{"id":2204,"date":"2014-08-29T06:38:20","date_gmt":"2014-08-29T13:38:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/?p=2204"},"modified":"2015-06-09T08:28:23","modified_gmt":"2015-06-09T15:28:23","slug":"summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/","title":{"rendered":"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys"},"content":{"rendered":"

During August I\u2019m blogging about Our Lady of the Hills Camp near Hendersonville, North Carolina\u2013now owned by Highland Lake Inn<\/a>. I transplanted the camp to a Florida beach town for my novel, Kicking Eternity. E-copies on sale this weekend for .99!<\/strong> An excerpt appears at the bottom of this post.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"img062\"<\/a>

Me in 1977<\/p><\/div>\n

After pulling the overnight waitress shift at a Daytona Beach HoJo\u2019s for a month\u2014just me and a big black ex-con flipping burgers\u2014camp never sounded better. But I hadn\u2019t counted on a different kind of danger driving into Our Lady of the Hills in 1977 in the back of Father McSweeney\u2019s station wagon.<\/p>\n

A car load of boys\u2014all attitude and dirty blonde hair\u2014from Charlotte Catholic High School oozed onto the dirt in front of the dining hall like liquid sex.<\/p>\n

Our high pitched voices silenced in the middle of words.<\/p>\n

Saturday Night Fever<\/em> played from somebody\u2019s transistor radio in the gazebo where we stood.<\/p>\n

The guys slung their duffles over their shoulders, barely nodded to us, and hiked past like they were about to serve ten weeks of hard labor.<\/p>\n

I think I singed my eyelashes just watching them saunter by the office and up the hill.<\/p>\n

As chatter swelled in the gazebo, I took a deep breath. The air smelled of pine, grilled cheese, and change.<\/p>\n

Eddie Falcone had graduated from law school and disappeared into life. The camp boys we\u2019d grown up with had stayed home to lifeguard or work on road crews. Father McSweeney\u2019s boys and a couple of malcontents from Camp St. John, our shoddy sister camp in Florida, would take their place.<\/p>\n

Sure, we\u2019d still sing Edelweiss for grace and make pilgrimages to Carl Sandburg\u2019s Connemara. We\u2019d rinse our hair in cold North Carolina water to make it shine. We\u2019d eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with whole milk and green Jell-O.<\/p>\n

But nothing would seem right this year.<\/p>\n

Mid-summer, I stood on the office porch, trying to ignore the two Charlotte Catholic staffers flirting with several female counselors on the road below. A queasy mix of desire and fear sloshed in my stomach.<\/p>\n

I squinted at the far side of the athletic field.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Catfish in hat, Wes Eisenburg beside Fish, my brother, R.J., back row left<\/p><\/div>\n

Catfish, aka Mike Alewine, one of the Camp St. John defectors and an undergrad at the University of Florida, wielded a mop like a drum major at the front of a scraggly string of campers.<\/p>\n

I jogged down the steps and across the road, careful to skirt ten feet around the Charlotte temptations.<\/p>\n

Behind Fish, two shyly grinning campers, a boy and a girl, trotted to keep up while balancing foil-covered Burger King crowns atop their heads. Bath towels were tied around their shoulders and they carried cans of Spam.<\/p>\n

The girls\u2019 counselor brought up the rear, doing her best to copy Fish\u2019s antics.<\/p>\n

The other campers hip-hip-hoorayed as they snaked between the counselors.<\/p>\n

I waved at my little brother, R.J., and tried to decide if he\u2019d changed his shirt since yesterday.<\/p>\n

The girls peeled off toward archery and the boys followed Fish\u2019s Floridian co-counselor, Wes, to the Canteen.<\/p>\n

Fish collapsed on the grass, spread-eagled between the pitcher\u2019s mound and home plate.<\/p>\n

I fended off the backstop and walked over to him. \u201cYou made those kids nobody would have noticed feel great.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sat up and shrugged as though the event were nothing special. \u201cAt Camp St. John\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

I held up my hand. \u201cDon\u2019t ruin it.\u201d I\u2019d already heard enough about Camp St. John.<\/p>\n

Fish had spent his summers making the Florida campers believe he was half catfish by diving into the St. John\u2019s River and hiding under the dock until the kids became believers. He\u2019d zipped along the river on a yellow motorcycle, teaching archery and riflrey, staging vegetable boycotts, inciting his charges to ditch crafts to raid the kitchen or ogle the girls in the swimming pool.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Highland [aka Madonna] Lake<\/p><\/div>Fish blew on a blade of grass between his thumbs, a skill he\u2019d teach his boys to attract mountain lions.<\/p>\n

