Finding Cabin Six

by Missy Robertson

  “I’m fine. Let me just check the roster first, and then I’ll help you, okay?”

  I’ll escort you to Cabin Four and then I’ll take my rightful place in Cabin Five. Jesus is alive in Cabin Five.

  “Well, okay . . .” Madison glanced over toward the pushing mass of middle-schoolers. “. . . but you may not escape without injury. I’ll meet you over by . . . uh . . . I don’t know where anything is. I guess I’ll just wait . . . here.”

  She looked a little pathetic, standing there all alone, while kids wheeled suitcases and hauled duffle bags right by her, as if she were a mailbox or a small tree or something you don’t normally acknowledge.

  Try a little harder to care, Allie.

  I shrugged. “C’mon, I’ll help you find your cabin.”

  “You might as well bring your bags. It’s your cabin too.”

  This girl had to be imagining things.

  “Are you sure, Madison? Because I’m supposed to be in Cabin Five this year.”

  Madison shook her head. “Your name was two lines above mine, listed in Cabin Four. Carroway, Carroway, Doonsberry. Ruby’s in with us. Kendall and Lola are in Cabin Five.”

  My heart sank.

  How will we split up the monkeys? And WHO thought it was a good idea to separate the Carroway cousins anyway?

  “Well, hello, Miss Allie.” A familiar, loving voice sounded behind my back. It belonged to Lindsey Roth.

  Sweet, family friend . . .brilliant camp director . . .and cabin roster maker!

  I turned, and tried to plaster on a smile.

  “Hello, Miss Lindsey. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Welcome back to camp, Allie. It’s going to be a great week!” Lindsey held her arms out to give Madison a polite hug. “And you must be Madison Doonsberry. I met your dad a few minutes ago and he pointed you out. You were climbing through the crowd, but I could see your gorgeous head of hair in the mix.”

  Madison pinched a curl and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Now, I know it’s your first time ever coming to summer camp. Don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you. I made sure you are in a cabin with the best camp tour guide around. Allie will show you the ropes.”

  My ears started buzzing.

  Miss Lindsey, how could you do this to me?

  “Lindsey!” Tammi Lakewood—who’s been our camp nurse every summer since I’ve attended, shouted from the nurse’s hut steps. “We need you over here! I’ve got a kid with meds but no parent release.”

  Lindsey turned and then excused herself.

  “Gotta go! It’s always a little chaotic at the beginning of camp. Madison, if you have any questions, ask Allie. She knows everything there is to know about surviving in this place.”

  But I don’t know how to survive in Cabin Four without Kendall!

  Lindsey took off at a slow jog, leaving me alone with Madison again.

  “I’ll meet you over by our truck,” she said. “Daddy has my bags out and ready to go.”

  I glanced over at the raised, black pickup truck that had the logo for Madison’s dad’s fishing-and-law-advice reality show, Lunker Law, painted on the side. It dwarfed the three pink suitcases sitting in front of the black grille.

  Three suitcases, Madison?

  I walked backward, rubbing my face and trying to erase the last few minutes from my mind.

  I retrieved my one blue suitcase and sleeping bag from the dusty ground next to Aunt Kassie’s SUV, and headed toward Madison and the girls’ village.

  CHAPTER 5

  Bag Boy to the Rescue

  How far is it?” Madison pulled and tugged, and then stopped to adjust and rest every five steps. Dirt and pine straw jammed under the wheels of her suitcases to the point where she had to drag them—and it proved to be too much for her. It’s a good thing I was dragging her big one. Mine was in my other hand, with my sleeping bag stacked on top.

  “Where’s your sleeping bag, Madison?” I asked, as I adjusted mine so it would be more secure for the next five steps.

  Madison wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “Oh, I didn’t bring one. I much prefer sleeping with sheets and a big fluffy comforter.”

  No wonder she had three suitcases!

  “Would you ladies like some help?” A tan, muscular boy came trotting over toward us. His perfect, light-brown surfer hair ruffled in the breeze.

  Hey, wait a minute . . .

