The Girls of Firefly Cabin

by Cynthia Ellingsen

Chapter Eleven

  Lauren went to bed happily exhausted each night. Even after three days at camp, though, she still got up at five every morning, the same time she woke for kitchen duty at Shady Acres. It was like some invisible alarm clock seemed determined to remind her that Blueberry Pine was not real life.

  Live it up, it seemed to say, but don’t get too comfortable.

  Lauren pulled the blankets up to her chin and stared at the ceiling. Camp was so perfect. Too perfect.

  It was everything she’d pictured and more, but with every day that passed, Lauren realized how different she was from the other girls.

  The Fireflies were amazing, but gosh, were they privileged. Every single one of them had a real home with a family, and they had unlimited resources. Archer’s family could easily pay for two kids to go to camp, and her sister had been to Blueberry Pine the last three years. Isla’s shirts were made of silk, and every piece of clothing she had, even her underwear, was monogrammed. Plus, they all talked about iPhones, trips to Disney World, private ski instructions, dance classes, and piano lessons like those experiences were a given.

  They would be shocked if they saw my life back home.

  Really, living in Shady Acres wasn’t too different from camp. Lauren shared a room with five other girls and slept in a bunk bed with a thin mattress and hard pillow. Her area was decorated with pictures ripped out of discarded travel magazines, and her space in the closet held a few outfits from the thrift shop, carefully maintained so they would last.

  It could be worse. Based on some of the things she had experienced in foster care, it could be a lot worse. Sometimes, though, she wished it could be so much better.

  Lauren looked out the window, at the tall pine trees draped in early morning mist. It was so beautiful. Pushing the negative thoughts out of her head, she decided to get up and walk around the lake.

  Outside, the air was wet with humidity, and the birds called to one another. She followed the hiking path the girls had taken that first day. In the silence, her thoughts turned to Jade.

  That’s someone who doesn’t have it so great.

  Lauren knew the pain of losing someone close to her. Not her parents—they died when she was three, so she barely remembered them. The one loss she remembered was the foster family she had lived with when she was seven.

  The mother, Marianne, was perfect. She had two little boys and called Lauren her “precious girl.” They baked cookies together and fed ducks in the park, and each morning before she left for work, Marianne braided Lauren’s hair. For a brief, hopeful moment, there was talk about adoption—until the factory where Marianne and her husband worked closed.

  With barely enough money to survive, Marianne had tried to make it work, but there were too many hungry nights. When Lauren went back into the system, she was so heartbroken she didn’t speak for months. That experience taught her not to get attached to anyone, because everyone left in the end.

  It was hard to watch Jade learn that lesson too. Lauren wished she knew how to help her.

  She walked for more than an hour, thinking about her new friends and taking in the scenery. Around six thirty, she headed back, passing by the kitchen on the way.

  Smoke billowed out of the chimney, and the aroma of powdered sugar and bacon lingered in the air. Lauren’s stomach growled. Creeping to the back door, she peered through the screen.

  Cinnamon donuts were cooling on racks on the counter. They had to be for the campers, but it wasn’t breakfast yet. Lauren was about to turn away when a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder.

  “Don’t even think about it,” growled a voice.

  Lauren jumped. Turning, she came face-to-face with a plump, freckle-faced woman with hair as red as hers, but streaked with gray. The lines in her face were tight with anger, and her voice had a hint of an Irish brogue.

  “You trying to steal my donuts, you little thief?” the woman demanded.

  Lauren’s face went hot with indignation.

  “I’m not a thief.” Lauren’s voice shook. “Don’t call me that.”

  The chef scoffed. “I’ll call you whatever I like. You spoiled brats think you can take whatever you want? I’ll tell your counselor and you’ll get a one-way ticket home.”

  “No,” she cried. “Don’t send me home!”

  The threat was terrifying, especially when she’d worked so hard to get here. Before Lauren could stop herself, tears rolled down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she turned to face the dirty wood of the building.

