I look out the window, and see a huge billboard sign that says “WELCOME TO SANTA CRUZ.” I’ve just flown 15 hours from Germany to come to this foreign place. I’m tired, sweaty, and exhausted. All I want to do is collapse on my bed, back in Germany. This place is so different: loud, smelly, and hot. While driving here I saw thousands of trees, called Coast Redwoods. Back in Germany I’m used to trees… being smaller. We hit a red light, and my mom turns her head around to see if I’m asleep. She sees me looking scared and nervous and says, “Ich weiß, dieser Ort ist seltsam und anders, aber wir müssen einfach stark bleiben, okay, Liebling?” (“I know this place is weird and different, but we just need to stay strong okay sweetheart?”) I return her smile as she whispers, “Thank you.”
SCREECH.
It seems like we’ve arrived, I say to myself. I look up to see a small, black house with a grey chimney jutting out at the top. I see tiny windows that are covered in dust and grime. My dad goes inside and talks to the realtor lady who is thrilled that we will be living here. She grins at me, and I take a conscious step back. My mom’s eyes grow wide, and she walks out back to take a look at the garden.
I follow her out and ask, “Mom, is this where we will be staying?” I ask.
“I know this place looks horrid on the outside, but the inside is truly beloved.” she explains.
“Can I go inside?” I ask.
“Yes, your room is upstairs, and I’ll get lunch ready in an hour.”
“OKAY.” I shout, already going through the front gate to get inside this creepy house.
I carefully push open the door, and I’m amazed by what I see when I look inside the house: Centered on the plaster ceiling hangs a crystal chandelier directly above a low coffee table stacked with three hardcover books, while a 65-inch television occupies the adjacent wall. The only words I manage to mutter is, “WOW!” I can’t wait to see what my room looks like! I run up the stairs like an untamed stallion, and am just as amazed with my room. The decorating and the atmosphere all makes me feel like I’m back home. For a brief second, I feel like I belong…
“MAIA, COME DOWN LUNCH IS READY.” I hear my mom call out.
“COMING.” I yell back.
“What are we having?” I ask.
“Schnitzel with potato dumplings.”
“Can I watch TV while eating?”
“Fine, just please don’t drop any food.”
I pick up my food, and sit down near the TV. I turn on my favorite show: Young Sheldon. Over the classic sounds of Sheldon arguing with his parents. I overhear my parents talking about something. The only words I manage to catch are camp and woods. CAMP? WOODS! They know I hate all those activities, especially the “great”outdoors. I couldn’t believe my mom hadn’t told me! My English has improved but I’m still not fluent. I wouldn’t understand anything that’s happening. I NEED to convince my mom to not send me. A few moments later, my mom calls me to talk about “something.” I make my way to the kitchen, and sit down, waiting for the horrible news.
“I know you might have already overheard us talking about this, but we have decided to send you to camp.” My jaws drop, and my face turns pale. This was really happening. I felt like screaming and yelling at the top of my lungs. I was going to a place called Henry Cowell Redwood State Park. It was about a 30 minute drive from here. She also explained that because of her work shifts, she couldn’t watch me, and so camp was an alternative option. I went back upstairs, and crashed onto my bed. I thought about my first day, and how scary it would be. Quickly after, I fell right asleep.
THE NEXT DAY GETTING READY TO GO TO CAMP…
I’m awakened by the sound of grilling, and toasting sounds coming from downstairs. It seems like we’re having a PB & J sandwich. I quickly come downstairs and start eating, I make no connection with my mom whatsoever. I just want this day to end.
“Okay kiddo, time to go!” she calls out. I ran back upstairs to pack my backpack: a water bottle, my sunscreen, a journal, pencils, and a photo of my mom and I. For my suitcase, I pack my clothes and toiletries.
“I’M READY!” I shout, as I slam the car door.
“Off we go.” my mom responds. Upon arriving at camp, I’m welcomed by camp leaders, and a brief handshake from the camp director.
“We’re so glad you could come to Camp Willow this year!” Ms. Portia (the camp director) says. I smile weakly, and wave back to my mom reassuring her that I am checked in.
One of the camp mentors approaches me and says, “Do you want to start unpacking, your camp tent is just ahead.”
“Yes, I was looking for a sign or something, but yeah!”
