The car turns off from the main road and instantly the scenery around us changes. Before, we were passing shops and going over one pothole after the other. Now the only thing in view is a wide gravel driveway lined with willow trees each side, the sun spilling through their lazy branches. It's hard to believe that I've known this short road my whole life, and only now is it filling me with dread.
"This is a really crappy thing you're doing, you know, Mum. I should call social services or something." I frown as our small, beaten-up Fiat slows and pulls into the Drop Off Zone.
The car eases into the closest parking space to the large, wooden entrance of my aunt's summer camp. "Good thing there's no service here then." She smirks as she turns off the engine. Mum has been handling my rebuffs well, but I can see now that she looks just as daunted by this as I do. Maybe I should give her a break, but it's not like she gave me a choice in coming here.
Two small children run past my open window, shrieking with joy. Their parents follow with huge smiles, hands clasped together while pulling two large suitcases with their free hands. It's like a scene from a sickeningly sweet film. I feel myself frown.
Even when I try, I can't summon a memory like this. Just Mum and me. It's not a bad thing, I had a great childhood, but it's easy to feel like I've missed out on something in these moments. Especially when I have no idea just how many daddy/daughter moments I've missed out on. How much better my memories of Mum and me would be if Dad was there too.
We watch the family for a moment before my mother carries on, "You used to be like that you know. Staying here used to make you so happy." She smiles sadly.
It's true, I have some great memories from here, but that was always because Mum was here too. I don't get why I have to be here by myself this year.
While it's exhausting being so horrible about it, a sob story isn't going to change my opinion, sorry Mum. "Yeah, for two weeks, not the whole summer! And for the record, I also like our summer road trips, our hiking, our ice cream nights." I sigh, pulling on my woven straw hat just to hide my face. I won't cry in front of Mum, I can't.
"Oh hunny, I know you really wanted to go on a road trip this year, and I did too, but I just can't afford to take that time off work. And your aunt could really do with the help since your uncle Frank left and your cousins went to university."
I laugh, I knew it wouldn't be long before she played the other guilt card. "Last time I checked university students get summer holidays too." I fold my arms, showing no signs of weakness.
"They're getting older, they want to be out with their friends."
I roll my eyes at her careless hinting and turn to face her. It's time for my guilt card. "Mum, I know you desperately want me to be some kind of a 'normal' teenager. But I love our Saturday nights in front of the TV, watching our favourite chick-flick with a huge tub of ice-cream, huddled beneath a blanket. You're my best friend, Mum." I smile and let my words sink in for a few seconds. Mum smiles too, but I know I haven't changed her mind. I definitely get my stubbornness from her.
"I just thought we'd be together this summer, even if we weren't travelling, I still want to be with you, Mum. Especially on the -" Before I can finish, her arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me closer.
I hear her draw in a breath before her shaky voice whispers in my ear, "I know, hunny, I know. But this summer I just want you to have a good time." She pulls away and gives me a weary smile. "I don't want you cooped up in the house all day, waiting for me. I want you to have a summer full of great memories, and I don't want you to think about the anniversary at all. You deserve a good summer."
"Mum -" my voice comes out quieter than I expect it to. I know she isn't trying to get rid of me, but she is forcing me out of my comfort zone.
"No more arguing, Cassie, you're here for the summer. Go be a teenager, hunny," she says, ending the conversation abruptly by shoving open her door.
That went well, I huff and pull on my backpack before stepping out of the car solemnly. I'd like to point out that I don't know any teenagers my age who spend their summer working at their aunt's camp, but I sense Mum is at the end of her tether with my excuses, so I drop it and accept my fate.
I know I'm being dramatic, but who wants to spend a whole summer trying to keep control of easily excitable kids?
"Try to cheer up for your aunt, Cassie. You never know, this could be the summer you never forget." Mum smiles as she grabs my suitcase from the boot of the car.
As the sun catches her I see how old she is, well not old, but I see what the toll of raising a child by herself has done. Her wavy black bob is looser and more tired looking than when I was younger, and her hazel eyes don't seem as bright as I remember. But the most obvious change is her smile; I've never seen her smile as big as she did in the photos of us all before the accident.
Guilt bubbles inside of me. I'm being too harsh. Maybe mum just wants one summer alone, maybe she needs to mourn this year by herself. God, I suck; I do love it here, or what I remember, and being out of the house all summer won't kill me, I guess.
