01 | Summer of Solitude

Sometimes, it feels like high school teaches you more about navigating your social life than anything else. For example, one thing I've learned this year is to never, under any circumstance, let the enemy know they've gotten the best of you.

This is why I pretend not to notice as Mei and Rita stroll past my locker, laughing together way louder than necessary. Of course, I do notice, because once upon a time-- as in, two months ago-- that was me next to Mei. Now, on the last day of our junior year, it feels like a lifetime ago.

Around me, students talk loudly about their summer plans, signing yearbooks and hugging goodbye as they migrate towards the exits. My next-door-locker-neighbor Nico grabs paper after crumpled paper from his locker, tossing them in the direction of the nearby trashcan. Not a single wad actually enters the bin, since he's too busy ranting to his friend about summer school to pay attention to what he's doing.

I zip up my backpack and shut my emptied locker, heading for the school's west wing as I think about my own summer outlook. Honestly, it doesn't seem much more exciting than Nico's, since the most exciting things on my agenda are walking my dog and sitting on the couch watching Jeopardy with my dad. Two months ago my plans for vacation looked a lot different, but a lot has changed since April. Mainly, Mei got a new boyfriend, who came in a package deal with her very own new best friend: Rita Wexler.

Now, if you went to Winsor High, you'd know exactly who Rita Wexler is-- it's impossible not to. She's the type of girl who, whether they like her or not, everyone knows. She's pretty, she's outgoing, and when we were in the eighth grade, she started a rumor that I peed my pants in gym class, all because she found out we liked the same guy. Unfortunately, both Rita and that fake story followed me into high school, where I had to deal with diaper jokes for another year until finally, people got bored and my embarrassing story got replaced with someone else's. Thank God for the short teenage attention span.

To put it lightly, I've never been a big fan of Rita since then. There was a time when Mei had my back-- she'd roll her eyes with me whenever we heard her name and would draw devil horns on Rita's yearbook picture every year to try to make me laugh. But apparently, if it meant getting to date Michael Mills (who just looks like the type of guy whose name would have alliteration), none of that mattered to Mei anymore.

I weave through the crowded halls, smiling and waving to a couple teachers and saying bye to some classmates on my way out. Even when I'm flagged down to sign a few yearbooks, we don't say much apart from wishing each other a good summer. Before April happened, Mei and I had been joined at the hip since we were freshmen, meaning I never got close with anyone else-- now, even if I had the chance, I'm not so sure I'd want to.

That's another thing I've learned: If something hurts you once, it's bound to hurt you again.

That fact helps make my lonely summer vacation look a lot more appealing. And honestly, as mad as I am at Mei, I owe her a thank you. She showed me that I'm better off without all that friendship junk. What's the point if it just ends up with you getting stabbed in the back?

Still, even if it is for the best, I can't exactly say I'm over it. If I had any way of getting Mei back for what she did, I'd take it in a heartbeat-- it hardly seems fair that I'm walking around with a vendetta while she's walking around with Rita, Michael, and their entire clique of obnoxious thespians in tow.

I make my way outside to the school's pick-up zone and spot Dad's car waiting in line. The bright June sun beats down on me, warming my skin. I embrace the heat because I know what's coming-- sure enough, when I get in the car, Dad has the AC on full blast.

He smiles at me as I buckle up. "How was your last day?"

"It was fine," I answer, substituting the word "boring" for something a little less negative. "We didn't really do much in any of my classes. Thanks for picking me up again-- it was nice not having to take the bus this week."

Dad teaches Spanish at the nearby middle school, and their vacation started last week, which means I've gotten a taste of what Mei's had for the past two months-- a ride to and from school that doesn't smell like B.O. and isn't packed with our annoyingly loud peers. Sure, her ride is with Michael Mills and mine is with Dad, but the logistics still stand.

"Wish I could do it more often," he says, pulling out of the line. It's a minute before he speaks up again, sounding somewhat suspicious. "Your mother called today. You know what she said?"

"That Thailand sucks and she's coming home?" I ask, knowing he won't laugh.

