Her face was tanned.
She looked exhausted and happier than I’d seen her in months.
She started talking before she had even reached the car.
“Dad, you won’t believe what happened with the horses—”
Then Denise, the camp director, approached me.
She didn’t smile.
“Can I speak with you privately?”
My stomach tightened.
“Sure.”
I followed her several steps away from Mia.
Then she said:
“Mia won’t be welcome back next summer.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She isn’t welcome back.”
For a moment, I couldn’t process it.
My daughter had just spent three weeks at the camp she’d dreamed about since she was ten, and the director was telling me she couldn’t return.
“Why?”
Denise hesitated.
“I don’t want kids like her here paying that kind of money.”
My expression changed immediately
“What exactly do you mean by ‘kids like her’?”
Denise realized how badly she’d phrased it.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I mean children who behave the way Mia has been behaving.”
That answer confused me even more.
“What did she do?”
Denise pointed toward the dining hall.
“Nothing bad.”
That somehow made it worse.
“She hasn’t broken rules. She hasn’t bullied anyone. She hasn’t caused trouble.”
“Then why are you banning her?”
Denise took a breath.
“Because she thinks she has to earn her place here.”
The Chore Chart
She showed me a clipboard.
There was a rotating chore chart for the campers.
Sweeping.
