Summer Camp Adventure (6 page)

C
ounselors,” Mr. Wheaten continued, still wiping his face, “I want you to take your campers back to their cabins. All afternoon activities are cancelled. It’ll take that long for everybody to get showers. I need one worker from each cabin to get back here as soon as possible to help clean this cafeteria. We’ll be shovelin’ noodles and puddin’ for hours.”

On her trek to the Five Ferns cabin, Skye tried to ana lyze what had just happened. “It really wasn’t Jonathan’s fault,” she said to Morgan. “That other kid provoked him. Jonathan was just trying to tell the kid to leave him alone. But without being able to speak, he acted the only way he knows.”

“Well, Tim can’t tell Mr. Wheaten that,” Morgan said. “His back was turned when the fight started. I’m afraid Jonathan’s gonna get shipped out.”

“I am too,” Skye said. “But this time I’m on his side. Praying for him has changed my mind. I really don’t want him to leave.”

“What can you do about it?” Morgan wheeled along the walkway in front of the cabin.

“I’ve got to do something,” Skye said. “Let’s get these kids cleaned up. Then after I help at the cafeteria, I’ll go see Mr. Wheaten.”

It was almost suppertime before Skye could slip away to Mr. Wheaten’s office. She hurried to the administration building and knocked on his door.

“Come in!” Mr. Wheaten barked.

Skye peeked inside tentatively.

Wearing a fresh western shirt after his unscheduled shower, Mr. Wheaten was just placing the phone down in its cradle. The steer horns above his head, missing the infamous black Stetson, now displayed a beat-up, stained tan cowboy hat. The man’s grumpy demeanor from the afternoon’s incident dissipated when he saw Skye stand ing at the door.

“Mr. Wheaten, can we talk?” Skye asked.

“Sure, c’mon in, little lady. I have good news for you. Your worries are over,” Mr. Wheaten said. “You were right. Jonathan
is
the Master of Disaster. He’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, that is, if I can reach his parents. There’s been no answer at their home all afternoon. We aim to help kids here,” he said emphatically, “but there’s a limit to what we can do. This kid’s got to go.”

Skye made her way to a chair in front of the desk and sat down. “That’s why I’m here,” she said. “This time it wasn’t his fault.”

Mr. Wheaten’s eyebrows shot up like he had just heard the tallest tale this side of Texas. “Now, Annie, you ain’t tryin’ to hog-tie me, are you? I should think you’d be the first one in line to wave good-bye.”

“No, it’s the truth,” Skye said. “I saw the whole thing. The kid sitting next to him started it by grabbing for his sunglasses. Jonathan just wanted to be left alone, but the other camper wouldn’t stop.”

Mr. Wheaten leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “Well, why didn’t Tim tell me this?”

“Tim didn’t see what happened with Jonathan. He was busy with a kid who had spilled his milk.”

Mr. Wheaten, deep in thought, rubbed his chin. “I see. Maybe the Lord didn’t want me to get through to Jonathan’s parents.”

Skye leaned forward, placing her hands on Mr. Wheaten’s desk. “I’ve been praying an awful lot for Jonathan lately. Please give him one more chance. I’m willing to keep trying.”

“Well, if you’re willing, little lady, then I’m willing,” Mr. Wheaten said with a big smile. “Let’s go find Jonathan and tell him.”

After supper, Skye took her weekly furlough when she had several hours all to herself. The campers and most of the staff had gone to the gymnasium. There the owner and curator of central Pennsylvania’s Jungleland was put ting on a display of exotic birds and snakes. Wild animals fascinated Skye, but she decided to ride Champ bareback around the deserted campgrounds.
I need time to think and pray
, she told herself as she trotted Champ around the barn and headed toward the lake.

Approaching the swimming pool, Skye saw the boys’ locker room door opening. Backing out, Chad was busy wrestling with a mop and a sloshing bucket on wheels. Skye could tell that he had just finished sanitizing the room.

“I sure hope he doesn’t see me,” Skye whispered to Champ. She leaned forward, patted his neck, and looked the other way as the horse clip-clopped past the pool. “He’s probably entertaining Linda with his mop,” she whispered again.

“Hey! Skye!” Chad yelled.

