Screams echoed through the woods around the towering play fort at Camp Tanasi, where dozens of Girl Scouts in denim shorts and ‘90s-bright T-shirts chased each other over logs and under branches, some shrieking as they ducked and dodged, some cackling with triumph as they tackled other girls to the ground.

I watched the mayhem from my haven inside the fort’s base, receiving periodic dispatches from my deputy, a red-haired, round-faced

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When I was eight and my brother Eric was five we crashed a school bus. Actually, he crashed the bus, I was just a passenger. It was right before the start of summer. The row of buses on the grassy ball-field that doubled as a parking lot were being cleaned and tuned up for the start of camp. We dashed in and out of them – me, Eric, and another little girl, the toddler

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I think I can remember the first time I swam in the ocean. I can definitely remember my first concert (Prince—great) and my first French kiss (back of a school bus in the seventh grade—not so great). If pressed, I can call to mind my first roller coaster ride and the first horror movie that slackened my jaw. But I can't seem to recall my first visit to a shopping mall. I can never pin…

He said he liked my shoes – black Chuck Taylor high tops, neon pink trim. Our first assignment was to do a profile on another student. We'd chosen each other. I liked his blue eyes, dark hair, Ken-doll perfect face, but in my profile I wrote about his academic achievements. In his profile he wrote about my shoes. *** I was seventeen, part of a special band of homeschooled evangelical youth being groomed to Take…