Three weeks before I turned thirteen, as my Aunt Joey’s rusted-out Jeep rolled up the cobblestone driveway among well-manicured brick buildings and towering pine trees, I was well aware that life as I knew it was about to change. It just wasn’t for the reasons I believed at the time. Little did I know, by getting accepted into Camp Oscines on the south side of Lake Tahoe, my fate had already been set into motion. That summer was the start of a tumultuous future that couldn’t be stopped no matter how hard I tried. The wild, unpredictable source of my pleasure and agony for years to come was about to enter my life with a presence too quiet to be properly appreciated.

I remember all too well how my stomach flipped over itself as I peered out the cracked windshield, taking in every detail of the massive campsite. Dozens of buildings scattered across the property, similar in architecture but varied in size and shape. My heart pounded against my ribs when we passed colorful Adirondack chairs perfectly arranged around a circular fire pit. The admissions counselor had mentioned that campers were split up around different campsites every night to showcase their talents. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to sing in front of more than a small handful of people. Just thinking about it twisted my gut in knots.

“Fancy place,” Aunt Joey said, snapping her bubblegum. “You sure about this, half-pint?”

I cringed with the nickname she had used on me for as long as I could remember. I knew I was lucky to have her after my parents died, and I was grateful she didn’t consider me to be a burden as she raised me as her own despite barely having enough money to support herself, but too often she forgot I was growing up. Too often I had to remind her that I was no longer a little toddler she could tickle and read stories to at bedtime.

“It’ll be fine,” I answered. Then I mumbled to myself with reassurance, “Everything will be okay.”

Four months prior, when I entered the Fresno auditorium for regional auditions, there was no denying that I was out of my league. All the other kids were from private schools, probably the type who lived in mansions and were accustomed to lavish vacations. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were still wearing their uniforms, having come straight from class, I would’ve been tipped off by the overbearing, well-dressed mothers who accompanied them. I’d spent those four months mentally preparing myself for camp, knowing I’d be an outsider.

At the crest of the grand driveway, Aunt Joey prepared to park behind a sleek luxury car. A girl around my age with shiny blonde hair stood by the curb, sharp blue eyes filled with disgust as they followed my aunt’s hunk of junk. Something about the girl’s perfectly ironed outfit and glowing white teeth behind lush red lips as she smirked bitchily at Aunt Joey reminded me just how much I was out of my element.

I sunk down into my seat, all at once wondering if I had made a mistake. Just because the talent scouts thought I had a strong voice didn’t necessarily mean that I belonged at this camp. If I hadn’t been one of few recipients to receive a full scholarship, Aunt Joey never would’ve been able to afford to send me.

“Let’s do this thing,” Aunt Joey said enthusiastically, reaching for her handle.

I reached out to grab her arm. “No, that’s okay! I mean…I’ve got it from here.”

“Don’t want the other kids seeing you hug your old auntie goodbye? That’s cool with me.”

She leaned back with one of her goofy grins that always reminded me of my dad. It never failed to make me both depressed and nostalgic at the same time. As my dad’s baby sister, she’s a mere ten years older than me. In those days, she was my entire world. I adored the hippie vibe she carried that was wild and without apology. Dark hair messed, worn clothes usually mismatched, often the stench of pot clinging to her like a second skin. We were both fortunate enough to inherit the strong Martin cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and thick lashes. With those same striking features, my dad’s presence could always fill a room.

With the thought of him, my throat thickened with tears. Although my dad put in grueling hours that left his hands calloused from cutting down trees, he only made enough for us to live somewhat comfortably. And I remember my parents fighting about how they owed the bank thousands of dollars. When they died, I was left with nothing. But I didn’t care about money. It was my fault they were gone. I’d never forgive myself.

“You sure you’re okay?” Aunt Joey asked, raising her eyebrows high. “You look a little nervous.”

Rolling my eyes so she wouldn’t catch on and obsessively worry, I blurted out a rather abrupt goodbye before grabbing my bag from the backseat and slipping from the car. As soon as I had slammed the door shut behind me, sucking in the crisp air, I almost choked on the tears threatening to spill. I was old enough to know I shouldn’t have been such a jerk to my aunt. Although she wasn’t paying a dime for me to attend the camp, she had bought me a few new outfits and took a day off from work to drive me four and a half hours that turned into six with bathroom breaks and lunch.

