Camp Adanarg.
Rod takes note of the fact that the “g” in Adanarg is slightly crooked. Of course, it doesn’t help that the letters seem to be simply glued to the moldy wooden sign hanging over the camp’s gate. Behind him, there's a pneumatic hiss from the bus that brought him there as it begins to drive off.
He watches it go until it is out of sight, then breathes a frustrated sigh as he turns his attention back to the termite nest of a sign and mutters, "Well Dummy, this is what you get when you tell your parents you want something to do over the summer." He shakes his head in self pity and makes his way toward the manager’s cabin.
Rod is thirteen, with longish red hair and green eyes. He is thin, but not unhealthily so. He is left handed and short, not that it matters much to Rod. Back at school, he was often teased about his height, at least whenever his friend Leo wasn't around. Leo is his best friend and about four-foot one, whereas Rod is four-foot eight.
As he steps into the manager’s cabin, he starts to think he is in the wrong place. Each thing he notices has absolutely nothing to do with what he saw before. One wall is covered with all sorts of Red Sox memorabilia, from posters to foam fingers to empty popcorn bins.
The next wall has what seems to be a map of the camp which has military tactical maneuvers scrawled all over. Last but not least is a closet door in one corner with a sign hanging on the knob that reads "DO NOT FEED THE LEOPARD!"
Just as he finishes taking all of this in, he notices a guy who could pass as a teenage version of any hot shot pilot from an 80’s movie or TV show, except for the green plaid shirt, overalls and work boots. Rod can't tell if the guy is a lumberjack, a farmer or just trying to make a fashion statement.
Rod turns around creeps to the door, hoping that he won't be noticed, so he could try hitch-hiking back home.
The guy gets up from behind a camouflage-painted plywood desk and asks if he can help him with something.
Rod sighs and turns to face the guy.
"Yeah, I just got here and I wanna know where I'm gonna be staying."
The guy, whose name tag says "Jeffrey Harty", grabs a clipboard off a nail on the wall and asks, "Name?"
"Rod Thomson."
"R-o-d T-h-o-m-p-s-o-n, right?"
"There's no ‘p’."
"Really?"
"Last time I checked, yeah."
Jeffrey quickly scratches out the “p” and says, "Cutting it a little close, aren't we? Any later and you would've been locked out!"
"Missed the earlier bus and then this one broke down on the way here."
"Again?! Sheesh, when are they gonna replace that thing? Oh, and red cabin one."
"What? Oh, red cabin one, got it." Just before Rod goes out the door he stops to ask, "Which way?"
"Left at the graffitied outhouse...I think."
"Um...okaay."
Behind the manager’s cabin, he finds a dozen outhouses scattered around. Lo and behold, the second furthest one has graffiti scratched all over it. The most notable messages being: "U mad bro," "Kilroy was here" and "WARNING Radiation Hazard!"
To the left of it and about a hundred feet away, stand cabins one, two, three, and four each with a red roof and door. He makes his way over to cabin one, up the wooden stairs and steps inside the door to find only one person inside, an African-American guy about as old as Jeffrey, with short spiky hair and brown eyes, wearing black denim jeans, a red t-shirt and sneakers.
"Name's Sanders, Mark Sanders," he says while throwing a dart at the target hanging on the wall and hitting the bull’s-eye. Not taking his eyes away from the target, Mark asks, "You new?"
"No, I'm thirteen!" Rod says sarcastically, grinning like a fool.
"Good! A sense of humor!", the 16 year-old says. "You got a name, new guy?"
Rod smugly replies, "Thomson, Rod Thomson."
Turning around, Mark says, "Well, Thomson, guess I ought'a give ya the grand tour."
Dropping his things by an empty bunk, Rod follows him out the door.
Mark tells him about how the cabins are separated into 4 groups of 4: red, blue, yellow and green. Each group has an appointed leader, who is 15 or older. Mark, as it turns out, is the red leader. The blue leader is Mo Pellagrini, Mark’s rival. The yellow leader is Joe Spivy and the green leader is Jeffrey Harty, from the manager’s cabin.