  “Hey.” The chef sounded surprised. “Come on, now.” She took Lauren by the shoulder and guided her through the opened screen door. “Sit.” She patted a stool by a counter and poured Lauren a glass of water.

  “I wasn’t going to take anything.” Lauren’s words came in short bursts. “Please don’t send me home.”

  “I was only teasing.” She patted Lauren’s arm. “Now, calm down.”

  Lauren let out a deep breath. Jazz crackled from a radio in the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon hung thick in the air, and finally, the tears stopped. Ashamed, she got to her feet.

  The chef’s expression was much kinder than before. “Better?”

  Lauren hugged her arms to her chest and nodded, watching the woman transfer the donuts into a metal warming tray.

  “I’d thought you were homesick, getting up this early.”

  “Habit,” Lauren said, her voice dull. “I get up at five every day at home to help out in the kitchen.” The chef gave her a funny look. “I should get back.”

  “Wait. You can’t leave here empty-handed.”

  To Lauren’s absolute shock, the chef ambled over to the cupboard and pulled out a large bag. She packed it with a dozen donuts, boiled eggs from the refrigerator, cartons of milk, and apples. Then she placed it into Lauren’s arms.

  Chef smiled. “Now, don’t start telling people you got this from me.”

  “Oh thank you.” Lauren leaped forward and gave her a hug, the brown bag rattling between them. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Chef moved away and turned to the stove. “Go on, now.” She waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “I’m not going to waste all day with you.”

  In spite of the gruff tone, Lauren was certain she saw Chef smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jade had just climbed out of bed when Cassandra returned to the cabin. She’d left right after reveille for a meeting with the counselors. The other Fireflies were camped out at the table in their pajamas, food spread out like a picnic.

  “Hey, Cassandra,” Archer said. “Could you please tell Isla eating in the cabin won’t attract bears?”

  Jade grinned. Lauren had started bringing back donuts after her walk each morning, and ever since, Isla had been cleaning up cinnamon sugar like it was her job. She’d spent the past few mornings armed with wet paper towels, swiping at every crumb.

  “Gosh.” Cassandra made a clucking sound. “I can’t really say that, because you’ve heard about Ainsley O’Neill, right?”

  Everyone stopped and looked at her.

  “Ainsley was one of the counselors last year. One night, her campers snuck in s’mores. A bear broke in, ate every marshmallow, and dragged Ainsley away by her socks. It was really quite sad.”

  Isla’s eyes were as big as donut holes. “That’s awful.”

  “Welcome to the food chain.” Cassandra beckoned to Jade, who had just finished dressing. “Hey, can you come with me for a minute? I need to talk to you about something.”

  On the way out the door, Isla could be heard saying, “We need to get this food out of here, now. That’s awful, what happened to that girl!”

  Cassandra grinned at Jade. “I’ll tell her the truth later,” she said, and stopped just below the cabin steps.

  The morning was already hot and muggy. Next door, the Butterflies were having a hula-hoop competition.

  “So, it’s Friday,” Cassandra said, as if that explained everything. “I need to escort you to the infirmary for
your appointment.”

  Jade gave her a blank look. “Appointment?”

  “Your parents signed you up for counseling sessions.”

  “Counseling sessions? For what?” Jade demanded.

  “They don’t tell me that, doll.” Cassandra glanced at her clipboard like the answer might be there. “They probably figured you had some things on your mind and might want to talk to someone.”

  Seriously?! Why do adults think talking makes a difference?

  Kiara wasn’t coming back. All the chatter in the world wouldn’t change that.

  “Can I just skip, please?” Jade muttered, swatting away a mosquito.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Cassandra gave her a sympathetic look. “I hear Mrs. Anderson’s really nice, though.”

  Jade pulled her arms close. She was so thin, her body didn’t feel like her own. “What am I supposed to tell the girls?”

  “Some campers pretend they have a weekly phone call with their parents.”

  I won’t talk. I’ll sit there in silence and look out the window at the trees.

  If there was a window. There probably wouldn’t be, for “privacy.”

