by Jen Calonita
“What I do is make friends easily,” I brag. “They’re going to love me here whether I like bugs and outdoorsy stuff or not. You’ll see.”
Kyle’s grin widens. “Is that a challenge, Camping Barbie?”
I hold out my pinkie like we used to do when we dared each other as kids. Kyle links his own pinkie with mine. “Oh, it’s a challenge all right. What’s the prize?”
Our bets are always better when there is a prize. One time, Kyle bet me he could list more movie stars whose names start with M than I could. He lost and had to clean our joint bathroom in Mineola all summer.
Kyle thinks for a moment, then grins. “Loser has to wear whatever the winner says for the first week of school.”
Gulp. If I lose, Kyle will dress me in lacrosse shorts, baggy shirts, and no-name clothes. Shudder! I have to win. “Deal.” We pinkie shake. “May the best camper win.”
McDaddy continues hauling bags out of the car and placing them in a pile. “You know, I could use some help here,” he prompts.
Kyle and I get out of the car and Kyle begins unloading. He drops one of my duffels on top of the pile. “Geez, how much did you pack? You must have eight bags!”
“This is everything I need to survive,” I point out. Except nail files! I forgot to pack those! I must text Mom to send a pack.
“I can survive with three bags and sports gear,” Kyle gloats. “One point for me.”
Grrr…
“Hot Pants McAllister!” someone bellows in a deep voice.
Kyle and I look at each other. “Hot Pants McAllister?” we repeat.
McDaddy flushes. “My camp nickname. Long story.”
“Oh, this I have to hear.” I watch as a guy in camo fatigues jogs toward us. He’s unusually tan and has shorn, military-style white hair. For a moment I wonder if McDaddy has secretly signed Kyle and me up for military boot camp.
“Who you calling Hot Pants, Skivvies?” McDaddy shoots back. The two burst out laughing and do some strange handshake that includes yelling out the words “Pines! Pines! Pines!” The two men hug while Kyle and I observe them in their natural habitat.
“Never gets any less lame the more times I see it,” someone says, and I realize an older girl is standing next to me. Her smirk is identical to my brother’s. “Do either of you know why my stepdad is called ‘Skivvies’?” she asks us.
“Nope,” Kyle says. “We were hoping you could tell us why our dad is ‘Hot Pants.’ ”
“Sorry,” she says and adjusts the ponytail holder in her light brown hair. “In my stepdad’s case, I have a suspicion Hitch was left stranded in a canoe in the middle of the night in just his skivvies. He won’t confirm or deny that scenario.”
A pretty woman walks up behind her. “Sam, I married the man, and I still don’t know why his camp friends call him ‘Skivvies.’ ” She looks at Kyle and me and smiles. “Hi, I’m Pam Hitchens, Hitch’s wife and the head of camp publicity and recreation. It’s nice to meet you two. Hitch has told me many stories about your dad.”
“I’m Harper, and this is my brother, Kyle,” I say. I can’t help staring at what Pam is wearing. She has on a white button-down shirt over a camouflage tank top. Maybe camouflage is the official camp uniform. I could work with that.
“I see you’ve met my daughter, Sam,” Pam says, putting an arm around her. “She’s a senior counselor. She started here when she was your age as a CIT. Of course, we changed the policy since then so kids can be campers a year longer now.”
Sam nudges me. “Lucky! Nothing beats being a camper here, and if you like the place enough, you can come back and get a job as a CIT next year.”
“Of course they’re going to like it!” Pam says indignantly. I bite my tongue.
Behind Sam, I see a few older girls and guys starting to congregate by the large pop-up tents. I bet they’re counselors. They’re wearing the red Pines T-shirts I saw in the catalog. My dreams of wearing a cute camo top and a pink skirt go out the window.
“Thanks for taking the twins in on short notice,” McDaddy tells Pam, finally rejoining the conversation. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”
“Not a problem.” Hitch hits McDaddy on the back. “Anything for Hot Pants.”
“Are you two going to tell us why you call him that?” Kyle asks.
