Love and Pollywogs from Camp Calamity (7 page)

Phil nodded in agreement. “And it isn’t up to any of us
from Saint Dom’s, anyway. Ms. Marshall and her staff make that decision.”

“Were you Outstanding Camper when you were here, Cricket?” Naomi asked.

Cricket blushed and hesitated. “I was, but it wasn’t because I did anything heroic. I just tried to learn as much as I could when I was here, and be helpful.” She shrugged. “I was very surprised that I got it. Just goes to show you that it doesn’t have to be something flashy. Just be the best
you
can be while you’re here. For your own sake. Not for a medal.”

I gathered up all these clues and held them close like I was collecting eggs. Don’t try to be outstanding. Don’t try to get attention. Be a good learner. Be helpful. You don’t have to be flashy. Don’t worry about trying to impress your cabin staff. They don’t get to pick.

Oh! And if you push a kid off the dock at the lake, make sure you jump in and save him!

C
ricket let me stay back from swimming when I whispered to her that I was still having some problems with altitude sickness. I told Nit and Aurora that I was going to stay and help set up the chore chart. Nit gave me a funny look about that, and I nearly had to shove her out of the cabin. She hated to leave me out of any fun. Having my very sporty best friend find out I couldn’t swim would be anything but fun. I had to figure out a plan how I was going to get out of this mess, and quick. I’d heard Sister say that swimming classes started Monday morning!

After everyone headed out to the lake, Sister Lucille took my temperature with the thermometer in a giant first-aid bag she had. She used to be a nurse’s assistant before God told her to quit and become a nun. Then she checked
my pulse and felt my forehead. And asked me a very embarrassing question about the last time I had used the bathroom.

I passed all her tests with flying colors. I sighed with disappointment. I was sure my temperature would be super low—like in the forties or fifties, since I felt all wintery inside. But I seemed perfectly healthy. I guess altitude sickness is tricky that way. They don’t really have a test for it, except the one where somebody could have driven me home and I would have felt better immediately. Then they would have known right away what I’d been suffering from.

“Sister, have you ever heard that swimming in super-cold lake water is really bad for altitude sickness?” I was making that up completely but hoping it might possibly be true.

“Hmm. Don’t believe I’ve heard that one. Have you ever swum in a lake before?”

I paused a sec before I answered. I had a feeling it was a trick question. “I’ve been to Prospect Lake tons of times,” I said. That was true.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at me.

“I love it!” I answered with a lot of enthusiasm.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about the water or the altitude, Effie. I predict you’re going to feel like a whole new kid by tomorrow,” she said, packing up all her nurse things. “Do you mind if I have Phil stay back in the cabin with you? I’d like to help Cricket and Mr. Bucko down at the lake.”

“Okay, but don’t tell Phil I don’t feel good, okay? Could we keep this private between us, Sister? Can you take a vow of silence on it?” I did not want it getting back to Aurora that I was feeling lousy after only about two hours of camp.

Sister agreed not to tell Phil anything except that I needed to rest. I lay back on my bunk and tried to make myself feel better. I noticed Sister and Phil talking in shushy voices near the door, and I kept my fingers crossed that Sister kept her vow.

Phil came and sat down on the edge of my bunk. “Hi, Ef! I guess you were too excited to sleep very well last night. Can I get you anything?”

“Do you have a cell phone?” I asked, hopeful. Talking to Mom would make me feel better.

Phil looked at me like I’d asked for the keys to the camp pickup. “No way! And if I did, I wouldn’t let you use it. I’m not getting busted with one of those. I’m taking my job very seriously. What do you need a phone for, anyway?”

“I need to call my mom! I’m very worried about her.”

“How come?”

“Because we had a fight before I left, and now she’s home all by herself without me, Maxey, or Frank, and she’s probably miserable.”

Phil studied her fingernails a minute. She had a very short attention span. “I’m sure she’s okay. Hey, want me to paint your nails or anything? Or I could do makeup
for you. I have tons of samples from my mom’s job at Dillard’s. I know how to make hazel eyes like yours really pop.”

“No thanks. I don’t really want my eyes popping.”

“This is my old cabin, you know,” she went on, like I really wanted to hear about it. “I had that bunk right over there. But I got a little homesick too the first day.”

“I’m
not
homesick!” I nearly shouted. “Is that what Sister was whispering to you?”

“Take it easy, Ef! I was just trying to be helpful. That’s what CITs are supposed to do. Actually, I never got homesick. I just made that up to make you feel better is all. I read that on a CIT Web site I looked at. If you want a camper to confess something, just tell them that you’ve done it, and they’ll admit it. Isn’t that cool? I hope I get to try it out on something good.”

I sighed and turned onto my other side. “Go ’way, Phil.”

•   •   •

By the time everyone in Coyote cabin had finished swimming, they all had a million private jokes. All anyone had to say was “Geronimo” and everyone cracked up. Nit kept trying to include me in all of it by translating things, and Aurora brought me the special snack that I’d missed after swimming. It was a very melty cup of lemon sherbet that I couldn’t eat. She was happy to slurp it right down for me.

Cricket came over to my bunk after her shower and
asked me if I wanted to use a piece of her special stationery to write Mom a letter. It was pretty cool, and had her initials on it. I took a piece for later. She started telling me about the special girls-only cookout we were having later, and she wanted me to be her special assistant. I was just about to say thanks, but no thanks, but she told me that sometimes the best cure for altitude sickness was to stay busy and ignore it until your body sorted it all out.

I nearly vaulted off my bunk at that. Anything to feel better! This was all so unfair. It was like waking up with the barfy flu on your birthday.

