Ten!
This time I hold on to the dock a little longer than necessary. I think my wet shorts and T-shirt are weighing me down.
Eeep! Eeep! Eeep! Rose, the head of waterfront, is blowing repeatedly into her whistle and glaring at me from her perch on the dock beside the other swim staff (including two cute boy counselors, which no one but me seems to find mucho embarrassing). She spits the whistle out of her mouth and lets it dangle around her neck. “Holding! You have to do that last lap over again. Let go immediately.” She is as evil as Alison said she was. She even looks like the devil in her one-piece red suit and matching red sun visor.
“Are you chewing gum?” she shrieked at Poodles when we first went down to the beach and sat in our bunk lines.
Poodles rolled her eyes. “No?”
“Don't lie to me. There is absolutely no food, no gum, no anything down on the beach. Do we understand each other?”
Poodles swallowed her gum.
I don't know why Rose acts like she's forty when she's only, like, twenty, tops. Anyway, I cannot believe she just gave me an extra lap. I think I'll switch over to my back. Maybe if I kick a little, I'll make some progress. Hey, it's working! I'm moving! I might be a little slow, but who cares? I get to look at the sky, which is like a big blue painting with a few clouds that look like marshmallows.
I wonder what's for lunch. I'm kind of hungry. And thirsty. I could use a glass of water.
Why am I thinking about water? (Um, maybe because I'm surrounded by it?) It's making me have to pee even more. I really have to go. Is it gross if I just let out a small drop? It's not like anyone would see—
Smack!
I would say ow, but I just swallowed another gallon of water. And the sky is spinning, since the smack was me knocking my head against someone else's head, bumper car–style, and the crash has sent me flying in another direction.
“Are you crazy?” asks the girl I smacked. “You have to stay in your lane. You were going diagonally.”
Maybe swimming on my back and admiring the sky wasn't my best idea. I struggle to tread water and catch my breath. I turn to the girl, recognizing her immediately. She's that rude black-haired girl from fifteen who practically knocked me over yesterday outside the cabin. “I'm so sorry,” I say. “Are you okay?” I at least have manners. I at least apologize when I nearly take someone out.
She narrows her almond-colored eyes into slits, then shakes her head while continuing to glare at me. “Hardly.”
“I'm just learning how to swim,” I say by way of an explanation.
“Save your excuses for the fish,” she snaps, then kicks off in the other direction. “The entire lake doesn't belong to you.”
Well, excuse me. Annoyance bubbles inside me, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. Must not lose temper . . . must not lose temper . . . As rude as Miss Attitude was, I wouldn't want to accidentally turn her into a minnow.
With my luck, I'd probably turn her into a whale and then she'd swallow me.
Anyway, I shouldn't be wasting my magic on something as insignificant as her. I should be trying to come up with some sort of swimming spell. Something, I think as I swallow another mouthful of lake while still in my treading position, that will keep me above the water. How about:
“It's time to float,
Just like a boat!”
Burst of cold, and . . . my legs are expanding.
More specifically, my knees are blowing up like they're balloons being pumped with helium. My legs look like two snakes that have swallowed television sets. Now my knees are rising out of the water! Sit, legs, sit!
My rising knees are pushing me on my stomach and forcing my head below water. If this spell makes me drown, I'm going to be really pissed off.
“Stop!” I gurgle at my knees. “Get back down!”
Carly, who's now swimming beside me, looks over with concern. “Are you okay? You look like you're having trouble.”
I turn onto my back in an attempt to keep from drowning. “Fine, thanks.” I need my sister. “Miri!” I gasp, arms flailing. “Come here!” She's on the beach, reading. Miri and her bunkmates were the first ones to take the test, and Miri, a super swimmer (she used my dad's pool for something other than cooling off), was the first out of the water.
“Can you focus, please?” Rose snaps from the dock.
“Miri!” I try again. My sister finally spots me, drops her book, and hurries into the water. “What?” she asks, swimming up beside me.
“Please tell me you brought the spell-reversal charm to camp.”
She nods.
