I stood in the doorway, shivering violently and wringing out my wet hair. As I moved farther into the large garage-like space that would soon fill up with children, my stomach started to twist. I stopped moving and took a deep breath, listening to the rain pelt the tin roof. It was oddly soothing, and I could feel my muscles relax as I got in the long line of other campers my age. But when I saw who we were meeting at the head of the line, my breathing quickened and my heart dropped into the pit in my stomach. Delilah Boss was well-known by everyone at my sleepaway camp. And likewise, she knew everyone. This was to be expected, considering that she was one of the camp’s directors. I had only run into her a few times, but they varied from Delilah being scary to Delilah being terrifying. I mean, everyone loves Delilah, but we’re all also scared of her. Just the mention of her sends shivers down my spine and makes my hairs stand up on end. I reached the front of the line and Delilah scanned the clipboard in front of her. “Shaving balloon station!” she barked out. I stood there, my brows furrowed as I looked up at Delilah, confusion written on my face. “You put the shaving cream on the balloon and give it to kids, and they shave it off with a popsicle stick,” she sighed. “Now go set up your station- the kids are almost here!” I nodded and scurried off, trying not to tremble too much. I knew she didn’t mean to be harsh; she just had a strong personality. Even knowing that she was trained to work with children and would never hurt us didn’t reassure me that she wouldn’t completely destroy my life at camp if I messed up during this festival. The sounds of a hundred little feet running and a hundred little voices whooping and hollering alerted me to the fact that the kids had arrived. As the room filled as they went to stations and played, I stood and waited, my eyes glazing over. It was a solid 15 minutes before I was shaken out of my stupor by a little kid asking for a bit of shaving cream. I handed him a blue balloon with shaving cream and a popsicle stick and watched as he sat down, bent his golden head, and focused intently on shaving his balloon. A few more kids came up to my booth, most of them dull-eyed and holding back yawns. I started to stare off into space when, in my peripheral vision, I saw a little blur dressed in pink running towards me. “IZZY!” the blur shrieked, and I recognized the blur as my Illanot buddy, Vera. As a Harimer, the oldest age group, I got assigned to an Illanoter, the youngest age group, to help them adjust to the sleepaway camp environment and to give them a friend. My Illanot buddy was a bright bundle of joy named Vera, who I could usually spot from a mile away due to the pink and glitter she wore constantly. Vera launched herself at me, and I stumbled backwards at the unexpected weight that had landed in my arms. I hugged Vera close and smiled. “Whatcha doing?” Vera asked. “I’m supervising this station,” I responded. “Here, you can shave balloons with popsicle sticks.” Vera’s nose wrinkled. “That sounds boring!” she proclaimed loudly. I leaned forward like I had a big secret and whispered to her, “I know.” Vera tilted her head back and let out a high-pitched giggle. I set her down, still holding her hand, and laughed with her. Vera looked at me mischievously, let go of my hand, and bent downward to pick up some fallen shaving cream. She stood up and threw the glob of shaving cream at me, hitting me right in the stomach. I gasped, squirted some shaving cream into my hand, and flung it at her. With a shriek from Vera, the Great Shaving Cream War of 2017 began. Kids from all over rushed towards my station and started to fling shaving cream left and right. Some had specific people they wanted to hit, but most of it was directed at me. I was willing to take the brunt of the attack because I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. I was completely covered in shaving cream. It was in my hair, behind my ears, coating my shoes, and hiding beneath fingernails. I hadn’t laughed as hard as I did then in forever. Everyone was running around, shouting and hollering, when suddenly they all stopped. I heard footsteps approaching me, and I twirled around only to come face-to-face with Delilah. My smile slipped from my face and I scanned the scene with new eyes. The floor was covered with shaving cream and there were so many popped balloons. Oh God, someone could have slipped and fallen. I heard some sniffling and saw a little boy being comforted by a counselor. Oh no, had my fun game caused that? I looked back at Delilah, making the mistake of looking in her eyes, and saw the enraged flame that roared behind her brown irises. “Isabel, come with me! Now!” she barked. I scurried after her and was led to a side porch where it was just the two of us. I looked around, trying to find the exits, only to realize the one door was blocked by Delilah. I gulped, about to open my mouth to apologize for everything, when Delilah blew up at me. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt. Hell, someone did get hurt! How could you have been so stupid? That was so stupid of you!” “I know, I’m so sorry, I-” “And that was completely irresponsible. You had one simple job! I want you to stay here and think about what you did and then, when the festival is done, you’re going to clean up the mess you made.” And with that, she left. I sat down on a wicker chair, shaking. The rain no longer sounded comforting; instead it became the raging storm that I should’ve been scared of. My eyes stung as tears threatened to pour out. I wrapped my arms around my body as I shook from the cold and the fear. “Hey,” a soft voice said from the doorway. I turned to look at who it was and saw my friend Millie. “Are you okay?” she asked gently. I could feel a tear trail down my face, clearing away a path through the shaving cream that caked it. I shook my head, biting my lip as Millie hugged me, holding me close despite what the shaving cream would do to her clothes. Millie was one of my best friends at camp. She was more than just my friend — she was my camp wife. We had had the ceremony in the sewing room where we had created a wedding veil, a bowtie, and two cloth rings. She was there for me, always, just like I was there for her, and there was no one I needed more than her at that moment. “Hey, come with me,” she said, tugging me up from my chair and brushing away the tears on my cheeks, smearing the shaving cream. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” And with that she pulled me outside into the heavy rainfall, wiping away the shaving cream and tears, washing away the conversation I had with Delilah as Millie led me in a slow dance in the rain. As we rocked back and forth, I started to smile. The clouds would clear and everything would be new again, but for now I would savor the taste of salty tears and the love of my friend.