by Robin Mellom
Libby noticed her, too, standing there looking even sadder than before. She knew this wasn’t regular Bored Molly behavior. Something told her that this was much more. And even though Libby really wanted Trevor’s help to get the social going again, she had a feeling that it wasn’t as important as whatever Molly needed. “I’ll see you inside.” Libby nudged him toward Molly, then headed off to the dining hall.
“Wait, Libby!” he called after her. “You know that pro-con chart?”
She smirked. “Yeah?”
“I found out there are a lot more pros. Just thought you should know that.”
Libby glanced over at Corey, who was slicking back his hair with his fingers. “Thanks, Trev. I was hoping so.” She turned and joined the rest of the kids inside.
Trevor lingered on the trail and cautiously approached Molly. She was staring down at her boots.
He bent over and looked up at her. “You getting a neck ache yet? Stop looking down here.”
Without hesitation, she smothered him with a hug. Then she stepped back and adjusted her hoodie. “We need to talk, Trev.”
She called him Trev.
He wished that was a good sign. But something told him it was the worst kind of sign. He pointed to a log where they could sit down.
She hadn’t even said a word, and his heart already felt like it was breaking.
“Sooooo, what is it that you wanted to tell me?” He really had no idea what this was going to be about, but his organs told him it wouldn’t be good.
A part of him—a tiny/huge part—hoped that she would say she had a crush on him. And then another part of him—a tiny/huge part—didn’t want her to say that.
Their friendship was just moving from pretty good to pretty great. What if a crush ruined all that?
Molly fidgeted with her sleeve. “I need to tell you why I’ve been so bummed out on this trip—more than usual. It has to do with my dad.”
His face dropped. This “talk” had nothing to do with the word crush at all.
But then she unloaded the truth. And suddenly everything seemed related.
“My dad got a promotion. They think he’s done a good job at Westside, so they’re sending him to a bigger middle school to become the principal.” She looked away from him and said in a soft voice, “We’re moving. After the end of this week, I won’t see you again.”
A lump formed in his throat. He tried to respond, to say something—anything. But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t say a word.
I can’t believe this. SHE’S MOVING?!
I just lied to Miss Plimp to make sure he DIDN’T get transferred!
No. No, no, no. There has to be a way to fix this.
Everyone knows that the incident from last year caused Corey’s brother to get in trouble, and there was a scathing newspaper article written about it. So the fact that two students got lost in the woods while on a school field trip would cause ALL sorts of bad press. So that means Vice Principal Decker would get disciplined by the school board. There is no way he’d still get that promotion!
I’m sure Molly doesn’t want to move. This is the first time she’s ever made a friend at a school. It’s not fair that she has to leave. I can fix this.
I just have to find the guts to do it.
There’s one thing that didn’t match up with Trevor’s story. Does he realize I know he was telling a lie? I’ve known the guy for almost my entire life…of course I’m able to smell a lie from him. Not that I’ve had that much practice smelling his lies—which is a super weird thing to say.
My point is, I wonder what REALLY happened with Trevor and Corey in the woods. Because it certainly didn’t happen the way Trevor explained. He ALWAYS eats Raspberry Zingers. Blueberry flavoring makes him feel seasick.
[lifts a brow]
The Sherlock Holmes in me wants answers.
MARTY AND CINDY RUSHED BACK to Cindy’s cabin to feed little Lucy a fancy dinner. With all the commotion going on in the dining hall with that wild animal and sprinkler problem, Cindy figured they’d have time to sneak away without being noticed.
“I’m sorry this isn’t a true wilderness rescue,” Cindy said. “It would’ve been a blast to find Corey and Trevor!”
Marty scratched his bald head. “Honestly, I’m more excited that Trevor had the guts to find his way back. He’s pretty epic.”
Cindy smiled. “Now let’s get Lucy some dinner. I’m a little worried about her. She’s rejecting all my attempts to fancy up her bed. She has pushed away all my ribbons. We need to talk some sense into her.”
They searched outside the cabin. They looked on all sides. Under the stairs. Up the trees. But Lucy was nowhere to be found.
Cindy checked inside. She peeked under her bed. She looked under the covers. She opened drawers. But there was still no kitty in sight.
“Where is she?!” Cindy was frantic, worried that her poor kitty might be hungry and lost and tragically without a sweater.
“Let’s be calm about this,” Marty said. “I’m sure she didn’t get far.”
And that’s when they heard the horrifying shrieks.
They ran out the front door and looked down toward the dining hall. Standing tall was Skeely, holding up a mangy creature drenched in water. But both Marty and Cindy knew that was no regular mangy creature in his hands.
“Lucy!” Cindy shrieked. Her white hair dye hadn’t come out, even from all that water from the sprinkler.
Cindy gripped Marty’s arm. “Why did she go down there?”
Marty thought this over for a moment, then slapped his forehead. “There was a bowl of Fancy Cheese Nips on the table. She found the one fancy food in this camp.”
“She hunted down fancy food? Do you know what this means?!” Cindy bounced up and down. “She still has some fancy in her! WE HAVE TO SAVE HER!”
The two of them took off in a sprint toward Skeely.