“Great, just walk down by the lake when you’re done, you’ll be part of the G13 group, and just get to know each other, some of the girls are already down there.” I look down, and see five girls talking and playing near the lake. I tell her I’ll be fine, and head towards my tent. I look up to see a bold sign with an important message:
WELCOME GIRLS GROUP 13! PLEASE LEAVE YOUR BACKPACKS ON THE HANGERS, AND START TO UNPACK YOUR BELONGINGS! NO FOOD ALLOWED IN THE TENT! PLEASE GIVE ALL FOOD TO YOUR CAMP MENTOR!
P.S Dinner will be served at 7:30 P.M.
THANKS,
THE CAMP WILLOW TEAM
Following what they said, I leave my backpack outside, and bring in my suitcase. I empty what I can, and decide to change into a different t-shirt. I apply bug spray, and then sunscreen. At the end, I smell like aloe vera, and look like a white yeti. I zip the tent door and make my way to the lake. From here I can’t make out who is who, but I see a camp leader and a group of at least 5 other girls there. I trudge down the rocky path, avoiding any poison ivy or strange looking plants.
“Hi I’m Bea, your camp counselor, are you Maia?”
“Yes I’m in the G13 tent.”
“Then you are in the right place!”
“We’re just doing a couple of ice-breakers to get to know each other.”
We go around in a circle and say our name, grade, and a fun fact about ourselves. A blond-haired girl goes first, “My name is Lucy, I’m in 7th grade, and a fun fact about me is that I do gymnastics.”
“Hi I’m Alisa! I’m in 8th grade and something most people don’t know about me is that I’ve traveled to almost 25 countries.”
“I go by Sarah, I’m in 7th grade, and I like collecting manga, and anime novels.”
“I’m Jamie, I am in 7th grade, and something you probably don’t know is that I’ve attended this camp since kindergarten.”
“My name is Jessica. I attend the best school in my city, which is Redwoods Middle School, and something you guys couldn’t have guessed was I’m SO rich.”
Finally it’s my turn, “I’m Maia… I’m in 7th grade, and I like to paint and draw.”
“Great, it was so nice learning about all of you, let’s clean up and take our belongings, and freshen up because dinner is in 15 minutes.” I start walking back to the tent, when I feel a hard tap on my shoulder. It’s that Jessica girl again, and she looks like her head might explode.
“LISTEN MIA, NO NEWBIE COMES TO THIS CAMP AND JUST DECLARES THAT THEY ARE BETTER AT ART THAN ME!”
“I never even said that, and also my name is Maia not Mia.”
I don’t care what your name is!” Jessica snapped, stepping directly into my path. A few other campers stopped walking, sensing the immediate shift in temperature. “You think you can just roll up here with your little hobby and steal my spotlight? I’ve won the end-of-summer camp showcase two years in a row.”
“Well, maybe this year you’ll actually have to work for it,” I heard myself say before I could stop the words from leaving my mouth.
A collective “Ooooooh” rippled through the surrounding kids. Jessica’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Fine. Game on, Mia.”
RING! RING! RING!
The dinner bell goes off, and Jessica stomps away, her face hot red. A slight part of me feels good for standing up to her like that but another feels heavy, like I’ve just signed up for too much.
By the time I got back to our tent it was almost time to go, but I managed to grab my daypack in case we decided to do a midnight hike.
PSSSSSST! PSSSSSST! PSSSSSSSST!
Suddenly our whole tent smells of candy canes, and lollipop body spray. There’s only person I could think that would do this: JESSICA PARKS! The door shuts behind her, and she looks just as surprised as I am to see her.
“What are YOU doing here, getting ready to lose the art competition?” she says, as she applies a thick layer of lip gloss. I back away in disgust. Like she’s going to beat me, I’ve done art my whole life, there’s no WAY I’m losing.
“Yeah right, I’m so going to lose to YOU.”
“Of course you will, because I have a…”
“Private art tutor, I know!”
“I can make your life miserable, so watch it!” I can’t believe she said that! I was so mad, I could strangle her. I decided to ignore her, and focus more on the good, which at this time was dinner! We were served spaghetti and meatballs with a choice of salad or yogurt. The food was delicious, and everything tasted amazing. I was just getting ready to pack up when I saw a small but vivid sign that said:
HEY CAMPERS!
DO YOU LOVE DRAWING AND PAINTING! COME SHOWCASE YOUR TALENT! YOU CAN PARTICIPATE IN THE END-OF-SUMMER CAMP ART SHOWCASE! COME TO THE ART ROOM TO APPLY!
