I immediately covered my mouth.
Oops. I shouldn’t have said that to rival cabin members.
“The dinger? She’s gonna steal the dinger?” Kendall smiled. “I want in! When’s it happenin’?”
I had to think about that for a minute. Had any cabins in the history of Camp 99 Pines worked together to remove the dinger?
I guess there was always a first time for everything. It was shaping up to be that kind of week.
“I can be the climber,” Ruby said as she slopped some noodles into her mouth.
“I’ll take care of photography,” Lola said. “We’ll want to record this for posterity.”
“We need to bring Hunter too,” Kendall said. “He’d be so disappointed if we all did this without him.”
“Wait.” I put out a hand. “We’re getting boys involved now too?”
“Why not? I’ll tell Parker and you can invite Nathan. G4, G5, and B6—stealing the dinger. It’ll be an epic way to celebrate our last year at Camp 99 Pines.”
That comment by Kendall sort of sent my emotions on a roller coaster.
Last year at camp? Invite Nathan? And what about Madison? And don’t forget that Bliss knows what we’re planning.
“Madison wants to do it tonight,” I said. “Because Johan won’t be expecting a prank so early in the week.”
“That’s brilliant!” Lola beamed.
“I got it, y’all.” Kendall took out a pen and started drawing on a napkin. Everyone leaned in to see. “We’ll pretend we’re going on a potty run, and we’ll meet in front of the guest lodge near the girls’ village at midnight. Then we’ll make our way to the bell where we’ll ask the boys to meet us at 12:05. Then, we form a human pyramid, and Ruby can climb up and get the dinger. That way we won’t waste time draggin’ a ladder around. We’ll hide the dinger and get back to the cabins before our counselors even start to worry.”
“Oh, we won’t be worried.”
The young woman’s scratchy voice behind our huddle startled us. Forks dropped, spaghetti sauce splattered, and we all turned to see Bliss and Ember—the counselor for girls’ Cabin Five—standing there, crossing their arms.
Bliss smiled. “Like Ember said, we won’t be worried, because we’re goin’ with y’all.”
CHAPTER 15
Bullseyes
I always say I’m going to practice my archery and shooting skills more during the year so I have a chance to win the girls’ sharpshooter and archer awards at camp.
But I don’t, so I never do.
I really love it though—especially archery. But my arrows always fly a little higher than I’d like.
“Bullseye!” Ruby yelled, after she let her arrow fly.
Ruby always gets bullseyes.
Turns out the girls in Cabin Four were pretty good archers. Even Madison managed to get a couple of arrows close to the middle right off the bat and this was the first time she’d ever held a bow.
“I just imagine that if I hit that ring I can instantly be transported to my comfy bedroom with my clean, cushy rug and snuggly puppy.”
She pulled back the bowstring, aimed, and let the arrow fly.
And sure enough that arrow landed right in the middle of the circle.
“Bullseye!” she yelled.
You should try Madison’s trick, Allie! Use your imagination. What do you want more than anything right now? Take aim, and go for it!
There were a lot of things to choose from but the one that seemed to rise to the top was this:
I just want to have a fun week at camp! No drama, no complications, just smooth, easy, fun. After all, it may be my last.
“Okay, here goes nothin’.”
I pulled back, took aim, and let it fly.
I must have had a muscle spasm or something, because the arrow flew over the top of the target and hit a tree.
“Well, at least you hit somethin’,” Bliss said.
I took the bow down from my shoulder and examined it.
“I’ve never totally missed the target.” I grabbed another arrow out of the basket and tried again.
Fun week, calm week, victorious week. That’s what I want.
I pulled back. The arrow flew and hit Julia’s target next to mine.
“Thanks for the points, Allie,” Julia laughed.
What in the world was going on here? This was just a silly technique to rack up archery points.
Or maybe it’s a little more than that.
