Eventually, Jay and Hal got us to shore. We were the last to arrive because the boys were not too adept with the canoe. Twice, Abby and I had offered to take over the paddles, which I know would have cut our time across the lake in two, but the boys kept saying that no, no, they were going to get us there themselves. (Jay actually added, “By hook or by crook,” and Hal said, “Righto, gov’ner,” and once again Abby and I couldn’t look at each other.)
At last we struggled out of the canoe and were back on shore. Abby and I thanked the boys and ran for the party as fast as we could, hoping we weren’t being too rude. The party was held under a big tent, which was decorated with lanterns and strings of colored lights. And the food table featured really great stuff — make-your-own s’mores, ice cream, popcorn, chips, cookies. Maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but after days and days of mess-hall food it seemed like paradise.
Anyway, kids were dancing, talking, hanging out, walking around on the shore of the lake. After Abby and I got something to eat we took our food to one of the docks and sat there eating and chatting. A few other kids were already there and after awhile two guys (NOT Jay and Hal) sat down next to us. They said something about the food, we said something about Jay and Hal and the canoe, and before you know it we had introduced ourselves and the four of us were talking away a mile a minute, as if we’d known each other all our lives.
Note: The boys’ names were Dan and Barry, and they were not only nice, they were extremely cute.
We sat on the dock with Dan and Barry for most of the evening. When the party ended I suddenly felt all tongue-tied. What were we supposed to do now? We weren’t going to see the boys again, and I didn’t want some awkward good-bye. Abby saved the day. She smoothly produced a pad of paper, wrote down our addresses for Dan and Barry, and took down their addresses. Then we climbed into a canoe with two other girls, and Abby cheerily called good-bye to the boys. Awkward moment avoided. Abby is the greatest.
More later.
Love,
Kristy
July 16
Dear Kristy,
I got your letter this morning. Thank you. I love hearing about camp, the schedule, etc. Our letters keep crossing in the mail. By now you probably already know that I’m trying to work things out with Logan. It isn’t easy, though. But enough about that. My last letter to you was all about Logan.
The nicest thing happened this afternoon. Grandma and I were sweltering on our little back porch when I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to answer the front door and found Jessi, Mal, and Shannon standing there. They were holding a large box and they were grinning.
“Hi, you guys,” I said.
“Hi,” they replied, still grinning.
“Well … what’s up?”
None of them stopped grinning. “Can we come inside?” asked Jessi.
“Sure, but it’s actually cooler outside.”
“Really?” Mal looked dubious.
“Really. Over there in the shade.”
The four of us sat on these lawn chairs that Sharon had placed in the shade of several enormous oak trees. Then Mal handed the box to me.
“What’s this?” I asked. Everyone was acting so strange, like three cats who had swallowed canaries.
“Open it,” said Shannon.
I opened the carton and inside I found a large album and all sorts of arts-and-crafts materials. It looked like a very fun box, but I still wasn’t sure what it was or what was going on.
Jessi saved me from having to ask too many questions. “It’s so you can make a memory book,” she said. “See? You can decorate this album, and all the pages in the album, and create new memories.”
“All the memories the future is bound to bring,” added Mal dramatically.
“Whether you’re in Stoneybrook or philadelphia,” said Shannon.
Well, as you can imagine, my eyes misted up. For a few seconds everything was a big teary blur. “Thanks, you guys,” I said. I hugged each of them. They were still grinning away.
Then we dove into the box of stuff. “Look, you can make different pages for different subjects,” said Mal. “You could have a first-day-of-school page, a birthday page, a members-of-your-family page, a page just for Tigger.”
The four of us plopped down on the ground under the trees and began planning my new memory book. I feel a teensy bit better now. I can’t bring back the photos and other mementos I lost, but as Mal said, I can create new memories.
If we end up moving to Philadelphia, Kristy, what am I going to do without my wonderful friends?
Love,
Mary Anne
P.S. Grandma still hasn’t opened any of those packages she brought with her. I am getting awfully curious.
