Willows vs. Wolverines

by Alison Cherry

  Val mostly hangs out with Stuart until it’s time to go back to our tents. As we walk across the grass with our flashlights, she finally says, “I really hope you guys had fun tonight even though we’re not at Sandpiper Village.”

  Petra shrugs. “It was okay, I guess.”

  “I didn’t know coming here would upset you so much,” Val continues. “I should’ve asked you first. But I’m really proud of the way you rose above the whole prank war thing and bonded with the Wolverines.”

  Lexi and I exchange a look like, if you only knew. “We’ll get over it,” she says. A few of the other girls agree, and Roo manages a halfhearted “I guess.” It’s a lot easier to forgive someone when you know she’s about to get what’s coming to her.

  If Val realizes we’re not being sincere, she doesn’t let on. Maybe she knows this is the best she’s going to get. “You girls are fantastic,” she says. “Sleep well, okay?” She unzips the flaps on the larger tent and slips inside.

  The girls start filing into the tents—Roo and Lexi and Ava take the smaller one, and everyone else goes into the big one. I hesitate for a moment, not sure who to follow. But then Lexi sticks her head back out and says, “Izzy, there’s room for one more in here, if you want.” It’s not exactly the same as sleeping out under the stars with them or being in the tree photo. But as I duck through the nylon tent flap and unroll my sleeping bag next to hers, I finally start feeling like part of the group again.

  * * *

  The next morning we eat cereal around the blackened remains of our fire, then head back to camp in time for our first activities. We spend the day gathering supplies and trying to act normal so Val won’t suspect anything. When it’s time for bed, we put on our pajamas like always, but I notice people are wearing things that are slightly less ratty and stretched out than usual, since we’re planning to be up and about again in a few hours. Summer even borrows a pair of pajama shorts from Roo instead of wearing her signature pink ruffled nightgown. I’m worried Val might wonder about the change, but she doesn’t seem to notice any of the little details around her these days, unless they’re details of Stuart’s annoying face.

  I expect it’ll be hard to fall asleep, knowing I have to wake up again at one in the morning, but I drift off surprisingly fast. It doesn’t seem like any time at all has passed before Roo’s standing beside my bunk and shaking my foot. Silently, I slide out of my sleeping bag and help her wake everyone else. The Willows put on their shoes and head out single file through the back door, since the front one always creaks. Before I leave, I grab my flashlight and the bag of supplies I stashed under my bunk, then tiptoe back to check on Val. She’s sleeping peacefully with one arm flung over her head, and she looks so innocent and vulnerable that I almost want to call the prank off. I force myself to remember that she’s a traitor, that she brought this on herself.

  Wolverine Lodge is straight across the big field from our cabin, but we don’t want to cut across the grass in case someone spots us from their window. Instead, we walk along the dirt path that loops around the backs of all the cabins. Hannah trips over a root as we pass Cottonwood Lodge and lets out a squeak, and Summer grabs her arm and shushes her. Honestly, I’m pretty impressed she and Summer were on board with this plan at all—Summer hates breaking the rules, and Hannah hates the dark and doing anything risky. Either they’re afraid to disobey Roo after what happened to me, or they’ve actually loosened up a little bit over the last few weeks.

  I hear the boys’ feet crunching down the path long before we run into them; they’re not being nearly as sneaky as we are. We meet up behind the infirmary, which is at the turn in the path, and I find Josh, who’s carrying his own sack of supplies. He’s wearing a faded Foxtail T-shirt and plaid flannel pants, which cover a lot more of him than the shorts he wears during the day, but it’s still kind of embarrassing to see him dressed for bed. I wonder if he feels the same about seeing me in my red boxer shorts. My dad would totally freak out if he knew I was talking to a boy in my pajamas in the middle of the night.

  “Did you get out without Stuart hearing?” I whisper.

  “Yup. You could back a garbage truck into the side of the cabin and he wouldn’t wake up. How was Val?”

  “She was totally out when we left,” I say. “She’s a pretty sound sleeper, but her feet are ticklish, so don’t touch them or she’ll wake up. And be sure to go in through the back door, ’cause the front door creaks. Did you get all the supplies you need?”