He gives me one of his looks, a sideways glance that tells me to drop it. "No, Thailand is wonderful and she's getting a lot of great stuff for her articles-- in fact, her boss wants her to stay a little longer."

I sigh, looking out the window, trying not to get angry. Dad and I both know that was exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear. When Mom started her new career as a travel writer, I didn't realize how different things would be. I'm used to her working down the street and writing for the local newspaper, not spending weeks halfway across the world. "How much longer is a little?"

"A month."

"A month?!"

"Yes, but Del, it's good news-- the magazine's paying her a lot more. We know how hard this has been for you, so we wanted to do something nice."

I look over, intrigued. What does that mean, they got me something? Most likely it's photography related, but what? Film? A new camera? Whatever it is, I hope it can cure me of the creativity block I've had for the past two months-- I haven't taken a photo I've been proud of in what feels like forever.

Dad grins, shifting in his seat to reach into the back pocket of his jeans. From it, he pulls out a glossy, rectangular pamphlet and places it on my lap. A familiar collage with pictures of a lake, woods, cabins, and smiling teens stares back up at me-- I've gotten one of these in the mail every summer since I turned thirteen. Still, I don't register what it means until he says the words.

"You're going to Camp Create It this year!"

My eyes widen, and for a split second my heart skips with excitement-- then drops to my stomach as it dawns on me that this summer isn't like the past three that I've been begging to go.

You see, Camp Create It focuses on visual and performing arts. Basically, campers sign up for different courses and take workshops to help them master their craft. For me, half the reason I wanted to go was for the photography courses. The other half was Mei.

The two of us always gushed over the pamphlets and the website together, imagining how fun it would be to spend summer at Lake Kintaw, surrounded by nature and teenagers who shared our interests. Mei's family could afford it, but she never wanted to go on her own. It's hard to believe it looking at her now, but there used to be a time when she was painfully shy. Truth is, I wouldn't have wanted to go without her, either-- the idea of camp without Mei never even crossed my mind until now.

Dad shifts his gaze to me for a second, obviously confused why I'm not jumping up and down in my seat and thanking him profusely. He knows about my fallout with Mei, but I guess he didn't think it would have anything to do with this.

I look between him and the colorful brochure, not sure what to say. On one hand, my parents have just tried to do something really nice for me. On the other hand, the summer of solitude I was looking forward to has gone out of focus.

"I-- Uh-- Wow," I fumble over the words, trying to force a smile. "Really?"

"I know, I know," he says, as if he understands my underwhelming reaction. "We've been telling you for years we can't afford it, but with Mom's new job, we can, so don't even worry about it. And this way, you won't have to spend the next month missing her-- you'll be so caught up in all that photography stuff you'll probably forget the both of us even exist."

"I don't know what to say." I laugh, because the words are more honest than he'll probably catch on to. It's the way I've dreamt of spending my summer for years, but now... without Mei, it feels strange and unfamiliar. Will it even be fun to go without her? What if I spend the whole time wondering how things would be if we were still friends?

I grimace at the word, feeling stupid. Did the word friends even ever apply to us? She obviously didn't care about me that much if she was able to ditch me without a second glance.

You know what? Screw her. And screw friendship, too. I'll go to camp by myself and have a great time without any potentially-painful strings attached. As far as I'm concerned, it'll just be me and my photography. If there's anything that can cure me of my sudden inability to take a good photo, it's Camp Create It.

This time, the grin that breaks out on my face isn't forced at all. "Thanks, Dad-- this is... this is really sweet of you guys."

He pulls into our driveway and parks in front of the garage doors, looking over at me with brown eyes that are practically identical to my own. "We just want you to have a good summer, Del. And this way, Mom will be home before you know it."

I smile, looking back to the brochure. A bright photo of Lake Kintaw stares back up at me from underneath the heading: Camp Create It! Helping Teens Discover Their Artistic Potential. My stomach twinges with nervous anticipation as I realize that having a good summer might not be so hard after all.

Thanks so much for reading the first chapter! I'm really excited for this story and I hope you guys will like it. 💚