28Brooke Daniels stopped in the middle of the dusty brown road and stared at the insane mob of girls who were storming it, screaming and laughing, running under a sign that proclaimed "Camp Wildflower" in bright yellow curlicue handwriting. What am I doing here…
The trip on the rickety old bus had taken two hours, with Brooke sitting in the back, talking to no one, and inhaling what was probably an unsafe amount of school bus fumes. She had gone over her situation in her head a thousand times, trying with all the mental strength she possessed to come up with something positive about it. She had been unsuccessful.
"You there! What's your name? Excuse me!" screeched an old lady carrying a megaphone. She was wearing khaki shorts that came to her knees and a bright green t-shirt that said "Camp Wildflower."
Brooke turned around to look at the woman. "Brooke. Brooke Daniels," she said, squinting to see the woman but failing miserably because of the sun. She put her hand up over her eyes to block it from her vision.
The woman pushed her visor up a tad. "I assume you're new here." She looked expectantly at Brooke, waiting for an answer. It took Brooke a moment to realize what she wanted, and so she gave a small nod after a moment.
"Well Brooke, you are a camper at Camp Wildflower now, and you are expected to participate in camp activities." She had a slight Southern accent that made Brooke wonder where she was from, especially since this was Minnesota.
"Yes, ma'am," said Brooke politely, not liking where this conversation was going.
"When I said, 'Now girls, I want you to dash under that sign and into your home for the next eight weeks, because we're going to have loads of fun!' I meant for all the girls, including you Miss Brooke Daniels, to run under the sign and into the camp," said the woman disapprovingly.
"Oh," said Brooke. "I…I didn't think you actually wanted us to run in there."
"That's what 'dash' means," said the woman condescendingly. I know what dash means, you old hag…
"I'm sorry, Ms….um…"
"Prinkle," prompted the woman.
Of course it's her, thought Brooke. Ms. Prinkle, the camp director, good friends with my grandmother, ruined my summer….
"Ms. Prinkle, yes, would you like me to run in there now?" asked Brooke, pleading to God that this woman had a soul and would not subject Brooke to making a complete fool out of herself.
"No, no that won't be necessary," said Ms. Prinkle, turning her back on Brooke. Brooke breathed a sigh of relief. "But," exclaimed Ms. Prinkle, pivoting back around to face the girl. "I expect you to participate in all camp activities from now on, is that clear?"
"Yes, Ms. Prinkle."
"Very good. Now follow me."
Brooke walked behind Ms. Prinkle under the sign and into Camp Wildflower. All of the campers were gathered round the flagpole, talking, catching up with their friends, and giggling nonstop.
There were a series of wooden tables with alphabetical signs on them arranged in a circle around the flagpole. Various counselors and camp staff took their places at the tables while Ms. Prinkle approached the flagpole, weaving her way through the girls.
"Excuse me girls. Excuse me. Pardon me. Oh, Cecelia dear! Lovely to see you. Excuse me. Thank you," said Ms. Prinkle, positioning herself beside the flagpole. "Now girls, the Camp Wildflower song!" She started to raise the green "Camp Wildflower" flag, with, you guessed it, a wildflower in the center, as the girls started singing the song.
"Camp Wildflower, Camp Wildflower,
You blossom above the rest…"
Brooke turned her head to look around at the girls she would be spending her summer with. They all seemed so…happy. It felt like she was on a movie set for a stupid teenage direct-to-DVD movie, and it only made her spirits sink lower.
She was mouthing "watermelon" just in case Ms. Prinkle was watching her and she was accused of not participating again. She had heard it somewhere that it would look like you were singing the song, but Brooke didn't see how it could look like anything but watermelon.
The song ended and Ms. Prinkle announced that the girls needed to go to their respective table in terms of their last names, where they'd get their cabin assignment. Apparently, their things had already been brought to their cabins, which was a relief to Brooke.
She was the first to the table marked C-D, which was a relief, because the faster she got to her cabin, the more choice she would have in terms of the sleeping arrangement.