But, this is definitely not going to be my summer, or the summer something memorable and so amazing that someone makes a film about it happens. It's just summer. And I'm just Cassie.
"Ew, yuck, pass me the sick bucket." But I smile all the same, I don't need to add myself to the list of things for Mum to worry about over this summer.
"That's the spirit." She chuckles as she pulls me in for another hug. I wrap my arms around my mother's thinning waist, squeezing her so tightly I think she might pop.
"Claire! Cassie!"
"Jen!" My mother's smile brightens as I turn to face my eccentric aunt.
She is the spitting image of Mum, except her hair is the length of her back, and braided. Her bright pink camp shirt is partly covered by a sleeveless cream cardigan and paired with denim three-quarter lengths. Her lips are caped in thick pink lipstick to match her top and her straw hat is bigger than it needs to be. But these are all the things I love about my aunt, and in fairness, somehow the whole commotion takes ten years off her, managing to make her look like the younger sister.
Jen wraps her arms around us and squeals in delight. "I'm so glad you want to stay for the whole summer, Cassie."
"Me too, Aunt Jen." I smile back, maybe even meaning it a little.
"Why don't you let your mum and me take your bags to the cabin while you go and have a look around the camp, Cass."
I shrug an OK, getting the hint that they need to have a 'grown-up' talk. I'm not exactly a kid anymore, but then again, I'd rather walk around here than listen to them discuss their current life situations.
I head off towards the tall wooden beams joined in the middle by a carved sign. I've never asked why Jen called this place Little Willow Family Camp, I've always just assumed it was because of the willow trees which line the path up to camp. Plus the one that sits outside Jen's cabin, which has failed to grow past seven foot for unknown reasons.
As I walk under the towering sign I'm instantly hit by the fresh smell of the lake. Memories of every single summer I've had here flash across my mind like a slide show.
When I was younger, my mother and I always used to spend the first two weeks of the summer here. Mum would help my aunt and uncle get the camp ready for the families arriving throughout the six weeks. And I spent the time following my older cousins around. They didn't appreciate it, but at the time the only other children here were with their families so Ellie and Caleb were sort of stuck with me.
My favourite week here was when I was seven and my grandparents stayed too, they were much more fun to be around than my cousins. Grandpa was set on teaching us a new trick every day, even though Grandma told him every morning we weren't dogs.
I can still do most of the things he taught me, mainly on whims though.
Walking up the gravel path, I take a detour through the droopy trees, choosing to avoid other people for as long as I can. I push past the light branches of the willows until I can barely hear the excitable giggles and squeals over the gentle lapping of the lake.
It's the calm before the storm; these last moments before going into the commotion of the camp.
There are a few children already splashing about in the mouth of the lake; we call it 'the beach' because that's what it reminds us of. I spot Joe, the lifeguard, smiling out to the open lake, music blasting from his boom box style stereo. It's old and cheesy, but it suits Joe, and the camp, like a T.
Joe's first summer here, four or five years ago now, he started training me during the quiet times on the beach. One morning he decided to pretend he was drowning way too dramatically for me to handle. I just stood there laughing for five minutes. I definitely would have failed an exam. But it's still one of my favourite memories.
I smile, remembering how great Camp Little Willow is. God, I can't believe how I acted earlier. A summer here won't be so bad.
I hope.
I mean, I am meant to be a camp counsellor, something that Jen only introduced two summers ago, when she decided to change from solely family holidays to a kid's camp as well. I have a vague idea of what it encounters, but honestly, it's a little daunting. I know it's going to have its highs and lows, I just hope it's more good than bad.
I consider going over to talk to Joe, but I don't want to risk being seen by my aunt or mum and lose these last moments of tranquillity for the summer, so I keep my feet planted on the small footpath by the edge of the lake.
I pick a smooth pebble from the shore and launch it out to the lake. It skips three times before plopping into the water. One of the skills I can still use on a whim. Grandpa and I spent the whole day on the beach, he was adamant that I would be the grandchild to pick up the skill since Ellie just wanted to sunbathe, and Caleb enjoyed being in the lake more than throwing stones at it.
I wish my grandparents could be here this summer, they have the same zest for life my aunt does, and I could use my Grandma's words of wisdom right about now. But, they retired a few years ago and moved to Florida.
I smile, thinking about my grandfather skipping rocks on a hot beach while my grandmother reads her Gardening Weekly magazine. She probably can't plant most of it in her villa garden, but she started reading them when my aunt asked her to do some landscaping for the camp, and she hasn't been seen without one since.
