The Camping Series Book 1: Camp Starry Nights
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Sophie Jones
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17.5K
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51
Lake St. James returns to Camp Starry Nights hoping for a clean break from heartbreak, drama, and everything that has left him questioning who he is. The camp once felt like home, a place filled with laughter, late-night talks, and the kind of memories that glow long after summer ends. But this return is anything but simple. Familiar paths lead to familiar faces, including one person Lake never expected to see again. Old feelings stir beneath quiet glances and shared spaces, turning nostalgia into something deeper and harder to ignore. As the summer unfolds, Lake finds himself navigating past wounds, present tension, and the fragile hope that maybe some stories deserve another chance.
Chapter 1: Prologue
LAKE
The last time I saw Spencer Anderson, we were stuffing our suitcases with hoodies and photos, laughing so hard we could barely zip them up.
His ginger hair stuck out in every direction, and his round glasses kept sliding down his nose. He had these rosy cheeks and a giggle that made everyone else start laughing, too.
I remember thinking, I can’t wait until next summer. Just one more year, and we’ll be back here together.
Spencer was my best friend. We’d met at Camp Starry Nights when we were seven, and every summer since, we’d counted down the days until we could see each other again.
Even at twelve, it never got old. Camp was the best part of my year.
“Oh, Lake, I’m gonna miss you, bro!” Spencer grinned, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
He tried to act cool, but I could tell he was just as sad as I was. Leaving always sucked.
“I’ll miss you, too, Spence.”
I pulled him into a hug, breathing in that familiar smell—like laundry detergent and something sweet. It was the smell of home, or at least, the home we made together at camp.
“See you next year!” he called, climbing into his parents’ car.
He waved out the window as they drove away, his smile burned into my memory. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see him. I could hear his giggle, and his spot-on impression of Johnathan, the camp counselor we both loved to hate.
Those memories got me through the rest of the year. I’d start counting down the days to summer as soon as I got home, my stomach flipping with excitement every time I thought about seeing Spencer again.
But the summer I turned thirteen, everything changed.
I barely said goodbye to my parents before grabbing my huge backpack and running over to check in with Johnathan.
“Good morning, Lake,” Johnathan said, his voice so high-pitched it almost made me laugh.
I could already hear Spencer’s impression in my head, and I grinned, thinking about how we’d joke about it all summer.
“Good morning, Johnathan. Spence here yet?” I tried to peek at his clipboard, searching for Spencer’s name, but Johnathan pulled it to his chest.
He looked at me, and his face was weirdly serious.
“What?”
“Spencer’s not coming this year,” he said, his mouth a straight line.
I had a feeling he was a little relieved—no Spencer meant no trouble for him. But for me, it felt like my heart dropped straight into my stomach.
“Why?” I tried not to cry.
My nails dug into my palms, and I bit down hard on my tongue.
“I’m not sure, mate. His parents didn’t sign him up this year. I’m sure there’s a reason. But hey, you can use this summer to make new friends. Your new bunk buddy is Matty. Go say hi!”
Johnathan turned away, already talking to another kid, leaving me standing there alone.
Spencer and I always came early to camp so we could catch up before everyone else arrived. We’d sit on our beds—always next to each other—and trade stuff we’d brought from home.
I’d sneak him chocolate because his parents never let him have any, and he’d give me drawings. Spencer was an artist. He’d stop in the middle of a hike just to sketch a tree or try to draw me.
Every year, he got better. I couldn’t wait to see what he’d made this time. But I never got to.
That summer sucked. I spent most of it in silence, hoping Spencer would jump out from behind a tree and yell, “Sorry I’m late!” But he never did.
Instead, I was stuck with Matty, who was about as exciting as a doorknob. He talked nonstop about trains and golf and movies I’d never heard of. The more he talked, the more I missed Spencer.
***
“Is there a number for Spencer, Johnathan?” I asked after the first week. “I just want to see if he’s okay.”
“You didn’t even have his number to begin with?” Johnathan’s eyes went wide. I shook my head, feeling a little embarrassed.
We never thought to exchange numbers. Not once. Even though we wanted to talk all the time, it just never happened.
I remembered Spencer saying his mum didn’t like him giving out their number to just anyone. So we let it go and never brought it up again.
“Leave it to me, Lake. I’ll try and see if I can contact them, okay?” he said, his voice soft.
So I waited. I waited while we did arts and crafts in the food hall, rain pounding on the roof so loud it felt like the sky was falling.
I waited while the counselors turned the muddy field into an obstacle course, and kids slipped and cried and laughed. I waited every night, staring at Spencer’s empty bed—now Matty’s bed—trying not to cry.
One morning, before the sun was even up, Johnathan whispered, “Lake? Lake, Spencer’s on the phone!”
Just hearing his name jolted me awake. I jumped out of bed, the cabin floor freezing against my feet, but I didn’t care. I was about to talk to Spencer.
I shoved my feet into my slippers and ran straight to the counselor’s office.
“Spence!” I yelled into the phone, dropping into the chair at Johnathan’s desk.
The office was just a cramped room with five desks, each one covered in old computers and tangled phone cords. Every desk had a name tag. Johnathan’s was made out of cardboard, gold letters and glitter everywhere. I could tell he made it during arts and crafts.
“Lake.” Spencer’s voice was so quiet, and I could hear the sadness in it.
“Why aren’t you here?” I asked, my voice small.
I knew I sounded like a little kid, but I didn’t care. My best friend was gone.
I thought I heard someone talking in the background, but maybe it was just the phone cutting out. That happened a lot at camp.
“I—I can’t come to camp anymore. I’ve, um, outgrown it.”
His words sounded forced, like he was reading from a script. I knew it wasn’t his choice. It had to be his parents. But why? He always loved camp.
“Of course you haven’t outgrown it! I miss you, Spence. I wanted to see you. Isn’t there any other way we can see each other again?” My voice cracked.
The thought of waiting another year felt impossible. My friends at home just weren’t the same.
There was a long silence. I tried to hold back my tears, but it was useless. Then Spencer said something that broke me in half.
“We’re never seeing each other again, Lake. We aren’t friends anymore. Goodbye.”
The dial tone buzzed in my ear, sharp and cold. But honestly, anything was better than hearing those words.
I cried the rest of the day. I cried so hard they had to send me home early.
And it wasn’t until Spencer said those words that I realized it—I was in love with him. I was in love with Spencer Anderson, and I was never going to see him again.
