<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/52/Mirapatel.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Disha Kaur<br/><strong>Player:</strong>Kitteredge<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Camp check in<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Day one, 8:30 A.M.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>dark track pants, white Adidas sneaks, loose sweater she plans to doff soon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>open<br/><strong>Action:</strong>getting rid of her parents<br/><br/>"Boys?" Mr. Kaur expressed, peered over the steering wheel. "I see no boys here."<br/><br/>Disha's father was not a large man, rotund, with most of his dark skull exposed. Also, furry knuckles, one of which he raised to wag his finger. "This is very good. No distractions from the responsibilities of being a good citizen of this country.<em>And</em>to have some fun."<br/><br/>Her mother leaned forward, as well, unable to contain the reserve she had established in the drive through New York state. "Oh, no, there's a boy! Jagadish, a boy, right there." A pause. "Oh, no, it's also a girl! How very strange. She would be quite pretty if she grew her hair out, if I were the one to be asked."<br/><br/>In the backseat, with her rucksack next to her and the rest of the baggage in the truck of the ancient, spotless Mercedes, the last of the Kaur clan sat and rolled her eyes. Nevertheless, Disha was as aroused with curiosity as her parents. Detesting the idea of a summer camp, she submitted, regardless, both because, despite their vocalizations otherwise, she really was a good daughter, and because of the carrot at the end of the stick: she'd become a bit wild in the last school year and knew that regaining the freedom she'd lost required doing at least the bare minimum.<br/><br/>Looking out the window: a bunch of white girls. "My darling," her mother continued, "Please. Listen to me. If there is an adjacent camp for boys, you mustn't consort with them. Truly. I have seen the movies. They are filled with underwear and other unfortunate things. Learn some of their songs and to... cook hot dogs. You'll be quite disappointed: there are no black boys here."<br/><br/>The last rankled Disha more than anything; she'd dated, briefly, one of the guys on the basketball team, a sweet, nerdy boy named Chris, and never heard the end of it. It would have been the same had she dated a white guy... maybe. "Mom, please," she pouted, wanting to kick her way out of the window. Instead, she settled down, sighed, and watched the small squadron of girls greeting each other. "It'll be fine. We'll sing kumbaya and sew those, whatever, the dream catcher things."<br/><br/>"I would like to talk with the director," her father said, cranking the parking brake, and there ensued a discussion of how Mrs. Kaur spoke extensively with "Miss Kincaid" and had assurances that no alcohol (or worse) would cross the camp grounds, nor bad language, nor anything remotely sexual between males and females. "She was a wonderful person, quite knowledgeable."<br/><br/>Finally, with understanding that her father disliked disembarking for drives, wanting to turn back immediately, Disha yawned into the morning light. "I got this. Seriously, M & D, I'll text and call and write every night, I swear. Say hi to my sibs. You can see everything's just dandy." Scrambling out, she leaned into the driver's side window to give a kiss, intercepted her mother as she was getting out for the same, and retrieved her bags. After some fierce discussion, she finally got her twin helicopters to fly away.<br/><br/>She turned. This was going to be fine. It was just a couple weeks or so.<br/>