Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 63
Drop-Off

The drive to Pine Ridge took two hours. Dad had loaded up the car the night before—Ash's duffel bag, sleeping bag, pillow, a smaller bag with toiletries and supplies, a new backpack with his name embroidered on it (Mom's insistence).

They left at 8 AM on a Saturday morning. Check-in was from 10 to 11, then orientation, then parents were expected to leave by noon so the campers could settle in without prolonged goodbyes.

"You nervous?" Dad asked about twenty minutes into the drive.

"Yeah."

"That's normal. I was nervous too when my dad dropped me off. Threw up in the parking lot, actually."

Ash looked at him. "Really?"

"Really. I was so worked up about it that my stomach couldn't handle it. My dad just handed me some napkins, told me I'd be fine, and drove away." Dad smiled at the memory. "And he was right. Once he left and I met my cabin mates, I was fine."

"What if I'm not fine?"

"Then you deal with it. That's part of growing up—learning that you can handle hard things." Dad glanced at him. "But I think you will be fine. You're good with other kids. You're athletic. You like sports. This is your element."

Ash looked out the window at the passing scenery. They were heading into the mountains, the roads getting narrower and more winding. Trees everywhere. It was beautiful in a way that made his stomach tighten with anxiety.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Away from home, from Mom, from his room, from everything familiar.

The strange thing was, he'd done this before. Been away from home. Gone to college, lived in dorms, shared rooms with strangers. Had spent years living independently as an adult.

But this was different. Then, he'd had autonomy. Control. The ability to leave if things went wrong. He'd had a phone, money, the freedom to make his own choices.

Now he was eleven. In a child's body. Being dropped off at camp by his father with no way to leave if he wanted to. Dependent on counselors and camp staff. Following someone else's schedule, someone else's rules.

The vulnerability of it made his stomach twist in a way college never had.

"Did you bring the letter Mom gave you?" Dad asked.

"Yeah."

Mom had written him a letter—sealed in an envelope with "Open if you're feeling homesick" written on the front. She'd tucked it into his toiletries bag last night, along with stamped envelopes addressed to home so he could write back.

"And you have your phone for the drive back, in case—"

"Dad, I don't have a phone."

"Right. Well, you can call us during designated phone times. They'll give you the schedule at orientation." Dad was quiet for a moment. "I'm proud of you for doing this, you know. It takes courage to try new things."

"You didn't really give me a choice."

"I gave you a choice. You chose to trust me that this would be good for you." Dad's voice was gentle. "And it will be. I promise."

They drove in silence for a while. Ash watched the mountains get closer, the trees get denser. Saw signs for Pine Ridge—first 30 miles away, then 20, then 10.

"We're almost there," Dad said unnecessarily.

Ash's stomach did a flip.

Pine Ridge Sports Academy was beautiful in a way that seemed designed to reassure parents and intimidate kids.

The entrance had a large wooden sign with the camp name carved into it, surrounded by stone pillars. A paved road wound through the trees, opening up to reveal a central area with multiple buildings—a main lodge, what looked like administrative offices, a dining hall, a recreation center.

Beyond that, Ash could see sports fields. Multiple baseball diamonds, soccer fields, basketball courts. A large swimming pool. Further back, cabins nestled among the trees. In the distance, a lake glittered in the morning sun.

The parking lot was packed with cars. Parents unloading gear, kids standing nervously by their bags, counselors in matching Pine Ridge staff shirts directing traffic.

"Here we are," Dad said, pulling into a spot. "Ready?"

"Not really."

"Too bad. We're doing this anyway." But Dad's tone was kind. "Come on. Let's get checked in."

They unloaded Ash's bags—heavier than they'd seemed at home, packed with two weeks' worth of clothes and supplies. A young woman with a clipboard approached them.

"Welcome to Pine Ridge! Camper's name?"

"Noam Walsh," Dad said.

She checked her list. "Walsh, Noam. Perfect. You're in Cabin 7, the Eagles. Your counselor is Brett Kowalski. Let's get you your welcome packet and cabin assignment sheet."

They followed her to a check-in table under a canopy. More staff members, more clipboards, organized chaos of dozens of families going through the same process.