It was an art form, picking a bunk. It couldn't be near the bathroom, or else the light would keep you up all night. Near the front wasn't good either because you get the brunt of the trumpet that wakes you up in the morning. Or maybe it was a horn; it varied from camp to camp. Brooke wouldn't have been surprised if it was "Spring" from Vivaldi's "Four Seasons", given the theme of the camp.
No, the bunk had to be near the back. That way you could keep track of all your things, and be ready to dart out the back door in case something happened, provided there was a back door. God forbid you get a bunk in the middle of the cabin and subject yourself and your things to total ruination. She knew about bra freezings. She was keeping her bra on at all times, that was for sure.
"Hi, what's your name?" asked a perky redheaded counselor seated at Table C-D. Her nametag read "Amy" and Brooke couldn't help noticing that she had a really wide smile and really white teeth that almost matched her t-shirt. All the Camp Wildflower counselors wore a white t-shirt with the Camp Wildflower logo on it in green as well as green shorts. It was very color coordinated.
"Brooke Daniels."
"Well, Brooke, you are in…" Amy checked her list.
While she did, Brooke thought about how much she didn't like it when people used your name just after learning it, as if they were actually friends with you.
"Black-Eyed Susan. It's just up the hill and the third one on your left. Here's a map! Have a great time at Camp Wildflower!"
Brooke gave her a curt nod, in no mood for smiles, and walked away, leaving the next girl to deal with Amy the incredibly perky counselor.
Many of the girls were already trekking up to the cabin area, the ones who had been to camp before practically running, and the newbies taking a slightly slower pace.
As Brooke passed the different cabins, she was laughing inside at the cabins that were absurdly named Magnolia, Daffodil, Clover, and Queen Anne's Lace. She wasn't even sure a daffodil was a wildflower, but that didn't really matter.
The cabins were all spread out into concentric half circles that were interspersed with pine trees and bushes and poles holding up electric lines. So much for the outdoors.
The cabins themselves were fairly large, wooden, and had small porches in the front and back of them. They seemed to be built from reddish-brown logs that hadn't been treated or sanded, making the appearance very rough, but Brooke knew it was all a façade. This camp was no more rustic than she was blonde.
She came upon a cabin that was slightly hidden with the sign stating "Black-Eyed Susan" in front. It was nearer to the forest than the rest of the cabins, and was also the closest to what Brooke made out to be the swimming equipment area and the lake, with a number of green kayaks and canoes piled up on the side of a small storage shed. Perfect.
Brooke walked up the stairs and into the cabin. It was fairly nice, with a bathroom, spacious sleeping area, and multiple bunkbeds. There was a fan up on the ceiling, which Brooke was sure would come in handy, and a screen door that opened up to a small porch. She was the first in her cabin, so after finding her bag from the pile on the wooden floor, she picked a low bunk near the back of the cabin. A perfect spot.
She started unpacking her things, pulling out the clothes and items that her mother had packed for her. Some she didn't recognize, and she figured that her mother must have bought her new clothes for the occasion.
There were small drawers underneath the bunks for the girls to put their clothes and such. Brooke was glad that hers rattled loudly, so that if anyone except for her opened it, she would be able to hear it instantly.
Once everything was out, at the bottom of her bag, she found a picture frame, face down. She turned it over and recognized the picture as the one that her mother kept on her dresser.
It was of the two of them, at a luncheon at the nursing home where her mother worked. Brooke spent a lot of time there, mostly because she had nothing else to do. Her mother was smiling widely, and Brooke was giving a no-teeth smile. She never really liked her teeth.
Brooke put the picture next to her bed, up against the wall, and as she did, she felt a pang of homesickness. Her mother must have put the picture in there first thing, before she packed anything else. The two of them had never been extremely close, but they were all each other had, and the thought of her mother all alone in their house, eating dinner alone, without someone to cry to each night for eight weeks…It was almost heartbreaking.
But she sent you here in the first place, Brooke reminded herself. It was her decision.
