Tug-of-War (3 page)

“Jeez, I hope you brought a gallon of sunscreen!” These were the first words out of Maggie's mouth when she saw Devon. It was really rude, but I knew she honestly didn't mean it that way. Thoughts had a way of popping into her head and draining out of her brain down to her mouth without ever stopping along the way. She had no control over the whole process.

She was looking Devon up and down. “You are one white kid! I've never seen anyone so pale!”

My mom says that with her silky black hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, Devon looks just like a china doll. At least she has sense enough not to say that in front of Devon.

“Do you fry like a slab of bacon in the sun? If you
didn't bring any sunscreen, you can use some of mine. I mean, I burn too. Look at these freckles.” Maggie leaned forward to give Devon a good look, as if you could miss them.

“I have my own sunscreen.”

I didn't
see
frost come out of Devon's mouth, but I felt it, and I'm sure Maggie did too. The whole cabin seemed twenty degrees colder.

“Oh yeah, I've got plenty too,” I added. “So, which bed do you want, Devon?” Maybe if I distracted the two of them, things wouldn't get any worse.

She didn't answer. Now it was her turn to look Maggie up and down. “Did you raid your brother's closet? Or did your parents always want a boy?”

Maggie laughed. “Actually, I
did
raid my brother's closet!” She did a 360-degree turn to model the red Camp Crockett football jersey she was wearing. A Camp Crockett baseball cap was turned around backward, barely hanging on over her mass of dark red curls.

“Maggie's brother Jackson goes to Camp Crockett,” I told Devon. “You'll meet him at the dances.” I could hardly wait to see Jackson again. He was gorgeous. And I've been absolutely in love with him since I met him last year.

“Yeah, he's my big brother, so when I came along,
my parents were actually hoping for a girl. Think they were disappointed?” Maggie asked with a grin.

Devon stared at Maggie for about ten seconds without saying a word. Finally she asked, “Do you speak Spanish?”

“No, why?” asked Maggie.

“Good.
Mi gato se comió tu salchichas
.”

“Hey, thanks!” Maggie answered cheerfully. “Same to you!”

I turned away from both of them, because I was choking on a laugh. Devon thought she'd just given Maggie the worst possible insult, when she'd actually said, “My cat ate your sausages.”

Devon envied my being able to speak Spanish. She would love to be bilingual too, and she was constantly begging me to teach her Spanish, especially curse words. I usually taught her some random, meaningless phrase to make her happy.

One set of metal bunk beds was pushed against the front wall of the cabin, and the other was against the opposite wall. “Okay, let's figure out the sleeping arrangement. Maggie's obviously got one top bunk. Devon, you want bottom or top?”

Devon looked at the empty bunks and then back at me. “A bottom, of course.”

Maggie sat down on the empty bottom bunk under hers. “Well, this one's for Chris. You can have the other bottom,” she told Devon, pointing to the bunks on the far wall. Then she looked up at me and grinned. “Just like last year, huh, Chris?”

I unzipped my duffel and dug around inside for some clean sheets, acting like I hadn't heard her comment. Last year Maggie had the top bunk, and I'd had the bottom. It was great because we would whisper to each other for a long time after lights-out.

But now Devon was here. Maybe I should take the other top bunk so she and I could whisper together.

Devon opened her trunk and took out some plain white sheets to make up her bed. No Scooby-Doo for her.

“Want me to help you make up your bed, Chris?” Maggie offered. She glanced over at Devon, who kept banging her head on the springs of the top bunk above her and muttering under her breath,
“¡Sobacos!”
which just meant “armpits.”

By now I'd pulled out my sky blue sheets with white clouds and rainbows all over them. It was time to make a decision. Lower bunk under Maggie or top bunk above Devon? I wondered if I had a quarter in my duffel someplace. I might have to flip for it.

But at that moment Wayward walked in with another
camper. Wayward was wearing sunglasses and this funky plaid hat like snowboarders wear. “Hey, Chris. How's it going?” she asked when she saw me, like we'd just seen each other five minutes ago instead of sometime last summer. I felt honored that she even remembered who I was.

