((Demi lives in Norway in this story :P))
It was always super-boring to come home from camp. Not only because you were no longer surrounded by tons of people, and your best friends were no longer with you. You're alone. No more laugh-attacks, running around, or pillow-fights.
But this year was worse than usual. It wasn't only boring to come home, it was disappointing, sad, depressing. Heart-breaking. First you might want to know a few things.
I used to live in a small valley, when I was a kid, and had a boy best-friend, and for as long as I could remember, he'd had a crush on me. But it never really grew into anything; I guess we were just busy being friends, or whatever. What I didn't realize, was that I liked him too, but it was too late. My parents divorced in 4th grade, and in 5th grade I moved, with my mom, sister and stepdad. I hated it at the new school, and fortunately we moved two years later, without my stepdad, and in 7th grade I went to a new school. I was still crushing on him. Since 3rd grade I'd been going to this local camp, up in the valley where I lived before. Pretty much everyone my age from that valley went there, so it was a perfect way to see how my old besties were doing, and I managed to get some new friends along too.
In 9th grade, when I was 14, two friends joined me, and we went to camp.