When he perfected the technique, we discussed his obscure bands\u2014Ian Hunter, Mott the Hoople, Jethro Tull\u2014my lousy tennis backhand, and Thursday night\u2019s mass.<\/p>\n

Sunny silence settled between us.<\/p>\n

Fish leaned up on his elbows. \u201cYou know, I almost became a priest.\u201d<\/p>\n

Somehow I wasn\u2019t surprised. Even I\u2019d considered the convent.<\/p>\n

Fish spoke of Father Foley\u2019s belief in him, how he\u2019d been spurred to follow his mentor\u2019s vocation.<\/p>\n

I gulped a mouth full of sunshine and courage, then told my story for the first time.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d stared at Jesus on the cross in the chancel my whole life, but I\u2019d always seen His forgiveness as a ginormous blanket over everybody. A Baptist at Florida Southern College where I\u2019d just finished my freshman year pointed out that Jesus died for Ann\u2019s<\/em> sins. I had to believe that included the real sins underneath the sanitized ones I created in Confession.<\/p>\n

I shot a glance at Fish to make sure I hadn\u2019t shocked him, but his thick brows scrunched together in concentration.<\/p>\n

Protestants at college said odd things like if I\u2019d turn over my romantic life to God, He\u2019d pick out the one<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Geez. Whoda thunk? Since I\u2019d only dated a frat guy for five minutes after dating Mike Smith last summer, it didn\u2019t seem like much of a sacrifice. By the end of first semester I dumped the other categories of my life into God\u2019s lap for Him to run.<\/p>\n

Now, instead of wondering if God read my letters, I saw Him answer in subtle ways\u2014gut feelings, circumstances, truths I spotted in the Bible. He was still invisible, but somehow more literally present.<\/p>\n

I peered at Fish, trying to gauge whether he thought I was a wing nut.<\/p>\n

But he stood to join his boys as they filed past. \u201cGod as micro-manager. I like it.\u201d He grabbed the mop and drum majored double-time to catch up to his boys.<\/p>\n

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted one of my friends walking into the gym, shoulder to shoulder with a Charlotte Catholic bad boy. Maybe if I wasn\u2019t such a chicken that could be me.<\/p>\n

\"img063\"<\/a>

I’m in back row, 2nd from left<\/p><\/div>\n

As summer wound down, my girls told Mrs. Duemmling to shoot our cottage photo in front of the Virgin Mary.<\/p>\n

I arched a brow at them, not sure what they were up to.<\/p>\n

They said the picture was in my honor. Then, they pressed their palms together and smiled beatifically at the camera.<\/p>\n

\"OLH<\/a>

Me in front of the OLH Virgin Mary, Highland Lake Inn, Summer 2013<\/p><\/div>\n

After the photo, I blinked wetness from my eyes and hugged them all, feeling like one of Fish\u2019s Spam Queens.<\/p>\n

I hate endings\u2014sunsets, autumn, and good-byes, but they happen whether I\u2019m ready or not.<\/p>\n

Multiple friends had been charmed out of their innocence by the bad boys. One took home Charlotte Catholic DNA to gestate, birth, and own her heart forever. Girls like me, chock full of Daddy issues, usually cop to sex, but this year cowardice counted for something other than a character flaw.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know this off-kilter summer was my good-bye to being a kid, camp, and Catholicism.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know God tacked so much happy history to the tail end of a sad childhood.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know, nearly forty years later, I\u2019d roll over and find Our Lady of the Hills, my Catholic roots, Catfish, and a cadre of camp friends still curled up in my heart.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sign up to get my blogs in your e-mail at right!<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Type your e-mail address in the box, then click on \u201cSubscribe.\u201d <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Enter during August to win a paperback copy of Kicking Eternity<\/em> here<\/a>.\"Kicking<\/a><\/span><\/strong> [Excerpt below.]<\/p>\n

ON SALE THIS WEEKEND FOR .99!<\/strong><\/p>\n

Back Cover:<\/span><\/p>\n

Stuck in sleepy New Smyrna Beach one last summer, Raine socks away her camp pay checks, worries about her druggy brother, and ignores trouble: Cal Koomer. She\u2019s a plane ticket away from teaching orphans in Africa, and not even Cal\u2019s surfer six-pack and the chinks she spies in his rebel armor will derail her.<\/p>\n

The artist in Cal begs to paint Raine\u2019s ivory skin, high cheek bones, and internal sparklers behind her eyes, but falling for her would caterwaul him into his parents\u2019 life. No thanks. The girl was self-righteous waiting to happen. Mom served sanctimony like vegetables, three servings a day, and he had a gut full.<\/p>\n

