take a knee

to the rescue || jessa + devie

Garbage. Who the hell had even left the trash somewhere that animals could get into it? Walking toward the lake from her cabin, she sighed, already spotting floating hunks of rubbish bobbing in the water as she crested the hill. She stopped for a moment and turned her basball cap forward, using the brim to shield the mid-day sun out of her eyes. The hat was camouflage, much like everything else she was wearing. Camo leggings, a camo t-shirt - emblazoned with a green A - and some well-worn combat boots tied the rest of her ensemble together, along with some grease paint swiped across her cheeks and a safety bow from the archery field - a suction cup on the tip, of course. The hunting gear seemed like a fitting costume for her alias: Artemis, protector of the woods and the campers of Camp Greco. And, it seemed, a super collector of garbage. 

“Probably this one, though,” Tyler said, pointing at her while looking out the window like he was talking to the frog. Unable to keep joking, he turned back to her. “Hey now! Kermit is very obviously a muppet, and you’re the dumbass for not making the distinction. You have offended muppets everywhere.”

“Probably,” she threw back, chuckling, though she raised an eyebrow in mock-judgement of Tyler’s defensiveness. “Are you a muppet? Calm down, dude,” and she shook her head, trying not to laugh. “But sorry, y’know, for offending the delicate muppet population.”

“Much better than that Beaver kid or whatever his name was.” Ailey let out a laugh. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her body humming with pent up energy. She was often energetic like this. “It could definitely be worse.”

She quirked an eyebrow, assuming the girl meant Justin Bieber, then moved right along, leaving the topic behind. Crossing her slender arms in front of her chest, Jessa asked, “So, what’s your name? I’m Jessa, by the way.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my chances. I’m sure most feisty little blondes I could take. Perhaps not all.” He chuckled at her next comment. “Kermit all right? He’s not actually slimy, and who could hate “Rainbow Connection”? And not all froggy things have warts. I feel like that is an important fact for you to be aware of.”

“’Perhaps not a;ll’ is an important distinction, mister,” she teased back, and then rolled her eyes. “Kermit is a puppet, dumbass, you knew what I meant. And warts or otherwise, they’re unwelcome in my personal space bubble. I like to maintain a strictly frog-gree environment.”

Tyler grinned and said, “But you look so enthusiastic and ready to go. I’d hate to get in the way of that.” Even as he teased, Tyler moved toward her to pick up a couple. “You know I always liked kickball better as a kid. You take half for baseball while I take the rest for this? We should have enough kids for it to work out.”

“Rude,” she shot pack, sticking her tongue out playfully, “it’s a good thing you decided to do the right thing and help me, though, I was fully prepared to throw one of these at your big head.” Laughing, she tossed the rest of them into a standing, empty bin and bent down to pick up a duffel bag full of bats, balls and gloves. “Kickball?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, “Sure, Coach, whatever tickles your pickle. But how about we swap  groups midweek - say Wednesday or Thursday? The kids should at least get a chance to try both.”

“I’ll definitely be right. I’m Connor, by the way,” he introduced, running a quick hand through his hair. He noticed the notebook in her hands and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Again: we’ll see, Connor,” and she gave a quick wave, tacking on, “I’m Jessa, for introductions’ sake and whatnot.” Putting the pencil back to paper, she nodded and spoke again. “Lesson plan. I’m working in Sports this week, and if the kids don’t play like major leaguers by Friday, I will feel as though I’ve personally failed them; gotta be prepared.”

“How did you survive the real world before me?” He loved that- feeling like his presence was needed. It gave him life; a better energy-booster than the mug of coffee he chugged back earlier that morning. Matthew took it upon himself to “Kobe” each ball into the bin, shooting it with an L-Formation coming from his arms, hoping to reach nothing but “net” each time. “If you learn one thing about me this entire summer is that I’m the person who never needs help. I’m the– the superhero, if you will.” Matt smiled at the realization, given the week that they were given. “Helper-Man isn’t a lame name, is it?” Matt had mused out loud his sudden burst of inspiration for a superhero name. He grabbed another ball, this time trying to pass it behind his back and into a spot inside the bin - it bounced off the edge and rolled away. Matthew jogged over to pick it up. He looked back up just in time to catch Jessa’s gesture, and crooked grin found its way onto his face. “I got Music Education this week, so I spent most of the night trying to learn the chords to a Beatles’ album. I only got to Lucy in the Sky before I passed out. The slow internet here made learning a three minute song take three hours, otherwise I would have taught myself some more.”

