, and one girl is taking notes. I watch Dana as she sits in her seat with her elbows on the table, her eyes on Brooke.
“On the final day, you can develop your theme further. Some of the environmental protection team will be on site, or you can go back to Willow Farm or visit an indigenous community. See how your story is coming together and what it needs.”
While Brooke explains what they’ll be graded on, I notice a man in khakis hovering by the main door. His expression is troubled.
I head over to him, and he holds out a hand. “Barney, camp director.”
I introduce myself, and we shake hands. “Everything okay?”
He frowns. “We’ve swept the debris up from the storm. I appreciate you not canceling. We get some weather up here in the mountains, and a little rain and wind can scare some people off.”
The place looks fine to me. There are muddy sections, and the mini-bus had to park wonky to avoid puddles, but there’s no evidence of a lot of damage. Yet his expression tells me there’s something I’m missing.
“What’s the problem?”
There’s the scraping of chairs, and the room fills with chatter. I glance up to find the students pushing out from the tables. Brooke heads over towards us, and the camp director introduces himself. They shake hands, and the contact irritates me.
He holds her hand a little too long, and his gaze lingers on her face.
“You were saying?” My voice comes out as a growl, and Brooke stares at me with her eyebrows raised.
“There’s a problem,” I snap.
I realize I’m being rude, but he doesn’t need to fawn over Brooke like that. It’s unwanted attention that she doesn’t need.
Barney licks his lips, and his gaze darts between us.
“The storm did some damage to the cabins, and we’ve had to close Wolf camp.”
The camp is arranged in a diamond shape with a cluster of cabins at each point and the communal buildings in the middle.
“Sounds like you had it bad,” says Brooke.
It’s her natural compassion coming through, but Barney takes it as an excuse to gaze at her.
“I’ve seen worse,” he practically purrs. “We get some weather up here.”
“What’s the damage?” I interject, not liking the way he’s smiling at Brooke.
“A tree came down on Wolf section, took part of a cabin roof with it. We were going to spread you out over the two camps, but I don’t want to put anyone in Wolf until we can get the tree removed. The team have stabilized it so it’s not dangerous, but best not stray into that area.”
“No problem,” Brooke says. “I’ll let the students know.”
