Jenna let out a huff. “You’re making her sound like a snob. She probably likes the same things we do.”
“I’m with Jenna. I bet Tricia is really down-to-earth and nice,” Chelsea agreed.
Chelsea hoped she and Jenna were right. Just because Tricia was worldly and smart didn’t mean she wouldn’t be as sweet and friendly as she was in TV interviews. In fact, Chelsea had started to really look up to Tricia, especially after reading an interview she did in Gloss Magazine. Chelsea loved how Tricia seemed kind of glitzy like a supermodel, yet on the inside she was totally a normal girl. It turned out, Tricia never felt as if she had a real best friend. Chelsea could definitely relate to that, even if she would never admit it to the other girls. From that amazing interview alone, Chelsea could tell Tricia was a really great girl—one she would love to be true friends with.
“But what if she doesn’t like us?” Sarah asked.
“God, that would be horrible,” Brynn replied.
Chelsea felt a quick chill sprint up her spine. The thought of Tricia thinking she was a dork or something bothered her a lot. In all honesty, Chelsea saw how tight some of the other girls were, and she often wished she had someone who totally understood her. Chelsea knew she might be silly for thinking this, but she was starting to hope maybe Tricia could be that person.
“Guys, could you keep it down for a few minutes? I’m trying to get this essay finished.” Sloan was sprawled out on her bed, flat on her stomach, scribbling in a three-subject notebook.
“Give it a rest, Sloan! You’ve been working on that thing for hours. I’m sure it’s great,” Priya said as she rubbed some coconut-vanilla lotion onto her elbows.
Sloan didn’t take her eyes off her paper. “Thanks, Pree. But I just want to make sure it’s perfect.”
Chelsea shook her head. While the Green Festival did sound like it was going to be a great time, she didn’t really see it as something worth stressing over. Though she definitely appreciated some of the really cool changes at Camp Walla Walla, like how pretty she and her friends looked in the tents’ new soft lighting, courtesy of eco-friendly, low-watt bulbs.
Still, was any of that going to matter when Tricia came to camp? Chelsea didn’t think so.
“Well, I admire your dedication, Sloan,” Sarah said as she tuned down the music. “I thought about writing an essay, but isn’t camp supposed to be about fun, not homework?”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Chelsea chimed in. “I spent all year writing papers and taking tests.”
Priya pulled a sleeveless, cobalt blue top out of the clothing pile and put it on over her white tank. “I already wrote my essay. It only took me twenty minutes.”
Chelsea was about to poke fun at Priya’s work ethic when her eyes zoomed in on the shirt her bunkmate was wearing. Chelsea couldn’t believe her eyes—she’d seen it before. Tricia had worn the same shirt during the Oprah special! Who could forget that bejeweled neckline and the beautiful blue silk? Not Chelsea!
“Oh my God, Nat. Where did you get this?” Chelsea asked as Priya admired herself in a mirror. Chelsea had to bite her lip to keep from squealing like those frenzied girls from yesterday morning. If her bunkmates knew how much she idolized Tricia, they would definitely make fun of her.
When Natalie didn’t answer, Chelsea spun around and saw her friend sitting cross-legged on her bed, peering out the window at the pouring rain. Natalie had been moping around like this ever since yesterday’s orientation meeting. In the beginning she had seemed so excited about the festival and Tricia, but now it was like she was a total zombie.
“Hey, are you okay?” Chelsea forgot about her excitement over Tricia and the shirt and sat beside her friend, waiting for her to speak up.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Natalie finally answered in a weak voice.
Chelsea looked at Natalie skeptically. “I’m finding that a little hard to believe, Nat. You’ve been in such a weird mood lately.”
Before Natalie could answer, Sarah tapped Chelsea on the shoulder. “Time to brave the storm and run to the dining hall, campers.”
Chelsea glanced back at Natalie, who was still staring out the window. She looked like food was the last thing on her mind. “You guys go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.”
Everyone grabbed their rain ponchos and boots and scurried out of the tent in one big, squealing cluster. Everyone except for Chelsea and Natalie.