From: CKishi
Subject: LOBSTER
To: NYCGirl
Date: Saturday, July 17
Time: 9:32:49 P.M.
Stacey are you there. Its me again. I mean its Claudia in case somehow you can’t tell. Are you checking your email. Maybe not.
Anyway I have not broken my lobster eating streek yet. The way I had lobster today was GREAT. I have learned something improtent. Its one thing to eat lobster. But the WAY you eat it can realy add to the experience.
This morning dad said What about a picnic lunch?
We all thought this was a good idea but then Janine said What about a LOBSTER picnic lunch. That sounded even better! Here is what we did. Mom and janine ran right to Fish R us and bought four whole small lobsters. They brought them back to the house, cooked them and put them in the frige. While they were cooling, dad and I prepared the rest of are lunch — develed eggs, a fruit salad, and a big thermis of ice tea. Just after noon we set out. We walked along the beach with are picnic until we reached Lobster Cove. Get it? A lobster picnic at lobster cove.
Lobster cove is where the old shipwreck is. We chose a nice flat spot not to far form the shipwreck and spread out are food. Yum. What a feast.
You know Stacey if I had been in Stoneybrook I think I would have been bored the second we finished eating. I mean what else was there to do. You can’t swim in the water there and I had forgoten my sketch pad. Everyone else had remembered to bring something to do. Dad and Janine were reading, and Mom was knitting. But you know what I wasn’t bored. I just sat on a rock and stared out to sea. I looked for seals. I tried to identafy birds. I’ve have been looking for puffins but I have not seen any yet. I imaginned how the shipwreck happened.
I dont quite know the words to discribe Monhegan, but they are all good words.
Hey I just thought of something. While I was sitting on the beach thinking and imagining maybe I was meditatting. I’m not sure. But if thats meditatting its a very nice thing.
What is going on with you and your father and Ethan now. Well maybe I’ll get a leter from you tomorrow. Or a email.
Love You Lots!
Claud
July 19
Dear Mary Anne,
I am speechless. I am so speechless that my brain can’t even tell my hand what to write. I tried recording this in my journal but I could barely get any words out, so I thought I’d write to you instead.
Mary Anne, there must be something very bad in the air this summer. Or maybe there is bad karma around me. Or I’m giving off a bad aura. Something. Because there has to be an explanation for what is happening.
Here is today’s bad news.
Abby quit the BSC.
Can you believe it?
I couldn’t. Not at first. I thought she was making a very unkind and cruel joke. But she wasn’t.
It was our free hour and everyone was meandering out of their cabins, trying to decide what they wanted to do. I was thinking about riding one of the horses, and I called to Abby to see if there was any way she could come along. (So far, she starts sneezing when she’s still yards away from the horses.)
“Kristy,” she said. “I was about to ask you if you wanted to come with me.”
“Where?”
“Down to the d
ock or someplace. Where we can talk.”
Right away I was suspicious. “Talk about what?”
“Well … let me tell you when we’re all settled. You want a Mars Bar?”
“Not as badly as I want you to tell me whatever it is.”
Abby gave me the Mars Bar anyway. Then we decided just to sit on the porch of our cabin. Abby waited until I’d taken a bite of candy. Then she said, “Kristy, I’ve decided to drop out of the Baby-sitters Club.”
I nearly choked. “WHAT?? Why? Why are you dropping out? I hope you have a really good reason!” This is when I briefly thought maybe this was just a bad joke.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ll think it’s a good reason, but it seems like a good reason to me.” Abby looked at the ground for a few moments, then she went on. “Kristy, this was a difficult decision for me, but I finally realized that the BSC just takes up too much of my time. I want more time for soccer. And I could afford to spend a little more time on my homework. And I’d just like some FREE time. You know, time to hang out and do whatever I feel like doing. Camp has been so great. I’d forgotten what it feels like to have free time, instead of running from school to soccer to a BSC meeting to a sitting job.