That small voice inside was one I’d heard before but it always takes me by surprise, showing up when I least expect it. And this was a silly time—when I was holding a bow and arrow.
I set the bow down so I could watch my new friends in Cabin Four take their turns. They were nailing the bullseyes left and right.
I didn’t want to be with these girls, God. In fact, I prayed for something else.
Madison pulled back again and right before she let the arrow go, she said, “If I get a bullseye, it’s a spa day followed by chicken alfredo for dinner and raspberry cheesecake for dessert.”
Of course, she hit the bullseye.
“Yes!” she yelled.
Bliss laughed. “Well, Chef Gumbo told me it’s gonna be sloppy joes tonight, but keep that imagination going, girl. Our cabin’s way out in the lead with the archery points.”
I tried again and another of my arrows went in the wrong direction.
“Well, you’re sure not getting whatever you’re wishing for,” Madison said.
You have no idea.
I squinted at Madison. “Don’t get cocky, Miss Beginner’s Luck.”
Madison looked over and examined me. “I think you’re just trying too hard because you’re Miss Experienced Camp Girl. Relax and go with the flow.”
Go with the flow. Stop trying to control your week.
I shook my head around, trying to dislodge that last thought. But I couldn’t because it wasn’t mine. It was God again. How do I know? Because I would never tell myself to stop controlling things. If I did, things could get crazy.
I specialize in that. In a good way.
“Whatever!” I said, a little too loud.
Oops.
“Someone’s a little grumpy,” Madison said, and she let another arrow fly into the bullseye. “But I guess maybe I have enough points to cover you.” Madison looked over and winked, and our archery leader, Pepper, called for us to put down our bows and retrieve our arrows.
“Allie Carroway, there’s a step stool behind the targets you can use to get that one out of the tree.”
BBs were next, and I was much better at that. Probably because we do a little shooting while filming Carried Away with the Carroways.
And the best part of BBs was that Madison had to kiss the gun because she released the safety too soon.
“Next time you have to lick it,” our BB instructor, Domino, said.
Bliss couldn’t watch. “I’ll meet y’all down by that log when your turn is over.”
During the break, while Cabin Three took their turns shooting, I had a chance to discuss “Operation Dinger” with Bliss and the rest of the cabinmates.
“You mentioned this to your cousins?” Madison put a hand on her hip.
“I’m sorry, it just slipped out.”
Madison pushed her hand into her now out-of-control red mop.
“And you want to involve the boys too?” Bliss put a fist to her chin. “This doesn’t have anything to do with love, does it?”
I laughed nervously. “Well, yeah, but it’s love for my cousin, Hunter. Ever since he was adopted we’ve made it a priority to include him in everything.”
Bliss stared into my eyes. I hoped she didn’t see any clues of a crush on a certain California surfer.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll do it. Girl’s Four and Five, and Boy’s Six. But we can’t take everyone. We’ll sound like a stampede of cattle running through the camp. We’ll wake Johan, and if he catches us, we’re toast, and Ember, Blaze, and I will be t
hrown in the swamp as an Allibeaver snack.”
It’s tradition at Camp 99 Pines that any counselors caught aiding campers in a prank during the week be thrown in the swamp on the last day of camp—while everyone in the camp cheers. The “Allibeaver” is a fictional character—a monster that is half-alligator and half-beaver—made up to scare the little kids from jumping into the lake to try to swim during their boating activities.
“But we need lots of people to make the pyramid tall enough for me to reach into the bell,” Ruby said.
Bliss nodded. “I think we can do it with ten.”
And so we decided on the ten: me, Madison, Ruby, Kendall, Lola, Hunter, Parker, Nathan, Bliss, and Blaze—the Boys’ Six cabin counselor.
“Ember can keep an eye out while we’re gone, which won’t be long,” Bliss said. “Let’s talk to the rest of the girls during free time and I’ll clue Blaze in at dinner.”
“Where should we hide the dinger?” Ruby asked.
