by Annie Bryant
“Challenges? Why doesn’t she just say fighting off bears and snakes and bugs and killer mosquitoes?” Pushing away her lunch, Maeve looked pale and sick to her stomach. Charlotte didn’t know whether to worry about Maeve or just laugh at her.
As soon as Mrs. Fields left the cafeteria, the buzz began.
“I heard we might have canoe races.” Avery took a big bite of her turkey sandwich. Suddenly, a stream of green slime oozed onto her sleeve. “That’s so gross, Avery,” snapped Maeve as she put her head into her hands.
“Sooorry. I think the avocado was a little overripe.” Avery wiped her sleeve off with her napkin. Charlotte marveled at Avery’s nonchalance. Nothing fazed that girl…not even green avocado slime.
“Both my sisters bought hiking boots for this trip.” Katani leaned on her fist. “But neither of them ever wore them again. The Summers girls aren’t too keen on the big outdoors.”
“This trip sounds kind of expensive.” Isabel sounded worried. “What size are your sisters’ boots?”
Charlotte empathized with Isabel, whose mother’s treatment for multiple sclerosis sometimes made it difficult to afford everything.
Dillon Johnson, Henry Yurt, and Nick Montoya stopped at the BSG table on their way to return their trays. Nick caught Charlotte looking at him and smiled. Suddenly, the macaroni and cheese flip-flopped in her stomach. Nick really was so cute.
“Is anyone afraid of ghosts?” Dillon Johnson asked mildly, like the idea of a ghost didn’t bother him at all. “My brother says there’s a ghost that makes the camp his hangout.”
Maeve looked up at Dillon. “Are you offering to protect us from all the evil, nasty spirits that rise up from the deep, murky, fog-covered lagoon?”
“Uh-oh. Here we go again.” Katani rolled her eyes. “What ancient horror movie is that from?” she asked.
“It’s from my own personal private collection—the Maeve Kaplan-Taylor collection of horror movies that will scare the pants off of you,” Maeve answered haughtily as she flipped her red curls over her shoulder.
“Whatever—ghosts, bears, mountain lions. Us he-men will be there to protect any scared-out-of-their-wits girls,” pronounced Henry Yurt. Affectionately called the Yurtmeister by most of his classmates, Henry flexed his nonexistent arm muscle.
Avery made a face. “We’ll see who needs help first, Yurt. I can’t exactly see you winning any rope climbing contests, Mr. President.”
Charlotte didn’t need a crystal ball to see that working in teams with the boys was going to be a real challenge. Boys could be so incredibly ridiculous about how strong they were.
“Too bad Mrs. Fields didn’t remind everyone about Pajama Day being the Friday before we leave on the trip,” said Henry. Pajama Day was one of his favorite campaign promises and, to everyone’s surprise, the Yurtmeister had managed to secure permission from Mrs. Fields for it to happen.
“Do you have Buzz Lightyear pjs, Yurt?” Katani smiled.
“No, teddy bears,” Henry answered with true Yurt aplomb.
Isabel tugged at Katani’s arm. “Let’s go see if we can trade library for art, Katani. I feel an idea coming on.”
“Can I come with you?” Maeve asked.
Charlotte picked up her tray. “Isabel, how about your cartoon?”
“I’m working on it. Hope you’ll like it.”
“I know I will.” Charlotte hurried to The Sentinel office to do some more work on her article. The trip and supply list weren’t any trouble, but she did want to add a couple of sentences to her feature article.
All five BSG skidded into science class just before the last bell rang.
Ms. Weston, the new student teacher, frowned at them, but Charlotte didn’t think she could look fierce if she tried. The teacher was petite, with blond hair and such electric blue eyes that Charlotte wondered if she wore contacts.
Maeve thought Ms. Weston should be singing lead in a band rather than standing in front of a room full of obnoxious seventh graders who were wondering what tricks they could play on her. Isabel and Katani thought she was a really cool dresser because one day, Ms. Weston came to school wearing a peasant skirt, cowboy boots, and a really pretty silk shirt.
