Sydney Weaver
Dear Dragon Protecting Cabin 3,
I didn’t want to come to this stupid camp, but I had to because my little sister wanted to come and she wouldn’t go alone. If she was alone, she would wet the bed and people are mean to little girls who wet the bed. I would know, I used to wet the bed. But then I stopped because I grew up. But Sicily isn’t grown up yet. She is a baby. She cries when she doesn’t get what she wants, sucks her thumb when she is tired, and only eats chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. Those are my favorite foods too, but I eat other things like sandwiches with mustard and hamburgers with tomatoes.
I didn’t want to come to this dumb princess camp for many reasons. The first reason was that I hate princesses. I hate them because they have to wear dresses and the dresses are usually pink, which is an ugly color. I also hate them because princesses don’t play sports. I want to try out for the baseball team this summer, but I can’t practice at princess camp because they don’t have a baseball field and nobody will play catch with me. It is very important that I practice for baseball so that I can get a spot on the middle school team. I am in fifth grade so I would be the youngest, but I know boys in my class who are on the middle school team so I know I can do it too.
The second reason why I don’t want to be here is because all the girls want to do is play dress-up and pretend. When we had to go swimming, one girl cried because she didn’t want her hair to get wet. I was standing next to Sicily when the little girl was crying and I told Sicily that if she did that she would get bullied one hundred percent. That made her almost cry so then I told her that it would be fine though because she is a good swimmer so she had nothing to cry about.
We have to write these stupid letters to save for when we are older so we can look back at all the fun we had at princess camp. I decided to write to you instead, Dragon, because I hope that if I write to you that you will come and save me from this stupid camp with its crying girls, pink cabins, and lack-of baseball field. I hope that you will come and fly me away from here, maybe to baseball camp, or even just back home so that I can be with my friends again.
Sincerely,
The Distressed Baseball Player
***
Dear Dragon Protecting Cabin 3 and my only friend,
We got to ride horses today, which was actually really fun. I laughed at one girl who couldn’t even stand inside the pen with the horse because she was scared of it, but then I whispered and told her if she rode the horse, a prince might see her and ask to go for a ride with her. That is something I have to do as an older camper. I have to help the little girls. Most of them are little, like my sister, and they cry a lot. But I don’t cry.
After horseback riding we had tea. I hate tea. The other girls love it. Their slurping was so loud that I could barely hear what the girl next to me was saying, something about horses that have wings. I told her those don’t exist and she stopped talking to me. The girls slurped their tea, ate the tiny sandwiches, and dabbed their faces with thick cloth napkins (pink, of course), while constantly holding their pinkies in the air. I wondered if they did that long enough if their pinkies would ever come back down.
Tea, apparently, was lunch, so for the rest of the day, my stomach growled. Tiny sandwiches aren’t very filling, especially after horseback riding. During our nature walk, I searched for berries that might be edible then stopped myself because that is something a dumb lost princess would do, and then she would get poisoned and fall into a deep sleep. I didn’t want to get poisoned because then the other girls would laugh at me, one hundred percent.
Sicily had to go with a different group during the nature walk because they split us up by age, but I was proud of her because she didn’t cry. When we got back to the cabin she made me close my eyes and put a purple flower in my hair. I was going to take it out, but she told me she picked the purple one because she knew I didn’t like pink. She took another flower and put it in her hair. It was identical to mine but it was pink. I told her she looked pretty and that any prince would definitely save her from the tower. She smiled when I said that.
I don’t like princess camp, but I like being outside. It’s fun. I like riding horses and walking around in nature. Maybe if we wander around enough, we will find a baseball field and I can ask some of the other girls to play with me. But Sicily would say that is just a wish that I can make upon a star. I do hope the lunches aren’t tea every day because I will most likely starve, but maybe they don’t give us big lunches because they have to feed it to you, Dragon. Dragons, like baseball players, have to eat a lot.
Sincerely,
The Baseball Player Who Likes Flowers, But Only The Purple Ones
***
Dear Dragon Protecting Cabin 3 and eating all the lunches,
My little sister wet the bed last night. She didn’t tell me this, but I found out anyway. I found out because I saw her pink Sleeping Beauty underwear hanging on the flag outside Cabin 2. That’s her cabin. They call themselves The Unicorns in her cabin. They are all babies, like my sister. But babies can be mean too. They found Sicily’s dirty underwear under her bed and hung it on their white unicorn flag to make fun of her. I found out because Sicily wasn’t at breakfast. The girl who said she was Sicily’s friend said she was being a baby and hiding in the bathroom. I saw her pink underwear hanging on the flag as I went to the bathroom to find my baby sister. I knew our parents were stupid when they sent us to this camp. I told them Sicily would get bullied for wetting the bed, one hundred percent. They told me Sicily isn’t a baby anymore and knows when she needs to go to the bathroom. I didn’t believe them, and I was right.
