Chapter One: Unconventional Camping: Hotel Stay for Some, Wilderness for Others

1160 Words
Melania's point of view– I'm excited about the summer ahead. My high school graduation has come and gone, and now, my parents are taking me and all of my friends camping — well, sort of. Let me explain: our version of camping is a little unconventional. While some of us are content with the rugged wilderness experience, there are those among my friends who can't part with the comforts of civilization, such as hairstyling tools and makeup mirrors. Therefore, they require a hotel stay. The guys seem to appreciate roughing it and happily seclude themselves in a tree-filled nearby campground. As for the ladies, we opt for the comfort of a quaint hotel with the guys just a short distance away. Prior to our camping trip, I had a few errands that needed my attention. First on the list is a visit to the doctor. You'd think I was a hypochondriac given my two-year history of debilitating joint and bone pain, but numerous tests have been inconclusive, and with my adoption obscuring any family medical history, I'm left with few answers. My mental health has had its turbulent moments, too. At the age of sixteen, my experiences with an ineffectual psychiatrist taught me to claim that I had conquered hearing my own voice in my head. I've kept this a secret from my friends; I don't want their perception of me to shift from the trendy, athletic girl to someone considered strange. At the doctor's office, yet more tests offer no diagnosis of my pain, prompting the taunting voice in my head to urge me to "embrace the pain and become who you're supposed to be," which is as puzzling as it is vexing. I dismiss the voice decisively. Upon returning home, I energetically kick open the door of my beat-up Camaro, sprint inside and grab my bags and bikinis. I'm looking forward to the possibility of romantic encounters, though I'm not in search of a serious relationship - just some casual fun, including movies and poolside frolics. My aspirations are clear: to become a veterinarian, for wildlife fascinates me and I have no intention of letting anything, especially a relationship, derail those plans. My mother embraced motherhood and adopted children in addition to having biological ones, resulting in our large family of twelve. What is odd even my mother's biological children do not look like either of my parents. Thanks to my father's career as a nuclear scientist, she could afford to stay at home. Approaching my porch, I'm immediately aware of Jessie's presence by his signature scent, an odd blend of sweaty socks and coconut shampoo. He is Physically attractive, however, Jessie isn't the brightest, but he's good company. Despite his physical appeal, our relationship has soured due to his possessive behavior, leading to its termination — his refusal to accept a platonic friendship is a problem I still contend with. As for me, I take pride in being the star player on our La Crosse team, where my height and athleticism shine. A scholarship offer is a stepping stone to my dream of studying at a nearby university, surrounded by woods and wildlife. As we prepare to leave, the logistics of packing two family-sized vans seem chaotic, but all I care about is ensuring Jessie isn't in my van. My family's support is invaluable, especially the protection my linebacker brothers afford me. I have no interest in seeking my biological parents; the family I have is more than enough. Despite this, some unanswered questions linger, like the mysterious origins of my bone pain and the inexplicable survival scars from a violent episode in my childhood. As we commence our trip, splitting between deluxe comforts for the girls and a more rustic experience for the guys, I engage in a playful battle for the front seat, my strength unquestioned among my peers. I cherish the health and vitality that seems intrinsic to my family, fostered by my mother's homemade remedies — excluding my father, who occasionally falls ill, presumably from neglecting his portion of her health-boosting concoctions. Recently, I decided her concoction tasted like crap. I have quit drinking them. As we set off, the promise of adventure awaits, with luxury for the girls and a more insect-challenged existence for the boys. Despite the 10-hour journey marked by the usual pit stops for the younger ones, my anticipation for swimming and hiking keeps me undeterred and eager for the days ahead. As I gazed dreamily out the window of the car, my eyes followed the trees that seemed to drift past in the forest. Being on the freeway, we had to stay near the hotel for convenience. Amid the trees, I glimpsed deer peeking from behind shrubs. But then I saw something astonishing—a Pure Black Wolf. Our eyes met, and in that instance, there was a breathtaking beauty about the wolf that made me wish I could take it home. As if reading my thoughts, the wolf appeared to follow our van deeper into the forest, making me question my sanity. I shook the odd feeling off and turned to check if we were close to our destination. As we veered off onto a road, a stunning hotel emerged, reminiscent of a palace. My mother's smile and nod confirmed her approval. Upon arrival, valets took charge, parking our cars and transporting our luggage into the two suites we reserved, while the boys headed off to their campground adventure. The prospect of staying here thrilled me. Stepping out of the car, that familiar, persistent voice coaxed me to investigate the trees again. This time, there wasn't a hint of command in her voice. Turning around, my eyes fixed on the wolf once more. Its presence felt like a silent shadow tracing my steps. Yet my rationale attributed its closeness to the snacks in the van, dismissing any fanciful ideas. Without knowing why, I smiled and waved at the wolf, and to my surprise, it seemed to react. The idea crossed my mind that perhaps my tendency to stray from the ordinary, including my reluctance to settle down, stemmed from an impending madness—an amusing notion. My mother, sisters, and friends walked alongside me toward the hotel entrance, while I wrapped an arm around my friends, who looked at me warily, likely anticipating another of my infamous pranks. Remember when I mentioned my excellent eyesight and hearing? Well, as my mother checked in, I overheard the clerk mention our room number while I stood by the elevator. Overcome with mischievous glee, I called out to my sisters and friends, declaring I had first dibs on the room. The elevator's 'ding' was the only response to their moaning queries, but my superior knowledge of which room was ours gave me the upper hand. I have told them repeatedly, "you snooze, you lose," but in truth, I'd always have the advantage—as long as they remained clueless.
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