To my mom, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I acted. I know better. You’re only doing what’s best for me. I’m excited to go back to camp.”

“Olivia,” she cooed. “My baby girl. It’s gonna be fun, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” I hugged her. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. When dealing with my mom, repetition did wonders for my authenticity.

“It’ll be good for the soul,” Mom said. “We all need breaks sometimes.”

I was sixteen. I didn’t have a job. It was summer. What I needed a break from wasn’t something I wanted to hear her explain. “We do.”

“We should go,” Aidy interrupted. “I don’t want to do this tomorrow.”

I sensed challenge in her voice. “Where?”

“To Ms. DeVeau’s.”

I’d forgotten. At the sound of my unchecked gasp, Mom closed her eyes to pray for my obedience.

“I’ll run and change, and then I’m ready,” I told Aidy. If I wanted to win the war of Camp Califree, I had to lose some battles.

In my bedroom, stacks of folded clothing decorated the floor in front of my dresser. In the wreckage I found a slouchy gray shirt and black leggings to replace my sleepwear. I hurried to pull my hair into a ponytail, threw on sandals, then headed for our front door.

On the walk to Ms. DeVeau’s, Aidy kept her eyes trained on the ground. She had on black polka-dotted shorts and a black V-neck tucked into the high waistband. Shiny black flats on her feet to tie it all together. Classic as ever. She handled each crack in Albany Lane with graceful high-kneed steps, artful in her avoidance of the many uncertainties in her presence. Like sisters do, we moved in time with one another, even our breathing the same, a soft chest-lifting hum, rising with the incline.

“You’re really excited for camp?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“I thought you hated it the first time.”

“I was young then. I didn’t understand the point.”

“But you do now?”

“Of course,” I lied again.

“Mom and Dad never sent me to camp,” she muttered.

Her words were a match tossed right to the embers inside my belly. “Oh. Did you see someone die too, and I missed it, Aidy?”

“I did, actually, Olivia. I was there too.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t actually see it happen.” She had no idea. No one had any idea.

“I didn’t realize the camp application required actually witnessing the exact instance someone was lost.”

Lost. Of course. “You’re more than welcome to go in my place,” I told her. “Be sure to pack your cutest swimsuits. Don’t eat the meat. Request cabin four. They have the warmest showers. Oh, and rumor has it that it’s rigged and the blue team wins the color war every year.”