Ash received a folder with his name on it, containing a schedule, a map of the camp, a list of rules, emergency contact information, and a Pine Ridge t-shirt.

"The t-shirt is mandatory for camp activities," the staff member explained. "We have two all-camp events where everyone wears them—opening night bonfire and closing night banquet. Otherwise, any athletic clothes are fine."

Dad was signing forms, giving emergency contact information, authorizing medical treatment if necessary. The reality of it hit Ash—his parents wouldn't be here. If something happened, camp staff would handle it. He'd be on his own.

"Alright, Mr. Walsh, you're all set," the staff member said. "Cabin 7 is that way—" she pointed toward a cluster of cabins on the east side of the complex. "Brett should be there already with your other cabin mates. You can help Noam get settled, but we ask that all parents be off campus by noon."

"Understood. Thank you."

They carried Ash's bags toward Cabin 7. Other families were doing the same thing—nervous kids, reassuring parents, the organized chaos of arrival day.

Cabin 7 was one of eight cabins in a cluster. Wooden structure, front porch with rocking chairs, large windows. A sign on the door read "EAGLES" with a hand-painted eagle logo.

They climbed the porch steps. The door was open. Inside, Ash could see bunk beds—three sets of them, six beds total. A counselor in his early twenties was helping a shorter boy unpack.

"Hey!" The counselor looked up, smiled. "You must be one of my Eagles. I'm Brett Kowalski, your cabin counselor. Which one are you?"

"Noam Walsh."

"Noam! Perfect. You're on the top bunk over there—" He pointed to the bunk on the right side. "That's Garrett Reeves below you. He's outside right now with his parents. And that's Kevin—" he indicated the boy he'd been helping, "—on the bottom bunk there. His brother Max is on top."

Kevin waved shyly. He was small, with glasses and curly hair, maybe on the younger end of eleven.

"How many of us are there?" Ash asked.

"Six total. You, Garrett, Kevin, Max, and we're waiting on Oliver and Lucas. Should be here any minute." Brett's energy was infectious—clearly someone who loved his job. "Let's get you unpacked. Mr. Walsh, you're welcome to help, but orientation starts in thirty minutes, so we need to move fast."

Ash climbed up to his assigned top bunk. The mattress was thin but clean, with a plastic cover. He spread out his sleeping bag, arranged his pillow, tried to make it feel less foreign.

Dad helped him unpack his duffel bag, putting clothes in the small cubby under the bed, toiletries on the shelf near the door that Brett indicated was his.

"You're tall for eleven," Brett observed, watching Ash easily reach the top bunk. "You play basketball?"

"Baseball, mostly. And I swim."

"Perfect. We have both. I'm the assistant baseball coach, actually. Played in college." Brett grinned. "You're going to love the baseball clinic. We have a former minor leaguer coming in to work with you guys."

Other families were arriving. Garrett and his parents—Garrett was Asian, stocky, with a confident energy. Max and Kevin's parents were saying goodbye. Two more boys arrived almost simultaneously—Oliver, tall and lanky with braces, and Lucas, athletic-looking with dark skin and an easy smile.

Within fifteen minutes, Cabin 7 was full. Six eleven-year-old boys, one college-aged counselor, and various parents trying to delay their goodbyes.

"Alright, Eagles," Brett said, checking his watch. "Orientation is in the main lodge in twenty minutes. Parents, you're welcome to walk over with us, but after orientation, we ask that you say your goodbyes so the boys can start bonding as a cabin."

The parents exchanged glances—the universal acknowledgment that it was time to let go.

Dad pulled Ash aside on the porch. "You good?"

"I think so."

"Your cabin mates seem nice. Brett seems great. The facilities are even better than I remembered." Dad put his hands on Ash's shoulders. "You're going to have an amazing time. But if you don't—if you're struggling—you can call during phone times. Your mom and I are only two hours away."

"Okay."

"And remember, this is only two weeks. Fourteen days. You can do anything for fourteen days."

"Yeah."

Dad pulled him into a hug. "I'm proud of you. For being brave enough to try this. For trusting me when I said it would be good for you."