I really wanted to beat Jesscia, to show her that I’m BETTER than her at art. I also wanted to win a competition, since I’ve never really participated in any back home. I made up my mind, I’m going to play fair and square and beat Jessica! I start heading towards the art room, but am surprised to see no one inside.
“Hey, come on in. A lot of the people are still eating dinner, so you’re early!” a woman in art clothes says.
“Great, is there an application or something.”
“Yes, it’s right on the table.”
I fill out the application, and hand it to her, and she smiles back.
“We’ll let you know when you can submit your work but for now, you can start thinking about what you want to do,” she says pointing to a messy pile of art supplies including acrylic markers, paints, crayons, and yarn. I quickly know what I want to do, a water color painting. Towering trees, and a green atmosphere full of birds and nature. I want to include everything that screams “GREEN.”
I start with the water colors, layering a smooth layer of pastel green for the grass. I add hints of dark green to add a “realistic touch.” I move on to the trees, which can be a tricky part because you have to add depth and color at the same time. With slow strokes I manage to complete my trees looking elegant and proper. With a smaller paintbrush, I use “sky blue” to add small birds. Their delicate beaks are painted with rage and slight touches of orange. Before I know it, I’m done. I back away to see the final result.
It’s a beautiful combination of the blue sky, with the dark green trees, and the small blue birds. A tear forms in the corner of my eye, and I’m so happy that I did this that I almost can’t believe it!
“If you think THAT is good, then you’re clearly going to be easy to beat!” I don’t even have to turn around to guess who said that. My fists clench, and feel my legs clenching. Why does this girl always bully me! I don’t get what I ever did to that girl, I WAS NEVER mean to her. She’s treated me like dirt, and I’m so sick of it. Everytime she’s around I feel like I’m an outcast, and don’t belong. She’s a popular kid and I’m just… a noob. But something inside me just hurts and I lose control.
“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO MEAN!” I scream.
“WHATEVER, YOU’RE CLEARLY JUST JEALOUS OF M…”
Her hand knocks my water cup, and…
MY PAINTING IS RUINED! A big, black blotch stains my painting. Everything around the spill smudges and makes my painting look more like a black hole than a forest. She stammers, but doesn’t apologize. I stare at my ruined painting with despair.
“I… I didn’t mean…”
Hot tears roll down my cheeks, and onto my shirt. I’m in so much sadness, I can’t speak.
“Maia, I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Well it’s a little late for that.” I say as I wipe my tears.
“I’m still sorry, do you want to… do you want to do a painting with me?” I’m shocked by her question, and honestly I’m a bit puzzled.
“Why? You’ve been a JERK to me ever since I came to this camp!”
“I was just jealous of you, and didn’t want you to win, I was wrong.”
“I know, but I guess we can do a painting together?”
“For sure!”
“Do you uh… want to be fr.. friends?”
“Let’s try that!”
And so from enemy, to frenemy, to friend, Jessica seems to be friendly, and we did submit a really good piece that won first place. We painted abstract art that really showed our feelings and our sense of belonging. I really like my part because I include pastel colors and darker colors to be more inclusive to the sadder emotions.
I’ve learned that I can be different and still belong.
I matter, because I am unique.
THE END!
Works Cited
Perez, Carmen. “Carmen Perez.” American Like Me: Reflections on Life Between Cultures, edited by America Ferrera, Gallery Books, 2018, pp. 65–75.
Polanco, Julio Noboa. “Identity.” Nosotros Anthology: Revista Chicano-Riqueña, Arte Público Press.
Reynolds, Jason. “First-Day Fly.” Black Boy Joy: 17 Stories Celebrating Black Boyhood, edited by Kwame Mbalia, Delacorte Press, 2021.
Valdés, Gina. “Where You From?” Cool Salsa: Bilingual Poems on Growing Up Latino in the United States, edited by Lori M. Carlson, Square Fish, 2013.
Wu, Diane. “Jorts and All.” This American Life, episode 803, “Greetings, People of Earth,” Act Four, 2023.
Yoo, David. “Becoming Henry Lee.” Open Mic: Riffs on Life Between Cultures in Ten Voices, edited by Mitali Perkins, Candlewick Press, 2013, pp. 1–19.
Awesome writing Zahra! Keep it up!! 🙂 👍
Loved it!! Well written.
Love,
Mom 💜
Beautiful….. Continue with more zest!!
Love you
Dadima
Beautiful…… Continue with more zest
Daadima