1.

She was nine years old and on her way to sleep-away camp for the first time.

She knew that her parents had made some financial sacrifices to give her this opportunity. They wanted their daughter to get out of Scranton, ride a pony and breathe some fresh air at least once in her young life.  She didn’t want to go, though. She thought longingly of the flier that her art teacher had given her about a summer program at the museum for young artists. That’s what she was…a young artist.  She didn’t want to canoe or cook hotdogs over a fire. She just wanted to draw. She had tried to tell her parents that, but she wasn’t good at telling people what she wanted. They didn’t hear her in their excitement to tell her how much fun they had had at camp when they were young, and now she was on this stupid bus on her way to camp KiKoMahMe.

The rickety green and yellow bus bounced along the country roads and the other campers already seemed to know each other. They knew every word of every song that was sung as well as the elaborate hand gestures and clapping patterns that went along with them.  Pam could feel the distance between herself and her pretty yellow bedroom get farther and farther.  She clutched her backpack in front of her and the tears started to roll down her face.  She didn’t want to cry….didn’t want to be the girl that everyone made fun of because she cried on the bus, but she couldn’t help herself. Soon her face was wet with tears.

“Hi. Can I sit here? My name is Carly. I’m one of your group leaders. You must be Pam,” said the khaki-clad, bucket hat wearing counselor that sat on the seat next to her.

“How…how do you know my name?” Pam sniffed.

“It’s on your backpack. That’s a really pretty name tag. Did you make that?” Carly said pointing at the tag.

 Pam was proud of it and was glad someone had noticed. She had spent a week practicing different ways to write her name and had chosen an extra curly version.  She had spent hours adorning her three letters with dragonflies and flowers in purples, greens and blues. She had carefully applied the glitter and sequins and attached the ribbon that held it to her backpack. She nodded back at Carly.

“Well, someone as talented as you will have to spend a lot of time in the arts and crafts cabin.” Carly handed Pam a green bandana.

As Pam wiped her face, she thought to herself that maybe camp wouldn’t be THAT bad.