The Spirit of Kilapea

By D. H. Starr

Can one summer change the lives of two young men?

All-American boy Nick Pinchert, popular, athletic, envied by the jocks and desired by the girls—or that's what he wants everyone to think. Deep down, he harbors a secret he fears will rip his world apart. His summers of leadership at sleep-away camp are sacred, a time to let go of trying to meet others' expectations and just be himself...mostly.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Kip Davenport has everything except parents who care about him. He's grown up shipped from boarding school to boarding school, and Camp Kilapea is one more holding station where he needs to claw his way to the top by tearing others down. Placed in a leadership position he hasn't earned, Kip plans to deal with the extra resentment the same way he always has.

When the two meet, the attraction is immediate, terrifying Nick and providing Kip with the perfect target for his manipulations. But Camp Kilapea's teachings challenge even the most obstinate. The three pillars of body, mind, and spirit force campers and leaders alike to examine their choices and to become better people.

But is the spirit of Kilapea strong enough to force Nick and Kip to lower their guards and let each other in?

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. H. Starr
• Release date: Nov 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386056362

D. H. Starr

DH Starr is an avid reader and writer. He loves romance of all sorts ranging from sweet coming-of-age stories to steamy romances.  A passionate person, he loves to insert angst in his stories, creating internal and external tension, making his characters work for their happy ending. When not writing, DH can be found twirking in dance clubs or ogling sexy men at beaches and pools.

Book preview

One

Nick Pinchert checked his trunk one last time. Junior year of high school was over and he had his summer ahead of him. While most of his friends would busy themselves with athletic camps and parties, Nick had other plans. No night drives around his small Connecticut hometown, trolling for some kind of excitement. He had all he needed in nature-filled New Hampshire.

For eight years he’d attended overnight camp and couldn’t imagine a summer without the beautiful lake, rustic woods, and magical spirit of Camp Kilapea.

Is the car gassed up? Nick’s mother hovered by the door, wringing her hands. While she’d encouraged him to attend camp when he was younger, she’d taken to begging Nick to stay home once he started high school, her pleading growing exponentially more emotional with each passing year.

Yup. Took care of that last night. Nick gave his father a hug, then kissed his mom on the cheek. Don’t worry. It’s not like you won’t see me again in two months. You and Dad will have a blast while I’m gone. And wasn’t she supposed to be saying that to him?

You’re right. I know. It’s just I can’t believe how quickly you’ve grown up. One more year and you’re off to… His mother turned from him, burying her face in his dad’s chest.

His father wrapped one arm around his mom’s shoulders, using his free hand to wave Nick off, silently mouthing, Have fun!

Free to escape, Nick hoisted his trunk onto one shoulder, lugging it down the stairs and to his car. Once he’d managed to finagle it into the back compartment, he hopped into the driver’s seat of his Honda CRV and hit the road before his mother regained control of herself and attacked with a new round of hugs and kisses.

Nick took the long way to I-95 so he could view the exit for his hometown. Mianus, Connecticut was the source of many unoriginal jokes, and even he couldn’t suppress his laughter whenever he passed the huge sign. He’d told many of his friends when giving them directions to his house, You can’t miss Mianus.

Although very near the metropolis of New York City, Mianus was a small town consisting of middle to upper class families; Nick’s falling closer to the lower end of the range. Life centered around the high school. Varsity football, basketball and baseball helped him maintain the image of an all-American boy. If it weren’t for his athleticism, he’d probably have been invisible. And perhaps that wouldn’t have been a bad thing.

His friends always ribbed him about going to sleep-away camp, urging him to stick around for the summer. What they didn’t know about Nick could fill a book, perhaps a best-selling one. Or, more likely, his secret life could fill a gossip rag, ruining the façade he carefully protected.

In seventeen years he’d never had a girlfriend and had barely dated. His friends boasted constantly of their conquests, cycling through girls as fast as they moved from one favorite Playstation game to the next. Hell, who was he kidding? His friends were far more loyal to their games than they were to relationships.

But that was life in Mianus.

He’d figured out he was gay a few years earlier. If he were honest, he knew long before fourteen, but ninth grade was when his friends started dating, or more precisely, using girls and bragging about it afterwards.

He learned very quickly he didn’t feel the same way his friends did. When they’d ogle the cheerleaders’ perfect tits during football practices, Nick found himself far more interested in the tight ends of the players.

How rumors hadn’t cropped up about him remained a mystery. Perhaps it was the way the girls in his high school talked about him. He’d earned the reputation of the respectful boyfriend. The one who all girls wanted to date because he paid attention to them and not just their bodies.

And that was all fine and well, so long as his secret remained intact. He’d witnessed the hateful treatment of other boys who his friends suspected were weak or gay. His parents were amazing, attending all his games and giving him enough freedom to show trust in his judgment. How would they feel if they knew the real him? That question plagued him throughout the school year.

Which was why he never stayed home in the summer. From the first moment he stepped foot on the campgrounds of Kilapea, he’d felt the spirit that existed there like nowhere else. Campers shed their home-lives and immersed themselves in the brotherhood of overnight camping.