Hitch laughs. “Nope! But I will tell you one of his other nicknames: Richie Rick. Even back then we knew this guy was destined to be a CEO. He always had all these grand ideas for the camp and ways to improve it. Who would have thought I would be the one someday running this place and you’d be hanging out with P. Ditzy?”
Sam, Kyle, and I laugh. “It’s P. Diddy, Hitch,” Sam says.
“This is why I am handling the pop culture and the publicity stuff,” Pam tells McDaddy. “We’re actually participating in a few nationwide camp contests this summer, and one has a pretty big-name talent attached to it. Do you know London Blue?”
Kyle and I look at McDaddy. “I’ve done all her music videos,” he says.
“I love London Blue!” Sam sounds a lot less composed than she was a moment ago. Sam looks at me in awe. “So, have you met London?”
I always feel awkward name-dropping when McDaddy’s job comes up with new people. I just hope Sam doesn’t tell everyone. I want the girls to like me because I am fantabulous, not because I’ve met London. I nod yes, anyway. “She’s really cool and surprisingly normal,” I say. “She also wears a lot of orange on tour, which I’m in favor of. The shade looks great with her coloring.” Sam blinks.
“Who needs celebrities when you can have the Pines?” Hitch spreads his arms wide to showcase the whole camp. “We have great facilities and awesome activities—like giant trampolines, canoeing, sailing, and a new rock-climbing wall.”
“A rock-climbing wall? Nice!” Kyle says, while I try to remain steady. I hope they don’t expect me to give that thing a whirl. Have they seen these wedges I’m wearing? Kyle winks at me. “I can’t wait to see you climb it!”
I ignore him. “What kind of nonphysical activities do you have?” I ask. “I’m a genius when it comes to party planning. I once whipped up a Fourth of July party in under an hour with only Cool Whip and orange juice in the house.”
I hear tires screeching, and the rest of my story gets drowned out by cheers. The first of several yellow buses is pulling into the parking lot.
Hitch holds up a megaphone, and Sam holds her ears. “Troops!” he yells into it, and all the counselors by the tents stop what they’re doing and look at us. “The first campers are here! Let’s give them a warm Pines welcome!” The guys and girls in red shirts immediately spring into action, picking up clipboards and walkie-talkies and yelling out commands as the first bus pulls up to the tent. “Sam!” Hitch yells, forgetting she’s standing right there. “Oh!” He drops his megaphone. “Let’s get to work.” He looks at my father. “Hot Pants, I’ll call you tonight and let you know how the kids are doing.”
“I’ll be waiting, Skivvies!” McDaddy tells him.
Sam looks at us. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll introduce you guys to your counselors first.”
“You’re not mine?” I’m disappointed.
“No, but you’ll love Courtney,” Sam says, “and we will see each other all the time because I’m in the adjoining bunk. It’s more like one large cabin with two rooms.” She looks at Kyle. “And you’re with my friend Cole. He’s a total wiseass, but in a good way.”
I feel like I’m at a London Blue concert the way the campers are carrying on all around us. Girls getting off buses are screaming when they see a friend, kids are crying as they say good-bye to parents who drove them up, and people are running around saying hi to everyone they know. The place has gone from tranquil to pandemonium in moments.
“You know what? You should probably say good-bye to your dad,” Sam says gently. “Then you can meet me at that red tent. It will be a half hour till we’re ready to go zip-lining.”
I blanch. “Zip-
lining?”
Sam grins. “Great, right? The older campers—we call them marshmallows—are doing trust-building exercises on it.”
“Marshmallows?” Kyle and I repeat. We seem to have gained a new twin power at camp—saying the same thing at the same time.
Sam shakes her head. “Corny, right? The Pines has used the same names for campers since the Stone Age. Marshmallows are the oldest, then there are pez, who are all between nine and eleven years old, and the youngest, who are under eight, are called peeps.” A group of tearful campers gets off a bus near us. “I should go deal with that. See you soon.”
“I’ve entered a real-life version of Candy Land,” I tell Kyle. “I can’t believe people are going to be referring to me as a marshmallow.”
He shrugs and turns to our dad. “This place looks cool. I’ll call you when I can.”