"Thanks, Dad."

When they pulled apart, Dad's eyes were suspiciously bright. "Alright. Go meet your cabin mates. I'll see you in two weeks. Love you, buddy."

"Love you too."

Ash watched Dad walk back to the parking lot, getting smaller with distance. Felt the weight of being alone—truly alone—for the first time in his life.

No parents. No siblings. No family. Just him and five boys he'd met ten minutes ago.

"Hey, Noam!" Garrett called from inside the cabin. "You any good at basketball? Lucas and I are playing two-on-two later if you want in."

Ash turned away from watching Dad's retreating form. Took a breath. Stepped back into the cabin.

"Yeah, I'm decent. I'm better at baseball, though."

"Lucas plays baseball too," Garrett said. "Travel team. He's really good."

Lucas shrugged modestly. "I'm alright. You play travel?"

"Recreation league. Made all-stars last year, though."

"Nice." Lucas's respect was genuine. "We should hit the batting cages later. Brett said they have a machine that goes up to 60 mph."

"That's faster than I've ever hit."

"Good practice for middle school tryouts," Oliver chimed in. He was unpacking methodically, everything organized. "My brother said middle school baseball is way more competitive than little league."

"Is this everyone's first year at Pine Ridge?" Kevin asked quietly.

Everyone nodded.

"Okay, good," Kevin said, relaxing slightly. "I thought I was going to be the only new kid."

"We're all new," Brett said, coming back inside. "Which is perfect. You're going to bond as a cabin, become a team. By the end of two weeks, you guys will be brothers. I've seen it happen every summer."

Brothers. The word landed strangely in Ash's chest. He had actual brothers—Declan. And sisters—Claire, Cathy, Eden. But cabin brothers. Temporary brothers. Boys who'd share this experience with him.

"Alright, Eagles," Brett announced. "Time for orientation. Grab your welcome packets and let's head to the main lodge. Stick together—we're a team now."

They filed out of the cabin, six boys in height order without planning it—Lucas tallest, then Ash and Oliver, then Garrett, then Max, Kevin bringing up the rear. Brett led them down a path toward the main lodge.

All around them, other cabins were doing the same thing. Boys in groups, counselors leading them, the organized movement of over a hundred kids converging on one location.

The main lodge was huge—high ceilings with exposed beams, a massive stone fireplace at one end, rows of benches facing a small stage. Camp banners hung from the rafters, photos of previous summers covering the walls.

The Eagles found seats together. Ash ended up between Garrett and Lucas, the three of them unconsciously sizing each other up the way athletic boys do.

"Welcome to Pine Ridge Sports Academy!"

The voice boomed from the stage. A man in his fifties, fit and tanned, with the bearing of someone who'd spent his entire life outdoors. He wore a Pine Ridge staff shirt and had a whistle around his neck.

"I'm Coach Peterson, director of Pine Ridge. For those of you who are new—which is most of you—welcome. For those returning, welcome back. You're about to have the best two weeks of your summer."

He went through the basics. Daily schedule. Meal times. Rules. Safety protocols. The buddy system. Cabin responsibilities.

"You are not here alone," Coach Peterson said, his voice carrying through the lodge. "You are here as part of a team. Your cabin is your team. You will compete together, support each other, and grow together. By the time you leave, the boys sitting next to you will be your brothers."

There was that word again. Brothers.

Ash glanced at the boys on either side of him. Garrett, who was bouncing his leg with barely contained energy. Lucas, who sat with the easy confidence of a natural athlete.

Could they become brothers? In two weeks?

"The Pine Ridge experience is about more than sports," Coach Peterson continued. "It's about building character. Learning teamwork. Discovering what you're capable of when you push yourself beyond your comfort zone. Some of you will get homesick. Some of you will struggle with activities that are new to you. Some of you will want to quit. And that's okay. That's part of the experience. Because on the other side of that discomfort is growth."

Ash felt the words settle over him like a challenge.

Push beyond comfort zones. Discover capabilities. Growth through discomfort.

