Willows vs. Wolverines

by Alison Cherry

  “Oh,” Mackenzie says. “Okay. I guess I can hang out with Lauren again. We played cards yesterday.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” It’s so great that Mackenzie has finally made another friend; now I don’t have to feel guilty every time I have to do other stuff without her.

  “Lauren says the karaoke competition is dumb,” Mackenzie says. “She said she wouldn’t want to participate even if someone begged her.”

  “It is dumb. ‘Chillin’ ’ is going to be stuck in my head for the rest of my life, and it’s the stupidest song ever. Plus, we have to wear these awful sequin costumes that Roo borrowed from her ballet school. They’re so short that we have to wear special silver booty shorts underneath.”

  “If you don’t like it, why are you doing it? You can tell them you don’t want to.”

  I lower my voice. “You know why I’m doing it. Those girls are in charge of everything in our cabin. If I want them to let me run the prank war, I have to make them like me.”

  “To let us run the prank war,” Mackenzie corrects.

  I glance over to Josh to make sure he didn’t hear, but he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to us. “Right. Anyway, it’s a give and take, you know? If I do what they want, they’ll do what I want.”

  “Okay, whatever,” Mackenzie says, but she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s okay at all.

  “Archers to the shooting line!” calls our counselor, and I give Mackenzie a quick smile before I turn back to the target, relieved that this conversation is over.

  * * *

  I’ve got Horseback Riding with Mei as my second activity of the day, but all we do is learn to lead the horses with a rope, then ride them around a small dirt track at a slow walk. My horse is named Spike, and he has no interest in following my instructions—he’d rather hang out with Mei’s horse, Drusilla, who obviously doesn’t share his feelings and keeps flicking him in the face with her tail. It’s pretty funny, and Mei and I can’t stop giggling. We don’t blame the horses at all; we’d be bored too if all we ever got to do was walk in a circle.

  So far today has been kind of a bust, but everything improves when I get to Sailing and discover that Val’s the counselor in charge. She’s wearing huge red-framed sunglasses and a red polka-dotted swimsuit with gym shorts over it, and her hair is in two braids. It’s weird how braids are okay on little kids, and then they make you look babyish for a while, but then when you get older, they magically make you look cool again.

  She smiles at me when I bounce up to the dock. “Hey, you! I’m so glad you’re in my class!”

  “Me too,” I say. “Are there any other Willows on the list?”

  She looks at her attendance sheet. “Nope. Just you and me.”

  I try to look disappointed, but I’m secretly glad that I get her to myself. I mean, there will be other people here too, obviously. But nobody who has the same connection to her that I do.

  During the next hour Val teaches us the names of all the parts of the boat, how to tie some knots and do basic rigging, and how to fold and tie a sail. Then we all take turns practicing while she watches and gives us pointers. I remember a little bit from last year at Camp Sweetwater, but I want to impress Val so badly that I keep losing focus and mixing up which side of the boat is “port” and which is “starboard.” By the time class is over, I’m feeling pretty stupid and frustrated. This karaoke thing is making me all spacey and throwing off my entire life.

  Val comes over as I’m getting ready to leave. “Have fun?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “You’re a great teacher. Sorry I didn’t do that well. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

  “You did fine, Iz,” Val says. “Tomorrow we’re going to split up into pairs and take the boats out.” She leans in close and lowers her voice. “If there’s anyone you really want to be with—or not be with—let me know.”

  That makes me feel a little better, and I smile up at her. “Thanks.”

  “Of course. I’ve got your back, lady.” She grabs her towel and slings it around her neck. “Want to walk back to the cabin with me?”

  The dock is pretty far from our cabin—at least eight or ten minutes of walking. I can’t believe Val’s offering me her undivided attention for that long. “Yeah, definitely,” I say, and I suddenly feel 100 percent happy again. It’s like the sun has come out from behind the clouds.

  We head down the path through the woods, and I try to match my steps to hers so our flip-flops slap our heels at the same time. There are a million things I want to know about Val, and this is a perfect opportunity to ask all my questions, but now that I’m alone with her, I’ve completely forgotten how to start a conversation. Fortunately, she remembers how to act like a normal person, so she asks, “What other activities did you have this morning?”

