Disclaimer: I don't own anything Twilight (except my copies of the books and the movie soundtrack) and am not making any profit from anything Twilight-related.

A/N: Ok, first Twilight Fanfic. First and foremost, thanks to 4theluvofMary for being my wonderful beta. Go read her fics, she's pure genious. She writes a wonderful Edward. And she likes Brand New. Break lines indicate the passage of time between two parts of the chapter. Please Read and Review. I really need feedback for this, you don't even know!

CHAPTER ONE: GETTING THE JOB

BPOV

"Camp Cullen is a summer camp for underprivileged kids, offering them the chance to experience the thrill of the great outdoors. In business for the past 20 years, this family-owned camp is looking for camp counsellors for the summer season. Applicants must be aged between 19 and 25 and have their first aid certifications. Please send your resume, a presentation letter and a motivation letter to..."

I stopped reading and fished in my desk for a pen and paper to write down the address where I was to send my resume. I was graduating from high school in less than three weeks so I had really started my search for a summer job at the last minute. I was surprised this camp hadn't found all their staff already. I wasn't much of the outdoorsy type but I had my first aid qualification – thanks to my dad enrolling me in first aid classes every two years since I'd been fifteen – and it said further down the ad that they were looking for counsellors who could manage the arts and crafts activities. I'd be an Art major at the University of Washington next fall and I had babysat a lot growing up so I felt pretty confident I could meet their hiring criteria.

"Hey Bella!" my dad called in from the doorway the moment he stepped inside the door.

"Hey Dad!" I answered, looking up from the paper when his head peered through my open bedroom door. "How was work?" I asked, watching him as he started undoing his uniform shirt, revealing a white cotton undershirt.

"Oh you know the usual. We got a call from the Thriftway about kids loitering and Mrs. Jennings called again saying someone was snooping around her backyard." They got a call from Mrs Jennings about twice a week. "What about you? Did you get a lot of studying done?"

"Some... Hey dad, do you know a town called Forks?" I asked, thinking about the ad for Camp Cullen.

"I think its back west... " my dad answered distractedly. "Why?"

"Well I saw this ad for a summer camp that's still looking for counsellors and they're looking for someone for their arts and crafts, so I thought I'd apply..." I knew the thought of me being away from his watchful eye for the entire summer was not a particularly appealing one to my father. "I mean the pay's decent and I'd be getting room and board..." I trailed off.

"I don't know Bella..." he really seemed apprehensive.

"I mean, you'll have to get used to me not being around the house all the time, Dad. When I move out – which I hate to tell you will be sooner rather than later – I won't be back here every day, you know? That would kind of defy the purpose of me living on my own, don't you think?" I tried to lighten the mood.

The discussion pretty much ended there because at that moment the station called – Mrs. Jennings had reported another trespasser on her property – and dad had to leave. Meanwhile, I went to my room and turned on my dinosaur of a computer, wanting to update my resume so I could apply for a job at Camp Cullen as quickly as possible. I knew that if I did and my dad didn't really have a say in the matter he'd begrudgingly accept my decision. My dad hated having to do any sort of discipline and he was really lucky because I wasn't the type of kid that got in trouble. Our relationship was more like a friendship and it worked. I guess the fact that I'd had to be the parent when I lived with my mom helped make me responsible. Not that my mom was irresponsible, just a little flaky.

Two days later I came back from school in the middle of the afternoon after finishing my English exam early. I unlocked the door and threw the rest of my belongings that I'd finished retrieving from my locker at school and glanced at the machine to see if we had any messages; the indicator light was flashing so I pressed the button to hear them while I rummaged through the fridge to find a snack.

"Hi Bella, its mom!" I heard my mother's cheery voice and smiled to myself, "I just called to let you know Phil and I should get to town on the afternoon before your graduation. We've made our reservations at the hotel in Port Angeles and we'll meet you and Charlie at the school for the ceremony. I can't wait to see you honey, I'm just so proud of you! I love you!"

I erased the message and waited for the next one to play.

"Hey kiddo! I'll be working late tonight so don't wait for me before eating dinner. The guys at the station and I will probably order something – and before you start rolling your eyes at me – I'll be good and won't order anything that'll make my cholesterol shoot through the roof, I promise!"

My dad knew me too well. Ever since his friend Harry had passed away last year from a heart attack, I'd been on my father's case about his health and since I did most of the cooking at the house, I really tried to make sure his diet was as healthy as possible while making sure the food I served him was edible.

