As I entered the hot, sticky gym to say goodbye on the last day of summer at Camp Glenn Taylor, the air seemed to try to suffocate me. Outside, rain bounced off the sidewalks, forcing campers inside that day. The children didn't notice me at first. They were too busy chasing each other around the gym in the frenzy of being trapped at home for a day. Then someone noticed me and suddenly I was flooded with hugs coming from all directions. Squirming in the arms of the other campers was Savannah. He buried his dirty, snot-covered face into my side. I chuckled to myself, remembering my first day with her three months ago. The counselors had decided to take the campers on a hike. We locked them in the cabin and told them to apply mosquito spray because of all the mosquitoes in the woods. Left and right, little fingers squeezed the spray, gradually covering each body. But not the mischievous Savannah. No, he insisted on carrying his own mosquito spray and eliminating mosquitoes in mid-air. Unfortunately, this also generated a large amount of insect repellent into the air. Every time I took a breath, my lungs filled with noxious fumes. I could feel the bitter air on my tongue. It hurt my eyes. "Savannah," I called, "Stop using that bug spray! It makes me sick!!!" Savannah ran behind a tree and I could hear the “sssssss” of the spray can. "Savannah, I warn you, leave that can alone. Put it on yourself or give it to me. Don't spray it in the air again." I hadn't even finished writing my last sentence when Savannah was running down the path in front of me, out of sight. I breathed a sigh of exasperation. The summer before me suddenly seemed to get longer. Savannah's most distinguishing feature, besides her grumpy personality, is her face. She looks like a pixie or a tree nymph. She has a heart-shaped face, which is dark brown: a combination of tan from many hours spent playing outside and dirty from the same. His almond-shaped eyes are deep and dark, but almost always carry with them a glint of mischief. Her face is framed by long, stringy brown hair that falls below her shoulders. Savannah is a girl of few words, at least in English.