by Kelsi Caylor

Created on: July 13, 2009   Last Updated: July 14, 2009

It was the hottest day of summer, and yet I was still frozen like a block of ice in my lavender-walled bedroom. I was packing for the three hour trip to the new summer camp I was staying at for two terribly tragic months. Of course, it wasn't my idea for my short summer; it was my parent's idea. I always stay holed up in my room and I only come out to use the bathroom and eat, according to them. I stayed in my room because I don't get along with my family. Mom and Dad always snip at me when I'm not in my room, so why come out? It made me feel like a flamingo mixed in with a bunch of pigeons! Mom, Dad, and my older brother were preps. I wasn't, I didn't care what I looked like, I wore my clothes too big, and I didn't bother with putting on makeup because it was too hard to get off. The one thing Mom and I fought about the worst was my clothes. She wanted me to dress like a typical suburban kid-high priced fancy clothes, and expensive shoes. I wanted too big t-shirts, hoodies, baggy jeans, and converses. The exact opposite of what she wanted me to be. The girls I despised at school were the ones Mom wanted me to be friends with. One word described all of them: preps. After I had thought about it for a while, I decided I wanted to go to camp. I needed a break from all of these pigeons.

So while I finished packing (which I did extremely slow and careful so as not to forget anything important) I came out of my igloo and took my suitcases to the Suburban. I didn't like the car much more than the fact that my Mom was the one driving me to camp. It was one big box of global warming. I popped my headphones in my ears, turned my ipod up as high as the volume would go, and off we went. after about two hours, Mom yanked my ipod away from me, and I knew she was angry by the look on her face.

"My goodness Janie, why do you listen to that thing every time I take you somewhere?"

Here we go again, I thought.

"Why do you ask me that every time we go somewhere?"

"Excuse me for trying to talk to my only daughter."

Ok, and here comes the guilt trip deal again.

"You're excused. Every time you try to talk to me you're griping at me, so why should I talk to you?"

"Janie, if you would be normal I wouldn't have to."

"Whatever Mom, have you ever thought that you might be the fault in the situation?"

And I took my ipod back. I put both of my headphones in this time. We didn't talk anymore until we finally got to the camp, and I told her bye

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