Tug-of-War (15 page)

I wondered how long it would take until I was pulled in two.

When the rising bell rang, I couldn't force my eyelids open. I felt shivery, so I pulled the covers up around my neck. Five more minutes. I just needed five more minutes of sleep.

“Wake up, sleepyheads!” I heard Gloria call from the other side of the cabin. She was always the perkiest in the mornings.

“Don't worry, I'm up! On school days, I wake up at five forty-five because I have to catch my bus by seven o'clock, so I'm used to getting up early. In the winter, it's still dark outside when I wake up. It's not hard to wake up once it's light outside, don't you agree?” Laurel-Ann was chattering away like a squirrel, and I wished I could throw my pillow across the cabin to shut her up.

“Whoa!
Righteous!
”

That made me open up one eyelid to see what was going on.

Wayward was sitting up in bed, holding a black top hat. “This is the sickest piece of headwear I've ever seen in my life!”

Maggie sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. “Where'd
that
come from?”

Wayward put the top hat on her head like it was a crown and then climbed out of bed and went to the mirror. She stood there in her pink boxers and tank top, gazing at herself.

Betsy sat up and squinted at Wayward in front of the mirror. “What's going on?”

Wayward turned around and looked wide-eyed at all of us. “Abe Lincoln's ghost. He must have visited me in the night and left me this hat.” She turned back to the mirror. “I love Abe Lincoln's ghost. He is one stylin' dude.”

By now, the Side B girls had figured out something was up with us.

“What's going on over here?” asked Boo. She came over in her flannel pajama bottoms and T-shirt and stared at the hat on Wayward's head. Laurel-Ann, Kayla, and Shelby had crowded in behind her.

“Hey, where's your regular hat?” asked Maggie, climbing down from her top bunk and scooting across the dusty wooden floor to Wayward's bed. The nail over Wayward's bed was empty. She always hung her plaid hat on it before she went to sleep.

Wayward looked around at Maggie and shrugged. “Don't know. Don't care.
This
is my hat now.”

“The phantom prankster has struck again!” Maggie announced. She plopped down on Wayward's bed and bounced up and down on it.

Boo glanced at Laurel-Ann. “Those laundry ladies keep picking on our cabin.”

“It's not the laundry ladies! I get it now. You don't have to keep reminding me,” Laurel-Ann insisted. Her long hair hung down around her shoulders, unbraided.

“I have one question. Where on earth did this phantom prankster find a black top hat?” Kayla asked.

“I know! The dress-up trunk in Junior Lodge. There's all kinds of weird clothes and costumes in there,” said Boo.

“Hey, come on, everyone. You still have your chores to do before inspection,” Gloria reminded us.

“Okay, but we have to find out who's responsible for this!” Laurel-Ann's voice was so shrill it made my head
ache. “First Devon, then Maggie, then Betsy, and now Wayward. That means the logical suspect is . . . Chris!”

I groaned and covered my head with my pillow. Why was everyone talking so loud? My back ached, and no matter how I shifted around, I couldn't get comfortable.

“Chris? Come on, time to get up.” I heard Gloria's muffled voice beside me and felt her patting my back.

I removed the pillow and looked at her. “I don't feel so great.”

“What's wrong?” she asked me. “Are you sick?” She put her hand on my forehead, and her palm felt so cool and soft.

“You're warm! I think you have a fever.”

Now I was suddenly the center of attention as everyone crowded around my bed.

“I think you need to go to the infirmary,” Gloria said softly. “Can you get up and get a few of your things together? I'll walk you down there.”

“I'll go with her. I've been there before,” Devon announced, throwing a dirty look in Maggie's direction.

Maggie looked at me with the same sad eyes she'd been watching me with for the past few days. I could tell she felt sorry for me and wanted to say something.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't mad anymore, but
everyone was standing around, and they were all talking, and my head was throbbing.

Meanwhile, Devon was gathering up my toothbrush, hairbrush, and some clean clothes from my duffel and putting them in her little overnight bag to carry to the infirmary.

“Can't I just stay in bed?” I asked Gloria. “All I want to do is sleep.”

“The nurse can give you something for your fever. And you may be contagious, so it's better to move you to the infirmary,” Gloria told me.

Wayward stood beside her in that ridiculous top hat. “The nurse rocks. She has popsicles.”

Somehow I managed to climb down from the top bunk, but my head felt heavy, like an oversize watermelon swiveling around on my neck. Devon handed me a robe. Everyone was watching me, and the cabin was too crowded and noisy. The sound of Laurel-Ann's breathing made me want to give her a shove, but I restrained myself.

Devon and I walked out of the cabin, and the cool morning air felt sort of comforting, but I couldn't stop shivering. We walked down the hill toward the infirmary beside the camp office. My flip-flops were sliding in the dewy grass.

On the dining hall porch, Eda was ringing the bell for breakfast. The thought of food made me suddenly nauseated. I hoped the nurse wouldn't make me eat anything.

When Devon and I opened the screen door to the nurse's office, she pursed her lips and looked concerned. “You two? Again? What do I need to bandage this time, Miss Ramirez?”

“My head hurts, and my back. And I think I have a fever,” I moaned, sinking into the wooden chair next to the scales. Nurse Linda was a nice blond lady who always wore scrubs. She opened a drawer and pulled out a digital thermometer. Devon leaned against the wall and waited.