“The coast is clear. Now tell me what’s up,” Chelsea asked again. Normally she wasn’t this pushy when it came to her bunkmates, but she could tell that something was bothering Natalie, and Chelsea’s curiosity was getting the best of her.
Natalie turned to look at Chelsea, her lips curled into a pout. “It’s the essay.”
Geez, again with the essay? Why are Sloan and Nat even sweating this?
“What about it?”
“I tried to write one, like three or four times, but they were all terrible,” Natalie whimpered.
“I’m sure they weren’t that bad,” Chelsea said, trying to reassure her.
“Ugh, and I was so excited about being the leader of the festival committee. It would be such a great thing to add to my extracurricular record,” Natalie said as she pounded a fist into her pillow. “And then Dr. Steve had to turn it into a writing competition. I mean, since when does writing an essay have anything to do with planning a festival?”
“Well, maybe you should come up with an outline first and then write the essay based off that. I learned how to do it in English class this year and got an A on almost every paper,” Chelsea suggested.
“Really?” Natalie asked hopefully.
“Yup! So why don’t you start with an outline, and give this essay another shot?” Chelsea asked.
Natalie slouched her shoulders in defeat. “Because I won’t be able to get it done in time. The essay has to be turned in by tomorrow night, and I’m such a slow writer to begin with.”
Chelsea thought a moment, and then took a quick breath. She had the perfect solution! “Wait a sec. What if I wrote the essay for you?”
Natalie chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Um . . . I don’t know if I’m comfortable with cheating.”
“It won’t be cheating. I could interview you and then piece it all together, kind of like what a ghost-writer does,” Chelsea suggested.
“Huh. Maybe you’re right. But don’t ghost-writers usually get paid or something?” Natalie asked.
“Well,” Chelsea said, grinning. “You could always pay me with that blue shirt of yours. What do you think? Pleeeeeease?”
Natalie giggled. “Wow, Chelse, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you beg before. Why do you want the shirt so badly?”
Chelsea took a deep breath. A voice inside her head told her not to admit the truth—that she wanted the shirt to impress Tricia. Natalie would definitely think she was lame and immature, especially since her father was a gigantic movie star with tons of his own obsessed followers. But she couldn’t think of a cover fast enough.
“Promise not to laugh?” she asked hoping that the truth would at least earn her some leniency.
“Promise,” Natalie said.
Chelsea cleared her throat and said, “Well, that shirt . . . it’s the same one that Tricia wore in her Oprah interview.”
A smile crept across Natalie’s face. “Oh. Really?”
“Fine, go ahead and laugh,” Chelsea said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Chelse! I just didn’t know you were such a diehard fan. Plus, the way you were talking about this shirt made me think it was something much more serious,” Natalie said through a chuckle.
“Well, I am a diehard fan, and you can guess why I didn’t tell anybody until now,” Chelsea said, annoyed.
“I won’t say a word, I swear.” Natalie used her index finger to make an X over her heart.
“Good, and I won’t tell anyone about our little arrangement, either.”
“Okay, it’s a deal,” Natalie said, sticking her ha
nd out for Chelsea to shake. Once Chelsea grabbed hold of it, Natalie added, “Thanks, Chelse. I really hope this works.”
“Of course it’ll work,” Chelsea said confidently. “Just wait and see.”
Late that night, Chelsea and Natalie ducked out of their bunk and hid in the sports shack to work on Natalie’s essay. Chelsea typed away on her laptop computer while Natalie talked about her thoughts on the environment, and why she wanted to be chairperson of the Green Committee.
“I’m getting some really great stuff here, Nat. It’s a good thing I snuck my laptop into camp this year,” Chelsea said as she batted at the keyboard.
“True, but at least now we have access to a computer. One we didn’t have to sneak in, I mean,” Natalie joked.
“Can you imagine having to share one computer with a hundred other campers, though? No one will ever get more than a few minutes to use it. Having a computer is really helping this interview go a lot faster—I can’t imagine writing out all your answers by hand,” Chelsea replied.
