(Early June)
"How the mighty have fallen."
Kamala hadn't been in detention since her Spencer Beach days; yet the situation felt nostalgic and oddly comfortable. Like an article of clothing that still somehow fits despite not being worn in years. Taking advantage of Principal Cheryl Casswell's absence, she flips her seat backwards and rests her arms on the top back. Her face glowers in boredom as she mindlessly gazes at the seemingly empty seat in the office. The operative word being "seemingly". For lounging with equal carelessness in the other armchair was the image of herself at age 12, back when such visits were par for the course when it came to her academic journey at Ocean Avenue Junior High.
Rather than be shocked by the sudden phantasmagorical shadow of her younger self, the present Kamala powerlessly let it mock her. After all, this specter had been following her around for about seven months which is plenty of time to have gotten used to it being there.
The ghost girl looked up and down at Kamala. The sneer of disgust on its face spoke volumes about what would become of her future self in four years' time.
"What an annoying little goody two-shoes. What a dopey little dreamer. What a corny little cornball. Did we get caught with bubblegum, or did you blurt out one too many answers?" The younger Kamala inquires sardonically of her older counterpart before sighing with bitter nostalgia. "Not like the old days of fist-fights with other students or creating stories/pictures of a violent nature. Gotten soft, haven't we? [You're] like a house cat, or a toy knife that somehow got dulled and rusted."
To (metaphorically) drive her point home, the pugnacious poltergeist prods at Kamala's stomach. But before she could reply to this ethereal manifestation of herself, the door stepped open and Principal Casswell took her rightful seat behind the desk. Her lips pursed with deep disappointment as she looked over the teacher's account detailing the nature of this visit as well as everything else leading up to it.
Her grades remained solid, but there was a noticeable dip.
She remained cordial to the faculty and her peers, yet there was an air of reservation to her actions.
Then there was her newfound habit of staring into space and consequent obliviousness to the world around her.
But the big out-of-character moment came with Kamala's classmates airing out their summer plans. And when the cacophony of backpacking around Belgium, snorkeling off the coast of Saint Martin and volunteering at a church camp in Pennsylvania around the 4th of July became too much for her to bear, the normally easily going girl flipped her desk upside down after emitting a roar comparable to that of a hydrogen bomb detonating.
After what felt like ages, Principal Casswell cleared her throat.
"I get that this time in anyone's life can be stressful young lady… yet of all the students possible, I never thought I'd ever see you in my office."
"Well how peachy." Kamala shot back. "And let me guess, you made a cute little phone call to mommy about how naughty I've been today?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, because they're at the OBGYN today-
"Pfft. Figures." Kamala scoffed.
"-they sent your uncle in their stead. He should be on his way in…(Principal Casswell glances out the parking lot)…oh, he just pulled up."
Even from the window, Kamala could tell the figure of the blonde ovular headed man was 'not mad but disappointed' personified. He had a determined hustle as he strolled to the entrance, his brow was gently furrowed at having his day interrupted, His lips alternated between pursed in frustration and quick exhales that would in theory calm him down. In a matter of minutes, he seats himself next to Kamala in the other chair offered by the Principal's office.
"Dr. Arnold Shortman."
"Cheryl. Good to see you…(he immediately turns his attention to his niece, not angry with her but disappointed)…so, would you like to tell me what happened this afternoon?"
"What happened? What do you mean? Me? Nah, I'm fine." Kamala said bitingly. "I mean it's almost summer after all. I got a whole vacation until I begin senior year and we all get lost up our own keisters with college prep and campus tours and all that candy-ass graduation stuff…"
As his niece vented, Arnold nodded slowly; all too aware of what the problem was.
(Earlier)
"But that's the thing Arnold. With Lila's due date being in the middle of July, our annual trip to Spencer Beach is most likely going to be put on hold…and as much as she'd been a trooper, I know this is going to shatter her heart…"
"Yes. Yes." He replied forlornly while giving ear to his sister-in-law's quandary. From the vantage point of being both her former therapist and now Uncle, he knew what the Pataki-Sawyer pilgrimage to Spencer Beach meant to Kamala psychologically: a chance to process and make peace with being on the other side, so to speak, of tourist season for a large part of her life. Her chance to live out the life she had seen others live summer in and summer out, but with the perspective that the people who lived there weren't part of the attraction so to speak, but all too real and all too dependent on the boorish goobers who partied hardy from May to September.
"And she's been such a trooper through it all so far."
"Even with the grades and behavior."
"Well…I don't want to say 'can you blame her' but…well…she's a good kid through it all. In a weird way, this battle she's going through shows what a thoughtful and mature young lady you've fostered. But still, there's only so much change a person can deal with…"
An idea suddenly hit Arnold.
"Ok. Let me run this by you. The therapy center where I work has been bugging me about all the vacation days I've been banking-"
"-and where else would be more appropriate than a trip to Spencer Beach?" Arnold said before his tone became darkened with disappointment. "I was hoping to tell you after school under better circumstances…"
Whatever fury and apathy Kamala felt deflated abruptly as it registered just how much of an ass she had been in assuming the Spencer Beach vacation had been yet another casualty of welcoming her brother. Looking to save face, she began to babble apologies, to which her uncle held up her hand to silence her.
"Cheryl. What is her overall grade point average as of right now?"
"B-." She said. "But there are still three more final assignments left before we submit final grades at the end of the school year-"
"Then that settles it." Arnold said lovingly but firmly. "My original offer to have you come along with Helga, Eleanor, Cecile and I for the summer still stands…that is, provided those last three assignments come back with at least an A- AND you don't get in any more major trouble. Have we got a deal?"
"Yes." Kamala said. "You can count on me."
"Good." The principal said. "You may go back to class."
As the door slammed shut behind the two of them, Cheryl turned to Arnold.
"You know she's gonna pass right?"
"I have no doubt. My niece has always been a smart cookie, even before being adopted. But it's not a matter of academics. It's a matter of having something to reach for.
(Outside)
Though Kamala waked back to class with a newfound sense of purpose, the pouty preadolescent poltergeist representing her more caustic self followed mockingly in tow.
"yoU cAn cOunT oN mE unKa' R-noLD. Do you even realize you've begun to sound like some pathetic Sunday School cartoon come to life?"
Turning abruptly into the girl's room, Kamala lead the ghost of her former self into a booth. Giving the privy a final glance to make sure the two of them were truly alone, she locks the door and turns seriously to herself.
"You know what, shut up. Ok? Just. Shut. Up. Unlike you, I actually look forward to having a summer break, especially knowing 'Unka R-nold' as you've ever so lovingly dubbed him has given me a chance to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. He'd given me a map of the high road and BY! GUM! I'm going to take it; even if it means you kicking and screaming all the way. Got it?"
Marching back to the classroom, Kamala left the younger version of herself to stew in the wake of what she had told her. But instead, she stared with eyes half lidded and leaned against the stall and scoffed to herself.
"The high road. How well did taking it the last time work out for you again?"