My mother parked the car on the side of the building that over looked the whole camp. As she turned off the car, the only thing you could hear was my heart beating; it was my first day. When I got out of the car, the only think that I could hear was the sound of kids screaming and playing a variety of games from four square to basketball.
             I kissed my mother goodbye, then sat down on the mile long curb that all of the other kids put their camp bags on for safe keeping. I sat by myself for half of the morning; at this point, camp was hell for me. I thought that I would be on that curb alone all day until one of the counselors let off a blow horn which signaled the campers to get their bags and sit on their assigned age lines.
             After the bags were picked up, I was left sitting alongside of one particular bag that had the name Jason written on it in bold, black marker. I turned my head away from the bag, thinking nothing of it, when I saw a kid standing in my line crying hysterically. The boy seemed very upset, for some reason, but no one seemed to care. It was as if the louder he cried, the fewer people could hear him.
             I went over to him to see if I could be of any assistance. When I was face to face with the kid I asked, "What's wrong?"
             "I can't find my bag," the boy muttered, trying to hold his tears back.
             "Is your name Jason?" I questioned, quickly thinking about the bag that I had been sitting next to.
             "Yeah...how do you know my name?" The boy wondered, as he looked at me very confused.
             " I know where your bag is," I said in hopes that he would stop crying.
             "Really?" Questioned Jason
             When I showed him where his bag was, he let out a sigh of relief. I could tell that he pleased to have gotten his bag back from the big smile on his face. From that day on, Jason and I did everything, in camp, together. If one of us went somewhere, the othe...