Mother-Daughter Book Camp

by Heather Vogel Frederick

  I laugh. “So now you’re the one worried about me? Yeah, I’m fine.” And we head back to our cabins to help get our campers ready for Council Fire.

  “We always schedule a Council Fire at the end of Parents’ Weekend,” Gwen told us at our counselors’ meeting in her cottage a few nights ago. “It gets everyone focused back on camp again, and helps avoid relapses of homesickness.”

  It’s a good strategy. Especially since I’m feeling a few pangs myself at the moment. A big piece of my heart just drove away with Darcy Hawthorne.

  “Bundle up in hoodies and sweatpants,” I tell my girls briskly, trying to shake off the blues. “It’s cool up there in the woods.”

  I duck into my cubie to change, then stop abruptly. A glass jar full of wildflowers is sitting on my dressing table. There’s a card propped up in front of it. Darcy must have managed to slip in when I wasn’t around.

  Smiling, I open the envelope. The card is adorable. On the front, two puppies who look just like Pip are curled up together on a sofa, and inside it says “I Ruff You.” He drew a heart underneath and signed it “Love, Darcy.” Feeling much better, I tack it happily to the wall above my mirror.

  The evening activity bell rings, and Cassidy and I lead our girls to the grove, where we line up by cabins, youngest to oldest. Nest and Balsam are first, of course, then us, then Bluebird and Shady Grove and Meadow, and finally the three cabins on the Hill: Far, Farther, and Outback.

  Marge holds up two fingers, and the excited chatter quickly stills. “We tread in silence to the Council Fire,” she says solemnly, a pronouncement so corny it makes me stifle a giggle, but at the same time gives me a pleasant prickle of anticipation.

  Daylight is fading as we start up the trail through the woods. Nica slips her hand in mine and I give it a squeeze.

  “I’m glad you’re my counselor, Jess,” she whispers.

  “Me too.” I smile at her, wondering what I can do to make up for a mother who says hurtful stuff that she shouldn’t. Emma hinted at dinner about an idea she has for something, but she wasn’t sure if she’d have time to pull it off.

  Since we’re one of the three youngest cabins, we get front-row seats. The logs stacked in the ring of stones are already ablaze, and I stretch my hands in front of me, enjoying the warmth. It’s amazing how cold it can get at night here, even in July.

  After everyone is seated, Gwen stands up. She has a striped wool blanket draped over her shoulders, and on her head is a sort of tiara with seven stars on it. “Council Fire is a time for gratitude and reflection,” she says. “A time to look back at the week behind us and celebrate our accomplishments, and look forward to the week ahead and set new goals.”

  I glance over at my campers, their smiling faces shining in the reflected light from the fire. It’s hard to believe that half the summer has slipped by already.

  “I know we’re all filled up full of gratitude for wonderful visits with our families today,” Gwen continues. “But I’d like you all to close your eyes for a moment and think of at least one more thing you’re grateful for this week.”

  My campers dutifully squeeze their eyes shut. Cassidy and I exchange a smile over the tops of their heads, and then we close our eyes too.

  What am I grateful for? What’s not to be grateful for? is the real question. I have a wonderful family, of course. And there’s college to look forward to—and not just any college, but Juilliard. Juilliard! In New York! I still have to pinch myself sometimes when I think about the fact that I’m actually going there.

  What else? Emma. I’m grateful for Emma. She’s the best friend anyone could ask for. I don’t know what I’d do without her, and I can’t believe she’s going to be so far away this fall. I am NOT grateful for that. Darcy, of course. I saved the best for last. He’s the cherry on top of my gratitude sundae this evening.

  “All right, girls,” says Gwen, and we open our eyes. “The first thing I want to talk about tonight is Firelighters. As you know, the Firelighter is Camp Lovejoy’s highest honor. At our final Council Fire of the summer, two girls—one from Lower Camp and one from the Hill—will be chosen for this award. We have a number of Firelighters from previous summers here with us tonight—girls, would you please stand up?”

  About a dozen campers, CITs, counselors, and staff members rise to their feet.