He could do this. He'd done harder things. He'd survived being regressed to a toddler. He'd survived losing his entire adult life. He'd survived nine years of childhood while maintaining adult consciousness.

He could survive two weeks at sports camp.

"Now," Coach Peterson said, his tone shifting to enthusiastic, "let's talk about what you're actually here for—sports! We have baseball clinics starting tomorrow. Swimming and diving lessons. Basketball tournaments. Soccer matches. Archery competitions. Rock climbing. Canoeing. Wilderness survival skills. And at the end of your session, we'll have the Pine Ridge Championships—a two-day tournament where cabins compete for the title of overall camp champions."

The energy in the lodge shifted. This was what they were here for. Competition. Sports. Winning.

"Your counselors are all collegiate athletes. They're here to teach you, challenge you, and help you improve. Take advantage of their expertise. Ask questions. Try new things. And most importantly—have fun."

Coach Peterson finished with logistics. Dinner schedule. Evening activities. Lights out time. The camp store. Phone call procedures.

"Parents," he addressed the adults standing along the back wall, "thank you for trusting us with your sons. We take that responsibility seriously. You're welcome to stay for lunch, but we ask that you leave by 1 PM so the boys can begin their camp experience without prolonged goodbyes. We know it's hard. But trust us—they're in good hands."

Lunch was in the dining hall—a massive room with long tables arranged by cabin. The Eagles sat together at their designated table, Brett at the head.

The food was standard camp fare—burgers, hot dogs, salads, fruit. Ash wasn't particularly hungry, but he ate anyway, listening to his cabin mates talk.

Garrett was from a suburb two hours away. Lucas lived in the city. Oliver came from a small town and was nervous about everything. Kevin and Max were brothers, both quiet but clearly close.

They were all athletes. All here for the same reason. All eleven or twelve years old, caught in that awkward space between childhood and adolescence.

All here to prove something—to their parents, to themselves, maybe to each other.

After lunch, parents started leaving. Ash watched through the dining hall windows as families said goodbye. Some kids crying. Others putting on brave faces.

Dad had already left, right after orientation. Had trusted Ash to handle lunch and the afternoon without him.

"First afternoon activity is a camp tour," Brett announced to the table. "Then free time at the pool. Tonight is the opening campfire. Tomorrow, we start the real schedule."

The tour took an hour. They walked the entire camp—saw the baseball diamonds up close, the batting cages, the swimming pool (Olympic-sized, impressively maintained), the lake with its canoes and kayaks, the archery range, the rock climbing wall, the ropes course.

Everything was bigger and better than Ash had imagined. Professional-grade facilities. Equipment that looked brand-new. Counselors everywhere, organizing activities, setting up for tomorrow.

"This place is awesome," Garrett said, echoing what everyone was thinking.

"Wait until you see the talent show stage," Brett said. "It's in the outdoor amphitheater. And the campfire pit is huge—fits the whole camp."

After the tour, they had two hours of free time. Most of the camp headed to the pool. Ash changed into his swim trunks, grabbed his towel, followed his cabin mates to the pool area.

The water was cold and perfect. He dove in, let the shock of it clear his head. When he surfaced, Lucas was there.

"You're a good swimmer," Lucas observed.

"Swim team for a few years. You?"

"Same. Want to race?"

They raced—two laps, freestyle. Ash won by half a body length, but Lucas was close behind.

"You're fast," Lucas said, breathing hard. "We should both try out for the swim team here. They have competitions against other camps."

"There are other camps?"

"Yeah, like four of them in the area. They compete every summer. Winner gets a trophy." Lucas grinned. "We should win it."

For the first time since arrival, Ash felt something other than nervousness. Competition. Challenge. Something he understood.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We should."

The afternoon passed in a blur of swimming and basketball and getting to know his cabin mates. By dinner time, Ash was exhausted in the good way—physically tired, mentally starting to relax, socially stretched but managing.

Dinner was pasta and salad and brownies. The dining hall was loud with the voices of over a hundred boys, all talking and laughing and starting to bond.

After dinner, they gathered at the campfire pit. It was exactly as Brett had described—huge, with log benches arranged in concentric circles around a massive fire pit. The sun was setting, the sky turning pink and orange.