  “We’re all set,” says Josh. “You?”

  “Yeah. Oh, but . . . one more thing. Um, my bunk is the first one to your right when you walk in from the porch. I’m on the top. Yellow sleeping bag. Can you . . . would you mind taking that one for tonight?” It feels kind of weird to ask Will you please sleep in my bed, but I’m pretty sure most of the Wolverines don’t shower very often, and I’d rather know where my sleeping bag has been.

  “Sure,” Josh says. “Mine’s second on the right when you come in the door. Red sleeping bag. You’re welcome to it if you want.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “Good luck.”

  “You too.” Our shoulders brush as we squeeze by each other on the narrow path, and it makes my skin tingle.

  We walk the rest of the way to Wolverine Lodge, and I distribute the supplies outside the front door: a satin sash for Roo; a bottle of hair gel for Ava; a Sharpie for Bailey; a bottle of hot pink nail polish for Lexi, and a paler pink for Petra. I keep the giant container of silver glitter for myself and load Summer, Hannah, and Mei up with silly string and rolls of toilet paper.

  “Ready?” I whisper.

  Everyone nods, and we tiptoe up the steps of the cabin and inch the screen door open. My heart is beating quickly; it’s a heady, exciting feeling to be out here this late, playing a prank that wasn’t okayed by any adults.

  The first thing that hits me when I set foot in Wolverine Lodge is the smell—sweaty socks, unwashed skin, and a strong note of body spray. I’m also pretty sure someone has illegal food, because I hear the scritching sound of mice in the walls, but I try not to think too hard about it. I am so lucky I’m a girl. It’s really dark, but it’s easy to pinpoint Stuart’s location by the chainsawlike snores coming from the front right corner of the cabin. We tiptoe in that direction, and when Roo turns on her flashlight to scope out the scene, we find him sprawled on top of the covers in a pair of ratty Superman pajama pants and no shirt.

  We get to work.

  Soon Stuart’s hair is sticking straight up and coated in silver glitter, as are all the clothes in his dresser drawers. He’s sporting an impressive pink Sharpie mustache, which curls up at the ends like it’s been waxed. Draped across his chest is a pink satin pageant-style sash that says LOVELORN SAP in purple letters, and the nails on his hairy feet and his left hand are painted pink. (His right hand is wedged between the mattress and the wall, and we can’t get to it without waking him up.) His bed frame and dresser are crisscrossed with a web of pink and green silly string, and the exposed beams in the ceiling are decorated with long tendrils of toilet paper. Though Stuart almost wakes up a bunch of times, especially when Bailey’s drawing the mustache, he miraculously sleeps through the whole thing.

  I give the girls a thumbs-up, and we pack our supplies and climb into the boys’ bunks. I make sure to get to Josh’s before anyone else and wriggle into the red sleeping bag. A couple of the Willows make quiet gagging sounds and whisper about how nasty their beds smell, but Josh’s just smells musty, like his sleeping bag has been in a basement closet. I lay my head on his pillow and try to concentrate on how hilarious it’s going to be when Stuart wakes up tomorrow morning.

  It’s way less embarrassing than thinking about how Josh is probably in my bunk, smelling my smell, right this very moment.

  CHAPTER 26

  None of us get much sleep, and we’re already awake and waiting when the sun peeks over the horizon the next morning. Josh’s bed is directly across from Stuart’s, so I have a clear vie
w of him, and I’m glad to see that his sash hasn’t fallen off during the night. Stuart’s unpainted hand is hanging off the bed now, and I think about getting up and applying a quick coat of polish, but I don’t want to risk waking him. I hear a creak from across the room as Roo slips out of her bunk and pads toward the bathroom with her camera in hand. She’s planning to sit under the sink and wait for Stuart to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, then take a bunch of reaction shots. I’m impressed by her dedication to her art. I don’t think I’d be willing to sit on the floor of the boys’ bathroom for any reason.