What kind of good-bye was that? I look at McDaddy. He reaches out to hug me, and I feel a little misty, especially since things have been so stormy between us. “I love you, kiddo. Try to enjoy it here.”
“I’ll try to.” I sigh. “And I’ll text you every day if I’m not.”
“About that…,” McDaddy starts to say but trails off. “Never mind. You’ll figure everything out in your own time.” I look at him strangely, and he gives me a kiss. “Talk to you soon.”
I watch him get in the car and slowly make his way out of the lot, getting in line with the other cars of parents that are inching their way toward the exit… and freedom. I resist the urge to run after the car and throw myself on it to get back home—if only because I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. I tend to make a good first impression, but I start to worry as I notice that the campers getting off the buses look a lot different from the girls at my school. Only a few of the girls are wearing nail polish. No one has her hair blown out. Some of them are even in sweat shorts!
Kyle has left me in the dust, so I begin making my way over to the tent where Sam told me to meet her. I am held up by a security guy letting another bus pull in. This bus is the rowdiest one I’ve heard yet. They’re singing some strange song as the bus doors open. Then a group of guys start pushing one another off.
Hello, boys!
Each guy who gets off the bus is cuter than the last. The grungy look works so much better on boys than it does on girls. And that’s when I see him emerge from the pack.
Ethan.
The cute busboy from my school Kate almost got fired.
My stomach twists and growls like it’s about to stage an exodus from my body. I’m not sure what to do. I know he sees me. Oh God. He’s looking right at me!
In a panic, I smile and give a small wave.
Ethan doesn’t return the smile. Or the wave. Instead he heads off with his friends and doesn’t bother looking back.
Harper McAllister @HarperMc
Survived drive to no-man’s-land but won’t last 24 hours. Natives are not friendly. Plus, there isn’t a Starbucks for miles! #roughingit
4
WELCOME HOME
“UM, YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO bring that to camp.”
I look up from where I’m sitting under a red tent wedged in between two duffel bags while I wait for Sam to introduce me to Courtney. I was about to text Margo about my Ethan sighting when I notice that a girl who looks like Merida in Brave is staring at me. I’m instantly envious of her curls.
“Hi!” I say in my friendliest voice. “I’m Harper.” I try to get up and realize I’m stuck. How embarrassing. The girl stares at me as I struggle to pull myself out of the bag pile and stand to greet her. “There! Took me a minute!” I laugh. “As I was saying, I’m Harper, and I’m new here.” I lean in closer. “Wow, you have amazing hair.”
Merida backs away. “I said you’re not supposed to have that here.”
I look down at my silver nails. “Nail polish?” Really? Seems like a strange rule, but I guess I can handle that. My nails could kind of use a break from all those gel manicures. “I only found out I was coming here yesterday, so I didn’t know.” I scratch at a nail. “I’m not sure I can get it off. Gel manicures are like Krazy Glue! Do you know where the nearest nail salon is around here?” I look around as if expecting to see some sort of map to off-site activities. “We do get to leave the camp, don’t we?”
“I meant your phone,” the girl repeats, wrapping a perfect curl around her finger.
“Oh!” I hold it up. The glitter case on my phone is bright green and silver, my two favorite colors. “Cute, right? The gems keep falling off whenever I drop it, which is often, but at least I can still get on Safari. I just read on Twitter that Alexis Holden is getting married! Isn’t she, like, twenty?” I play with my necklace. It’s a diamond nameplate my mom begged me not to take to camp, but I never take it off, so I wouldn’t leave it home. “I know her boyfriend is cute and all, but couldn’t she just travel the world with him instead—like she’s already doing—instead of getting hitched?”
The girl lets out something resembling a growl. “I meant you’re not supposed to bring a cell phone to camp!” Her voice is loud now. “They’re not allowed.”
I stand corrected: This girl could not be Merida in Brave. Despite the gorgeous long, red, curly hair and ivory skin she seems way too tense to star in a Disney movie. I don’t think we’re going to be friends after all. Especially now that she’s threatening to take away my lifeline, my crutch, my only link to the civilized world.
