The Parent Traps
by Virareve
"Hurry it up, Dad!" Hanna Tjinder anxiously urged her father from the passenger seat. Her grandpa could outbike her father at this rate, she thought. They would have left home earlier if he hadn't insisted on checking, double checking, and triple checking her luggage before she could even step out the door, then deciding to call his assistant to fetch the latest first-aid kit available for her, and making pit stops in the middle of nowhere. "We're going to be late and I don't want to get stuck in the worst cabin again!"
"Hanna, calm down," Baljeet Tjinder replied with an amused smile. "We're already going at the California speed limit. Don't expect me to go over it." His thirteen year old daughter pulled her head back from the windows and harrumphed in her seat. "I assure you that we will most certainly not be late this time. I took care to calculate our approximate arrival time, accounting for possible weather and traffic conditions…"
He stopped. His daughter was giggling. "Dad, has anyone ever told you what a nerd you are?"
Her father rolled his eyes. Only every day of his life. "A person or two might've mentioned it."
"Well, has anyone ever said that you're probably the smartest person to exist?" she asked playfully, in a way –much to Baljeet's dismay—that was very familiar.
Baljeet tightened his grip on the wheel, turning his face away from his daughter to allow himself a moment to recompose. "I'm sure I've heard it from a few people, but I'm not sure."
It was always one person, he added silently to himself.
Hanna was oblivious to this and she rolled her windows down, opting to stick her head out of the car window and watch the vineyards of Napa Valley speed by in a flash. From the corner of his eyes, Baljeet saw her long, straight, jet black hair blow in every direction. He wondered how she wasn't bothered by it in the least. The chaos of it all, the disorder all around her…he had never dealt with that sort of thing half as well as she did when he had been that age. Still, from all the people he knew, he could only distinctly remember one person who did. And once again, as much as he tried to prevent it, Baljeet was struck by the resemblance. Hanna is clearly her daughter. She's too much like her.
"Holy—!"
Baljeet slammed on his breaks when a deer ran in front of his car. Shaking his head, he cautiously pressed the gas keeping his brown eyes on the winding road ahead. The final route to Camp, leading out of peaceful wine country, was a god-damned deathtrap. Of course, the brightly colored Camp Rainbow Clear! Information packet never mentioned that. It would've been helpful to know, especially in the process of picking a camp for his thirteen year-old daughter (then eleven) to spend her summer at two years ago. If he had known he would have to drive to and from theplace at least twice a year, perhaps he would have revaluated the other summer programs he had looked over.
Hanna sighed. "Dad, pay attention, the deer was clearly visible at least forty feet from the road."
"Then perhaps you should have told me, Hanna…" Baljeet started in an irritated tone. Thinking about her always put him in an off mood.
"Sorry," she apologized with a lifted eyebrow, her father's sudden turn of emotions surprised her. "I was just saying."
"And what have I told you about condescending comments?" he went on, as if it were routine.
"…That they're unnecessary?" Hanna answered, already done with the discussion they had had one too many times. It was like a dull, colorless, overplayed infomercial, one that, Hanna felt, did not pertain to her in the least. She was just making an observation. Just because her father was allergic to anything that put his undies in a twist didn't mean she had to be.
"Correct," Baljeet nodded, knowing he probably hadn't gotten through to his headstrong daughter but still hoping he had. After their three-day cross country drive, his black minivan finally) took a sharp left onto a worn-out dirt road, past the rainbow billboard with the camp's super girly name printed upon it.
"Yes!" Hanna jumped in her seat like a four-year-old on a sugar rush, straining her neck to stare out the window, willing her Dad to speed up so they could arrive all the more quickly. "We're here!" Baljeet gave a small chuckle at his daughter's avid enthusiasm. She really loved it here, and he knew it. Hanna was very picky about the things she cared for, but those things for she which she did, she loved with everything she had.
"Are you sure you're excited?," Baljeet joked. "Maybe I should turn around – " Immediately a dainty but powerful hand whacked his shoulder, followed by outright protest at his clearly light-hearted humor. "Hanna! I'm driving! What have I told you about -?"
"Physical violence is bad, yes. I know, father," she brushed her father's comment away. "Look, there's the parking lot! Go!" With a sigh, he signaled right and sailed smoothly into the parking lot, and then the parking space. The moment the car was parked, Hanna jumped out of the car. She already had one of her bags out of the trunk by the time Baljeet made his way out of the car to help her.
"I can tell you're really going to miss me," he joked, though part of him was a little hurt that Hanna was so eager to leave him for half the summer, even though he knew she didn't mean it that way.
"Hanna!" a brunette counselor approached them; one of many in the parking lot on duty to help campers carry their bags to their respective cabins. She was holding a clipboard.
"Sara!" Hanna greeted her excitedly, with a hug. "Do I have you as a counselor again this year?"
"Sadly, no," Sara said, trying to muster up a sad face, but Baljeet knew better. Last summer his daughter had run for Governor of the kids in the camp's poly-sci program, and from what he could read between the lines of her rendition of her experience was that she and her campaign committee had not only managed to entertain the whole group, but they had also managed to use enough camp materials to leave a major mess, and an additional bill in his mail for "unforeseen expenses." He could tell Sara was beyond relieved to not have to deal with his competitive, overly driven Hana these next several weeks. "You, my dear, are in…" she checked her clipboard. "Bunk 16A. With Maggie. Lucky girl." She made a subtle but noticeable face. "Need help with these bags?"
"Of course!" Hanna agreed. "I can't carry them all myself." Hanna handed Sara one of her two relatively heavy suitcases, taking a backpack and tote for herself.
