My mom’s Cutlass rolls into the dusty parking space, and lets out a hiss of relief as she kills the engine. The hood of the car begins to steam up, creating a cloud around us. “Mom, is the car supposed to catch on fire when it stops?” I ask with a hint of sarcasm.
“Four hours from Delaware to Pennsylvania is a lot of work for old Heather” explains my mom, who is referring to the car she received as a high school graduation gift from my grandmother who died before I knew her. My mom feels that getting rid of the car would be getting rid of her mother’s memory, but I think it’s time for an upgrade. “And don’t be rude young lady, Heather is not on fire,” she snaps. With much effort, I push open the heavy door and step outside into the warm summer air. I’m greeted immediately by the scent of grilled burgers and the laughter of children, and I scowl towards both. I am a vegetarian, and I do not want to be a counselor at this summer camp. My mom says this is where she ‘found her love for children’ when she was my age, and signed me up without my consent. I still don’t understand why my mother would drive four hours for me to be a counselor for one week, but her sentimental actions would have something to do with it. The place looks fun though I must admit, as I take in my new home for the next 7 days. Cabins are lined up over by the woods, and a beach surrounds a huge lake in the distance.
“Amanda, let’s double check that you have all of your forms befo-”
“I have everything,” I snap, cutting off my mom. I pull my bags out of the car, and slam the door, rocking the old piece of junk back and forth. I begin to make my way down towards the camp where I see the counselor sign in table, when my mom yells my name.
“Amanda!”
“Yes, mom,” I groan, turning to see her getting out of the car.
“I love you,” she says, holding her arms out showing that she would like to hug her 17 year old daughter in public. I nod my head, and turn back to camp.


There is a man in his mid-forties who is behind the table, and I approach the sign-in. “Hello!” he says cheerfully. “Welcome to Camp Lakewood! What’s your name?”
“Amanda Harper,” I respond, handing him my forms.
He checks my name off a list, and hands me a pink whistle. “This is yours,” he says, as if it were the most precious item I could ever own. He then began to explain a bunch of things about meal times and activities, but I wasn’t listening. To the left of the lake was a giant rock climbing wall in the shape of an L, and ziplines through the woods. Canoes are set up by the edge of the beach, and I notice a small island in the middle of the lake. “Ok, Amanda?” inquires the man, snapping me out of my daze. “You understand what I said?”
“Yeah,” I answer nonchalantly, and head deeper into the camp site whistling quietly on my pink plastic whistle.
It is a gorgeous day in July. The sun gleams down covering the ground in warmth, and the sky is bright blue. The grass dances as the warm summer wind blows through the campsite. Birds sing as they fly over the camp, and a group of young girls chase them down giggling with glee. One of them leaps into the air spreading her arms out so she too could fly like the birds, and lands in the grass while the other girls continue running.
It then occurs to me that I have no idea where I am going, until I see another girl about my age with a pink whistle. She walks into a cabin with a large pink sign next to it, and I run after her. The cabin is one large room with many bunk beds. She sets her bags down on a bed with a paper taped on the head board that read ‘Julia Rubin’, and above her’s is a bed with my name on it. Great, I think, I’m on the top bunk. My fear of heights is not going to cooperate with these beds. I approach the small closet and disseminate the contents of my suitcase to find something preferable to wear. I find an old softball t-shirt and slip it over my bathing suit while shoving the suitcase into the closet. The other girl folds her clothes into neat piles and sprays them with Channel Number 5. She turns around after quite an awkward silence between us. “Hi!” she yells. “I’m Julia!” Julia has thick, curly blonde hair and the body of a Barbie doll. She has huge blue eyes and long skinny legs. She is the exact opposite of me: Short, thin brown hair, and slightly on the heavier side.
“I’m Amanda. Looks like we are bunkmates!” I announce.
“Yay!” she says, jumping up and down, her blonde curls bouncing. “I think lunch is in a few minutes, we can walk down together!” she declares.
“Well, I don’t know anyone else yet so why not,” I reply, realizing how rude I just sounded.
“Ok!” she squeals, pulling me out of the cabin towards the dining hall. The entire way across the campground, Julia went on about how she went to camp at Lakewood when she was younger, and has been a councilor for 4 years. I am relieved when we finally reach the dining hall so I can escape the overload of perfume from Julia’s tan skin.
The dining hall is the biggest building on site and the only air conditioned one as well. The cafeteria is lined with long tables, and in the front of the room is a line going into the kitchen for food. I take a tray, and head on line. The kitchen is huge, and quite complex for a small summer camp. Large ovens cook pizzas, while hot dogs and burgers sizzle on the grills. I take some pasta, and continue on my way. I’ll go back to my cabin and eat, nobody will notice. I start for the door, when I hear my name shouted across the hall. “Amanda! Where’re ya going? You just got here!” It was the voice of the man from the sign-in. He waves me over to a table with all of the other councilors, with different color whistles around their necks. Sighing, I walk over towards the man, and sit down across from him. “I never got the chance to properly introduce myself,” he explains. “I’m Daniel, but you can call me Dan. I’m the director of Lakewood,” he states proudly. Dan is the largest human I have ever seen. His shoulders are gigantic, and he takes up two seats on the bench. He examins my food, then asks, “No burger?”
“No, I’m a vegetarian,” I respond.
“Thats ok!” he states, chomping on his burger. “My daughter never liked burgers either,” explains Dan with a mouthful of meat. The word ‘liked’ struck me.
“What do you mean by ‘liked’?” I ask. The color from Dan’s face vanishes, and he sets his burger down on his plate. He dazes off for a few moments, as if recalling a distant memory, but then looks deep into my eyes.
“My daughter died two years ago,” he replies. “Brain tumor.”
There is a moment of stillness between us, and even though the dining hall is filled with yells and laughter, I feel as if Dan and I are in a different space of complete silence.
“I’m so sorry,” I explain. “I didn’t know or I wouldn’t hav-”
“Dont sweat it,” he answers quickly. “She was only 8 years old when she died. She was extremely shy, but once you broke her shell, she blossomed you know?” I nod. “She loved animals, and always drew pictures of them for me,” he explains smiling. The way Dan talks about his daughter fills me with happiness, and takes away from the fact that she died so innocently.
“What else did she like?” I ask to fill in the following silence.
“She loved the Disney Princesses. When we went to the ocean once,” he begins, smiling back on the memory, “she thought that she was like the mermaid, even when all of her hair fell out from the treatments she received. She played in the ocean, and it was the happiest memory I had with her.” Suddenly a bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. I haven’t touched my food, but I’ve suddenly lost interest in eating.