“Looks can be deceiving” was more than a cliché when Ms. Weston spoke. She really knew her science, and had a way of commanding the attention of the whole class. Today she had done her homework on the class trip. “New Hampshire is a fascinating state. Did you know that its residents cast the decisive vote in ratifying the constitution? Also, the first presidential primary is held there each election year, at midnight in Dixville Notch.”
“Do we get to vote on whether or not to go there?” Sammy quipped.
“You do not.” Ms. Weston smiled. “The state is known as one of our great outdoor states. There are dozens of lakes and forests, some of which are filled with hiking trails that go all the way to the summits of the White Mountains.”
“Can we take cameras?” Chelsea Briggs surprised everyone with her question. Usually dressed in a baggy Patriots sweatshirt, and always sitting in the back of the room, Chelsea hardly ever spoke up in class. Some of the kids still called her Chelsea Bigg, a nickname from third grade. However, Ms. R recently gave a boy detention when she overheard him say it. Mostly, kids just tended to ignore her. It was almost as if she were invisible—which was odd, because Chelsea was so large. Charlotte wondered how she felt sitting in the back of the class all the time…quiet and alone.
“Certainly, Chelsea. I know a camera is on the supply list as ‘nice to have.’” Ms. Weston paused for more questions.
“I read that the New Hampshire state motto is ‘Live free or die,’” Betsy Fitzgerald interjected. The class rolled their eyes. Leave it to Betsy to have already read up on New Hampshire. She could probably be giving this lecture.
“I really don’t like mentioning the word ‘die’ along with camping and climbing mountains,” Maeve said.
“Well, you may not have that much freedom on the trip either,” Ms. Weston said. “But that motto also has to do with New Hampshire’s history. Maybe you students would like to know that New Hampshire was the first state to have a female governor, senate president, and house speaker all at the same time.”
Avery shot her fist into the air. “Oh, yeah! Just my kind of state. Sounds like New Hampshire has really enlightened voters!”
Ms. Weston smiled. Avery was one of the outspoken students and she enjoyed the energetic twelve-year-old’s opinions. “I could stand here and talk all day, but instead, I’ve found a really great movie for you to see about the state.”
“Movie time. Oh, yeah!” Dillon clapped really loudly. Ms. Weston was turning out to be one of the best student teachers at Abigail Adams. She never let the class get boring.
“And you, Mr. Johnson, have the privilege of sitting by me for the whole film. Did you bring popcorn?”
Everyone laughed and jabbed at Dillon as they lined up to head to the auditorium. Maeve made sure she was beside him in line. Dillon had forgiven Maeve for a disastrous date they’d had, but for some reason, he hadn’t asked for another. If Charlotte could think of one reason for Maeve to change her mind about the trip, it would be the promise of spending the week with Dillon. Although recently, Maeve had also become good friends with Riley. The musician of the class, Riley had started his own rock band with some other seventh graders, and Maeve sometimes joined them as lead singer. Maeve had told the BSG that she and Riley had a lot in common, even if Riley was a little too serious sometimes.
“He likes to talk about life and stuff,” she had explained to Charlotte.
“What’s wrong with that?” Charlotte wanted to know.
“Well, nothing really, I guess,” Maeve had answered. “It’s just that I am too busy to talk about my life. I’d rather dance,” she laughed, executing a perfect dance move. Avery had tried to mimic her but failed so completely that all the BSG cracked up.
After walking down the hall for a few minutes, Charlotte
looked at Isabel and giggled. They seemed to be walking in circles.
The class got quieter and quieter. Even Dillon said nothing. Nick shrugged his shoulders at Charlotte, but kept his mouth shut. The Yurtmeister just shook his head.
Finally, after they’d passed the cafeteria for the second time, Charlotte could see a puzzled look on Ms. Weston’s face. Then Katani, Ms. Take Charge, took pity on the student teacher.
“Ms. Weston,” she whispered, “Do you plan to lead any of the hikes at the camp?”
“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“Well, for one thing, we’re in the wrong wing for the auditorium. Would you like me to show you where it is?”
Ms. Weston took a deep breath, her face suddenly matching her pink suede top. “I’d appreciate that, Katani. I was just beginning to realize I’d gotten turned around. I’m not the best with directions. Especially when I’m new to a place.”
Turned around? Avery turned to the rest of the BSG and mouthed the word: LOST!