“Oh, no,” Skye said to Champ. “I can’t face him yet. Not after what happened yesterday.”

“Skye! Over here!” Chad turned his volume up a notch.

Skye slowed Champ to a walk, straightened her back like a soldier at attention, and looked nonchalantly toward Chad. Feigning surprise, she yelled, “Oh—Chad—hi there!”

“Wait a minute!” he yelled, throwing the mop against the door. He charged out the open pool gate to Skye. “Do you have a minute?” he said in short breaths. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Skye looked into Chad’s brown eyes, and her heart started to melt. Then she remembered Linda. “Well, I only have an hour left of furlough. I need to take a ride and do some thinking and praying,” she said coldly.

“But Skye, this is important,” Chad said. He glanced toward the lake. “How about we take a walk down there?”

For the first time since she had seen Linda and Chad together, Skye found herself saying yes to Chad. She slid off Champ’s back and started leading him toward the lake. After Chad locked the gate to the pool, he rejoined Skye.

“So, what’s up?” Skye looked straight ahead.
He probably wants to tell me he’s marrying Linda
.

“Well, for one thing,” Chad said, “I wanted to know if you had survived the last twenty-four hours. It looks like you did. You’ve had it rough with that Jonathan kid. They said he started the food fight at lunchtime. What a mess!”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Skye said in a softer tone. “I’ve been doin’ an awful lot of praying about Jonathan. He’s a very lonely kid. And by the way, Chad, he didn’t start that food fight. The camper next to him did.”

“No kidding! So Jonathan’s not getting shipped out?”

“No. And I’m glad.”

“Yeah, I am too. Everybody deserves another chance.”

“I sure know about that,” Skye said.

With Champ following, Chad and Skye meandered down the sloping lawn beside the waterslide. A brilliant sunset gave the lake and surrounding woods a deep pink
cast. If it weren’t for Linda, Skye would have thought she was walking in a dream.

At the water’s edge, Chad pulled a shoot of tall grass from a cluster of weeds and stuck it between his teeth. Skye dropped Champ’s reins, allowing him to feast on the succulent, moist grass on the shore. Skye picked up several flat stones and skipped them across the water.
It doesn’t get any better than this
, Skye thought.
Almost
.

“So what did you want to tell me?” she asked Chad while skipping the stones.

“Skye, I’ve always considered you one of my best friends, so I want to run something by you. Tell me what you think.”

Skye walked back to Champ and stroked his neck. “Okay, what?” she said defensively.

“You know, the guest speakers at camp have given some mighty good sermons. And—well—the Lord’s been speaking to my heart. I think he wants me to go into the ministry, maybe as a missionary or a youth pastor or something.”

Skye’s eyebrows peaked, and she quickly tried to wipe the surprise off her face. “So this isn’t about Linda?”

“What would Linda have to do with
my
future?” Chad scratched his head. “Anyway, what do you think? Would I make a good preacher or missionary? You know me about as well as any of the kids at Madison, or at church.”

Skye stared into the face of a young man whose eyes pleaded for an answer. Her own face flushed hot, then she turned toward Champ and stroked his soft, velvety nose. “Yeah, Chad, I think you’d make a great preacher. I mean, you’re so good with people. And your music would be a big plus. Yeah, you’d be great. I’m sure you would.” She looked back at Chad and smiled.

“Well, you’re one of the few people who know about this,” he said almost in a whisper. “I told Linda, and I called my best friend back home and told him.”

Linda, Linda, Linda! I am so sick of hearing that name!
Skye fumed.
I’ve got to get this straight, right now
. “While we’re on the topic of Linda,” Skye interjected, “I need to know something right now, Chad Dressler.”

“Sure, Skye Nicholson. But you look so serious. What is it?” His dimples dissolved into a devilish smile.

“What is it with you and Linda? I mean, I see you together everywhere. She’s—like—your shadow!”

“What does that have to do with anything? We’ve always been close.”

“Yeah! Very close!” Skye growled.

“Well,” Chad said while he chewed on the grass, “she is special to me. And she’d be special to you if you were in my shoes!”

“What on earth do you mean, ‘If I were in your shoes’?”

“Skye, I don’t have a sister. Linda’s my only girl cousin. We’ve always been close. She’s like the sister I’ve never had but wished I did.”

