She didn’t smile.
“Can I speak with you privately?”
My stomach tightened.
“Sure.”
I followed her several steps away from Mia.
Then she said:
“Mia won’t be welcome back next summer.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She isn’t welcome back.”
For a moment, I couldn’t process it.
My daughter had just spent three weeks at the camp she’d dreamed about since she was ten, and the director was telling me she couldn’t return.
“Why?”
Denise hesitated.
“I don’t want kids like her here paying that kind of money.”
My expression changed immediately
“What exactly do you mean by ‘kids like her’?”
Denise realized how badly she’d phrased it.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I mean children who behave the way Mia has been behaving.”
