Stanley could see some kids dressed in orange and carrying shovels dragging themselves toward the tents.
“You thirsty?” asked Mr. Sir. “Yes, Mr. Sir,” Stanley said gratefully.
“Well, you better get used to it. You’re going to be thirsty for the next eighteen months.”
There were six large gray tents, and each one had a black letter on it: A, B, C, D, E, or F. The first five tents were for the campers.
The counselors slept in F. Stanley was assigned to D tent. Mr. Pendanski was his counselor.
“My name is easy to remember,” said Mr. Pendanski as he shook hands with Stanley just outside the tent.
“Three easy words: pen, dance, key.” Mr. Sir returned to the office.
Mr. Pendanski was younger than Mr. Sir, and not nearly as scary looking.
The top of his head was shaved so close it was almost bald, but his face was covered in a thick curly black beard.
His nose was badly sunburned. “Mr. Sir isn’t really so bad,” said Mr. Pendanski.
“He’s just been in a bad mood ever since he quit smoking. The person you’ve got to worry about is the Warden.”
“There’s really only one rule at Camp Green Lake: Don’t upset the Warden.”
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