At first, I couldn’t go to the bathroom at night because you had to go down a trail to an outside shared bathroom. Finally, when a girl from our cabin went with me, she said it was weird that I would look over my shoulder all the time. I thought it was weird she didn’t. I had picked the biggest and heaviest flashlight to double as a weapon just in case someone was there to jump us. By the end of camp, I didn’t watch my back as much. I noticed that difference the most.

I liked the part on survival skills best. They showed us how to forage for things to eat if we were ever stuck outside overnight. I liked stepping into a lake for the first time too. Mud squished between my toes while I watched tadpoles scatter like dandelion seeds every which way. The camp counselors taught us arts and crafts. We threaded jasmine together to make bracelets, garlands, and crowns. On the last night, some of the girls wore their garlands to sleep so that the sweet jasmine enveloped them inside their sleeping bags as they dreamed of being forest fairies and wood nymphs. I saved mine in a Ziploc bag so that I could give it to Ma as a present.

I didn’t need the fairytales anymore. I had my fantasy to come home to. Marcel and I would race up the stairs with our sunburned noses and discover a new life. That was when the real fun would start. My Ba would pick me up from school and everyone would see that I had a father. He would meet my teacher at Open House and she would say what a good singer I am. He would not smile but nod, stern and proud just like he is in the photo.

When the day came, Ma and Ba didn’t pick us up at the bus station as promised. Aunt Huong came with Elle and Michelle instead. I knew something was wrong when Auntie didn’t even criticize us for getting dark. She didn’t call us “Indians,” or “slaves.” She didn’t say, “If your father were here, he would kill your mom for letting you get so dark that you look like a peasant.” She faked a cheery smile the whole ride home and before dropping us off said, “Be good to your poor Ma.” It prepared us for the closed curtains, browned ferns, the sink sky high with dirty dishes, the mom with no make-up, the house with no dad.

Ma was sitting on the couch in the dark staring at the blank screen of a TV. She said he never arrived.

Marcel said, “Stop messing with us. Where is he?” We ran through the apartment switching on all the lights.

Ma said, “Have you kids gone mad?”