“I guess you're Devon. This is Betsy Smith.”

Maggie gave Wayward a stern look. “Where's your official Pine Haven polo, missy?”

Wayward had on a green T-shirt from some ski resort in Colorado and a pair of khaki shorts. It probably annoyed Eda, the camp director, that Wayward was only sort of following the counselors' dress code. All the other counselors had on white shorts and their matching green Pine Haven polos with a little pine tree on them.

“Don't know. It's probably around here someplace.” She smiled slowly and looked around. “Oh yeah, name tags.”

She picked up a pile of wooden tags lying on a shelf by her cot and passed them around to the four of us. Everyone was supposed to wear them for the first week, until we all got to know each other.

Devon held hers up by the plastic string. “Did beavers make these?”

They were little oblong slices of wood—they actually looked like someone took a chainsaw and sawed up a limb from a tree, because there was still bark all around the edges.

“So,” said Wayward, “y'all do whatever you feel like . . . and I'll be back. Eventually. Be Zen.” Then she walked out.

Devon and Betsy, the new girl, both stared at the screen door as it banged closed.

“You do realize we got
the
coolest counselor at Pine Haven, don't you?” I said.

“Be Zen,” Devon said, and nodded approvingly. I could tell Wayward was the first thing she actually liked about camp so far.

Betsy smiled shyly at us, waiting for someone to show her what to do.

And now, since all the campers on Side A were here, I had to make a decision—whether to share bunk beds with Maggie or Devon.

Why couldn't we have ended up with some single cots instead of two sets of bunk beds? That way maybe I could've picked a bed in between Devon and Maggie.

When Betsy noticed that Devon was busy putting sheets on her bed, she hesitated for a few seconds and then opened up her trunk.

So I tossed my sheets and pillow on the top bunk
above Devon. “Betsy, do you want the bottom bunk under Maggie?” I asked, feeling Maggie's eyes on me.

She shrugged and smiled. “Sure, that's fine.” She was kind of on the tall side, and her blond hair was cut in a short wedge and parted down the middle.

The thing was,
I
wanted the top bunk, and not because I thought Devon wanted me close by. I just preferred the top. But I didn't want Maggie to feel like I was deserting her for Devon. I definitely wasn't.

“Do you mind, Windsoroni?” I asked Maggie when she gave me a quick glance.

Devon looked up from where she was sitting on her bottom bunk. “Windsoroni? Is that anything like Beefaroni?”

“Windsor is Maggie's last name. She always called me Christina Kachina last year, so I call her Windsoroni.”

Devon cupped her hands over her mouth and started heaving. Maggie jumped up. “You okay?”

“No, I'm not. Your stupid nicknames are making me seriously ill.”

“Ah, jealous? Don't worry about that. You'll get your own nickname pretty soon.” Maggie wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully. “How about Ghosty? Or . . . what was your last name? Fairchild? I got it!” Maggie snapped her fingers. “Palechild!”

Devon looked past Maggie at me. “Do you hear an annoying buzzing sound? At first I thought it was someone talking, but now I think it's a fly.” She focused her gaze on Maggie. “Got a fly swatter, Chris?”

“Oh, I get it!” Maggie said with a big, goofy grin. “You think I'm a pest! Just wait—I'm barely warmed up. I can be fifty times more annoying than this!”

“I don't doubt that for a minute,” said Devon.

Maybe it was the stress of having to pick a bed. Whatever it was, I snapped. “Stop it! You two just met five seconds ago, and you already hate each other!” I yelled. Betsy was quietly sitting on the edge of her bottom bunk, watching all this.

Devon fluttered her eyelashes at me. “That's an overreaction.”

Maggie nodded and shook her finger in my direction. “Temper, temper!”

The only thing more annoying than having my two best friends already arguing was the way they both always acted so cool and calm while I was losing it.

I took a deep breath. “Play nice, okay?” Maggie smiled sweetly and Devon shook her head and turned away. Betsy got busy making up her bottom bunk.

Once I lost my temper, it was always hard for me to
cool down again. I tried to distract myself by putting on my sheets and unpacking some stuff.

