My last day of the dreaded junior year wrapped up only yesterday, but already I feel like my summer is over. My black-sequined suitcase is clutched tightly in my right hand as I haul it across the airport, which feels like the length of three football fields. I have a matching duffel bag weighing down my other arm while my phone is securely wrapped in my palm, as I look out the windows behind me and say goodbye to Manhattan.

"Are we seriously doing this?" I turned to complain to my parents for about the millionth time. I spent the last few months of my junior year planning out my summer with my two best friends, Georgina Love and Addison Lewis. We had parties lined up, a list of clubs that we would sneak into, and a whole bunch of potential lovers and one night stands in mind, but that was all whisked away when my father suggested that we spend our entire summer in his hometown of Hayesville, Pennsylvania. To make my agony crystal clear, I should emphasis that it is this little village in the middle of nowhere — the closest mall is a forty minute drive away and, of course, I don't have my license. Living in Manhattan gives you the luxury to just hop on a cab and hit up that club twenty blocks away, so there's no need to have a license. Except this summer, I'm being forced to ditch the glitz and glam for a camping bag.

"Alicia Michaels, stop complaining! The camp opened up ten years and has furnished cabins that are more like cottages; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. Plus, there is television and wifi," my father said, like he were trying to convince me that this is a good thing. Nice try.

I stuck my nose in the air, visibly upset by the damper on my summer plans. "It is not the penthouse."

My mother gave me a warning glance with her eyes squinted ever so slightly. Her eyebrows arched up, as if daring me to challenge her. "Keep complaining and we will make you sleep in a tent outside." I rolled my eyes and clamped my mouth shut, knowing full well that she wasn't kidding.

Okay, so maybe I did not literally need a camping bag, but the exaggeration still has some merit. This summer is going to hardcore suck.

At best, I'll probably learn how to start a campfire, which won't even be a necessary skill back home, seeing as how Manhattan has electronic fireplaces. Besides, what even is the point of camping? I predict that by 2040, campgrounds will be no more, as there is no point. Who voluntarily subjects themselves to the wilderness and an overwhelming amount of bugs? Maybe psychopaths, but that's it. Campgrounds take up so much potential land for malls and cafés.

I lugged my suitcase through terminal A and into the security line, hoping that this was all just a huge joke and that my parents would surprise me when the plane lands at LAX. I traveled to so many places — Paris, Barcelona, Chicago, Toronto, Madrid, Milan, London, Orlando — the list goes on and on, but I have never visited California before. Not once. It's completely annoying, since I've only been drying to visit there since forever. The heat, the beaches, the movie stars. California is an actual dream land that I am determined to one day visit.

Eventually, we made it past all that annoying security stuff and other typical airport procedures, and boarded the plane. My parents grabbed the two seats in front of me, while I went to move to the window seat with an empty seat next to me. While there is only three of us in the family, my parents always buy four tickets — two for them, one for me, and another ticket that's either for a friend, or so that I don't have to sit next to some stranger. I love having an empty seat next to me for not only the convenient of a comfortable flight, if I want to lay down on both seats, but so that I have a place to put my purse that isn't the floor.

And so I slid into the window seat and dropped my newest Louis Vuitton on the seat next to me, preparing myself for the flight to my doom. Part of me just wished that the plane would undergo turbulence, so I could fake sick and get to go back to Manhattan. I don't know if that plan would really fly — LOL, get it? — with my parents, but at this point, I was beyond desperate for a way out.

My fingers grabbed ahold of the silver zipper that held together my light blue bag, sliding it across, until the contents of my bag became visible. I immediately reached for my phone that had dozens of sympathetic messages lighting up my screen from Georgina and Addison. The girls drive me crazy sometimes — okay, a lot of the time — but all the same, I can't imagine life without them, which is why this summer is going to kill me.

Before zipping my bag back up, I also withdrew a bunch of magazines that I purchased at the airport before we boarded, including all the essentials — Vogue, Teen Vogue, Cosmopolitan, NYLON, Seventeen, and People Style Watch. It is only a two and a half hour flight, but I wanted to be prepared, unlike my last flight from India when I was completely naïve in thinking that I could just sleep the entire flight. Well, guess who couldn't fall asleep?

