by Mary Hershey
He squatted down in front of me. “Absolutely.” He reached across and shook my hand. “And from now on, whenever I have a new group of campers, I’ll make sure no one feels embarrassed about not knowing how to swim. I’m sorry that the way I asked in Ms. Hawkins’s class that day made you feel like you couldn’t admit it.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Bucko. I know Ms. Hawkins makes you a little nervous.”
He laughed. “You noticed, huh?”
I nodded. “You should ask her for a date. I bet she’ll even show you her new dead snake.”
“I’ll tell you what. If you can swim from here,” he said, pointing to the dock, “to that rope there by Saturday when you leave, I’ll ask her to have dinner with me.”
“You will?” I bit my lip in excitement and I measured the distance from the dock to the rope. “Do you think I’ll be able to do it, Mr. Bucko?”
“I dunno. Depends how badly you want to play matchmaker,” he said, smiling. “I’ll give you three lessons. One right now—well, I’ll give you ten minutes to suit up—one tomorrow with Chica, and one Saturday morning.”
“Five minutes!” I yelled as I ran off the dock toward my cabin.
Matchmaker! I’d never matched anyone in my whole life. Maybe that could be my new talent!
• • •
Chica and I were near zombies at Thursday night campfire. Between tearing through the brush running for help that afternoon and my late-afternoon swim lesson, I was plumb wore out. Mr. Jimenez played his guitar until Chica fell asleep sitting between his knees. He picked her up and carried her home. She was going to be so disappointed that she missed Cowgirl Stew. She had told me earlier it’s her very favorite. I would save her some.
I was not disappointed to be missing the moonlight canoe ride after campfire. Even if I could have gone, I’d probably have fallen asleep in the middle of it. Cricket was going to stay back with me since I was grounded from it, and Kayla wouldn’t be going because of her accident.
On our packing list for camp, Sister had told us to each bring one canned food item. Cricket had us all bring our cans to campfire. Missy brought Kayla’s can because Kayla was still at the hospital getting her ankle put in a cast. Ms. Marshall was staying with her because Kayla’s parents couldn’t come until the next day. They were in Aspen on a business trip. I heard Missy tell Drew that Kayla’s parents traveled a lot, and Kayla saw her housekeeper more than she saw her own mother. I know it was gossip, and I shouldn’t have listened. But it helped me understand a little why Kayla might be so mean all the time. I know when Mom travels too much with her basketball team, Maxey and I get pretty cranky.
Sister and Phil were busy taking all the lids off the cans. I think we all noticed at the same time there was only one pot on the grill.
“You’re not going to—” Mary Peters said.
“All together?” I gasped.
“That’s right!” Sister said.
“In the same pot?” Becca asked, worried.
“Yup.”
“You’re gonna mix them?” Mary Paul asked.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Did anyone ever, you know—” Georgia stopped. “Well, sick up from it?”
“Not on my watch,” Sister said.
Sissy shuddered. “It’s scary, Sister.”
“No,” she said with a grin, “it’s Cowgirl Stew!”
“Yum!” Aurora said. “I’m so hungry!”
“Okay, who’s gonna start the stew?” Sister asked.
“I’ll go!” Drew said, and she poured a big can of vegetarian chili into the pot.
“Me next!” Missy sang, and dumped in a can of garbanzo beans.
“Well, so far I can eat that,” Becca said, peering into the pot. She poured in a can of tomatoes. She lowered her voice as she always did before she made her announcement. “You know I’m—” she started.
“Vegetarian!” we chorused, and then burst into a fit of giggles.
Cricket put an arm around Becca and gave her a squeeze. “Ignore them. You’re going to outlive all the carnivores!”
“I’ll go next,” I said. “You can eat these!” I poured in my can of spicy black beans, and then Nit came behind me and dumped in black olives. Kimber poured in a jumbo can of pineapple, and we all shrieked.
Sister gave the pot a big stir with an evil laugh, which cracked us up.
“Sister, are you sure no one ever got sick from eating this?” Georgia asked again.
“Positive!” Sister crowed.
