Jazz and a few of her bunkmates were coming up the trail from their canoeing excursion. After a few days of settling in, the city girl was adapting to life in the wild quite nicely. She was sopping wet after a sneak attack by a canoe full of boys led to the girls tipping over into the lake. They were already plotting their revenge.

"What if we snuck into their cabin tonight and stole their underwear?" Piper, a bubbly girl from Florida offered as the four girls trudged up the path.

Jazz shook her head, wringing her hair out as she tried to not roll her eyes at the Floridian's comment, "Even if the water reached fifty degrees it still wouldn't be cold enough." She explained. "We could TP their cabin?"

"Bless your heart," Simone chimed in with her thick South Carolina accent. To the lifelong New Yorker's ear, some of the southern phrases and dialect flew right over Jazz's head. "But we gotta get them back real good! Something that's really gonna make 'em ticked!"

Before anyone could bring up any new ideas, all four girls looked up as a high shrieking emitted up near the cabins. The girls looked at each other in bewilderment - immediately their tired legs found some energy.

"I need a doctor!"

This was hell. If there was one thing Frankie knew for certain, this camp with these campers in the woods was the undeniable definition of hell.

It had only been four days since her arrival, and she had mostly spent the majority of the ninety-six hours trying to figure out the fastest way back to Westchester.

Part of that plan included her mustering up the best fake crying she could try as she wailed on the ground, clutching her right ankle with both hands as a small group started to congregate around her.

Ashley, one of the camp counselors, made her way through the crowd, "Let me through!" She knelt down to Frankie, "What happened?"

"I... I think it's broken!" Frankie yelled out, emphasized by the tightening of her grasp around the referenced area.

"Let me see," Ashley attempted to take the injured foot into her hand to examine it in spite of Frankie's fierce objections.

The twelve year old shook her head furiously, "You can't!" She gritted her nails into her skin around the tight hold. It didn't do too much - she had been biting her nails for as long as she could chew - but she hoped it would at least make the area a bit more red before the convincing really had to start.

The camp counselor looked at the young girl with sympathy, as the chatter around them amped up with everyone trying to figure out what was going on, "I have to look to see how serious it is. You might have to go to the hospital." She said with a frown.

It took all of the acting skills Frankie had in her which weren't much - sans a second grade play where she played a tree - to keep the corners of her mouth downward turned. A trip to the hospital would mean a one way ticket out this lousy summer and back home where her skateboard and mother, who, after realizing what a horrible idea this plan had been, might finally get off of her back for once. Contrary to her counselor's remorseful expression, this was the exact plan Frankie wanted.

Frankie went on to explain to the counselor what 'had' happened, happy that the counselor was eating up her words.

A few other campers caught up with Jazz's group as they all headed towards the screaming. Murmurings of a hurt camper were buzzing amongst them.

"Anyone know who it is?"

"I think I heard it's Frankie!"

"Can't be! I just saw him and Chuck down at the basketball courts."

"Not boy Frankie! Girl Frankie! The one who doesn't talk!"

Jazz's eyebrows furrowed at the overarching conversations. To the logical pre-teen, the mystery of who the camper was didn't seem like that far fetch of a concept. Sans the crowd of people, a camper was clearly on the ground hurt. Jazz didn't know who either Frankie was, but felt bad for them, nonetheless. It would suck being hurt away from home.

"Are you sure we should go over?" She asked nobody in particular, "Maybe we should just go back to the bunks?"

It was clear from the looks on the other campers faces that they were not a fan of her suggestion. Jazz sighed but still followed with her group. She wasn't looking to be an outcast this early in the summer.

By the time they reached the commotion, the spectators were sizable and two counselors were at the helm. Amongst all of the bodies, Jazz couldn't see who the hurt camper was.

Frankie was straining to maintain her crocodile tears as another counselor, Camila, was consulting with Ashely as the two tried to figure out what to do with the young girl, all the while she ignored the campers standing around and staring at her. The snide girl thought that the protocol to deal with a seemingly broken ankle shouldn't be considered rocket science at a summer camp but, alas, she had gotten the two college newbies.

"Did you lose consciousness at all when you fell?" Camila asked, looking over the body part in question that Frankie had finally let go of. Frankie was thankful, at least, for the dirt and leaves that had become second skin since she was sent off to Siberia. It aided to the fact that the red indents from her fingers weren't going to last forever.

"It's my ankle - not my brain." The comment rolled off of her tongue before she could foully think through her words. She added a grimace at the end of her sentence to hide her discontent.

After some more discussion between the pair, the two counselors stood up, each taking one of Frankie's hands, and helped her up off the ground. The group of campers around them parted like the red sea as the trio headed towards the nurse's station to figure out the next step.

The two counselors shared a look. "Do you think we'll need to call an ambulance?"

Yes! Frankie screamed in her mind. Finally!

"She's able to put weight on it."

An unfamiliar voice spoke up, just barely, over the sounds of the crowd. The three stopped in their tracks.

"What was that?"

