The late morning sun filtered through the thick trees, casting dappled light on the open campsite surrounded by forest. The camp was divided into two distinct areas—an open, empty field near the entrance, and to its left, a cluster of tents nestled on the inner side, humming with anticipation.
In the middle was a large and tall campfire that was stacked with logs setup, the space inside that big for the kitchen. Among the scattered tents, the red ones stood out against the dominant blue in their own respective area, creating a colorful patchwork on the green ground.
Teachers, including Mr. Lawson and Ms. Lyra, had already arrived. They took a van, which was faster than the autobuses and had overtaken them. They scanned the horizon for the arriving buses, ready to greet each one.
As the first bus approached, the Achievers batch stepped off, their faces alight with the thrill of adventure. The feeling of anticipation enveloped them as all the students gathered at the secluded campsite.
They were immediately captivated by the camp’s natural setting and the sight of the old school building visible in the distance, the area of the camp and the building is in separated place. A dense forest stands between the camp and the abandoned building, its thick canopy casting deep shadows across the grounds.
The building loomed in the distance, forgotten by time but not entirely lost. Something—or someone—seemed to be watching over it, preserving its defiant stance amidst the creeping wilderness. Birds flitted around its moss-covered façade, adding a touch of life to the otherwise forsaken structure.
“That’s the old school!” one student exclaimed, pointing toward the structure. “So antique,” another murmured, eyes wide with fascination. The batch of group collectively gasped in awe, their eyes fixed on the building that, despite its abandonment and the encroaching nature, still stood proud and seemingly untamed.
“Does the school do anything to take care of that building?” another student curiously asked, turning to the teachers.
Mr. Thomas leaned in toward Ms. Lyra and whispered, “The students still don’t know why it was really abandoned.” Hearing this, Ms. Lyra looked ready to explain to the students, but Mr. Lawson interrupted, his voice carrying over to them.
“It’s due to safety concerns and its isolation. It makes it difficult for any emergency services to get there promptly,” Mr. Lawson explained, his voice casual and firm. Ms. Lyra bit her lip, puzzled by the interruption.
Perhaps Mr. Lawson wants to prevent the students from panicking and make this camp safer without them knowing, Lyra glanced at Mr. Lawson.
With the arrival of the Achievers group complete, the only group left to arrive was the one known to cause trouble. A few minutes passed, with Mr. Lawson observing the approaching bus.
As he prepared to make his announcements at the wooden podium, Mr. Lawson glanced over and noticed the bus. He could already sense trouble as the bus wobbled closer.
“These students are really problematic,” he murmured to himself, a frown forming as he prepared for their arrival.
As the bus came to a gentle stop, a suppressed cacophony of noise could be heard through the windows—shouts, laughter, and cheers spilling through the windows. The chaotic energy of mischief and excitement had reached its boiling point.
As the bus door swung open, chaos erupted. Mr. Lawson didn’t waste a second—he marched onto the bus, his stern figure cutting through the noise. Everyone outside held their breath, waiting to see how the storm would break.
The energy inside the bus was flooded with emotions. Amidst the chaos, Axka found himself cheering on, his voice lost in the crowd of noise.
‘DON'T LET HIM FUCK YOUR ASS, DUDE!’ Axka hollered, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. He grinned to himself, the bus swirled with noise and excitement. It was moments like these that made the camp feel alive—wild, untamed, and free.
“SILENCE EVERYONE!” a sudden voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. Axka swiftly turned his head to see Mr. Lawson at the front of the bus, demanding immediate attention.
“Oh shit, here we go,” Axka whispered to those nearby. Like a wave, the noisy tumult receded as every student turned to look, mirroring Axka’s action. The fighters at the back clumsily regained their footing, their earlier aggression giving way to rubbing their bruised cheeks and jaws.
Mr. Lawson stood sternly at the front, his eyes sweeping over the students with disapproval. “Everyone off the bus and take your belongings, now.” He pointed out the exit, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Except you two,” he added, directing his attention to the fighters.
Everyone started to move, hurriedly exiting the bus. As Axka stepped off, the echoes of Mr. Lawson’s scolding faded behind him, carrying the unmistakable tone of a lecture about respect and discipline aimed at the two fighters.
After the Mavericks took their belongings from the bus’s storage, Ms. Lyra quickly gathered them together, her voice soft yet firm. “Everyone! Gather here, okay? We don’t want you mixing with the other group,” she directed, her eyes scanning the batch for compliance.
It was then that Axka realized Caden was missing, but his attention was drawn to the old school building, its mysterious allure catching his interest as if something was hidden there. Just then, Smitty’s voice pulled him back to the present.
“Can you believe that building?” Smitty exclaimed, his eyes wide with fascination, mesmerized by the building’s architecture. “It looks like it’s straight out of a ghost movie.”
