My Extra Best Friend

by Julie Bowe

  “Dah-dum…dah-dum…dah-dum…!” Rusty chants. “Shark attack!”

  Tom grabs the edge of the pool, breathing hard. “Thanks a lot,” he says to Rusty. “Five more minutes and I would have broken my record.”

  “I’m here to help, Tom-ahawk,” Rusty replies, giving Tom’s head a friendly knuckle rub. Then he gives me the once-over. “My oh my, Ida, why so dry?” He slaps at the water, splashing me.

  “Stop it!” I shove him away with my foot. I’m not usually a shover, but boys can be so annoying sometimes. Especially when their name is Rusty Smith.

  “Sheesh, Ida.” Rusty rubs his arm. “Easy on the merchandise. You break it, you buy it!”

  I squint and shove him again. Harder.

  Tweeeeet!

  I look up at the lifeguard stand.

  The lifeguard is looking down at me. She takes the whistle out of her mouth. “No horseplay,” she says.

  “Sorry,” I mumble back.

  “Hear that, Ida?” Rusty says, hoisting himself out of the pool. “Keep your hooves to yourself.” He scoops up an armful of water, soaking me.

  See what I mean? So annoying.

  Rusty gallops to his towel. It’s lying in a heap next to Brooke.

  “Can’t you drip somewhere else?” Brooke lifts her sunglasses and scowls at Rusty.

  Rusty plants a soggy foot on her towel. “Us guys called dibs on this side of the pool the first day of summer vacation. If you don’t want us dripping on you, then arrivederci someplace else.”

  He dries his chest.

  Then his armpits.

  Then his checkered butt.

  Brooke’s face goes sour. “Fine. Then I call dibs on the best side of the pool at Camp Whateverlark.”

  “Yeah,” Stacey chimes in. “Us girls will rule that pool!”

  Meeka and Jolene nod.

  Rusty wipes his wrinkled feet. “There’s no pool at Camp Meadowlark, you dorks. There’s a lake. Round Lake. Good luck calling dibs on one side of a circle!”

  Rusty laughs.

  Brooke stiffens. She sits up and gives Rusty a very serious squint. “What do you mean there’s no pool? Where do we swim?”

  “I just told you,” Rusty replies. “In the lake.” He leans in. “You do know what a lake is, don’tcha? Smelly water…slimy weeds…mucky shore.”

  Brooke blinks.

  Rusty grins. “Watch out for snapping turtles. They can take your baby toe in one bite.” He clicks his teeth.

  Brooke whips a look at the other girls. “Did you know about this?”

  Stacey, Meeka, and Jolene shake their heads.

  “Don’t worry,” Rusty says, patting Brooke’s head like a puppy. “We’ll protect you. Me, Joey, Quinn, and Tom. Your knights in shining armor.”

  Brooke squirms out from under Rusty’s hand. “No you won’t, Crusty Smith. We can take care of ourselves. Besides, Jenna told us the boys stay on one side of camp, the girls on the other.”

  “That’s only for sleeping,” Rusty says. “The rest of the time, we’ll be your constant companions.”

  He honks his nose into the towel and lets it fall over Brooke like a blanket. “Nightie-night, campers!” Then he cannonballs into the water even though he just dried himself off.

  Brooke marches over to Jenna, where she is helping Rachel in the shallow end of the pool. “Is it true?” she hollers. “We have to swim in a lake? With biting turtles?”

  Jenna glances up. “The turtles stay where it’s shallow,” she says back. “Just pass the swim test so you can go to the raft. Only fish out there, and they hardly ever bite.”

  I study my swimsuit.

  Worm-pink straps.

  Caterpillar-green swirls.

  I’m fish bait.

  I walk over to Jenna. “What if I flunk the test?”

  “You won’t,” Jenna replies. “It’s easy. Only tadpoles flunk.”

  “Tadpoles?”

  Jenna slips her hands out from under Rachel. “That’s what everyone calls the kids who have to stay in the shallow end. Tadpoles. Deep-water swimmers are called sharks.”

  I look at Tom, who’s followed me. He nods in agreement.

  “Tadpoles…snapping turtles…sharks. Are there killer whales too?”

  Tom snorts a laugh.

  Jenna gives me a huff. “The only thing that’s going to bite you is mosquitoes. Don’t you trust me?”

  I sigh. Nod. “Yes,” I say. “I trust you.”