“Open up,” she said, sticking it under my tongue. When it beeped, she pulled it out. “Oh, my—100.8. Let's get you into a bed.”

It was the first time I'd been inside the actual infirmary, past the nurse's office. Five single cots were lined up in a row, all with fresh white sheets on them. The wooden walls were painted a pale sickly green. Or maybe I just thought it looked terrible because I felt terrible.

Devon had followed us from the office to the infirmary, but Nurse Linda looked over her shoulder and
said, “I'll take it from here. You'd better get to the dining hall.”

So Devon handed me the bag with my stuff and left, and I crawled gratefully into one of the beds.

“I just sent Gracie Arbuckle back to her cabin last night after two nights here, so you're my only patient. But this has been going around—fever, chills, headache, body aches. It's viral, so there's not much I can do but give you something for your fever.”

She tucked me in and came back in a few minutes with some pills and a paper cup of water. I swallowed them and then sank back into bed and closed my eyes.

I didn't open them again for what felt like days. I slept and slept. The nurse tiptoed around and checked on me every now and then.

Sometime in the early afternoon, she brought me a cup of ginger ale on ice and some saltines. It was the coolest, most delicious drink I'd ever had in my life. And the saltines were amazing too. I licked all the salt crystals off to savor their flavor. Then I plopped back into bed and fell immediately asleep.

The next time I woke up, I was completely disoriented. I'd forgotten where I was, and I thought it was morning for a few seconds. When Nurse Linda saw that
I was awake, she came over and took my temperature again: 99.3.

“Better, but that doesn't mean your fever won't go up again when the acetaminophen wears off. How about a Popsicle?”

The buzzer sounded, which meant there was somebody in her office, ringing for her to come back.

“Uh-oh, I hope that's not another feverish patient.” She left to go answer the buzzer, and I lay in bed, curled up on my side. My back still felt achy.

Nurse Linda opened the door from the office and peeked in at me. “It's a visitor for you. And she brought a friend of yours.” She was holding Melvin.

I sat up in bed and smiled. “Is it Devon? Can she come in for a few minutes?”

“No, it's not Devon. And you're contagious, so she can't come in. You can say hi to her through the window screen.”

I crawled out of bed and went over to the window screen to peek out. If it wasn't Devon, it must be . . .

“Hi, Maggie,” I said. My voice sounded rusty.

“Hey, how ya feeling?” she asked. She had to look up to see me because the height of the window was over her head.

I pressed my forehead against the screen. It smelled
dusty and metallic. “A little better. Thanks for bringing me Melvin.”

“Sure. He didn't want to sleep without you tonight.” She smiled and stood there for a few seconds. “Are you still mad at me, Chris?”

“No, not anymore.” I tried to think of what to say next. It didn't help that I felt all wobbly, and my head was hurting again.

“Well, I just wanted to say I'm really, really,
really
sorry that I made us broach on the rock. It was all my fault! And you got those cuts and scrapes and everything. I'm such an idiot sometimes. My brain really did go floating down the river that day.”

Hearing that made me cringe. All the mean things I'd said came rushing back to me. “You're not an idiot, Maggie. Honestly—I'm not mad anymore. I was going to tell you that today, if I got a chance.”

I cleared my throat and tried to think of how I wanted to bring up what I'd said. About the vacancy sign in her head and everything.

“Hey, Wayward's still wearing that top hat around. She's had it on all day! And we all think Boo's the guilty one. She swears she isn't, but none of the rest of us knew that the Juniors had a trunk full of dress-up costumes in their lodge—did you?”

“Nope, I don't think I've ever even been inside Junior Lodge.”

“I know! Boo's like, ‘Hey, I can't help it that I'm the only one who's been coming to Pine Haven since I was eight.' So mystery's solved, don't you think?”

“Sounds like it. I'm glad nobody's blaming me just because I'm the only one who hasn't been pranked. So far.” The screen made Maggie's face blurry.

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot to mention—I'm even being nice to Devon today!”

“Really?” I laughed. “That's hard to imagine.”

“Well, we both miss you. Think you'll be out of there tomorrow?” Maggie asked, gazing up at me.

“I'm not sure. I hope so. I guess it depends on if this fever goes away.”

“Well, I hope you'll be back tomorrow. If I'm nice to Devon, you can hang out with both of us at the same time. That is—if you want to hang out with me again.”

“Of course I do!” I told her. I cleared my throat again. I should say something.

“Okay, well . . . see you later!” Maggie waved and stepped away from the screen.

“Hey, Maggie?” I called, pressing my nose against the screen. “Uh . . . I just wanted to say . . . thanks. For coming to see me. And bringing me Melvin.”

She grinned. “No problem.” Then she turned and jogged away before I could say anything else.

I went back to my bed and crawled between the sheets, hugging Melvin tight. His little red flannel nightcap covered up one eye, and his red bear tongue stuck out at me. The sheets felt so cool and delicious, and I pulled them close around my chin.

Okay, so I'd wimped out of telling Maggie I was sorry. But then, she didn't seem to be expecting me to apologize. I could write her a note when I got back to the cabin. That way I'd be able to think of exactly the right words.

I chuckled at the thought of Devon and Maggie actually getting along for a change. I'd have to see that to believe it.