I dug out all my Converse high-tops in shades of aqua, purple, and orange, along with the red and yellow mates to the ones I had on my feet. Then I pulled out my final and favorite pair—my new see-through high-tops. I'd just bought them last weekend with some birthday money. They were waterproof, and the second I saw them, I had to have them. Wearing see-through sneakers would give me all kinds of new possibilities to make my socks a fashion statement. I lined all my shoes up under a bottom shelf by the wall.

Then I unpacked Melvin, my bear. I'd made him myself when I was seven at one of those workshops, and he had on red flannel pajamas and a matching nightcap.

Maggie grabbed him and hugged him. “Melvin, how ya been?” Then she propped him up against my pillow on my top bunk. I was glad she didn't seem too upset about the whole bunk bed thing.

When we heard the bell ringing, we all went to the dining hall for lunch. I explained to Devon that we'd sit at a table with our counselors and the other Cabin Four girls. Maggie and I kept seeing old friends from last year, and every time we stopped to talk to someone, Devon would yawn. It was like we were forcing
her to listen to us recite the world capitals in reverse alphabetical order.

At lunch we got to meet the rest of the Side B girls. Kayla we'd already met in the cabin. She was pretty and slender, and there was something really graceful about the way she walked, like a ballet dancer. She had short hair and she was African American. The other new girl on Side B was Shelby Parsons, a really skinny girl with long bangs that almost hid her eyes. Boo Bauer I sort of knew from last summer. Every time Laurel-Ann went off on some long-winded discussion, Boo would lean over and say, “Hyphen-Ann, be careful you don't swallow your tongue.”

Boo had blond hair and glasses, and she was a little on the chunky side. Even her name tag said “Boo” on it, so I wasn't sure what her real name was. She took one look at Shelby sitting next to her and said, “Here, have another taco. Or two, or three.”

Shelby looked embarrassed. “I do eat. A lot. I just can't seem to gain weight.”

“That's the same problem I have!” Boo insisted, which got a huge laugh.

I was just relieved to have other people around so that I didn't feel so torn between explaining things to Devon and catching up with Maggie.

Gloria Mendoza was the newbie counselor Laurel-Ann had groaned about, although I thought she looked nice enough, maybe a little on the shy side. She had dark brown hair and green eyes.

After lunch, there was rest hour, and while Gloria was getting to know her Side B campers, Wayward said we could do whatever we wanted. She covered her face with her cap and fell instantly asleep.

“How very Zen of her,” Devon commented.

Betsy was busy unpacking. She dropped a little plastic case on the floor, and her top and bottom retainers bounced out and rolled under her bed. She had to crawl under her bunk to get them out. “Gross!” she moaned, holding the bottom one up. It had a dust bunny clinging to one of the wires.

“I'd sanitize that thoroughly if I were you,” Devon advised.

When rest hour was over, I leaned down from my top bunk and smiled at Devon below me. “Now we go take our swim tests.”

Her reaction was just as I expected. “I will not swim in that swamp you call a lake. I can only imagine what diseases I could catch.”

Maggie let out a fake sneeze and scratched herself all over. “Jeez. Am I itchy! I think I'm getting some kind
of weird rash. Oh, well. A dip in the lake will cool me down.” I tried not to laugh. Maggie wasn't helping the situation at all.

After I'd gotten changed, I pulled my hair back, twisted it, and looped it into a loose knot. When I wanted my hair out of the way, I never bothered with clips or elastics. It was halfway down my back—wavy, thick, and dark—and usually I wore it down, except for swimming or sports.

I turned to Devon, who hadn't moved from her bunk. “Just come with us. It's really not that different from swimming in a pool.”

“Sorry. I don't do lakes.” She was reading and wouldn't even look up at me.

“Devon, everyone has to take the swim test the first day. It's required.”

She lowered her book enough to make eye contact. “Required? So what happens if I don't take the swim test?”

“If you don't take the swim test, you can't go swimming. Or canoeing or kayaking. Basically, you can't go near the water. So you have to come,” I explained. I stood there with my towel, waiting.

“Hmm,” said Devon. “No test—I can't go near the water. Works for me.”