While we were waiting for the stew to get hot, we sang the “Hole in the Bucket” song, but Phil had us change it so we sang “Hole in the Stew Pot” instead. Phil had turned out to be a good CIT for real! She was super at leading songs and getting us all organized, and did try to be helpful. Maybe someday she’d turn out to be as nice a counselor as Cricket. I wondered if she and Maxey would ever make up. Nit said they were still not talking to each other.
Sister put two big loaves of buttery garlic bread on the grill, which was a big relief. In case the stew tasted too disgusting, I could eat bread. And s’mores! Sister was letting us have them again. Yum. I was super hungry from my swimming lesson today. I had worked hard.
I kept practicing in my head like Mr. Bucko told me to do. He said I needed to imagine myself swimming, instead of imagining myself not swimming, or even drowning. I pictured myself over and over in my head making it all the way from the dock to the rope. And maybe earning my Pollywog badge! It wasn’t the same as Outstanding Camper of the Week, but it was going to be pretty sweet all the same.
Sister handed the spoon over to Cricket, then reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She kept it on vibrate so it wouldn’t interfere with our back-to-nature experience. “Hello? Yes? Oh, excellent! Thanks!” She snapped her phone shut. “I told Ms. Marshall to call us when she was about five minutes away. She’s got Kayla! We’re going to leave our stew for just a few minutes. Let’s all go stand under the Camp Wickitawa sign with our flashlights and give Kayla a big welcome home!”
“I’ll stay and watch the stew!” Phil yelled.
Sister called Frank next and before you knew it, the whole camp was lined up in two long rows under the Camp Wickitawa signs like we were waiting for a parade to come through. I turned my flashlight on to get ready, but it didn’t go on. I smiled. I knew what that meant! I couldn’t wait to see what my new secret message said.
“There!” Donal yelled at the first flash of headlights.
We all waved our flashlights overhead and stomped and hollered as Ms. Marshall drove under the sign. Kayla was in the backseat with her face pressed up to the window. She looked like she couldn’t believe it all.
Maybe she hadn’t had her parents at the hospital, but she had twenty-four kids here who were glad to see her back. And strangely, even I really was glad!
Even though Thursday was a very long day, no one had any trouble getting up Friday morning when we heard the Blasted Annoying Bugle. I told Nit and Aurora that I’d seen the intercom in Ms. Marshall’s office, and it must be her playing the bugle every morning. Aurora said it could just be a recording, but she didn’t know that for sure.
We all jumped up and got right to our chores, and lined up for our turns in the biffy, like we’d been doing this for months instead of just five days.
“Thanks for getting up with me again last night, Effie!” Naomi said from behind me in the line.
“Yeah, thanks, Ef!” Georgia said.
“Omigod! It was so dark when Effie and I went,” Kimber said. “I heard this noise and I thought it was the Weeping Widow! I nearly jumped out of my skin, but Effie said it was just an old cat in heat.”
“Gosh, you’re so brave, Effie!” Mary Peters said.
I shrugged. It was no big deal, but everyone was really nice to me about it. Cricket kept telling me that I could wake her up so I didn’t have to be the one to go all the time. Phil said the same thing. I didn’t mind. I like being helpful.
Dr
ew leaned out of the line and gave a quick look around. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Well, guess who Effie and I ran into?” She shot me a secret smile.
“Who?” Georgia asked.
“Keenan!” she whispered.
“What was Keenan doing over here?” Kimber asked.
Drew clutched her hands to her heart, and sighed. “Meeting me at three a.m. like we planned.”
Everyone around us gasped. Except me, of course, because I’d been there for the whole thing. Drew had told me not to look, but I couldn’t help myself.
“You got your first kiss!” Naomi breathed.
Drew grinned. “Told you I would!”
“What was it like?” Mary Peters asked.
“Very winter fresh,” Drew giggled. “I think he must have eaten a whole roll of mints before he got here!”
I was at the sink laughing and brushing my teeth with Naomi when it hit me: I hadn’t had a lick of altitude sickness all day Thursday! Just like Cricket said. I’d been so busy I hadn’t had time to even think about it. And maybe I wouldn’t have any today!
