Which, I mean, if it’s free . . .

I grab the cup and sip from it, the warmth and sweetness washing over me. It takes all my strength to not vocally moan as we make our way into the rec center, Devin holding the door open for me.

“Hope you’re excited,” he says. “Today’s the day everything happens!”

“You mean, the day we get to start babysitting?”

He laughs, but I really wasn’t joking. “I know you’re only here because you need to get paid, but the kids are really sweet. I think you’ll like them.”

Probably not, considering I hate kids, but I nod anyway because I don’t want him to report me.

The rec center’s way busier than I’ve seen it. It looks like some of the onslaught of kids and parents have spilled over into here, but the kids look smaller, or maybe their parents are just taller than the parents outside. . . .

“We should greet some of the parents,” Devin says, but his voice wavers and he looks a little green.

I take a step away from him to avoid a repeat of last week. “Why?”

“Because they’ll want to meet the people overseeing their kids.”

I sigh because I just know he’s gonna drag me over there against my will and make me mingle. He takes another sip of his coffee and sighs, squeezing his shaking hands into fists. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Devin ushers me forward so we can introduce ourselves to the parents slowly filling the rec center, and his voice quivers with every line he lets out. I hold back my urge to warn the parents to stand clear a few feet, and we make our rounds, talking about how “excited” we are to get to know their little brats.

Finally, we clear most of the crowd. Everyone seems to be heading toward the bleachers, and Devin steers me out of the rec center and toward the rehearsal hall.

“The parents are going to sit through a quick orientation, then we get the kids. During the day camps, we have kids ages four through seven. Only the eight- to thirteen-year-olds do the sleepaway camps.”

I know the camp runs in weekly cycles, so all the kids here today will be gone by next Monday, but it still sounds exhausting. I never realized I’d feel so fortunate to have never gone to summer camp.

“I’m not doing the sleepaway camps,” I say.

Devin smiles. “I know, but you might want to consider it later in the summer. It’s the best part of camp.”

I roll my eyes.