“So anyway I’ve decided to drop out. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s my final decision.”
And that was the end of that. I stood up and left Abby sitting on the porch. I haven’t spoken to her since. She is not my friend. How could she be anybody’s friend? She’s a traitor, a wimp, a bad sport, and extremely lazy.
Love,
Kristy
Monday, July 19th
Dear diary,
I am so confused. Everything is a jumble in my brain. Dad still doesn’t know what to do about the job in Philadelphia, so I feel like I’m in two places at once. Grandma came, which was good. (What is in those boxes, though?) My friends gave me a way to make a memory book, which was great, but now I can’t stop thinking of all we lost.
And then there’s Logan. He hasn’t called since the night of our awful “date.” I’ve tried calling him. In fact, I’ve called him so often that now I’m embarrassed to call again. He never answers the phone, so I always have to speak to his father or his sister or someone. Or else I have to think of a message to leave on the Brunos’ machine. How many times can I say, “Just tell him that Mary Anne called, okay?” or (to the machine), “Hi, Logan. It’s me. Again. Give me a call back.” Since he never calls back I feel like an idiot.
Now here’s the bad part. (I think Kristy would call it the sick part.) Since I haven’t been in touch with him, I’m starting to miss him. I keep thinking of what a big part of my life he is. He waits for me at my locker every day. We walk to and from school together. We talk on the phone every single night, even if we’ve just seen each other. We go to the movies together. He eats half of his meals at my house. We’ve been on trips together and had adventures together.
I’m lonely without him.
From: NYCGirl
Subject: Samantha
To: CKishi
Date: Monday, July 19
Time: 2:57:43 P.M.
Claudia —
I can’t believe we can e-mail each other! This is so great! (Bad, bad Janine for sneaking her computer along on your back-to-nature vacation — and yet, good, good Janine. Mentally, I am thanking her.)
I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you. It hadn’t occurred to me to check my e-mail on Dad’s computer, but this afternoon I got really bored, so I did. Why was I bored? Because I used up my 14 hours with Ethan over the weekend, and now I won’t see him again until Saturday. Does that answer your question, by the way? Nothing has changed where Dad and Ethan are concerned.
Did you get my letter about Samantha? Can you believe Dad’s nerve? How could he entertain the idea of her moving in here? For one thing, there isn’t enough room in the medicine cabinet for her makeup and stuff.
Write back soon.
Love,
Stacey
From: CKishi
Subject: Monhegans artists
To: NYCGirl
Date: Monday, July 19
Time: 10:31:25 P.M.
Hi Stace!
I’m am so glad you finaly checked your dads computter. And I’m realy sorry about you and Ethen. Have you tried talking about ethan with your Dad lately. Maybe he has changed his mind.
Oh and yes I got your leter about Samanta. Wow there sure is alot going on in you life. Tell me the real reason you dont want samantha to move in it couldn’t realy be the medcine cabinat.
Stacey the most amazing thing has hapened since I wrote to you on Satruday. I’ve have known for a while that lot’s of artists come to Monhegan to paint and sketch. And lots of people who simply like art like me come here to paint and sketch. I mean they just take the fairy over for a day they don’t live here. Half the people who get off the farry (their are two farries and they arrive a few times a day) are holding sketchpads. Later you see them walking around sketching. Theirs so much to sketch — the cliffs, the ocean, the sky, the woods, the shipewreck. Then they get back on the ferry at the end of the day and leave.
But what I just found out today is that lots of serious artists live here all summer. One of them is Charles Martin well he’s not alive anymore but he used to have a house here and come to Monhegan sumer after summer. He drew cartoons, and he ilustraited several books for children plus he did beautiful pantings and drawings. Theres a whole exibit of his work here.
Thats not all. I discoverd that some of the artists who live here open there studeos and you can walk around the iland and tour the studeos. You can watch the artists at work or view there work or just talk to them.
