“Jackie … Jackie McKendry, wake up!”

The words short-circuited my dream and the images of winning goals and cheering crowds came skidding to a stop. I mumbled something about summer vacation and pulled the pillow over my head.

Apparently ‘the voice’ didn’t like my attitude and began shaking my shoulder.

“You didn’t set the alarm. Remember what day it is!”

Suddenly it hit me. My eyes flew open to find Mom standing over me looking mighty annoyed. I tried to avoid her stare, glancing instead to the calendar above my desk where a big red star marked the day. A smile crossed my face. I had been waiting all summer – the first day of field hockey camp!

I felt a rush of adrenaline kick me into high gear and began to snatch up the clothes laid out so carefully the night before. I guess it was a sign to my mom that I was up ‘for real.’ She left the room shaking her head, probably wondering if I was ready to go to an overnight camp if I couldn’t even remember to set an alarm clock.

I could see my excitement as I wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror. But as I leaned closer I noticed something else. It was nerves. This was a camp for high school teams, and it wasn’t just us sophomores from Northfield High that were going. Our school’s upperclassmen would be there, too, and these were the girls that had put us through a dangerous hazing when we were freshman. I wondered if the older girls hated us as much as they seemed to a year ago.

“Jackie, get moving! We should have been at the twins’ house by now,” Mom called, referring to my two best buds who were going to camp with me.

I quickly put thoughts of upperclassmen behind me and scrounged around in a drawer for a ponytail holder. Securing my wild curls up into a short knot on top of my head, I peered into the mirror and frowned. I knew I needed to wear my hair up for camp, but it made me look so young — like that baby Pebbles from the Flintstones cartoons.

I wondered for a moment if the coaches at camp would take one look at me and tell me I should go play in the sandbox and not try to mix it up with the big girls.

* * *
My parents were waiting as I slid into the back seat of the car. I didn’t even get a chance to bite into my breakfast bar before my mom turned around wearing one of those parent faces that snare you with their silent intensity. Adults must stand in front of the mirror and practice those looks for hours before they’re even allowed to have children. This was my mom’s ‘you do have everything, don’t you?’ face. I nodded and crossed my fingers, just in case.

My dad had barely put the car into park when I leaped out and raced up the steps to the Hanson twins’ house.

“You pumped, or what?” I asked when Jules Hanson answered the door.

She laughed. “Come on in. Tori’s still getting dressed. She doesn’t exactly pop right up in the morning.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caused me to turn. It was Jules’ twin, making her not-so-grand entrance. Her eyes were like slits and her hair spilled out of her ponytail in a dozen different directions.

“Maybe going to this camp is not the way to start sophomore year,” Tori grumbled. “I just want to go back to bed,” she said as she collapsed onto the bottom step.

Jules rolled her eyes, like, ‘how can we possibly be related?’ Tori caught it and told her to cut it out. I grinned at their bickering. As usual it didn’t amount to much. Whenever things did heat up between the twins, they never forced me to take sides. This made being their friend a heck of a lot easier.

While I was fair and on the small side, the twins had their mother’s dark, Italian coloring and their father’s height. Some of our friends could get intimidated by them ‘cause the twins had a real take-charge attitude. Once you met their parents you could see why. Their dad was this hotshot basketball coach at St. Benedict’s Prep and Mrs. Hanson owned her own consulting business. But none of that stuff bothered me and I considered myself darn lucky the day they moved to town.

The twins were still going at it, so I went back outside only to have my mom jump on me as soon as she saw me coming out the door.

“Jackie, make sure you have everything out of the back of the car,” she said, as she looked up from her conversation with my dad and Mr. Hanson.

To pacify her I pulled out my crumpled ‘to pack’ list from my back pocket and gave the car one more look. I waved the paper like I had it all under control and saw her mouth kind of tighten up.

I guess she wasn’t impressed. To be fair, I was a real goof-ball, almost muffing my whole hockey career last year forgetting stuff. Still, my mom should have realized I was all grown up, making lists for everything now. Mothers were probably the last to know how mature you really were.

My parents gave me a quick hug goodbye. They were anxious to get an early start for the shore to pick up my little sister, Lizzie, and wanted to beat the bumper-to-bumper traffic. My sister had been at our grandma’s beach house all week, probably being spoiled rotten, something everyone over the age of eighteen liked to do since the day she was born. It’s not like I’m really complaining. Ever since Lizzie arrived, the pressure was off me to be Mom’s little princess.

Sometimes my mom didn’t know what to make of me being a tomboy and all. Sports were so not her. When I was little, she tried to priss me up, but somewhere along the line I put my foot down, and the dresses came flying off and the ribbons disappeared from my hair. So, I was relieved that Lizzie was a girly-girl, and hoped that Mom would eventually give up and let me be me.