“Thank God. Okay. Go get it. I'm having a prob—”
Before I can finish the sentence, my personal floatation devices flip me headfirst upside down and underwater, into a quasi headstand.
Cough! Sputter!
Miri yanks my head out of the water. “Rachel, what did you do?” she asks in amazement.
“Tiny”—cough—“mistake.”
Eeep! Eeep! Eeep! “Did I give you permission to enter the water?” Rose yells at Miri. “Did I?”
Miri drags me to the side and secures my feet under the dock so that they won't fly up. “I'll go get the reversal crystal from my bunk. And watch how cool this is—I discovered a new transport spell that will work in the lake!” With a dive under the water, she vanishes.
I dip my head under the surface to watch, but it's too murky to see anything.
Eeep! Rose is anxiously searching the waterfront. “Where did she go?”
“Um . . . who?”
Rose waves her hands over her head. “The girl you were talking to!”
“What girl?”
Eeep! Eeep! Eeep! Eeep! Rose's whistle sounds like an overeager teakettle. “Campers out of the water!” she screams. “Search and rescue! Human chain, human chain!”
You've got to be kidding.
All the remaining girls, except me of course, because I'm too afraid to move, rush to the shore. Rose whips off her sun visor and dives off the dock, into the lake. Meanwhile, the swim staff all grab hands at the front of the beach and begin combing through the water.
Miri suddenly bobs up beside me with a splash. “Got it,” she says, holding the spell-reversal necklace over her head. She looks around at the chaos. “What's going on?”
“Search and rescue,” I say.
“For who?”
“You.” I grab Miri's hand and wave it in the air. “She's right here!” I yell. “Stop the search!”
A flabbergasted Rose front-crawls over to us. “Where were you?”
“Around?” Miri says. She swims backward, circling me, as the spell reversal requires.
“But I . . . I'm going to be watching you two,” Rose spits. “Search and rescue canceled!” she screams to the rest of the staff, climbing up the ladder, dripping with water.
As Miri finishes the reversal, my knees shrink to their nonengorged size. Ah. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She starts swimming toward the shore.
“Wait, Mir, can I borrow the crystal?”
“Why?”
“Wardrobe malfunction,” I say sheepishly.
She floats on her back. “I think you should stop using your Glinda until you can control it better.”
“My Glinda is just fine, thank you very much.” The nerve of her. As if my magic isn't on a par with hers. Honestly, my magic isn't that bad. A little rough around the edges, maybe. If you fall off your bike, you don't just sell it on eBay, do you? No, you get back on and practice. I doggie-paddle over to her, grab the crystal necklace from her hand, and place it around my neck. “If you'll excuse me,” I say huffily, “I have some laps to swim.”
Too bad the spell reversals didn't work on my outfit—my wet boxers and T-shirt are not exactly giving me extra speed.
I am unable to finish my laps.
It is beyond embarrassing.
I try one more swimming spell, but it somehow manages to make my legs and arms weigh six thousand pounds, s
o I can barely move and I end up sinking to the lake's sandy bottom, where I'm forced to reverse my spell.
Since I am now way too exhausted to complete ten laps, I get my dolphin, which means that, unlike all the other Lion girls, I get a chain bracelet with a blue bead. They also get a chain bracelet, but their beads are yellow.
“Could have been worse,” Alison says, back on the beach. “You could have gotten your turtle.”
“Not funny,” I say, fingering my bracelet of shame.
“I'm just teasing. Honestly, it doesn't matter. We still like you.”
The five of us are sprawled on our towels, soaking up the sun. The five of us and Miri, that is. As soon as I dragged myself out of the water, she joined us on the beach. Actually, only three of my bunkmates are sprawling. Carly is doing her stomach crunches. She's the only girl in the bunk (besides me) who went swimming in a pair of shorts, then covered herself with her shirt as soon as she got out of the lake.
“Guys, check out the pair of tits on the new girl!” Morgan says.
There's that word again. I can't stand it! It's like fingernails against a—
“Can you not use the word tits?” Poodles asks.