"Um... I broke my ankle last year." The voice continued on, "The doctor said the biggest difference between a break and a sprain is if you can put weight on it."

Frankie couldn't see who she needed to send daggers at, but the second that she could, they should be worried.

"Really?" Camila spewed out in a whisper before clearing her throat, "I mean... that's a great sign!"

Frankie grew flustered as she felt eyes on her - more specifically her right foot that was placed firmly on the ground. Chatter started back up, both counselors thanking the camper.

"But it really hurts if I move it!" Frankie insisted as she could sense the concern over her - and her ticket out of this place - starting to drift away.

Ashley held a sympathetic look, but not quite as somber as it had been when she had initially come over to her, "Don't worry. We're still going to take you down to the nurse to get you checked out. But at least it doesn't look like the rest of your summer should be ruined!" The cheeriness of her tone was the last thing Frankie wanted. "How great is it that it's been less than a week and you all are looking out for each other?!"

That was the last thing Frankie would have said! She didn't even stop herself from rolling her eyes at the sentiment. Who did this girl think she was?!

It didn't take long for the crowd around the injured girl to start to disperse once it was clear that her leg wasn't falling off. Jazz had barely seen the girl that had been led off, hoppling. She had felt sympathy for the fellow camper - having had to wear a cast for six weeks after a run in at the ice skating rink. Hopefully, Jazz's comments helped her not be as worried.

"Has anyone hung out with her?" Jazz commented, nodding towards the flash of burgundy hair that had just disappeared behind the double wood doors of the main cabin.

All of the girls shook their heads. "Brooke mentioned she's from New York, but I don't think she talks that much."

Jazz shrugged at Simone's comments as Piper suggested they should go back to their cabin to change out of their wet clothes. It didn't take much for everyone to agree. They headed towards the cabin as the conversation returned to plotting their revenge on the boys.

___

Downstate in New York City, Lin sat in his dressing room at the Richard Rodgers Theatre, taking a break from the grueling task of blocking the show. Things were coming together, however, and that was exciting. He laid down on the small couch, propping his tennis shoes up on the arm. Lin pulled out his cell phone and checked his messages.

This was the longest Jazz had ever been away from home, and he wasn't too proud to admit that he missed her terribly. Ever since she was a baby, it had just been them. She was his partner in crime, and not having her around was like missing his right arm. He opened his text messages, hoping for an update from her, but there was nothing. Knowing her, she was too busy having fun and making new friends.

He heard a soft knock on the door and it slowly pushed open to reveal his co-star, Philippa Soo. She was dressed in skinny jeans with a plain black t-shirt, her long hair swept up in a ponytail. She smiled at him and he sat up to make room for her on the couch.

"Hey," he grinned like a fool as she sat down and they exchanged a brief kiss. They kissed multiple times during the show, but it always felt different in real life when no one was watching.

"Anything from Jazz?" She asked, knowing he was missing his daughter.

Lin shook his head and looked at his phone again, as if she may have messaged him in the last thirty seconds.

"Hey, I was thinking," she began, folding down part of his t-shirt sleeve that had flipped. "After work, we could go grab some dinner?"

With Jazz gone, Lin had been getting lonely in the evenings, so he jumped at the chance to hang out with this new, exciting woman in his life. He'd gone on a few dates over the years since breaking things off with Jazz's mother, but there had never been anything serious. Lin wasn't sure how Jazz would take it. They were so close that he feared trying to introduce a girlfriend would be a bad idea. Especially now that she was almost a teenager.

"That sounds great," he grinned, linking his fingers with hers. "What sounds good?"

As she began wondering, his cell phone rang. It was Jazz!

"It's my daughter," he told her, and she needed no more explanation. Pippa knew Lin had been on pins and needles, waiting to hear from her. She winked at him and kissed his cheek before standing up to leave.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted her warmly. "How's it going?"

"It's going great, Dad!" she sounded like her normal, chipper self. "Today, we got to go canoeing. And tomorrow we're going rock climbing!"

"That's great, mija," he responded, feeling relieved that she was still having a good time. He himself, a lifetime city resident, had had no interest as a child in going to a wilderness camp. Jazz was all for it. "Have you made lots of friends?"

"Uh-huh," she said.  "This girl named Carmen is pretty cool and she's from Brooklyn. Maybe we can hang out sometime after camp. There was also this girl I heard about though that may have faked breaking her foot so she could go home!"

That sounded much like something he'd do. As a kid, he had, in fact, faked a spinal injury to get to go home from camp. A fellow camper had been allowed to go home after injuring himself and Lin had been so miserable that he'd faked it himself. It had worked, and his parents had dragged him to doctor's appointments.

"Wow, she must be a pretty good actress," he commented in amusement.

"Apparently not," she retorted as several girls from her cabin grabbed some towels and ran outside. "Since it didn't work."

Lin chuckled. "I guess you're right."

"I gotta go, Dad," Jazz told her father. "We're going swimming in the lake. Love you!"

