The Summer at Camazotz

Eight

"Carter! I can't find my shirt!" Ethan shouts from the other room.

I quickly tug a light blue sweater over my head as I push through the door to my room and head into the boys' room.

Ethan is tossing clothes over his shoulder as he digs through his suitcase. There are about seven different piles of clothes that get mixed in with other kids' piles as the boys run around the room looking for whatever they need.

"Ethan, hey," I say, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll help you, alright? But you have to clean up this mess."

Ethan's eyes are big with worry, but he quickly evens out his breathing, gives me a nod, and proceeds to pick up the clothes strewn across the floor.

"Hey, that goes for the rest of you, too," I say as I face the other boys. "No messy cabin, remember?"

A few groans are elicited, but the boys start cleaning up the messes they've made.

"I'll be right back, okay Ethan?"

"Okay. But hurry! I really like this shirt."

I smile. "I'll be quick, don't worry."

I head back to my room to grab my camp phone from the nightstand. As I grab it from the drawer and put it in my pocket, I hear a faint ringing from the other side of the bed. I walk around it and rummage through my duffel bag until the ringing becomes clearer and my phone is in my hand. A picture of Mom in front of the Rocky Mountains flashes across the screen accompanied by the contact name: Mom.

I groan and run a hand through my hair.

We only have a few minutes left to waste before we have to run out of the cabin to be on time for the movie. I contemplate ignoring the call and texting her later, but if I do she might be freaked out even more than she probably is right now.

I clear my throat and accept the call. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby, comment ça va?" After all the time we've spent here in BC, her accent is still clear as day.

"Bien," I say. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Carter. I want to know if you are okay."

I sigh. "Mom, je suis, je suis. I told you it would be you that freaked out."

"I'm sorry that I'm concerned about my child who is hours away from me in the middle of nowhere. And you don't call me every day." I can practically see the accusing look she's probably giving me on the other end of the phone.

"I told you I would be busy all day with the kids. You know this isn't exactly a vacation, right?"

"Carter."

"Mom."

I swear my mom's memory fails her when it comes to me and Winston. I tell her everything she needs to know about something and she forgets it within an hour and starts to worry. I'm surprised she's lasted more than a day.

She sighs. "Are you having fun?"

"So far, yeah."

"You make any friends?"

My lips tug up and I nod even though she can't see me. "Yeah, I did."

But of course my mom can't help herself and she has to ask about each friend and what they're like. She did the same with Patrick and Ruth and Jason and pretty much everyone I meet. She always has to know who's who and at least one defining trait or point about each of them in case she ever runs into them.