My Extra Best Friend (2 page)

Stacey helps me hunt around for my swimsuit while Jenna quizzes Brooke with my
What to Bring to Camp
list. We all got the same one.

“Who cares about what to bring?” Brooke says when Jenna finishes. “I’m bringing everything I own. But the
Do Not Bring
list? L-A-M
lame
.” Brooke may be a drama queen, but she isn’t a spelling queen. “How am I supposed to survive a whole week without candy?”

“They have marshmallows,” Jenna tells Brooke. “And chocolate chips in the trail mix. Sometimes we even get ice cream.”

“I prefer frozen custard,” Brooke snips. “And I only eat chocolate chips
if
they’re not touching any raisins.”

Jenna rolls her eyes.

“What I don’t get is, why do we have a
boy
for a counselor?” Stacey says, tossing my swimsuit to me and taking the Camp Meadowlark letter from Jenna. She points to the first name on a list of everyone who will be living in our cabin—Chickadee. Alex, our counselor, all of us, and two other girls we don’t know yet. Cee Cee and Liz.

“Alex can be a girl’s name too,” Brooke says. “That’s what we call my cousin Alexis. She’s in seventh grade and, trust me, she’s
not
a boy.” Brooke puffs up her chest and swings her shoulders.

We all giggle.

“Boys live at the other end of camp,” Jenna tells us. “They can’t come into our cabin and we can’t go into theirs.”

“Score,” Brooke says. “Less chance of seeing Rusty and Joey. Did you hear? They’ll be there too.”

“And Tom,” I add.

“And Quinn,” Stacey says.

We trade secret smiles after she says his name because we both have matching crushes on him.

“What about the
extra
girls,” Brooke says. “I mean, what kind of name is
Cee Cee
? Does she have a brother named Bee Bee? And a sister named Dee Dee?”

Stacey giggles. “Maybe their last name is
Alphabet
!”

Brooke sits forward. She loves soaking up an audience even more than soaking up the sun. “And
Liz
must be short for
Liz
ard,” she says. “I bet she sleeps under a
rock
! And eats
flies
for breakfast!”

Brooke laughs at her own funniness.

I dart to the bathroom with my swimsuit before I have to laugh along.

We meet up with Randi, Meeka, and Jolene at the Purdee Town Park. It’s the halfway point between all of our houses and Purdee Elementary.

“Let’s take the shortcut, through the playground,” Randi says as we pedal toward the pool.

“Yeah, let’s!” Rachel, Jenna’s little sister, chimes in. We picked her up at Jenna’s house. “My legs feel like pasghetti.”

Rachel’s only going into first grade, so her legs are a lot shorter than ours, which means she has to pedal harder to keep up.

“Spaghetti,”
Jenna corrects her. “And we can’t cut through the playground. Remember? They’re still working on the new swings and stuff.”

I can see Bessie, the cow-shaped hedge that grows near the school wall. When Stacey first
moved here, we hid secret notes behind her. We even made up secret names for each other. I know it sounds like a weird way to make a new best friend. But after Elizabeth moved to Albuquerque I was too sad to make one in the usual way.

We head around the school, ditch our bikes by the pool entrance, and hurry inside.

Randi takes off for the high dive. Rusty, Joey, Zane, and Dominic are already there.

Quinn and the Dylans are playing keep-away with a squishy ball.

Tom is treading water, probably trying to beat his record. Once, he lasted thirty minutes. Afterward, Quinn had to haul him home on his handlebars because Tom’s legs were as wobbly as pasghetti.

Brooke kicks the boys’ stuff out of a sunny spot and stretches out on her fuzzy purple towel. Stacey joins her. So do Meeka and Jolene.

“I’m going to play with Tess, okay, Jen?” Rachel says to Jenna. She pulls a diving ring and two squirty fish out of their beach bag.

“Let me watch you swim a little first. I want to make sure you are doing it right,” Jenna replies.

Rachel slumps.

Jenna takes the diving ring and squirty fish from Rachel and puts them back in the bag. Then she grabs Rachel’s hand and leads her toward the shallow end of the pool. “C’mon,” she says.

“I saved a place for you, Ida!” Stacey calls to me. She pats an open spot between her towel and Meeka’s.

I’m just about to join them when a squishy ball hits my leg.

“Hey, Ida!” Quinn waves to me from the water. “Get that, will ya?”

I toss it back to Quinn.

“Thanks!” Quinn says. Then he shoots me a smile.

