That’s how TimTim and I teamed up and spent the day figuring out what our next move with Syl would be.

  I’m sure in most tales of this nature when teens are confronted with new powers and problems in the midst of their peers who are generally the ones who make them feel powerless and problematic in the first place, this is where I’d be telling you about the popular groups and the outcasts, the elite and the misfits, the favored and the not.

  I’d provide you with a heartrending scene like the canoeing competition that afternoon where TimTim and I had to put up with the relatable humiliation of being last, likely being tipped in the lake by golden-haired, bronze-muscled teen demi-snobs.

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  But, remember, Happy Camp. That kind of top shelf brand of teen snootiness was at least two time zones away. Sure, there were kids at camp that acted more privileged, looked readier for reality TV, smelled better, but I can safely say through the lens of one with many identity issues, I was really little different than anyone else. Other than the whole emanating ghostly aura thing and being an imp magnet.

  Suffice it to say that far from flailing and failing in the canoe competition, TimTim and I crushed it. We absolutely smoked the other campers. More TimTim than me with his ghost arms, but I was officially in the vessel.

  So, this isn’t a revenge of the nerds tale about putting our peers in place. In fact when Syl, TimTim, Qpid, Hell and I went missing, our fellow campers rallied to find us. They did indeed. And I’m very grateful, and also equally embarrassed because I almost trafficked every kid at Happy Camp into horrific undead slavery. Yeah. Not proud of that.