Spells & Sleeping Bags

by Sarah Mlynowski

  She bounces the ball back to me. “That is a good point. She could be up to something. We'll keep an eye on her. I'll tell the others.”

  The next day, all four of us watch and treat her suspiciously. We are a unit and Liana is the outsider, and we display this during second period at soccer. Liana is now on our team—not that you could tell. None of us passes her the ball. There's no way I'm going to believe she'd actually play against her buddies from fifteen.

  After ten minutes of running around, Morgan is gasping. “Does anyone have water? I could have sworn I brought mine, but I don't know where it went.”

  Liana appears next to her with a full bottle. “You can have some of mine,” she says sweetly.

  Morgan steps back in surprise. After a moment's hesitation, she takes a long sip from Liana's bottle. “Thanks,” she says, smacking her lips.

  Liana smiles. “Happy to help.”

  After that, Morgan passes Liana the ball. And Liana doesn't waste it. She kicks it directly into fifteen's net.

  “Go, Liana!” Morgan cheers.

  Go away, maybe.

  So she scored a point for our team. So what? She's obviously up to something. But what?

  After soccer, Morgan seems to have either forgotten or dismissed our Proceed with Caution plan. Suddenly, Morgan and Liana are BFFs. They sit together at lunch. They pick each other as partners for tennis.

  Part of me is not entirely surprised. I like Morgan, but sometimes she's a little obnoxious, not to mention crude.

  “There's something off about her,” Poodles says after tennis, as we pick up our stray balls. “But I can't put my finger on it.”

  “I never did trust Morgan a hundred percent,” I say.

  Poodles looks at me funny. “Why are you backstabbing Morgan? I'm talking about Liana. I don't trust her at all.”

  My face burns. I feel chastised, and even angrier at Liana. Look what she's turning me into! A backstabbing bunkmate. “I don't trust Liana either,” I say. “Or like her.”

  We look up and catch Liana glaring at me. Then she whispers something to Morgan and the two of them crack up.

  Poodles tosses her ball into the air and then catches it. “The feeling is obviously mutual. She doesn't seem to like you, either.”

  Raf and I are in the playground, swinging side by side, enjoying our afternoon snack.

  Everything about this moment is yummy to the power of three. One, instead of plain milk, there's surprise chocolate milk; two, I'm on a swing; and three . . . well, Raf.

  “How do you like your new bunkmate?” he asks.

  I kick my legs up to gain momentum. “There's something weird about her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just something,” I say noncommittally. Recalling what Poodles said about backstabbing, I don't tell Raf all about why I don't like her. I don't want him to think I'm mean. Or paranoid.

  “Hi, guys,” I hear.

  Speak of the devil. Liana is standing in front of us with Morgan. Morgan is wearing her typical itsy-bitsy bikini top and short swim shorts. Liana, on the other hand, is looking glamorous, as usual, in a tight white halter top and a long navy blue wrap skirt.

  She really does have the best clothes—and a lot of them. Now that I think about it, I realize I've never seen her wear the same outfit twice. How is that possible? Her cubby is too neat to hold so many clothes. But I guess she has to keep it that way to keep track of them all.

  I'd be happier right now if I weren't wearing a particularly grubby black T-shirt and gray shorts that I love to wear but keep forgetting to toss into my laundry bag.

  Liana's eyes are on me. “Need a push?”

  “No, thanks.” Unless it involves pushing you out of the way.

  She turns to my quasi boyfriend and smiles. “Raf, I'd love to give you a push.”

  The chocolate milk in my stomach curdles. I can‘t believe she said that. Who introduced them, anyway? She smiles at him sweetly. Why is she flirting with him? Hands off, I want to yell. Step away from the swing!

  “I'm all right,” he says.

  “You know, Raf,” she says, “you look so much like Will. Don't you think so, Rachel?”

  Just where is she going with this? She doesn't know about us, does she? She can't know . . . unless Morgan told her.

  “I think he looks like himself,” I answer, and glare at the two girls.

