raised up about ten feet off the rocks and sand below.
Jade walked to the first bungalow, gracefully climbing the stairs to the doorway. “Here you go.”
Tristan followed, taking each step with much greater care. A wooden Seasquirts sign hung over the entrance. Like the other buildings in the park, the bungalow was constructed of white stucco, dark wood beams, and bamboo.
“This way,” Jade called from inside.
Tristan swung open a door made of thick bamboo poles. He stepped into a large, airy room with a high, beamed ceiling. Several cushy couches and comfy-looking chairs were scattered about and there was a rectangular dark wooden table with matching benches. But what really took his breath away—again—was the view. The entire back wall of the bungalow had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the turquoise lagoon. It wasn’t the rundown log cabin or tent he’d expected. This was definitely unlike any summer camp he’d ever heard of. Tristan heard girls’ voices coming from an adjoining room to the right. He headed that way.
“In here,” Jade shouted from the opposite direction.
Tristan followed her voice to a small bedroom. Inside, there were two sets of bunk beds, one against each wall. Jade stood next to one of the bunks where a dark-haired boy about Tristan’s age sat cross-legged on the lower bed reading from an iPad.
“Tristan, this is Hugh. He got here earlier.”
They nodded at one another saying, “Hi.”
“Well, that’s it for me. Be at the Conch Café in an hour. It’s on your maps,” Jade instructed happily. “And don’t be late. The director really hates it when we’re late. Okay, see ya.”
Tristan watched Jade jog out the room, her ponytail bouncing the entire time.
“Are the people here all like her? So, uh perky?” Tristan asked.
“I certainly hope not,” Hugh said from the shadows of the lower bunk.
Tristan looked at the pile of clothes on the other lower bed then warily eyed the top bunks. He was about as good at climbing as he was at walking without tripping, stumbling or running into something.
“You’ll have to take one of the top beds,” Hugh told him. “You can take the one over me, if you want. Ryder’s the guy in the other lower bunk. Well, let’s just say it might be easier climbing over me than him.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Tristan threw his backpack onto the top bunk.
Hugh poked his head out, pointing to a tan towel embroidered with “Seasquirts” hanging off the end of the top bunk. “That’s yours and there’s more in the closet in the bathroom. There’s also a drawer under the bunk for your stuff and some shelves you can use.”
“Where’s the other guy, what’s-his-name?”
“Ryder, he went to catch up with some of the older kids he says he already knows. I think he said they’re in the Squids bungalow. Better than being a Seasquirt, that’s for sure.”
Tristan nodded. “Yeah, who came up with that name?”
“Guess it’s supposed to make us work hard to move up to the Snapper bungalow or something.”
Tristan spent the next ten minutes or so unpacking his things. Hugh sat quietly reading, saying little. When there was just a small hill of clothing left on his bed, Tristan took the map out of his welcome packet. It showed a detailed layout of the Sea Park. “So where’s this Conch Café we’re supposed to go to?”
“I tried looking it up using my map app, but the satellite link doesn’t seem to work here. Must be in a dead zone or something,” Hugh replied. “We’ll have to go the old-fashioned way. A paper map—how low-tech.”
Hugh got up to get his copy of the map out of a backpack on the floor nearby. Whereas Tristan was long and lean, Hugh was short and a bit pudgy. His dark hair was neatly combed, cut to just above his ears. He wore a navy blue IZOD shirt and knee-length, well-pressed khaki shorts with a matching canvas belt.
Tristan wondered if they were supposed to dress up for the first day of camp. He had on his black board shorts and a T-shirt his mother bought him during their last visit to the aquarium. It was gray with the black silhouette of a shark wrapping around from the front to the back where it said “A Shark Ate My Homework.”
“Looks like this Conch Café is on the other side of the park, between the wave pool and theater,” Tristan noted.
“Yes, that appears to be correct,” Hugh confirmed, looking at the map.
“Does that mean we have to go through that wall thing again?”
“Yeah, but I’ve done it a couple times. It’s not too bad.”
Tristan wasn’t so sure.
TRISTAN AND HUGH WALKED THE SHORT TRAIL back to the jungle wall. Luckily, there was a steady stream of kids making their way through. The older campers were about fifteen to seventeen years old. They nearly ran through, testing how fast the vines reacted as they stepped on each rock. The younger teens were less confident, hopping from rock to rock more hesitantly. Twelve-year-olds Tristan and Hugh were among the youngest there. They happily followed on the heels of an older boy with flaming red hair and a face full of freckles. He smiled at them, subtly encouraging them through the wall, without making a show of it. Tristan went slowly, but still stumbled a few times. Fortunately he never did a full face-plant or fell completely off the sea creature rocks.
By the time they got through the wall, most of the other kids were long gone. Tristan and Hugh figured the few campers left were also going to the Conch Café. Only problem was they seemed to be going in two different directions. Some kids headed down a path to the left, while the others were taking a walkway that went straight through the middle of the park.
“Which way should we go?” Tristan asked.
Hugh took out his map. “Either direction will get us efficiently to the Conch Café. One way goes along part of the lagoon. The other goes through the streams and rainforest area. By my calculation, there isn’t much difference in distance between the two. If we walk at the same pace, we should get there at an equivalent time either way. If I had my map app . . .”
Tristan stared at Hugh, his eyes glazing over as the boy continued to talk. “Uh, how ‘bout we just go through the park?” Thinking that in the future if he needed a quick decision, Hugh might not be the best person to ask.
“Okay,” Hugh replied surprisingly succinctly.
Tristan led the way onto a stone walkway lined by tall palm trees and bushes bursting
