Finding Cabin Six
Page 1
Praise for Allie’s Bayou Rescue, Book One in the Princess in Camo Series
“Allie’s Bayou Rescue is an awesome book to read together as a mom and daughter! We love how real it was about the obstacles we face as girls—but not without a God who cares for us in our struggles, pursues us, and knows EXACTLY where we are going. And has it all under control—especially when we don’t!”
ELISABETH AND GRACE HASSELBECK, TV PERSONALITY AND DAUGHTER . . . AND DAUGHTERS OF THE ONE TRUE KING!!!
Other Books in the Princess in Camo Series
Allie’s Bayou Rescue (Book One)
Running from Reality (Book Two)
Dog Show Disaster (Book Three)
ZONDERKIDZ
Finding Cabin Six
Copyright © 2018 by Missy Robertson and Mia Robertson
Illustrations © 2018 by Mina Price
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zonderkidz, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Epub Edition August 2018 9780310762584
ISBN 978-0-310762546
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All Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.Zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Any internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the title of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Zonderkidz is a trademark of Zondervan.
Art direction: Kris Nelson
Interior design: Denise Froehlich
Printed in the United States of America
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1819202122/LSC/10987654321
“If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one he has lost until he finds it?”
LUKE 15:4
There are only a few places in your childhood that you know truly helped shape who you grow up to be. Mia and I could have never written a series without including this special place. It contributed to my growth in Christ, and now it has contributed to my children’s. A big thanks to the founders, directors, staff, and volunteers who have made Camp Ch-Yo-Ca what it is. I’m so thankful to be able to share this amazing place with everyone through this super cute book!
—Missy
To all the awesome people who have helped make Camp Ch-Yo-Ca the happiest place on earth! #100AcresOfHoly.
—Mia
To Missy and Mia—thank you for allowing me the privilege to work with your family to see the Princess in Camo series come to life! And to all the summer camp workers out there—you’re some of the toughest and most faith-filled people I know. Never give up—you’re changing lives for eternity!
—Jill
Contents
Praise for Allie’s Bayou Rescue, Book One in the Princess in Camo Series
Other Books in the Princess in Camo Series
Prologue
Chapter 1: Necessities
Chapter 2: Allie Carroway–Camp Crusader
Chapter 3: A Hopeful Word
Chapter 4: Roster Woes
Chapter 5: Bag Boy to the Rescue
Chapter 6: On the Floor in Cabin Four
Chapter 7: The Bell Still Rings . . . For Now
Chapter 8: Boy Rules
Chapter 9: The Last Camper
Chapter 10: Mystery Bed
Chapter 11: Campfire, Night One
Chapter 12: Night of Wonders
Chapter 13: A Bunch of Weirdos
Chapter 14: Clues from the Past
Chapter 15: Bullseyes
Chapter 16: Nappy-Time?
Chapter 17: Campfire Talk #2
Chapter 18: Operation Dinger
Chapter 19: Survivor Day
Chapter 20: Water Day
Chapter 21: Fighting for Life
Chapter 22: Prayer Barn
Chapter 23: Daytime Discovery
Chapter 24: Fishin’ For Answers
Chapter 25: S.O.S.
Chapter 26: Helping Hands
Chapter 27: Getting Messy
Chapter 28: Special Opportunity to Serve
Chapter 29: Good News and Goodbyes
Chapter 30: Timbuktu
Prologue
Where’s Betsy?” Katherine stuffed the last of her dirty camp laundry into her duffle on the top bunk and flicked her flashlight beam over and around seven empty beds.
“She’s bathing, of course,” Emma said. “You would think that girl was getting ready for the prom, instead of . . .”
“Shhh.” Katherine put her finger up to her lips. “Don’t ever say it out loud.”
Emma covered her mouth and whispered, “I’m sorry, Kat.”
“Don’t fret about it.” Katherine climbed down the wooden ladder. “Just help me with her bed roll, please.”
Katherine and Emma moved several stacks of clothes off Betsy’s bottom bunk, refolding and stuffing it with her bedding into an oversized suitcase. Katherine’s fingers fumbled with the tiny metal zipper pull.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” Katherine grabbed a hand towel from her bunk and wiped her clammy fingers.
“Me either,” Emma said. “I’m just happy we’re all sleeping in the tree house tonight.”
“Yes. That little victory was a Godsend.” Katherine lifted Betsy’s suitcase off the bed and groaned at the weight of it.
“Emma—we must keep this to ourselves. The fewer who know the better.”
Emma held up three fingers. “A cord of three strands is not easily broken.”
Just then, a hint of lavender wafted into the cabin, and Betsy—the third strand—opened the screen door and poked her head in.
“Are we all ready?” Betsy squealed. “I’m sure I’ll never again in my entire life be involved in such a delightful mission.”
