In early summer, Mommy gets a part-time job at the local library, and she decides that sending me away to camp is the best way for me to spend my time. She wants me to 'learn independence' and 'make new friends.' Maggie tells me that Mommy just wants me to play with more girls instead of hanging around with boys all the time. She watches me on days when Mommy works, and in two weeks I am going away.

"But what's wrong with playing with your brothers?"

"Nothing really, but it's always nice to have friends that are girls, too."

"But they're my best friends."

"I know they are, Gracie, but things change when you get older. Maybe your mom is just trying to protect you." I take what she says to heart and try to think of things that Mommy tries to protect me from. The only thing I come up with is the water. I need to learn how to swim, and I know just how to do it.

"I'm scared, Chris," I say from the swings as we watch Ian hanging upside-down from the climber.

"Why?"

"I'm going to be away from home and I don't know how to swim. What if I'm the only one?" I say pointedly. "I don't want to look like a baby in front of the other girls."

"We'll teach you," Chris says with a shrug. "Daddy taught us in the pool, it can't be that hard."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, right Ian?"

"Yep," he says, flipping on to his feet. "When do we start?"

Every day Mommy works, we spend time in the pool. For as much as Chris is usually the more patient twin, Ian is the better teacher, always challenging me. Both of them are careful to make sure I am safe, staying by my side and grabbing me when I look like I need help. Maggie keeps an eye on us from the loungers while she talks on her phone, just in case.

"Look at me!" I yell as I swim across the pool, doggie-paddling. "I'm doing it!"

"I knew you could!" Ian shouts his support, arms raised.

"Way to go!" Chris cheers.

By the end of the two weeks and six lessons I am ready to go to camp. I can swim under water and jump in the deep end, as well as tread water. We play games of Marco Polo, and it's fantastic, the water swishing around me as I float and kick. As far as I'm concerned, the twins are amazing, but it's bittersweet because I'm going to be gone for two whole weeks. By the time I get home, they will already be away for their camping trip with their dad. Chris and Ian promise to be back in time for my birthday, though.

Both of them see me off while Mommy and Daddy pack the car with my suitcases.

"We'll miss you, Gracie," Chris tells me, then he and Ian pull me into a group hug.

"We'll leave you a present for when you get back," Ian whispers softly in my ear, "start at the treehouse."

I break free from their embrace and climb into the car, buckling up. "I'll bring you presents," I call and wave as we roll down the driveway.

The boys wave back, and I watch until I can't see them any more.

Our time without Grace when we were young was time without our center. She was the one that was the peacemaker, keeping us from fighting, and making us better. Those two weeks were spent either planning a surprise for Grace or fighting each other. My mom was too happy to ship us off with Dad.

Camp is great. After Mommy and Daddy decided I was going, they chose a horseback riding camp because I still liked ponies, even though I stopped asking for one a few years ago. They drive me for a few hours south and drop me off amidst a pile of girls ranging in age from seven to ten at the head office building. There is a paddock with a bunch of horses running around and some other buildings off to the side. Our luggage is loaded onto a flatbed attached to the back of a tractor, and we follow it over to a collection of buildings centred around a common area with benches and a firepit.

A councillor divides us up based on our ages, and there are six other seven year olds in my group and our councillor, Alison. She is older than Maggie, but not as old as Mommy, and is tall with a big red braid of hair that trails all the way down her back. She greets us all and is really friendly, then takes us to our beds to 'store our gear.' Our cabin is larger than the others, a squat L shaped building amongst a few other tin roofed buildings. One side of the L is our cabin, cabin eight, the centre of the L is the bathrooms and showers, and the other side of the L is cabin nine. There are worn wooden floors with dim windows and metal framed bunkbeds inside our bunk, with one door leading to the bathrooms, and the other leading out towards the firepit area.

We have a swimming test the first day after settling into our bunks so that the camp can determine how safe we are down by the lake. I am so proud that I learned to swim before coming that I practically prance down to the lake with the rest of my bunk mates.

"You don't have to do it, Grace," Alison tells me. "Your parents have indicated that you are a non-swimmer."

"But I can swim, I learned how. Can I please do it, too?" I plead. I really want to swim with the other girls, rather than look like a big baby on the dock.

"Sure," she says with a sunny smile, and I grin right back at her.

I pass my swim test and get a nice blue bracelet that means I can swim with buddies during free time if I want. I am thrilled that the twins taught me something and that my parents don't know. It's a really cool secret and feels like I have something from them with me.