I opened up to the beginning ads of NYLON, while my mind still plagued me with the horrors to come. Was there even a bright side? I thought about my Canon that I reluctantly packed. I didn't want to have any documentation of the worst summer ever, but at the same time, I didn't want to miss the perfect shot, so in the end, I decided to bring it along. I'm an amateur (obviously, I'm only seventeen), but photography has been my passion since I was eleven. If the campground had a lake, I could probably capture a few good shots as a souvenir, but that still isn't enough of a "bright side".

♡♡♡♡♡

An old, silver pick-up truck picked us up from the airport, and so we all barreled in to it. The driver said his name was Dave, and he asked me to sit in the pick-up portion of the truck, since there wasn't enough room in the truck. So here I am, sitting next to all of our luggage in the back of some stranger's pick-up truck, enjoying the winding and so not paved country roads with the pleasant country air, which smells a lot like horse shit.

I pulled out my phone with a mere forty-seven percent battery causing me anxiety. Though, I felt a beat of gratitude noticing that I had full range of cellular connection even on this country road. I immediately unlocked my phone and my fingers fled to my group chat for a rescue.

Help!!! Xoxo — A

That was my last text before I die, babes. Just letting you know.

You're literally such a drama queen. Did you land yet? — Georgina

Yeah, I'm on my way to the freakin' camp now. I'm literally riding in the back of a pick-up truck! And the "fresh country air" smells like crap.

Omggg, selfie?!? — Georgina

So that you can post it on social media to showcase my terrible summer? Hell no.

Watch your mouth, lady. Just because you're having an inadequate summer does not justify a potty-mouth. — Addison

Hi, Mom .-.

Should we repeat your language from two weeks ago at Mary's party? You know, the language coming from the room you and Jason locked yourselves in?? — Georgina

F-off — Addison

You are forgiven, Alicia. — Addison

Lol. Guys, what if I do die??!

Then, the funeral better be held in Manhattan because there's no way I'm going out to farm land. Not even for you — Addison

Trueeee, sorry, Lic. — Georgina

You guys suck, but I love you anyways.

Meet some cute guys >.< — Addison

Oh, yeah. You mean the farmer boys with no teeth and no future hahahaa

Muddy overalls signal boyfriend material lolol — Georgina

I'll keep that in mind. What are you two losers doing?

Heather is hosting a party tonight at some club. You know, a beginning of summer kick-off. I'm buying a dress. I'm thinking black, lace, and short as hell — Addison

Why? Hooking up with Jason again tonight?

Hooking up with a farmer boy tonight? — Addison

Yeah. Maybe two.

Lollll, now that's something I want to see xD — Addison

I'm getting a hair cut — going short for the summer! — Georgina

Did you approve that with us?

Nope! You're not even here to see it, since you TOOK OFF!! — Georgina

Don't remind me, and I want pictures!!!

The snap of my mother's fingers returned me to my surroundings and I saw a wooden sign with "Camp Wasserfest" carved into it come into view. I heaved a sigh, as my mother said, "Gather your things. We're here."

We're here. Gtg. Kill me.

I love youuuuu! — Georgina

If things are that bad, I'll send over a helicopter to save you, k? — Addison

K. And I want updates on what's happening tonight!

By the second! — Georgina

I shoved my phone into the side pocket of my purse and zipped it up securely. These hill-billies probably don't even know what phones are out here, and if they saw mine, they'd probably steal it in a heartbeat.

The pick-up truck came to a stop outside a huge wooden barn with a tiny sign hanging in front of the door that said "office". I gulped nervously and climbed out of the truck, taking a good luck at the building, which seemed like the head quarters of my summer this year. The outside walls were decorated with a bulletin board that had events listed, none of which I bothered to read through. There was a bench where a couple of five years old girls sat, enjoying some ice cream. Overalls and a bunch of plaid. Yeah, this is definitely a camp.