By then, the blonde girl was a few steps ahead, making her way to the main building. A suited man trailed behind her, lugging several different sized bags and leaving her empty-handed. I slowed my pace to put a safe distance between us, but we ended up right next to each other at the end of the long line for registration. I held my breath, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping she wouldn’t notice the poor girl.

But of course, fate had other plans. When she spun around to look at me, arms crossed over her already large breasts, I was so nervous that I feared I’d throw up all over her. Her gaze slipped downward, appearing humored by my $10 sundress. Or maybe she was amused by my flat chest.

Part of me wanted to bolt from there and run after my aunt. But the stubborn side of me remained rooted in place, matching the girl’s calloused smile. Looking into her heavily made-up eyes, I was slightly embarrassed that I didn’t even own mascara.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “I would think the entrance for help would be out back somewhere.”

“I’m here to sing, same as you,” I replied, crossing my arms over my stomach. Thankfully, I sounded a lot braver than I felt.

She pressed a manicured hand to her lips. “Oh, my god! You must be one of those welfare cases, here on a free ride! Am I right?”

“Stop being a bitch, Brooke,” a tenor voice snapped behind me.

A lanky boy with sandy colored hair and a wide nose appeared at her side, only slightly taller than either one of us. Though he had a nerdy presence and appeared awkward, as if he had yet to grow into his features, it was glaringly obvious he came from money like the other kids. Even his neatly trimmed haircut looked expensive. He was dressed in khaki pants and a sea green polo shirt the same cool tone as his eyes. They were the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen, surrounded by thick lashes and peppered with a little cluster of golden specks that reminded me of the kind of beautifully starry nights I saw the time my dad took us camping in the Sequoia National Park.

And those mesmerizing eyes were locked on me.

A weird little flush crept over my skin.

“She’s just pissed her parents shipped her out here for another summer because she hates singing,” he told me as his lips pressed into a friendly smile. “I’m Roman, and this is Brooke. We’re from New York. How ‘bout you?”

“Isabelle,” I mumbled in reply. It was obvious he was friends with the bitchy girl the way he draped his arm over the edge of her shoulder. At the time, I really didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Isabelle, from…” He cocked his head, waiting for me to answer.

“Down by Fresno.”

The friendly smile grew. “A California girl. Is this your first time here?”

Brooke laughed with an annoyingly high cackle. I knew then and there she was a first soprano. I also decided that I hated her. “Obviously. Look at her, Roman. She’s as scared as one of those stray kittens you can only get rid of by drowning.”

For a split second, Roman’s eyes warmed with sympathy before he reeled on her. “You know, Brooke, just because my father works for yours doesn’t mean I have to kiss your ass all the time. You could be nice for once in your life.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “Like you really expect me to be friends with this girl? She doesn’t belong here.”

Roman flashed me another sympathetic look—one that took my breath away. In that moment I saw the type of worldly kindness you didn’t normally see in kids our age, like he knew of my struggles.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Isabelle.” His gentle smile did nothing to erase the pain in his eyes. Then he snatched Brooke’s hand and pulled her far away from the line. Their voices raised in argument as he dragged her around the building and out of sight.

They didn’t return, even after I was checked in and assigned to a cabin.

Although my run-in with Brooke left me feeling uneasy, and I wished my aunt would return to take me away from the nightmare, I was a little shaky in the knees from meeting the boy with starry green eyes.

* * *

Fortunately, Brooke wasn’t in my cabin, but she may as well have been the way my bunkmates gave me the cold shoulder. Even once we were all wearing the camp’s matching t-shirts and khaki shorts, I was still sorely out of place. My dark, frizzy curls were unruly in comparison to their well-kept styles, and I was the only one not wearing a stitch of makeup other than lip gloss. It didn’t help that I seemed to be the only one who hadn’t started puberty yet, either.

The realization that this was how it could be my entire summer vacation created an ache in my chest that couldn’t quite be classified as being homesick. It was more like regret.

