I signed up for my afternoon extra-interest sessions. I picked the HIGH ROPES COURSE. Also CAMPCRAFTS (I want to learn how to build a fire without matches), plus ADVENTURE ROCK CHALLENGE + ZIP LINE. What did you put down?
I guess, if you really want to, we could do 1 activity together (but NOT talk during it) since I’m now a Peace Lily and you’re a Petunia. I’d drop Campcrafts if necessary, but the only thing I won’t do is Puppetry. Why would they even offer that?
I like your sunglasses. Are they prescription? The lenses seem sort of thick.
B
P.S. I think you’re making a mistake with a chicken. My new counselor is named Benita. (She’s nicer than Rachel.) She’s from Puerto Rico + likes to sing. She says the pigs get to know you after only 1 feeding, that’s how smart they are. Also, if you get pigs you go to the kitchen 3 times a day to get buckets with scraps to use for the slop. I’m hoping to make friends with the cooks.
* * *
From: Avery Bloom
To: Bett Devlin
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
B—
I picked all indoor activities. They are:
Express Yourself (Write Here, Write Now!)
STEM for All (Girls Only)
Vegan Cooking Basics: Appeteasers and Sustainable Menu Planning
Puppetry (from Masks to Muppets)
I think we should just stick to what we have.
My sunglasses are prescription. Papa bought the frames for me on a trip to Quebec City, in Canada. They are vintage. We were both trying to speak French there, and we had the best time, just us. I was almost ten and had no clue that in two and a half years everything in my life would be so different.
Today in Express Yourself I started a story, which I thought I would let you read. Look at it only if you are interested. If you’re not, just delete.
“As in Forever”
by Avery A. Bloom
Leighton Z. Swizzler came from a background that had some privilege, which she understood and accepted because it wasn’t her fault. She liked to wear colorful, organic-material scarves, which she would knot and tie and tangle in various creative ways. She also collected books, and left them around the apartment as she read them, though never facedown. She untangled the words inside the books’ covers and tied all kinds of ideas together in her head.
Leighton’s mother was gay, and it was just the two of them living in an apartment with vertical maroon-and-gold striped wallpaper in the hallways on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a very pleasant neighborhood for families.
One night, while Leighton was organizing her organic-material scarves, her mother went to a business event and met another woman. There was chemistry between them. The woman had a daughter exactly Leighton’s age. Her name was Court Tappler.
Soon Leighton Z. Swizzler’s mom and Court Tappler’s mom announced they were in love.
The two girls met, but it did not go well. They were like glue and milk, or like snowflakes and granite.
Court Tappler wanted to do things her way, and she could be extremely bossy, but she cared deeply for animals.
Leighton Z. Swizzler was destined to one day be a fine author. Her life showed great promise, even if, to most people, she came across as being very emotional, a worrier, and cautious by nature (traits seen by social scientists as signs of intelligence).
The girls knew they did not like each other, and decided never to speak, but their dads said they had to learn to get along. “Because we are all going to be together a long time,” Leighton’s dad said. Then he added, “As in forever.”
TO BE CONTINUED.
I know it’s not great, Bett, but it’s a way for me to express myself in Write Here, Write Now!
It’s probably good that you’re no longer in Petunia Pod. Late last night, my mind started making a whole internal Power-Point of sad thoughts (with sad graphics). I even cried a little in my bed, but Counselor Rachel didn’t come over with the flashlight app on her phone to ask how I was doing. Neither did any of the girls. I guess they were already asleep.
A lot of times crying is better when people can see and hear you do it.
So far no one has any idea that you and I have an outside-of-camp connection.
Avery
* * *
From: Avery Bloom
To: Bett Devlin
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
B—
Whoops. I looked over the part of my story that I just sent you, and I see that I made what’s called a Freudian slip. (Not sure you know—but that’s where you say one thing when you really mean another. But in a deeper way you do mean the thing you said.)
So that’s what happened when I said that Leighton’s and Court’s dads were in love. Obviously I meant their moms.
A
* * *
From: Bett Devlin
To: Avery Bloom
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: You don’t know me
A—
I know what a Freudian slip is because there is a store that sells underwear with that name. It’s in Oregon. Me + Dad drove up to visit Portland + on that trip we went to the sea lion caves on the coast. Have you been to any sea lion caves? They SMELL pretty bad but the sea lions are really great + VERY LARGE.