After breakfast, we headed over to Ms. Hawkins’s for our class. Since it was the last day, we were sharing our projects. Ms. Marshall came to listen and brought her clipboard. Everyone knew why. But I wasn’t nervous, since I knew I couldn’t be her Outstanding Camper. Which was okay.
Becca’s twin, Bryce, got up to give his report and all the girls sat up and looked at each other. Bryce was the strongest competition from the boys for Outstanding Camper.
Bryce’s report was about soil and what kind of food you could grow here. His idea seemed to be that if you cut down a lot of the trees, you could grow tons of soybeans. It sounded pretty smart. He knew just about everything you would want to know about all the dirt at Camp Wickitawa. He had about twenty-five soil samples from all different parts of camp. But as Kayla had predicted, it was deadly boring. Least to us kids. Ms. Marshall might have been thinking he was a bloody genius.
There was a lot of very polite clapping when he was done, but there were no questions from anybody.
“Effie?” Ms. Hawkins called. “It’s your turn.”
I went to the front of the room. I cleared my throat and looked around. Donal gave me a big thumbs-up, and Nit and Aurora were in the front row smiling at me. Ms. Marshall gave me a nice nod. I think that macaroon helped, like Swat said it would.
“The title of my report is ‘Armadillos: Not Built for Racing or Dodging Cars.’” Ms. Hawkins handed me some gloves, which I put on. Then she handed me Kappa, who we had decided in advance would be less shy in public.
“This is Kappa, but that’s not his real name. His official name is Nine-Banded Armadillo. As you all already know, some mean college boys painted Kappa on his back. It’s a good reminder to all of us that when you do something mean, even when it’s over, it doesn’t wear off for a long time. Ms. Hawkins said it’s a metaphor and a good one to remember.”
I showed everyone his special features, which are called scutes. They’re the layers of bone that cover him. People usually call it armor. I was very gentle holding Kappa, and he stayed calm because he’d had a nice big breakfast of ants and was ready for a nap.
When I was nearly done with my report, Sissy raised her hand. “Why don’t armadillos have armor on their bellies, too? Maybe if they did, they’d survive getting hit by cars.”
I thought a moment. I rubbed Kappa’s soft underbelly. “I’m not really sure, but I think it’s so their hearts don’t get covered up. You don’t want bone over that, even if it could keep you safer.”
It was like what Frank told me about my heart the day we had hot chocolate. He didn’t want me to have armor over the place inside that was about my dad. Even if it did hurt to think about it.
Nobody else asked me any other hard questions after that, and before I sat down I added, “I’m donating all the rest of my camp spending money to Ms. Hawkins so she can afford to keep rescuing armadillos and other animals. If any of you have leftover money, you might want to do that too. Thank you.”
Ms. Marshall clapped when I was done. She said that she really liked how I combined my study of the species with my concern for their humane treatment. She even suggested that I might want to submit my report to Ranger Rick magazine! And then she even told everyone about my idea for having retreats and camp reunions for grown-ups at Camp Wickitawa. She said she really liked the way I thought about the “greater good.”
I just might get my Christmas card from Ms. Marshall after all!
After class, I went and sat in a shady spot at the lake and had my rest period while all the girls had their swimming class. I studied everything they did, especially the super-good swimmers like Mary Peters and Mary Paul. Nit was pretty good too. Aurora was the worst swimmer in class! But she didn’t seem to know it. Or maybe she did, but she didn’t care because she was having so much fun. She never could keep her head down in races. It made her slow. In basketball they’re always yelling “Heads up!” and now she couldn’t break the habit.
I usually spent that time by the lake writing postcards to Mom that I didn’t mail because she wasn’t home to get them. But today I had my mind on Talent Night. Nit, Aurora, and I still didn’t have anything planned! It was hard to think of something we could all do together. It was easy to see what their talents were. I might end up with the matchmaker talent, but I wouldn’t know that until after camp, when Mr. Bucko and Ms. Hawkins had their date. That is, if I passed my swimming test the next day!
I opened my notebook to where I’d started a list of Talent Night ideas.
On the inside cover, I’d taped all the secret messages from my flashlight in the order that they’d come.
Effie, you absolutely can.
THAT was impressive.
You made me laugh today, Effie!