"So I'll see you later. And by the way, have you heard from Renée about your graduation? Do you know when she and Phil will get to town? Maybe you should call her and make sure she hasn't forgotten to make the necessary arrangements, you know how she can be... Well, see you later Bells!"

I erased his message as well and was surprised when the machine announced there was a third one; we never got this many messages in one week, let alone a single day!

"Hello this message is for Miss..." I heard papers being shuffled around, "Isabella Swan. My name is Esme and I'm calling regarding your application for a camp counsellor job at Camp Cullen," I hurried to the phone and grabbed the pen and pad of paper beside it in case I had to write something down. "We'd really like to have you in for a short interview if you don't mind. I can tell you it's just a formality as it's something like ninety-nine percent sure we're going to hire you." the woman chuckled lightly. "So if you could meet us in Port Angeles on June 6 at ten o'clock at the..."

I wrote down all the information Esme left on the machine then did my little happy dance – ok it's more like convulsions than an actual dance – and ran upstairs to choose what I'd wear for my "interview". I couldn't believe they'd decided to hire me based solely on my resume. I just hoped they didn't change their minds after meeting me.

I stayed up later than I usually would because I was so excited I wanted to tell my dad the good news as soon as possible, so I waited patiently – yeah, right! – for him to come home from work. As I had anticipated, he was somewhat upset that I'd be away most of the summer but he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't keep me from working where I wanted to. He said that as my graduation present, he'd take me to Seattle so we could shop for some outdoors gear. He got enthusiastic – well as enthusiastic as my dad could get – talking about buying hiking boots and backpacks and thermal clothes and I admit I lost track of all the things he seemed to think I'd need. Eventually I had to interrupt him saying I was going to sleep; it was well past midnight and I had to have an early start next day.

I was really nervous as I stood in line behind my schoolmates, waiting to make my way to the stage to receive my diploma. I'd always been kind of coordinatedly challenged and I could already picture myself stepping on my polyester gown as I climbed the steps to the stage and landing face first in the ornate flower arrangement that was beside the podium.

Fortunately for me, everything went smoothly and even my parents' and Phil's loud cheering didn't make me trip all over myself. When I stood with my classmates and threw my cap in the air, I felt kind of relieved, like I was turning a page in the book of my life. I was happily surprised by this; I'd been expecting to panic over the upcoming changes that would be college and moving out but all of the sudden, I felt a kind of thrill and excitement course through my veins.

Later, after having dinner with my parents and Phil, I headed back home with my dad. I was exhausted but unable to sleep. My meeting with the people from Camp Cullen was only two days away and I was growing more and more anxious. I didn't doubt my ability to land the job – seeing as I had almost been promised I'd get it – but I couldn't wait to meet the people I'd work with for the next two months. I could only imagine how the Cullens must be great people; after all, not everybody would be ready to invest money in a summer camp for underprivileged kids.

Fleetingly, I wondered if I'd even get to meet the Cullens. I mean, it's not because they owned the camp that they worked there too; if they could afford to set up a summer camp, surely they could afford a competent staff without having to work themselves. Somehow, I knew I would be disappointed if the Cullens didn't work at the camp. My dad always said I put everybody around me on a pedestal, that I only saw the good in people; I would much rather think the Cullens were selfless and generous, with both their time and money.

I was sitting at a table of a café in Port Angeles where I was to meet Esme, the woman who had left the message on my machine about the job at Camp Cullen. She told me she'd be wearing a navy camp fleece so I kept looking at the door every few minutes to make sure I didn't miss her. Finally, a woman who looked to be about in her thirties walked in, wearing a navy fleece with the words 'CAMP CULLEN' embroidered in white over her heart. I plastered a smile on my face and waved shyly, flooded with relief when comprehension painted her face and she smiled and waved back. I waited patiently as she got herself a coffee and came to sit with me.

"You must be Bella." she smiled again, shaking my hand before sitting down. Wow her hand is cold! "It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the name."

"Likewise." I smiled, unsure what else to say. "The temperature must have really dropped out there." I finally blurted out, thinking back on how cold her hand had been.

"Excuse me?" Esme asked, obviously confused by my awkward attempt at small talk.

"It's just..." what did I get myself into? I berated myself, wondering if I should just drop it or plough on. "Your hand, it's really cold. It just made me think that it must have gotten really cold outside." I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, realizing this line of conversation just sounded odd and out of place. Only someone as socially awkward as me could be having this much difficulty with small talk.

Esme smiled soothingly.