As she picked up the bag in order to shove it under the bunk bed, she noticed a note lying at the bottom. It had been hidden under the picture frame.
Brooke-
Hi Sweetie! You're probably unpacking your things right now, and cursing me and your grandmother a thousand times over, and I suppose you have every right to. I know that you didn't want this, but it's for this best. Really, it is. You need a chance to recover from everything and work out your problems and deal with what's happened in your own way. Sitting around the house all day isn't going to help. I hope you have a fantastic eight weeks, and I want you to know that I'll be missing you every single moment that you're away. I love you so much, my Brooke, and don't ever forget it!
Love,
Mom
Tears welled up in Brooke's eyes as she finished the note. A few of them because she was touched by the note, but most were out of anger and frustration. There was nothing that an eight-week girl's camp could to do for her problems.
There was no pointing sending her here. When she got back, they would still be there and she would have to face them head on, rather than hiding.
She heard a few girls coming up the stairs, and she hurried out onto the porch so they wouldn't see her crying. The last thing she needed was seven girls asking her what was wrong and prying through her brain relentlessly.
Life's not fair. Get used to it. That was what her ex-best friend Sasha used to say to her at least once a week, at least, before Brooke stopped talking to her.
And it wasn't. Brooke was constantly reminded of that every day.
Suck it up, she told herself, running her fingertips under her eyes to reduce the redness and wipe away the tears. Children are dying in Africa right now because of their drinking water. You can get through this.
She took a deep breath and walked into the cabin.
Two girls had claimed the beds closest to the door and the bathroom and were dumping their duffel bags upside down onto the bed. They were laughing about something that one had said, and Brooke got the distinct feeling that they knew each other from before camp.
They stopped talking when Brooke stepped in, surprised there was already someone there, and didn't speak again, waiting for Brook to introduce herself.
Brooke didn't say anything either, and she looked at them analytically, trying to get an idea of what she would have to deal with for the next eight weeks.
They were complete opposites of each other, one a petite brunette, her hair in pigtail braids, and the other a tall blonde. The blonde was wearing a Yankees hat and looked extremely athletic, her softball glove in hand. The pigtailed one, although she didn't look it, also must have been sporty; Brooke saw her throw a volleyball up onto her bunk.
"Hi! I'm Olivia," said the shorter girl, giving Brooke a bright, yet cautious smile.
"Brooke," she said, nodding her head and giving a slight, yet insincere smile. She wasn't in any mood to socialize.
"And I'm Sydney," said the softball girl, raising a hand to identify herself. Brooke nodded again. When nothing else was said, the girls turned back to their conversation, leaving Brooke to catch up on her reading.
As Sydney and Olivia started to unpack, more girls started trickling in, four in all. Introductions were made, and soon the girls were all chattering together like they'd known one another for years, except for Brooke, who sat on her bed silently.
The girls introduced themselves to Brooke, who gave them the same treatment that she did Olivia and Sydney. They immediately understood the underlying meaning of Brooke's curt tone and started chattering amongst each other.
Somehow, the conversation got around to the subject of beloved camp director Ms. Prinkle. It turned out that Brooke wasn't the only one who thought she was a little strange.
Olivia started performing an imitation of Ms. Prinkle waking the girls up in the morning, skipping around and singing really bad opera, when two more people came into the cabin. One was dressed in a green and white counselor's uniform and the other looked like she was a camper. She was the one who caught Brooke's attention.
"Hi, I'm Gabrielle," said the girl with a sly smile, as if she had a juicy secret that only she knew and one that she wouldn't be telling.
Brooke's stomach plummeted as Gabrielle walked over to the lower bunk bed right across from hers at the back of the cabin and placed her things down on top of it, the mattress sagging from all the weight.
She looks like Sasha.
To some people, it would have been a huge compliment to be compared with her ex-best friend Sasha Peterson, teenage beauty queen and heartthrob of West Oak High School.
Brooke didn't exactly see it that way.