He shows Rod the baseball field, the cafeteria and the nurse’s office, where Rod meets the nurse's assistant, Mo's younger sister, Maggie. Maggie is pretty, not the stereotypical sort of prettiness generally attributed to nurses or their assistants, but pretty, nonetheless. At first glance, you'd think she's the depressed goth type: purple hair, indigo eyes, pale complexion, silver lipstick, a purple and black striped long sleeve shirt, gray short skirt, dark red leg warmers and high-heeled boots. Her behavior, however, says otherwise. She is constantly smiling and when she walks, it's more like she's half walking, half skipping.
Mark said, "Hey Maggie, where's your mom?"
"She's at a doctor's appointment... health problems, you know."
"Sorry to hear about that."
"Oh, don't worry. Her doctor just has her going on a diet and needs to check up on her every so often." Maggie says, waving her hand in a reassuring manner.
"Glad to hear it. For a moment I was worried it was something more, serious."
"Na' she's fine."
She steps in front of Rod and leans in so her face is inches from his and asks, "So, what’s your name, honey?"
At that moment, Rod’s face turns red as a tomato and the only thought in his head is "Name? What name?"
Thankfully, his mouth remembers for him, "R-Rod T-T-Thomson."
Maggie’s smile grows wider and Rod’s face redder.
"Well, it's nice to meet ya, Rod."
Then Mark asks, "Uh, Maggs, do you know where Coach is?"
Straightening, she says, "Probably down by the lake."
"Thanks! C'mon, Rod."
Before Mark closes the door, he sticks his head back in says, "By the way, I'm sorry I missed your birthday party yesterday. How old are you now?"
"It's ok, Mark, honey. I'm 16."
"Hey, you’re as old as your brother."
"Only ‘til his next birthday, you know. Thanks for remembering, though."
Outside, Rod is coming back to reality and asks, "Why did she call me ‘honey’?"
Mark shrugs, "She calls almost everyone honey."
"Okay."
They head down towards the lake, where Rod notices the fence which goes around the lake and seems to surround the entire camp. Pointing towards a sign on the fence that reads "Beware of alligators", Rod asks Mark, "Are those signs for real?"
"Yeah, there's another lake nearby that has a huge alligator population."
Rod swallows nervously and again considers the possibility of catching a ride back to town.
Mark calls out to the guy sitting in a lounge chair by the shore, "Hey, Coach! We got a new recruit!"
As they drew closer, Rod sees that Coach is a guy about 50... maybe 60 years old with gray hair and eyes, decked out in camo and unsurprisingly, a Red Sox cap. Coach looks up from the book he's reading, which Rod notices is Ulysses. Coach smiles, "Hiya slugger! What's your name?"
"Name's Rod Thomson, Sir."
"Sir? That's my dad, young man. You can call me Coach."
"Ok, Coach. Nice to meet you."
"Glad to see new faces this summer. Seems like there haven't been that many in last the few years."
Rod ponders the rundown appearance of the camp and considers suggesting that some sprucing up might help, but thinks better of saying so on his very first day at camp.
Shrugging, Coach opens his book again. "See you later, boys."
They continue on their tour passing an obstacle course and eventually they get to a small shack surrounded by a bunch of junk and scrap metal. The sign over the door says "Lab." Inside, every kind of mechanical equipment imaginable lays strewn about among a dozen half-finished projects. At the back stands a guy in his thirties who looks like he's stayed out in the sun too long more than once. He has black, greasy hair; gray eyes and is wearing a lab coat over a grease-stained tank top, jeans and Nikes.
"Oh, hey Mark! Who's your friend, there?"
"This is Rod, one of the new kids."
"Glad to make your acquaintance. The name's Billy Otto, but you can just call me Doc. Oh, you know, since you’re here and all... Mark, could you tell Ernie that everything's ready for tomorrow?"
"Sure thing."
"See ya later, guys!"
Mark and Rod start back toward the lake. As they walk, Rod asks, "What exactly is Billy’s job here? Who's Ernie and what does he mean by ‘ready for tomorrow’?"
"Ernie is the manager. Ya know, Coach. He used to be a coach for the Boston Red Sox and he never lets us forget it. As far as the Doc goes, well, every week we do a small battle between the teams. Sorta like paintball, except we use acorns as ammo. Doc Otto’s job is to make the weapons, equipment and vehicles. Also, he makes sure that they keep working."
Wide-eyed, Rod asks incredulously, "Acorns? Really? And this is supposed to be tomorrow?"
"Yep!", Mark says with a huge grin on his face.
At this point, Rod really wants to leave, thinking to himself, "These people, are, crazy!"
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