Some of the students, including Aime and Takoda, were momentarily distracted from Mr. Lawson's scolding silhouette visible through the bus window, his voice faintly audible but muffled. They took in the sight of the old building with a mix of amazement and curiosity.
“Yeah,” Takoda murmured, glancing back at Mr. Lawson’s shadowy figure. “But right now, I’m more worried about surviving Lawson’s ghost story.”
Aime, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder if the camp used to have football games. Look at all this space.”
“That would've been something,” Axka mused aloud, his eyes drifting to the trees and fence that encircled their surroundings. It reminded him of the countless times they’d jumped over their school iron fence, though this one was overgrown with nature.
“Hey, remember how easy it was to hop the fence back at school? Looks like this place has its own version.” Axka pointed to the iron fences.
Smitty laughed, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Bet this ground has seen better days, maybe even football glory days. Doesn't look like much now, though.”
No sooner had the bus's noise quietened. Mr. Lawson emerged, his presence commanding silence and respect. He gestured for the two fighters to get off the bus and follow him towards the wooden podium set up near near their previous bus stop. The rest of the students trailed behind in their respective group, curious about the unfolding events.
Gathering the students around, Mr. Lawson began to formally welcome them:
“Welcome, everyone, to your Guiding Camp Program. As you can see, the old school building is visible from here,” he said, holding his microphone and pointing toward the distant structure.
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“The area around the central campfire includes the sleeping quarters and common area. The bathrooms are near the edge of the tall trees and face the field, while the cooking area is adjacent to the large campfire in the center.”
Mr. Lawson paused to scan the crowd before introducing the participating teachers. “Before I further acquaint you with the camp, I’m pleased to introduce the teachers in this program. I’m Mr. Norman Lawson, your disciplinary teacher…”
As each teacher’s name was announced, they stepped up to the wooden podium for their formal presentation.
“…Ms. Lyra Katsaros, and finally…” Mr. Lawson’s voice trailed off, building anticipation for the arrival of their beloved teacher. “…Mr. Caden Stoddard." A wave of excited cheers erupted from the students.
However, the excitement quickly turned to confusion as Caden did not appear. Mr. Lawson tried calling him again, his voice growing increasingly perplexed and impatient. “…I welcome Mr. Caden…” Murmurs spread through the crowd as everyone wondered, “Huh? Where is he?”
After several attempts, Mr. Lawson’s tone grew frustrated. “…Mr. Caden…!” Axka smirked to himself, amused by the situation. Oh, I wonder what’s going to happen this time.
Just then, a jungle call yell echoed from behind Mr. Lawson. Caden, dressed as a jungle man swung in from the trees, landing with a playful thud on the podium. With a smirk, he raised a long stick like a spear. “YAHHH!” he bellowed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. The camp erupted into laughter and applause, thoroughly entertained by his entrance.
Mr. Lawson, momentarily taken aback, quickly regained his composure. “WHAT ARE YOU—” he began, his tone a mix of disbelief and irritation. Then, cutting himself off, he shifted to a more formal tone. “Mr. Caden Stoddard!” The camp’s atmosphere shifted from confusion to jubilation as Caden’s unconventional arrival broke the ice.
Caden surveyed the scene with a playful yet questioning look. “Hey, why are these kids disturbing my stage?” he asked, navigating between the two students who had been at the center of the commotion earlier.
As he placed his hands on their shoulders, Mr. Lawson interjected, “This, Mr. Caden,” he said, gesturing towards the students, “this is precisely why we need to keep them separated. To you, they may just be students, but their actions can cause problems for others who wish to avoid such conflicts.” He paused before adding, “I’m glad I didn’t take your suggestion to mix them all together.”
Caden furrowed his brow. “Why are they up here?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-genuinely curious.
Mr. Lawson folded his arms. “I intended to give them some ‘special guidance’ after my speech,” he replied, his voice dripping with authority. Caden’s smirk widened, though his confusion lingered beneath it. “What’s 'special guidance' again…? And what exactly are you trying to do?”
Mr. Lawson’s patience frayed. “You’re no different from them, Caden. You’re a teacher. You should know better.” Mr. Lawson paused, he scans at both fighters, their face down to the ground. “I will have them stand here on one leg, holding their belongings, until they learn that this is harder than brawling.”
Caden was incredulous. “Are you kidding me? This camp is about guiding them, not torturing them.”
Ms. Lyra, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up. “Yes, I agree. Please, Mr. Lawson, don’t be so harsh on them. Let them off this time, sir. They’re still kids.”
Hearing this, Axka immediately whispered to Aime and Smitty, “Damn, it’s ironic coming from her. We just got punished by her recently, and you two guys even hurt both of your legs.” They nodded in agreement, murmuring, “Yeah.”
Takoda leaned in, “Well, you've got a point, but I don't think it’s harder than that punishment, dude.”
“Yeah, maybe you're right,” Axka conceded, turning their attention back to the drama on the podium.