“That’s true.” Natalie paused and peered over Chelsea’s shoulder to read what she had just written. “Hmm, I don’t know if I like the idea of talking about my dad in this essay.”
“What do you mean? I think that’s the most interesting thing about you.”
“Gee, thanks, Chelse!” Natalie spat.
“Don’t get all offended. I’m just saying, people want to read about that stuff.” Chelsea didn’t understand why Natalie was getting all upset. All she was trying to do was help Natalie get what she wanted.
“I’m sure they do. But the reason I want to be chairperson is so I can get into college on my own terms, not just because I’m Tad Maxwell’s daughter,” Natalie explained.
Chelsea was confused. Wasn’t college eons away?
“Nat, I think you worry too much about what other people think of you,” Chelsea said.
“Everyone does, even you, Chelse,” Natalie said firmly.
Chelsea knew Natalie had a point. Judging Natalie for being self-conscious was kind of hypocritical.
“Well, what if we include something in the essay that shows how your dad has used his celebrity for a good purpose,” Chelsea suggested. Perhaps Natalie would feel more comfortable with that.
“Oooh, I like it,” Natalie said, her mood instantly lifting.
“Can you think of anything that might be good?” Chelsea asked.
“Actually, I think so. It’s about my dad and the San Diego Zoo,” Natalie said.
“Wow, jackpot! People love animals just as much as they love movie stars,” Chelsea said, smiling.
“You crack me up, Chelse,” Natalie said. “Tricia is going to love your sense of humor.”
Chelsea smiled even more. “You really think so?”
“Most definitely.”
“Well, let’s get back to work. I’ve got a lot of notes to take and you still have to rewrite all this stuff by hand,” Chelsea said.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Natalie said, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
Chelsea was excited, too. This was going to be the best summer yet. She could feel it.
chapter THREE
On Tuesday morning, the rain had cleared, the sun was shining, and it was hot enough for relays in the lake. But Sloan had another activity in mind. Dressed in a purple tankini and a wrap tied around her waist, Sloan grabbed her three-subject notebook and a pencil out of her tote bag, then snuck off in search of a good place to work on her essay. She chose a huge oak tree close to the water so she would be in earshot if someone called for her turn.
Just a few more finishing touches and I’ll be done, Sloan thought as she sat down in the grass and opened up her notebook. All that was left to do was write a great closing line that would knock Dr. Steve’s socks off. Sloan was really pleased with what she’d written and felt as though she had a pretty good chance of winning the committee chairperson’s spot with it. Sloan had always been pro-environment, and she had grown up in an eco-friendly house, too. The Green Festival was so in line with her principles and interests, more than any other camp event in the past. She really wanted to be a part of it in a big way.
Sloan jerked her head up when she heard a big splash from the lake. She smiled when she spotted Natalie and Chelsea laughing hysterically during their leg of the relay. It looked like Chelsea had done one giant belly flop when she dove into the water after Natalie. Sloan was happy to see Natalie having a good time after being so bummed the day before. Sloan felt a twinge of guilt when she thought about how preoccupied she’d been—she hadn’t even asked Natalie what was wrong.
However, that wave of negativity subsided the moment a tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed boy stepped into view. Actually, the same brown-haired boy that she’d “yummed” over at orientation the other day.
“Shouldn’t you be dog-paddling with the rest of us?” the boy asked with an adorable smile.
Sloan blinked twice in disbelief. Is he actually talking to me?
“I’m just squeezing in a little study time between relays,” she replied.
The boy chuckled a bit. “It’s summer. Shouldn’t study time be over?”
Great move,Sloan. Now he thinks you’re a big freak!
“I’m just working on that essay—”
“For the Green Festival.” The boy finished Sloan’s sentence and sat down next to her. “We had an event like that at my old school in Alaska.”
“Whoa—you’re from Alaska?” Sloan said with surprise. She’d never met anyone from that far away before.
“I’m part Inuit, actually,” he said, pointing to his slightly almond-shaped eyes.