True, Gabrielle was absolutely gorgeous. Her long red hair flowed down her back, ending in slight curls, and, in contrast, she had piercing green eyes that she used to shamelessly scan over everyone in the cabin. She looked as though she was ready to go to the mall, with her designer purse and purple sundress, rather than a "rustic" outdoors camp.
But when Brooke looked at Gabrielle she saw more than Sasha's appearance. She saw her attitudes, her facial expressions, her mannerisms. It was like God was taunting her from up above, cursing her with the one person that Brooke had been sent here to get away from.
"Hey girls!" said the blonde counselor at the front of the cabin, interrupting the wild chaos that was rampaging through Brooke's brain. "I'm Anna, and I'll be your counselor for these eight weeks at Camp Wildflower." Anna wore the Camp Wildflower counselor uniform of white shirt and green shorts with her short hair up in a tiny ponytail. "I'll just give you girls a little more time to unpack and then we're supposed to do some get-to-know-each-other activities."
Everybody groaned, including Brooke. She hated these types of activities with a passion. The name game was the absolute worst. One of the few times she'd be talkative was when trying to get out of playing those wretched torture devices.
The girls had already gotten a head-start.
'We know each other already,"
"I'll bet I can name five things about most of the people in this room!"
"We have eight weeks to get to know each other!"
Brooke could save her breath. Anna finally gave in and let the girls do what they liked. This satisfied them, and pretty soon, the cabin was completely "girl-ified" with purple and pink blankets, as well as all sorts of different colored pillows being thrown all over the place.
"What are you doing here?"
Brooke looked up from her book that she was reading to see Gabrielle standing over her, a smug look on her face. Go away, Sasha clone.
"This is my bed…" said Brooke, ststaing the obvious, just in case Gabrielle was too dumb to figure that out.. "And I was here first, so no, you can't have it."
Gabrielle laughed a warm laugh that, thankfully, sounded nothing like Sasha's high-pitched squeals. "Someone's defensive. I don't believe we've met by the way," she said extending her hand
Brooke didn't take it. "Brooke," she said, her head turned back to the book.
Gabrielle sat down on Brooke's bunk, being careful not to bump her head, and took the book away from the girl before she could even protest. "And now I'll ask my previous question. What are you doing here?" Her eyes flashed, silently daring Brooke to answer her.
"I might ask you the same question! This is my bed! And you just lost my page!" protested Brooke, becoming increasingly more irritated with her unwelcome visitor.
"256," said Gabrielle calmly. "I meant what are you doing at Camp Wildflower? You obviously don't want to be here." She stated this matter of factly, as if there was no possible way she could be wrong. It aggravated Brooke even more that she was exactly right.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" asked Brooke sarcastically.
Gabrielle ignored it and went on. "You didn't introduce yourself to me, apparently you've only said one word to the other girls, literally. Either you're just very anti-social, in which case you shouldn't be at this camp at all, or you just don't want to be here and are taking it out on us instead of the person that made you come."
Brooke just stared at her, her face blank. She wasn't going to give this girl the satisfaction of knowing that she'd hit the nail on the head.
"Now which is it?"
And why the hell would I tell you? There was no way she was just going to open up to this random girl who she'd just met not even five minutes ago.
"Why does it matter?" she asked coldly. Okay, maybe she was being harsh, but this girl was pressing all of her buttons.
"Cause I'd like to know why you're being such a frigid ice bitch. We're spending eight weeks together, and I feel like it should be at least three before I get the urge to slap somebody. You're making me reconsider."
As ridiculous as it sounded, Brooke had to admit, she had a point. She ought to be slapped. It wouldn't be the first time.
After a huge exaggerated sigh, Brooke turned to Gabrielle. "My mom made me come here," said Brooke finitely. "There, you happy?"
Gabrielle smiled confidently, pleased that she had won. "Very." Brooke wanted to wipe the grin off her face with a slap of her own, but she knew that wouldn't exactly help with removing the "frigid ice bitch" facade. "And also, could you-"
"No," Brooke said, cutting her off. "That's all you're getting out of me today. I'm not your puppy."