  “Whoa, check it out,” whispers Cassidy. “Sergeant Marge was a Firelighter!”

  Sure enough, the head counselor is standing proudly with the others.

  Gwen talks a little more about the qualifications needed for the award—service to camp, kindness to others, willingness to work hard, a cheerful attitude—and encourages everyone to keep those goals uppermost in thought.

  After that, it’s time for the counselors to hand out beads. When it’s my turn, I call out the names of all the girls whose names I painted earlier this week—one each for everyone who sang tonight, plus an extra for the soloists.

  Amy’s face lights up when she turns the wooden bead over and sees the tiny violin I painted on it.

  “Good job,” I tell her.

  Emma is next. She hands out blue beads to the swimmers in her classes who earned them, white ones to some of the campers in her writing workshop, and finally green ones with “BB” on them (for Birch Bark) to all the campers who helped with the newsletter.

  “I have one last special bead tonight, for a very special camper,” she announces after distributing the others. “Monica Simpson, would you please come up here?”

  Nica looks over at Freddie, who nods and gives her a nudge.

  “I’m sure you’ve all read the beautiful poem on the front page of the new Birch Bark,” Emma continues as Nica shyly joins her. “Since I am a poet myself, I know how hard it can be to share one’s work with others. I’m giving this bead to Nica tonight as a thank-you not only for her poem, but also for the courage it took to share it with us all.”

  Well done, Emma, I think, looking at Nica’s beaming face.

  “Let me see!” Freddie begs when her twin returns to our bench. She turns the bead over. “Oh cool, look, there’s a loon on it!”

  I give Emma a big thumbs-up.

  Council Fire is winding down when there’s a rustling in the bushes behind us. Everyone turns around to see seven figures gliding down the path. They’re dressed all in white with pale material draped around their shoulders, and they’re wearing beautiful glittery silver eye masks. Each one has a starry crown just like Gwen’s, only theirs have just one star each.

  “Rise for the Seven Sisters!” Sergeant Marge intones.

  A ripple of excitement flows through the gathered campers. The Sisters only appear once each summer, and nobody knows ahead of time when that will be, or who will be chosen to play the roles.

  As we stand up, the masked figures form a semicircle around Gwen. One of them hands her a birch-bark scroll. She unfurls it and begins to read:

  We are the Pleiades—

  We sail the dark skies.

  We come to earth each summer

  To remind you who you are.

  Not born of dust but of starlight—

  And, like stars, shining, ever shining.

  When she finishes, the figures step forward one by one.

  “I am joy,” says the first. “I embrace each day with enthusiasm.”

  “I am integrity,” says the second, whose voice sounds familiar. “I always speak and act honorably.”

  Cassidy leans over toward me. “I think that’s Melissa Yee,” she whispers, and I nod.

  As they continue around the semicircle, the skin on the back of my neck prickles. Even though I know that these are my fellow staffers in disguise, there’s something both eerie and regal about the way they stand by Gwen, their masks glittering in the reflected light of the bonfire.

  “I am honesty,” says another. “I always tell the truth.”

  One by one the seven of them step forward, on through humility, wisdom, and purity. Some of the voices I recogni
ze—including Thelma’s, from the kitchen—and some I don’t.

  The final figure steps forward. “I am courage,” she says. “I am never afraid to stand for what is right.”

  They end by speaking a single sentence in unison. “We come to earth each summer to remind you who you are.” And then, just as silently as they came, the seven figures file out, vanishing into the darkness. Without a word, we all reach out and clasp hands, and sing the traditional closing for Council Fire:

  Peace I ask of thee O river,

  Peace, peace, peace.

  Ere I learn to live serenely,

  Cares will cease.

  From the hills I gather courage,

  Visions of the day to be.

  Strength to lead and strength to follow,

  All are given unto me.

  Peace I ask of thee O river,

  Peace, peace, peace.

  As the last notes fade away, the campers start to file out of the circle, oldest to youngest, walking in silence back to camp.

  I’m passing Gwen when I’m suddenly struck by an idea. I pause for a moment and whisper something in her ear. She nods.

