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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Somewhere along the way all the busses had met up.<br/>
<br/>
Initially, there was just two at the airport--waiting for all the kids who had to catch a plane to Washington because their colleges were outside of the state. Once they'd been accepted, every Camper was mailed a letter outlining certain things like what they didn't need to bring; standard 'no-go' items like drugs (excluding prescription medicine), alcohol, weapons, satellite phones, au pairs, pagers, and so on. Counselors wanted Campers to be as immersed in their surrounding and focused on their studies as possible, without any external influences or distractors. Everything else was alright, however, from changes of clothes (the camp would provide everyone with customary t-shirts and shorts, as well as anything one might've forgotten), to their own dishware and even personal soaps and shampoos. While Camp Gifford didn't want Campers to forget why they were there, as a luxury campsite they weren't about to forfeit comfort, and <i>especially </i>not after so many parents forked up the extra cash for their child to get the 'luxury package'.<br/>
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Those acceptance letters also included a plane ticket, and the day said ticket was supposed to be used. There was even a time given, specifying exactly when the plane should've been boarded. Everything was very micro-managed, down to the last detail. So, when the 'out-of-towners' arrived, they were directed to two long, grey and white busses with 'Camp Gifford' written across the side in large letters. Those two buses left exactly an hour and a half after arriving, heading onto the highway and then, after another hour and a half of driving, pulling onto an exit. The road became narrower, and others cars going by were sparse. At one point, two more busses appeared on the road behind the original ones, all four of them twisting and turning down the winding, tree filled road, sunlight peeking through the trees and clouds. <br/>
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Eventually, after what felt like hours, the busses were passing a tall, wooden archway with the Camp Gifford logo across it, and then coming to a slow halt in a spacious dirt driveway. which led up to a clearing, revealing the campsite itself. There were six large cabins facing the wide open space which was most likely the center of the campsite, each one with their own carved wooden sign in front;<br/>
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<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(46, 139, 87)">Douglas House | Hemlock House | Sitka House</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(46, 139, 87)">Ponderosa House | Lodgepole House | Alder House</span></i><br/>
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Further away, there was an even larger cabin, and a short distance away from that, one the same size as the six that were huddled together, which was probably the counselors office and board. In the open, grassy area in front of all the cabins, there was a collection of picnic tables and benches, two badminton nets, a small booth,  and a large map tacked to a wooden signboard. Standing at the table closest to the busses, there were six people, all wearing t-shirts with 'Camp Gifford' printed on the front.</span><br/>
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-<br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Miles had packed his things and left the house an hour before his flight, having left only a note for his mother to see when she woke up to feed the baby. He wasn't one for goodbyes, and part of him still resented her for agreeing with Carter, his step-father, about sending him to this stupid camp. What sane person would volunteer to waste a month and a half of their life stuck with strangers in a foreign place? Sure, the scenery was incredible and Miles would do anything to escape the stuffy, clogged atmosphere of California, but did <i>this </i>really have to be his golden opportunity? Did he look 12? Did he look like some bookworm who breathed air into their lungs with the sole purpose of forwarding their education? If Miles hadn't been threatened into going, he wouldn't have even glanced at the pamphlet that arrived in the mail for him. But, he had no choice, so he was going to make sure everyone else knew that, and left him the fuck alone.<br/>
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He was one of the first kids on his bus when the plane landed, and he took a seat in the very back, put a cassette in his handheld player, slipped his headphones on, and zoned out. The early morning chill of the Northwest, even in the summer, was not something he was used to, and he pulled his hood up over his headphones, fighting off a shiver. Hopefully he would look disinterested enough in everyone and everything that he'd be left alone. This was going to be a long six weeks, and a sliver of him wondered if his mother would miss his presence. Or if she'd just enjoy the silence since he wouldn't be there to pick fights with his step-father. Miles couldn't understand why she acted like he was some knight in shining armor. Well, perhaps to her he was; having plucked her--and by extension Miles--out of poverty the way he did, most people would see him through rose colored lenses. But not Miles. He'd survive these six weeks, return home, and promptly move out before the end of the year...with enough cash to assure he was still living comfortably.<br/>
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Further up, sitting at a window seat and casually perusing the Camp Gifford brochure that was sent with every letter, was Nicholas. He'd also arrived early, but chose a seat closer to the front so he could get a glimpse of at least some of the humans he'd be spending the next month and a half with. He was excited for the experience; his father and grandfather had gone after all, and he wanted to follow in their footsteps and be a part of the inner circle that was Camp Gifford 'graduates'. After all, it wasn't easy to get accepted, and even less so to be able to <i>afford </i>the trip. Nicholas' father seemed adamant about him attending, though, so he was certain money was no object, it never was with the Mstislav men. The only one who hadn't gone to the camp was Nicholas' uncle, but he'd never met the man and he was taboo to bring up at home, so Nicholas never found out why.<br/>
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His mother had asked him to come home (as he lived in the dorms) and prepared a huge dinner the previous night, and he slept like a baby for the most part, his nervous jitters only kicking in once he was on the plane heading across the country. Nicholas had packed his favorite weather appropriate clothes, books, vinyl's, shampoo and snacks. He also, of course, brought all the coursework he'd need during his time away. A law degree wouldn't just complete itself after all. His father assured him that he'd create 'all the connections he needed' during these weeks away, but even then Nicholas wanted to be prepared, just because his father was a powerful man didn't mean he could sit back on autopilot and wait for opportunity to fall into his lap. No, Nicholas admired his father for being a go-getter, and was the same exact way. Victory was all the more sweet when you earned it, had worked for it and slaved away for it. It was even sweeter when others recognized that fact.<br/>
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"Huh..." He muttered aloud, eyebrows raising when his eyes scanned over a particular part of the brochure. "Co-ed board, huh...can't believe my old man missed this yesterday." that had to have been a new addition to the 'Camp Gifford Experience', because there was <i>no way</i> they were letting girls and guys bunk in the same cabins back in the 50s, there would've been riots. Nicholas was thankful his father hadn't seen it though, because he would've no doubt called the counselors up right then and there to inquire further about it. <br/>
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Leaning more against the window, Nicholas smiled to himself; it was going to be a bit harder to stay focused than he originally though. But that was fine, he enjoyed a challenge.</span>​</div>