Love and Pollywogs from Camp Calamity (15 page)

•   •   •

The door to Ms. Marshall’s private office had a sign on it that read
CAMP DIRECTOR
. It was closed. I barged right in.

She looked up and almost choked on a sip of coffee.

“Effie!”

“Yes, ma’am. I need to talk to you!”

“Does Sister or Cricket know you’re here?” she asked.

“No, I was in a super big hurry.”

“You know you’re not supposed to go anywhere without telling your staff.”

“I know, but—”

She held one finger up to shush me and picked up her desk phone to make a call. She read something off a sheet of paper and then punched in some numbers.

“But, Ms. Marshall—”

She shushed me again. And then the cell phone sitting on the corner of her desk started to ring. The very same ring that we’d heard in Coyote less than an hour ago. “Oh!” she said. She picked up the cell and looked at it. “Guess that solves the mystery of who this belongs to.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” I said.

She turned in her seat and spoke into a wooden box with a microphone on top. It was the intercom that played all over camp. “Sister Lucille. Sister Lucille. Please report to Ms. Marshall’s office. Sister Lucille. Please report to Ms. Marshall’s office.”

Ms. Marshall pointed to the chair where I should sit.

I gulped and licked my lips, which were dry as chalk. “Your office is very pretty.” It was pink and green and looked kind of swanky. I was stalling because all of a sudden, I wasn’t sure what I should tell her.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Effie?”

“It wasn’t Phil!” I blurted. “She didn’t take Sister’s
phone. She was framed. Phil loves being our CIT, and she’s sort of good at it. Which is surprising, because Nit and I always figured she was mostly worthless at stuff.”

“Who would—as you say—‘frame’ her?”

I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “If it was just a camper that did it, and not a CIT, what exactly would the punishment be?”

“I’d have to understand the circumstances.”

“Wull, what if it was meant to be a silly prank that wasn’t supposed to cause any big problems?”

“Is that what happened, Effie?” she asked, looking at me intently.

“I’m not saying it was, and I’m not saying it wasn’t. But what if the person that did it felt so terrible that they were crying their head off right now? Would you punish them less because they felt so awful about it?”

“I’d guess I’d want that person to come talk to me themselves.”

Fat chance of that, I thought. Maxey is as stubborn as a donkey.

“Are you going to tell me who it is so I can take care of this matter? That’s my job. Your job is to have a good time at camp, and to stay under the supervision of your staff.”

“I don’t believe in squealing, Ms. Marshall. When you do something wrong, you take your medicine. And you don’t rat other people out unless they’re hurting somebody.” Which was what my mom had to do when she turned in my dad for stealing. “That’s the Maloney Code.”

“I don’t disagree with that, Effie. But it’s important
that I get to the bottom of this so that I can deal fairly with Phil.”

“Can’t you just forget about it? Please let Phil off the hook when she comes in.”

“I’m not comfortable with that. If I don’t address this now, there might be a more serious infraction later from this person. One that could potentially jeopardize the safety of my campers. I can’t take that risk. If you’ve got a bad apple, you need to get it out of the bushel.”

My sister could be a bad apple, but I didn’t want her thrown out of the bushel.

I blew out a big gust. “Okay, it was me, Ms. Marshall. I did it. I thought it would be funny, but it was plain stupid. I’m sorry. And I’ll tell Phil and Sister I’m sorry too.” I moved to the edge of my seat. “I’m ready for my punishment. You can do whatever you want to me, you just can’t send me home because my mom is on retreat, which she really needs. Mrs. Korn is at my house, but she’s on vacation from her eleven children, so it wouldn’t be right to send me home. She needs a break too. I promise I’ll never do another prank as long as I’m here.”

She leaned back in her chair. “This is not a major offense, but I will tell you that I’m a little disappointed in you, Effie.”

Never trust grown-ups when they say they are “a little disappointed” in you. What they really mean is that they’re disappointed out of their brains, but they’re trying to protect you from the full bad news of it.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a little disappointed too.”

But all I could think about at that moment was how my secret dream of being chosen St. Dominic’s fifty-eighth Outstanding Camper of the Week had just hitched a ride on the space shuttle and blasted away from me.

S
ister showed up at Ms. Marshall’s office just as I was leaving. She looked relieved to find me there. Ms. Marshall told her to escort me over to the Science and Nature Center and then come back with Phil. I was glad we were walking so I didn’t have to look Sister in the eye when I told her I’d taken her phone. She asked me when exactly I’d come into Elk and done that. That caught me by surprise, and I flubbed around a second. I told her it was when she was up at the biffy brushing her teeth. She said we’d talk more later before she dropped me off.

Mr. Bucko was just coming out of Ms. Hawkins’s classroom. He was wearing about a bucket of aftershave. I think if he wanted Ms. Hawkins to be his girlfriend, he needed to find some that smelled more like wild animals.

I was near worn out from all that had just happened, but I still needed to launch my plan to get out of his swimming class.

“Mr. Bucko! Can I talk to you a second?”

“Sure, Effie! What’s up?”

I filled my belly with a big breath. “You probably saw me talking with Chica yesterday in your class. She told me that she really wants to learn how to swim, but she hasn’t yet.”

He nodded. “We’ve made some progress. We’ll get there eventually. It’s hard to keep her in the water.”

I plunged ahead and put my hands in my pockets, in case I needed to cross my fingers. I’d already told one whopper today, and I didn’t want another one on my conscience. “I was wondering if you’d let me try to teach her. You know, instead of taking your pro swimming class.”