“I didn’t,” she replied with a shrug, “I’ve just been struggling on the brink of non-existence for the past twenty-two years, and luckily, it seems like I finally have someone to save me from myself.” She didn’t mind playing along, the idea that she couldn’t figure out the world around her seemed to be far nicer than the reality; besides, it was nice to have someone to rely on for once. Giving a golf clap as she watched him rocket the balls into the bin, chuckling at his suggestion. “It’s super lame, but it kinda fits. And ‘The Helping Hand’ sounds probably a bit too pornographic for summer camp, so your options are slim. I was thinking ‘Gym Class Hero,’ for myself, or maybe go old-school Greek mythology and just make everyone call me Artemis. Get, like, a bow and shit,” Picking up the last of the stray balls, she tossed them underhand into their new home and headed for the sunlight that streamed through the open door, grabbing a baseball on her way out and dropping it a pile of worn gloves on the field. “Not bad, maestro,” she answered with a nod, “probably a good idea sticking with the classics. I bet if you learn some One Direction, though, the little girls will just about love you.” Looking around the field, she suddenly felt far more at home on the baseball diamond than she had anywhere else at camp, and she had a feeling it was going to be a good week, and possibly, maybe even a great summer. “Maybe you can just get the kids to call you Music Man,” she mused, giggling, “get a cape covered in music notes and whatnot.”

Connor raised his eyebrows at her sarcasm, noting that she probably holding back some of her attitude. What was with people working here if it wasn’t something they thought they’d enjoy? It was hard for him to comprehend not enjoying Greco, but that was because he loved it so much (he was biased, maybe). “It’ll happen. Theres no way you’ll leave here not loving Greco just a little bit.”

“Well,” she replied, eyes flitting up from the notebook in her hands to meet his face, “I still have two-ish months left to go, so who knows, maybe you’ll be right; we’ll see.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. Finally, someone acknowledged his hard work. She had a point, he probably was happier than a lot of the campers. At least for now. It took a while for some of the campers to really start enjoying themselves - it was early into the summer anyways. “Yah, I wasn’t as happy to come here as a camper either, but Greco grows on you.” 

“Does it now,” though it was less a question and more a statement, and try as she might, Jessa couldn’t seem to contain the sarcasm in her voice. “I would’t say I hate it here,” she admitted, “but I definitely am waiting for it to grow on me, so to speak.”

“Bats? O-oh..” Jessa’s enthusiasm was infectious, and she couldn’t help but be pulled along, throwing the balls into the corner like the blonde instructed before quickly grabbing two baseballs left on top of a cabinet. Closing the door behind her, the sunlight streaming through the trees were such a bright constrast to the recreation equipment shed, that Olivia had to squint as she followed Jessa out into the grassy knoll. Finally, reaching the top, the girl turned to her companion, lightly throwing one baseball up with one hand, catching it with a small, truimphant smile, “Well, if you want to test out your teaching skills, I– I guess I could be the perfect experimental student. Fair warning, I’m not that great at sports, so if I get the hang of this, any campers that come your way will probably be pro in no time.” 

Stepping back into the sunlight, Jessa felt right at home with the heat of the day on her skin. Dropping the bats to the grass, she tilted her head forward and gathered her blonde hair into a messy bun at the top of her head, sweat already beading on her neck. “I’m sure you’re not that bad,” she replied with a chuckle, and she squatted down to retreive the supplies. Pulling free a wooden bat and a couple gloves, she slipped the worn, leather mitt on her left hand, and as she stood back up, held it in front of her. “Throw it here,: she told Olivia, offering a grin, and asking offhandedly, “Do you at least know how to bat?”