Time to try a new tactic with her. I smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
She folds her arms across her chest, hiding her Snoopy character tank top that she is wearing as a statement of… I’m not sure. She could be trying to be cool or retro, or she is just completely out of touch with fashion. I’m thinking option B. “It’s Jeanie.”
“Are you in bunk 10A, too?” I ask. “This is my first time here—”
“I know.” She runs a hand through her perfect hair. “You’re the only new girl in 10A. We got stuck with you because 10B was already at its max.”
Am I really the only new girl my age? Well, that’s never stopped me from fitting in before. It actually works to my advantage. “Their loss is your gain,” I say.
Sam appears with her clipboard. “Hey, Jeanie, I see you’ve met Harper.”
“Yep.” Jeanie sounds unimpressed. I see her look at my hand again, and I slip my phone in my pocket.
“Jeanie is the perfect person to show you around the Pines, Harper,” says Sam, giving Jeanie the classic “you got me?” mom look. “She’s been coming to the Pines since she was six, just like—”
“Camilla!” For the first time, I see Jeanie smile. She throws her arms around a pixie of a girl with short blond hair. The two scream and pull each other around and around, Jeanie’s hair whipping in a circle.
Maybe this is not a military camp. It’s a Disney Princess training camp! If so, I wonder who I get to be. What princess has a great wardrobe, bubbly personality, and curly (but not as curly as Jeanie’s), dirty blond hair? Hmm. I’m stumped.
Jeanie stops spinning and whispers something in Camilla’s ear. Jeanie and the pixie stare at me, giving me plenty of time to check out their clothes. Neither is wearing a particularly remarkable outfit for the first day of camp. Jeanie has on a Snoopy shirt, and Camilla is wearing what I think are sweat shorts and a school tee that says TIGER POWER! Yet they are staring at my killer green sundress with the bike shorts underneath as if I’m from another planet. Jeanie whispers something in Camilla’s ear again.
“Oh, you’re the new girl,” Camilla says, and I watch her size me up.
“And you’re Camilla,” I say, trying to be cute. “Can I call you Cami?”
“No,” she says, and looks at me like I’m a little strange.
How picky. You could call me H, Harp, Harpie (although that one would be kind of mean), or Harper and I’d still answer. “Nice to meet you.” I look at Jeanie again. “Do you use Kérastase treatments on your hair?” I touch a strand
and she jumps back.
“Kéra-what?” Jeanie sounds confused.
“Kérastase. It’s a hair treatment. I have some in one of my bags. I can let you try it one night. Ooh!” I grab her forearm. “We can do hair makeovers. There is nothing I like more in this world than white chocolate peppermint M&M’S and makeovers. Are you in 10A with Jeanie and me?”
“You’re in 10A with us,” Jeanie corrects me, glossing over my awesome makeover offer. “But only for the first session, right?”
Wow, word travels faster at camp than it does in homeroom.
“Jeanie Beanie and I have been in the same bunk since we were six,” Camilla brags, linking arms with her friend. I wonder if I’m supposed to give her a medal.
Suddenly a few girls push past me and race over to Camilla and Jeanie Beanie (it’s going to be hard not to call her that). They do the same squeal I’ve heard all morning and hug one another, forming a Jeanie/Camilla sandwich.
“All right! Break it up already!” a tall African American girl says as she makes her way into the tent. She looks at Sam. “Were we this annoying every season when we first saw each other?”
Sam laughs. “No, but that’s because you’ve never been the touchy-feely type.”
The first thing I notice about the older girl is her Pines T-shirt. She’s bunched it up so it is not so boxy, and she’s also fringed the bottom and added beads. Even though she’s still talking to Sam, I can’t help but interrupt her. “Can you do my camp tee the same way you did yours?” I beg. Everyone stops and looks at me. “I love it! Did you see this look in Vogue? Of course you did! It isn’t summer without an issue of Vogue! Stella McCartney is doing the exact same thing this season.”
The girl turns to look at me curiously. “Let me guess. You’re my new girl.”
Sam clears her throat. “Courtney, Harper. Harper, Courtney. You two are going to love each other, I just know it.” I notice Courtney giving her a look. Sam claps her hands. “Okay, 10A and 10B! Let’s get to the zip line for our first trust exercise before lunch.”