Katani took the lead and marched the class back to the auditorium. As everyone settled into their seats, Avery whispered, “I hope I’m not on Weston’s team. She might be a science whiz, but she is seriously directionally challenged.”
“We’ll end up deep in the dark woods and have to sleep on the ground until morning.” Charlotte giggled.
“Maybe on some deserted island where we can practice our survivor skills,” said Nick as he slid in beside Charlotte to watch the movie. Even though they had never been on a real date, Charlotte sometimes wondered what it would be like to go out with him. She thought that being stranded on a deserted island with Nick Montoya might be fun.
Charlotte Ramsey, she scolded herself, come back to earth right this minute!
The travel movie made New Hampshire look as beautiful and fascinating as any place Charlotte had ever been, and that took some doing since she had seen some pretty exciting places. She wondered whether each of the fifty states in the United States had such beautiful scenery. Maybe she could set a goal of exploring every state in her lifetime.
Charlotte dreamed of becoming a writer, maybe even a travel writer, like her dad. But she sometimes wondered whether there would be room in travel books for characters who did klutzy or unexpected things. What if she went to Zambia and offended a king or something, wondered Charlotte. But then she thought about Ms. Weston, who was kind of klutzy in her own way. Maybe Charlotte could set a goal of writing a book about each state. Fifty books! She wondered, could she ever in a million years write fifty books?
Nick poked her arm. Everyone was standing. Charlotte jumped up, and in a single graceful move, managed to spill her books all over the floor and bump heads with Nick as they both bent to pick up her books. Charlotte closed her eyes and groaned.
Score another point for “Charlotte the Klutz.” The only book she had any chance of writing was Fifty Ways to Make a Fool of Yourself in Front of a Guy You Like.
CHAPTER 3
Fitness Training
No one got out of gym class at Abigail Adams Junior High
School…ever. “It’s because of some kind of ancient rule made up by some mean principal, who said ‘gym class could never be missed, even if you were dying of smallpox and you had a broken foot,’” said Maeve.
Betsy Fitzgerald overheard them. “Actually, it was President John F. Kennedy who made gym classes mandatory,” she pronounced in a very official voice. “Gym is supposed to help keep kids healthy.”
“Oh,” shrugged Maeve. She wasn’t going to argue with Betsy. Most people didn’t. Betsy knew too much.
The BSG were quiet as they changed clothes in the locker room.
As she bent to tie her shoes, Charlotte announced, “My goal for the next hour is not to make a fool of myself in front of the whole class.”
“I wish the whole world was watching.” Avery tugged on her cross trainers. “Maybe I’d get an offer to play on a world class soccer team, or at least a scholarship to play in college.”
“Maybe I’ll get an offer to play a role like the Perils of Pauline.” Maeve sighed.
“Perils of Pauline?” Katani said, her hands on her hips. “That’s a new one to me.”
Maeve reminded them of the silent movie film classic at the Movie House. “Pauline was always tied to the railroad tracks and some handsome guy had to rescue her.”
“Oh, oh, save me please. I’m just a helpless girl.” Avery waved her hands back and forth in front of her face and squeaked out her plea for help. “How pathetic.”
Maeve, being Maeve, refused to take offense and instead pumped up her arms and lowered her voice. “I will save you if you are the wealthy heir to the Madden fortune, and you will promise to marry me and sign over all your rights to the money. But if you’re not, forget it.”
Pushing and giggling, they stumbled into the gym. Coach McCarthy clapped his hands immediately. “All right, campers in training, start with a warmup mile around the gym. I’ll time you. Pick up the pace, Kaplan-Taylor.” Maeve could dance for hours, but running was not her thing. “Most dancers,” her instructor told her, “save their knees for the dance.” The truth was, Maeve just didn’t like to run.
“Just wait until you’re a famous actress in Hollywood, Maeve,” Avery whispered. She held up a make-believe microphone. “I’d like to thank my junior high gym teacher for making me angry enough to succeed.” Avery took off jogging, catching up to Charlotte.
“Why does he keep picking on her?” Charlotte whispered. “Just because she isn’t a fast runner…I think it’s mean. He doesn’t even care that she is probably the best dancer in the school.”