The rhythm of camp is a comfort, even though I miss home. We have riding in the morning, letting the horses rest during the hottest part of the day. I learn how to groom and care for a horse, including mucking out their stables. In the afternoons, we do swimming and crafts, and sometimes we go for hikes. When the weather is nice, we do trail rides after dinner in the long warm early evenings. Before bed we often roast marshmallows and sing songs. The food at camp isn't great, but it's plentiful and all the exercise gives me a huge appetite. I'm sure I've gotten taller and more muscular.

I really like the girls in my cabin, and get really friendly with a few of them, but none of them live near me, so it's a friendship of a few weeks, not years, so I miss Chris and Ian. During arts and crafts time, I work hard to complete presents for everyone I miss at home. Mommy and Daddy are getting something, as well as all four of the people who live next door.

After two weeks of campfires, mucking out stables and trail rides, it is time to leave. As much as I enjoyed my time here, I can't wait to go home on the off chance the twins are still there. I missed them like I missed a limb; it's not necessary for life but makes things a lot better. I wait anxiously for my parents car back at the administration building where they dropped me off with my cabin mates. I can't wait to show the boys how I learned to dive and tell them all about doing jumps on my horse. My handmade gifts are safely wrapped, waiting to be given to those I missed.

Car after car pulls in, picking up girls. The happy reunions with family members is getting to be very unnerving the longer I wait for my parents to arrive. After what seems like forever, I am the last girl waiting. Campers are supposed to be picked up before lunch, but it's after two o'clock already. Every car that drives by on the rural highway that careening past the camp makes me stand in nervous expectation. I don't know what I did to make my parents not want me, but it's pretty obvious to me, especially from watching the other parents pick up their daughters, that I'm not what they want. I can't imagine my mom embracing me the way the other mothers grab and hug their daughters. The thought of it pricks at my eyelids and jabs at my heart.

"Are you hungry, Grace?" asks Micky, the councillor who is assigned to wait with me. She normally works in the barn, and I know she's irritated that she's not back tending to the horses or eating her own lunch. I feel really bad that she has to wait here when there are better things she could be doing.

"No, thank you, I'll have something to eat when I get home," I tell her, like I am sure my parents are actually coming. In truth, I am not sure at all. It might be a lot easier for Mommy in a quiet house. Maybe they were in a car accident because they were so eager to get me, but that doesn't seem likely. At least I know if they forget me, someone from the Reeds might notice and save me.

Finally, at two thirty, only three hours late, our car slowly turns into the drive. My mom is clutching the wheel as if her life depended on it, and Daddy is nowhere to be seen. I stand, wearily, excitement spent hours ago. Now I am just tired and cranky.

"Hi Mommy." I greet her flatly.

"Grace." Her expression is equally unenthusiastic. No embraces, no hugs, no kisses. I think this is probably a day she wouldn't normally be out of bed.

"Hi Mrs. Yardley, were you detained?" I'm pretty sure Micky is asking nicely why she is so late.

Mommy struggles to comprehend the question for a second. "Yes, there was...car trouble," Mommy lies. I mean, I can tell she's lying. Mickey helps my mom load my suitcase into the trunk, I think she's keen to be rid of me.

"Thank you for waiting with me, Micky, it was really nice of you." I quickly tell Micky giving her a little hug in hopes that Mommy will realize at least one of her mistakes. Instead, Mommy just sinks limply back into the seat and starts the car.

"Come on, Grace, we have a long drive ahead." She refuses to acknowledge my hint, so rather than look like a fool, I scramble into the backseat and we drive off in a cloud of dust.

"Where's Daddy?" Why didn't he come to get me?

"Well that didn't take long," she snaps at me and I'm not sure what I've done.

"What do you mean?" I demand. I am not in the mood to humour her.

"Where's Daddy? Where's Matt?" She says in a mimicking voice. "That's all anyone ever wants."

"I just meant..." Why shouldn't I ask for him? I haven't seen him in two weeks.

"I know what you meant." Her anger seems to fade and her voice takes on a tone of resignation, "He needed to do something for work, he had a meeting with a grad student."

"Oh."

"Look, Grace, we both missed you, he was just busy that's all." The sincerity in her voice is lacking, but I'll take what I can get.

"Okay."

"Did you have a good time? Tell me all about it." She is making an effort, so I try, too. And so, for the next two hours I fill in all the empty space in the car with stories of the past two weeks, trying to make Mommy happy.