I hate pink, and I hate the camp bathrooms even more because everything is pink. The tiles are pink, the walls are another, lighter shade of pink. The stall doors are white, but with everything else that is pink, they might as well be the same color. Why couldn’t everything be blue, or green, or just normal bathroom colors like gray and white? Pink is girly and hurts my eyes. Anyway, Sicily was hiding in the last stall and I knocked. I asked her why she was hiding in the bathroom like a baby. She said “I’m not a baby,” but I could hear her sobs. Only babies cry, I told her, and she threw something at the door. I rolled my eyes and crawled under the door. Only babies throw tantrums, only babies wet the bed, I told her, and she looked at me with evil eyes. I sometimes wonder, Dragon, what your eyes look like, and then I see Sicily’s evil eyes and think that this must be what your eyes look like. Full of fire and anger, because you are stuck here too. That must be the only reason you are here. You are forced to be here, in this pink world with crying babies in bathroom stalls.
“You should stop crying,” I told Sicily. She stuck her tongue out at me and I told her she was being a baby. I asked her why she wet the bed and didn’t go to the bathroom. She told me it was because there was a monster outside. All the girls in her cabin told her about a monster that sneaks around the camp at night and gobbles up little girls who aren’t in their cabins. I told her that was silly and there are no such things as monsters who gobble up little girls. Only babies believe that. Sicily is in a cabin full of babies, but she is the babiest out of them all. Not because she wets the bed and cries, but because she just turned six. All the other girls are almost seven, or at least six and a half. Sicily is pretty much five and three halves.
“There is too such thing as monsters, I saw it last night,” Sicily told me and I rolled my eyes. Yeah right. There are no monsters. The girls in Cabin 3 go out every night to do I-don’t-know-what, but I stay inside and write to you during those times, Dragon. Sicily told me that she saw the monster sneak past her window and then she hid in her sleeping bag, which is also pink. I shook my head. Monsters aren’t real, I would know because I’m grown up and know these things. I told her that she should believe what I say over what babies say. She sniffled and I hugged her then told her that there were strawberries and waffles at breakfast. I knew that made her happy because her dragon-eyes went away. She loves strawberries and waffles.
We walked back to breakfast and I let her sit at the big kid table with Cabin 3. I saw the Unicorns from the baby cabin watching her. I wonder what monster they were talking about. Maybe it is you, Dragon, and they just don’t understand that you protect the cabins. Maybe they made up the story to scare Sicily because they know she is a baby. Maybe you don’t need to protect my cabin, Dragon. Maybe you need to protect the Unicorns in Cabin 2 because they are babies, and babies can’t protect themselves from the make-believe monsters at night.
Sincerely,
The Current Protector of the Baby Unicorns
***
Dear Dragon protecting Cabin 3 and hopefully also Cabin 2,
Sicily should know that there are no such things as monsters. But she doesn’t because she is a baby, so to prove to her that monsters aren’t real, I decided to go behind Cabin 2 and show her. The only thing behind Cabin 2 was trees with a small trail that we use sometimes for nature walks. In the soft mud next to the cabin were some small hoof prints, but definitely not something from a monster. “See, footprints,” Sicily said, spotting the tracks. I told her that she was just being a dumb baby because those couldn’t have come from a monster and that they were actually hoof prints from probably a deer or something. I knew this, because I am her older sister and I know things, just like how I know that there is no such thing as monsters.
Sicily wanted to follow the trail. I told her that was dumb and I was already getting hungry. We had just had tea, which is, in fact, lunch every day. And apparently, it is not princess-like to eat ten mini sandwiches in one sitting. So, at this point I was hungry. Sicily whined and said if I wanted to prove to her that there was no monster, we would march into the forest. I rolled my eyes and stepped onto the trail, telling her that this was dumb. She said it is something brave princesses would do.
At breakfast that morning, Sicily had described the monster to us. The babies from the Unicorn Cabin glared at her. She told us how it stomped around on all fours, crushing leaves and sticks under its giant feet. The hoof prints behind Cabin 2 were definitely not from a monster. She told us that it came from the trail behind the cabin and one of the girls at my table laughed. She asked how Sicily could see where the monster came from if it was dark outside. “I saw it because it had glowing eyes,” Sicily said and continued on with her story. I thought it sounded like a made-up, baby thing to talk about, but I didn’t tell Sicily that because if I did then she would cry and all the other girls would make fun of her one hundred percent. Well, more than they already were. One of the older girls laughed and called Sicily a baby when she told them how she hid under her sleeping bag with Rufus, her stuffed dragon. She almost started crying at that but I gave her my last waffle and she stopped.