  “Really?” Liana purrs. “I think he looks just like Will. But better-looking.”

  If she doesn't stop hitting on my Raf, I'm going to . . . Before I can control myself, her chocolate milk leaps out of her glass and lands in a blob on her previously clean white halter.

  She looks at her shirt in shocked silence. Then she looks up at me and scowls.

  As if it's my fault.

  Okay, it is my fault, but she has no way of knowing that.

  I feel guilty for a half second, before Raf jumps off his swing and offers to get napkins from the kitchen. Liana follows him, giving me a nasty smile.

  Morgan spots Will and runs off to shake her boobs.

  Thanks, Liana, for killing my romantic moment by the swings. Yeah, I know it's my fault for letting my magic get the best of me, but it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't flirted with my guy.

  As I sit on the swing by myself, I decide that I might need to make another visit to Miri tonight. It's becoming apparent that I need something stronger than megels.

  Deb, Poodles, Carly, and I decide to work on our tans during GS, while Liana and Morgan and all of bunk fifteen splash around in whale.

  “I can't believe they're BFFs all of a sudden,” Carly says while reapplying suntan lotion to her legs.

  “Girls, be nice,” Deb says. “She's not that bad. Sure, she's a little high-strung, but—”

  “You have to be nice,” Poodles snorts.

  I spot Miri alone in her bunk line. The rest of her bunk is in the water. I wave her over. “What were you doing?”

  She spreads out her towel next to mine. “Thinking.”

  “Why aren't you swimming?”

  She shrugs.

  “Want me to go swimming with you?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Why not?”

  “I'm not wearing a bathing suit.”

  “Miri, you have to wear a bathing suit on the beach.”

  “I didn't think I'd have anyone to go swimming with.”

  “I'll swim with you.”

  “I don't have my suit on, remember?”

  I sigh. “You should be socializing during GS, not just thinking.”

  “Raf isn't socializing.”

  I look at where she's pointing and spot Raf lying on his back, engrossed in a book. He's so cute when he's studious. “That's different. He's not socializing because he wants to read, not because he doesn't have any friends.”

  I swear I didn't mean for that to come out as awful as it sounded.

  “Why are you so mean to me?” Miri snaps, turning bright red. She pushes herself off the sand, grabs her towel, and starts walking away. “I've made friends, by the way. Not that you would notice.”

  “Mir, stay. I'm sorry. Hang out with me.”

  For a second, I think she's going to keep walking, but then she sits back down. “Can we do some Glinda-ing tonight?” I ask. My code word for training.

  She hesitates. “I can't.”

  “Why not?”

  She plays with the lanyard bracelet on her wrist. “Because . . . because I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night and I need to get some rest.”

  “Oh. Well, fine. Tomorrow night?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good. And I like your bracelet. Great stitching. Very impressed that you learned square.”

  A long shadow cuts across my upper torso. Liana is blocking my sun.

  “Hi, Rachel.” She gives Miri a big smile. “Hi, Miri.”

  Excuse me? First Raf and now Miri? “How do you know my sister?”

  Liana kneels down on my sister's tow
el, and Morgan sits beside her. “Mir and I are old friends.”

  “Oh, really?” Mir? Is she kidding me?

  “We're taking tennis together,” Miri explains hurriedly. “As an elective.”

  Liana takes a big drink of her water. “Deb, you look kind of dehydrated. You'd better drink some water.”

  “What? Oh, thanks.” Deb takes a gulp, then hands the bottle back.

  “Poodles, do you want any? You're also looking kind of red.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Liana shrugs. “Carly?”

  Carly shakes her head.

  Gee, thanks. She offers it to everyone but me and my sister. Not that I want any. We don't need any Liana cooties.

  “Your sister is fantastic, Rachel,” Liana says. “Her serve is deadly.”

  Miri beams. “That means so much coming from you. Did you know that Liana is an internationally ranked player?”

  Oh, please. She is such a liar.

  Morgan whistles. “Wow.”