I walk down the path a little further and sit in a sunnier spot, satisfied. I pull my book from my bag, this seems like a good a place as any to get in some reading time, I don't think I'll be getting much more of it this summer. I find the last page I read and unfold the dog eared corner, but before I can start reading something falls out of the tree above me and into the lake, splashing me with ice cold water.
I bolt up and yelp. The lake is much colder than I remember it being.
"Crap, I'm so sorry!" The body groans as it pulls itself up from the water, emerging as a boy who must be around my age. He rubs his head before grinning. "I'm Crash."
"No kidding," I reply dryly as I watch the ink of my book bleed until the letters are unreadable. "That's actually your name?" I quiz.
"Yep." He smiles way too proudly for someone who just fell out of a tree and is now standing in water up to his calves, soaking wet. "Well, it's James but I er-"
"Crash into a lot of things?" I raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Basically." He shrugs, running his hand through his ringing wet dirty blonde hair.
"So what were you doing in a tree if you're prone to crashes, isn't that a bit careless?" I challenge.
"It's worse if I try to be careful, so why miss all the fun?" Crash replies, sticking his tongue out at me.
Great, another kid to look out for.
"I didn't realise hanging out of a tree was that fun."
"It is. Just don't fall out, 'cos that kinda hurts." I smirk and he laughs. "Sorry about your book."
"That's OK. I've read it a dozen times," I pause before swinging my bag onto my back. "And just for future reference, if you're in a tree and I sit under it, a word of warning would be nice."
"Well, maybe you should look at a tree before you sit under it. You never know what's going to be up there." I mean, that technically makes sense. Crash smirks, pulling his shirt away from his body and letting it ping back with a squelch.
"Touché. Come on, let's go find you a towel." I smile, heading towards the centre of the camp. "Which cabin are you in?"
"C four," he replies, wading out of the water.
"Wait, you're a counsellor here?"
"At your service, madam." He bows playfully, laughing to himself. It makes me wonder who else my aunt is employing. "Who are you here with then?" He asks as we pass the beach and near the main area of camp.
"I'm a counsellor too." I smile weakly. His face drops like it's weird that I'm a counsellor.
"But you're so boring." He frowns. I try not to take it to heart, he doesn't know me. But still, boring isn't really the vibe I want to give new people.
"Jen's my aunt," I reply bluntly, watching as his cheeks redden.
"Oh, right. I didn't mean like, boring boring. Just boring," he stutters
"Gee thanks," I reply dryly as we enter the Counsellor Camp indicated by a wooden Counsellors ONLY! sign.
This area used to be the family camping site, and it feels weird to see eight cabins fill the area that used to have all manner of tents in it. There are small groups of other teenagers hugging and fist bumping, probably discussing their year away from each other. Am I going to be the only newbie? Oh, God that would just make it even harder to fit in.
"So you've been here before then?" Crash asks as we head towards the far end of the counsellor's area.
"I've stayed a lot before, but I've never been a counsellor." I glance at Crash as we make our way up the steps to his cabin, he's grinning wildly. I'm not entirely sure why I've come this far but I guess Crash is, sort of, intriguing company.
"Well, you're in for a fun summer then." He laughs, pushing open the wooden door.
I'm met by the laughter of Crash's cabin mates. One of them, with soft looking honey-brown hair and a natural tan, sits on the top bunk facing the door, swinging his legs. He seems so familiar, but I have no idea why.
The other boy looks a year or two younger as he struggles to get his bedsheet across his mattress beside the door. He runs his hand through his thick brown afro and then collapses against the bed, giving up as the cover pings back around him.
"Hey! Who'd have thought Crash would be the first to bring a girl back to the cabin." The first boy grins, jumping down from his bunk as I step into the cabin behind Crash.
I roll my eyes. Boys.
"What can I say, the ladies dig me." He smirks, throwing his arm around me.
I flinch and glare at him. "Yeah, there's just something so attractive about a boy who can fall out of a tree," I reply dryly, knocking his arm from my shoulder.
"She's funny. Where'd you find her?" The first boy asks, tossing Crash a new shirt and towel.
Oh, good, boring was not the first impression he got of me.
"He fell head over heels for me, right into the lake," I tell them.