Madison put an index finger to the side of her face.
“I think we should put it at the bottom of the pool.”
CHAPTER 16
Nappy-Time?
After our rec time, and before free time, we always have what is called “Nappy-Time.” It’s a thirty-minute quiet time when we all have to be in our cabins “sleeping.” Usually the only person sleeping is the counselor and the rest of us are eating candy under the covers and making plans for what we’re going to do during free time.
But on Monday afternoon in Cabin Four, the one who was most awake was Bliss.
And she was studying through the crackly pages of Mamaw’s scrapbook.
“Girls, check this out! Guess who was the winner of the sharpshooter award the first year? My aunt Betsy!”
A few of us came out from our candy-filled sleeping bags to take a peek at the scrapbook.
“I bet she didn’t have to kiss a gun,” Madison said. “I can still taste it. Does anyone have a really strong mint?”
Hayley handed her one and Madison popped it in her mouth, which started her on a tear of powerful sneezing.
“That’s good,” Bliss said. “Just sneeze out that door, please. You’re purging all the gun germs from your system. Here, girls, have some hand sanitizer.”
Bliss took out a brand-new gallon-sized container from her suitcase and we had squirts all around.
“So, did you find any more clues about the disappearance of Cabin Six?” I asked.
Bliss shook her head. “No, but I thought this was interesting.” She pointed to a flyer that advertised a fundraising dinner and silent auction for supporters of the camp.
“It says right here, ‘For future generations—keep Camp 99 Pines open for another season. We’re relying on our faith and on your generosity.’”
And then it specified a date for the dinner. The end of August. And there was a picture of a middle-aged couple with a teenaged-boy standing in between them. Below the picture it said, “Quincy, Audrey, and Patterson Gables.”
And at the bottom of the flyer, it said,
“Till all the lost are found.”
“What does that mean?” Madison asked.
“It comes from a story Jesus told about a shepherd who loved each of his sheep so much that he left 99 of them alone so he could go and search for one that was lost,” Bliss said. And then she looked up into Madison’s eyes. “The story shows how much God cares about each one of us. He’ll go anywhere, do anything, and risk everything to find you, Miss Madison. Do you know that?” Bliss smiled.
Whoa, a serious spiritual moment during Nappy-Time! We all waited for Madison’s response.
She stepped back from our little huddle. “Hmmm. Well, I’m not sure he cares that much. But I would still love for him to come rescue me out of this swamp.”
Yes, Jesus. Please come get Madison out of her swamp.
CHAPTER 17
Campfire Talk #2
The plan was set—and it was a good one. I couldn’t imagine a better crew for this epic prank. We decided to leave a note in the bell, so when Johan went to ring it in the morning, and he heard no clang, he would climb up and find this little message:
I heard the bell on Christmas Day,
But not today, but not today.
And that’s because we got you good.
The dinger’s gone in the morning!
Signed, Sneaky Campers
. . . heeheehee!
Kendall wrote the poem, and of course it was a song, sung to the tune of the Christmas carol, “I Saw Three Ships.”
“How are we going to stick the note on the bell?” Madison leaned over me to whisper to Bliss during our night two campfire talk.
“Hunter always carries duct tape with him,” I said.
“And we get points if Johan doesn’t figure out who took it till Friday, right?” Madison was scribbling something on a notepad that she had tucked into Mamaw’s lavender Bible.
“That’s my understanding,” Bliss said. “If he can’t come up with evidence that reveals we took it we’ll get fifty-million extra points.”
“And what happens if we get caught?” Madison asked.
“Then we get an S.O.S.,” I said.
“S.O.S?”
“Special Opportunity to Serve,” Ruby said. “Like picking up all the broken water balloons from the field after water day or scrubbing the bathhouse . . .”
“Oh, no. Then we WON’T be getting caught,” Madison said.
“I agree,” Bliss slapped her knee. “There isn’t enough hand sanitizer in the entire world for that.”