I shuddered and peered down at my own outfit that consisted of an orange halter top (designer) and dark-wash, high-waisted denim shorts (also, designer), and my orange Michael Kors flip-flops. I was going to stick out like a sore thumb, and these dumb, country folk would probably just assume I'm some movie star or something. Maybe I should just let them. It would make the summer interesting to say the least. People would beg for autographs and pictures just so they could say that they met a celebrity, and it would be funny to see how long it would take someone to figure out that I'm not.

At least I have met celebrities before, like Blake Lively when I was wandering Times Square with Georgina one afternoon. We took some pictures and she was beyond nice (not to mention, downright gorgeous), but no matter how hard I tried, she would not give me Ryan Reynolds' phone number. It's not like I was going to steal her man. Well, at least, not permanently. I literally just want one night with that hunk.

Hey, you can't blame a girl for trying.

"Alicia, leave your luggage here. We are going to check into the office first," my mother directed me, as she reached for my father's hand. For a moment, I stood there watching them — her slim figure that embodied a black designer dress belonged in a social, elitist club in New York and my father's polo would have worked perfectly at some luncheon, not a campground. I muttered a silent "whatever", grabbed my Vuitton, and followed them into the office building.

A middle-aged lady stood behind a white counter with her short auburn hair tied back into a messy, low ponytail with her wrinkles piercing her appearance. Yet, her genuine smile pulled herself together with a twinkle in her eye defending that she loves the camp. "Welcome to Camp Wasserfest," she greeted us with a heavy German accent. I took a quick glance around the room – it had her counter-desk crossover, a tiny convenience store, and what seemed like an arcade in the next room.

At least, I had a place to grab chocolate, if I feel the need to cheat.

My parents talked to the lady, who introduced herself as Ada, and signed in, getting our cabin key. Ada told my parents how to put the air conditioning on, where they could find their golf cart, and about the night restrictions – no drinking in the public areas after three in the morning, due to safety regulations.

"And this is our daughter, Alicia," my father said, cueing me to actually partake in the conversation.

I nodded my head and faked a smile, trying to foster a pleasant attitude, lest I be forced to sleep outside in a sleeping bag. "How do you do?"

"Very well, danke," Ada replied, though I did not quite catch the last word. I just shrugged it off, deciding that it was definitely some strange country slang that they had adapted over here.

We slipped out of the office and I headed back to the pick-up portion of the truck, resting my elbow on my suitcase that deserved to be seen at LAX, not this ghastly excuse for summer fun. The truck started up and dropped us off at our cabin, which was only about a five minute drive away from the office. I did not see much of my surroundings, seeing as how my eyes felt a gravitational pull to the social media displayed on my screen.

My mother snapped her fingers at me again, and I climbed back out of the truck, pulling my luggage down with me. If we were in LAX, my parents would have brought our butler along to do that for me, but they had decided to give him the summer off to relax, while we had a "relaxing" time down in old Hayesville.

"Need a hand?" a feminine voice shot from the left of me. I turned my head and saw a blond teenager standing just a few feet from me with a bubblegum pink smile plastered across her face. Her eyebrow was arched questioningly, while her outfit seemed just as friendly – a white peasant shirt and high-waisted denim shorts. She looked like she had just flown out of Manhattan, too. Maybe she is stuck in the exact same predicament as me.

"I can manage," I lied as the duffel bag practically fell out of my hands. I tightened my grip on the luggage and pulled it through to the cabin my parents were already moving into it. If she and I would become friends, then I would not want to start said friendship off with her helping me like this. "Thanks, though."

"You're a new camper here! I would know because I know everyone here, since I've been coming since I was, like, six, or something," she giggled, her face seeming to beam at the idea of being at camp. On second thought, I should have asked for her assistance.

With a sudden realization that she and I would never become friends, I just gave her a quick smile and hurried inside, dropping my bags off in the living area. It was furnished and looked modern, unlike what I had been imagining, but I still did not want to spend an entire summer here. To my dismay, I found that the blond had found herself behind me.