  His azure blue eyes met mine, and I practically dropped the luggage.

  He smiled. “Hi.”

  I see you still have your dimples.

  “Hi.” I barely managed to squeak that out.

  “Do you remember me?”

  I shifted my eyes to the side to see what Madison was up to. She was unzipping one of her bags and fishing her hand in after something, not looking at us at all.

  Good.

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Nathan, right?”

  Nathan—the boy from California—the one who had given me a bag of unexplainable, but wonderful items in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport back in November—put out his hand to shake mine.

  “Nathan Fremont. I believe you have my headlamp.”

  I gulped.

  Yes, I do. I keep it on my nightstand at home. And, oh, yeah, I brought it with me to camp because it’s one of my most treasured possessions.

  “Hi.” I held out my hand to shake his. It was easy to do—since now I was really shaking.

  Nathan shrugged. “Your brother dared me to give up summer surf camp and come to the bayou instead. So here I am. He told me you’d keep me safe from the alligators.”

  My oldest brother Ryan is Nathan’s eighth-grade science teacher in Santa Barbara, California. I would deal with him later.

  A fair, freckly hand waved in my peripheral vision.

  “Hi! I’m Madison Doonsberry, Allie’s friend.” Madison walked up to Nathan and smoothed her hair out of her face.

  Nathan grinned. “Doonsberry, huh? Dude, I think your brother’s in my cabin.”

  Madison made a funny face.

  “Did you just call me ‘Dude’? That’s funny. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

  Nathan laughed. So gentle. And sweet.

  “I’m from Santa Barbara. It’s on the California coast.”

  Madison raised her eyebrows. “You left the sunny beaches of California to come to Jesus Swamp Camp? What—did you lose a bet?”

  Nathan laughed again, unruffled by Madison’s insult.

  “Allie’s brother is my science teacher. And he did kind of dare me. But really, ever since I saw this place on Carried Away with the Carroways I’ve wanted to come and check it out.”

  Madison narrowed her eyes.

  “You must have sand in your brain.”

  Nathan laughed. Again.

  “That’s a definite possibility.”

  Who are you? And why aren’t you smelly and creepy like the rest of the middle-school boys?

  Nathan reached over, grabbed the handle of my suitcase with the sleeping bag stacked on top, and then picked up one of Madison’s suitcases by the handle, lifting it off the ground.

  “Point me in the right direction.”

  I started walking toward the girls’ village.

  “You can only go as far as the sign. No boys are allowed past that.”

  Nathan looked over at me and smiled. My cheeks felt like they were going to catch fire.

  “Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you take these all the way, but I’m happy to lighten the load a little.”

  We reached the famous tree with the sign that says: “NO BOYS ALLOWED PAST THIS POINT.” It also has lots more wooden signs nailed to it that say G1, G2, G3, G4, and G5, with arrows pointing every which way toward the matching cabin.

  “What cabin are you in, Nathan?” I asked.

  “Cabin Six.”

  Of course. Top of the food chain in the boys’ village.

  “Hunter’s in my cabin too
. I haven’t met him yet, but I saw his name on the roster and recognized him from the show.”

  “Oh, good. He’ll have you laughing all week. But whatever you do, don’t make fun of his dinosaur pillowcase.”

  Nathan smiled. “I would never do that.”

  We stood there for an awkward moment, and I suddenly realized that Madison was still several yards back, dragging her suitcase. Nathan ran to her, scooped it up, and brought it to the tree.

  “Okay, ladies. I better go find my home for the week.” Then he turned to me. “See you at lunch?”

  My heart fluttered way too hard, and I blurted out way too loud, “Sure!”

  And then he took off.

  “Wow,” Madison said. “Was that kid for real?”

  I watched as Nathan Fremont hiked back toward the box and the bulletin board, turning the corner toward the boys’ village.

  “It doesn’t seem like it,” I said.

  But I hope so.

  CHAPTER 6

  On the Floor in Cabin Four

  The good thing about Cabin Four is that it is near the bathroom. That’s the only good thing about it.