I receive a list of my campers an hour later, and all are accounted for. Julia and I are in charge of the 8 through 10 year old girls. They all have way too much energy for my liking, but Julia is just as hyper as the kids. “Ok, girls! Let’s go to the lake!” she announces, creating a mob of children running to the lake behind her. Even though I’ve been swimming since the age of 2, the lake looks to have the cleanliness of a city dump, so I decide to stay behind. I don’t understand why, but a feeling of uneasiness settles over me, as I feel the urge to look down. I look down, expecting to see nothing, but find a tiny girl standing at my side. This girl was not here before, I was sure of it. She only stands up to my hip, and has thick fiery red hair and deep green eyes. “Well hello! I think you might have the wrong group because I don’t see you on my list,” I explain in a voice soft enough so that she would understand. The girl doesn’t respond, and stands next to me swinging her arms back and forth. “What’s your name, sweetie?” I inquire.
“Elizabeth,” she replies softly, her eyes looking dead into my own. “But you can call me Lizzie.”
“Ok Lizzie, how old are you?”
She stop swinging her arms, and looks off at the lake as if she is trying to remember her age. “Eight,” she finally replies.
“I’m Amanda, Lizzie, and there must be some mistake. I’ll add your name to my list.” I scribble down her name, and she starts to swing her tiny arms again. “So, do you want to go swimming in the lake?” I ask the small girl.
“No!” she answers immediately with a shout. She glares at the lake, as if she had gotten into a fight with it before. “It’s dangerous,” she explains.
‘No it isn’t!” I laugh, but Lizzie doesn’t find me to be humorous at all.
“One time, I tried to swim to the island in the middle of it,” she explains, pointing a tiny little finger in the direction of the island. “My dad told me not to because I wouldn’t have the strength to reach it, and I didn’t listen.”