Coach Peterson stood by the fire, which wasn't lit yet.

"Welcome to your first night at Pine Ridge," he said, his voice carrying without needing amplification. "Tonight, we light the Pine Ridge fire. This fire will burn every night of your session. It represents our community, our brotherhood, our shared experience. Every cabin will contribute to this fire—and in doing so, commit to being part of something bigger than yourselves."

One by one, cabins were called up. A representative from each cabin added a log to the fire pit, making a pledge.

When the Eagles were called, Brett looked at his boys. "Who wants to do it?"

No one immediately volunteered.

"Alright, we'll go by last name. Walsh—you're last alphabetically. You represent the Eagles."

The others nodded agreement. Ash found himself standing, walking to the fire pit with Brett, picking up the log designated for their cabin.

"What's your cabin's pledge?" Coach Peterson asked.

Ash looked back at the Eagles—Garrett giving him a thumbs up, Lucas nodding encouragement, the others watching.

"We pledge to support each other," Ash heard himself say. "To compete hard but fair. To try new things even when they're scary. And to be brothers."

"Well said. Add your log."

Ash placed the log on the pile. Watched as a counselor lit the fire, flames catching and spreading, the whole pit erupting into warmth and light.

By the time all cabins had contributed, the fire was massive. Roaring. Everyone could feel its heat from the benches.

They sang camp songs—the counselors leading, the boys following. Some were silly, some were traditional. Ash didn't know the words but picked them up quickly, his voice joining the chorus.

As the fire burned and the songs continued, Ash felt something shift. The terror of the morning had eased. The strangeness of being here had started to feel less strange.

He was at camp. With cabin mates who seemed decent. A counselor who was supportive. Facilities that were amazing. Activities he'd love.

Two weeks suddenly felt less like a sentence and more like an adventure.

When the campfire ended, they walked back to their cabin in the dark, flashlights lighting the path. The Eagles were tired, ready for bed, but also buzzed with the energy of everything they'd experienced.

In the cabin, they took turns in the bathroom, changed into pajamas, claimed their beds. Brett gave them fifteen minutes of free time before lights out—boys talking quietly, settling in, the nighttime sounds of summer camp all around them.

"Tomorrow starts early," Brett said, checking his watch. "Seven AM wake-up, breakfast at seven-thirty, then baseball clinic. Get good sleep—you'll need it."

Lights out came at ten. The cabin went dark, just a small nightlight near the bathroom door.

Ash lay in his top bunk, staring at the ceiling he could barely see. Below him, Garrett was already breathing deeply, asleep. Around the cabin, quiet rustling as boys settled.

He thought about home. About Mom and Dad and Sophie. About his room, his bed, his normal routine.

Felt the pull of homesickness start to tug at his chest.

Then thought about the letter in his toiletry bag. "Open if you're feeling homesick."

Not yet. He'd been here less than twelve hours. He could handle this.

"You okay up there?" Lucas's voice came softly from across the cabin.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. Just weird, being away from home."

"Yeah."

"But it's going to be good," Lucas said, more confident now. "Tomorrow we start baseball. That'll be fun."

"Yeah. It will."

Silence settled over the cabin. Outside, Ash could hear other cabins settling down too. The sounds of summer camp at night—crickets, distant voices, the lake lapping at its shore.

"My name is Ash," he whispered, so quietly no one could possibly hear. "I'm thirty-three years old. I'm eleven years old. Today my dad dropped me off at sports camp. Today I met five boys who might become my cabin brothers. Today I pledged to try new things even when they're scary. Today I started something new."

He paused.

"I'm scared. I miss home. But I'm doing this anyway."

Four thousand, seven hundred and five days to go.

But right now: two weeks at Pine Ridge. Two weeks to be just another boy at camp. Two weeks to prove to himself he could handle independence.

Two weeks of becoming someone braver than he was this morning.

He fell asleep to the sound of Garrett's breathing below him, Lucas's soft snoring across the cabin, the unfamiliar comfort of not being alone but also not being watched by family.

Day one complete.

Thirteen more to go.

Growing up, one night away from home at a time.