Lavinia, a lone wolf, keeps to herself. Needless to say, she hates when her fertility specialist father sends her to Camp Redwood during the summer of 1984. As going-on's occur, she discovers truths about the woods around the camp, as well as a dark...
The last part of this story, this is told in the first person from Lavinia's perspective.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue:
So, I went back to New York City with my mom that fateful summer in 1984. I still kept in touch with Brooke and Chet, because they got married four years later. Xavier, on the other hand, I saw him on the front of TV Guide in 1986, so I guess he was doing well for the time. After what happened at Camp Redwood and then the night I had to put that big dog down, we did not keep in touch as much. No-brainer for Rita, or should I say Donna Chambers. I know she is still alive, though.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My mom was actually okay to me for the remainder of my teenage years – she was more well-off than my dad, even though he was a specialist and made about as much. Now, I understood her more, knowing she fled in order to survive and that it had nothing to do with me. I was sent to an all-girl's school, Brearly, which I was okay with. I hated being forced into a skirt, but at least I could say my education was top of the line. I was really good at languages, I did Latin and Russian at the same time. I also did lacrosse. Heck, before my great-uncles Vlad and Peter retired from owning their delicatessen, I was able to practice with them. People thought I was a bit nuts because I chose Russian, I even got a bit of light teasing like being called a "Russian spy", but I laughed it off. I was at a point in my life where none of that shit would bother me anymore.
I also was at a point in my life where I could explore who I was. Men always repulsed me, and I did not know why until I met Amelia Schuman. If you've seen Brooke Shields, she kind of looked like her – long, soft brown hair, always wore a fluffy hairbow tied at the top of her bangs, her hair sprayed so much that it made her tresses stand up. It was the only form of self-expression for us at Brearly. I didn't follow suit. I just wore a ponytail; my hair had gotten long enough. I had this attraction to Amelia, I guess. It was mutual, I'd say.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She was one of three friends I made there. I met them all in the bathroom the third day of school, where they were passing out cigarettes to each other and decided to include me. That was one habit I picked up. The other girls were Leticia Coolidge, one of the only three black girls in the entire school, and Lydia Atkins, a girl with a subtle gothic style who idolized Souxsie from the Banshees. I guess I fit in well with them, but sometimes I felt like Amelia saw herself as "too good" for our little posse. She was a goody-two-shoes, her father happened to work under my mom in the same place, so we saw each other the most outside of school. I saw so much in her that I'd rather keep to myself, but it is too good to not share – she was closeted, I could tell. I had been, too, but I didn't really know much about what being a lesbian meant. We are still in touch every so often. She confided in me one afternoon junior year when we decided to meet in the girl's bathroom for a cigarette during fourth period.