"Oh no dear, I just have really bad blood circulation," she brushed off softly. "I can never get to warm my hands up it seems." she finished, laughing a clear, bell-like laugh.

I felt so embarrassed I just smiled back and nodded, feeling like a complete idiot. Great, now she probably thinks I'm some kind of weirdo and is going to take back the job offer.

"So, as I said on the answering machine, this meeting is just a formality really. We were really impressed by your application and we fully intend to offer you the job as the arts and crafts counsellor." she smiled warmly, pulling out a manila file from her shoulder bag, as though the whole beginning of our conversation had never taken place.

"May I ask you what about my application impressed you that much?" I asked hesitantly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy you're offering me the job but I'd really like to know what was so great about my application so I know what to do next time I apply for a job." I joked.

"Well, your presentation and motivation letters were really well written and just the feel of them was great." she explained. "We at Camp Cullen rely a lot on our instincts when it comes to choosing our employees and we've always had good results." she seemed amused, as though there was some kind of hidden meaning to her words that I couldn't get.

"Oh well, that's nice. So would you mind talking to me more about my job? If my job is arts and crafts counsellor does that mean I'll only do arts and crafts?" I asked.

"No, not at all!" she chuckled softly. "Let me tell you more about how the camp functions, ok?" I nodded. "We get ten groups of ten kids every thirteen days. The kids are separated in age-groups; the seven and eight year-olds, the nine and ten year-olds, the eleven and twelve year-olds, the thirteen to fifteen year-olds and finally the sixteen and seventeen year-olds. There are two groups of each age group. Each group of ten kids gets three counsellors assigned to them for the duration of their stay.

"One counsellor isn't assigned to a certain age group for the whole summer; there's a constant rotation. Same goes for your co-counsellors; each time you get a new group you get new partners. Unless, of course there is any problem or animosity between counsellors – we're not looking to provoke problems but we do encourage our staff to try and work out their differences; we've found kids easily pick up on any sort of tension and we really want the kids to enjoy their stay at the camp.

"The reason your title is arts and crafts counsellor is that you'll be in charge of submitting ideas for projects for the different age groups and organizing the related activities. You'll have to prepare projects appropriate for all age groups but the younger kids are the ones who will do arts and crafts most often; some of our outdoors activities are a bit too dangerous for seven and eight year-olds. But each group of kids older than that will at least do one arts and crafts project during their stay. Some will do more; we adapt our programs to the kids and to the weather. Nothing is set in stone."

I had been nodding through her entire explanation. I liked how things worked at Camp Cullen; they suited me.

"So you said I'd have to prepare projects and activities..." I started voicing my only concern.

"Yes, the first two weeks of work are just for the staff to prepare for the camp. We'll all be at camp together so it's a good way to get to know the rest of the staff; we help each other prepare the activities and that way everybody knows what's going on. We've learned through the years that if we don't put up a united front, the kids can take over easily. It's not like kids try to cause trouble, but once they find an activity they really like, sometimes they try to make it so they only do that one activity, do you know what I mean?"

I understood perfectly; if you weren't on top of things, a kid could pretend he's supposed to be canoeing instead of rock climbing.

"Other than that... The staff gets a weekend off between our prep-weeks and the first day of camp. We all meet back at Forks High School on the first day of camp and ride the buses with the kids up to camp. Like I said earlier, the camps last thirteen days from Sunday through the Saturday of the following week; the staff gets the rest of Saturday off and then we meet again on Sunday at the school to take the next group of kids back to camp."

After that, Esme had me fill out the necessary forms to complete my employee file and made me sign my work contract. She then handed me a stack of papers with the rules of Camp Cullen, security procedures, and a list of things I would need to bring, along with a map of the camp grounds. She also handed me a list of the outdoors activities available, assuring me I'd get the proper training for each of them. Finally, we shook hands and parted ways.

I was totally looking forward to my summer at Camp Cullen. When I got home I went over the list of the things I'd need with my dad and we started planning our shopping excursion in Seattle. That night, I finished packing the things I wouldn't need while I was away at camp; since the last camp would end at the end of August I wouldn't get a whole lot of time to finish packing my things before I left for college in Seattle.

A/N: So here was the first chapter. I know Esme throws a lot of information at Bella (and therefore at you) in a short amount of time, but I just felt the need to get all the technicalities out of the way so I could move on to other, more interesting things. Please Read and Review, I'll send you psychic cookies. Thanks again to 4the luvofMary for being my beta, here's hoping you're in top shape again in no time, my thoughts are with you!

Toodles!

(formely known as Izzers)