I touch my charm bracelet, giving it a quick twirl. “I want to stay in Dogwood.”

The same cabin I stayed in fifteen years ago.

Although Franny says nothing, I know what she’s thinking. Her expression shifts as quickly as the sunlight glinting off the lake, revealing confusion, then understanding, then, finally, pride.

“Are you certain you want to do that?”

I’m not even sure I want to be here at all. Yet I give a firm nod, trying to convince not only Franny but also myself. At least Franny buys it, because she turns to Lottie and says, “Please arrange it so that Emma can stay in Dogwood.” To me, she says, “You’re either very brave or very foolish, Emma. I can’t decide which one it is.”

I can’t, either. I suppose that, just by being here, I’m a little bit of both.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

As the sound of my parents’ Volvo faded into the creaking, chirping night, I learned two things—that Francesca Harris-White was rich beyond words, and that she had the stare of a movie star.

The rich part was only mildly intimidating. Obscene wealth was on display everywhere in our Upper West Side neighborhood. But Franny’s stare? That stopped me cold.

It was intense. Those green eyes of hers latched on to me like twin spotlights, illuminating me, studying me. Yet hers wasn’t a cruel stare. There was warmth in her gaze. A gentle curiosity. I couldn’t remember the last time my parents looked at me that way, and it made me all too happy to stand completely still and let her take me in.

“I must admit, dear, I have absolutely no idea where to put you,” Franny said, breaking her stare to turn to Lottie, who stood directly behind her. “Is there any room left in a cabin reserved for our junior campers?”

“They’re all full,” Lottie replied. “Three campers and one counselor in each. The only open spot is in a senior cabin. We could move one of the counselors there, but that might not go over too well. It will also leave a junior cabin unsupervised.”

“Which I’m reluctant to do,” Franny said. “What’s the open cabin?”

“Dogwood.”

Franny turned that green-eyed gaze back to me, smiling. “Then Dogwood it shall be. Lottie, be a dear and fetch Theo to take Miss Davis’s bags.”

Lottie vanished into the massive house behind us. A minute later, a young man emerged. Dressed in baggy shorts and a tight T-shirt, he had sleepy eyes and tousled brown hair. On his feet were flip-flops that clapped against the ground as he approached.

“Theo, this is Emma Davis, our latecomer,” Franny told him. “She’s headed to Dogwood.”

Now it was my turn to stare, for Theo was unlike any boy I had ever seen. Not cute, like Nolan Cunningham. Handsome. With wide brown eyes, a prominent nose, a slightly crooked smile that slanted when he said, “Hey, latecomer. Welcome to Camp Nightingale. Let’s get you to your cabin.”

Franny bid me good-night as I followed Theo deeper into the camp, my heart beating so hard I feared he could hear it. I knew part of it was apprehension about being in an unknown place with unknown people. But another reason for my madly thrumming heart was Theo himself. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked a few paces ahead of me. I studied him the same way Franny had studied me, my gaze locked on his tall frame, the long, steady stride of his legs, the spread of his back and shoulders under his threadbare shirt. His biceps bulged as he carried my suitcase. No boy I knew had arms like that.

It didn’t hurt that he was friendly, calling over his shoulder to ask me where I was from, what music I liked, if I had been to camp before. My answers were weak, barely audible over my pounding heart. My nervousness clearly showed, for when we reached the cabin, Theo turned and said, “Don’t be nervous. You’ll love it here.”

He rapped on the door, prompting a response from inside. “Who is it?”

“Theo. Are you awake and decent?”

“Awake, yes,” the same voice replied. “Decent, never.”

Theo handed me the suitcase and gave an encouraging nod. “Go on in. And remember, their bark is worse than their bite.”

He walked away, flip-flops clopping, as I turned the doorknob and stepped inside. The cabin’s interior was dim, lit only by a lantern placed beside a window opposite the door. In that golden half-light, I saw two sets of bunk beds and three girls occupying them.

“I’m Vivian,” announced the one sprawled on the top bunk to my right. She gestured to the bunk directly across from her. “That’s Allison. Below is Natalie.”

“Hi,” I said, clutching my suitcase just inside the cabin, too frightened to enter farther.

“Your trunk is by the door,” said the girl identified as Natalie, all wide cheeks and formidable chin. “You can put your clothes there.”

“Thanks.”

I opened the hickory trunk and started transferring all my frantically purchased clothes into it. Everything except my nightgown, which I kept out before sliding the suitcase under the bed.

Vivian slipped from the top bunk in a cropped T-shirt and a pair of panties, her exposure making me even more self-conscious as I stripped off my clothes under the protection of the nightgown.

“You’re a little young. Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?” She turned to the others in the cabin, both still ensconced in their bunks. “Isn’t there a cabin for babies we can send her to?”