  We don’t have to wait long before Stuart starts to stir. Through slitted eyes, I watch as he reaches down and sleepily scratches his butt—eew—then yawns and runs his fingers through his sculpted hair, which leaves them sticky and covered in glitter. He blinks a few times as he notices his sparkly palm and pink nails, and I have to pull Josh’s sleeping bag up over my mouth to keep from giggling. “What the . . . ,” he mutters, and then he notices the sash across his chest. He swings his feet onto the floor and twists it around so he can read it. “Lovelorn sap. Ha-ha, very funny,” he says, and then he gets up and stumbles toward the bathroom, tearing down toilet paper streamers as he goes. “Groucho, Twizzler, I know this was you guys, you little snot factories,” he calls, but he’s obviously not looking very closely at the bunks, because he still doesn’t notice we’re not the boys. “I’m onto you, so you better—GAH!”

  The familiar sound of a camera clicking punctuates Stuart’s yelp, and then comes Roo’s voice. “Good morning, sunshine!”

  “What are you doing in here?” Stuart sounds so genuinely freaked out that none of us can keep it together anymore, and we all start giggling like crazy. Stuart runs back into the main room, and he lets out a melodramatic groan, which makes us laugh harder. “Ugh, I can’t deal with all this giggling before coffee,” he says, clutching his head. “How does Val stand it? Does she know where you are?”

  “She’ll probably figure it out when she wakes up surrounded by smelly boys,” Petra says. “Don’t you guys ever clean in here?”

  “Says the girl who trashed our cabin.” Stuart rips down a bunch of toilet paper tentacles and throws them in her face, and she laughs. “All right, she-monsters. Go crawl back in the hole you came from, and tell my boys I’ll kick their scrawny butts if they’re not here in ten minutes.” He opens his drawer and pulls out a T-shirt, and we all start howling again as it sends a shower of glitter all over everything. Those industrial-size jugs hold a lot, and I dumped in every last bit.

  Stuart’s face darkens. “Oh my god, you guys are the actual worst,” he shouts, and we grab our shoes and bolt before he totally snaps.

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little Stu!” Petra shouts back at him.

  As soon as we feel safe enough to slow to a walk, Lexi links her arm through mine, and we cross the dew-damp field together. “That was amazing,” she says. “How did the pictures come out, Roo?”

  “Epic,” Roo says. “These are definitely going in the slide show on Saturday. This was a really good idea.” She smiles at me, and for the first time since before Color Wars, it seems totally genuine.

  We’re a few yards from our cabin when we hear Val’s piercing shriek. “Oh my god! Eew, what is this?! Get these off me!” One of the boys starts laughing, and Val screams even louder. “What are you doing? Get out! Get out!”

  The Wolverines fly out of the cabin, barefoot and bed-headed, all of them cackling and hooting. Josh’s cheeks are pink with laughter, and he has pillow lines imprinted on his cheek. From my pillow. I have to try hard not to look at them as he runs up and high-fives me, afraid I’m going to start blushing.

  “I take it everything went according to plan?” I ask. “She sounds really upset.”

  “We poured maple syrup in her hair,” he says proudly. “And we covered her in our dirty socks and sprayed all her clothes with Stuart’s body spray. Oh, and we left her a little surprise in the mess hall—you’ll see it as soon as you walk in. How’d things go for you?”

  “Stuart looks pretty snazzy with silver hair and a pink mustache,” I say. “Your cabin’s covered in glitter. Sorry about that.”

  “Totally worth it.” Josh smiles, and I notice for the first time that the way his bottom teeth overlap is kind of adorable. “We make a good team.”

  “Yeah, we do,” I say.

  Another incoherent scream comes from our cabin, and Josh shoots a look over his shoulder. “I think she found the turtle in her underwear drawer,” he says.

  “A turtle? Where did you get that?”

  “The lake. Duh.” He shrugs. “You guys should probably go straight to flag raising. I’m kind of afraid she might start breathing fire if you go in there.”

  “But we’re in our pajamas,” I say.

  “Being in your pajamas is way better than being on fire.”

  I smile. “See you there.”

  “See you.” And then, before I know what’s happening, he takes my hand and squeezes it.

  The pressure of his fingers lasts barely three seconds, and then he lets go and runs off with his friends. But it’s more than enough to make my whole body feel like it’s on fire after all.