Mr. Lawson’s face hardened. “These kids need to learn the hard way,” he insisted, his voice colder than before. To him, discipline was the backbone of success, and he wouldn’t let a few unruly students undermine that. But Caden wasn’t having it. “And what if one of them collapses, Lawson? You want their parents breathing down our necks because you thought tough love was the answer?”
After a brief silence, Mr. Lawson hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “Fine, but make sure they learn their lesson.” Caden grinned, trying to ease the tension between them. “I got this, don’t worry,” as he playfully ruffled the hair of both students.
Stepping in front of them, Caden noticed that the fighters were looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed. Their favorite teacher had defended them, but instead of feeling relief, shame gnawed at them. They had let him down, and the weight of it settled like a stone in their chests. Despite their earlier bravado, it was clear they were now ashamed of their actions, especially in the presence of someone they admired.
Caden looked down at them with a mischievous smirk. “Hey, chin up. I just saved y’all’s asses, okay? Don’t overthink it,” he teased, his tone light but firm.
Caden scanned the surrounding tented area, planning the right lesson for both fighters. “How about this: You two, set up the girls' tents. Cool with that?” His smile was encouraging.
“Yes, Mr. Caden. Thank you and sorry, sir,” they responded in unison, though a hint of guilt remained in their voices.
“No worries, okay?” Caden reassured them, offering a supportive smile.
Then, Caden turned to the wider group, he playfully grabbed the microphone from Mr. Lawson, who could only muttered “Hey—” as Caden cutting him off with a grin.
“Are the girls okay with these handsome guys setting up your camp while you girls help us make lunch?” Caden asked, seeking the Achievers group girls' consent.
Their affirmative “yes” was met with Caden's satisfied "Alright, cool." Mr. Lawson, standing to the side, wore a look of annoyance, clearly unsatisfied with Caden's approach to 'special guidance.'
Caden continued, turning his charm towards the teachers. “While they're setting up, I want the Achievers boys to set up a few teachers' tents. Like our beautiful and gorgeous Ms. Lyra over here,” he flirted openly, causing Ms. Lyra to smile with a slight blush at the compliment. He went on, “Then you guys help the girls prepare for our lunch. Are you good boys okay with that?” The boys from Achievers batch replied energetically, “YES!”
“While the rest of you hyper boys are setting up the rest of the tents,” he glanced at the Mavericks batch, prompting a resigned sigh from Aime. “Damn it,” he muttered, but Caden quickly injected a bit of humor.
“I’m sorry, boys. I know the tents are twice your numbers, but our ‘security camera’ here is watching you perform.” He gave a sarcastic smirk, eliciting light laughter from the batch of Mavericks.
Mr. Lawson managed to reclaim the microphone, his annoyance evident. “Well, are you done yet? I still have to continue my speech.”
Caden grinned, walking to the back corner of the podium and took a drink he placed before the campers came. “No, I'm cool. I'm going to enjoy this coconut ice blend while watching them,” showcasing his drink with casual ease.
“Alright, guys. You can start now,” Caden announced, prompting everyone to begin their tasks. As the students dispersed to their respective duties, Mr. Lawson's face flushed with frustration as his speech was left unfinished, he started shouting at the students. “Stop! I still have something to say!” His voice rising in anger.
The sudden outburst startled some of the students, but Caden, with a calm demeanor, stepped forward. “Keep going, everyone,” Caden reassured them, his voice cutting through the tension. “You won’t have to worry about him. I know Mr. Lawson's speeches can be a bit... boring.” Caden then encouraged the two boys once more, “You guys can go now.”
Mr. Lawson stormed over, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I knew letting you into this program was a mistake, no matter what the principal says.” His words were a hiss, cutting through the camp's chatter. Ms. Lyra stepped in. “Mr. Lawson,” she said gently, placing a hand on his arm, “Please calm down. He’s got it under control. You’ve got to have faith in him. He's the reason most of the students are more excited about school now.”
Mr. Lawson’s response was curt. “You better be right about this,” he said, before turning his attention to supervising the students with a cautious demeanor.
Caden, taking a moment to acknowledge Ms. Lyra’s support, said with a slight smirk, “Thanks for backing me up.” Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he flirted, “Wanna get married?”
Ms. Lyra caught off guard but not for the first time. She blushed, her eyes lingering on him. “You’re impossible, Caden,” she whispered, her smile soft but knowing. “But...maybe one day,” she added, almost teasingly before turning to follow the girls.
As she walked away, Caden’s smirk faded, replaced by a quiet ache that tugged at his chest. He watched her retreat, wanting to call her back, to say more. But instead, he stood there for a moment, he pressed his lips, the weight of unspoken words pressing down. He swallowed hard and forced a smile.
“One day…” he muttered under his breath, though the words felt heavier than he intended. Rolling his shoulders, he turned back to the camp, hiding pain deep within. “Alright, time to get to work,” he murmured to himself, moving forward to oversee the camp activities.