Free Ten by Lauren Myracle

anything.
    â€œAll right,” Mom said. I heard the jangle of keys. “I’m leaving. I hope you decide to come with me, because otherwise, you’re on your own.”
    â€œFine,” I said.
    â€œAnd I’ll be taking the cost of the nonrefundable camp tuition out of your bank account,” she added. “The camp that you begged me to sign you up for, I might add!”
    I heard her open the back door. I heard her shut the back door. Then I heard nothing.
    â€œOh, mustard,” I cursed, scrambling for my boots. “Wait! I’m coming, sheesh!”
    I sat in the backseat of the car even though I was allowed to sit up front when Sandra wasn’t along.
    But today I didn’t want to. Today I fastened my seat belt, tucked my legs beneath me, and curled up next to the door. I wished I were anywhere but here, being forced to go to Wilderness Survival Camp ALL BY MYSELF for an entire week. It wasn’t sleepover camp, so I’d get to go home at the end of each day. But, still. Mom didn’t understand that the only reason I’d begged to be signed up was because Amanda and I would be going to camp together . Surviving in the woods? Eating hot dogs and possibly even worms, if we ran out of food and it was either eat worms or starve? What could be more awesome?
    Then Amanda backed out, and her mom, unlike mine, said, “Sure, honey, go right ahead.” And why? So she could go to cheerleading camp instead! Grrrr .
    â€œWinnie, you’re going to be fine,” Mom said when we pulled up to the camp drop-off. We’d ridden in silence, me with my arms crossed over my chest the whole time and my head turned determinedly away. “You’re going to be more than fine. You’re going to have fun , honey.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “Not without Amanda.”
    Mom laughed, which made me even madder. She was laughing at my pain!
    â€œYou don’t even care, do you?” I said.
    â€œWinnie,” Mom said, unbuckling and twisting in her seat. She put her hand on my leg. I jerked away. She stretched farther and put her hand on my leg again, and, so, fine. I left it there.
    â€œI do care, and I’m sorry I laughed. I wasn’t laughing at you, though.”
    â€œOh, were you laughing with me?” I said sarcastically. “I wasn’t laughing, in case you didn’t notice.”
    She squeezed my knee. “Let me try again. Maybe I was laughing at you, but I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and if I did, I apologize. I was laughing because Winnie, you make friends more easily than anyone I’ve ever met.”
    I sideways-looked at her. “I do?”
    â€œYou don’t need Amanda to have a good time,” she said. “Amanda is wonderful. I love Amanda.”
    â€œSo do I,” I said.
    â€œBut her dropping out of camp shouldn’t ruin it for you. And I know it won’t—that’s why I laughed.”
    I glowered at her, but it was a somewhat less glowery glower than it could have been. It was a glower that meant Hmmph. I might forgive you, but only because I’m so nice.
    â€œWhat if no one talks to me?” I said.
    â€œThen you talk to them,” she said. She didn’t laugh, choosing this time to tease me by being overly serious. “Now, I know being chatty is hard for you—”
    â€œMo-o-o-m . ”
    â€œAnd I know you’re very shy—”
    â€œMo-o-o-m!”
    â€œBut just try, sweetie. And if, for whatever reason, you can’t get past your paralyzing fear of telling jokes, being silly, and doing monkey impressions—”
    â€œI don’t do monkey impressions,” I said, giggling despite myself. Then I mooed, and I sounded exactly like a cow, because I did do an excellent cow impression. “That’s the interrupting cow , Mom. Sheesh.”
    â€œRight. Of course. But my point is the same: If you find yourself without any cows to