"Hanna," Baljeet laughed. "Nice try. You can grab that suitcase too." Hanna rolled her eyes and agreed. Sara, content with the fact that she did not, in fact, have to make a second trip, headed in the direction of 16A.
"Well, I guess this is it," Hanna eventually said, turning to her dad. He smiled down at her.
"Looks like it, honey."
"Just so you know," she continued. "I'm going tomiss you a lot." Baljeet and her hugged goodbye knowing how important they were to each other. To Hanna's knowledge, he was all she had left of a family.
"Love you, Hanna," he said as they pulled apart. "Have a great time. You tell those kids how to run our economy."
Hanna smiled, the biggest summer of her life ahead of her. "Not just the economy, I'm totally ready to cover public safety, transportation, and health care this year. My platform's going to be even better. But…" She picked up her bag, "I love you more." and followed Sara. Baljeet watched her go, deep in thought.
"I love you more." The most familiar response of all. But what happens in the past, well, it stays the past.
Baljeet pushed his thoughts away with a shake of his head, got into his car, and made his way out of the parking lot. During his exit, he accidentally cut off another family in a black limousine trying to get in. Their driver, looking affronted, honked harshly at him until he passed through.
Some people have no conduct, he thought bitterly.
Akshaya "Aya" Hirano stared at the setting beyond her car window and tried not to be intimidated. It wasn't the camp itself – Camp Rainbow Clear was a picturesque sanctuary isolated from the society, its frame warm and welcoming – parents hugging their children goodbye, counselors welcoming their keep, and friends sharing smiles. No, it was what the camp meant that made her grip her seat. "It's only two months," she scolded herself, "you'll get to meet all the techs you tell mom about."
She didn't know why she was so nervous to go inside. It wasn't as though her mom had forced her to go– far from it. It was she who begged to come here after hearing about the special program they had set up with a number of preeminent engineers and scientists. But something about how she had heard of the place still did not bode well to her. The fact that she had received an invitation to attend, all the way in Uruguay seemed suspicious, yet the camp was legitimate, and – as she soon found out – considerably prestigious.
"Some people have no class," Uruguayan Ambassador to the Unites States, Ginger Hirano frowned to her daughter, a quiet thirteen year old who sat across from her in the limousine given to her for her use. "Cars are practically all autopilot these days, and yet there are those who still cannot drive."
"Perhaps he didn't know you were trying to get in?" Aya suggested, fingering her long, black hair, her dark eyes, as always, intelligent and innocent behind thin glasses. She deeply pondered her upcoming first sleep-away camp experience, the pros and cons, for the fifth time in the car. It wasn't making the pit in her stomach any smaller though. Ginger nodded, her daughter always a voice of reason when she was not.
"True," she agreed, as she watched a black blob on wheels blur by. Her driver took the car and settled himself over three parking spots, much to the dismay of many annoyed, but curious parents. "He could have taken more care to look though." The car was put into park, and she stepped out gracefully, her daughter coming out carefully behind her. "Alright, honey, let's gather your things." The chauffer took Aya's five suitcases out of the trunk and onto the ground. Ginger patted her forehead with a handkerchief, surprised by the heat outside, pulled back her similar obsidian-colored hair hair, and smiled at Aya, thrown for a moment, as often happened, by how bright her daughter was. Holly always joked that she could smell her little girl's exceptional intellect from a mile away. Of course she knew where it came from, but goodness it was something unbelievable. "Are you excited or what?" Ginger smiled to her daughter.
What, Aya thought. "Being honest," she replied, holding her stomach. "I think I'm going to puke."
Ginger frowned. "Why makes you say that?"
"What if the other girls don't like me?" her daughter voiced her concern shakily. Mature for her age, and considered an outsider where she lived, she consistently had a difficult time relating to kids her own age. She didn't get invited to many parties, nor had she ever been away from home for more than a day, and that was with her aunt, the former president of Uruguay and one of the richest women alive. "What if they tease me? What if -?"
"Good morning, ladies!" A blonde-haired woman approached them, smiling broadly, holding a clipboard. She reminded ginger of one of those old gum commercials. She inwardly cringed. "I'm Maggie. Name, please?"
"This is Akshaya Hirano," Ginger announced proudly. "She's a new 'cleary'."
"But you can call me 'Aya.'" Aya smiled shyly.
"Awesome!" Maggie smiled and scanned her clipboard. "You're going to live in cabin 14A, with Sara. I'll help you with your bags!"
"Thank you," Aya said politely as Maggie picked up three of her five suitcases and headed towards the cabins in the distance. Once she was out of earshot, Ginger turned to Aya and put her hands on her shoulders gently.
"Don't forget, Akshaya ," she began, "You're a Hirano. No one ever makes trouble for one of us. Especially one as fantastic as you." She smiled at her pride and joy. "Now, Aunt Holly highly recommends this camp after some of my old friends' children came here a few years ago. It's an extraordinary place, and you're going to have an amazing time." Ginger did not know just how true this statement would be.
"Do you swear?" Aya asked, testing her mom. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"I swear," Ginger agreed, raising her hand up. "Cross my heart a thousand times over, as long as I don't have to die."
Aya beamed. "Then I believe you."
"That's my daughter!" Ginger pulled Aya into a tight hug. Once she released her, she went on to say, "I love you. Be good. Listen to your counselor. Leave the tech room for more than sleeping and eating, and no online coding or whatever it is you do with your computer after bed."
"Of course, Mom. I love you more." Ginger ruffled Aya's hair, and then watched as she picked up her last suitcases and hurried after Maggie.
"I love you more…" No. She refused to go there. Not then. Not now.
When Aya was out of sight, Ginger turned to her car and noticed the curious onlookers pulling out their phones to take a picture. "Robert, you can take me back the airport now."