It wasn’t until after dinner when we were told to gather around the campfire that I caught sight of Roman again. Sitting in a chair far away from my bunkmates, my heart hammered in my chest when he came into the firelight. The way he swaggered ahead of a pack of loud boys, passing out high-fives and flashing a charming grin to the girls, made it seem he was the unofficial king of camp. His endearing personality seemed to win everyone over. The way the other guys watched him as if waiting for cues on when to laugh at his jokes, and when to plop down into the open chairs, they may as well have been on their knees, bowing to him. And the other girls became animated, passing him flirty looks while whispering to each other and giggling behind their hands.

A tall guy with deep dimples—I’d later discover he was Roman’s seventeen-year-old counselor—stepped out from the darkness. He leaned his head back and crooned in a strong baritone, “Good ev-en-ing, camp-ers!”

Everyone around me replied with the same enthusiastic greeting, their strong, united voices rising up like a prayer to the beautifully star-lit sky. I was grateful it was dark so no one could see me blushing. It wasn’t the first time I was the only one who didn’t know what to do, like when going the wrong way through the dinner line, or where to find the sheets to make my bed. No one was eager to help me out until our counselor arrived mere minutes before the evening sound off.

“All right! Sounds like you guys are raring to go tonight!” The guy rubbed his hands together, smiling. “As most of you probably already know, I’m Eric. Are there any newcomers here among us this summer?”

Bile rose in my throat when every one of my bunkmates swung their gaze in my direction. I tried making myself smaller, hoping no one would say anything. Then Roman’s pretty eyes found me over the flickering flames dividing us, and his wide lips curved with a bright, reassuring smile.

A little of my discomfort began to melt away until he called out, “Isabelle from Fresno!”

If there wasn’t a fire between us, I would’ve run over and punched him in the arm. When all eyes landed on me, I was sure I was going to pass out from embarrassment.

“Isabelle, we’re delighted to have you!” Eric shouted in my direction, holding his hands out like some kind of prophet. Although kind of strange, it was the warmest greeting I had received since stepping foot on Camp Oscines. “You’ve probably already heard a little bit about what we do at the nightly sound offs, but don’t be afraid to raise your hand if you have any questions. You don’t have to perform in front of this group until you feel comfortable, even if it takes all summer, although I’d like to think you’ll be ready long before then. Which voice part do you prefer?”

“Alto?” I squeaked out.

Eric clapped his hands together, making me jump a little. “Perfect! Holler if you need help picking up the alto part on any of the songs!”

I bit down on my lip, afraid I would burst out laughing. Eric was a hyper guy, and I wasn’t sure what to make of him. I happened to meet Roman’s gaze again over the flickering flames, and his lips quirked with a different kind of smile—one that felt special compared to the one he gave the girls earlier. It was slow and gentle, fueled by sincerity.

Eric spoke again, taking Roman’s attention from me. “Who wants to start us off on the solo round tonight?”

Roman jumped to his feet. “I’ll go.”

I was both impressed and taken back by his willingness to go first. His beautiful eyes disappeared behind closed lids as he cleared his throat and tipped his head backward. The second the first few hummed bars vibrated against his throat I knew exactly what he was doing before the lyrics fell from his lips.

My heart skidded to a stop as his gravelly voice sang Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” in a rendition unlike anything I had heard before. The song was one of my aunt’s favorites, but this sounded like something entirely different from the CD she played non-stop. It was slow and moving, practically bringing tears to my eyes.

I tried to pretend it was a coincidence he chose that song, that he had rehearsed it all school year, knowing it’s what he wanted to sing before we even met, and that he wasn’t in any way trying to single me out. Then his eyelids flipped open on the chorus, fixating on me, and I melted into the Adirondack chair.

I suddenly understood the reason why his parents sent him across the country for the summer. The reason he was so popular among the campers, making all the girls giddy the minute he appeared: Roman didn’t just have a stunning voice. He was a born performer. The way his body twisted when his hands came out at his sides, the way his chin lifted when he hit the high notes—it was like watching a seasoned pop star in a music video. It was kind of cheesy, but it also somehow made him irresistibly cute.

A dizzying range of emotions washed over me, from embarrassment to flattery to paranoia that he was doing this as some kind of a joke. But once he was finished and comically bowed to the burst of applause before sitting, he once again gave me one of those special smiles that made me feel like I was the only girl in the entire world.

It was the first time I had swooned over a boy, with or without pretty eyes.

But it would be far from the last.