  I tell her about Archery and Horseback Riding, and my voice comes out all fast and breathless at first. But by the time I’m done talking about how my horse was obsessed with Mei’s horse, I’m starting to sound like myself again. “What was your favorite activity when you were a camper?” I ask.

  “I’ve always liked sailing best. I was on a competitive sailing team in high school, actually. We were pretty good.”

  “Whoa. Did you learn how when you were really little?”

  “Yeah. My family has a boat. We used to live on it for a couple of weeks every summer. But we don’t do that anymore, now that my sisters and I are grown-up. I miss it.”

  I can’t imagine an entire family living on a boat; it would be so chaotic. I picture Tomás dropping his stuffed bunny overboard and throwing a tantrum.

  “What’s your boat called?” I ask.

  “Stormy Weather.” I wrinkle my nose, and she laughs. “What? You don’t like it?”

  “My grandma would say that’s tempting fate,” I say. “Couldn’t you guys have called it Clear Skies or something?”

  “ ‘Stormy Weather’ is an old jazz song my dad likes,” she says, and she sings me a few lines. Her voice is beautiful, full and sweet, and the lullaby quality of the song makes me feel safe and happy, like when my mom used to sing me to sleep. I wonder if there’s anything Val can’t do.

  “You’re really good,” I say when she stops. “You should go on one of those singing reality shows.”

  She laughs. “I don’t think so. That’s nice of you, though.”

  “I’m serious. My mom’s always watching The Voice, and you’re way better than most of the people on there.”

  “Speaking of singing . . .” Val bumps my shoulder. “You ready for the karaoke competition?”

  “Ugh, no. Lexi’s choreography is so hard. Hopefully I’ll get it by tomorrow.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you do it perfectly as long as you have fun,” Val says. “I’m sure you guys are going to be great.”

  I don’t really want to talk about the karaoke competition, so I say, “Hey, do you think it’s weird that it’s taking the Wolverines so long to prank us?”

  Val shrugs. “They’re probably not as proactive and clever as you girls.”

  “Do you think they’re planning something huge? Or are they just terrible at this?”

  “I’m not sure, honestly. It always takes Stuart and his boys awhile to get their act together, but it’s not usually this long.”

  “I kind of wish they’d do something already,” I say. “This is making me nervous.”

  “Yeah, I totally get that. The anticipation is always the worst part.”

  We come out of the woods, and I realize we haven’t been heading toward the cabin. “Wait, why are we going this way?” I ask.

  “I thought we’d make a detour before Cabin Group, if that’s okay with you.” We’re right near the mess hall, and Val leads me around to the screen door that leads to the kitchen. It’s propped open, and inside I hear running water and mariachi music. It reminds me of the radio station my aunt Lupe listens to while she cooks for family parties; she always sings along really loudly, even though sh
e’s completely tone deaf.  Thinking about that makes me homesick all of a sudden.

  Val knocks on the door frame and calls, “Hello?” then walks right in before anyone answers. I hesitate outside, but she gestures for me to follow her.

  A guy peeling potatoes looks up and smiles at us. “Hey!” He wipes his hands on a dish towel and gives Val a hug. He’s got shaggy brown hair under a worn blue baseball cap and a nice smile.

  “This is my friend Danny,” Val says. “Danny, this is Izzy. We’re on our way back from sailing, and it’s super hot out, and we wondered if you had anything in the freezer that might cool us down.” She fans herself with her hand like a damsel in distress and bats her eyelashes in this dramatic way, and I giggle.

  Danny sighs. “I should’ve known. You never come by to see me unless you want Popsicles.”

  “Yes I do! I was here on Friday.”

  “And I gave you a Popsicle.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask for one. You offered it to me. And if you wanted to give me another, I wouldn’t say no. And one for Izzy, of course.”

  “Val, you know I’m not supposed to give food to campers between meals.”

  “Oh, whatever. She’s not a camper right now. She’s with me. You’re not going to tell anyone, right, Izzy?”

