I’m not a snob, you can ask anyone at my high school. Anyone worth asking, that is. But they’ll tell you I’m so easy to get along with. I just don’t get why so many people think my friends and I are so stuck up or something.

  I really wish I could have gone out to the lake with my friends Caroline, Jessica, and I guess Brittany could have come too. Maybe Caroline could get Bobby to drive us out because when my family and I got to the lake the cabin where we were staying was pretty.

  My sister and I had to share a room, which I hated because she complains when I wake up early to fix my hair and makeup. She has no concept of what it’s like to be a girl. I swear, if my hair were as straight as hers I’d shave it off and wear a wig. I’m so thankful for my natural curls! Anyways, we had to share a room, but the living room has an awesome picture window that looks over the entire lake! Seriously, the first morning I brushed my teeth as I watched some people go water skiing. I’d never seen anything like that before, and watching it in real life is so much cooler than on tv!

  Then the rest of my family woke up and reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this cabin. Mom came our room, flipped on the bedroom light, and started yelling at me for no reason.

  “You gonna go down to the dock with the rest of us? We’re going fishing this morning,” she said, like I was doing something wrong by hanging out in my room.

  “What do you think?”

  Mom frowned. “Oh, come on! Don’t be such a baby about it! What if you go and you like it?”

  I looked over at her, annoyed. I couldn’t wait for them to be gone, I hoped they would stay on the lake all day.

  “Not going to happen because I’m not going,” I said.

  Mom told me earlier that I didn’t have to go with them on the first day at the lake since most of the day they would be taking a boat safety class.

  “Tomorrow though, the whole family is going fishing, Abby. The whole family.”

  “Oh, jeez, Mom, I get it. You guys probably want me out there so you can laugh when I slip off the boat.”

  Mom sighed. “We want you out there because we’re a family. You don’t even have to come for the safety class because your father and I know you’ll just be bored. Heavens knows we don’t want you around strangers when you’re bored.”

  I looked over at her suspiciously.

  “Are you embarrassed of me?” I asked.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Honey, that’s just silly. I don’t want you to accuse me and your father of torturing you by making you stand by a lake all day. Why don’t you take a walk around the park? Just make sure you’re back here in time for supper.”

  At first, I was really glad when they left until I realized there was nothing to eat, no cell phone service, and the television only got local channels. I hate this place because it reminds me of how bad it sucks like every five minutes.

  I went to the kitchen to find something to eat. But there wasn’t anything, unless I actually wanted to cook. Why couldn’t there be a McDonald’s nearby? Stupid lake. There’s lots of places to eat at the beach where people, like, actually go on vacation.

  I finally settled on some toast with butter then picked up the cabin’s phone to call Caroline. But the phone was stupid or something because I couldn’t dial out without a credit card number. Whatever. Mom brought some really sweet butter with honey mixed into it, so that was something.

  There was nothing to do at the cabin so I had to go outside. I was so bored, I wanted to take the car and go see my friends no matter what! Instead, I walked down this dirt path behind the cabin for a couple of minutes. Then, I began to feel the sun baking my sweat into the back of my shirt. Gnats hung in the air everywhere out here. I began to breathe a little harder and snorted one up my nose. Then I screamed.

  “Do people really enjoy walking around in this? Is this what people love about camping?” I shouted.

  I wanted to just run back to the cabin, slam the door, and cry, but I didn’t want my parents to think they’d won by breaking me or anything. I tried to calm down and find something, anything, I could like about this place. As much as I hated to admit it, Mom and Dad were right about one thing: this place was pretty. Lots of wildflowers grew along the dirt path in golden and violet clumps. I picked several of them to make a bouquet for the kitchen table in the cabin.

  “Abby, where did you find these flowers?” Dad asked.

  I could tell by the way he asked that I’d done something wrong.

  “They were growing all over along the trail behind the cabin. Why? What’s wrong?” I asked. I scratched my forearm. It had been itching a lot lately.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Dad called for Mom. “Come in here for a second. I think we might have a problem with something.”

  Of course we had a problem with the flowers I’d brought in. They weren’t just pretty yellow and purple wildflowers. I’d picked a whole bouquet of poison ivy.

  “I hate this place! Look at me! I’m ruined!”

  Sam started to giggle and ran out of the room. Dad went into the bathroom and took out the first aid kit. Mom began asking me more questions.

  “You didn’t put the flowers all over your face and neck, did you sweetie? Are these the only flowers you picked, or did you make another bouquet and leave it somewhere?”

  For once I didn’t feel like saying anything bitchy to Mom. I could have said something like “Yeah, I’m allergic to this place and need to leave right away,” but I didn’t. Her and Dad were really trying to help me.

  Dad came out of the bathroom with a pink bottle in his hands.

  “You’re covered in poison ivy. Stop scratching, Abby, this’ll help.”

  I watched in horror as he poured this gooey liquid onto a cotton ball and stepped towards me with it held out. It looked like a Mark Kay experiment gone wrong, and smelled even worse.

  “Oh my god, Dad! You’re not going to put that stuff on me!”

  “It’s this calamine lotion, or you could scratch your skin off. Your choice, kiddo.”

  I bit my lip trying to resist the urge to tear into the rash climbing up my legs. That calamine lotion looked terrible, not like my buttermilk lotion at all! And that horrid smell! Why didn’t they make all lotion vanilla scented?

  “Well?”

  “Fine.”