The glue is everywhere.

On the table, on the floor, on her sleeve, and Jackie Taylor is definitely not having fun. The paper lanterns are lopsided, the googly eyes are sliding off the popsicle stick bugs, and the kids at her table are mid-argument over whose glitter pile is bigger. There’s sunscreen slick on her arms, bug spray still lingering in her throat, and the laminated activity binder she definitely did not read is stuffed somewhere beneath the craft table.

She shifts on her feet, casting a glance toward the dusty windows of the cabin as if silently begging for rescue. “This is so stupid”

If Jackie’s being honest, she hadn’t planned on spending her summer supervising a bunch of kids in the middle of nowhere. Shauna had talked her into it, insisting that the whole “camp counselor” thing would look great on their college applications. “Leadership, Jackie,” she’d said. “Community involvement.” Jackie had rolled her eyes, and still signed up anyway.

Now, not even a full week in, the charm has worn off. Fast.

Sure, she’d imagined sunbathing on the dock, maybe helping out with the occasional team-building game or talent show skit. Not being elbow-deep in craft supplies with glitter on her face and a kid trying to glue pipe cleaners together.

A voice cuts into her spiraling thoughts: “Need a hand?”

She looks up, and there you are: Sun-warmed skin, camp staff lanyard looped casually around your neck, watching the scene unfold from just inside the cabin door. You look amused, but not unkindly so, mostly curious. Maybe even a little impressed she hasn’t completely combusted.

Jackie blinks. Her cheeks go a little pink as she straightens up fast, as if good posture might disguise the rising panic in her chest. “I’ve got it,” she says quickly, then falters. “Well. Mostly. I mean…I’m- improvising!”

From across the table, a kid attempts to tape a pom-pom to their forehead.

Jackie clears her throat. When you don’t immediately laugh, she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and chuckles under her breath. “You’re new here, right?” she asks, tilting her head. “Or at least new to this cabin. I would’ve remembered if you weren’t.”