  “Definitely not,” I say. I smile as I think about the sour candies Delilah used to sneak me at Camp Sweetwater. There must be something about me that makes adults want to give me forbidden sugar.

  “Please, Danny?” Val begs. “Please, please, please? Pretty please? With a whole jar of cherries on top?”

  “You’re not going to stop until you get what you want, are you?”

  She smiles. “Nope.”

  “Fine. What color?”

  “Red,” Val and I say at the same time, and then we grin at each other.

  Danny comes back with two red Popsicles, and we thank him. “Gotta go,” Val says. “It’s time for Cabin Group. You’re my favorite, Danny. I’ll come back soon.”

  “Yeah, probably tomorrow, when you want more treats,” he says, but he doesn’t really seem annoyed. Val blows him a kiss before the screen door slams shut behind us.

  “Do you like him?” I ask as we head down the path toward the cabin. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be so forward, but I have a contraband Popsicle, and I’m feeling giddy and reckless. According to Val, I’m not a camper right now, which I guess makes me her friend.

  Val laughs. “Danny? No. He’s like my brother. Why, do you like him?”

  I’m mortified and thrilled all at once that she would ask that, and even though I know she’s teasing, I start laughing and can’t stop. “I met him one second ago!”

  “Do you like someone else?” She nudges me with her elbow. “Come on, you can tell me. Is it a Wolverine? Are you having a secret romance?”

  An image of Josh springs into my mind for no reason, and I feel my face turning as red as my Popsicle. “No! Eew. I could never like a Wolverine. They’re Public Enemy Number One, right?”

  “Right,” Val says. “You’ve learned well, young grasshopper.”

  We smile at each other with our Popsicle-dyed mouths, and then we walk back to the cabin together while the breeze rustles the trees above us and the sun kisses our shoulders. I close my eyes and turn my face up to it. I can’t remember ever feeling happier in my entire life.

  CHAPTER 10

  I expect the Popsicles to be a one-time thing, but it turns out they’re not. Val and I leave sailing together again the next day, and we walk straight to the kitchen like it’s something we’ve always done. Now that I’ve had a little practice being alone with her, I’m less babbly and more comfortable asking her questions. She tells me that she’s studying communications at college (though I don’t know what that is, exactly). She tells me about her oldest sister, Analise, who got married and had twin boys as soon as she got out of college, and her middle sister, Sophia, who’s in Ecuador building houses. She even tells me that she broke up with her last boyfriend, Liam, six and a half months ago and that she still misses him sometimes.

  It’s thrilling to be her confidante, and I love that she trusts me enough to spill personal details the rest of the Willows don’t know. In return, I tell her how much I’m going to miss my favorite teacher, who’s moving to California, and that I’m worried my times might not get any faster in swim team this year. I try to stay away from the topic of my family in case she asks more questions about Tomás—it feels really wrong to lie to her when we’re alone like this. Before we reach Willow Lodge for Cabin Group each day, we duck into the Social Lodge to toss our Popsicle sticks and rinse our bright red mouths so the other girls won’t know we’re getting treats without them.

  Forget my fake brother. If I had an older sibling in real life, I’d want one exactly like Val.

  I spend pretty much every spare second of Free Time practicing for the karaoke competition, and by the time Roo, Lexi, Ava, and I do a run-through for the rest of the Willows during Cabin Group on Monday afternoon, I finally get all the kicks and spins right. I’m still iffy on some of the words—it’s hard to remember them while I’m concentrating on dancing—but it helps that I’m only backup, so a lot of the time I just have to go “Oooooh, la la la la.” My cousin Rosa once told me that if you mouth “Peas and carrots, watermelon” over and over, it looks like you’re singing real lyrics, so I figure I can do that if I blank during the performance.