“Tits, tits, tits,” Morgan chants.
“Unlike you, we don't stare at people's chests,” Alison says.
“I'm not staring! But she was walking around the cabin topless. Mine are nearly as gorgeous, but you don't see me parading around like that, showing them off.”
“Cece told me she was being super-braggy,” Alison says. “Showing off, talking about all the places she's lived.”
“Where did she live?” Poodles asks.
“Apparently, she goes to boarding school in Switzerland,” Alison says.
“Trishelle told me that she told the whole bunk she shops in Milan, London, and Paris,” Carly says.
“I don't believe it for a second,” Morgan grumbles.
“Well, I believe it,” says Carly, midcrunch. “Did you see that bathing suit?”
“It must have cost a fortune,” Poodles says. “Morgan, you'd better get out of the sun. You're burning already.”
Morgan brushes off the warning. “I need to get some color.”
“You always burn on the second day,” Alison tells her. She turns to me and adds, “She always burns on the second day. She never listens.”
“I don't think they're all that great,” Carly says.
“What's not so great?” Alison asks.
“Her tits,” Morgan answers for Carly.
Cringe.
“Which one is she?” I ask, searching the shaded area of the beach where the group from fifteen are clustered.
Alison props herself up on her elbows and points at Miss Attitude, who pushed me yesterday and yelled at me in the water today. “The girl in the black bikini.”
Miss Attitude is now animatedly talking to her bunkmates, her dark wet hair hanging down to her waist.
“Didn't you meet her?” Poodles asks. “Her name is Liana.”
“I wonder how they decided to put me in your bunk and Liana in theirs,” I say. “You'd think they would have put the two new girls together.”
“There are two new girls in fifteen, actually,” Alison says. She points to a pale blond girl sitting by herself at the edge of the circle. “Her name is Molly.”
“Where's she from?” Poodles asks.
“Greenwich, maybe?” Alison says.
I study the girls from bunk fifteen. I recognize the awful Liana; the other new girl, Molly; Cece, who's friends with Alison; and Trishelle and Kristin from the bus. “Who's the girl with the glasses?” I ask, motioning to the only one I haven't met.
“Natalie,” Alison says. “You'd like her; she's supersmart.”
Morgan adjusts her bikini. “What a know-it-all. I'm glad I don't have to share a bunk with her anymore.”
“You're not still mad at her for going to the camp social with Brandon Young last year, are you?” Poodles asks.
“Noooo.” She considers her answer. “Fine, maybe a little. But I don't care about him anymore. He's such a child. Did you see him sticking Cheerios up his nose at breakfast? Puh-lease. I'm onto bigger and better things. Like Will.”
“Didn't you hear?” Alison says. “Rachel says he has a girlfriend.”
“Whatever. She's not here, is she?”
“Attenthion all camperth and counthlorth,” says the voice in the sky. “Attenthion all camperth and counthlorth. Pleathe protheed to thecond morning activity.”
“Let's go, girls,” Deb says, clapping. “We need to change superfast and then motor over to the rec hall for drama.”
I follow the lead of my bunkmates and wrap my towel tightly around me. That is, all my bunkmates except Morgan, who ties her towel around her waist.
“You okay?” I ask Miri as we head up the beach. She was pretty quiet on the sand. I was happy to have her with me, but I kind of wish she felt comfortable hanging out with her own bunk.
“Uh-huh.”
We pause at the top of the beach, under the sign listing the rules, which include things like no gum, no horseplay, and always swim with a buddy.
Miri's going to have to find herself a buddy.
“Where's your bunk?” I ask.
“That way,” she says, pointing away from where I'm going. “Bunk two is in Lower Field, but it's behind all the other bunks, near the Lower Field showers.” She makes a face. “I have to hike all the way up a hill to get to my bunk.”
“So do I.”
“My hill is bigger than yours, trust me. Come see?” she asks hopefully.
“This second?”
“Yeah.”
My bunkmates are already disappearing down the road. “Mir, I have to get ready for drama. Maybe later. Did you get a bottom bunk?”