  Liana brushes the compliment away with the back of her slender hand. “No big deal.”

  “That will look totally cool on college applications,” Morgan says.

  Deb eyes Liana's muscled legs. “Is that how you stay in such great shape?”

  One point Liana. But the game isn't over yet.

  The next few days pass by in a blur. Visiting day is on Sunday, so people are preparing for their parents' arrival. I can't believe that summer is half over. I can't believe that summer is half over and Raf and I still haven't kissed.

  I can't seem to get any time alone with him. Every time it's just the two of us, someone pops up. Raf and I are sitting on the porch at night; Morgan joins us. We're swimming at GS; Trishelle splashes us. We're sitting together at evening activity; Liana sits next to us.

  He would totally kiss me if he had the chance. Right?

  Unless he hasn't kissed me because he doesn't like me. No. That can't be! He likes me! He broke up with Melissa because he likes someone else. But what if it's not me? He tried to kiss me (several times, to no avail), so it has to be me. What if it was me but now he's changed his mind? What if he's still weirded out about me and Will? No. He still likes me, or else he would have given up by now. I just need time alone with him. Time alone to cement the deal. To cement our lips. Together.

  Funny, I can't seem to get any time alone with Miri, either.

  I stop by her bunk at supper washup, but she's not there. I can't find her at free play, either. I finally corner her the next day at SI. “What do you mean you're still tired?” I ask her. It's Thursday morning, three days before visiting day. We're sitting on the bench at the top of the beach, waiting for the period to start.

  “I need more sleep.”

  “What about at free play? We'll use the invisibility umbrella.”

  “I'm busy at free play.”

  “With what?”

  “Stuff.”

  “Miri, come on.” I close my eyes and let the sun warm my cheeks.

  “No. What about after evening activity, before curfew?” she suggests.

  “That's not a good time for me,” I say.

  “No, you're too busy with Raf then.”

  True. “If I'm not with him, then he can't kiss me.”

  “You're choosing Raf over me,” she says.

  “You're choosing sleep over me!”

  “Anyway, you don't need me to practice your megels.”

  “But, Miri, I think I'm ready to—”

  “Have you perfected your megels yet?”

  “No. . . .”

  “Then you don't need me. None of you need me.”

  My eyes shoot open and I turn to look at her. “What are you talking about?”

  Her face is flushed and it's not from the sun. “Huh?”

  “What do you mean nobody needs you?”

  “How many letters has Mom written you?”

  “Um, I don't know. About two per week.” I lean over, pick up a few grains of sand, and roll them between my fingers.

  Miri pales. “Oh.”

  “ ‘Oh’ what? How many has she written you?”

  “None.”

  “What?”

  “She hasn't written me once.”

  “That's impossible.”

  She shrugs. “It's true.”

  “They probably got lost.”

  “Why would your letters find you but mine get lost?”

  Good question. “Hey, are you getting weirdo packages from Jennifer?”

  “Yes! What is up with that? This week I got a box of tampons. What's wrong with her?”

  “Better than what I got this week—a tube of Preparation H.”

  She snickers. “That is worse.”

  “Mir, you're getting Dad's e-mails, right?”

  “Yeah. Dad, who only has time to write us joint e-mails.”

  Her not getting any mail from Mom still doesn't make sense to me. “Hey, Mir, maybe Mom has your bunk number wrong, and Stef is sending them to the wrong cabin. Next time you write her, make sure to tell her the right one.”

  “Forget it. I'm not writing her if she can't be bothered to write me.”

  “Miri, I'm sure that's not it. . . .”

  “She's too busy with Lex. You have Raf, and Mom has Lex. Hey, you don't think he's coming for visiting day, do you?”

  “I don't know. Probably not.”

  “What about Jennifer?”

  “Yeah, she's probably coming. Dad wrote that they're driving up with Prissy and then leaving her here.”

  “I wonder how he's getting away with that since starter camp begins the day after visiting day.”

  “He probably paid them a little extra to take Prissy a day early.”

