Camp Winslow

Write a scene where two old friends unexpectedly reunite after ten years — but one of them has a secret.

The Polaroid fell from the shelf like a whisper — the gentle nudge Charissa needed to finally make the phone call she’d been contemplating for years.

Ten summers had passed since she’d last spent a Friday evening around a campfire with Theresa — fireflies buzzing, laughter filling the air as someone snitched on a poor soul’s inevitable mistake wrangling their campers that day. Not a single night had gone by without Charissa thinking about calling her. But every time, she’d found herself a coward.

Charissa Blakely had grown up going to Camp Winslow Pioneer Camp for Christian Girls every summer since she was five years old. It was the highlight of her childhood. She started off with just one week each summer, but over time, she stayed longer and longer. At sixteen, she was finally old enough to join the counselor training program. Technically still a camper, she shadowed counselors, helped plan activities, and did odd jobs around camp.

But the best part? She got to stay all. summer. long. Eight weeks of cabins and campfires, lake days and craft nights, hikes and devotional mornings, silly songs and skits in the dining hall after the best food she could imagine (though maybe that was just the magic of the place). She loved every second of it.

After two summers in the training program, Charissa returned as a full-fledged counselor following her freshman year of college. She arrived early that season, a smile stretching across her face as the morning dew kissed her ankles. The giant hill overlooking the cabins spread out before her, kissed by the breeze.

She was quickly greeted by familiar faces — some she'd kept up with on social media, others known only through camp memories. They didn’t get many new counselors; most were former trainees, so even the “new” ones weren’t really new.

But on the steps of the dining hall, Charissa spotted someone she didn’t recognize — lanky limbs, raven braids over her shoulders, freckles scattered across her pale nose, and a smile. The biggest smile Charissa had ever seen. Even from across the hill, she could hear the girl laughing. Like a siren’s call, Charissa felt herself drifting toward her.

CRACK.
Charissa’s knee hit the gravel hard. She’d forgotten to clasp her damn Tevas again and tripped on the straps. She hadn’t really forgotten — she just liked to say that. Everyone knew she left them undone to avoid the gnarly Teva tan line.

The spell broken, she limped off toward her cabin.

She spent the morning hanging posters, photos of past summers, and string lights around her bunk to create that special camp magic. It wasn’t until after lunch that her cabin mate finally knocked on the door.

Charissa opened it to find that smile standing there.

“Any chance of cell service around here, yeah?” the girl laughed. “I’m Theresa. But apparently there’s already a Theresa, so call me Loon. Don’t ask — weird family thing.”

Charissa stumbled over her words. “Oh, uh, I’m Charissa. You can call me Rissa, if you want… Um, you’re my cabin partner? You’re new, right?”

Loon stepped inside and glanced around at the decor. Charissa nervously wrung her hands, unsure what kind of reaction to expect. She’d been so excited for this summer, but hadn’t anticipated rooming with someone completely new. What if this girl came from a fancier camp with different traditions? This was a pioneer camp — no A/C in the cabins, basic setups, lots of crafts and songs and heart. She’d tried to create that cozy, magical atmosphere for her campers, just like others had done for her.

But Loon turned, smiled even brighter, and said, “Perfect! You’ve already got a good thing going here. What do you need help with? I’ve never been to camp before, so I’m at your disposal!”

Never been to camp before.
Charissa made it her mission right then and there to make sure Loon had the best summer of her life.

And she did.

They became inseparable. Charissa admired Loon’s confidence, her fearlessness. She had a natural charm, a way of connecting with everyone — campers, counselors, even the grumpy old cook in the kitchen. But she never made Charissa feel small. She listened. She laughed at her jokes. She sat beside her for devotions, they prayed together, sang songs under starlight. They spent nearly every waking moment together.

At first, Charissa thought maybe she was just jealous. Loon was effortlessly cool and — not to mention — gorgeous. High contrast features, striking eyes, that cascade of dark hair. But it wasn’t just that. She got flustered around her. She avoided her gaze a little too long.

Eventually, she knew.
She wasn’t jealous.
She wanted to be around her. She wanted… her.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel that way. This was a Christian girls’ camp. Her parents would never understand. While she was supposed to be reading the Gospels, she was daydreaming about the woman sitting across from her, head bowed in prayer.

So, she left. When the summer ended, she packed up and walked away.

No letters. No texts. She saved Theresa’s number, followed her on social media, but never reached out. She just watched her life unfold through photos and stories. From a distance.

Until now.

Today felt different.

There was a reunion coming up. A whole decade had passed, and the Polaroid on her shelf had whispered something she couldn’t ignore.

She picked up the phone.

“Hey, Loon… It’s Charissa.”