Camp Pinecrest looks brand new — fresh paint, fresh cabins, fresh everything — except for Bunk 7, which looks like it's been standing there since long before the rest of camp was built. Scratched into the bed frame, worn smooth by someone else's thumb, is a name that isn't yours. And somehow, when the lights go out at exactly nine o'clock, sharp to the half-second, it starts to feel like the name was expecting you.