Chapter Five
I, Amber Brown, am one unhappy camper. I am standing on the dock in my swimsuit. I am shivering . . . . . . . . not just because it’s morning and it’s cold. I’m shivering because it’s our bunk’s turn for the swimming test.
Pete blows a whistle. “Listen up, campers! We’ll be testing two people at a time. Jump in and start swimming. You can use any stroke, just do what you can. Remember, it takes eight laps to be certified for the climbing rock.”
I am at the back of the line. What am I going to do? I can’t jump in the deep water. But I don’t want to admit in front of everyone that I can’t swim.
Grace is standing in front of me. “Did you know this is the deepest lake in New Jersey?”
I shake my head. I didn’t know that, and I wish I still didn’t know it. But now that I do know, how can I forget it?
Hannah and Cleo are at the front of the line. Hannah makes a perfect dive. Cleo just jumps. They both swim eight laps with no problem.
Treasure and Shannon go next. Treasure does eight laps but Shannon gives up after six. Pete tells her that she’ll be in the Guppy group, and she should be able to do the full eight by next week.
Now Grace and I are at the edge of the dock. Grace jumps in. I just stand there.
“Go ahead, Amber,” Pete says.
“I can’t do it,” I whisper.
“Not at all?” he asks. “Not even one lap?”
I shake my head. I am trying not to cry, but I am really, really embarrassed. It doesn’t help that I can hear Hannah snickering somewhere behind me.
Pete puts a hand on my shoulder. “No problem,” he says. “I am going to have you swimming like a Minnesota minnow before you know it.”
“Don’t worry, Amber,” Hannah calls from the edge of the dock. “When we go fishing, you can be the sinker.”
Pete blows his whistle. “Put-down violation! Off the dock, Hannah. Go sit on the beach.”
Hannah glares at me, then flounces off the dock.
• • •
After the swimming test, we head for the bunk to change for our first visit to the riding rink. Carrie told us at breakfast that the rule for the stables is no shorts and no sandals.
I am still embarrassed about not being able to swim. What if horseback riding is the same way and everybody except me already knows how to do it?
When I said I wanted to go to camp, I didn’t realize how many new things I was going to have to try!
As we head for the horses, Hannah links arms with Treasure and Grace. She has not spoken to me since swimming, which is fine.
Six horses, already saddled, are waiting in the ring. They are tied to the fence. Carrie is in the middle of the ring. She has on riding boots that come up to her knees. She is also wearing a helmet. I think bicycle helmets are ugly, but this helmet is actually cute.
“You kids are lucky,” Carrie tells us as she passes out helmets. “Camp Cushetunk has a long riding tradition. We have some wonderful and well-trained horses for you to get to know.”
“They’re awfully big,” I say.
I already knew horses are big . . . . . but I hadn’t realized how big until we were standing right in front of them.
Carrie puts her hand on the neck of one of the horses. “Amber, let’s get you started on Cinnamon.”
Unlike me, Cinnamon actually is the same color as her name. I expect Hannah to make some joke about this, but she is standing at the back of the group, looking nervous.
“You’re going to love Cinnamon,” Carrie tells me. “She’s a sweetheart. Put your helmet on and come meet her.”
I look at Cinnamon. She has a white blaze on her forehead. It’s pretty, and she may be a sweetheart, but the way she is switching her tail back and forth makes me nervous.
Carrie gestures to me. I strap on the helmet and walk over. Carrie takes my hand and tells me to let Cinnamon smell it.
“She won’t bite?” I ask.
Carrie smiles. “No. I told you, she’s a sweetie.”
Next, Carrie lifts my hand and puts it on Cinnamon’s neck. It is warm and smooth.
“Riders always mount from the left,” Carrie says. She cups her hands. “Give me your foot.”
“Right now?” I ask. “Don’t Cinnamon and I have to get to know each other better first?”
“You’ll get to know each other from the saddle. That’s where the rider belongs . . . . . on top. Hold on to the saddle with both hands.”
I stretch up. My fingertips just reach the saddle.
“Foot!” Carrie orders.
I give her my left foot.
“Up you go!”
Somehow, without even knowing what I’m doing, I swing my right leg around, and all at once I’m in the saddle. But I’m not sitting . . . . . I’ve tipped forward and my face has fallen on Cinnamon’s mane. It isn’t nearly as soft as her neck. In fact, it’s kind of prickly.
I push myself back up.
“Great!” Carrie adjusts my stirrups. “Now pat Cinnamon and tell her sweet nothings while I get the other kids mounted.”
It’s awfully high up, but I can see all the way across the meadow. I decide to tell Cinnamon that. “You have a nice view,” I say, patting her neck. She nods. Is she listening to me?
Carrie is busy getting the other girls on their horses. Hannah goes last, and she looks really unhappy.
“It’s a long way to the ground,” she complains to Carrie.
“Good reason to stay in the saddle,” Carrie answers.
This is the first time I have seen Hannah act as if she didn’t think she could do something better than everyone else.
The idea makes me kind of happy. That makes me feel a little guilty.
“Well, I can’t be nice all the time,” I whisper to Cinnamon.
She nods again.
