They were products of what is called the natural law of survival of the fittest. But their fitness was not defined by human needs, or market forces, or any grand design. In truth, they did not survive because they were fit. Rather, they were proven fit because they survived. They survived by accident.

Day One

Day One

An arrival necessarily implies a departure from the place previously occupied.

My shoulders are sticky with my father’s sweat where I took his arm to get out of the station wagon. We’re met by a tall brunette in Bermuda shorts. “I’m Sue, the senior counselor in Jean’s cabin. Carole’s around here somewhere.”

“Pleased to meet you.” My parents speak in unison so perfect that someone really ought in some manner to express amusement. But instead Sue and Dad shake hands and my mother accepts a clipboard loaded with forms, while I sit, silent, beside the car. The sun beats down on my head.

“Has Jean ever spent a night away from home?”

My dad says, “No.”

“Well,” Mom adds, “only with us with her, on family trips and whatnot.” She’s working on the forms on the hood of our station wagon. Inside my sister Cindy is sprawled across the backseat.

Sue says, “We have a lot of first-time campers this time. Jean’ll fit right in.”

Mom’s smile is a little rigid. “Well, I know she will. She always does. You know, she’s in public high school. Going to graduate next year.”

“With honors, I might add. Beta Club. Key Club. I-Don’t-Know-What-All Club. And perfect attendance for seven years in a row—” Dad’s habitual grin goes up a wide notch.

“At any rate,” Mom says, “we thought it would be good for her to have an experience away from home. Away from us too. She needs to find out she can survive without us. She’s never let cerebral palsy hold her back.”

I shrug. I feel no need to prove anything, but if this is what my parents want, I can indulge them. While I’m at camp, my family will be sleeping in a tent on the beach.

“I know she’ll have a great time. You’re not nervous, are you?”

It takes me by surprise, her turning from my parents to me without warning, and I’m not ready to talk. I’m struggling to get words out, and I realize I don’t even know what words I’m going for. There’s no way out when it gets like this.

Sue jumps back in. “Hey, that’s a really cute outfit.” It’s a culotte suit in a funny print—the words NO NO NO NO NO repeated all over.