For the rest of the afternoon into evening, Lizzie and I decide to make a sand castle instead of swimming with the rest of the group. Our work is quite impressive, and she tops it off with a leaf that she sticks on top of the castle.
“What an amazing castle!” I announce as we look at our work. “If only it had a princess.”
“I have one!” exclaims Lizzie, who digs into her pocket and pulls out a tiny plastic doll that looks like the Little Mermaid. Although, this doll has one thing different than Ariel: her long red hair is gone. There are small pieces of hair left on her plastic head, but the doll’s hair looks like it was purposely cut off. Lizzie digs her thumb into the side of the castle, and sticks the little doll inside the newly made window.
“Where is her hair?” I ask Lizzie. She glares at me.
“She had cancer,” Lizzie explains, as if the doll has a real life.

Later that night at dinner, I make my way over to the councilors’ table when I notice Lizzie sitting alone at a small table in the corner of the room. She’s working hard on drawing a picture, and is surrounded with Crayola markers. I feel bad that she sits alone, so I decide to sit with her for this meal.
“Hi, Lizzie!” I say as I walk up to her.
“Hello, Amanda,” she whispers.
“What are you working on?” I ask, peering over her shoulder at a large brown blob on the page.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks as if it were clear as day. “It’s a dog!” she screams, showing me her drawing. The large brown dog has a speech bubble coming out of his mouth where Lizzie wrote ‘woof’.
“I see it now! What a work of art!” I proclaim. She smiles at my compliment, her little white teeth glowing. My stomach growls in emptiness, and Lizzie seems to hear it. “I’m going to get some food.” I explain, and walk away from the little girl. I bring back what appears to be Chinese food, but pick out the chunks of chicken. Lizzie is still sitting alone, and has started another drawing. I set my food down next to her, and sit down. She examines my food like Dan did earlier today, then asks, “why is all of the chicken over there?” pointing at the pile of chicken that I had moved to the edge of my plate.
“I’m a vegetarian, so I don’t eat chicken,” I explain.
“So am I! I hate meat!” she shouts, happy to have something in common with me.
“Really?” I laugh. “We have a lot in common then!”
Lizzie looks up from her drawing then whispers, “Yes, yes we do.” I don’t know what else this little girl thinks she has in common with me, but the loudspeaker calls me to the front office before I can ask.
“I’ll be right back, Lizzie. Ok?” I explain. She nods her head without looking up from her drawing, so I walk across the cafeteria towards the front of the building.

A man in the office holds a phone in his hand, and motions me over. “It’s your mother,” he explains, handing the phone over to me.
“Amanda? Amanda, honey can you hear me?” speaks the voice of my mom through the phone.
“Yes mom, I can hear you,” I respond rolling my eyes. This was going to be one of those ‘checking in’ calls, with no real emergency. She always does this to me. Why doesn’t she think I’m ok?
“How’s it going?” she asks.
“How’s it going? That’s why you called? I’m trying to work here, Mom. Stop calling me!” I snap.
“I just wanted to hear your voice,” she says softly.
“Why are you always like this,” I ask. “Why do you always hover over me every waking minute of my life? Do you think I’m not old enough to handle a job of my own?” I question.
“Amanda, you just don’t understand what it feels like for me,” she answers.
“I know what it is! You have to have complete control over me! I can’t leave the house without you yelling ‘do you have everything?’ or ‘don’t forget that!’” I rave.
There is a pause. And I hear her tearing up on the other end.
“I didn’t have a mom, Amanda when I was your age,” she explains. “There was never anyone there to help me, with my Dad too involved with his business. I just thought that I could help you.”
“Well you thought wrong! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” I yell, and I slam the phone down with a bang! I didn’t expect such a response from myself, and regret everything I said as soon as the call drops. I pick up the phone in hope that she is still there, but the beeping of the phone confirms that she is gone. I forget that the man is still sitting next to me at his desk, but he acts like he didn’t hear the whole yelling match. I storm out of the office, and push open the front doors for some fresh air.