She sighs. “No. Top. You?”
“Me too.”
“But you hate top bunks!”
I shrug. “I'm sure it'll be fine. I gotta go. See you at lunch!” I say. I turn around to hurry after the girls. When I reach them, I can't help feeling good. I'm at camp. At camp! Who would have thought? I like camp! It's sunny! The girls are nice. If only I can seal the deal with Raf . . .
Omigod, there's Raf, right in front of me!
No, not Raf, it's Will. The two of them have the same sexy dark hair, dark eyes, and lean athletic body. Will is taller than Raf, though, and his hair is shorter. Raf has a wider smile. And a curl to his hair that Will doesn't have. Oh, no, what am I going to say to Will? We haven't spoken since his prom. I've been in minor denial about having to run into him someday, and here he is, coming down the road, laughing, looking as cute as ever. He's wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers without socks, none of which I've ever seen him in. His dark brown hair is messy, and his normally serious expression is relaxed and all smiley. Little boys are following him in a line like he's the Pied Piper.
Okay, I swear I don't have any romantic feelings left for Will, but how adorable is he?
About a second after I spot him, he spots me and turns a deep shade of watermelon. The inside of a watermelon, not the outside, since he's flushed, not nauseous.
I hope. I mean, no girl wants the sight of her to make a guy sick.
“Hi, ladies,” he says to my entire bunk while looking at me.
Okay, the key to having an awkwardless summer is making sure Will knows that I am cool with him.
“Will, hi!” crows Morgan, heaving out her chest as far as she can without toppling over.
“Hey, Will,” say the other girls.
“Hi, Will!” I sing extra-sweetly, and stop directly in his path. “How's Kat?”
He smiles. Of course he smiles. He's crazy about her. “She's great,” he says with a wistful expression on his face. Aw. How sweet! He misses her.
“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the little boys sings.
“No,” Will says a little too loudly, then gives me a wide smile. “But you might want to ask my brother if she's his.”
&
nbsp; Did he just say what I think he said? Really? Does that mean Raf talked about me? It must. And Will is cool with it! Wahoo! I try to remain calm.
“So, Will,” says Morgan, practically wiggling her boobs right in his face, “did you have a good year?”
“Not bad. How was yours?”
“Oh, I really grew,” she says, wiggling some more. “You know. Emotionally.”
“All right, let's go,” I say to Morgan.
“Congrats on graduating,” she continues, fully ignoring me. “Where are you going next year? Somewhere near me?”
“Columbia.”
“On scholarship,” I add, sounding like a proud sibling—which is what I'll be when Raf and I get married.
One of Will's campers paws his hand. “Daddy, what do we have now?”
Will picks up the kid and puts him on his shoulders. “Mitchell, remember, I'm your counselor, not your dad. And we have baseball.”
Another one of his campers tugs his pants. “And what's for lunch?”
“Grilled cheese,” he says.
Really? “Yum,” I say. “That's my favorite.”
“They always serve comfort food for the first few days,” Will says. “Comfort food for the homesick.”
Homesick? What's that?
We change into fresh outfits (I use the spell reversal on my cubby and have my regular clothes back, finally), hang our wet clothes and towels over the porch railing to dry in the sun, and then head to drama (where we play improv games), then pottery (where we make bowls), then lunch washup (where we wash), then lunch (where we eat).
Rest hour is after lunch. Poodles and Carly are playing gin rummy on Poodles' bed; Alison is immersed in a cross-word puzzle; and I'm writing a letter to Tammy, telling her how much fun camp is.
We hear Liana yapping a mile a minute on the other side of our wall. She doesn't quite get the meaning of rest hour.
“All the girls at Miss Rally's Hall for Girls—that's the exclusive boarding school I go to in Switzerland—are wearing this perfume. It's the hot new scent.”
“I got that on Paddington,” she's saying now. “It's the most fashionable street in Sydney. . . .”
Poodles picks up a card, frowns, and slams down the queen of spades.
Spells & Sleeping Bags Page 7