Camp Nurse by Tilda Shalof

shots. He said you’d give them to me.”
    “We don’t stock that in the infirmary.” I dreaded making another request of Wheels. “You’ll have to get it yourself.”
    “What about two B 6 ? Do you have those?”
    “It doesn’t work like that …”
    I was often stumped by the kids’ problems. You have to know a patient’s medical history and personality in order to determine the best approach and method, and I had very little to go on. I was operating on a strictly need-to-know basis.
    As for my own kids, I hadn’t seen them in days. One morning, I headed down to the cabins in search of Max. His cabin was quiet and I assumed the campers were out at their activities, but I knocked first. (I didn’t want a repeat of the scene when I’d walked into what I thought was an empty cabin and found two counsellors in bed, making out.) No one answered, so I opened the door and stepped into the darkened room. A burly, hairy guy was lying in Max’s bed, naked under a sheet that fortunately covered up his private parts. He squinted at me and shielded his eyes against the light from the open door. “Who are
you
?” I asked.
    “Who are
you
?” he grunted. “You woke me up.”
    “I’m the nurse. Why are you sleeping in my son’s bed? Where is Max?”
    “Who’s Max?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned over, and settled in for more shut-eye. I slammed the door behind me and set off in search of Mike. It was a shame they’d never gotten around to giving me a walkie-talkie because I was ready to scream at the whole camp. Imagine, this scary thug, sleeping in a child’s bed!
    I found Mike in the staff lounge, lying back on the couch, listening to music with his girlfriend, Shona, who was draped over him, her head resting in his lap. He chuckled when I told him about the intruder. “Oh, that’s Spleen. He’s a legend around here.” He shook his head in recollection of past heroic Spleen antics. “Spleen – what a guy! Hey, don’t look so worried. He’s harmless. He’s buddies with Quade, Max’s counsellor. Spleen’s out on parole – I mean, on
vacation
. He’s staying with us for a few days before he moves on.”
    “
Out on parole?
”
    Shona giggled and turned away to hide her amusement.
    “He was convicted of a B and E but I swear, he didn’t do it! Spleen is awesome with kids. We’re lucky to have him at camp.”
    I guess I didn’t look reassured.
    “He’s not a serial killer or a child molester, I promise you that.”
    I wiped my brow in an exaggerated gesture of relief.
    Eventually, at the waterfront I found my kids. Harry was swimming with his friends, watched over by a dopey-looking lifeguard. Max was happily playing with his gang on the beach, building sandcastles and smashing them down. I returned to the infirmary. There I found a raging, pacing Carly. She had buzzed off her ’fro and her almost-bald head was covered in a bandana do-rag.
    “There are more cases of lice infestation!” she snapped at me.
    “There’s an epidemic going on around here and you’re doing nothing about it.”
    “I examined your campers’ heads. I didn’t find a single lice – I mean louse.”
    “I showed you those white thingies in Sasha’s hair.”
    “That’s dandruff. Nits stick to the shaft of the hair follicle. You can’t flick them off. I’m not going to treat a kid who doesn’t have lice.”
    “Well, Wheels has already gone to town to buy me lice shampoo!”
    “So, you are going to put chemicals on your scalp that you don’t need?”
    “My head is so itchy. I’ve been up all night. This is so freaking me out.”
    Everyone runs around barefoot, sunscreen bottles haven’t been opened, your own boyfriend won’t take care of the dripping, festering wound on his knee, and you’re worried about harmless head lice?
    “This is a serious hygiene problem,” she said.
    “Lice are a nuisance, not a disease. Besides, no one here has lice,” I told her.
    I wanted to lock the door and