As I hugged my mom goodbye and stepped onto the bus that would take me to my first sleep-away camp I felt remotely sad. I was a mommy’s boy at heart. Only once, to this camp, had I been away from my parents for a few days. Of course, as I choked back tears, I knew it was for the best, I had to get out of the city and reunite with some old friends to relax. I had broken up with my long-time girlfriend recently and I was taking it hard. I had to become independent eventually, to stand on my own two feet, and my time was now. On the bus, I gave the driver my bag so he could stow it in the undercarriage of the bus. Not wanting to be disturbed, I headed to the back of the bus, away from all the hub of the senior campers that were situated at the front, some of which I (unfortunately) recognized. I grabbed a seat next to a quiet boy that obviously was a shy character. His glasses were dirty, his hair was wild and wiry and his clothes were wrinkled. As the bus tore off in a cloud of dust, I said kindly to him, “What’s your story?” He looked at me blankly for a moment, as if in deep thought, his mouth moved as if he was about to say something but he stopped himself and turned back to the book I failed to notice. It was called Did Mona Lisa Really Smile? After giving up on making conversation with the boy, I pulled a book sent to me by one of my fans out of my backpack. I published a book on true love that had made world news in a fortnight, and I was soon the poster boy for romance in today’s society. Up and coming teenage authors would send me manuscripts, which I would read and send back with advice on how to make it better, the catch being I did it for free so they did not need to pay an editor. I read the book, from an author in San Jose, for about an hour before I drifted off to sleep. It must have been an hour and a bit before someone shook my shoulder, waking me up. Embarrassed, I wiped the drool off my chin and slid my book deep into the bag. Then, I yawned and looked to see who had woken me. Sitting there with a significantly bright look on his face, as if he had been recently shocked, was the wiry-haired, quiet boy that was my bus mate. The boy said, “Before I tell you what my story is, I want you to tell me what you gathered from looking at me.” I paused for a moment, wondering what I should say. After a minute I said, “Well, in judging from the book you are reading, I believe you are a classical water colour artist. Judging by the fact that you did not answer me when I first asked you what your story is, I have come to the conclusion that you are shy. And finally, judging by the fact that you are sitting by yourself you don’t know anyone here at camp and by the fact that your clothes are wrinkled, I can guess you don’t care about what everyone else thinks of you. How much of that is right?” He looked at me for a moment, scanning me with X-Ray eyes and then his eyes got big as if he was going to cry. Then, he said, “100% of it. You missed the part that my parents are divorced though. Name’s Ryan, Ryan Winters. And you are?” He held out his hand and I took it, saying, “Kevin Parsons, famed romance author of the 21st century and the biggest seeker of danger that ever walked God’s fine earth.” He looked surprised and said, “That’s hardcore. I have heard of you, you got some incredible novels under your belt. What is a famous guy like you doing out here at a middle of nowhere camp?” I laughed and replied, “I live in Winnipeg and I have been here once before so I am going to give it another shot. I don’t really like camp because I am more of a mommy’s boy, but I am looking forward to do some mingling with the ladies.” He replied, “Well, I never knew mingling was a real thing, I thought it was just something you made up for your books. How about you go ‘mingle’ with that girl three rows up, she is real cute and I can tell you she has been eyeing you for about an hour.” I agreed and as I left my seat, Ryan slipped me a 5$ bill, for moral support as he called it. Shoving it in my pocket, I made my way down the aisle towards the girls’ seats. Just before I reached that row, the bus hit a huge pothole and I went flying head long into the row. Before I had a chance to react, I felt a strong female hand grab mine and lift me up. I wrenched open my eyes and observed my rescuer. She was a cute girl with brown hair and light green eyes, and was wearing a self-made shirt that said, “Hi my name is: Taylor”. I brushed the dust off of my pants and shook her hand saying, “Hello Taylor, I am Morgan. It is nice to meet you.” She giggled at me and invited me to sit down. I sat down between Taylor and her friend Casey and we began to talk. We talked for about an hour, and no sooner had I said goodbye to her and gone back to sit with Ryan that he pointed out the window and exclaimed, “Look, here we are!” I peered through the window and through a mushroom cloud of dust I noticed a sign that said, “Welcome to Camp Pinewood!” Within a few minutes of reaching the sign, the bus pulled to a screeching stop in front of the lodge. The lodge was magnificent. It was made of timber and towered over the trees around it, behind the picturesque setting was a gorgeous lake.