On the outside deck, Skeely lifted the creature high for all to see.
“It’s okay, no need to panic,” Skeely said. “I will take care of this.”
Cindy rushed up to him, breathless. “That is NOT a skunk! It’s my kitty…Lucy!” She grabbed Lucy from his arms and pulled her in close.
“Meow!”
Lucy snuggled up under Cindy’s chin.
The crowd awww-ed.
Skeely held up a hand. “We can’t have an outside animal brought onto the premises. I’ll have to confiscate her.”
“No, please!” Cindy yelped, tears filling her eyes.
Sensing some drama, Libby rushed up to them. “A kitty! How cute!”
Cindy grabbed Libby by the shoulders. “Help, Libby! He’s going to computate her! She won’t be cute without a head!!”
“He said confiscate—but don’t worry, she won’t be taken away, and she won’t lose her head,” Libby reassured her.
Savannah Maxwell strolled up to them. “This is all going well for you, Libby. I dared you to come up with a better party, and this was the best you could do? Sad.” Savannah then turned to Cindy. “You. You never decorated my bed!”
Cindy bit her lip. “This isn’t exactly a good time to discuss this. We are having a pet emergency. And also a party emergency.”
“Wait,” Libby said. “I have an idea.”
Savannah crossed her arms. “That’s surprising, honestly.”
Libby walked over to Skeely and said, “Remember how you wanted to get the kids to follow your directions more?”
He nodded suspiciously.
“Well, letting us all keep Lucy here as a camp mascot would be the nicest thing you could do.”
“You really think it will help them go through the line correctly for breakfast tomorrow?”
Libby crossed her arms and said with confidence, “Absolutely. And I have an idea that will turn this social around.”
He nodded. “A camp mascot is something we could use.”
She rushed back over to Cindy and said, “I need your help. Can I take Lucy with
me inside to the party?”
“But she does only fancy things. Well, and wild things. She’s super complicated now.”
Savannah stepped up. “Don’t help her, Cindy. I’m your mentor. My instinct tells me you’ll be the class president next year.”
“Please, Cindy,” Libby pleaded. “We need all the decorations from your cabin. Go grab them and meet me back here!”
“No. No way,” Savannah said. “Those were supposed to be for my bed.”
Cindy marched right up under Savannah’s nose and said, “Guess what? No way. All you want is for other people to do stuff for you. That doesn’t make you a good class president. It makes you totally annoying.”
Savannah rolled her eyes. “But Libby’s not a better president.”
Cindy stuck a finger in her face. “Better? Libby’s the best. You have no idea how much time this girl puts into planning events. You’ll never be in Libby’s league.”
Unable to think of a comeback, Savannah opted for storming off in a huff.
Cindy high-fived Libby, then took off toward the cabin and yelled back over her shoulder, “I’ll grab all the decorations. I like the way you think, Libby Gardner!”
Within a few minutes, the girls had prepared a limbo game, with a twist. When trying to figure out where her social had gone wrong, Libby realized that she might not be the best at planning ahead, but she was awesome at thinking on her feet.
Libby hopped up on a chair and announced, “Okay, Westside Middle School, it’s time for our first annual game of the Skunk Shimmy!”
They all looked over to find the limbo bar now covered in fancy bows and glitter and Lucy the skunk proudly standing on top. They all scrambled quickly to get in line.
There was smiling.
And laughter.
And most importantly, there was no more boredom.
Everyone was finally having a good time. This party has been saved, she thought.
It was then that Molly and Trevor came straggling in. Libby ran over to them and hugged Trevor tightly. After a moment, she stepped back and clamped down on his shoulders, giving him a stern look. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to Molly. “I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling you deserve a hug, too. Consider this a warning that I’m about to hug you, so don’t get startled and possibly hurt me. Okay? So…here I go…I’m going to give you a hug, Molly. Ready?”
Remarkably, Molly didn’t recoil. She didn’t even flinch. What she did do was unbelievable. She grabbed Trevor and Libby and hugged them both. Together in a giant bear hug. Then she stepped back and said softly, “I’m glad you two have each other for best friends. Truly. I’m…happy for you.” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes.
So Molly sprinted. She sprinted past them, out the door, and up to her cabin, and then she threw herself on her bed and buried her head in her pillow.
And that’s where she cried and then cried some more.
She cried like she never had before.
LATER IN THE EVENING, LIBBY spotted Trevor sitting all alone at a table.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He didn’t, actually. He wanted to solve the problem—face it head-on and fix it. But strangely, it wasn’t as easy as surviving a bear encounter.
Instead he looked around the room, noticing what a great job Libby had done with the party. “The Skunk Shimmy was a brilliant idea, Lib.”
She smiled. “Can I tell you something?”
Uh-oh. He really didn’t want any other friend “telling him something” tonight. Or ever again, actually.
“You know that Pop Psychology quiz I’ve been using with all the questions about relationship compatibility?”
“The cutting-in-line and spaghetti sauce and toothpaste questions, sure.”
“Corey failed all those what-if questions,” she said. “But he passed the real-life test.”
Trevor raised a brow. “Care to explain?”