  “Good,” Jenna says back. “Just stick with me and nothing bad will happen.”

  “Look at me, Ida!” Rachel sputters. “I’m doing the dead man’s float!”

  I look at Rachel.

  Chin back.

  Tummy up.

  Arms flapping like baby bird wings.

  Jenna rolls her eyes. “More like the goofy girl’s float.”

  Tom laughs. “Good one, Jenna!” He smiles at her and swims off.

  Jenna can’t help but smile too. Sometimes smiles have a mind of their own. Especially when you have a teeny crush on a boy. She does. On Tom.

  I hop into the water with Jenna.

  A minute later, Tess pulls Rachel away.

  Stacey jumps in behind me.

  Then Randi.

  And Meeka and Jolene.

  Even Brooke.

  We splash and squeal and dunk each other when the lifeguard isn’t looking.

  Seven goofy friends.

  Chapter

  3

  “All packed?” Dad asks. It’s Sunday. We’re leaving today.

  I stuff George down deep in my suitcase and tuck my sketchbook on top. “Uh-huh,” I say, looking over the checklist from camp. “Clothes…flashlight…swimsuit…bug repellent—everything I’m supposed to bring to camp, plus some stuff I want to bring.” I zip my suitcase shut.

  Even though sketchbook wasn’t on the list, I packed mine along. We’ll have Quiet Time in our cabin every day to read or write letters. Reading is okay, but I’d rather draw than write. George wasn’t on the list either, but I’m bringing him anyway. Brooke might think I’m too old for stuffed animals, but George would get lonely without me. I’ll just keep him hidden.

  “No candy though, right?” Dad says. “You don’t want little critters stopping by your bunk for a snack.”

  I shake my head. “Candy is on the Do Not Bring list. I don’t want to break a rule before I even get there.” I decide not to mention to Dad that Brooke is sneaking a bunch of snacks along. Jenna had a fit when she told us. If Brooke gets caught, our whole cabin could get in trouble. But, secretly, I hope she’s bringing Choco Chunks. They’re my favorite.

  “Good plan,” Dad says. “Save the rule breaking for later in the week. Give the counselors a chance to drop their guard.” He grins.

  I make a face. I know Dad’s joking. He used to be a camp counselor. All week he’s been telling me about the things counselors love. Like how they love when campers short-sheet their bunks. Or sew their pants legs shut. Or hang their shoes from the top of the bell tower.

  Mom pokes her head in from the hallway. She looks at Dad, then at me. “Is he being a bad influence again?”

  I grab the handle on my suitcase and pull it off my bed. It clunks to the floor like I packed it with bricks instead of clothes. “Like always,” I reply.

  Mom gives Dad a frown. But I can tell it’s just a costume for a grin.

  “Grab your pillow, Ida,” Mom says, tossing my sleeping bag to Dad. “Then head out.” She picks up my suitcase. “I’ll catch up in a minute. It’ll give Dad time to tell you how to booby-trap a cabin door.”

  Dad’s eyes brighten. “I almost forgot!”

  He tucks my sleeping bag under his arm and draws me into the crook of the other. “You’ll need some rope, Ida…a bucket of water…and the help of a friend.”

  I grab my pillow and take one last look around.

  Sunny walls.

  Gurgling fish tank.

  Cluttered desk.

  I see the picture of Stacey a
nd Jenna that’s sitting on my dresser.

  I smile, happy I’m bringing them along too.

  Everyone is already at Jenna’s house when we get there. All my friends, plus their parents. Mrs. Drews is driving us to Camp Meadowlark. Don’t ask me how the boys are getting there. Hitchhiking, maybe.

  “Leave your things with Mr. Drews,” Mrs. Drews tells us. “He will pack the van.”

  Mom and Dad add my suitcase and sleeping bag to the pile of stuff Mr. Drews is standing over. They chat with him for a minute and then start talking with the other parents. I wait to give Mr. Drews my pillow.

  “Be careful with this one, Paul,” Mrs. Morgan says, pulling a big pink suitcase up to Mr. Drews and parking it in front of me. “Brooke’s pageant crown and sash are inside. We wouldn’t want to damage the rhinestones!”

  “Why does Brooke need her pageant stuff?” I ask.

  Mrs. Morgan gives me a blank look. “For the talent show, of course. Camps always have them.” She looks at Mr. Drews. “Don’t they?”

  “Sometimes,” he replies, letting Brooke’s suitcase thunk into the van’s hatch.