Katherine grabbed her duffle off the top bunk. “And you won’t be involved in this one if you don’t get your two-ton suitcase out the door right now.”
CHAPTER 1
Necessities
Duct tape, rope, scissors, hanging vines, monkeys . . .” I scratched my head and scanned the shelves and other flat surfaces in the bedroom I share with my cousin, Kendall.
“Can you think of anything else we need?”
Kendall pulled some super glue from her desk drawer and then crammed a purple ukulele into the medium-sized suitcase we had set aside for “camp essentials.”
“There.” She sat on her bed, scrunched her lips together, and rested her fist on her chin. “What about flower garlands?”
I pointed to my teeny, white, poof-ball dog, Hazel Mae. She and Kendall’s black miniature poodle, Ellie, were playing tug-of-war with the garlands.
“Good luck getting those away from them in one piece.”
Kendall jumped off her bed and ran toward the dogs.
“Ellie! Drop!”
At the sound of Kendall’s command, Ellie and Hazel Mae disappeared out the door with the garlands.
Kendall threw her hands up in the air. “We need those if we plan on being cabin champs again this year.”
“I’m sure there are more in the boxes downstairs. I saw some inflatable birds and geckos too.”
Kendall sat back on the bed and crossed her arms. “There are a million boxes stacked up down there.”
My family—who had been living with Kendall’s family for a long nine months—was packing to finally move into our newly-built, allergen-free home on a brand-new street in our neighborhood—Timbuktu Court.
Our move-in date was planned for next Monday—two days after we were scheduled to return from our week at summer camp.
“Come on.” I grabbed Kendall’s hand to tug her off her bed. “I’ll help you dig through the boxes.”
But we didn’t move, because Kendall wrapped me up in a tight hug.
“I don’t want you to move, Allie.”
I laughed and tried to pry her arms from around me. “Yes, you do. And I’ll only be five minutes away.”
At the top of the stairs, we ran into my mom, who was carrying an overloaded laundry basket. She pushed us backward into our room and dumped the load of socks and underwear on my bed.
“I hope you girls intend to pack clothes and toiletries too.” She glanced down at the suitcase with the twenty monkey eyes staring back at her.
“What in the world do you need those for?”
“Mom—everyone knows you need monkeys at camp.”
“We’re creatin’ a rainforest environment,” Kendall said.
“We’re goin’ for cabin champs three years in a row, and décor is one of the top things they judge.”
Mom began sorting socks from the mound. “And what if you girls aren’t in the same cabin this year?”
I put my hands on my hips.
“That’s not gonna happen.”
Mom shook her head. “Well, okay. I’m just preparing you for the possibility—I don’t want to hear you griping if you end up separated.”
“We have to be together. This is our last week as roomies! Plus, we’ve written our cheer and everything.” Kendall grabbed a couple of socks off the bed and swung them around like pom-poms.
“We’re the best, and we will thrive, ’cause Jesus is alive in Cabin Five!”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “And how do you know you’ll be in Cabin Five?”
“We’ve worked our way up,” I said. “We’re the oldest now, so we rule. That’s all.”
“But there are lots of girls your age, and last time I counted, there were only nine camper beds in Cabin Five. So, clearly someone isn’t going to rule.”
Kendall plopped the cheer socks back on the bed. “Yeah, too bad for them.”
Right then my phone rang. The caller ID popped up a name:
Madison Doonsberry.
I sighed. “It’s Madison . . . again. She probably needs more packing advice. She’s never been to a summer camp before.”
“Tell her we could use some more monkeys,” Kendall said.
Fiery redhead Madison Doonsberry and I got off to a rocky start last November when her family moved into my old house. She seemed to hate me for some reason, so I secretly referred to her as “Mad-girl,” and tried to avoid her—kind of like how I avoid eating peanuts—to survive. But then, through a painful set of circumstances, God showed me that Madison didn’t need someone to make fun of her or avoid her—she needed someone to care. And after a lot of prayer, I decided to try that—but slowly, and in small doses. Then, Madison found out she and I were both going to be at the same camp the last week in June, and she’d been calling me at least three times a day since Wednesday.
So much for small doses.
I poked the “answer” button on my phone and put her on speaker with me and Kendall.
“Hey, Madison. Are you still packing?”
A little puppy yelp came from the speaker.
“Petunia, stop chewing on the curtains!”
Petunia is Madison’s golden retriever puppy.
“Allie, how many pairs of shoes should I bring? Petunia’s chewed up most of mine.”
I laughed. “That’s fine. Chewed-up shoes are the best ones to bring. They’re gonna get wet and dirty anyway.”
“Petunia!”
Things went quiet on the other end of the line for a minute. Then Madison returned, out of breath.