Rec Director Drew taunts her with \u201cRainey\u201d and calls her an enabler. He is so infernally\u00a0there\u00a0like a horsefly\u2014till he buzzes back to his ex.<\/p>\n

Raine\u2019s brother tweaks. Her dream of Africa dies\u00a0small deaths.\u00a0Will she figure out what to fight for and what to free before it\u2019s too late?<\/p>\n

For anyone who\u2019s ever wrestled with their dreams.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Click on the covers for info on my books.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Avra's<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0 <\/a>\"Tattered<\/a>\u00a0 \"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kicking Eternity<\/em> excerpt:<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A downpour sheeted against the classroom windows cutting Cal and Raine off from the world. He heard water running in the tin drainpipe on the corner of the building. The room was dark except for the shop light he\u2019d clamped to his easel and the lamp bathing Raine in amber.<\/p>\n

He dipped his brush in the white smear of paint on his pallet and added faint smudges of light to her face. She was staring at the window behind him\u2014praying, he was certain. There was an other-worldly glow about her. What if it was Raine\u2019s spirituality that attracted him? But Raine had sexuality, too. Maybe one didn\u2019t rule out the other.<\/p>\n

He concentrated on her face, making sure he captured the freckles dusted across her nose and the tops of her cheeks\u2014so tiny, most people wouldn\u2019t know they were there. He moved the easel closer to Raine.<\/p>\n

The lashes that framed her eyes were lush, hiding the person he almost missed under the homeschool-Bible college banner. His mind flicked to Aly\u2019s spare, pale lashes which hid nothing.<\/p>\n

Forest green shaded with lime had worked for Raine\u2019s eyes. He would add sparks of maize later. Now, he dotted pinpricks of white on her irises, the light that came from inside. What was it? Purity? He couldn\u2019t label it, but he could paint it.<\/p>\n

\u201cPainting Raine in the rain.\u201d His voice felt rusty from not talking all evening.<\/p>\n

Her eyes found his. \u201cCute.\u201d She went back to staring at the water he could hear sluicing down the window behind him.<\/p>\n

The rain beat down relentlessly. It didn\u2019t sound like it would let up till morning. For a little while he would stretch a sheet across the future so he couldn\u2019t see the impossibility of loving Raine\u2014a girl with fire for God and Africa when he was a guy with fire for neither.<\/p>\n

His gut reached out to Raine, bonding with her in the silence\u2014almost against his will. He wanted to touch her.<\/p>\n

Funny. He\u2019d finally held Aly, something he\u2019d wanted to do the first few years he knew her. The steam had gone out of the experience like a hot iron on a damp cloth. After the steam quit, you had to get out of there before you got scorched.<\/p>\n

Would Aly laugh at him if she knew he was a virgin? It was probably Mom\u2019s fault. The chastity pep talks she gave him with annoying regularity. She\u2019d married Dad when she was eighteen. Why was he twenty-two and still buying her rhetoric? He was a carton of milk four years past expiration. But a guy didn\u2019t have<\/em> those kinds of thoughts about a girl like Raine\u2014at least not ones that made him feel good about himself.<\/p>\n

Her dark hair flipped up and away from her face. He wanted to get the Godiva dark chocolate color right, the strands of black, and deep henna when the sun caught it.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you mind?\u201d He reached for her hair and rubbed it between two fingers. Coarse, like corn silk.<\/p>\n

He stood and crossed the small space between them. \u201cMay I?\u201d He splayed his fingers at her hairline around her face.<\/p>\n

Her chin tilted up toward him, her eyes wide with questions he didn\u2019t know the answers to.<\/p>\n

He ran his fingers through her hair toward the nape of her neck. Part of his mind registered strands of her hair spooning together like couples at the beach. Other strands struck out alone, each with its own kinks and bends unique to itself. But mostly, he was caught by her full, dusty rose lips he\u2019d taken such pains to translate into paint. They were slightly parted now as she sucked in a breath. Her cheeks filled with color, and he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. He cupped her face in his hands. He leaned closer and stopped, waiting to see if she was a girl with rules against kissing.<\/p>\n

Raine eased her chin from his grasp and he let his hands fall, disappointment weighing him down like a chest full of medals he didn\u2019t want to wear. He sat back on the edge of the table. The drum of the rain softened, moved on.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re beautiful.\u201d He let the air out of his lungs. \u201cThat\u2019s the artist talking.\u201d His eyes bored into hers. \u201cAnd the man.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her color deepened. She looked down at her lap and back up at him. He reached out and stroked her cheek with knuckles. \u201cEver think about staying?\u201d<\/p>\n

