Live While We're Young

Chapter 13: Camp

Carly: Camp was coming up fast. I suddenly found myself second guessing the decision to go to the two week camp. I was starting to realize the time I was going to have without Niki. What would it be like, next year, when she came back and had been at college all year. Would she be different?

I didn’t know whether or not to voice my problems to Niki. I sat on her bed, two days before I was due to leave. I was going to miss two weeks of hanging out with one of my closest friends. We were spending the night tonight.

“Niki,” I said, twirling a strand of the blond hair I had yet to get used to.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, as usual. Her hair had bubble gum pink in it today.

“Will you still be the same after college?” I blurted.

“Well, um, I guess there’s no saying,” Niki said, “I’m sure I’ll be more grown up, but so will you. Why?”

“Well, I’m just nervous. I feel bad going to camp and blowing a lot of the time left with you,” I said, biting my thumb nail. Then Niki did something I didn’t expect. She laughed.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” I said, feeling foolish all the sudden.

“Listen sweetheart. I feel awesome that you would think about that, but you would be incredibly stupid not to go to that camp this year. You got the bunk and stuff you wanted, you got in. If you didn’t go I would burn every single one of your drawings and snap every pencil you own,” Niki said.

“Jeeze, you don’t have to be mean,” I said.

“I’m not trying to be,” Niki said, “But don’t worry about me.” I nodded.

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Two days later I was riding in the backseat of my parents’ BMW on my way to camp. I couldn’t help the excitement I felt. I was on my way to the camp I had wanted to go to since I knew what a camp was. It was a long drive, but I sketched the entire time. I was so happy.

I reached the camp at 3:00, just as everyone else seemed to be pulling up. My dad and mom got out to help me carry my stuff and get me checked in. “Carly Horan,” my dad said to the woman sitting at the table. She gawked, not exactly going her job.

“Out of curiousity, are you…?” she trailed off.

“Am I?” my dad asked. He hated blatantly saying he was Niall Horan.

“Niall Horan?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “Can we check Carly in please?”

“Of course of course,” the woman said. She pulled off a form.

“This is something you have to sign. Just a simple emergency form,” she said, meanwhile making googly eyes at my dad. I wanted to gag.

“Okay,” my mom said, clearly thinking the same as me. I coughed to cover a laugh.

“And you must be Maggie Nelly,” the woman said bug eyed.

“That’s me,” my mom said, keeping her eyes on the page she was filling out.

“Wow,” she said. Her eyes fell on me. “You realize how famous your parents are right.”

I tried not to be rude when I said, “General public reminds me on a daily basis.”

The woman smiled. I smiled back and focused on the way my mom wrote on the page. While I had taken years to perfect a perfect, artful penmanship, my mother had a slightly sped skrawl. She had had years of autograph signing while walking down the red carpet. Her handwriting was sharper than mine. Mine I wanted to be loopy and almost cursive looking. My mothers looked sharper, along with a few of the letters running together in a beautiful way. It reminded me of how a star should write.