  “You ready?” Cassandra said.

  “When will I be back?” Jade demanded.

  “In time for Flagpole,” Cassandra said. “The girls will never know you were gone.”

  Yeah, right. So much for trying to be normal and make friends. Jade felt the overwhelming urge to crawl back into bed.

  “Ready to go?” Cassandra asked, again.

  Jade shoved her hands into her pockets. “Whatever.”

  When had her life turned into such a nightmare?

  Jade rushed toward the main courtyard, trying to make it on time to Flagpole. She tugged at her corduroy trousers, already wet with sweat from the early morning humidity.

  The meeting with the therapist was exactly what she had pictured. The lady was fine, with a tired perm and friendly face, but she actually expected Jade to start talking about her friendship with Kiara.

  Hello, she wanted to say. That’s never going to happen.

  Talking about it hurt, and she was tired of hurting. Tired of the nightmares, the guilt, and the fact that all the talking in the world wouldn’t bring her best friend back.

  Jade came to a stop on the main lawn. Campers were clustered around the flagpole, chatting and giggling. Like always, the Bluebirds had taken the only spot in the shade.

  The very sight of Makayla irritated her. It was obvious the younger campers idolized her, and in Jade’s opinion, that came with a certain level of responsibility. The fact that Makayla used her popularity to humiliate her sister, hog the spotlight, and create an environment of exclusivity was not right. Power was a privilege, and Makayla did not have the first clue how to handle it.

  “Jade,” Lauren called, waving.

  The Fireflies turned her way. They looked relieved to see her; like maybe they’d thought she’d gotten sent home or something. Jade strolled up and faced the flagpole, as if she’d been there the whole time.

  “Ready, girls?” shouted Taylor into her bullhorn.

  Immediately, the campers launched into the Blueberry Pine camp song.

  “Friendship is precious, friendship is true…”

  Archer made a gagging face, like she always did, and Jade nearly did too. The words to the camp song were not what she wanted to hear each morning. They glorified friendship and how it lasted forever, which was a total lie.

  It doesn’t last forever, she wanted to shout. It could be over tomorrow!

  What would everyone think of her then?

  Once the horrific song was over, Taylor led everyone in the Pledge of Allegiance. Then she gave them a big smile. “Before we discuss the activities of the day, I have exciting news to share.”

  “Blueberry Pine is about to be coed,” Archer cracked.

  Isla let out a frightened squeak.

  “She’s kidding,” Lauren assured her.

  “The camp’s marketing materials—the website and brochure—have been the same for nearly a decade. The board has decided to update everything, so they are proposing a contest: the Faces of Blueberry Pine.”

  Archer raised an eyebrow. “Ooh. Do you think it’s about redesigning the site?”

  Jade shrugged, surprised to discover that she and Archer shared another interest. Web design used to be one of Jade’s passions. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to spend any time on it in months.

  “Over the next few weeks, each cabin will compete in a series of events,” Taylor continued. “The cabin that earns the most points in the competition will become the new face of Blueberry Pine, and its members will be featured on the website and on the front cover of the Blueberry Pine camp brochure.”

  The campers erupted. Everyone—including Lauren and Isla—jumped up and down like idiots. But Jade just fidgeted with her friendship bracelets, wondering if anyone would notice if she snuck back to the cabin for a nap. The competition was the type of thing that, once upon a time, she would have been determined to win, but now, the prospect sounded exhausting.

  Lauren—ever the optimist—turned to them, eyes shining.

  “I have looked at the website and brochure thousands of times,” she squealed. “I would love to be the face of Blueberry Pine with all of you!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.” Archer picked a scab from a mosquito bite, sounding as depressed as Jade felt. “Clearly they want my stupid sister to model. It’s a conspiracy.”

  Taylor hit the siren on the bullhorn. “Ladies. Listen up.”

  The chatter died down.

  “We’ll post the series of upcoming events following lunch, but the first one will start today, as our activity of the morning. Each cabin is challenged to create a visual depiction of your cabin name. For example”—the counselor pointed at Makayla and her friends—“the Bluebirds might transform their cabin into a giant bird’s nest.”