Maestro jumped up on stage and began strumming some of our most favorite worship songs. Again, joy filled my heart and I thanked the Lord for Camp 99 Pines.
But Madison scribbled away on her notepad the whole time.
Finally, when I was totally distracted by her rudeness and wanted to pick her up and send her crowd-surfing down to the bottom of the amphitheater our camp speaker, Pastor Bo, got up and asked a question:
“How many of you haven’t taken a shower yet at camp?”
Hands shot up proudly from the boys’ side of the amphitheater. I searched for Nathan, but couldn’t find him. That was good for now. Ha! He was probably in the shower.
Most of the girls’ hands stayed down. I knew most of them had taken showers. The line tonight had been ultra-long. One girl was in there so long that she finally got yelled at.
“At home I take hour-long showers,” she argued from the other side of the curtain.
To which, my cousin Kendall, who was next in line replied, “THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME!”
Pastor Bo pinched his nose between his thumb and index finger. “I thought something smelled funny on this side of the camp.”
“We smell like the woods!” Hunter said.
That’s nothing to brag about, cousin.
The boys hooted and hollered and the girls groaned.
Pastor Bo looked over at the girls. “Well, you just wait, girls, you’re going to be dirty again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and you’ll have to take that shower again, and again, and again . . .”
Madison crossed her arms. “And what horrible dirt games are we going to play tomorrow and the next day and the next day?”
I laughed a little to myself.
Pastor Bo continued. “And just think about this—that’s just your outside getting dirty. What about all the dirt on the inside? The dirt in your heart? That takes more than a simple shower to clean up.”
Madison uncrossed her arms, looked over at me briefly, and dropped her chin.
“The Apostle Paul, who was a follower of Jesus, wrote this in a letter to the church in Rome:
No one is righteous—not even one.
No one is truly wise,
No one is seeking God.
All have turned away;
All have become useless.
No one does good,
Not a single one.
Madison scribbled a note on her pad and ha
nded it to me.
NO ONE?
I took my pen and scribbled under it.
YEP.
Then, Pastor Bo went on to tell a story about when he was in fourth grade and he decided he was tired of doing his math homework. Each day he tore out the page from the workbook, shoved it way back in his desk, and told his mom that he finished his work in class and didn’t have homework.
“It worked for a few weeks, or so I thought,” Bo said. “But then, guess what happened? It was time for my parent/teacher conference, and I was invited to come along. And during that conference, my teacher told me that she hadn’t received any math work from me in a long time. I acted surprised and assured her I had been turning it in. She didn’t come right out and accuse me of lying, but she did ask if maybe instead of turning it in I had left it in my desk instead. ‘May I take a look?’ she asked.”
A collective groan sounded from the whole kids’ camp.
“Yeah, so you know what happened next, right? She starts pulling out all my papers! They were smashed and some were folded up all accordion-like since they were stuffed back there so tight for so long.”
“Busted!” some boy yelled from the crowd.
Pastor Bo frowned. “Yeah, I was caught. And then came the consequences. For six weeks, I had to go straight home from school, do my homework for the day, and then I had to work on all my past-due math pages. I even had to stay home on the weekends! No friend time, no TV, no parties, nothing. Not until I paid for my wrongdoing and got those math pages caught up. It was the longest six weeks of my life!”
“You shouldn’t have done it,” some girl yelled out.
Pastor Bo laughed. “You’re right. I was sure a fool to think I could hide all that and no one would find out. But I learned my lesson, and thankfully, I could make it all up and get back on the right track. And I didn’t end up flunking fourth grade math either.”
“Good job, Bo!” That was Hunter again.
“But, friends, the dirt in our hearts that God calls sin has a much bigger consequence than I suffered when I hid my fourth-grade math papers. The Bible says that this sin separates us from God because God is Holy and he can’t be in the presence of sin.”
Finding Cabin Six Page 8