I’ll read your short story if I have free time. No offense. But right now I have to go be with Wilbur + Minnie. My pigs need me. Our bonding has been amazing + not just because I brought them corned beef. They’ve been crying when I’m not in the pen. No joke. Loud squealing, trying to call me back. It’s super rewarding. Have you heard them?
Bett
* * *
From: Avery Bloom
To: Bett Devlin
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
Okay. No rush on reading it. I’ve already written two more stories since then. And eighteen poems. But six are haiku. Here’s one:
Fathers abandon
To go east on a journey
How will it all end?
AVERY BLOOM, AGE 12
PETUNIA POD
I did hear what sounded like bicycle-brake squeals coming from the barn. Maybe that was your pigs? I’m trying to hand-feed my chicken (I’ve named her J.K. Rowling, and if I ever meet my hero author after I become an author, too, I will tell her).
The by-hand technique is how you build a relationship with a parrot. So far it’s not working with J.K. Rowling (the chicken, not the author). I’m sort of afraid of her pecking my fingers and causing nerve damage (which would be a problem for a writer, because of typing) so I got a gardening glove from the supply shed and I’ve been putting a stick in it and holding it out.
I think I made a friend (Dilshad Patel) in cooking class. She’s a vegetarian like me, only hers didn’t start because she was worried about mad cow disease. Which, you probably know, has had outbreaks in recent years.
A
* * *
From: Sam Bloom
To: Avery Bloom
Subject: Checking in
My sweetest Avery (who is now a Petunia! Alert-alert-new nickname!):
By now I know you’ve arrived, settled in, and that your summer is under way. The camp website posts pictures every night and I’ve tried to spot you in the group shots. My hear
t lifted just now when I found a photo of you raising your hand in what I think was some kind of writing class. In the past you’ve had a shy, slow-to-participate temperament, but in this picture you look like you’re getting ready to jump out of your chair. You go, girl!
The camp has been pretty insistent that parents create some space for the campers, so I’m not going to write every day. But we got you the personal technology waiver because I’m out of the country. So you can send me messages 10 times a day if you like. We’re far apart but also always near. That’s the modern world, right?
The trip is just beginning for Marlow and me. What an incredible adventure! I promise to try and keep you posted without being an annoying helicopter dad.
Love you,
Papa
P.S. Any initial thoughts about Bett? You don’t have to answer that right away. Take your time getting to know each other. Are you sharing bunk beds? How is it working out? Also, don’t worry, anything you say to me about her is private. No sharing with Marlow. Promise.
* * *
From: Bett Devlin
To: Avery Bloom
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
A—
I’m writing this from the Office because I want to explain something to you. They think I’m being punished, but the truth is that being alone in here is actually really cool. You never get to be by yourself at camp.
Okay, so I’m sure everyone in Petunia Pod is talking about what happened to me today at the zip line, which is supposedly some BIG SHOCKING THING.
CIGI’s zip-line course goes across part of the lake. What’s the point if you can’t leap in? I know that’s not how YOU feel about water, but people who LIKE swimming would totally get it.
I go in the ocean at home a few times a week + I have 2 different wet suits. I’ve jumped off high rocks in Utah into deep water holes. My dad was telling me to go up even higher on our last trip. Also, me + Dad once went over a waterfall on the Kern River in a kayak. That was an accident + it’s not something we’re going to ever forget, that’s for sure.
Okay, yes, I DID unhook the zip-line harness. They don’t know that I did this BEFORE I EVEN TOOK OFF down the line. I made it look like my harness was “securely fastened,” but it wasn’t. I don’t want Stanton (the one who’s already sort of losing his hair at 19) to get in trouble because he’s the counselor who’s supposed to check the straps. He did check but then when he wasn’t looking I just unfastened the leg clips again. It wasn’t that hard then to undo the front.
So now I’m waiting to see Camp Director Daniel. Maybe he’ll try to send me home. That would be great as long as I had a way to buy food + if I could get my dogs back from the kennel. I could be home alone for the rest of the summer. But I’m guessing they’re not just going to put me on a plane by myself back to California.
I hope I’ll be able to see my two pigs again because without Minnie + Wilbur I’d be crazy right now after all the yelling.
I really don’t think they should shout at a 12-year-old like that. I’m not sure it’s even legal, because we’re paying to be here.
* * *
From: Bett Devlin
To: Avery Bloom
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
Avery—
Since I’m here alone with a big computer on the desk, I was able to do some online investigating, which is the reason I’m sending this 2nd email.
I logged into my dad’s email. He’s telling his friend Henry WHAT’S GOING ON IN CHINA. So I read a LOT about our dads’ first few days on the motorcycles.