Everyone else had a mandatory rest period next, but since I’d been resting already, I got to go to Mess with Cricket to get the supplies we’d need.

She said we were having
dîner au fleuret sachet
at our cookout. That’s French for “dinner in a foil packet.” You put raw meat, vegetables, and potatoes in foil and then throw it on the grill over the campfire. Everyone got to assemble their own. My job was to help put out all the ingredients and then write people’s names on their packet. It didn’t have to be in French, which was a relief. But I had to be extra careful so that no one ate Becca’s by mistake, because she didn’t eat meat. She was having some cheese and stuff from home. For as long as I can remember, Becca has liked to remind us she’s a vegetarian about twice a day, in case we forget. And she always says it in a whispery kind of voice like she’s telling us a big secret.

I asked for Maxey again when we got to Mess, but
Coco said that his staff was having their swim time down at the lake. Since all the campers were having cookouts, they had the night off. I bet Maxey was chasing poor Swat around the lake like an orphaned baby seal looking for a mom.

Coco had our supplies in a cart with wheels that we took down to Singing Spirits Circle. Mr. Jimenez, the camp handy-dandy man, was already there with his granddaughter, Chica. He was getting the fire ready for cooking. Chica was gathering sticks for it.

She came running toward us when she saw us rolling the cart down the path. “Hi! I’m Chica!” She shook our hands up and down and up and down. She was very thorough about meeting us.

“I’m ten!” she announced.

“Me too,” I told her. “I’m Effie.”

“You have red hair, Effie!” she said. “Like my mom’s! Can I brush it?”

“Chica!” Mr. Jimenez called to her. “I need more sticks.”

I think that was his polite way of distracting her without embarrassing her. He looked like he might be a very nice grandpa. Which made me miss mine. I’d give up ten years of allowance just to have one more day with him.

“Hi, Mr. Jimenez,” I said, and went down to the fire pit. “I’m Effeline Maloney, but you can call me Effie.”

He touched his cowboy hat. “Howdy, Miss Effie.”

“This is my counselor, Cricket,” I added.

“I remember you, Mr. Jimenez!” she said. “I was here a few years back—”

“Good to see you again, Miss Cricket,” he said.

“You remember me?” she asked, pretty surprised. “It’s been years!”

“I never forget the nice ones,” he said, setting a big grill over the fire.

I wondered if I’d be one of the “nice ones” he’d remember. I wanted to be!

Chica came up behind me and gave me a big squeeze around the waist.

“You’re my new best friend, Effie!”

“Chica,” Mr. Jimenez said, his voice soft. “Remember what we said about hugging? Just on special occasions.”

“With permission!” She took my hand again and shook it, then looked over her shoulder at him. “Right, Grandpa?”

“That’s it,
mi’ja.”

She grinned and then went back to gathering sticks and singing a song about a pollywog.

“Have you lived here a long time, Mr. Jimenez?” I asked as I helped Cricket set up the
dîner au fleuret sachet
ingredient assembly line.

“Nearly my whole life,” he said. “I was raised nearby, then got a job here right after I got out of the army. Never want to leave, either.”

“Does Chica’s mom live with you too?” I asked.

“Effie—” Cricket said.

“That’s fine, I don’t mind her questions. I respect a good, curious mind. Chica’s mom, my daughter, moved out to California for work. She visits now and then.”

“Oh,” I said. “I bet Chica misses her.” I couldn’t stand it if Mom lived in another state.

“We both do, but we have a good life here. You play the cards you get dealt. I’m very grateful to Camp Wickitawa. There aren’t many jobs that would let me have my granddaughter with me at work.”

I know all about playing the cards you’re dealt. Maxey, Mom, and I are experts at that.

“Is the rumor true that there might not even be a Camp Wickitawa next year?” Cricket asked. “I heard that flying around Mess earlier today.”

He poked at the fire a bit before he said anything. “Science and nature camps like these have fallen out of fashion the last few years. We have to compete with surf camps, acting camps, space camps, even fashion camps.” He shook his head at that. “It’s been a slow couple of years. We’ll see. I know Ms. Marshall is working very hard on signing up more schools. It’s no secret that we’ve had a generous offer on the property from a company that wants to turn this into a big water park.”

“That’s just awful!” Cricket said. “I can’t imagine there not being a Camp Wickitawa. I always imagined sending my kids here someday.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” he said. “It would be a huge loss.”

“If Ms. Marshall did sell the camp, what would you and Chica do? Where would you go?” I asked.

“I hope I don’t have to cross that bridge for a few more years. But if I do, we’ll make it work. That’s what families do.”

“My grandpa always said that if you have love, luck—”

“—and the good Lord on your side, you can’t lose,” Mr. Jimenez finished, saying it word for word just like Grandpa did.

“Yes! That’s right!” I turned to Cricket with a smile. Maybe my first real one at camp. “He would always say that.”

She smiled back at me.

Just then a bunch of kids in bathing suits came down the path from the lake. They were laughing and shoving each other around.

“Maxey!” I shouted, waving up to her. “It’s my big sister,” I explained to Mr. Jimenez. “Hi, Max!”

Maxey turned at her name and saw me. But then she looked away, ignoring me completely. Her skin looked bright red. She probably hadn’t worn sunscreen like she promised Mom she would. I made a mental note to tell Mom when I called her in the morning!

I tried again. “Maxey!” I yelled. “Sister said I get to call Mom tomorrow. Do you want me to give her a message for you?”

This time she didn’t even turn to look back.

Chica came and stood next to me. “Hi, Maxey!”

Maxey looked down toward us at that, and gave Chica a smile.

“She’s got pretty white hair!” Chica said, turning to me. “But I love red hair the best!”