“This is Anne,” Maggie began, making a sweeping gesture at the crybaby I’d seen earlier in the parking lot. Anne was no longer sobbing, but the waterworks hadn’t cleared up completely. She nodded to acknowledge her name and lifted her hand in a little wave.

“And Lisa.” Lisa didn’t look up from her methodical unpacking, but she also lifted her hand in a small wave to the room in general.

“And Eden.” I followed suit, unwilling to break the routine.

“And this is Cora,” she finished. Cora mumbled a syllable that might have been “Hi,” but spared us the beauty queen hand twist. Maggie decided that her work with us was done, at least for the time being, so she left us all to “get acquainted, okay?”

Within five minutes I realized with a passive displeasure that I had been stashed in the oddball cabin. I never did decide if they put me there because my cover was blown and they thought I was one of the oddballs, or if I was just lucky.

Cora was the easiest to get to know, since she didn’t tear up at the drop of a hat or freak out if you bumped the side of her bed and caused her socks to fall out of alignment, so I chose her as my first potential camp buddy. We had a number of things in common, and it was easy to talk. She was also tall for her age, and like me, she was the sort of girl who got asked a lot where her parents were from, since that’s more polite than wondering aloud about somebody’s racial makeup. Cora had never been to camp before, and she didn’t know anyone else either.

“I’ve got a grandfather who’s dying,” she informed me over supper.

“I’m sorry,” I said, just being polite, and she called me on it.

“No, you’re not, but that’s okay. It’s kind of sad, but I don’t know him real well. I’m just telling you so in case I go home in the middle of things, you’ll know why. Mom didn’t want me to come at all, since Grandpa’s sick and we might have to leave for his funeral, but my stepdad said they could always bring me home if it came to that. Are your grandparents still alive?”

I had to think about it a minute. “My grandmother is, I think. I don’t know. For some reason, we don’t have much to do with her. I’m not even sure what she looks like.”

“Why don’t you have much to do with her?” Cora asked between a couple bites of cornbread.