  Mrs. Morgan frowns at Mr. Drews, then turns to me again. “What are you talented at, Ida? Singing? Acting? Dancing, like Brooke?”

  I think for a moment. “I can draw.”

  Mrs. Morgan pauses like she’s waiting for more information. “That’s it?” she finally says. “What will you do? Sketch the audience?”

  She laughs lightly.

  I lift my shoulder. “If they hold still.”

  Mr. Drews chuckles.

  Mrs. Morgan squeezes my arm. “Talk to Brooke, dear. She’ll help you think of something you’re good at.”

  I smile politely at Mrs. Morgan. And make a face when she walks away.

  “Is she right?” I ask, turning to Mr. Drews. “We have to do a talent show at camp?”

  Mr. Drews takes my pillow and squishes it into a corner. “It’s just for parents at the end of the week. Silly skits, jokes. Everyone sings the Camp Meadowlark theme song.” He leans in a little. “Most kids don’t wear crowns.”

  I nod, relieved. I don’t mind singing songs and doing silly skits as long as I’m with my friends.

  Mr. Drews lifts my suitcase into the van. Then he pulls his wallet from his back pocket and takes a photo from it. “I used to work at Camp Meadowlark,” he says, handing the picture to me. “Almost twenty years ago now, but it hasn’t changed much. Camper cabins. Dining hall. Crafts cottage. Ball field. That’s pretty much it, except for the beach and lots of woods all around.”

  I study the faded picture. Two people standing by a lake. Round Lake, I bet. I squint, but I can’t see any snapping turtles in the sand. “Is that you?” I ask, pointing to the man.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Mr. Drews says. “Minus the beard. And a few pounds.” He chuckles again.

  “Who’s that?” I point to the other person in the picture, a girl holding a clipboard. “Jenna?”

  Mr. Drews laughs. “No, Jenna wasn’t born yet. That’s Mrs. Drews. We both worked there.”

  “With her clipboard, she looks exactly like Jenna,” I say. “Only taller.”

  Mr. Drews nods and tucks the picture back into his wallet. “There’s no mistaking where Jenna’s love of organization came from.”

  “Dad, aren’t you done yet?” Jenna marches up to us. “If we don’t get going, those other girls will get the best bunks.”

  Jenna checks her watch and taps a pencil against the clipboard she’s carrying. She’s wearing a Camp Meadowlark T-shirt. The one she got last summer. Her hair is in two braids, like always. Bright red ladybug barrettes are clipped above them. The ones I bought for her.

  Mr. Drews grins at Jenna. Then he looks at me. “Ready, Ida?”

  I take a big breath. “For anything.”

  “Good-bye!” Rachel cries as we pile into the van a few minutes later. “Write to me, Jenna! Catch me a frog!”

  “There’re frogs at this place?” Brooke says, scooting in next to Stacey.

  “Duh-huh,” Jenna replies, buckling the seatbelt that’s next to mine. “That’s why they call it nature camp.”

  Brooke does a fake gasp. “Nature camp? I thought we were going to nacho camp. Obviously, I’m in the wrong van.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “Too late,” Mrs. Drews says, pulling away from the curb. “Camp Meadowlark or bust!”

  Meeka pulls a camera out of her hoodie pocket. She turns it on and looks at us through the screen.

  “Say cheese!”

  We squish together.

  “Cheese!”

  Click!

  Chapter

  4

  “How much farther?” Brooke complains as we carry our stuff down a wooded path, past a row of little brown cabins. Sparrow. Bluebird. Hawk. Each cabin’s name is painted on a sign above its front door. The boys’ cabins have bird names too. We saw them on the way to the dining hall, where we registered. “My arms are stretching longer than my legs!”

  Brooke stops to shift her sleeping bag and pillow, then starts pulling her big pink suitcase on its little wheels again.

  “I told you to pack light,” Jenna chirps.

  Brooke grumbles. “I don’t see why your mother couldn’t stick around long enough to help me carry everything. My mom would have.” Mrs. Drews left after we signed in.

  “My mother doesn’t believe in long good-byes,” Jenna says. “Besides, I know where our cabin is. I know where everything is.”

  “Where’s the bathroom?” Randi asks.

  “Yeah,” Stacey says. “I drank a gallon of soda on the way here.”

  “Me too,” Meeka adds.

  “And me,” Jolene chimes in.

  “There’s a bathroom in our cabin,” Jenna tells them.

