Don't Leave Me.

One.

Waking up to 110 degree heat is horrible. But, waking up to it and knowing in a few hours you'll be in a blissful 89 degree weather is beyond perfect.

I woke up, the bay window to my room was open and let in the desert heat I hated. I groggily got up and closed it, the air-conditioner kicked in and a wave of cold air hugged me.

I grabbed my outfit I laid out last night, skinny jeans with tears in them, a white tank top, my black boots and a denim baseball cap.

"Scarlett!" My mother called. "Are you up yet?"

"Just got up!" I called back to her. I quickly got ready and curled my hair. I grabbed my suitcase that had been packed for at least a week and ran out to my mom's Ford truck.

I tossed the suitcase in the bed and hopped into the cab. I smiled at myself in the rear-view mirror and fixed my bangs, then slipped my headphones on and clicked on Pandora, my usual Country station played proudly.

My name is Scarlett Jones. I'm fifteen with brown hair, blonde highlights, and big blue eyes. I stand somewhere around five foot seven and live in a small farming community not a lot of people know about.

I'm going to this camp a friend introduced me to, it's called Pali Overnight Adventures. It's seriously the coolest place I've ever heard of. I've seen the web sight and session videos, and after days, weeks, and months of begging, I got my mom to let me go for two weeks.

She seemed kind of into it, since I usually just wanted to stay home and ride horses all the time. I didn't have too many friends, and my social life paid for it.

I fell asleep on the car ride, and woke up three hours later at the camp gates. A smiling blonde wearing a camp shirt smiled at me and asked how many bags I'd brought with me.

"Uh, three, my suitcase, guitar, and backpack." I said.

"Oh, you're in Rock Star then?"

"Yeah," Rock Star was the specialty I was going to be in. I had a passion for music and played guitar. I tried to push Country music into the world as much as I could, seeing as it's the only thing I listen to. In a two-week session at Pali, I got to play music, get tips on writing songs, record a song, make a music video, and preform in front of everyone at the end of each week.

I was so excited. This was going to be awesome. My mom pulled up into the camp and a swarm of butterflies attacked my stomach. There were as many people here as my high school. I hated big crowds and adored solitude. My friend left out how many campers would be here.

"Just to remind you," my mom started, "you're in cabin eighteen. Have a good week!" She hugged me as a councilor pulled my suitcase from the bed of the truck, he took it to my cabin and pointed me where to sign in.

With my guitar in hand, and bag slung on my shoulder, I took a deep breath and went to the white circus tent to check in and meet one of my cabin counselors.