Before Gabrielle could come up with a response, Anna came out of the bathroom and announced that they had to be in the dining hall for dinner in five minutes. All of the girls hurried to put on their camp uniforms, which were identical to the green and white ones of the counselors. Brooke wasn't exactly happy about the tight and itchy T-shirt collar, but there were worse things in life.
They walked outside, the sun fading down into the distance over the lake. Brooke took in a fresh gulp of air. The breeze felt nice after the hot summer day, even with the fans in their cabins.
All of the other campers were skipping down to the dining hall, each in their own little groups, giggling. Some of the girls from her cabins did the same, but Brooke wasn't interested in being buddy-buddy with anyone and walked alone.
Once inside the hall, they found the table with a picture of a Black-Eyed Susan on it and sat down, waiting for the food to be brought around. The dining hall was deafening, filled up with chatter to the very nooks and crannies.
Suddenly, Ms. Prinkle appeared out of nowhere, stepped onto the small stage set up against a wall, and took the microphone out of its holder. "Good evening girls!" she said with glee.
There was a quiet groan all around the room that Ms. Prinkle didn't seem to notice. "Sit back," said one of the girls that Brooke hadn't met yet. "It'll be a while."
"Well girls, I hope you've enjoyed your first afternoon this summer of Camp Wildflower as much as I have..." continued Ms. Prinkle. "I just know that this is going to be a wonderful year. Everybody is going to get along so well, and we'll have lots of fun without any of those yucky men messing everything up." And there's the silver lining, thought Brooke, smiling inside. "At least for a little while, because that's one of my announcements. As you know, our brother camp, Camp Pine Ridge is just across the lake from us." There was a murmur of excited agreement from all the girls. "Well, it has been decided that next Saturday, one week and five days from now, we will be holding a dance for the girls of Camp Wildflower and the boys of Camp Pine Ridge!"
Brooke's stomach plummeted and she closed her eyes, pausing a moment to compose herself. Why me? God was trying to piss her off today.
Ms. Prinkle beamed as a roar of excitement erupted in the dining hall, dying down to a millions conversations between girls discussing this latest piece of news.
"Another little announcement for you girls: The village of Pine Ridge will be open during your free time three times a week for you to go into, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays." This piece of information didn't bring quite the response the dance did, but it did get a cheer of approval. Ms. Prinkle went on to list a number of activities that the girls could participate in, but they weren't listening.
"What's the village of Pine Ridge?" asked the girl seated next to her..
Brooke shrugged. She didn't really care.
Gabrielle spoke up from across the table. "It's a small village about fifteen minutes from here. It's got a lot of quaint little shops that actually have some pretty cool stuff. There's clothing shops and a bookstore, a candy shop, a bakery…everything, really. It's the cutest little place."
"Girls, one more thing," said Ms. Prinkle into the microphone, but no one paid attention. She had to clear her throat three times before everybody caught on. "Thank you. Tonight we will be having a movie showing by the lake next to the arts and crafts hall at 8:00 p.m. Everyone is welcome to attend. Have a good dinner!"
As Brooke looked up from the napkin she'd been studying, she noticed that Gabrielle was smiling. It wasn't a normal smile, but a private one, meant only for herself. Brooke frowned, wondering what was inside those wheels. It's just a movie….
Dinner ended half an hour later. All the girls went back to their cabins to put something warmer on, because it was getting dark and it would be cold by the lake.
Brooke just headed to her bed where her book was, opened to page 256, and started reading. Everyone else was talking about what movie they thought would be shown. The list included a whole bunch of Disney movies (the youngest age of a cabin of girls at Camp Wildflower was 11, so it couldn't be PG-13.), some Pixar, and maybe a few others. They all decided that if they didn't like it, they could just talk quietly.