Nick jogged up behind them. “Race you, Madden.”
“Beating you isn’t satisfying enough. I’m saving myself for a higher goal in life, Montoya.” Avery left Nick jogging beside Charlotte. Charlotte couldn’t talk and run really fast at the same time. But it was great having Nick beside her to help her keep up her pace.
Katani was turning out to be a pretty decent runner. She was running just behind the Trentini twins by the end of the mile.
The BSG caught their breath while Maeve finished her last lap. She had started out okay, but kept falling behind. “You know, Coach McCarthy, this would be so much more fun if we had music. And I think we’d train better, don’t you?” She flashed him a megawatt smile, hoping her enthusiasm would encourage him to agree.
“Yeah, music. Sure. Okay, Kaplan. Go find some.” Suddenly, everyone had suggestions. Billy Trentini voted for reggae. Yurt wanted Aerosmith. “Some sixties rock and roll,” Riley Lee suggested. “It’s got a good beat for running. I’ll go to the music room. I know just what we need. I’ll be back before you all can say New Hampshire.” Billy Trentini rolled his eyes at Riley’s awkward attempt at humor. Musical—Riley was. Funny—he wasn’t.
Riley took off before Mr. McCarthy could say no. The coach shrugged and handed out jump ropes.
Charlotte groaned. She could jog, but if there was anything to trip her up, jumping roping was it. It required a rhythm she hadn’t quite mastered yet. She’d be down more often than not. “Let’s do some double dutch,” she suggested. “I’ll turn one end.”
“I’ll get the other.” Katani grabbed the ends of two long ropes. She and Charlotte started swinging. The ropes hit the floor in a beat that made Katani tap her foot. Maybe she wasn’t athletic, but Katani got the tapping down. Charlotte tried the tapping, but she felt like a dork. She couldn’t seem to coordinate her arms and her feet at the same time. The whole thing was a jumble. It’s a good thing I can kick a soccer ball, sighed Charlotte.
True to his promise, Riley was back and had a disc in the CD player in minutes.
When “La Bamba” came blasting through the gym, Charlotte wasn’t surprised. She’d just edited Riley’s column for the newspaper. He’d written about Ritchie Valens, one of the first Hispanic rock and rollers, and his short, tragic life.
Riley was an interesting person, Isabel thought. He likes t
o experiment just like me. Maybe that’s the way artists are.
Even though most of the kids didn’t know who Ritchie Valens was, everyone picked up the pace to match the music. Charlotte was swinging ropes, dancing in place, actually having fun, and when it came time for her to jump, the music seemed to help. She actually made it through her turn without tripping–a first. She felt elated.
“Okay, ropes away,” Mr. McCarthy shouted. “Up the bleacher stairs, across the top, back down the other side. Three times. Go, go, go!”
Maeve glanced over at Isabel and Katani. Running up and down the bleachers was not anyone’s idea of a good time, except for a few die-hard athletes like Avery. Maeve wished they could go jump over the hurdles. That was fun. Even eager beaver Betsy Fitzgerald didn’t look happy about the stairs.
Avery and Billy Trentini took off like they were being chased by wild dogs. Bolting up the stairs two at a time, the two of them reached the top simultaneously and were on their way down before Maeve was even on the third step. Music or no music, sighed Maeve, this was going to be one long gym period. She would just have to think of other things like dancing in a beautiful ball gown under the stars with a famous movie star. That was more like it, she fantasized, and was surprised to find herself suddenly on the way down.
Next, Coach McCarthy organized sprints. How Avery had energy left after the stairs was more than Charlotte could fathom. Everyone else, except for Billy Trentini, was panting for air. And sprints were killer races. You had to bolt like a racehorse and run as fast as you could ‘til it felt like your lungs were exploding. It seemed to Maeve that the coach was trying to kill them before they even left on the trip. He assured them that this was getting them in shape, but it seemed more like getting ready for Marine boot camp.
Maeve thought it was really strange that she could dance for a couple hours, sweat like a popsicle in the sun, and not be out of breath. Yet, running a sprint made her feel like her lungs were burning up. She guessed it was like her dad always said, “Different strokes for different folks.”