Crash pulls off his soaking wet shirt and throws it back, smacking the guy right in the face. I turn my gaze away from Crash's bare chest and admire the wooden wall behind their three dressers instead.
From the corner of my eye, the guy peels the shirt off his face before using it to whip Crash with. "Yeah, that sounds like Crash. I'm Robbie."
I'm definitely in a boys cabin and I'm not sure how much more cliché it can get, but I don't want to stay to find out. "Cassie. I should really go now I've managed to escort Crash back without another disaster." I smile uncomfortably, turning back to the trio.
"Little does she know bringing him back is the disaster," the younger boy adds, his mattress squeaking as he sits up.
"Your words hurt me, Josh. Like, right in the heart." Crash feigns a sob.
"Where's your cabin, Cassie?" Robbie asks as I pull open the door, letting in a stream of sunlight.
"Um, I don't know yet. Jen's still talking to my mum, but I guess around here somewhere since I'm a counsellor too." I smile nervously.
"Well, I guess we'll see you at mess time then."
"Yeah, see you," I reply, making my way out of the cabin. Well, that was exhausting.
I walk gladly down their steps, stopping when I see Mum and Jen entering the cabin opposite. Great. Just great. I haul myself across the dry ground and up the steps to, supposedly, my cabin.
"Oh, Cassie, you found us." Jen grins as she props my suitcase against one of two beds.
"Yeah, I saw you come in here. Do I have the cabin to myself?" I ask naïvely, pulling off my hat and tossing it onto a bed.
"No, dear, your cabin mate will be here soon. Lovely girl, I'm sure you two will get along," Jen says as she opens one of the windows, letting in a cool breeze. "I'll let you unpack, but before mess time come and pick some counsellor shirts and your folder up from my office."
"Sure," I reply, propping my backpack up beside my hat.
"Great. See you later. And Claire, I'll see you at the end of summer."
"Yeah. I'll see if I can swing it with my boss for the last week off." My mother smiles and hugs her sister. I've always wondered what it would be like if I had a sibling. But, I can't let my mind wander like that for too long without it reminding me of the reason I don't have any.
"You're staying for a week?" I question as soon as the door swings shut behind Jen.
"Well, maybe. If I can get the time of work then why not? It'll be like old times." My mother smiles and folds a top up before popping it in the chest of drawers at the end of my bed.
"Uh-huh," I reply, un-convinced.
"Oh you're not still in a strop are you?" My mother sighs, almost slamming the drawer shut.
"No, I've come round, don't worry about me."
"I told you." She smirks, throwing a pillowcase at me.
"Yeah, yeah." I stick my tongue out and toss her three summer dresses to put away, but instead, she tosses them back and it isn't long before we're throwing clothes back and forth until we're both on the floor, laughing so hard we can barely breathe.
"Oh, Cassie, I don't think I've laughed so hard in a long time." My mother sequels, her chocolate eyes watering.
"Me either, Mum," I gasp back, clutching my sides.
"I hate to leave, but I want to be back before Harley tears the house up waiting for his walk."
My smile wavers slightly. I've spent every day of my life with my mum, and even though I'm seventeen, being without her for so long is going to be weird.
"OK then, but you have to help me tidy up before you go," I reply, getting to my feet and picking up a few items from the dull wooden floor.
She laughs and helps with the scattering of clothes. "I think you're going to be just fine here, hunny, ordering kids around." My mother ruffles my hair patronisingly, messing up my fringe.
"Mum!" I jump back and run my hands through my wavy black hair, pulling at the knots she created.
"Oops, sorry darling. It looks fine now, stop fussing with it." She picks up her handbag and heads towards the door. "Bye, Cassie." She smiles, planting a kiss on my cheek.
"Bye, Mum. Give Harley a big hug from me."
"I will. Have a good summer. Sorry again for cancelling the road trip." Her smile turns sad and her eyes glaze over, it's definitely not a good idea to press the subject.
"Oh, it's fine, Mum, honestly. I understand." I smile, trying to convince her.
"OK. I love you, darling."
"I love you too, Mum, now go before Aunt Jen ropes you into anything."
My mother laughs, her smile becoming cheerier. She waves as she descends the creaky steps. I watch her fades into the distance and try not to think about this being the longest six weeks of my life.
All around my cabin excited teenagers are still sat around, chatting. I could go out there and get to know the people I'll be spending the whole summer with. I could get my name known. I could make friends. Instead, I let the door swing shut and retreat to my unmade bed.