"So, what brings you to Hayesville?" she asked with a smile still spread across her face. I wanted to just smack it off. I mean, what is wrong with her? Had she been brainwashed, or something? That's not actually a thing they do here, right?

I swerved those questions from my brain with my only focus being getting her away from me. I merely shrugged my shoulders at her question, hoping it would brush her away. When it didn't, I took a deep breath and said, "My father grew up here and heard about this camp, so he decided it would be perfect for a family vacation. All. Summer. Long."

"Well, you sound thrilled," she replied, sarcastically.

I bit back my lip, wondering how to reply. Didn't she understand the horrors of where she has been all her life? "I had plans with my friends for the summer, so it kind of sucked," I decided on saying, not wanting to offend her and get into some argument.

She nodded at this statement, as if she understood. "Must suck. Where are you from?"

Why wouldn't she just give it up? "Manhattan, you?"

"Whoa, Manhattan? That's way cool! I'm just from a town about twenty minutes away. We like to get out of the house and spend the summers here, though." I studied her, confused by that. How could she look so normal, if she lived so close by? Her hair is shiny, teeth all there, and her clothes are definitely in style.

"Oh," is all I said, nodding like what she had said (a) interested me and (b) made sense.

"I'm Blake, by the way!" she introduced herself with, again, a smile. "Blake Dorrison."

"I'm Alicia Michaels, nice to meet you," I lied, though I think she bought my convincing sweet-girl act.

"That's such a pretty name! So, Alicia, have you met any celebrities in Manhattan? I've always dreamt of meeting one, like Emma Roberts," Blake shared with me, while I really didn't care. Of course she wanted to meet a celebrity – everyone does.

"Yeah, I've met a few." Lie. Major lie. I meet at least one a week. Life in New York is never boring, if you know where to go, and I, being Alicia Michaels, most certainly do.

"Like who?" Blake asked, her eyes bulging with excitement for an answer. I tried my best to hold back a sigh. This girl is downright exhausting. I guess that it isn't often she meets someone as high class as me.

Luckily, I heard my mother call my name before I could answer. She came into the room, looking surprised. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know someone was here. Hi, I'm Mrs. Michaels."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Blake," she extended her hand, which my mother shook with much less elegance than she would with the women of New York, probably due to Blake's inept form.

"Well, Alicia, the room on the right is yours, if you want to put your stuff in there. Then, you can go look around the park with your new friend, if you want," my mother said, causing me to cringe. New friend. The words left a burn scar on my skull, drilling dread into me.

And so I dropped my things off in my room with Blake dragging me outside. "So, who have you met?"

"A bunch of people – Blake Lively, Selena Gomez, Zac Efron, Jay-Z, Raven Symone. Lots of people," I muttered, kicking a rock that I passed.

"I love Blake Lively, three guesses why," she joked. I mustered a smile, though her joke seemed tired and overused. She probably said that to everyone who ever mentioned Lively. "What's she like?"

"Very sweet, very beautiful, but she wouldn't give me Ryan's number," I stated.

She looked at me with disbelief. "You asked her that?"

"I had to try," I mused and she giggled uncontrollably, as if she couldn't believe it. Her laugh felt contagious and I ended up joining in, even if it was reluctant at first.

And that's how I made my first friend at camp.

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Author's Note:

Hey friends,

Welcome to my Camp NaNoWriMo: July 2016 novel - a romance story, which is the first in a trilogy, so if you like this story, there will be more to come!

If you're annoyed by Alicia's character, trust me when I say that you're not alone.  She's just a tad bit bratty, but I'm sure you didn't pick up on that at all...

There will be daily updates (with a few exceptions), thirty-one chapters, and lots of love, secrets, and summer fun!

Hope that you're as excited as I am!

For each chapter I'm just going to have a short question for you to answer in the comments just so we can all have a conversation together and get to know each other... Kind of as if we were strangers sitting at a campfire together!

Question of the chapter: What is your favorite camping activity?

My answer: S'mores, of course!!

Can't wait to hear your feedback/responses, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

Lots of love,

Ali xoxo