  Back at Cubbyhole, our campers change into their pajamas and head over to Twin Pines. Before they can climb into bed, I clap my hands quietly. “Put a sweatshirt or fleece on, girls,” I instruct them. “Right over your pajamas is fine. Then come with me.”

  “What’s going on?” asks Cassidy.

  I smile at her. “You’ll see.”

  We pad down the path to the water ski beach, where I spread a big blanket on the sand. I lie down and motion to everyone to join me. “There’s room for all of us,” I tell them, then wait for everyone to get comfortable. “Look up, girls,” I tell them, pointing to the sky. “Remember the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters who just visited our campfire? Well, the Pleiades are a star cluster, located in the Taurus constellation. You can’t quite see it this time of year, but what you can see is the Delta Aquarids meteor shower.”

  “What’s a meteor shower?” asks Freddie.

  “Shooting stars.”

  A chorus of oohs and aahs goes up at that.

  “The Delta isn’t as intense as next month’s Perseid meteor shower, but it’s still worth staying up late for.” I look over at Cassidy and smile. “Gwen thought so too.”

  “Look!” cries Nica. “I see one!”

  “Jess knows what she’s talking about,” Cassidy says. “If you’re all quiet and still, I’ll bet you see a lot of them tonight.”

  “When you wish upon a star,” I sing softly, thinking back to that night in England a few years ago when Darcy Hawthorne first held my hand.

  “Who’s got a wish to share?” asks Cassidy. “I’ll go first. I wish for the BU hockey team to have its best season ever.”

  We go around the blanket, each girl sharing her wish. For Freddie, it’s to get to be a Shark this summer in swimming. Brooklyn wants a bull’s-eye in archery; Carter a baby sister. “One as good as Chloe,” she says, and we all laugh.

  Finally it’s Nica’s turn. “I wish I could write better poems,” she says wistfully.

  I know she’s thinking about her mother’s curt words earlier today. I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “Your poems are brilliant, Nica, and you should never stop writing them.”

  “She’s right,” says Cassidy. “Gotta follow your dreams, no matter what anybody says.”

  “How about you, Jess?” asks Brooklyn, propping herself up on one elbow and looking over at me. “What do you wish for?”

  I gaze up at the sky, smiling. I already have everything my heart could possibly desire.

  For my girls, though—for my girls I wish the moon and stars.

  Becca

  “. . . it was decided that Betsy should celebrate her birthday by going up to Woodford, where the Fair was held.”

  —Understood Betsy

  I hate it when people ask me what I’m going to major in at college.

  The truth is, I have absolutely no idea.

  I know I have some strengths—I’m an excellent organizer, like my mother, for instance. Maybe it’s a Chadwick thing, but we’re both really good at taking charge and bossing people around and making sure that stuff gets done. I’m sort of interested in architecture, thanks to my grandmother who suggested it and who keeps sending me books on the subject. But as a future career? I don’t know. And I don’t know if I have any actual career-type skills. Does waitressing count? Or being a camp counselor?

  I really envy people like Theo, who’s wanted to be a herpetologist—somebody who studies snakes—since before he could even pronounce the word. Emma’s the same way. Megan and Cassidy figured out their goals early too, and Jess has so many things she’s good at it’s not even fair. Me? I guess I’ll just have to make it up as I go along.

  “Why don’t you take some business classes?” Gigi urged me when I saw her at Parents’ Weekend and we had a few minutes to talk. Megan’s grandmother is a lot like mine. Well, except for the fact that she’s from Hong Kong and my grandmother is from Minnesota. They’re both really good listeners and they love giving advice. “A smart, hard-working girl like you,” Gigi told me, “should be running her own business.”

  I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I really respect Gigi’s opinion. She’s smart, and she’s an amazing businesswoman herself. In addition to the tea shop, she owns rental properties in Hong Kong, and she has a bunch of other investments. Gigi’s the one who, when she found out that I was saving for a car, helped me open an account that earned decent interest instead of just keeping my tips in a glass jar on my dresser. It made a big difference over the course of the two years I worked to earn the money, and I finally bought my first car this spring, right before graduation. I’m letting Stewart use it this summer while I’m here at camp, but I’ll be taking it to Minneapolis with me when I leave for school this fall.