Before I can shoot a smile back, one of the Dylans steals the ball and Quinn takes off after him.

“He likes you, you know.”

I look down and see Tom looking up at me. He’s treading water near the edge of the pool. His head isn’t moving much, but I can see his arms and legs doing a blurry ballet under the blue-tinted water.

“Who likes me?” I ask him.

“Quinn,” Tom replies.

I give Tom a skeptical look. Besides treading water and doing math problems in his head, there’s something else that Tom is very good at. Teasing his friends.

“Yeah, right,” I say, sitting down and dangling my feet in the water. “And Brooke Morgan likes mud wrestling.”

Tom treads a little closer. “Remember that mini basketball you gave him at our holiday party last year?”

I nod. “Of course. I was his Secret Santa.”

“I saw it under his bed when we were playing wizards and aliens yesterday,” Tom continues.

“So?” I say. “That just proves he liked it. Who wouldn’t? It burped when you bounced it.”

“So
-o,
” Tom says back. “Your name was written on it.”

I twitch a little. Then I do a casual laugh. “That doesn’t mean anything. Quinn’s mom probably made him write that. So he’d remember who it was from.”

“Uh-huh,” Tom says. “And I suppose she
made
him draw a heart around it too?”

My eyes go wide, taking in this new information.
No one, that I know of, has ever written my name on a burping basketball before. And no boy would ever
ever
draw a heart anywhere near a girl’s name unless he meant business.

Tom snickers. “Better put on some sunscreen, Ida. Your face is starting to burn!”

I look away quickly, thinking this might be a good time to dive into the pool.
Did Tom tell Quinn he saw the heart? Did Quinn confess that he has a crush on me?
But before I can ask any questions, I see something red in the water and it’s not my reflection. It’s hair. Attached to a freckled head. Meaty pink back. Checkered trunks.

Tom dunks. Down, up. Down, up. Like a bobber on a fishing line.

Then he goes down for good.

A moment later, he splashes to the surface.

So does Rusty.

“
Dah
-dum…
dah
-dum…
dah
-dum…!” Rusty chants. “Shark attack!”

Tom grabs the edge of the pool, breathing hard. “Thanks a lot,” he says to Rusty. “Five more minutes and I would have broken my record.”

“I’m here to help,
Tom
-ahawk,” Rusty replies,
giving Tom’s head a friendly knuckle rub. Then he gives me the once-over. “My oh my, Ida, why so dry?” He slaps at the water, splashing me.

“Stop it!” I shove him away with my foot. I’m not usually a shover, but boys can be so annoying sometimes. Especially when their name is Rusty Smith.

“Sheesh, Ida.” Rusty rubs his arm. “Easy on the merchandise. You break it, you buy it!”

I squint and shove him again.
Harder.

Tweeeeet!

I look up at the lifeguard stand.

The lifeguard is looking down at me. She takes the whistle out of her mouth. “No horseplay,” she says.

“Sorry,” I mumble back.

“Hear that, Ida?” Rusty says, hoisting himself out of the pool. “Keep your hooves to yourself.” He scoops up an armful of water, soaking me.

See what I mean?
So
annoying.

Rusty gallops to his towel. It’s lying in a heap next to Brooke.

“Can’t you
drip
somewhere else?” Brooke lifts her sunglasses and scowls at Rusty.

Rusty plants a soggy foot on her towel. “Us guys called dibs on
this
side of the pool the first day of summer vacation. If you don’t want us dripping on you, then arrivederci someplace else.”

He dries his chest.

Then his armpits.

Then his checkered butt.

Brooke’s face goes sour. “Fine. Then
I
call dibs on the best side of the pool at Camp
Whatever
lark.”

“Yeah,” Stacey chimes in. “Us girls will
rule
that pool!”

Meeka and Jolene nod.

Rusty wipes his wrinkled feet. “There’s no pool at Camp
Meadow
lark, you dorks. There’s a lake.
Round
Lake. Good luck calling dibs on one side of a circle!”

Rusty laughs.

Brooke stiffens. She sits up and gives Rusty a very serious squint. “What do you mean there’s no
pool
? Where do we swim?”

“I just told you,” Rusty replies. “In the lake.” He leans in. “You do know what a
lake
is, don’tcha? Smelly water…slimy weeds…mucky shore.”

Brooke blinks.

Rusty grins. “Watch out for snapping turtles. They can take your baby toe in one bite.” He clicks his teeth.