I think I am going to love her.
Chapter Six
Dear Dad,
You wanted me to tell you about the first days of camp, so here goes. First off, I like the camp and I like my bunkmates, mostly. I also like our counselor, “Carrie from Kiev.”
What I don’t like is the fact that I am a “Polliwog.” That’s what they call the group for kids who can’t swim at all. I have to stay in a roped-off area called the Polliwog Pond until I learn to swim.
That’s the bad news.
The good news is that I have a “natural seat.” You probably didn’t think I had an artificial bottom anyway, but a natural seat means that I am a natural on a horse.
Oh, Dad! I can’t tell you how much I love it! The horse I ride is named Cinnamon, and when I am on her back I feel tall and strong. I have had three riding lessons so far, and they are the best, best, best part of camp. Well, actually Justin being here is the best, best, best part of camp. But this is almost as good.
I hope you are doing all right without me. Ha Ha. Please tell Miss Isobel I said hello, and pat Mewkiss Membrane for me.
Your loving daughter,
PS: Do you suppose that I could have a horse for Christmas??
PPS: Only kidding.
PPPS: Or maybe not . . .
Chapter Seven
BOOM!
That is the sound of a huge burst of thunder.
“Aaaaaah!” This is the sound of Cleo screaming.
Treasure laughs. “Relax, Cleo, this is fun!”
“I agree,” Grace says. “I think lightning is excit’ning.”
I like thunderstorms too. But a thunderstorm when you are safe in your own home is very different from a thunderstorm when you are in a small cabin in the woods . . . . . especially at night.
We hear a sizzle of lightning, and the cabin goes dark. It’s not lights-out . . . . . . well, yes, the lights do go out. But not because it is time for bed.
“It’s okay, everybody,” Car
rie says. “It’s just a power outage.” She lights a lantern. Holding it up to her face, she adds, “I think this is a good night for a story.”
“YAY!” we all shout.
“Okay, gather ’round.”
We sit in a circle on the floor. Carrie perches on Hannah’s bunk. She looks at the door, then back at us. “You have to promise not to tell anyone about this.”
“Why?” Hannah asks.
Carrie lowers her voice. “Because I’m about to tell you something I shouldn’t. So it’s silence, okay?”
We all nod.
Carrie smiles and dims the lantern so there’s just a little glow around her.
As the wind howls outside the cabin, she says, “I’m going to tell you the story of the Lake Cushetunk Monster.”
“Cushie, the demon of the deep!” Treasure and Grace say in unison.
Carrie nods. “The camp doesn’t like us to talk about Cushie.”
“Why?” Hannah asks.
Treasure rolls her eyes. “Because it would be bad for business, obviously! Stop interrupting!”
“All right, you know how deep Lake Cushetunk is?” Carrie says.
“The deepest lake in New Jersey,” Cleo murmurs. She sounds a little scared.
“Yes,” Carrie says in a low, spooky voice, “the deepest. And in the deepest recess of this deep, deep lake, out near the climbing raft, Cushie was born. The last of her species . . . . . lonely . . . . ah, so alone . . . . . until humans came to the edge of her lake. And so Cushie began to think perhaps these creatures who came to her lake’s edge . . . perhaps they could be her friends. But can humans become friends with a monster?”
Carrie holds the lantern close to her face and shakes her head. “Yet every summer, a camper is chosen, a camper just like you. Cushie takes you to the deep, and when you return to us . . . . . . . . ah . . . . . you still look human, but your heart has been changed, and you will forever hunger for the deep, yearn to return to those dark, cold waters.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “And there is always the danger that you will want to drag another camper down to Cushie’s lair with you, down into those dark, cold waters.”
“Is there any way to know who this has happened to?” Hannah asks. I have never heard her sound so small and timid.
Carrie nods. “They say . . . I don’t know this for sure, because I’ve never seen it . . . but they say that on the night of the full moon, a strange oozing appears on the chosen one’s face.”
“Half human, half Cushetunk Monster!” Treasure says.
“A Cushetunk zombie,” Grace cries.
“Well, I didn’t say that,” Carrie says.
Hannah crosses her arms. “You made this all up. There is no Cushetunk Monster.”
Treasure snorts. “That’s what newbies always say.”
“My parents never talked about the Cushetunk Monster,” Hannah insists.
“We’re all sworn not to talk about it outside of camp,” Grace tells her.
Carrie nods.
Just then, the lights go back on.
Carrie turns off her lantern. “Well, kids, it’s time for real lights-out. Wash up and get into bed.” She looks at the chart on the wall. “Hannah, you’re first tonight.”
“Careful the Cushie Monster doesn’t get you,” Grace warns. “They say it can send something up through the drain that will make you long to go to the water’s edge so it can take you.”
“The Cushie Monster is not real,” Hannah says. To my surprise, I hear a little tremble in her voice.
I am last into the bathroom that night. I see Hannah whispering to Treasure when I hang up my towel.
As I climb into my bed, Carrie says, “Last camper is in her bunk. Lights out!”
I put my head down on my pillow. I feel something sticky and wet on my cheek. I sit up so fast, I hit my head on the ceiling. I put my hand to my cheek. It is gooey and slimy. “Yuck! Yuck!” I cry.