  Yikes. Maybe Archer is onto something. The counselors do seem to have their eyes on the Bluebirds, which is completely unfair.

  “Use anything you can find,” Taylor continued. “Cabins will be judged by a team of counselors before lunch. The first-, second-, and third-place teams will receive points toward the competition, which will be tracked on a board throughout the contest in the mess hall. Good luck, and happy decorating!”

  “We can win this,” Lauren insisted. “It’s the perfect way to remember this summer forever.”

  “I don’t want to remember this summer,” Jade said, without thinking.

  The Fireflies looked at her. Immediately, Lauren’s face flashed with…pity? Impossible. No one knew.

  Jade slid on her sunglasses. Kiara used to call them her celebrity shades, since they practically covered her face.

  Lauren put a hand on her arm. “Was everything okay this morning?”

  “My parents can only call on Fridays.” She felt momentarily grateful to Cassandra for the quick excuse. “Look, if you want to win this, we should start. I have an idea.”

  Jade didn’t want to participate, but she also didn’t want to keep letting down the Fireflies. There wasn’t much she could do about not wanting to hang out, share secrets, or wear the Firefly bracelet; she really wasn’t up for that. But she did have a good idea of what they could do for the contest. It wouldn’t hurt to pass it along.

  Lauren clapped her hands. “Huddle up!” Once the Fireflies were in a close circle, she gave Jade an expectant look. “What is it?”

  “The forest at night,” Jade suggested. “You could black out the windows, hang some stuff from the ceiling made out of foil so they look like flowers—like moonflowers. Then you could blink flashlights or something. To represent fireflies.”

  Lauren put her hand to her mouth. “Oooh.”

  Isla gave an eager nod. “That’s beautiful.”

  Even Archer looked impressed.

  “You know what?” Jade added, starting to feel inspired. “Isla has that noise machine she sleeps with. Doe
sn’t it do crickets or something?”

  Isla nodded. “Crickets, waves, and wind.”

  The look on Lauren’s face almost made Jade laugh. It was like Lauren couldn’t believe anyone would spend money on something that mimicked the sounds right outside the window. Archer must have felt the same, because she did laugh.

  “Princess comes through yet again! How about white Christmas lights for the fireflies? I accidentally walked into a storage room at the Lodge, and there were boxes and boxes filled with holiday stuff. One of the counselors shooed me out and locked it, so it’s probably still locked, but it’s there.”

  “I have a friend in the kitchen.” Lauren brushed a bead of sweat off her forehead. “I can ask her for some foil to make the flowers, and maybe she’ll have a master key too.”

  “I want to black out the windows,” Archer said. “I’ve done it in my bedroom. I drew a bunch of stuff on the walls in this glow-in-the-dark ink…it’s really cool.”

  It sounded cool, actually, and Jade half wished they had something like that to use for the night forest.

  “What did you black out the windows with?” she asked. “Please don’t say Sharpies, because I doubt the counselors would go for that.”

  “Black tarps,” Archer said. “Isn’t drama an elective? The theater would have some lying around.”

  Lauren looked at her digital watch. “Come with me, first, to get the foil to start the flowers and explain where we can find the lights. We have two hours. Let’s do this!”

  Then she stuck her hand out as if they were football players or something. Archer and Isla put their hands on top of hers. Jade hesitated, but it seemed easier to put her hand in the circle than try to fight it.

  Lauren fluttered her hand. “Zzzap, zzzap, zzzap!”

  The other girls laughed. “Zzzap, zzzap, zzzap,” they cried, bouncing their hands in return.

  Their voices became louder and louder. Then everyone lifted their hands in a burst of cheers and applause.

  “We have a secret handshake,” Lauren cried. “Let’s do this!”

  Lauren, Archer, and Isla’s enthusiasm was contagious. For the first time since camp started, Jade felt like she was a part of things. What surprised her even more was that she actually wanted to be.