“Oh! That’s such a nice offer, Effie. But I’d hate for you to miss out on your lessons. Maybe we could work it so you could do both.”

“Well, I thought of that,” I said. “And really, look at this skin of mine. I’m Irish Catholic. We’re made for being inside praying, and not for being outside too much. I shouldn’t be in the lake for two whole hours a day. Have you seen how sunburned my sister is?”

“Yes! And she got an earful from me about using more sunscreen.” He crossed his arms and gave me a serious look. “So, have you ever taught anyone to swim?”

“No, but I’m extremely patient. You have to be, with a sister like mine. I bet I could do it! Please, Mr. Bucko?”

“Well, let me talk to Mr. Jimenez and clear it with Sister. The shallow end is free late afternoon when staff gets their swim time. They’re mostly all out at the platform. That might be a good time to work with Chica. But that’s your rest period. You need to have that.”

“Maybe I could rest by sitting at the lake in the shade while you have class! I could watch you and pick up some good teaching tips.”

He nodded. “I guess that might work if Sister goes for it.”

“Thank you! Oh, and maybe you could come just for the first part of the lesson in the afternoon. I want to make sure I say everything just right. But I’ll be in charge of all the practicing until she gets it. You won’t need to help with any of that.”

“I’m on lifeguard duty then, so it should work out just fine.”

“Do you think you could talk to Mr. Jimenez and Sister about it right away so I can get started with her?”

“Deal,” he said. “And thanks, Effie. This is really great of you.”

I shrugged, not feeling so great at all. But if Phil didn’t get sent home, and Chica and I learned how to swim this week, it would all be worth it.

Right?

•   •   •

Funny how something that seems like it would be easy—taking someone else’s blame—turns out to be so hard.
And something that seems like it would be super hard—faking your way out of your swim class—turns out to be a cakewalk. I think Mr. Bucko and Mr. Jimenez were pretty happy to have someone else take over helping Chica learn how to swim. After I had my first official class with her on Tuesday afternoon, I understood why.

She really didn’t like the getting-wet part of swimming. She loved being in her bathing suit, was crazy about her goggles, and really liked drying off. And she was super jazzed that we were going to get to spend every afternoon together. Unlike Aurora and Nit, I was Chica’s number one interest. It felt pretty nice, I had to admit.

Mr. Bucko suggested that first we work on blowing bubbles while holding on to the dock. Big deep breath in, face down, bubbles out. Repeat. He brought down straws and snorkels for us to use.

“Is that all?” I said. “I mean, shouldn’t I work on the arm part today too? You know, how to move your arms so you don’t sink?”

“I’d stick with breathing and bubbles today,” Mr. Bucko said. “It’s the most important skill for new swimmers. If you don’t get this part down, you won’t be able to swim. If you need me, I’ll be right here,” he said, pointing to his lifeguard station on the beach. “I’ve got to keep my eyes on those rascals out there.” He smiled. He had a pair of binoculars around his neck, and a Jet Ski nearby. All the kitchen and housekeeping staff were out by the platform horsing around. I’d seen Maxey head out there too. She was still red as a radish.

Chica was always game to get in the water, but then she would get out nearly every two minutes to dry off, particularly her face.

“Chica, come on back in now!” I hollered.

She gave me a big smile and rushed right back in. “It’s cold, Effie!”

“I know, but if you stay in, you’ll warm up, okay? Now let’s keep working on breathing. I’ll do it first, then you’ll go next, okay?” I took a big breath, put the straw in my mouth, then dipped below the water and blew. By the time I came back up, she was hurrying off to the shore for her towel.

This time I went and got her and took her hand. I knew she liked holding hands. We practiced bubbles together, and I never let go of her hand.

“You’re my best friend, Effie!” she said.

“It’s fun being all wet together, isn’t it? See? You can dry your face off with your hands when you come up.” Then I showed her how to blow her nose in the water in case she needed to.

This time I was able to keep her in the water five whole minutes! When she came back with her scrubbed-dry face, I asked her if she wanted to try something new before we finished our class on breathing and bubbles.

“Yes! I’ll try!”

I put her on my back piggy-style and ran around the shallow end for a long time, which she loved a lot. She kept waving at Mr. Bucko and yelling, “Look! Me and Effie are swimming!”

Then I told her we were going to go under together when I said “Big breath!” She tightened her arms around my neck so I could hardly breathe.

“Relax, Chica,” I said, loosening her arms. “This is gonna be so fun! And what do we do when we go under?” I asked.

“Hold our breath!” she yelled.

“Nope! Remember what Mr. Bucko said? There is no holding your breath in swimming. What do you do right after you take a big breath?”

“Bubbles!”

“Right! See if you can tickle the back of my neck with your bubbles underwater, okay?”

“Okay!”

I galloped a few steps forward, then said “Big breath!” I swooped her under with me. I tried to remember to blow my own bubbles out too. How had I missed knowing about bubbles and breathing all these years? No wonder I couldn’t swim!

When we came up, Chica yelled right in my ear. “Did you feel them, Effie? I blew all my bubbles right on your neck!”

“I did! They tickled!”

She pulled herself off me and I knew she was headed for a dry-off. I grabbed her by the waist. “Hey, no fair! I get my turn.
I
get to blow bubbles on
your
neck.” I hopped on her back. “Giddyup!”