  “See? He doesn't care about any of us either.”

  “Miri!”

  She scoops up a pile of sand with her hand and lets it sift through her fingers. “It's true. All he cares about is Jennifer and having a new baby with her. That's why we're at camp to begin with.”

  She's not completely wrong. I mean, that is how going to camp came about, but I don't think that Dad doesn't care about us. He loves us, and so does Mom. They're just busy with their own lives.

  “Miri!” I say, smacking my bare knee with my hand. “I just realized that Mom and Dad are both coming to visiting day! Both of them! In the same place! How uncomfy will that be?”

  “I don't care,” she says. “It's their mess. Let them worry about it.”

  Unfortunately, my psyche doesn't work that way. I almost wish they weren't coming. Now I have to spend the next few days worrying about whether my mom and Jennifer will talk to each other, whether seeing my dad will hurt my mom's feelings, and whether they both realize that the other one's going to be here. . . . I can't help getting annoyed at them. The past month has been parental-issue free.

  Rose blows her whistle, interrupting my children-of-divorce daydream. “There should be a name for bad daydreams,” I say to Miri. “For nightmares during the day.”

  “Daymares?” Miri suggests, taking off her shorts.

  “Everyone in the water!” Rose orders. “Hustle, hustle.”

  Oh, right, there's already a name. It's swimming lessons.

  13

  HELLO, MUDDAH.

  HELLO, FADDAH.

  “Ten, nine, eight, theven, thix, five, four, three, two—”

  All the girls of fourteen and fifteen are waiting on the porch for two o'clock, ready to pounce. Today is visiting day, and our parents are currently gathering in Upper Field, which has been turned into a temporary parking lot. Campers are not allowed off their porches until Stef says so.

  “One!”

  She blows her whistle and we all take off. Since our bunk is one of the closest to Upper Field, we'll probably be the first ones there.

  We run down the hill, and that's when we see the stampede of parents. There are hundreds of them, all smiling and clutching packages, on a mission to find their kids. I jump back to get out of their path
. I think I'll just wait till my parents come this way. No reason to fight the tide.

  About ten minutes later, I hear a high-pitched voice: “Am I going to sleep here, Mommy? Here? What about there?”

  It's Prissy! A warm rush of emotion washes over me. How about that? I didn't even realize that I missed her until this second. Who'd have thought? What the heck—I run against the crowd to find them. And there they are! Prissy is trying to walk while twirling in her white sundress (which will get filthy in about five seconds; I hope Jennifer packed her some more appropriate camp clothing). Jennifer is wearing a trendy knee-length jean skirt and a silky purple sleeveless top. Her blond hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her eyes are shaded with big sunglasses. My dad looks as badly dressed as always. He's wearing beige shorts that show off his skinny, hairy legs and a striped tucked-in golf shirt. But it's so good to see him!

  “Hi!” I scream, trying to throw my arms around all of them. The familiar smell of their lemony fabric softener brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

  “Hello, honey!” my dad says, squeezing me tightly.

  I reach up to pat his bald spot. “I missed you guys!”

  “You look so nice and tanned,” Jennifer says. “And your hair got so long and beautiful!”

  I pick Prissy up and spin her around. “Ready for camp?”

  “Yup! I packed my flip-flops and my bathing suits and my princess doll and my teddy bear and my—”

  An anxious mother pushes her way past us and I nearly trip.

  “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “Trying to find my kids!”

  “No worries,” I say, à la Poodles.

  “Have you been getting my packages?” Jennifer asks.

  “Oh yeah. Um, thanks.”

  “My pleasure! Hope you enjoy!”

  Alrighty.

  My dad peers down the road. “Where's your sister?”

  “I'm sure she'll show up in a sec. My bunk is right up there. Why don't we get out of everyone's way?” They follow me up the hill to my cabin.

  My dad leans against the railing. “So this is where you live?”

  “This is it.” I keep a lookout for my mom and Miri. They'll be coming from different directions, but I should be able to spot them both on the road.