W
hat?” Skye’s mouth dropped open.

“Now, Skye, don’t act so surprised.”

“Your cousin? Linda’s your—your cousin?”

“Well, sure. Always was and always will be. I thought you knew that.”

“How would I know that, Chad Dressler?”

“Don’t you remember when she visited from New York a few years back and she came to the youth retreat at Keystone Stables?”

“Chad, a few years back?”

“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t living there at the time, were you?”

“No,” Skye said, her face frozen in shock. “I thought you—she—she always calls you ‘honey’!”

Chad’s dimpled smile made his eyes sparkle. “Aw, so that’s why you’ve been acting so funny. You thought we were—” He let loose a hearty laugh. “Skye, I thought you knew me better than that. Girlfriends aren’t in my plans until I’m much older. Linda has called me ‘honey’ since we were little kids. It’s a family joke. We both got in trouble one time when we ate a whole jar of honey and
got sick. Since then she always reminds me of that dumb trick by calling me ‘honey.’ That’s all it means.”

Skye felt like the biggest fool at Camp Oneega. Maybe even in the whole wide world. Her face flushed hot again, mostly from embarrassment. “I—I’m sorry, Chad. I just read the whole thing wrong.”

“Forget it,” Chad said, his face growing sincere, “and I’ll let you in on a little secret. When I’m ready for a girlfriend, you’ll be the first one on the list.”

The next few days Skye floated on air. Linda was Chad’s cousin? It was too good to be true. With Linda no longer a major source of irritation, Skye focused on helping the Problem Child of Camp Oneega.

Every morning, she met Jonathan at the riding corral where he was learning how to saddle and bridle Buddy, how to clean his hooves, and how to apply bug juice. The boy had advanced in his riding lessons to where he was now ready to learn how to trot Buddy in the corral. Today it was time for another lesson. Skye and Champ stood next to Jonathan and Buddy, ready to begin.

“Okay, Jonathan,” Skye signed, “mount Buddy. I want you to walk him around the corral one time in each direc tion. Then come back here, and we’ll work on trotting.”

Jonathan smiled, pulled his helmet strap tighter under his chin, and nudged Buddy forward. Flawlessly, he walked Buddy as he had been instructed. Then he came back to Skye.

“Very good,” Skye signed. “Now we’re going to learn to trot. I’m going to trot Champ around the corral. You sit here and watch. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jonathan signed.

Skye mounted Champ and rode him around the corral one time, stopping in front of her watchful student. “I’ll do
it once more,” she signed. “You watch my balance and my feet. Also, look at how little I pull on the reins. Okay?”

“Okay,” he signed.

Again Skye trotted around and stopped in front of Jonathan.

“Now, you try it. Remember, don’t pull back hard on the reins. And don’t kick him. Just rub his belly with your heels. Buddy will respond.”

“Okay.” Jonathan smiled. He started, first in a walk, then in a proper trot. But halfway around the corral, he started pushing his weight forward in the stirrups and lifting himself out of the saddle every other beat of Buddy’s trot.

“He’s posting!” Skye said with no one listening. “Jonathan!” she screamed.

Shifting his weight forward, Jonathan sent Buddy into a full canter. The boy yanked the reins to the side, turn ing the horse into the center of the corral. Buddy came to an abrupt and confused stop.

Skye raced Champ into the center of the corral, coming to a sliding stop next to Buddy. Panic filled Buddy’s eyes as he sidestepped, fighting the tight hold Jonathan had on the bit. Skye reached down and grabbed the horse’s bridle, attempting to settle him down.

“Jonathan, relax the reins!” she signed. “You don’t post when you ride Western style. Buddy has no clue what you’re doing.”

“I always ride like that!” Jonathan signed.

“Only because you learned English style on an English-trained horse. Now listen! All these horses at the camp are trained
Western
.”

“No,” Jonathan chopped the air. “I don’t like this way.” He started pulling Buddy to the side.

Skye grabbed Buddy’s bridle again and calmed him down. “Jonathan, you
will not
post with Buddy. Your lesson is done!”

Jonathan pouted for several seconds and stared at Skye. Then, dropping the reins on the saddle’s horn, he started to cry. He ripped off his riding helmet, threw it on the ground, and jumped off his horse. Wailing like someone had just given him a black eye, Jonathan fled into the barn.