Carrie hurries to my bed. She shines her flashlight on my face, runs a finger over my cheek, then raises it to her nose and takes a sniff. She sighs. “Okay, girls, whoever put the hair gel on Amber’s pillowcase, it’s not funny!” She turns to me. “I’ll be right back.”
She goes into the bathroom. When she comes back, she has a wet washcloth and helps me clean my face. Then she gets me a new pillowcase. Once that’s done, she says loudly, “I don’t want any more of that stuff, you guys. Understand?”
There is a long silence.
“Understand?” Carrie repeats, and this time she sounds very stern.
“Yes, Carrie,” everyone replies.
“All right, then let’s get some sleep. We’ve got another big day tomorrow.” She pauses. “Besides, it’s a well-known fact that it’s easier to resist Cushie if you get all the rest you need.”
She goes behind the wall to where her own bunk is. I’m not sure, but I think I can hear her chuckling to herself.
Cleo pokes my mattress. “Are you okay, Amber?” she whispers.
I lean my head down. “Did you see who messed with my pillow?”
“No, I was hiding under the covers. I don’t like thunderstorms.” Cleo waits a second, then says, “Do you think the Cushie Monster is real?”
“No,” I say. I like Cleo, and I don’t want her to be scared.
“I didn’t think so. But I wanted your opinion. I’m sorry about your pillow. I don’t know who would be mean enough to do that.”
I do, I think. I know exactly who would be that nasty.
Hannah Burton.
Chapter Eight
“Okay, faces in the water!”
That’s Pete speaking. The good thing about being a Polliwog is that twice a day I get a semiprivate swimming lesson from Pete . . . . . or “Pete-the-Hunk,” as some of the older girls call him. It’s semiprivate because there is one other non-swimmer in our age group, a kid named Colin. He’s from New York City and is in Justin’s bunk. I know that Justin likes him, so that makes him okay with me.
The bad thing is that I have to keep putting my face in the water. Well, it was bad to begin with. But I’m getting used to it, so that’s progress. Colin still kind of hates it. I feel a little sorry for him.
Pete says that the reason he keeps having us put our faces in the water is so we’ll get comfortable with it. When we lift our heads, he says, “Well done, my favorite Polliwogs!”
“We’re your only Polliwogs,” Colin points out.
“That’s why you’re my favorites,” Pete says. “Now, this is a big day . . . . . we’re going to try your elementary backstroke in the water.”
The reason Pete says we’re going to try the elementary backstroke in the water is that for the last couple of days we’ve been doing it on the sand. This isn’t the regular backstroke you see on the Olympics . . . . that would lead to a lot of holes on the beach.
First we slide our hands up our sides. Pete calls this the “tickle your armpits” move. Then we stretch our arms out and sweep them back toward the starting position. At the same time we do a frog kick, which is pretty much what you would think.
It’s kind of like making sand angels, which is fun. And sand will always hold you up . . . . . unless it’s quicksand, which this isn’t. But the idea of doing this in the lake with my feet off the bottom is almost as scary as quicksand.
“You first, Amber,” Pete says. He has me float on my back. As I do, he puts his arms underneath me to support me. “Okay, go,” he says.
To my surprise, doing this in water is easier than I imagined. I’m actually moving. And with Pete staying beside me, I’m not scared.
“Great, Amber!” Pete says.
I do two more strokes.
And then I realize that though Pete is there to catch me, he isn’t really holding me up. I am floating and moving on my own.
I, Amber Brown, am swimm
ing!!!
After a minute, Pete stops me and says, “Look, you did half a lap!”
I really did. Yay, me!
Pete and I wade back to Colin.
“You were amazing!” Colin tells me.
I grin at him. “Your turn now. It’s easy. You’ll see.”
Colin wraps his arms around his chest. He looks scared. But Pete leads him out a little deeper. With Pete’s support, Colin floats on his back. Soon he is moving through the water the way I did.
As Colin wades back to me, he has a big grin on his face. We give each other a high five.
“Your turn again, Amber,” Pete calls. “Come on out.”
Soon I am floating again. I know Pete’s hand is there to keep me safe, but his touch is so light I can barely feel it. On my back I move through the water. I can look up and see the whole sky stretching out over me. Cool!
Just as I am feeling really confident, someone calls, “Wow, Amber, that’s great!”
I turn toward the voice and that’s when it happens. I breathe in when I shouldn’t and get a noseful of water.
It’s horrible! I cough and gasp and start to sink. I am terrified, but Pete is fast. He gets me on my feet right away.
I want to clobber whoever it was that called to me, but when I turn toward the dock, I see that it was Justin. I am so embarrassed that he saw me goof up. But he wasn’t the only one. Treasure is standing on the dock beside him.
“Don’t worry, Amber,” she says. “You’ll get it next time.”
I don’t know why, but I don’t like her saying that.
I don’t know why, but I don’t like the way she and Justin are standing together.
I don’t know why, but I have a terrible knot in my stomach.
Chapter Nine
Dear Mom and Max,
The package arrived!
Amber Brown Horses Around Page 3