Please sit down.
They’ve already had 2 CRASHES. First our dads hit a pothole + smashed into a curb. Then my dad hit something called a haw cart. Your dad now has a cut on his head + a very bruised elbow. My dad has an almost-broken collarbone. What’s that even mean? Maybe it IS broken?
But they are still out there riding!
You would think that I just told you the worst part—but I didn’t. MY DAD WAS TAKEN BY YOUR DAD TO THE HOSPITAL.
PEANUT ALLERGY!!!!
Something they ate was cooked in peanut oil, even though YOUR dad had cards printed up in Chinese that explain MY dad’s allergy problem. (That was pretty nice of him.)
It’s a good thing my dad always carries his EpiPen, because he used it to stab himself in the thigh, which he has done only 7 times in his life. That kept him from dying a terrible peanut-allergy death somewhere in China.
Then your dad threw my dad on the back of his motorcycle + drove him to a hospital.
My dad never feels good after one of these peanut attacks, but just 3 hours later, they got back on the 2 banged-up motorcycles to ride west. They have an escort car, which they paid to lead them.
Only they were behind schedule now, so they kept going after sunset, which was one thing they said they would never do + that’s why they lost the escort car. Then they missed the turnoff for the town with the hotel where they were supposed to stay + ended up being forced to sleep on a blanket in a barley field.
They got all kinds of strange bug bites from that + now they feel itchy all the time. Your dad made a joke about how he is never cooking barley for you again. Is that actually something he cooks for you???
Write back because I may be leaving CIGI soon + going to a local foster home. I hope my foster parents have pets.
What else is there to do with me?
Bett
* * *
To: Marlow Devlin
From: Daniel Birnbaum
Subject: Your daughter, Bett Devlin
You are out of the country so I’m writing instead of calling. This is not an emergency. But close. Safety is our #1 concern here, and we have strict guidelines to protect our campers. Your daughter Bett has broken several of our most important rules. Today she unhooked her harness while on the zip line. Then she dropped about 20 feet into Lake Spoon. Luckily she was unharmed.
Bett is well-liked here. When there was a housing mix-up, she immediately volunteered to leave Petunia Pod, and was relocated to Peace Lily Pod. She is enthusiastic about our outdoor activities and has even questioned the morning “thought of the day,” which I’ve never had a camper challenge before. In short, she has qualities we aspire to nurture.
But she also has weaknesses. Bett is not great with authority. (As her parent, you have probably been dealing with this.) She insists that she doesn’t do well with schedules. The first few days, allowances were made, but she has still not been able to adjust to camp hours.
Young people frequently wrestle with questions of inadequacy and bouts of sadness. Did your daughter try to harm herself today in Lake Spoon? Does she have a hidden concern she has been unwilling to share?
Bett has been sent to see our camp mental health expert. Until we have that report, we are closely monitoring her behavior. She has been permanently removed from zip line, but also from Campcrafts, as hatchets are used in that class.
Most sincerely,
Daniel Birnbaum
Camp Director CIGI
* * *
From: Avery Bloom
To: Bett Devlin
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
Bett—
I heard what happened at the zip line from that boy Simon from Chicago. He was explaining it all to Amelia and Zoe and Ry, and I was listening in. He said the camp is worried now about “copycat crimes
.” So the zip line is going to be closed down indefinitely.
I tried to explain to Amelia and Zoe and Ry, after Simon went back to the frozen yogurt dispenser, that you are a surfer and very used to water, and that it wasn’t a crime because no one was hurt.
I think a lot of people are sort of impressed by you. But maybe worried at the same time? And definitely mad about the zip line closing down.
I heard Jasmine say to Dilshad and Dyllan, “Stay away from Bett. She’s bad news.” I thought that was sort of extreme. Then Audrey B. said that they’re making you sleep in the infirmary tonight. Is that true? I’m curious—how are the medical facilities here? Would you say they are:
sub-adequate
adequate
good
excellent
Just wondering.
Avery
* * *
From: Bett Devlin
To: Avery Bloom
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: you don’t know me
Yeah, I got taken to the infirmary (dork name for a room with shower curtains dividing a bunch of beds bought at IKEA. I have the same bed from IKEA at home so I know). There’s really nothing medical about this place at all, sorry. If anything very serious happened to anyone: Good luck, camper.
The kid next to me has a SUPER-BAD POISON SUMAC RASH. We have poison oak in California. He keeps saying this was sumac. What’s the difference?
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