Unshed tears sheened her eyes.<\/p>\n

His hand dropped to his side \u201cWhat are we going to do, Raine?\u201d<\/p>\n

The lodge screen door banged and heavy footsteps came down the hall. Drew walked in reaching for the light switch. He stopped with his hand in the air. \u201cOh. I thought somebody left the light on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Drew glanced at him. His gaze traveled to Raine and stopped. Then, he looked at the painting that was facing the doorway. He could feel the seconds tick off while Drew stared at the portrait. Like someone reading over your shoulder, he didn\u2019t want Drew looking at Raine\u2019s painting\u2014ever. But it was too late now.<\/p>\n

Drew turned around without saying a word and left. His footfalls moved down the hall, then nothing, not even the banging of the screen door against the door jam.<\/p>\n

The sound of the rain stopped and, with it, the sense of intimacy.<\/p>\n

Raine stood and stretched. \u201cLet\u2019s clean your brushes.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Enter to win a free paperback version of Kicking Eternity here<\/a> or purchase info for electronic and paper versions here. <\/a><\/em>E-copies on sale this weekend for .99!<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"1908052_841484999195521_142608217294699551_n\"<\/a>

Cottage F in 2014<\/p><\/div>\n

\"10454435_826201110723910_3387496463686555122_n\"<\/a>

Highland Lake, 2014<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

During August I\u2019m blogging about Our Lady of the Hills Camp near Hendersonville, North Carolina\u2013now owned by Highland Lake Inn. I transplanted the camp to a Florida beach town for my novel, Kicking Eternity. E-copies on sale this weekend for .99! An excerpt appears at the bottom of this post.   After pulling the overnight […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2212,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[2,340,66,339],"tags":[112,113,114,116,108,115,105],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nSummer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys - Ann Lee Miller<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys - Ann Lee Miller\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"During August I\u2019m blogging about Our Lady of the Hills Camp near Hendersonville, North Carolina\u2013now owned by Highland Lake Inn. I transplanted the camp to a Florida beach town for my novel, Kicking Eternity. E-copies on sale this weekend for .99! An excerpt appears at the bottom of this post.   After pulling the overnight […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Ann Lee Miller\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2014-08-29T13:38:20+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2015-06-09T15:28:23+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"800\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"644\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Ann Lee Miller\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Ann Lee Miller\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"13 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/\",\"name\":\"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys - Ann Lee Miller\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1\",\"datePublished\":\"2014-08-29T13:38:20+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2015-06-09T15:28:23+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#\/schema\/person\/0c6315623cc1435f5aee5a884e61776e\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1\",\"width\":800,\"height\":644},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/\",\"name\":\"Ann Lee Miller\",\"description\":\"Author, Speaker, & Blogger Extraordinaire\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#\/schema\/person\/0c6315623cc1435f5aee5a884e61776e\",\"name\":\"Ann Lee Miller\",\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/author\/peabody11\/\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys - Ann Lee Miller","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys - Ann Lee Miller","og_description":"During August I\u2019m blogging about Our Lady of the Hills Camp near Hendersonville, North Carolina\u2013now owned by Highland Lake Inn. I transplanted the camp to a Florida beach town for my novel, Kicking Eternity. E-copies on sale this weekend for .99! An excerpt appears at the bottom of this post.   After pulling the overnight […]","og_url":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/","og_site_name":"Ann Lee Miller","article_published_time":"2014-08-29T13:38:20+00:00","article_modified_time":"2015-06-09T15:28:23+00:00","og_image":[{"width":800,"height":644,"url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Ann Lee Miller","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Ann Lee Miller","Est. reading time":"13 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/","url":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/","name":"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys - Ann Lee Miller","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1","datePublished":"2014-08-29T13:38:20+00:00","dateModified":"2015-06-09T15:28:23+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#\/schema\/person\/0c6315623cc1435f5aee5a884e61776e"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1","contentUrl":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1","width":800,"height":644},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2014\/08\/summer-charlotte-catholic-bad-boys\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Summer of the Charlotte Catholic Bad Boys"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#website","url":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/","name":"Ann Lee Miller","description":"Author, Speaker, & Blogger Extraordinaire","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":"required name=search_term_string"}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/#\/schema\/person\/0c6315623cc1435f5aee5a884e61776e","name":"Ann Lee Miller","sameAs":["https:\/\/annleemiller.com"],"url":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/author\/peabody11\/"}]}},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/annleemiller.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/993382_664505040226852_970272022_n.jpg?fit=800%2C644&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4Hftl-zy","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2204"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2204"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2204\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2212"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2204"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2204"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2204"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}