Three Weeks Later
Three weeks passed quickly.
When I finally drove to the camp to pick her up, I expected to see the same shy girl I’d dropped off.
Instead, Mia came running toward the car.
She was tanned from the summer sun.
Her hair was messy.
Her clothes were covered with the evidence of three weeks outdoors.
And she looked happier than I’d seen her in months.
She was wearing a handmade bracelet decorated with colorful threads and tiny wooden beads.
She started talking before she’d even reached the car.
“Dad! You won’t believe what happened with the horses—”
Then I saw the camp director walking toward us.
Her name was Denise.
She wasn’t smiling.
“Can I speak with you privately?” she asked.
My stomach tightened.
“Of course.”
I followed her a few steps away from Mia.
Then she said something I never expected to hear.
“Mia won’t be welcome back next summer.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She isn’t welcome back.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t process the words.
My daughter had spent three weeks at the camp she’d dreamed about since she was ten years old.
And now the director was telling me she couldn’t return.
“Why?”
Denise hesitated.
Then she said:
“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 terrible that sounded.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
She sighed.
“I mean children who behave the way Mia has been behaving.”
That made even less sense.
“What did she do?”
Denise pointed toward the dining hall.
“Nothing bad.”
I frowned.
“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.”