The leaders, grown from within, had proven through their own actions they were accepting, kind, and friendly. Many of them had won the camp honor award, but none had won as many as Nick. The awards were only given to a handful of campers who lived the camp motto: God First, the Other Fellow Second, Myself Last. Not a hard feat since Nick lived by the same mantra his whole life, but nowhere else in the world did he receive recognition for simply being a good person.

Nick had received the Kilapea pennant each year, a special award even more prestigious than honors, given to only one camper per division per session, and only if a deserving camper emerged. It was no surprise when, at thirteen, he’d been selected to enter the Leaders’ Corp, more commonly referred to as LCs.

Starting as an LC, he’d become a Leader in Training, or LIT, Cabin Leader and finally Division Head. And now, in his ninth year, only one short summer away from receiving his ten-year award, he served as Leadership Director. No question about it, his success at camp gave him the strength he needed to overcome the small-minded beliefs of his hometown.

Nick crossed out of Connecticut and drew in a deep, refreshing breath. His northward trip provided the perfect scene change to help Nick shift into camp mode. Increasing numbers of trees and mountains spanned farther and farther around him, swallowing up civilization.

By the time he arrived at camp, he’d cast off a year’s worth of his carefully protected shell.

He passed the Great Dolphin sign, which displayed the camp’s name. The dolphin, carved out of wood, polished so it shined, and varnish-protected, was set between three planks of rough wood forming a triangle. Burned into the planks were the three pillars of the camp spirit: body, mind, spirit. All three needed nurturing in order to truly experience what the camp had to offer.

Nick had a picture of that sign hanging in his bedroom. The dolphin, the camp’s spirit guide, represented peace, harmony, and resurrection. And that’s exactly what camp did for Nick. Resurrected him. Gave him the sense of renewal he needed to endure another year back home living under the cloud of secrets and hiding.

The directors had a cabin to themselves down by the waterfront and near the camp director’s home. Nick drove down the steep dirt road, passing signs for each of the five divisions that made up the living areas for campers. Flashes of memories greeted him, starting with the youngest division, Cadets, and moving along through Juniors, Middlers, Seniors, and Chiefs.

Each division contained campers in two-year age spans. Cadets were the youngest, aged eight and nine, then Juniors, nine and ten, and so on until campers reached the age of thirteen and joined the Chiefs. If a camper hadn’t been selected for leadership by fourteen, their camping experience ended at Kilapea.

The waterfront lay at the bottom of the road. He drove along the path leading across the base of the camp. The large dining hall came first, followed by the Great Lodge, main dock, art house, and finally his cabin. A few yards down lay the director’s house, a quaint, one-story cape style home with a weathered, unpainted wood exterior.

He parked his car, leaving his things for the moment, and strolled along the footpath, climbed the steps of the director’s porch, and knocked on the door. A mere formality, he let himself in, greeted immediately by Greg Bigelow, a tall, handsome man whose family had run the camp for the better part of the last hundred years, one generation taking over from the next.

The camp, the people, the location, all of it radiated history and welcomed Nick like an old friend. You made it. First one here, although I’m not surprised. You always said this place felt more like home to you than your actual home. He reached for Nick, gripping his shoulder with a strong hand, squeezing gently, then pulling him into a hug. Good to see you.

You too. Nick hugged Greg back, then followed him into the kitchen where his wife, Penny, cooked something which had Nick’s mouth watering.

Nick! Penny dropped the baster and crossed the kitchen with finesse. Welcome back. She drew him into a hug, kissing his cheek, then holding him at arm’s length. You just get bigger and bigger each year.

Thanks. Nick smiled, although he hardly agreed. At five-ten and a hundred fifty pounds, he hardly qualified as big. And you get prettier each year.

Oh, hush. A healthy pink blushed her cheeks as she giggled in her cheerful, heartwarming way. You ready for your new role?

While increased responsibilities back home often created doubt and fear, each new step forward at Kilapea had felt natural, as if he had an instinct for saying and doing just the right thing. Can’t wait.

Good. I know with you guiding our leaders, we’re sure to have a stellar year. She returned to the oven. I’m making pot roast. Most of the other directors should be showing up later and we’ll all sit down and reconnect.

Greg stepped next to Nick. Why don’t you get yourself situated? We’ll have time to catch up at dinner. Tomorrow evening is orientation for leadership so you’ll have a busy day preparing. Take some time to relax and reacquaint yourself with the grounds. He escorted Nick to the front door. We lost our waterfront director just a few days ago. Got offered a job back in New Jersey that he couldn’t pass up. Luckily we found someone else, but last minute notice didn’t leave me much of a choice. I’m afraid he’s an outsider. Name’s Kip. He’s the son of one of my good friends. I’m hoping you’ll take him under your wing. Not just because you’re the leadership director, but I can’t think of anyone better to teach him our ways than someone who lives our spirit so completely.

Nick managed to swallow the gasp before it escaped him. Nothing like dropping a bomb right before ushering him out of the house.

Someone new as Waterfront Director? Someone from the outside? Other than