CHAPTER ONE
Maddie
NOW: JULY
I’ve seen the movies. I know that girls like me never get to be the star. At best, the awkward fat girl plays the sidekick. She gets a funny line or two before fading into the background.
Even so, I like to imagine my life as a film. In my head, I decide on the music, the lighting, the set. I figure out exactly where the camera ought to be positioned and when I will enter the frame.
Of course, if life really followed the Movie Rules, it would have more cinematic scenery. I most certainly would not be stuck in the back of my moms’ car for three straight hours, with only the whooshing of the air conditioner as my soundtrack.
It isn’t great.
“We’re almost at camp, kid,” Sandra tells me.
Note to the director: Sandra is one of my moms. She’s pretty cool, for a mom.
“I can’t wait,” I say. That is only sort of a lie.
I try to keep my voice steady, even though this is the day I’ve been awaiting for months and months. My first day at Camp Rosewood, the only sleepaway camp in Southern California with a screenwriting program.
The very thought makes my legs jittery.
My other mom starts talking, a long and winding monologue about how much she’ll miss me. It soon veers into a lecture on the importance of sunscreen. But I can’t give her my full attention, not now.
In my whole entire life—almost thirteen years—I have never been away from home for more than a week. And even that was just visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Florida. This time, I’ll be all on my own. The very idea is terrifying.
But a good movie hero always leaves home behind to embark on the big adventure. Frodo, Captain Marvel, and now me. I certainly cannot—I will not—let my nerves get in the way.
Besides, I need to escape Pasadena. If I had the choice, I would transfer to a new school entirely for eighth grade. Since the moms have made it clear that isn’t going to happen, I’ll take a month away from home, away from everyone I know.
I lean back in my seat. If I were in a movie, now would be the perfect time for a Moment of Introspection—you know, one of those scenes where the main character gazes out the window with a deep, thoughtful frown. I try to imagine myself at camp. One by one, the scenes unfold in my mind. They’re a little fuzzy around the edges at first, but gradually the images sharpen. I see myself reclining by the lakeside as I scribble brilliant words in my notebook. I see my screenwriting teacher beam at me while I share my work with the rest of the group. I see myself onstage, ready to begin a performance. My costume fits perfectly, and I know exactly what I need to do. The main lights dim, and then I—
What? No, that scene isn’t right at all. I’m a screenwriter, not a performer. I won’t be performing a single thing at Camp Rosewood.
After all, literally everyone in the whole world knows what happened the last time I was stupid enough to perform onstage. I most certainly will not be repeating that experience. Not this summer, not ever.
No, I am going to Camp Rosewood so I can learn screenwriting. Screenwriting is safe. I am good at it. And maybe—hopefully—I will make a new friend at camp. That all seems very reasonable and doable. Even if my last friend abandoned me right when I needed her the most.
But I refuse to think about her.
“Maddie?” Mom says. She has a habit of interrupting me when I’m in a Moment of Introspection. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Still there, hon?”
Blinking, I try to banish all thoughts of my ex–best friend from my mind. I cross my arms over my chest. “No, actually, I’ve been abducted by aliens who are invading Earth. They took the real me up to their spaceship and replaced me with a robot.”
I once wrote a screenplay that was sort of like that. It was not, sadly, particularly good, but I do like the concept.
“So, you are still there. Got it,” Mom says.
As the car winds through yet another barely there dirt road, I realize that people at camp won’t know who I am. To them, I won’t be weird Maddie Simmons. The girl who ruined the school musical. The girl who went viral for all the wrong reasons. The girl who used to be friends with Chloe Winters. At Camp Rosewood, I can write a new script and leave last year’s humiliations behind.
I will not do anything to ruin my big chance. I will not.
A large wooden sign appears, as if to punctuate my big realization. WELCOME TO CAMP ROSEWOOD, it tells me.
I chew on the edges of my lip and try to banish all of the worries and what-ifs that threaten to invade my mind. Exit bad thoughts.
Text copyright © 2023 by Sarah Pripas-Kapit
Illustrations copyright © 2023 by Sofia Miller