I need to be alone. The best place I could think of was the island in the middle of the lake, where few could actually swim so far to reach me. I’ve always been a great swimmer, so getting there would be no problem. The sky is a deep black, and stars are sprinkled over it, shining over the woods as I run out to the water, taking my t-shirt off. My bathing suit is still under my clothes from this morning, so I dive into the lake. My arms whip through the water, pushing my way through the thickness of the lake. The water is frigid, which sends chills throughout my body. I reach the deep spot of the lake, which had to be about fifty feet deep. The island’s sand is warm even at night, and I lay down gasping for air. Looking up at the stars, I remember what Lizzie said to me about her drawing of the night sky; how they remind her of her freckles on her face. I pictured the hundreds of little dots on her pale face, when suddenly I see her looking down on me and I jump to my feet. “Lizzie!” I scream, “How did you get here?” I wondered. Actually, how on Earth did she get here? There is no possible way that she could have swam so far, and I don’t see a boat anywhere. Lizzie just looks at me, and the stillness between us suggests an idea. An idea so twisted and strange yet it made perfect sense. This little girl who stood before me, appeared on this island so suddenly, and her clothes were bone dry. “You aren’t real.” The words came out of my mouth before I had to chance to taste them. Lizzie looks at me, and smiles her little teeth at me. My hands start shaking, and even if I want to run I can’t. My legs and arms become heavy, and I feel like the ground has fallen underneath me. I am in complete shock. Although was scared out of my mind, she is still the fragile little Lizzie I know, so I must collect myself.
“Please, don’t be afraid,” she coos, understanding the complete horror I am experiencing. “I need you to tell my dad that I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“What?”
“My dad. He used to always tell me not to do certain things, and I should have listened to him. I should have known he was doing everything out of love and protection. The whole time I thought that he was controlling the short time I had on this Earth, with my brain tumor of course. I need you to tell him that sorry, so I can finally be at peace,” Lizzie explains.
“Who is your dad?” I ask, as the realization hits me. Lizzie drew pictures of animals for me, hated eating meat. I know quite well who Lizzie’s father is.
“I think you already know,” she explains with a smile. “I thought that the Little Mermaid doll would blow my cover, but it seems like you haven’t figured that out either,” she states. I remember the tiny plastic doll she stuck inside our sandcastle, the one with the red hair cut off from her head. Then it hits me. Dan told me that his daughter loved the Little Mermaid, and pretended to be her at the beach.
“That doll is you,” I whisper. She smiles, satisfied that I finally figured out her little trick. “You wanted to cut off Ariel’s red hair so she would look like you. Your hair must have fallen out after your cancer treatment. But then why do you have red hair now?” I ask.
“I didn’t like having no hair. No cancer kid ever does. So now I can have it back.”
I still have a hard time comprehending this whole thing. Is this just a joke? Im the new councilor, and the old ones are playing a trick on me. But no matter what situation I create in my head, I know that this is reality.
“I don’t mean to frighten you, Amanda. In fact, you remind me a lot of myself when I was still alive. I’ll let you go now.” Lizzie turns to walk away, but so many questions are rattling around my head that I need to ask.
“Lizzie,” I begin, “How did you die?”
“Two years ago, it was the night of the last day of camp. Everyone had gone home, and I was helping my dad clean up. We started arguing. I don’t even remember what it was about, he probably told me not to clean the knives in the kitchen or something. I got mad, and I needed to do something to prove myself. I wanted to be strong. That night, I tried to swim to this island. He had told me never to try it alone, but I needed to before my cancer got to me. Like he said, it was too much for me to handle, and I nearly drowned,” explains Lizzie.
“So you died here?” I ask, even more frightened than before.
“Keep up, Amanda!” she says smiling. I almost laugh. “I said I nearly drowned. My dad found me on this island, and rushed me to the hospital. I recovered from swallowing too much water, but my brain tumor had dangerously grown larger. I died in the hospital that week.” Everything made sense now.
“Why me? Why would you follow me around and not your dad?”
“Well, first, if my father saw his dead daughter following him around the camp, that might not be such a good thing. Also, like I said, you remind me a lot of myself when I was still alive. You have the same problem that I did with my dad,”
I think back to the things that Lizzie could have heard, then I remember the phone call with my mom that occurred not an hour ago. “So you heard the phone call,” I assume.
“Yes, and I thought to myself ‘why not stop this girl from making the same mistake that I made’. I knew that you would be so grateful for me helping you realize that your mom is just trying to look out for you, that you would maybe do a favor for me,” Lizzie states.
She spoke with such experience, well beyond the mind of an eight year old. Never before had I felt such a connection to a person before. She might be dead, and only eight years old, but Lizzie was the most wonderful human being I had ever met.
“But, I can’t tell your dad that his daughter’s ghost came to me. What should I say to him?”
I ask. Suddenly, my name is shouted across the lake. I look behind me, and see Dan rowing his boat towards the island.
“I don’t want him to see me,” Lizzie explains, as she turns to run away.
“Lizzie!” I yell, not even knowing the reason why. I just wanted to keep talking to her.
“Yes.” She turns around one final time.
“Thank you,” I respond, looking out at the tiny girl in front of me.
“No,” she replies smiling. “Thank you, Amanda.” She waves to me, before disappearing before me into the stars. I realize then that my question wasn’t answered, but knowing Lizzie, she probably wanted me to figure it out for myself.

