by Robin Mellom
Trevor leaned in closer and narrowed his eyes. “The only reason you’re…what?”
She bit her lip, hesitant about finishing her sentence. But she took a deep breath and let it out. “You’re the only reason why I’m excited to go, okay?”
Even with all the bad fluorescent lighting, he could tell she wasn’t just smiling. She was blushing.
“Sometimes it feels like you’re my only real friend, Trevor,” she said. “And if someone has to save me from a flying bat or gross food or a mutant frog, it’d be cool if it was you. Got it?!”
Trevor grinned. He liked that she got a little mean when she was being nice.
He stared at her for a moment. Molly sharing her feelings was all so new. He wasn’t sure what to say. All that staring made him realize he liked the new electric blue highlights in her hair. But a hair compliment would probably be out of place at this moment. What to say…what to say…?
Blink. Blink.
“Trevor, quit blinking at me. Whatever. Just forget what I said—”
“No, no! It’s good. You sharing stuff is good.”
Her face softened again as she looked at him, not saying a word. And suddenly, all his ideas about how he could get out of this trip disappeared. His fears, phobias, and allergies simply drained right out of him.
He had been worried this trip would turn into a disaster. That Corey Long would find a way to humiliate him in an epic way. That he would look like a loser in front of Molly.
But even if all those things did happen, maybe she wouldn’t think he was a loser. She never had in the past. Without a doubt, Molly was a good friend to him.
It was time he was a good friend to her, too.
“I’m excited to go, too,” he said. “You can protect me from humiliation, and I’ll protect you from mutant frogs. Deal?”
She stuck out her hand and firmly shook his. “Deal.”
I can’t believe that just happened. I just agreed to go on this trip. We shook on it and everything, so there’s no turning back now. Maybe this trip won’t be a disaster. It is possible that Libby was right—that I can handle more than I think I can.
So for now, I guess the best thing I can do is pack for ALL emergencies.
For example: running out of water on a hike. Or stepping on a rattlesnake. Or eating a burned s’more. Or, heaven forbid, getting lost in the woods with someone whose name rhymes with Borey.
[pulls out cell phone]
I need to call my mom. She’s going to have to get me a bigger bag.
I have checklists and checklists for my lists. I am ready. Even though I have a nagging feeling there is something I’m forgetting. That’s probably normal, though.
It’s quite important that this trip goes smoothly. Sure, I’ll get complaints from parents about there not being enough gluten-free, dairy-free, fat-free meal options. The dining hall manager at Camp Whispering Pines is—how should I say this—quite rigid when it comes to requests.
So I have no doubt I’ll get complaints about the food.
But I want this trip to go well because of my daughter. Molly is in her last week at Westside, and she’s done an amazing job this year. She hasn’t slammed her bedroom door as much, she hums happily when she touches up her highlights, and she’s even made a friend. Maybe two.
I want her to end this year on a great note. She needs to see she can make it through anything she faces. Even when things change, she will be fine.
I told her all that this morning on the ride in to school. But then I realized she had her headphones on the whole time.
[sighs deeply]
So I’m just going to do whatever it takes to make this trip great—
BATTERIES! That’s what I didn’t put on my list!
I’m going to rewrite my list and start all over again. Just to be safe. I don’t want anything to go wrong.
THAT AFTERNOON ON THE BUS ride home, Libby cheerfully bounced her knees. Trevor was sitting next to her and couldn’t help but wonder what the joyous knee bouncing was all about. Plus, it was making him a little dizzy.
“Your knees are doing a happy dance becaaaaauuse…”
No answer—just a grin.
“You finished planning the Wednesday-night social?”
“Don’t remind me. I’ll get to that soon.” Then she turned to face him, looking giddy. “This is about something completely different.”
“Spill it.”
“Okay, you know those survival TV shows where people are lost in the wilderness and have to figure out how to stay alive?”
“Please tell me that’s not one of the activities you have planned for the social.”
She ignored him and continued. “They always get back to the basics…no computers, no cell phones, no hair gel. And then you get to see what the people are really like. You see what kind of person they are without all those distractions.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes!” Libby clasped her hands together. “All this time Corey Long has been dropping hints that he likes me, but I could never be sure. Plus, he’s been avoiding eye contact with me ever since admitting to liking me over the school intercom. Except I’m not sure I like him.”
Trevor shrugged. “I’m no expert, but you liking him is probably an important part of both of you liking each other. See? That didn’t even make sense.”
Libby continued. “And so I came across this quiz in my Pop Psychology magazine called ‘Is He Your Love, or Just Lame?’ And there were a bunch of questions about likes and dislikes and what would he do if someone cut in line at lunch and got the last slice of pizza.”
Trevor stroked his nonexistent beard. “Ahh…magazine quizzes—a reliable way to make all life decisions.”
“It’s a start. And now I’ll get to see the real Corey on this trip…no hair gel. Just him—the real him. I need to see if Corey’s my match.” Her eyes lit up.
Whoa, Trevor thought. Libby’s eyes are lighting up because of Corey Long?
He wasn’t sure what to think of this. All her downright giddiness was because she planned to use this trip to determine whether or not she liked Corey. And not just like…but the gleam in her eye seemed to mean LIKE-LIKE.
