At lunch the next day,

someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned

and almost fell off my chair.

It was the camp director!

“Are you finished eating?” she asked.

I nodded,

speechless.

I’d never seen her talk to a camper before.

She made announcements

and drove around in a golf cart

and spoke into a walkie-talkie.

Why did she care if I’d eaten?

“I’m taking Eleanor for a second,”

the director called across the table to Hope.

I looked with wide eyes at Joplin.

She looked with wide eyes back.

“Come,” the director said to me.

My brain raced as I followed her.

But I couldn’t think of why she wanted me.

She led me into a little office

and shut the door behind us.

We sat down at a round table.

I waited for her to speak.

“I just received a call,”

she said.

“From two very worried parents.”

“Oh,”

I said.

I looked down at the table.

I knew she meant my parents.

I knew they must’ve read my Esmeralda letter.

“This happens every year,” she said,

sounding very kind.

“Someone has a tough start to camp.

I’ve thought about your situation,

and I’ve come up with a plan.”

I looked at her serious face.

“Have you heard about the Wall of Feelings?”

she asked.

I nodded.

Hope had told us about it.

Every summer,

girls write down their feelings about camp

and post them on the dining hall wall.

For everyone to see.

“We’re starting the Wall of Feelings tomorrow,”

the director told me.

“I want you to post two pieces there.

One about how you felt

when you wrote that letter home.

And one about how you feel now.

Be absolutely honest, please.

You do not need to include your name.

Lots of people don’t.

But you do have to be honest.

And include pictures!

I’ve heard you’re a good artist.

After that,

if you still want to go home,

you come and tell me.

I’ll give it serious consideration.

How does that sound?”

I thought for a second.

Something worried me.

“If I write honestly about my feelings,”

I said,

“I’ll say bad things.”

“Of course!” she said

with a big smile.

“That’s perfect!

Who wants a Wall of Feelings that only says

‘I love camp,’

‘I love camp’?

That’s boring!

Besides, happiness is only one feeling.

It’s a Wall of Feelings.

Plural.

So you have an important role to play.

Can you do it?”

I nodded.

“Good,” she said.

“Don’t forget.

If you still want to go home,

you let me know.

OK?”

“OK,” I said.

She stood up.

I stood up, too.

“One last thing,” she said.

“Will you please write your parents

a little something positive?

To make them feel better?”

I nodded again.

Then she opened the door and set me free.