“While you were talking to Molly about whatever it is that you won’t tell me, I casually strolled up to Corey and told him I found a plot hole in your story—some things just didn’t add up.”
Trevor had had a feeling Libby might see through his story. “A plot hole? I know of no such thing.” He stuck his nose in the air.
Libby suddenly turned on her Sherlock Holmes persona. And Trevor became the not-so-smart villain who often stuck his nose in the air.
Libby stuck a straw in her mouth and pretended it was Sherlock’s pipe as she paced around him. “The bridge, Mr. Jones. Was that not the exact bridge we tried to cross on the first day of the trip?”
“It was.”
“And isn’t it true that the bridge in question was the one that all the students fell from due to its ricketyness?”
Trevor held back a smile. He always liked it when Libby cross-examined him with a fake pipe. “Indeed, I believe you are correct.”
She whirled around and pointed at his jeans. “Then how did you and Corey cross said rickety bridge without getting a single drop of water on you?”
Trevor snapped his fingers. “Curses! Foiled again!” Then he added, “But we didn’t actually cross the bridge, Lib. I found the easy way across. I may have found some confidence, but I’m not stupid.”
She sat down next to Trevor and bumped shoulders with him. “Corey said you guys got lost. He said it was YOU who faced a bear head-on. It was YOU who located the river. And it was YOU who figured out how to get to the spot where it was easy to cross. You were a hero.” She sighed a proud sigh. “My best friend, Trevor Jones, faced his fears head-on. It’s a big day for me.”
Trevor cleared his throat. “Look, I could say it was a big deal, but really…no, wait. It was a HUGE deal. I had no idea I had that in me! Honestly, you were right, Lib. I didn’t need to be scared to go on this trip. Apparently, I can handle a lot more than I think.”
Libby stuck a finger in the air. “By George, I think he’s got it!”
“Sherlock didn’t actually say that.”
“I know, but ‘Elementary, my dear Watson’ didn’t quite fit there. And technically Sherlock never said that line either, but I still like it.”
Trevor smiled. “About this thing with Corey,” he leaned over and whispered. “It’s your call, Lib. Always was.”
It was on his way back to his cabin that Trevor heard it—the sound of Molly talking to her dad.
He hid alongside the cabin and listened.
“I’m not mad at you, Dad. I was upset about moving. I can’t believe I won’t see Trevor anymore.”
“I’m sure you two can find a way to talk and keep in touch,” Decker said.
“He has Libby. What does he need me for?” There was a muffled sound as Molly blew her nose, possibly into Decker’s sleeve. When she stopped blowing, he was able to make out her final words. “You’re gonna make a great principal, Dad. So if we have to move to make that happen, I’m cool with that. I have my Soul Bear—I don’t need anything else.”
Peeking around the cabin, Trevor caught a glimpse of them walking down the dark path with Decker’s arm around Molly’s shoulder.
It hit Trevor, right then and there, that there was no way he could tell the truth to keep Decker from getting that job. Decker had done a good job as vice principal and Molly was proud of him. How could he stand in the way of that?
And all of a sudden, he felt better.
He had an idea.
Last night was a long night. I kept waking up, thinking I heard the students’ voices.
So I ended up pacing the halls late into the night trying to get back to sleep, but honestly, I just ended up counting the minutes until they got back.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but all this ME TIME has been awful. I miss their laughter and their trash, and I even miss their locker jammings. There’s just something about this group of kids…they’re special. I miss the little rascals.
So if you’
ll excuse me, I have to do some prep work for their arrival. I think this will be my favorite part of the entire week.
THE BUS RIDE BACK TO Westside Middle School was much more quiet than the ride to Whispering Pines several days before. The quietness was almost downright bizarre. It was the end of the day—there were no more classes at school. This was a good thing since the students were tired and worn out. And many were anxious to find a video game—any video game.
Trevor pressed his head against the bus window and peered out. As the bus pulled in, he saw there were hundreds of parents anxiously waiting for their return.
But there was only one person standing on the curb holding his own homemade sign high above his head.
Wilson.
The students spilled out of the bus and quickly loaded up their parents with backpacks and pillows. Trevor saw his mom grinning at him from the far side of the group. In her hand was a bag of Raspberry Zingers, his favorite. He smiled back at her, grateful that his mom always seemed to know exactly what made him happy to be home.
He lifted a finger signaling that he’d be there in a moment, then pushed through the groups of exhausted students and made his way up to Wilson. “Nice sign.”
Wilson folded the sign neatly. “It’s strange, Trevor. I thought I was going to love three days away from you kids. But I didn’t. I hated it.”
Trevor smiled. “You know what else is strange? I thought I was going to hate spending three days in the woods. But I didn’t. I loved it.” And he had. He realized what Miss Plimp had told him earlier was true. You should trust the process.
Before he walked off, Trevor said to Wilson, “You know, my only regret is that I never got a chance to use that floor buffer of yours.”
He patted Trevor on the back. “There’s always next year.”
“Yep. Next year.”
Wilson then handed him the sign he’d made. “Keep it,” he said with a wink, then walked on with a calm, cool swagger.