Except Trevor had opinions about this. Big opinions. OF COURSE COREY ISN’T A GOOD MATCH FOR YOU, LIBBY! he considered shouting loudly. But then something she said changed his mind. “Did you say we’re not allowed to bring hair gel?”
She nodded. “Cindy told me that Jamie told her that she overheard Brian tell Brad that they accidentally eavesdropped on Miss Plimp, who said Decker mailed a letter to Corey making sure he didn’t bring hair gel. They’re worried he’ll turn out like his brother. We’ll see, I guess.”
Trevor formed a picture in his head of Corey hanging out around the campsite with absolutely no hair gel.
Trevor thought all this was perfect. Corey would show his true colors, and Libby would realize he wasn’t good enough for her. And Trevor wouldn’t even have to make some big dramatic scene explaining all this to her!
“It’s a good idea, Lib. This trip and that magazine quiz will probably tell you everything you need to know about that guy.”
She smiled. “Right? It’s the perfect time to see what he’s really like.” She leaned her head against the window and said softly, “I hope it works out.”
As mailboxes and trees passed by the window, Libby imagined what it would be like witnessing Corey’s real side. She worried that it was the hair gel that made him cool…confident…handsome…dateable.
Which meant she might see the worst side of him, even if he was all sorts of handsome at the same time.
Libby realized that Trevor was asking her questions about going on the trip, but he hadn’t said one thing about wanting to get out of the trip. Had he changed his mind? She whirled around to face him. “So…are you going on the trip?”
He nodded as he stared down at his hands.
“That’s great!” She elbowed him. “So Decker wouldn’t let yo
u use an allergy excuse, huh?”
“I changed my mind. I want to go.”
Libby’s eyes grew as big as truck tires. “You, Trevor Jones. Want to go?!”
Trevor didn’t want to tell her he’d decided to go because of Molly. He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach—one he couldn’t quite describe. He just knew he was excited Molly wanted him to go. Maybe this strange feeling in his stomach meant he LIKED-LIKED her?
Or it could’ve just been a bad burrito.
Trevor rubbed his temple at the thought of whether to tell Libby all his confused thoughts about Molly that seemed to be affecting his stomach.
Seventh grade was only getting more complicated by the minute. He sort of missed the days of being a second grader, when his list of worries was simple.
Libby crunched down on an apple left over from her lunch. “Do you want help with packing tonight? I’m all done. You could borrow my spreadsheet to help you.” She then whipped out the spreadsheet and shoved the paper into his hands.
Trevor took one glance at the paper and felt a little overwhelmed by the headings. There were times, he felt, when his dear friend Libby was amazingly prepared for life. And then there were times when she was a little too prepared—freakishly prepared. This was one of those times.
“Thanks, Lib. But I got this,” Trevor said in his best convincing voice.
She tucked her spreadsheet into her backpack and grinned at him. “This trip is going to be life changing; I can feel it.” She folded her hands in her lap and gazed out the window, letting out a happy sigh. “So many things are going to happen, Trev.”
He looked up at the roof and said under his breath, “Let’s hope not.”
Okay, so, packing? It took me four and a half hours to implement my detailed packing plan. And it was SO worth it! I have the cutest packed suitcase EVER. Even if a Princess Unicorn Rainbow Fairy packed her bags for the Bahamas, I’d STILL have a more stunning bag.
I can’t wait to show it to Savannah Maxwell, my Sensitivity Buddy and FBFFLFR. Future Best Friend for Life for Reals!
I am about to rock Savannah’s boots off!
And I have one big surprise in store for everyone. You won’t believe how much problem solving I used. Even Miss Problem Solver herself—Libby Gardner—will be impressed.
Oh my word, I am having the BEST DAY.
This packing thing is so easy.…
Two shirts.
Two skirts.
One pair of boots.
A toothbrush.
And my stuffed Soul Bear.
That’s all I need.
Now, let’s get this over with.…
IT WAS SEVEN A.M. THE AIR WAS CRISP and chilly. The sun was rising.
Not a single person was excited about this.
Except, that is, for Marty, who was first in line. And there was also Miss Plimp, who happened to be a morning person. She was also an afternoon person. And an evening person. Overly Excited No Matter the Time of Day was her preferred state of being.
The mob of students huddled around the buses, all sleepy eyed and sluggish. The parent chaperones chugged from their coffee mugs in a desperate attempt to wake up. That’s when Miss Plimp pulled out her megaphone and cheered, “Gooooood morning, Westside!”
The response was a collective “grrrrrr.”
But she just smiled because she had so much good news to share. “I will break you into your Pal-Around Pods. Such a great name, right?” She didn’t wait for a response (but technically she didn’t get any). “This will be your group of eight that will share a cabin. And you’ll all stay together for group hikes and Trust Walks!” Miss Plimp forged ahead down her path of positivity. “Now, let’s give a round of applause to all our awesome chaperones!”
Trevor and a few students had woken up enough to clap for the row of parents standing at the back of the group.