  * * *

  I eat breakfast between Roo and Mei, and we spend the entire time giggling over Roo’s pictures of Stuart’s shocked, glittery face. Val doesn’t show up until the very end of the meal—apparently it takes forever to wash maple syrup out of your hair. She’s super grumpy and reeks of Axe body spray, but when she sees Stuart parading around with his Sharpie mustache and pink toenails, she lightens up a little. She even laughs when she notices that the Wolverines hung her lacy hot-pink bra from the antlers of the taxidermy moose head, especially when Stuart fishes it down with a broom handle and wears it over his shirt for the rest of breakfast. Before we head off to activities, Val and Stuart announce that the Willows and Wolverines have to clean each other’s cabins during Cabin Group as punishment for sneaking out. It’s not that bad, as punishments go, but it does seem kind of unfair, considering their cabin was way more disgusting to start.

  It should be a perfect day. I win a race up the climbing wall with Josh, and I manage to get up on water skis for almost thirty seconds. Mei invites me to go on a trail ride with her during Free Time, and I get to ride my favorite horse, Roxanne. Even the cleaning is easy after we figure out that we can sweep the glitter into the gaps between the wide floorboards. I spend lunch and dinner surrounded by friends, when less than twenty-four hours ago I was a complete outcast.

  But the weird thing is that after the euphoria of pulling a successful prank wears off, I don’t really feel any better, deep down. Taking revenge on Val and Stuart seems to have made the rest of the girls happy—nobody’s giving Val the cold shoulder anymore. But when I look at my counselor across the table, I still feel that same gut-punch of betrayal I felt in the supply closet the last night of Color Wars. Pouring glitter all over everything can’t fix the pain of thinking you have a special bond with someone and realizing, suddenly and horribly, that you don’t. I’m not sure if anything can fix that kind of hurt.

  I wish I at least had someone to talk to who would understand. The Willows are great, but it’s not like I can tell any of them I’m upset because Val doesn’t think I’m special enough. Josh would just look at me funny and say, “Girls are so weird.” If Mackenzie were actually speaking to me, she might get what I’m feeling, because—

  Oh no. Oh god. Mackenzie would understand exactly what I’m feeling, because I did the same thing to her that Val did to me.

  Admitting that to myself feels like the time I got hit in the face with a basketball during PE and suddenly found myself flat on my back on the gym floor, dizzy and totally confused about how I’d gotten there. Everything in the mess hall sounds far away, like the rest of the camp is on another station I’m not picking up very well. I feel a hand on my back, and Mei’s voice says, “Izzy? You okay?”

  I realize I’m staring at
my burger like it’s grown a face. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m . . . um . . . I’ll be right back.”

  Somehow, my legs carry me off the bench, through the aisles of the mess hall, and out the back door. There’s a narrow stretch of lawn that runs between the back of the building and the woods, and I pace along it, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. I thought Mackenzie was being oversensitive about how I missed her birthday, even though I apologized again and again. I thought she was punishing me for not letting her be more involved in the prank war. But her anger was never about either of those things. It was about the fact that she spent nine years believing she could trust me, that we had a special bond, and then, out of nowhere, I made it seem like other people were way more important. I’m pretty sure she tried to tell me that, but I couldn’t hear it because I was too wrapped up in my own drama.

  The difference between this situation and the Val situation is that Mackenzie really is most important to me. But I’ve made that really hard to see lately.

  I told Josh that apologies don’t always work, that sometimes things are more complicated than that. But of course they don’t work when you apologize for the wrong thing. A regular apology isn’t nearly enough at this point, anyway. I need a seriously grand gesture to show Mackenzie how sorry I am.

  And then I see the kitchen door, and I get an idea.

  I walk over and knock, and after a few seconds, a bearded guy I’ve never seen before peers through the screen. His apron is streaked with red and he’s carrying a pretty big knife, and for a second I lose my nerve. But when he says, “Can I help you?” his voice sounds pretty friendly.

  “Um . . . is Danny here?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” the guy says, but he doesn’t make any move to get him.

  “Um, can I see him? I’m a . . . friend of his? And I need his help with something? Please?” I don’t know why everything I say is coming out like a question. Probably it’s the giant knife.