“Wet and dirty? Why?”
Kendall laughed. “Camp. That’s why.”
“But it’s a Christian camp, so there’s less dirt, right? Doesn’t everyone just sit around and make sweet crafts and sing hymns?”
“Ha! That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, Madison. Hang on a minute, I have to jot that one down in my journal.”
“Don’t tease me, Allie Carroway—and be truthful. How much dirt are we really talking about here?”
“Madison—there’s dirt everywhere. In fact, bring dirt-colored clothes. And lots of socks.”
“How many exactly?”
“At least three pairs for each day. And two pairs of shoes for the week. One to wear while the other dries out.”
“Oh, yuck!”
Silence on the other end again.
“Madison? Are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m hugging Petunia and trying not to cry. Allie—I’m not sure I’ll survive this week.”
“Sure, you will. You’re a bayou girl now, remember?”
I heard a loud sigh on the other end.
“Yes, I remember. In fact—it’s my daily nightmare. Allie, will you help me when I’m at camp? I’m nervous. And I don’t understand all that Christian stuff either. The packing list says I’m supposed to bring a Bible, and I don’t even have one. Well, there is one on a stand in our living room. But it’s the size of a small suitcase.”
“I’ll bring you a Bible.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Madison then began talking to her puppy. “Petunia, I’m going to miss you so much!”
“Okay, well . . . bye, Madison.”
I hung up and lay down on my bed. I clasped my hands, raising them toward the ceiling.
“Kendall, please pray—with all your might—that Madison Doonsberry is not assigned to our cabin.”
Kendall shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Lately, every time I ask God for somethin’, he says no. I think you should ask instead.”
“And why shouldn’t Madison be in your cabin?”
Mom had returned with more laundry and glared in my direction.
I propped myself up on my elbows. “She’s just not the camper type, Mom. And that means she’ll be clingy and whiny. This is my last year at middle-school camp, and I don’t want to spend it babysitting Madison Doonsberry.”
“Well, it sounds like you have a little selfish streak going on.” Mom set the laundry basket beside me on the bed and pulled an envelope from the top of the load. “According to this, it may be your last year at camp, period.” She handed it over to me.
I opened it, and pulled out a letter to my parents from Lindsey Roth, our close family friend, and director of Camp 99 Pines.
Dear Camp 99 Pines Alumni,
We are eagerly awaiting your arrival next week to celebrate the Camp 99 Pines’ 50th year anniversary! Enclosed you will find your tickets to the gala—to be held under the stars on everyone’s favorite recreation field two. It’s going to be a fabulous night, with three hundred in attendance!
Attached you will find a parking map for Friday evening. Also, for those arriving a day early, we are offering lunch and a tour of the camp at noon—when our middle-school students will be in session.
The next part of the letter made my heart hurt.
As I wrap up this letter, I am compelled to ask you to pray about the future of Camp 99 Pines. Founder and owner—Audrey Gables—is
suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease, and has been admitted to a local care facility. Her son, Patterson Gables, has put the property up for sale, and a housing developer has already offered a sum that is over the asking price—one that we on the camp board cannot match at this time.
Our camp is booked for the summer, so we will continue to operate, but if nothing changes, our last week as a Christian camp will be the week of August 9th. Until then, we are . . .
Trusting in the God of all Hope,
Lindsay Roth
Director, Camp 99 Pines
“Till all the lost have been found.”
“Allie—your face! What’s wrong?” Kendall jumped up off her bed and grabbed the letter out of my hand. “What does it say?”
“It says that the camp is up for sale,” Mom said.
“For sale? Why?”
I pointed to the shocking paragraph.
“Audrey Gables’ son wants to turn it into a neighborhood, I guess.”
“A neighborhood? We’ve got plenty of neighborhoods!” Kendall stomped one foot on the floor. “Camp 99 Pines is historic—they can’t sell it!”
“Can the Carroways buy it?” I turned to my mom. “We’ve got money from doing the show, right?”
My whole family stars in a reality TV show called Carried Away with the Carroways. It all started when I was about seven, and it focuses on our life in the Louisiana bayou—particularly my dad and uncles and their duck hunting escapades.
“Do we have enough to buy the camp?” Kendall looked over at Mom, who was now sitting on my bed, matching up pairs of socks.
“Maybe,” she said. “But owning a camp is a huge undertaking. And something tells me that this situation is a lot more complicated than someone else simply buying the camp.”
“What’s complicated?” I said. “We buy it, and it stays a Christian camp.”
Mom took the letter from Kendall and shook her head. “It says right here that Audrey’s son, Patterson, is in charge now, and it appears he has other interests. Maybe he’s not even a believer.”
“With parents who own a Christian camp? That impossible.”