“Do you see your dad?” Lando asked me. My stomach churned at the idea of my dad being part of the mocking crowd, but I looked carefully as we walked by them. It was almost a relief that he wasn’t there. “Hey, kids, you’re at the wrong camp!” someone called from the keg. The product of strict and attentive parents, Cece was momentarily frozen in place by the sound of adult disapproval. To her, rules were rules, even when set in place by strangers at an adult summer camp. But we had practiced for this. “Go home to your jobs!” I shouted back at them.