You have a brave heart.
I didn’t know what they meant exactly, or who they were from, but they made me feel really good. It was a tiny little pep talk from my flashlight. A girl sure needed one of those now and then.
• • •
I sat Chica down on the dock as soon as she arrived on Friday afternoon. Mr. Bucko was there with me. “Chica, I need to tell you something that I should have told you right from the start.”
She could tell from my voice that it was something I felt bad about. She gave my hand a pat. “Don’t be sad, Effie!”
“Chica, I don’t know how to swim. I’m sorry that I made you think I could. It wasn’t honest.”
She looked at me puzzled for a second and then smiled. “That’s okay, Effie. You’re still my best friend!”
“But,” I continued, “Mr. Bucko is going to teach us both how to swim today! We almost know how!” I ticked off on my finger. “One, we know how to stay in the water even longer than an armadillo, right?”
“Right!” she said.
“Two, we learned that you don’t hold your breath when you swim, right?”
“No! We blow bubbles!”
“Exactly, and number three, what do we do with our legs and feet?”
“Snip, snip! We love the scissor kick!”
“And number four, I’m going to show you something really fun that Mr. Bucko showed me yesterday. It’s called the Root Beer Float.”
It’s really called the Dead Man’s Float, but I told Mr. Bucko that’s a terrible name for kids who are worried about drowning. He said I could change it.
“I love root beer floats!” she breathed. “Teach me that one too, Effie!”
“Chica, remember when you told me you couldn’t learn how to swim because you were ‘slow’?” I asked.
She nodded. “Slow at everything.”
“You’re not! Look how fast you learned all these different things.”
She caught her breath and held it a second. “I wasn’t slow, was I, Effie?”
I shook my head. “And you sure weren’t slow learning how to paint,” I reminded her. “You’re already as good as any grown-up I
know!”
She blushed and bit back a smile. “Grandpa says it’s not nice to brag. But I wasn’t slow when I ran to get help yesterday either!”
I laughed and gave her a quick squeeze. “You were extremely speedy. My legs are still sore from trying to keep up with you.”
“I guess sometimes I’m slow,” she said, “but sometimes I’m very fast!”
“I’m the same way. Everybody is! Now get in the lake, speedy,” I said.
We got in the lake and she watched me lie on top of the water on my belly, arms out, for a long time. No sinking. Then I showed her how I could do it on my back, too. Still no sinking. It was like a miracle.
We did it together front and back. I showed her how from her belly she could lift her head up a tiny bit, take a breath, and then lay it down and blow bubbles.
“I’m blowing root beer bubbles!” she yelled.
For the last part of the class, Mr. Bucko has us go up on the dock and practice the crawl stroke. Chica was so into it, she forgot all about drying off.
Kind of like how I’d forgotten about altitude sickness.
Mr. Jimenez came down to the dock in time to witness Chica in the water putting her stroke and kick together. It was extremely splashy, but it was swimming!
I was super proud of her! And of me, too. I made it half the distance between the dock and the ropes. I told Mr. Bucko he better make some restaurant reservations for his date with Ms. Hawkins.
“I didn’t see you swim all the way,” he said, teasing like he didn’t think I’d be able to do it.
“I still have tomorrow!” I said.
Talent Night ended up being pure, plain fun! I think they should rename it Silly Night, so a kid doesn’t worry about it for two months like I did. We all laughed so hard we could hardly stay in our chairs. Even the staff were wiping their eyes.
Aurora had remembered this crazy skit called “The Dancing Zits” that one of her cousins had done at some music camp years ago. We were desperate for an idea by that point. We picked out some silly music and asked Kayla if she wanted to be our Squeezer. She couldn’t do her ballet dance that she’d planned because of her busted ankle. She sort of acted like she was doing us a big favor, but I could tell she had a blast with it. During our dance onstage, she squeezed a load of mini-marshmallows out of Nit’s mouth, and black olives out of Aurora’s mouth. I was the biggest hit when she pressed my cheeks together and long green gummy worms popped out of my mouth. All the girls were screaming and covering their eyes, and the boys were howling in hysterics. We ended up getting second place at Talent Night!