Sloan blushed when she stared into them deeply. “That’s really cool.”
“So, can I take a peek at your essay?” he asked.
Sloan’s heart filled with both excitement and dread. She was thrilled the adorable Alaskan boy was interested in her at all, but the thought of him going through her notebook made her uneasy. She also wasn’t used to boys being this forward, but who really cared? He was SO cute!
“Um, I feel kind of funny about showing my writing to you when I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Miles,” the boy said. “It’s nice to meet you, Sloan.”
Sloan’s breath caught in her throat. “Wait, how did you—”
“I saw you during orientation and I asked David who you were.” Miles grinned. “Does that make me a creep?”
“No, it’s cute,” Sloan said, laughing.
Miles’s cheeks flushed a little. “So now can I look at your essay? I promise I won’t tell anyone what it says.”
Sloan giggled. She liked how inquisitive and assertive Miles was.
“Sure,” Sloan said as she handed Miles her notebook. “It’s not finished, though. I still have to write a snappy closing line.”
Miles nodded his head and began reading right away. Sloan could feel her stomach churning with anxiety. She thought her essay was great, but she’d never intended to have anyone read it but Dr. Steve, and maybe Jasmine.
Miles closed Sloan’s notebook when he was finished reading and handed it back to her. “So, where are you from?”
Sloan gave Miles a bewildered look. Didn’t he have anything to say about her essay? “Um . . . Arizona.”
“Cool. I’ve been there. I really like it,” Miles said.
“Uh . . . that’s nice,” Sloan replied. “What did you think of my essay?”
Miles pulled up some grass from the roots and sprinkled it in front of his feet. “It was . . . okay.”
Okay?!Sloan thought. It was better than okay, wasn’t it?!
“Don’t you think that’s a little vague?” Sloan asked.
“I’m sorry,” Miles muttered. “Never mind. It was good.”
“No, tell me what you were going to say,” Sloan insisted. “I can take it.”
“Well . . . um . . . I just thought that it was a little . . .”
“What?”
“Um . . . you just d
on’t seem so excited is all,” Miles said through a cough. “I’m sorry, Sloan. All your facts are great, but I don’t get the feeling from reading the essay that you’re so into it.”
Sloan’s face went speeding-comet hot.
Adorable or not, Sloan was no longer happy about sharing Miles’s company.
“I think I hear my counselor Ellie calling me, so I’d better go.” Sloan got up abruptly and tucked her notebook under her arm.
The smile on Miles’s face vanished as he stood up and shoved his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks. Obviously he knew that his remarks had hurt Sloan’s feelings.
“Okay,” he murmured, his eyes cast down at the ground.
“See ya,” Sloan mumbled, trying hard not to cry as she made her way back to her friends.
The next day, Sloan and the rest of Camp Walla Walla gathered together for a picnic lunch at the main promenade, where Dr. Steve was going to announce the Green Festival committee chairperson. Sloan solemnly pushed her free-range chicken salad around on her recycled paper plate and prepared herself for the worst. Even though in the end she was so confident in her writing that she’d turned in her essay without making any changes to it, she couldn’t get Miles’s “not so exciting” comment out of her head.
“Are you feeling sick or something?” Chelsea asked. “You haven’t touched any of your food.”
“I guess I’m just not hungry,” Sloan mumbled.
“Aha,” Brynn said with a mischievous smirk. “Then the prognosis is lovesickness.”
Sloan was not amused. Teasing from her friends was not what she needed right now. “Stop it, guys. I’m not in the mood.”
“But are you in the mood for loooove?” Jenna cooed.
“I mean it, Jenna,” Sloan said sharply.
“Don’t get mad, Sloan,” Priya said. “We just couldn’t help but notice you and that new guy chatting it up yesterday by the lake. You guys looked rather cozy.”
“Oh. Him,” Sloan said flatly.
“What’s his story, Sloan? We’re dying to know,” Joanna said after taking a sip of organic root beer.
Politically Incorrect Page 2