Fear seized me.

As my parents drove up the last stretch of road to camp the excitement that had become almost a part of me vanished to be replaced by an incredible amount of worries. Did I remember everything? Would I be homesick? Would I have friends? How long would it take me to make friends? I felt as if my air had been cut off. It is the same fear you get on the first day of school. You want to crawl into a corner and sleep, your problems melting away.

My mother turned her head so she could see me out of the corner of her eye. "All right there sweetie?" she asked in a tone of seeming sweetness.

"I'm great. I was just wondering if I would recognize anyone at camp, that's all," I lied. I don't like when I lie, but I didn't like being nervous and I liked complaining about it even less. Besides, even if I was nervous, it was my business. I know my parents weren't sending me here because they wanted me to have a good time. I know they need some "time away from home," as they called it. So they are going to Florida while they stuck their only child in an overnight camp for the whole summer for her first time.

"You're really quiet, what'cha thinkin' about, kiddo?" My father. I know he's doing this to please my mother. He would never abandon me like this if it were up to him.

"I was thinking about my friends at home. Do you think they'll miss me?"

"Of course they will, kid. Don't you think, with all the time you've spent together, you have friends who like you and will miss you?" He sounded upset that I had such little faith.

"I guess."

"You know, honey, if you have such low confidence in yourself you wont make friends," my mother stated.

"Janis! Don't make her even more nervous than she already is!" my father snapped.

Good old Dad. He always stood up for me, even against Mom.

"I was just warning her! You are always taking her side," she spat back.

They usually go on like this. I stared out the window, watching the trees zip by. I wonder how long they would take this time before they realized they were "mature" adults? It didn't matter. They would probably argue with each other until there was nothing left to fight about.

"Huh?" I asked, realizing the last thing spoken was directed towards me.

"I said," my mother repeated with some annoyance, "that you should be more excited. You will make more friends and you will become more independent. It will be a good experience."

"Maybe I don't want to go here! Maybe I want to be home with my friends and my parents! Is that too much to ask? Is it?" so I had finally lost it.

"I won't even respond to that," my mother said with her most dignified voice.

Silence. It stretched over our last minutes in the car. As we rolled up the gravel to the camp field that had been converted into a parking lot for the day, I knew my parents would miss me. They had to, didn't they? They gave birth to me, they lived with me for thirteen years, how could they not miss me?

Now a whole new line of questions entered my mind. Would my parents write? Would they call? Would they remember to pick me up at the end of the summer?

The car door slammed. "We are here honey," my mother exclaimed with some relief. "They already would have brought your stuff up to the bunk. So, we are going to let you meet your bunk mates. Let's say goodbye because you your fathers' and my plane is leaving soon and we need to go. Give us a hug!"

I hugged her dutifully. Then I hugged my father. He tweaked my nose and said "see ya, kiddo." And that was it.

As their car drove away I stared after it. They would remember me, I could tell. They would miss me, wouldn't they?