Since the moms have made it clear that isn’t going to happen, I’ll take a month away from home, away from everyone I know. If I had the choice, I would transfer to a new school entirely for eighth grade. I certainly cannot-I will not-let my nerves get in the way.īesides, I need to escape Pasadena. The very idea is terrifying.īut a good movie hero always leaves home behind to embark on the big adventure. And even that was just visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Florida. In my whole entire life-almost thirteen years-I have never been away from home for more than a week. But I can’t give her my full attention, not now. It soon veers into a lecture on the importance of sunscreen. My other mom starts talking, a long and winding monologue about how much she’ll miss me. My first day at Camp Rosewood, the only sleepaway camp in Southern California with a screenwriting program. I try to keep my voice steady, even though this is the day I’ve been awaiting for months and months. Note to the director: Sandra is one of my moms. “We’re almost at camp, kid,” Sandra tells me. I most certainly would not be stuck in the back of my moms’ car for three straight hours, with only the whooshing of the air conditioner as my soundtrack. Of course, if life really followed the Movie Rules, it would have more cinematic scenery. I figure out exactly where the camera ought to be positioned and when I will enter the frame. In my head, I decide on the music, the lighting, the set. She gets a funny line or two before fading into the background.Įven so, I like to imagine my life as a film. At best, the awkward fat girl plays the sidekick.

I know that girls like me never get to be the star.

Second chance book