  Val doesn’t want the other girls to feel left out, so we spend the rest of Cabin Group having a talent show for everyone who’s not singing karaoke. BaileyAndHope do an amazing series of soccer tricks that involves bouncing the ball off their knees and elbows and heads about thirty times before it hits the ground. Mei demonstrates how fast she can climb the huge tree outside our cabin. Petra does an absolutely terrible attempt at beat-boxing, which is so hilarious that she has to stop midway through because she’s laughing too hard. Summer pulls out a pink notebook and reads us a sample from “Summer’s Rules for Success,” which includes advice like “ ‘No’ is never a final answer; it’s a starting point for negotiations.” I was sure Hannah wouldn’t participate at all, but she gets up and shows us the clay skull she made in Arts and Crafts. It turned out great; the blood is really shiny.

  “You guys are phenomenal,” Val says when we’re all done. “I have the most talented cabin in the entire camp. You ready to head to dinner? I think it’s hamburgers tonight.”

  Roo wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. When are they going to learn that some people don’t eat dead animals? I’m getting so sick of peanut butter and salad.”

  “Hang on,” I say to Val. “Aren’t you going to do a talent?”

  “You get to see my stellar counseloring skills every day,” she says. “What more could you possibly want?”

  Part of me wants to keep what I know about Val’s talents a secret; I love being the only one in the cabin who has heard her sing. But on the other hand, I really want to hear her do it again. So I say, “How about a song?”

  “Hmm.” Val pretends to consider it. “You guys really want that?”

  There’s a chorus of yeses, so she stands up. I wonder if she’ll sing that “Stormy Weather” song again as a special tribute to me, but instead she picks something else, another slow, jazzy song about summertime that I kind of recognize. Her voice fills me up with so much happiness that I feel it like a physical pressure in my chest. It’s almost not fair how amazing she is.

  I suddenly don’t care that “Chillin’ ” is probably the stupidest song in the history of the world. If it makes me the tiniest bit more like Val, I’m going to sing my heart out on that stage tonight.

  * * *

  We have half an hour between dinner and the competition to get ready. Petra puts sparkly silver and blue eye makeup on us to match our costumes, and Val does my hair in one of those cool braids that goes across the front like a headband. By the time she’s done, I’m actually excited to perform; the idea of everyone in the camp watching
me is pretty great. Mei promises to record a video with Roo’s fancy camera so we can watch ourselves later.

  When everyone’s hair and makeup is almost done, Roo sends Lexi to her dresser to get our costumes. Lexi rummages around for a minute, then calls, “Are you sure they’re in this drawer?”

  “Dude, are you blind? They’re right on the top.”

  “The spankies are here, but I don’t see the dresses.”

  I go over to help, but Lexi’s right—all I see are a bunch of T-shirts and a pile of days-of-the-week underwear. (Roo wears days-of-the-week underwear??) “Maybe you put them in a different drawer?” I say.

  Roo sighs like we’re the stupidest people in the universe. “Let me up,” she says to Petra, and she comes over and nudges us out of the way. “I definitely put them in here this morning. They’re probably—” She pushes the spankies to the side, and as the slinky metallic fabric unfolds, we see that there’s a torn slip of notebook paper pinned to the butt of each pair.

  CONSIDER

  YOUR

  BUTTS

  KICKED

  “Oh my god,” Roo says, her voice trembling with fury. “Those little turds stole our costumes. How did they even know about them? Were they spying on our rehearsal?”

  “I have no idea,” I say, but all of a sudden I do. Josh was standing right there when I complained to Mackenzie about the costumes in archery on Monday. I didn’t think he was paying any attention to us, but of course he was. In a prank war, you always have to be paying attention. How could I let myself slip like that?

  “What are we going to do?” Lexi wails.

  Roo starts moving toward the door. “I’m going over there. They’re going to pay for this. I’m gonna take their stupid faces, and I’m gonna—”

  Val puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, we don’t have time for that right now. The competition starts in ten minutes.”

  “But those costumes don’t belong to me! We have to get them back! My ballet teacher is going to kill me if anything happens to them!”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to them,” Val says. “I’m sure they’re hidden in the boys’ cabin somewhere. I promise we’ll go get them after the competition is over. But you don’t want to miss your chance to sing, do you? You guys have worked so hard. Let’s find you something else to wear, and then you can get up on that stage and show the Wolverines they couldn’t ruin your performance with some dumb prank. Okay?”