Connor looked around and let out a sigh of relief. He was happy to be back at Camp Greco. Not only was it his “happy place”, but it was his last summer and he was going to make the most of it. “I don’t think anyone will understand how fuc-reakin’ happy I am to be back here,” he said, catching his curse word. He was going to have to get back into the habit of holding those words in.

“Nice save,” she shot back, chuckling under her breath, not even sure if the stranger was talking to her. “And I think I understand - you look happier to be here than half the kids in my cabin.”

Devie let out a squeal of excitement, “Hey!  You got sports, that’s so perfect!  I got Lifeguarding…” She trailed off uncertainly.  She wasn’t exactly the strongest swimmer, so things would probably be okay as long as no one decided to drown.  Squealing again at the avalanche of dodgeballs, she rushed forward, “Oh crud - are you okay?!  Did any of them get you?”  Not that much force had been behind it, but you never knew, they could have hurt.  And that was the last thing she wanted, for anyone to get hurt.  “Yeah!  Yeah, of course!  I’m not on duty until this afternoon, anyway”, Devs immediately fell to the floor, starting to pick up the dodgeballs.  Completely calculating wrong, she tried to scoop up too many, and they all bounced out, one managing to ricochet off the wall and hit her in the arm.  “Ow - dangit.”

“Right?” She’d felt utterly clueless working in theater the first week of camp, but the chips finally seemed to be falling in place - at least until she wound up elsewhere. “That should be fun, though - lifeguard, I mean. I doubt any of the kids are gonna die, and you can spend the week getting tan. Not a bad gig.” Nodding in thanks, she continued to pick up the pile, grateful for the help. Jessa winced as she saw Devie lose her armful, and she turned her head in concern. “You alright?” the blonde asked, chewing on her lip, “I can finish up here if you want,” and she tried not to laugh.

Percy let out a sharp bout of laughter. “Butthead? What are you twelve? Are you actually a camper and not a counselor?”

Jessa rolled her eeys. “Trust me, if there wasn’t a risk of the kids overhearing, I’d have a whole different set of words for you. But for now, yes, butthead suits you.”

Percy was just passing by on his way to the theater, which, to be honest, he was made for, when a bunch of bright dodgeballs basically stampeded. “Holy shit.” He snorted, amused, seeing his not so favorite counselor probably unintentionally ask him for help. “Me? Give you a hand?”

She’d only seen the silhouette pass by the doorway, figuring whoever it was would be happy to lend her some help. Turning her head at the sound of the voice, though, she saw who it was and her eyes nearly rolled out of her head.” “Ugh, she groaned aloud, “actually, nope, I’m fine. Move along,” and she proceeded to clean up her mess as though he weren’t even there.

There’s a small (small for now, at least) twinge of jealously within Matthew, given the fact that he was looking forward to finally achieving a spot in working with sports with the kids. He knew the jobs were randomized, but, if he needed to work in something that gave a better chance for competition before he started to crack - and he could feel that moment arriving rather soon. However, Matthew would be lying if he didn’t feel somewhat better at the avalanche that had happened; better to happen to Jessa than himself. Except, Matthew could only look at the mess for so long before it started to make him feel uncomfortable and he couldn’t turn down Jessa’s plea. He put down the guitar that he had in hand and sped-walk towards the blonde, picking up the first dodgeball that he came in contact with. “I’m starting to think you wouldn’t survive this camp without me, given how every time we met so far, I’m always helping you out.” 

“Hey,” she whined, faux-hurt in her voice, “that’s not fair. Just because I’m completely helpless doesn’t mean I wouldn’t survive.” She pursed her lips, holding in a smirk. Throwing the dodgeballs one by one into an empty bin, she looked at Matt again. “And it’s not like I won’t get you back; I’m sure one of these days I’ll save your ass, Chef Boyardee.” Continuing to clean up her mess, she paused for a second, before adding on, “You’re pretty good, y’know,” and she gestured toward the instrument he’d discarded by the shed door, “on the guitar, I mean.”