Dan reaches the island in the boat, and by the look in his eyes he’s not happy.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he yells. “Everyone has been looking for you for the past hour! What were you thinking coming here at this time? Get in the boat!” he screams. Lizzie was right about the over protectiveness. “You can’t be out here!” he yells, paddling towards the mainland.
“OK!” I yell. I needed to let out energy because the most exhilarating experience of my life had just occured, and sadly my only living friend Dan was the one who I can take it out on. “Why are you so protective? Would Lizzie like you yelling at her?” I cover my mouth in shock of the words that just came out. He stops rowing and turns to look at me. I can’t believe I just mentioned Lizzie in front of him.
“What did you say?” he asks in a voice that sends chills through my skin. “How do you know my daughter’s name? You don’t know anything about my Lizzie! How dare you even bring her into this!”
“Somebody told me” I lie. His eyes begin to tear up. I’ve never seen a grown man cry before, and I know that I have to clean up the mess I just made. All I had to do was tell him everything that happened on the island tonight. Everything except talking to Lizzie. “I don’t know your daughter. But I do know myself, and I do know my mom. My mom is just like you: overprotective. Up until tonight, I thought that she was babying me, like I couldn’t do anything on my own. But, as I laid down on that island, I started to think.” Dan looked genuinely interested in what I had to say. “I realized that my mom was doing all of the things she did through love. She loved me so much that she wanted to make sure I was safe. Lizzie might have been 8 when she died, but maybe she might have known that all along.” He doesn’t respond the entire way back to the campsite, but when he reached the shore he says, “You are right, Amanda. I’m not sure how, but you are right. But now I know this: My Lizzie is safe now. She’s safe from any type of cancer or danger that could get to her, and I’m so happy because of that.” He crosses the beach towards the dining hall, leaving me with my thoughts.


The rest of the week went by extremely quickly. I was upset to see that Lizzie didn’t come back to talk to me for the rest of the week, until remembered what she had told me on the island. She could not be at peace until Dan knew that she was safe. As of the night of the island, he told me himself that he knew she was safe from the cancer. So, Lizzie was finally safe. She was finally at peace.


The final day of camp, I return to the spot where Lizzie and I had built the sand castle with my suitcase. It was slightly beaten up, but the tiny doll still stood where Lizzie had placed it. I put the doll in my pocket, and head off for the parking lot. There was hugging everywhere. Kids hugging parents hello. Kids hugging kids goodbye. Councilors hugging each other goodbye. There was one person I wanted to hug, and I find her standing by the old Cutlass in the front of the lot. I remember our last conversation, the screaming match. We look at each other for a few moments until she holds out her arms. I run to my mom, and drop my suitcase as I fly into her arms.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too,” she sniffles. She lets go of me and says, “Let’s go home.” My mom circles around the car, and steps into the front seat. The sun is extremely bright, so I grab my sun glasses out of my bag. As I’m about to put them on, I hear my name shouted.
“Amanda!” It’s Dan. He waves to me from the campsite, a huge smile on his face. I wave back smiling, and I remember that the little doll is still in my pocket. I reach into my pocket, taking out the tiny hairless doll. I grip onto her tightly, suddenly knowing what I have to do. I motion to my mom that I need to go down to the campsite, and she nods. I run down the small hill to Dan. I look right at him, and place the little doll in his hand.
“Where did you get this?” he asks in shock, clearly knowing what it is.
“I found it on the island. I think you know who it belongs to,” I say softly, folding his hand over the doll. He looks right at me, speechless. “I have to go. Somebody very important is waiting for me,” I explain, and I spin around and run back to the car. The car has a cloud of smoke around it as I enter the front seat, and my mom has a look of embarrassment about her. “Good ol’ Heather!” I kid, and she laughs loudly.
“Oh, so now you like her!” says my mom nudging my arm.
“Are you kidding?” I say as I put my mom’s hand into mine. “I’ve always liked her.”
I’ll never forget what happened at this small summer camp. I take one last glance at the camp under the bright sun. I pull my glasses out of my bag once again so that I could see the camp one last time this summer. So, I put on my glasses, looked out over the lake, and my life was never the same again.