"Love you too, Jazz," he told her, wishing they could talk a little longer, but he was grateful she still thought enough about him to call. "Have fun."

___

"But the nurse checked her out and she's fine?" Vanessa checked as she filed away some papers in her law office drawer. Her office phone was balanced between her ear and shoulder as she multi-tasked.

"Yes, ma'am," the camp counselor Ashley told the mother. "They iced it but there's no sign of a sprain or a break."

"Okay," Vanessa furrowed her brow, confused. Her kid certainly wasn't a wimp. She sped around on her skateboard all over town, performing death-defying tricks whenever she had the chance. Frankie was the first to brush off a scraped knee or a bump. The fact that she was complaining of a broken foot when nothing was physically wrong was strange. "Can I talk to her?"

The phone was handed over to the moping twelve-year-old, still trying to milk her fake injury for all she could. Maybe she could convince her mom that camp was too dangerous after all and she should just let come home.

"Hi, Mom," Frankie greeted her, trying to sound as pathetic as possible.

"Hi, Francesca," Vanessa called her daughter by her full name, suspecting this 'injury' wasn't a big deal at all. "How's it going?"

Frankie sighed dramatically. "Not so good," she told her, turning away from Ashley, who was filling out an injury report at a nearby desk. "I'm not sure it's safe here."

Vanessa closed the filing cabinet drawer with a huff. "Francesca, your counselor told me the nurse checked you out and there's nothing wrong. Now what's this really about?"

"But Mom, it hurts!" She insisted, feeling desperate. "It really does."

"Sweetheart, I've seen you shed less tears after falling flat on your face after a skateboarding fall," she reminded her dare-devil child. "You almost knocked out a tooth when you were nine. Do you really expect me to believe a little twisted ankle means you should come home?"

"Yes!" Frankie admitted. "This is way worse than that!"

"Have you tried to make any friends?" She asked.

"They're all morons," Frankie told her.

"I doubt that," Vanessa told her, looking out her lower Manhattan office window. "Frankie, I know you were never wild about going to camp, but you really need to give it a chance. You've only been there less than a week. Have you really tried?"

Frankie sighed and crossed her free arm around her middle. "I'm just not cut out for the wilderness."

"It's good for you to get out of the city for a while," Vanessa told her. "You need some fresh air. I want you to call me tomorrow night and tell me three new things you've tried. Things you couldn't do if you were in New York."

Frankie rolled her eyes and examined her fingernails, all chewed and disgusting. She would never ever be a girly girl or a nature fiend. All Frankie wanted to do was hang out with her skateboarding friends and learn new tricks.

Frankie didn't respond, which is what she did when she didn't like something. Vanessa continued, "If you really try, I bet you'll have a wonderful time. I love you."

"Love you too," she grumbled reluctantly, then hung up the landline on the old, tattered desk. Ashley looked over at her.

"Skateboarding, huh?" she asked, trying to build some more rapport with this challenging camper. "One of my best friends does some amateur skateboarding. Who are your favorite skateboarders?"

"Lizzie Armato," she answered in a monotone voice.

"Is she the Finnish girl?" She answered, finishing off her injury report, noting that she'd called Frankie's mother.

Frankie nodded and sat up a little bit, feeling defeated. She really was stuck here for another five and a half weeks and she wasn't sure how she was going to make it.

___

Later that night, Frankie dropped the ruse that her ankle was still hurting her and began walking towards the showers, wearing her flip flops. She carried her shower caddy in her hand, a clean towel draped over her shoulder. A couple of the showers were already in use, but she found a free one at the end of the row. She set her caddy inside and turned on the water to let it warm up. Frankie walked over to the mirrors and pulled the elastic from her ponytail. She leaned in to examine a small blemish on her chin, noting that the gross creek water was probably going to make her face break out. She sighed as another girl came out of her shower in a towel, her wet hair wrapped up on top of her head.

"Here's your conditioner back," she held out the bottle Frankie, who was confused.

"Huh?" She asked, bewildered.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it," the girl told her.

"That's not mine," Frankie told her, turning and walking to her shower. The girl looked confused, but set the bottle on the counter.

Not thinking much of it, she walked towards her now-hot shower and pulled the curtain. She peeled off her sweaty clothes, tossing them out and onto the bench. As she let the hot water cascade over her, she heard some other girls laughing and talking as they entered. The shower next to her turned off and whoever it was got out.

"Oh, hey Frankie!" one of the girls said.

"I'm Jazz," the girl replied.

Frankie ruffled her eyebrows in confusion as she began to work the shampoo into her hair. There must be another girl here who looked a lot like her. It was probably just another Latina. White girls sometimes had trouble telling any of them apart.

A few minutes later, she finished up and pinned her long dark hair up with a clip. She toweled off and then wrapped it around her body. As Frankie stepped out she almost ran into another girl.

"Jeez!" She grabbed at her towel, which threatened to come loose. The other girl stumbled backwards, looking surprised and annoyed. Before either could say anything more, they locked eyes.

Frankie was looking at a clone of herself.