Trevor popped up on his toes to get a better look at the parent volunteers. He recognized only one—Mr. Applegate, Cindy’s father. Mr. Applegate didn’t look up to acknowledge the clapping directed at him, because he was a rather busy man. Next to him was Cindy, looking very much like his daughter. They were doing their signature “Applegate Power-Chew” since gum wasn’t allowed on the trip.
Miss Plimp skipped around and grouped kids into their Pal-Around Pods. When she reached Trevor, she said, “You’ll be with Corey, of course.” She pointed over to Corey, who was yawning. “The rest of your group is already huddled behind him. They sure are eager!”
Or they’re already trying to get on Corey’s good side, Trevor thought.
“Can I ask you one question?” Trevor said just before Miss Plimp skipped off. “Why would you pair me with Corey? You know about our rocky past.”
She wrinkled her nose and smiled. “I put a lot of thought into the partners. As I said before, trust the process.”
“Trust the process,” he repeated.
“Now you’re getting it!” She patted him on the head and moved on.
Trevor had no idea what process she was referring to, and he certainly had no desire to trust it.
This is going to be a long trip.
As he got in line for the bus, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Have a great trip,” Wilson said.
Trevor shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“As long as you’re prepared, you’ll do fine.”
Trevor had brought along plenty of survival items, but he was suddenly clobbered with doubt. Had he brought everything he would need?
“What do I need to be prepared for?” The line moved forward. “And, um, could you tell me real quick because this line is really moving here?”
Wilson counted off on his fingers. “Carry water. Never eat a poisonous berry. If you’re lost, stay where you are—rescuers will always find you. And never, ever touch a slimy doorknob. You don’t need to know why…just trust me.”
Trevor scratched his head. “Thanks?”
Wilson gave him a thumbs-up as he moved up in the line and onto the bus. Trevor’s Pal-Around Pod was in the far back of the bus. He recognized only a few faces. The Baker twins—Brian and Brad (he still wasn’t sure which was which).
And Corey Long.
(Of course.)
(Unfortunately.)
Corey stared out the window with his forehead pressed against it, not looking Trevor’s way. There was an open seat right next to him. Except it wasn’t just an open seat—it was the only open seat.
His heart sped up, doing double time.
I can’t ride next to this guy for a two-hour bus ride! Trevor silently yelled.
He shut his eyes tight as he felt an overwhelming rush of panic wash over him. A panic tsunami.
But that’s when a distinct smell filled the air. Strawberry watermelon.
“Excuse me, Trevor. I need to sit down.” It was Mr. Applegate pushing his way through the crowded bus. He’d just finished power-chewing gum, and the smell still lingered.
“There’s an open seat right here for you, sir.” Trevor pointed to the open spot next to Corey.
“But where will you sit, son?”
“He can sit here!” It was Brian, or possibly Brad (no one knows, but who cares at this point!), pushing himself over to make room for Trevor. Luckily, the Baker twins were ultrathin, so there was plenty of room.
He plopped down in the seat and let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys.”
The seat was in front of Corey and Mr. Applegate. Trevor would have preferred his seat to be football fields away from Corey Long, but at least he wasn’t sitting next to him. Trevor had no idea if Corey was going to be Nice Corey, Halfway-Decent Corey, or Downright-Evil Corey, and that was so many Coreys to consider that Trevor wasn’t quite ready to find out.
As the bus pulled away from the curb, Trevor leaned over to wave good-bye to the one person still left watching them leave.
Wilson.
He waved at the students and couldn’t control the huge s
mile that filled his face. So much buffing and waxing was about to get done. These next few days will be the best, Wilson thought. Beans ’n’ franks, here I come.
As the bus headed down the road, Brad-or-possibly-Brian Baker leaned over and said to Trevor, “I found out we’re in Cabin Thirteen. Can you believe it?”
Trevor shrugged. “So?”
He felt a poke on his shoulder and turned to see Corey draped over the back of his seat. “Don’t you know about Cabin Thirteen?” Corey’s voice was low and far too menacing for Trevor’s taste.
Trevor shook his head slowly and wished he did know something about Cabin Thirteen other than the fact that it was probably next to Cabin Twelve.
A wicked grin filled Corey’s face. “Dude, Cabin Thirteen…is haunted.”
Did you see what happened back there? There was a wicked grin on Corey’s face. I knew it…he’s back to being Up-to-No-Good-Corey. There was something about the way he used the word haunted—it was like it was his best friend or something. What is he up to?
But I can tell you, I am tired of trying to figure that guy out.
My plan is to use my strongest survival skill: AVOIDANCE.
I, Trevor Jones, know how to run away from anything.
And so it begins. Three days of silence. Three days of no students dropping things on the floor. Three days of no students getting their lockers jammed. Three days of—you know, I could go on forever.
First up, I need to set up my tent on the blacktop. But no need to worry—it’s not like I’m going to suffer or anything. I brought a generator. Tonight I plan to watch a kung fu movie marathon and cook up beef Wellington with spinach frittata.
[whispers to the camera]
Honestly, the beans ’n’ franks and fire pit are just for show.
AS THE STUDENTS EXITED THE BUS, Trevor rushed ahead of everyone. Let’s just get the haunting over with, he thought.