Now what!
Skye said to herself. She reached over to Buddy’s saddle, grabbed his reins, and led him back toward the barn. Tying both horses’ reins to the corral posts, Skye ran into the barn after Jonathan. Over in a dark corner filled with hay bales, Jonathan sat, crying his eyes out.

Skye hurried to kneel in front of Jonathan.

Venturing one nasty look at Skye, the boy lowered his head onto his folded arms. He sobbed and sobbed.

Skye touched him, and Jonathan pulled away fiercely. He pivoted his body a half turn, completely ignoring Skye. The battle of the wills had begun again.

“More trouble?” Skye heard Mr. Wheaten’s voice coming from the open barn door.

“Yes,” she answered. “He wouldn’t listen during his riding lesson again.”

“Need any help?” Mr. Wheaten asked.

“I think I can handle this one,” she said. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’ll be in the corral if you need me.” The man’s voice trailed away.

Skye sat on her haunches, contemplating her next move. Jonathan stared off into space with crocodile tears streaming out of his big brown eyes. By now, his nose had joined in, thick liquid running down over his lips.

Skye reached into her jeans pocket for a wad of tissues. All in one move, she pulled one loose and reached toward Jonathan’s nose.

Smack!
Jonathan slapped Skye’s hand so hard the tissue flew. With eyes full of contempt and the nastiest scowl he could muster, he stared straight at her.

“I hate you!” he signed viciously.

Favoring her stinging hand, Skye sat dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that,” she signed. “You always say you like me.”

“I don’t like you!” he said. “I hate you! Just leave me alone!” Again he turned, this time with his back toward Skye. He buried his face in his arms, and again cried in loud sobs.

Slowly Skye stood, and for a brief moment stared at the heartbroken boy.
He hates me
.

The last time she had heard those awful words was in one of her foster homes, a long time ago, where she lived above a garage and was treated like a maid. The other kids in that home had said that too. At that terrible place, she knew she wasn’t wanted, spending more time in the garage than in the house. Ugly memories filled her mind like a flooding cesspool. Her own eyes filled with tears.

Should I try to help?
she asked herself.
Can I?
She reached and almost touched Jonathan’s quivering shoulder but quickly withdrew her hand.

I’m not helping him at all
, she told herself.
I’m only making things worse
. With her own tears streaming, Skye turned and fled the barn.

“Skye!” Mr. Wheaten yelled from behind. “Wait!”

Halfway across the road, Skye stopped. Wiping her eyes, she turned as Mr. Wheaten covered the distance.

“What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” Mr. Wheaten’s eyes and opened hands expressed his deep concern.

Skye’s body heaved with deep sobs. “Oh, Mr. Wheaten, I just can’t help Jonathan. He hates me. I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Aw, little lady,” the big man said. He reached his muscular arms around Skye and drew her toward him. He patted her on the head. “That’s all right, Annie. You’ve done the best you could.”

“But—but I don’t want to disappoint you—or the Lord!” she cried, wiping her nose on her arm.

“Oh, you haven’t,” Mr. Wheaten said in a consoling voice. “I think you just need a rest from all this pressure. Don’t feel so bad. I’ll reassign Jonathan and his classes to Tim and Linda. Maybe my wife can help too. Now don’t you worry your pretty little head over this. We’ll help this kid yet.”

Skye stepped back from the man and stared into his compassionate eyes. “But I can’t! And I wanted to help him. I feel like such a failure!”

“Well, now, the summer’s just startin’. You can work with him again, if you want to. Maybe in a week or two, you’ll feel strong enough to try it. What do ya say?”

Skye pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. “If you say so, Mr. Wheaten. This might be the best thing for all of us, especially Jonathan.”

Mr. Wheaten looked around and then focused on the barn. “Is he still in there?”

“Yeah.” Skye sniffled.

“You tend to the horses,” Mr. Wheaten said. “I’ll get Tim, and we’ll take care of Jonathan. Sooner or later, he’s gotta learn to listen.”

“I sure hope it’s not later,” Skye said, walking toward the corral.

“Me too, little lady,” Mr. Wheaten said. “Me too.”