Brooke whips a look at the other girls. “Did you know about this?”

Stacey, Meeka, and Jolene shake their heads.

“Don’t worry,” Rusty says, patting Brooke’s head like a puppy. “We’ll protect you. Me, Joey, Quinn, and Tom. Your knights in shining armor.”

Brooke squirms out from under Rusty’s hand. “No you won’t,
Crusty
Smith. We can take care of ourselves. Besides, Jenna told us the boys stay on one side of camp, the girls on the other.”

“That’s only for sleeping,” Rusty says. “The rest of the time, we’ll be your constant companions.”

He honks his nose into the towel and lets it fall over Brooke like a blanket. “Nightie-night, campers!” Then he cannonballs into the water even though he just dried himself off.

Brooke marches over to Jenna, where she is helping Rachel in the shallow end of the pool. “Is it true?” she hollers. “We have to swim in a
lake
? With biting
turtles
?”

Jenna glances up. “The turtles stay where it’s
shallow,” she says back. “Just pass the swim test so you can go to the raft. Only fish out there, and they hardly ever bite.”

I study my swimsuit.

Worm-pink straps.

Caterpillar-green swirls.

I’m fish bait.

I walk over to Jenna. “What if I flunk the test?”

“You won’t,” Jenna replies. “It’s easy. Only tadpoles flunk.”

“Tadpoles?”

Jenna slips her hands out from under Rachel. “That’s what everyone calls the kids who have to stay in the shallow end.
Tadpoles.
Deep-water swimmers are called
sharks
.”

I look at Tom, who’s followed me. He nods in agreement.

“Tadpoles…snapping turtles…sharks. Are there killer whales too?”

Tom snorts a laugh.

Jenna gives me a huff. “The only thing that’s going to bite you is mosquitoes. Don’t you trust me?”

I sigh. Nod. “Yes,” I say. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Jenna says back. “Just stick with me and nothing bad will happen.”

“Look at me, Ida!” Rachel sputters. “I’m doing the dead man’s float!”

I look at Rachel.

Chin back.

Tummy up.

Arms flapping like baby bird wings.

Jenna rolls her eyes. “More like the
goofy girl’s
float.”

Tom laughs. “Good one, Jenna!” He smiles at her and swims off.

Jenna can’t help but smile too. Sometimes smiles have a mind of their own. Especially when you have a teeny crush on a boy. She does. On Tom.

I hop into the water with Jenna.

A minute later, Tess pulls Rachel away.

Stacey jumps in behind me.

Then Randi.

And Meeka and Jolene.

Even Brooke.

We splash and squeal and dunk each other when the lifeguard isn’t looking.

Seven goofy friends.

“All packed?” Dad asks. It’s Sunday. We’re leaving today.

I stuff George down deep in my suitcase and tuck my sketchbook on top. “Uh-huh,” I say, looking over the checklist from camp. “Clothes…flashlight…swimsuit…bug repellent—everything I’m supposed to bring to camp, plus some stuff I want to bring.” I zip my suitcase shut.

Even though
sketchbook
wasn’t on the list, I packed mine along. We’ll have Quiet Time in our cabin every day to read or write letters. Reading is okay, but I’d rather draw than write. George wasn’t on the list either, but I’m bringing him anyway. Brooke might think I’m too old for stuffed animals, but George would get lonely without me. I’ll just keep him hidden.

“No candy though, right?” Dad says. “You don’t want little critters stopping by your bunk for a snack.”

I shake my head. “Candy is on the
Do Not Bring
list. I don’t want to break a rule before I even get there.” I decide not to mention to Dad that Brooke is sneaking a bunch of snacks along. Jenna had a fit when she told us. If Brooke gets caught, our whole cabin could get in trouble. But, secretly, I hope she’s bringing Choco Chunks. They’re my favorite.

“Good plan,” Dad says. “Save the rule breaking for later in the week. Give the counselors a chance to drop their guard.” He grins.

I make a face. I know Dad’s joking. He used to be a camp counselor. All week he’s been telling me about the things counselors
love
. Like how they
love
when campers short-sheet their bunks. Or sew their pants legs shut. Or hang their shoes from the top of the bell tower.

Mom pokes her head in from the hallway. She looks at Dad, then at me. “Is he being a bad influence again?”

I grab the handle on my suitcase and pull it off
my bed. It clunks to the floor like I packed it with bricks instead of clothes. “Like always,” I reply.