I’m sure Brian can see through my lies pretty easily, but he just smiles at Georgette. She glances from Brian to me again before saying, “I don’t have time to give you an interview, but we can start you up and let your supervisor decide if you’re a fit. That’ll save us some time anyway. You’ll get a weekly stipend if you stay.”

I wanna say A weekly stipend? That’s it? Instead, I just smile and say, “Thanks!”

Georgette passes me a pamphlet with the words Bicormac Springs Summer Camp across the front, then turns to Brian and says, “Can you take him to the rec center?”

“Yup,” Brian says, quickly steering me through the door as the smile falls from my face.

“What was all that?” I ask.

Brian laughs. “Georgette’s not the friendliest, but she’s got a pretty good heart as far as I can tell. I wanted to streamline this so I can actually get to work.”

“I thought this was just orientation,” I say.

He shrugs. “Yeah, it is, but I’m doing CPR training. You know, because I’m old enough to be trusted with something other than babysitting a bunch of six-year-olds.”

I roll my eyes. “Joy.”

The rec center is probably the biggest space here. It’s the worst kept from the outside—the white paint peeling and the grass surrounding it looking pretty brown—but on the inside it looks kinda like a high school gym, from the bleachers to the semi-padded walls. The floor feels like a basketball court but the lines aren’t marked. There’s some space against the far wall lined with tables, and there’s like four people bustling around carrying stuff in from a ramp near the bleachers.

“Okay,” Brian says, patting me on the shoulder. “Best of luck, bro. See you after work.”

He slips out of the rec center, and I stand there awkwardly for a moment as I consider where to go. There aren’t a whole lot of people in the room period, let alone a whole welcome group of kids my age waiting to introduce me to my assignment. Actually, between the people filtering in and out of the center and the couple of people standing around cleaning or whatever, the only person who looks to be close to my age is some kid sitting off at one of the far tables paging through a stack of papers.

It’s kind of a long walk, but I suck it up and head in his direction. Here’s hoping he can tell me what I’m in for, or, at the very least, here’s hoping those papers are a welcome guide plus a map.