"Brooke, are you coming?" asked Olivia, at the door with the other girls, ready to leave for the movie. Brooke just rolled her eyes, but no one could see because her hair was in front of her face. Olivia was obviously just trying to be friendly and didn't really care whether Brooke came or not. Brooke shook her head as an answer, no bothering to lift her head from her book.
"Where's Gabrielle?" asked someone, looking at the bunks, but not finding her.
"I'm in here," called a voice from the closed bathroom door. "You guys go on ahead; I'll catch up in a little bit."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I've still got some unpacking to do anyways, I'll stay with Brooke. It'll be fine." Ummmm… or not.
The girls said no more about it and excitedly bounded out the door and down the hill to where the movie was being shown.
Brooke set aside her book and grabbed her jacket, getting ready to go outside with the rest of the girls. There was no way she was going to be stuck there alone with Gabrielle.
Just as she did, Gabrielle came out of the bathroom, looking slightly different. She was wearing more makeup than before, and she didn't have her camp uniform on. Instead, she wore some jeans and a tight green short-sleeved top. She walked over to her bunk, where she pulled out a tube of lipstick from her purse and applied it. Once she was done, she looked over at Brooke, who was pulling on some warm socks.
"And where are you going?"
"To the movie," said Brooke. Far, far away from you.
"No, you're not."
Brooke looked up at her, annoyed that Gabrielle felt she could just order her around like that. "I'm pretty sure I am."
"And why? So that you can get away from me?" Brooke said nothing, refusing to admit that that was the reason. "Brooke, we both know that you don't want to be with those girls watching the movie any more than I do."
Brooke looked up at the girl, completely thrown off her guard by this statement. "Wait, what?"
Gabrielle didn't hear her. She kept talking as she reached for a pair of gold hoop earrings. "I mean, it's not even that. I don't want to be at this camp any more than you do." Brooke still was extremely confused. "Why do you think I didn't go with them?" she asked rhetorically, turning to Brooke.
"Wait, so what are you doing now?" Brooke still hadn't figured out what instigated the wardrobe change.
"I," she said with a sly smile. "am going to see the only reason I come to this camp."
"What, do you have like a kid here living under the dock or something?" Brooke asked dryly, leaning back onto her bed.
Gabrielle threw back her head and laughed. "Not quite." She finished primping opened the back screen door. "Well?" She asked Brooke, a look of expectation on her face.
"Well, what?"
"Are you coming?" asked Gabrielle, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Brooke sat up. "And why the hell would I-"
"Because you're just dying to know where I'm going. Don't lie."
And while that wasn't exactly true, Brooke had to admit, she was curious. It had to be something really good to warrant coming to the camp year after year.
She sighed, an argument raging inside her brain. The thing about Sasha( and therefore probably about her clone, Gabrielle) was, when you got past all her bad qualities, she was fun. She took risks and didn't care about getting into trouble because she knew that she could always talk her way out of it.
Brooke was itching to have some fun.
Ever since her mom had told her that she was going to Camp Wildflower, she'd been in a horrible mood, 24/7, nonstop. And while it might have helped stop people from bothering her, there was no real benefit for herself. She'd sort of just been a self-induced hermit, cut off from the outside world, as well as any fun at all.
It would just be one night, and she'd go see what it was, come back, and be done with it. Famous last words…she thought to herself, but it didn't matter.
"Let's go," she said, leaving her coat on her bed and walking outside.
They walked off of the back porch and Gabrielle started jogging towards the trees that served as a border for the edge of the cabin area. They took a dirt path through the "forest", which was growing darker by the minute.
The path winded a lot, sometimes doubled back on itself, and Brooke was starting to doubt whether they were actually going someplace.
"Where are we going?" she asked, raising her voice so that Gabrielle could hear over the rustling of the trees. It was windy out, and Brooke wished she hadn't left her jacket in the cabin.
"You'll see," called Gabrielle, giving Brooke a secretive smile. And with that, she turned around and kept jogging.
A/N: Hey, thanks so much for reading! Reviews are always appreciated, and I hope to have the rest of the revised chapters up soon!