My stomach grumbled louder as we walked farther into the forest. Sicily stopped. “I think I heard a monster growl. Did you hear?” I told her she was being ridiculous and it was just my stomach and that we should turn around already because there was no monster. She whined and told me I wasn’t being any fun and stomped farther into the forest. I followed her until she stopped at a patch of flowers. The same dumb pink and purple flowers she had found last time. She handed me a purple one and told me to put it in my hair. I asked if I put it in my hair if she would turn around. I thought about telling her about you, Dragon. About how you live in the camp, but then she would insist that we go see you, and I wouldn’t know how to explain that you actually aren’t real either. She finally agreed to turn around, stomping her feet all the way back to camp.
Sincerely,
The Baseball Player Who Still Only Kind Of Likes Flowers and Doesn’t Believe In Monsters
***
Dear Dragon Apparently Only Protecting Cabin 3 Because If You Were Protecting Cabin 2 Then Sicily Wouldn’t Have Gone Missing Last Night,
Sicily snuck off last night, or maybe this morning, either way, she’s dumb. Apparently, she wasn’t satisfied with our hike yesterday and decided to prove me wrong, which is such a baby thing to do. But I should have known because at dinner she was super quiet and didn’t even eat her pudding. She loves pudding. The only foods she eats are macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, and pudding. Chocolate pudding to be exact.
I was pretty sure when I didn’t see Sicily at breakfast that she was just being a crybaby about not finding the monster, but then I didn’t see her at tea either, and she loves tea. She thinks the sandwiches are cute. I asked the girl who says she is Sicily’s friend and she said she hadn’t seen her at all and thought she was with me.
I should have known Sicily was going to sneak out last night because she turned to me after we got back to camp from looking for the non-existent monster and stomped her foot. I told her to stop being a baby and “what are you going to do if you find the monster, there is no such thing as princes so don’t count on them to save you”. She started to cry, and I rolled my eyes at her before going to find something to eat. It’s very difficult at this camp, Dragon, because you eat all the food.
I storm out of the cafeteria and run to the Unicorn Cabin. Her stupid pink sneakers are gone. She is such a stupid baby sometimes. Why would she go out by herself? When I tell our parents about what she did, she is going to be in so much trouble. I march to the trail behind the cabin and see a sparkly pink bead from the stupid charm bracelet Sicily made on the first day of camp. She made her bracelet with glittery pink beads. I told her it looked like something a princess would wear. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen.
I shove the bead into my pocket and walk into the forest. Stupid baby, going into the woods by herself. I wipe my face of angry tears. At least she learned something from Hansel and Gretel, which isn’t a dumb princess movie. She doesn’t know what’s out here, Dragon. What if you found her and didn’t know she was one of the princesses at camp? It’s such a dumb princess thing to do, go out into the woods alone and leave a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.
I go farther into the woods and feel my heart thud against my ribs. I’m so angry at Sicily because since she is being a dumb baby, I had to skip lunch-tea. She is so dumb for going into the woods alone. When we get home, I’m going to tell my parents and they’ll definitely ground her for a week, and she will deserve it, one hundred percent.
I follow the beads deeper to where the trail gets smaller and the trees get thicker. Am I even on the trail anymore? I yell Sicily’s name and wipe away tears that are trying to fall. My heart slams so hard against my chest that I’m scared I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m not a baby but I’m definitely not old enough to have a heart attack. What if she’s lost, or what if a bear found her, or she walked so far that she got too tired to turn around. What if she’s crying like a little baby because she got trapped by an evil witch that gobbles up princesses who leave breadcrumbs?
I walk faster and wonder if maybe Sicily found a monster. But I stop myself. That’s impossible because monsters don’t exist. You don’t even exist, Dragon. You’re just my made-up friend because I don’t want to be friends with anyone at this dumb camp. I shouldn’t even be at this dumb camp looking for my dumb baby sister who snuck out to find a make-believe monster. She wouldn’t have snuck out if you were a real, Dragon. If you were real, she would have found the monster—she would’ve found you. Then she wouldn’t have to sneak off into the woods looking for a fake monster. It’s your fault she snuck off because you aren’t protecting the Unicorns.
The beads turn to flowers that alternate pink and purple. I walk faster, almost running. The trees begin to open up and the trail stops, ending in a pile of flowers at the edge of a rainbow field. Giant sunflowers, more pink and purple flowers, red poppies, and daisies are littered throughout the field. I yell Sicily’s name again and hear a high-pitched scream echo through the air. I take off through the field, the pile of flowers at the edge exploding from my feet as I sprint toward the scream.
I stop in the middle of the field, just outside a circle of daisies where Sicily is playing in the dirt with a small squirrel scurrying up and down her arm. “What on Earth were you thinking? You could have gotten lost!” I yell at her and collapse to my knees.
“I found the monster, Abbi!” She holds out her arm and the squirrel jumps off and disappears into the grass. “Never do that again!” I pull her close. My tears soak her dirt-covered sweater, and I hold her tight, refusing to ever let go.
Sincerely,
The Real Protector of The Unicorns
Sydney Weaver is a creative writing major from Park City, Utah. She is a senior on the Rocky Mountain College ski team and has been published in the second and third issues of The Rocky Mountain Review.
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