  “One bathroom?” Brooke’s face sags almost as much as her backpack. “But there are seven of us.”

  “Ten,” I correct her. “Us, our counselor, and the other two. Cee Cee and Liz.”

  Randi sighs. “Ten girls, one bathroom. I hope someone packed diapers.”

  Everyone giggles.

  Except Brooke.

  “We’re here,” Jenna announces, stopping in front of Chickadee cabin. It’s small and brown, like the other cabins we’ve walked past. A big pot of red flowers sits on the front step. Welcome! is written on it. A banner by the front door flutters in the breeze. A chubby bird with gray wings and a black-and-white head is painted on it. A chickadee, I bet.

  The screen door creaks open and a girl steps out. She looks a little older than Brooke’s sister, Jade. She’s wearing a Camp Meadowlark T-shirt just like Jenna’s, only her shirt has Staff printed on it. Khaki shorts. Clunky sandals. Her hair is pulled back in a frizzy ponytail.

  “Welcome, Chickadees!” the girl sings, giving each of us a warm smile. “I’m Alex, your counselor.”

  Jenna steps forward. “I’m Jenna,” she says. “That’s Ida,” she continues, glancing over her shoulder, “and Randi, Meeka, Jolene, Brooke, and Stacey.” She looks at Alex again. “They’re new. I’m not.”

  Alex’s smile fades a little. Then she turns it up a notch. “Great!” she says. “An expert camper.”

  Jenna nods, then pulls out her clipboard. “I made a shower schedule on the way here. It’s alphabetical. You’re first.”

  Jenna holds the schedule up for Alex to see.

  “That’s very…helpful, Jenna,” Alex replies. “I’ll look at it later. First, I want to meet the other girls!”

  Alex goes from girl to girl, practicing our names. She must be really smart, because it only takes her two tries to memorize us.

  “Come on in and choose a bed,” Alex says, holding open the cabin door. “Top. Bottom. Whatever you like. Just leave a bunk for Cee Cee and Liz. They should be here soon.”

  Brooke grabs the handle on her giant suitcase. “Excuse me,” she says, barging past us and lugging her stuff up the steps. “I hear a top bunk calling my name.”

  When everyone is inside
we stop and look around. A bed with a colorful quilt is just inside the doorway, in a little room separate from the rest of the cabin. Stuffed animals sit along it in a neat row. A desk stands next to the bed. Jars of pens and pencils. Pads of paper. Books. A laptop. Watercolor paintings are tacked to the wall above the desk. Trees. Flowers. Birds. One of the birds looks just like the chickadee on the banner outside. Alex must be an artist, like me, I say to myself.

  “This is where Alex lives,” Jenna announces.

  “No kidding,” Randi mumbles.

  “The bathroom is through there.” Jenna points to a door across from Alex’s bed.

  “First dibs!” Randi hollers.

  “Second!” Jolene adds quickly.

  “Third!”

  “Fourth!”

  I peek through a doorway into another, bigger room. It’s bare except for five bunk beds—three on one side, two on the other. A window is on each of the side walls, and another screen door leads out the back. All I can see through it are trees.

  “Home sweet home,” Randi says, nabbing a top bunk, then heading into the bathroom. Stacey takes the next one over. Meeka and Jolene grab the bottom bunks underneath Randi and Stacey.

  “Nine campers, ten beds? I’ll take two.” Brooke tosses her sleeping bag onto the top bunk that’s closest to Stacey’s, and parks her suitcase by the bed underneath it.

  She looks around, frowning. “Where’s my dresser? And my closet?”

  “At home,” Jenna replies, claiming a top bunk across the aisle from Brooke and the others.

  Brooke grumbles, squirming off her fat backpack and letting it fall onto her bottom bunk.

  Whump!

  “If there’s no closet, where am I supposed to hide my—” Brooke pauses, making sure Alex is still talking with the other girls as they wait to use the bathroom. “My…you know…my stuff?” She glances at her snack-filled backpack.

  Jenna climbs onto her bunk and peers down at Brooke like a grumpy pirate in a crow’s nest. “You were supposed to leave your stuff at home.”

  Brooke purses her lips and flicks back her ponytail. “I give you two days, Jenna Drews,” she quips. “Then you’ll be begging me for a share of the—”

  Giggly laughter floats through the open window by Brooke’s bunks. She darts to it, pulls back the colorful curtain, and gawks out.