  While all the other cabins have steps that lead up to a wide porch, Cabin Four sits at ground level, providing a welcome entry for snakes, lizards, rats, and other pesky creatures that like to sneak in whenever someone opens the door.

  “Oh, good, we don’t have to climb steps!” Madison pulled her suitcase up and over the doorjamb. She dropped the handle and it thudded onto the wood floor. I’m sure ten lizards came crawling in after her.

  “It looks like everyone’s already moved in.” I scanned the rectangular-shaped room. It had five bunks. Two against each of the long walls of the cabin, and one on the shorter back wall. Almost all the beds held sleeping bags, still rolled up, with suitcases placed next to them. I spotted Ruby’s denim duffle bag on the first top bunk on the right side. Her sleeping bag was rolled out and her pillow was tucked inside. She’s always quick to adjust to a new environment.

  A note was taped to the ladder at the side of her bed.

  Allie,

  Went to Cabin Five to help hang monkeys. See you soon.

  Ruby

  What a peaceful little letter. I didn’t sense one bit of frustration from Ruby about being stuck in Cabin Four.

  “Allie, I think this bed is broken!”

  Madison sat on the empty bottom bunk under Ruby’s bed, bouncing up and down in the middle of it. Then her bottom-half sank down, and it looked like she was sitting in an innertube—her legs flailing wildly.

  I reached out to grab her hand and lift her off the mattress. Then I folded it back to reveal a huge hole in the wood that had either rotted out or been eaten by some wild bayou creature.

  “That’s horrifying,” Madison said. “I can’t sleep there.”

  I scanned the room again, and found that the first top bunk on the left was empty.

  “Do you mind sleeping on a top bunk?”

  “Can snakes get up there too?”

  “Yes. But it takes them a little longer.”

  “Oh, my. Whatever.” Madison began to climb the ladder. She reached up and pounded her fist on the mattress, sending a poof of dust rising to the ceiling.

  She coughed. “I’m going to die here, Allie! Or catch some dreaded disease. Where’s our counselor? I want to file a complaint.”

  I checked out the bottom bunk under Madison’s bed. A purple sleeping bag was laid out—with a Camp 99 Pines fleece blanket folded up and placed neatly over the pillow. There was a note on that bed too. I picked it up and read it out loud.

  My name is Bliss.

  I am your counselor, and this is my bed.

  Please do not sit on it, touch it, or move anything on it. Especially, don’t touch my pillow! Thank you kindly.

  P.S. One of the bunks has a hole the size of Texas in it. If you’re the girl who ends up there, drag the mattress down and sleep on the floor for tonight. We have quality people working on the problem.

  “What kind of a name is Bliss?” Madison scratched her head.

  “All the counselors have camp names. Redwood, Echo,

  Hawk, Ember—names like that. Most of them return every summer. But I don’t know a Bliss. She must be new.”

  “She sounds rather particular about her bedding.” Madison smiled. “I like her already.”

  Madison climbed down the ladder, walked over to her biggest suitcase, unzipped it, and pulled out a purple quilted comforter with white tassels attached along the edges.

  “Will you help me make my bed, Allie?” She continued to pull out some lavender and white sheets, and a white fleece blanket. Then she held up a little stuffed pillow with a picture of a golden retriever on it. Madison squeezed it next to her cheek. “I miss my Petunia already.”

  My eyes started to roll, but I caught myself and stopped, since Madison was looking right at me. Her golden retriever puppy Petunia is a real cutie. The director of our local animal shelter helped me get the dog for Madison to replace Madison’s other golden retriever that had passed away right before she moved to our town. It was kind of a peace offering—a try at caring. And Madison and I had been getting along better ever since.

  Maybe if her bed is made she’ll go up there and take a nap or something and leave me alone.

  “Sure, I’ll help.”

  I took the sheets out of Madison’s hands, then noticed there was some weird feathery, fluffy stuff still at the bottom of her suitcase.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Decorations! You told me that the judges like a well-decorated cabin, so I brought feather boas and some pink and purple scarves and garlands. We can be the ‘God’s Princess Cabin.’” She pointed to one of the other suitcases. “I brought tiaras and matching pillowcases for all of us.”