Thats what I spend yesterday doing. I went by myself. I just went form studeo to studeo. I looked at so many wonderful paintings and sculptures. It was like living in a musum. Some of the artists were busy so I didnt talk to them, but I talked to about four others. They shared their work with me and asked me what kind of work I like to do. And this one REALY cool artist her name is Rachael Mann (I know thats speled right becuase she gave me her card) we talked for ONE HALF HOUR. She talked to me like a adult.
Monhegan is a wonderfull place Stace.
Your exited friend,
Claud
July 20
Dear Mary Anne,
It’s been more than 24 hours since Abby gave me her news. I’ve managed not to speak to her since then. This has not been easy. When I first left Abby (sitting on the porch with her mouth hanging open) she ran after me.
“Kristy? Kristy?” she kept saying. But I just walked faster and faster until she had to run to keep up with me.
“Aren’t you going to say anything? … Kristy? … Are you ignoring me?” (Duh.) “Kristy, this is so juvenile.” (Well, I certainly wasn’t going to answer her if she was going to say mean things about me.)
Abby tried once more. “Kristy? … Kristy? … KRISTY!”
We had reached the softball field by then and lots of kids were milling around, including several of our campers. Abby didn’t want to make a scene, so finally she left me alone. Since I wasn’t responsible for our campers at the moment, I stalked off to the edge of the woods so I could think in peace. I sat under this big tree until dinnertime. In the mess hall I positioned myself as far from Abby as possible — not an easy task since we have to eat at the same table, but at least we sat at opposite ends of the table and on the same side, so it was hard to see each other.
The evening group activity was relay races and I made sure not to be on Abby’s team. Afterward, back in our cabin, I simply refused to speak to her. At lights-out, for the first time since I arrived at camp, I actually got into bed and went to sleep.
When I woke up this morning, I found a note pinned to my blanket. I knew it was from Abby, so I unpinned it, threw the pin down onto her bunk, crumpled the paper, and threw it away. When “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” came on I let Abby go on sleeping, and I managed to get out of the top bunk wit
hout disturbing her. She was awakened later by Marcia leaning into her face and calling her an irresponsible CIT. Ha.
Anyway, I could go on and on, Mary Anne, but you get the picture. It is now 8:45 P.M. We are in our cabin. I am lying on my bunk writing to you. Everyone else is writing a song. (Our campers decided we should have a special 8-A song, about what a great cabin we are.)
Here’s how many times Abby tried to speak to me today: 14.
Here’s how many times I answered her: 0.
Now she seems annoyed with me. Well, it’s good for her. I’m annoyed with her. Beyond annoyed. Furious. Beyond furious. (What comes after furious? I don’t know. But whatever it is, that’s what I am tonight.)
How could I have thought Abby was my friend?
So tell me — what’s going on with you and Logan? Have you managed to have The Talk with him yet?
Love,
Beyond Furious Kristy
Tuesday, July 20th
Good evening, diary,
I had such a nice talk with Grandma tonight. I realized something — she’s the perfect person to talk to because she’s a newcomer. That didn’t come out right. She’s good to talk to because she’s an impartial party (just had to go look that up). That’s what I mean. Impartial. Sometimes it’s hard to talk to my friends about Logan or about moving, because they know Logan, and because of course they don’t want me to move. So we have these very one-sided conversations. On the one hand, my friends are saying all the things I want to hear. On the other hand, this isn’t very helpful.
So anyway, I talked to Grandma about some of this stuff tonight. Grandma doesn’t have a stake in any of it (well, except that she wants me to be happy). That means we have more realistic conversations. I started off talking about the idea of moving. (I couldn’t quite bring myself to discuss Logan with her. I just don’t feel comfortable yet talking about my boyfriend with my grandmother.) Anyway, Grandma was great. She asked me to tell her all my fears about moving. Then she asked me to tell her the good things. That took me by surprise. I had thought there weren’t any good things, but as soon as I started thinking, I came up with a few. Now I feel sort of relieved.
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