  “Becca!”

  I jerk out of my reverie. “Sorry, what?”

  “Gwen just asked you a question,” says Sergeant Marge.

  We’re sitting in the living room of the Director’s Cottage for our weekly post-lunch cabin counselors’ meeting. The CITs are on duty covering for all of us during rest hour. “I was just wondering if you and Megan have any issues with your campers that you’d like to bring up,” Gwen repeats.

  Megan and I exchange a glance. I shrug.

  “Not really,” I tell her. “Harper seems to be over her homesickness, and Amy still struggles with it a bit, but she’s starting to come out of her shell.”

  Gwen nods. “Good work. Anything else?”

  “This is probably no big deal,” Megan adds, “but last night I overheard Grace and her friends talking about how they think the cubie house is haunted.”

  Gwen’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “Yeah, some of our campers have been talking about that too,” says Cassidy. “I guess one of the girls heard sounds in there a few nights ago.”

  Sergeant Marge frowns. “What kinds of sounds? Voices? I’ll call over to Pinewood and talk to them, if it’s those boys again.”

  “No, not voices,” Cassidy tells her. “More like rustling or scratching.”

  “It’s probably the skunk,” says Gwen, making a note of it. “I’ll have Artie get the trap out.”

  “You won’t hurt him, will you?” Jess sounds anxious.

  “Not at all,” the camp director assures her. “We get one wandering through just about every summer, and Artie’s become a master at trapping and relocating them.” She puts her clipboard down. “Now, girls, tonight is our annual all-camp surprise birthday party.”

  A few of the other counselors—including Felicia, surprisingly—squeal at this news. I’ve heard about this tradition. It’s one of camp’s most popular ones, designed to celebrate everybody’s birthday in one fell swoop.

  Cassidy looks over at Megan and me. “More songs ahead,” she whispers. Cassidy thinks all the singing we do here at Camp Lovejoy is hilarious. I do too, act
ually, in an annoying sort of way. I’ve never sung so much in my life, not even in kindergarten.

  “As you know, this is all top-secret,” Gwen continues. “Ethel and Thelma are working on the cupcakes even as we speak, and the CITs will be decorating the Dining Hall during free period.”

  Sergeant Marge circles the living room, passing out big paper grocery bags to each pair of cabin counselors.

  “What’s this?” asks Jess, peering into hers.

  “Presents for your campers, wrapping paper, and ribbon. You all get started wrapping while Gwen keeps talking, okay?”

  We do, and she does.

  “Our evening activity tonight will be traditional birthday games,” Gwen continues, “Musical chairs, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, that sort of thing. With a Camp Lovejoy twist, of course. The girls love it.”

  “Happy birthday to everyone,” sings Cassidy in a whisper, and I stifle a giggle.

  “Between the birthday party and our big field trip tomorrow to the state fair, the campers are going to be pretty keyed up this weekend. So if you have any memory-makers up your sleeves, I’d suggest you postpone them for a few days.”

  Gwen introduced us to memory-makers way back during orientation.

  “I want you all to do something special for your campers this summer,” she’d told us. “I want you to break a rule—a minor one. Give them the thrill of thinking they’ll be caught. Let them go skinny-dipping, raid the kitchen for a midnight snack, do something ever-so-slightly naughty that they can take home with them as a fun and exciting memory.”

  There’s only one condition: We have to tell Gwen first. I guess that way she can make sure we aren’t choosing an activity that’s lame-brained or unsafe, plus, she’ll make sure we don’t get into trouble with Sergeant Marge.

  Megan and I are pretty well settled on a midnight snack as our memory-maker. Ice cream bars, maybe, or possibly a doughnut run if we can borrow Cassidy’s minivan and get permission to take our girls off camp property. Emma’s trying to talk Felicia out of her pet plan, which is to have their campers dress up and reenact a medieval joust on the tennis courts. Jess’s cousin has this idea to use tiki torches for lights. Cassidy thinks it’s kind of cool, but seriously, with seven-year-olds? They’ll probably set their costumes on fire.