  No, no, no! This isn’t happening!

  “We can imagine that this is a castle.” Madison kicked the old bunk ladder. “Okay, we’ll really have to use our imaginations.” She pointed out the door. “Out there—the whole dirty, swampy, nasty, germy camp—that’s our moat. I only wish we had a drawbridge to pull up so that the slimy creatures in the moat can’t reach us.”

  Now, the idea of a moat was fun. But I would have liked to be on the other side of it. In Cabin Five.

  Madison dug some more in the suitcase, pulled out a piece of purple cloth, and handed it to me. “Here you go, Allie. I took a chance that we would be cabinmates!”

  I unfolded the cloth. It was a pillowcase that said, “God’s Princess, Allie.”

  I swallowed hard. “Thanks, Madison. That was really thoughtful.” I unzipped my suitcase, took out the small pillow I had crammed in there, and pulled the new pillowcase over the brown pillowcase that I use specifically for camping. Because it’s the color of dirt.

  “There.” I turned the pillow around so Madison could see. “It’s nice.” I tried to produce a genuine smile.

  Madison jumped a little. “I brought rugs too!”

  “Rugs?”

  Madison pulled out three or four rolled-up shag rugs. One of them said “Welcome to the Palace.”

  “This we can put in the center of the cabin . . .” She brought out a welcome mat that was a little less fancy, but pink all the same. “and . . . this one is for wiping our shoes on. I got the darkest pink possible since you promised dirt.”

  I chuckled.

  Then she took out some frosty pink bubble lights. “We can hang these all around on these little temporary hooks I got. Daddy bought me battery packs for the lights since I figured we wouldn’t have electricity. Won’t these look pretty at night?”

  Yes, I will enjoy looking up at those from my bed—on the floor.

  Next, she pulled out a little pink lamp—with battery pack, of course. It was like her suitcase was Mary Poppins’ carpetbag.

  “Did you leave room for socks?” I joked.

  Madison pointed to the third suitcase. “All my clothes are in there.”

  I nodded
, and began to climb the ladder to put her fitted sheet on the mattress.

  The next ten minutes were somewhat comical. It’s not easy to make up a princess bed on a narrow top camp bunk. That is why normal people use sleeping bags at camp! Madison stood on the ladder and threw the flat sheet and comforter toward me, and I pushed myself against the wall of the cabin and did my best to tuck things in. At one point, I backed too far toward the foot of the bed and my legs flopped overboard.

  “Allie! Be careful! I can’t afford to lose you.” Madison reached out her hand and grunted as she helped pull me back up. When the bed was all made, Madison handed me the pink lamp, and I placed it on the little shelf at the head of the bed and clicked the switch on the battery pack, turning the light on.

  “Perfect!” Madison said. “It almost makes me forget I’m at camp.”

  At that moment, a bell rang.

  Madison frowned. “What’s that?”

  I smiled. “It’s lunch.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The Bell Still Rings . . . For Now

  Madison held her hands over her ears as we made our way through the girls’ village and back to the box.

  “How long is it going to clang like that?”

  I laughed. “Until someone takes the dinger out and hides it somewhere.”

  She stopped and gave me a funny look. “Takes the dinger out?”

  “Yeah. It’s a tradition that one of the cabins sneaks out at night, takes the dinger, and leaves a clue about where they hid it. That makes Johan super grouchy, because if he can’t figure out who did it by the end of the week, that cabin earns fifty-million points.”

  “Who’s Johan?”

  “He’s our activities director. Scruffy-looking guy with wild brown hair. He wears camo pants and pretty much the same wrinkly camp shirt all week. You’ll be seeing a lot of him.”

  “Is he Dutch?”

  “Huh?”

  “I just thought with the name Johan . . .”

  “Oh! No, he’s from around here. Johan is just his camp name. He says it means champion. Johan hates to lose; therefore, he will hunt down every possible clue to find the cabin members who take off with the dinger.”