The rest of the school year ended in a blurry yet satisfying culmination,and then it was summer.In the last month of school,I decided to tell my friends the bare minimum of the truth – I would be going away to London to attend a camp,and that was that.January was the only one who knew that there was more to it.I prayed to God above that everything would be okay,and I would return to a happy family in a happy town.Everything would be the same.Dad would be the upbeat father he once was,and I would regain my balance again.I might as well like it while I was there;after all, how bad could it be?One summer of arts and crafts and canoeing would be nice.Though I knew very little about where I was going,I knew that Mr.Chrysanthemum owned a big,fancy house.”Think of it as staying at a five star hotel,”my dad said. “Better yet, think of it as visiting a museum.But don’t go snooping around without permission,”he instructed.I knew he was trying to buy me into the whole idea,but unfortunately for him,I couldn’t be bought.