Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
SCARLETT
Six Months Ago
The moment we arrive at Saltspray Cove Youth Camp, relief floods my body so fast, I almost feel guilty. My shoulders, which have been welded up around my ears for weeks if not months, finally slip downward.
I breathe in deeply, my chest loosening with each gulp of oxygen. The air is fresh with the scent of pine and luxury.
During most of the drive, Sadie barely looked up from her pink iPhone. She acted like she didn’t care, only giving me grunts or one-word answers when I tried to talk to her. But as we reach the entrance, she suddenly sits up straighter.
She leans forward, pressing her fingertips to the glass, and stares at the pastel buildings surrounded by swaying palm trees.
“Whoa, Aunty Scarlett… this place is actually gorgeous,” she murmurs.
Sunlight glimmers on a strip of ocean between the buildings. I feel something wake up inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time. “It really is.”
“Doesn’t even feel like a camp,” she says, and I laugh softly.
She’s right. The place looks more like a fancy seaside resort than a camp. There’s no way I could ever afford it on an English teacher’s salary, especially now that the divorce is final and I’m on my own very soon. But Judy offered to pay for both Sadie and me.
Two months ago, I checked the prices online and saw how much it cost for an adult to come along. I almost fell out of my chair. It seemed way too much, and I told Judy that, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she said. “You need it as much as Sadie does. And it’s a chance for the two of you to bond even more.”
I don’t know if it’s possible for Sadie and me to be even closer than we already are.
When she’s around me she’s much calmer and rebels less than when she’s with her mother, and even though I try to help Judy out, to talk to Sadie whenever she gets out of line, there are times when I secretly love being her favorite grown-up.
The one that has the power to make rules but also bends them sometimes, who brings her secret snacks and lets her stay up late for midnight reading when she is at our house.
Judy and I had become friends fast while sharing a hospital room in the maternity ward, but she did not know me well enough to make me Sadie’s godmother then.
But over the years, having spent so much time with Sadie, that’s what I’ve become and I adore her to bits. I had to pull a few strings to get her to be in my class, just so I could get to see her even more.
Being her teacher can be a challenge at times. I have to be careful at school to dial back my attention and not play favorites.
But when I found out Elena Scott was bullying Sadie, making her lunch periods hell and leaving little notes that, even in their childishness, stung, I had to step in and protect her.
Bullying is not tolerated in any form at Ridgewell Academy, and I have always been laser-focused on making sure my classroom is a safe place, especially for Sadie.
When that line got crossed, I made sure heads rolled, even if it meant a few difficult conversations with parents who would rather believe their own children could do no wrong.
I made so much noise that, in the end, after a lot of meetings and stern warnings, the school board voted for expulsion.
I almost felt bad for the girl but not enough to regret what I’d done.
Seeing Sadie’s eyes when I announced to the class that Elena had left the school and would not be coming back was worth it.
My lips curl into a smile at the memory before I bring myself back to the present.
The reception lounge feels cool, with a light citrus scent in the air. Plants climb the stone walls, and preserved moss panels soften sections of the ceiling. It feels like a forest recreated indoors.
Soft instrumental music plays from hidden speakers.
Staff in white T-shirts and blue jeans move smoothly among the guests as they arrive, handing out refreshments: orange juice for the kids and champagne for the adults. There are not many of us at this time.
I see just two other teenage girls comparing something on their phones, and a boy in designer sneakers, standing next to a man in a dark suit and sunglasses: his accompanying adult, I’m guessing.
Two more boys who must already be staying here walk through the hall in tennis whites, carrying rackets. Their laughter bounces off the walls before they slip through a pair of glass doors at the far end.
I notice Sadie staring at those doors a little too long but say nothing.
I take a sip of the champagne and check my watch just as a very blonde woman in her forties walks through the shiny elevator doors. Her hair is styled in a perfectly sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a dark gray suit with a breast pocket over a white silk blouse.
With a bright smile, she approaches the two girls first and gives each a gentle hug.
“Where’s Mandy?” one of the girls, a redhead with freckles, asks and the woman mentions something about an extended leave of absence.
They must be regulars.
The girl must have been talking about Mandy Potter, the camp director. I saw her photo on the camp’s website, positioned next to the portrait of her late mother, Erin Potter, who started this place before investors transformed it from a traditional youth camp to a luxury one.
I didn’t see this woman on the website. Aside from Mandy and Erin Potter, no other employees were listed.
My handbag vibrates, but I ignore it. It stops only for it to vibrate again almost immediately, persistent. Still, I don’t make a move to answer the call. Not now.
The woman welcomes the man and his son before she comes to us, extending a hand. “Scarlett Grant, I presume? Welcome to Saltspray. We’re very happy to have you. I’m Megan Hale, the interim director.”
Her grip is firm and dry, and her eyes hold mine just long enough to make me feel welcome and important.
“Thank you. It’s beautiful here.”
“It’s meant to be. But the environment does half the work, I have to admit.” She chuckles.
Megan is quite tall with a perfect posture, and has very pale, almost translucent skin.
She turns to introduce herself to Sadie, giving her a quick hug like she did the other girls.
“You can call me Megan, or Miss Hale; either is fine.” She lays a hand on Sadie’s shoulder.
“Since you are new here, I want to explain how this week will work. You’ll be staying in the beach-facing rooms and your accompanying adult, Mrs. Grant, will be in the garden-facing rooms.”
“I’ll have my own room?” Sadie twists a lock of her dark hair around her finger, clearly uncomfortable.
“Not exactly. You will be with the other guests your age.”
I smile, but something inside me twists. I pull Megan aside. “I thought we were going to share a suite.”
“Mrs. Grant, our program is built around one core principle.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “We believe children grow best when they are allowed to surrender fully to the healing process and be themselves without adults around the entire time.”
“What does surrender mean, in practical terms?” I scratch the back of my head.
“It just means space. Space from the familiar and from adult mediation. Though you won’t be allowed in the children’s living quarters, you’ll see Sadie during scheduled activities and meals.”
“So I won’t be allowed to check on her at all?” I’m already thinking about being separated from Sadie. “I’m afraid this was not communicated when we signed up.”
“I apologize if there was a miscommunication. But in our experience, the boundary gets us the most positive outcomes.” She pauses. “We’ve found that a little independence helps everyone. It allows the young ones to settle without feeling observed the entire time.”
“I’m sorry but I have to ask. Why have the accompanying adult policy in place at all?”
Megan leans forward slightly. “We invite parents or guardians to join during a child’s first stay with us.
It gives them a chance to witness our program in action, tour the grounds, interact with our team.
Most of them find it reassuring to experience Saltspray themselves, and to be nearby, before sending their children back on their own. ”
“I see.” I’m still finding it hard to part with Sadie. This was our time to bond.
“We think adults who come along should have a comfortable place to relax and recharge as well,” Megan continues.
“Sadie will be fine. She will make friends quickly, and by the end of this week, she’ll be so engrossed in the experience she won’t want to leave.
I better show her to her room so she can settle in. ”
With that, she returns to Sadie and talks to her softly. Still looking a little stiff, Sadie comes to give me a hug before being whisked away to her adventure.
Waiting for someone to show me to my own room, I hold the stem of my flute a little too tight as I watch them disappear through the same glass doors the tennis boys had exited.
For reasons I can’t explain, I feel a thread of dread coiling itself around my spine.