Revenge of the Happy Campers

by Jennifer Ziegler

  Finally we found the right walk — a slow tramp with our heads held up high so we could follow the big star and look noble. We’d thought of everything, and we were the wisest-looking of all at the auditions, but instead we were cast as angels.

  When we asked Mrs. Higginbotham if we did a good job, she said yes. We said, “But we didn’t get to be Wise Men,” and she said, “Of course not. Those roles are for boys.”

  And that was that. Until now.

  “It’s not right that Lucas, Adam, and Tommy get the parts just because they’re boys,” Darby said.

  “Yeah, I mean, what century does she think she’s in? Girls can be anything boys can be. Besides, the baby Jesus is actually a Baby Betsy doll,” I said. “If she can be a he, why can’t we?”

  “Because Mrs. Higginbotham is not being fair,” Dawn grumbled. She crossed her arms over her chest and plopped down on her bed.

  I plopped down on my bed, too, but kept plopping. The next thing I knew, I was on my feet, jumping on the mattress. It felt good to get the nervousness out — until I accidentally bounced into the shelf between my bed and Dawn’s. Books and cards and dominos tumbled everywhere.

  “Doggone it, Delaney!” Dawn fussed at me.

  I hopped off the bed and started picking up the stuff on the floor. Darby gathered dominos. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I get jittery whenever I’m mad. Or nervous. Or excited.”

  “Or awake,” Dawn growled.

  “I can’t help it,” I said again. I know I can be annoying with all my bouncing and bustling. I’m the most restless and energetic of my sisters. Dawn says I was born with coffee in my veins. And Darby says I move at a different speed than everyone else. All I know is, I have to move when I’m thinking or feeling stuff. And I guess I’m always thinking or feeling something.

  I’m getting better at controlling it, though. This past summer I was even able to stay quiet and sneak up on my sister Lily to make sure she was all right when the Almost Wedding stuff started going crazy. I was really surprised and proud when I did it.

  “It’s all right,” Dawn said to me. She picked up a couple of books close to her feet and put them back on the shelf. “You get jittery when you’re upset and I get surly.”

  “And I feel like curling up and hiding,” Darby said. She put the last book back on the shelf and sat down on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. “I just can’t believe we didn’t get the part. We worked so hard!”

  “Yeah!” I said. I was hopping again — but just on my toes, making sure I stayed in one spot. “Now that we’re angels, we won’t get to do our wise walk! We don’t even get to walk. We just stand there and sway and pretend like we’re flying.”

  “Oh, well. At least you might be better at swaying than doing the wise walk. You were always too speedy,” Darby said to me. She’s always trying to look on the bright side.

  “You make a pretty good angel, Darby,” I told her. It was true. She had a peaceful-happy look on her face while we were auditioning. “You’ll be great at it.”

  “What are you two doing?” Dawn hollered. “Why are you talking like we’re going along with this whole debacle? We aren’t!”

  Darby and I knew what would happen next.

  Sure enough, Dawn called out, “Meeting in the Triangular Office! Now!” Only we were already in the Triangular Office. Our bedroom is in the attic, so the ceiling is pitched like the roof. And the floor, of course, is flat, making a triangular shape.

  Dawn pounded her headboard with her fist, as if it were a gavel, to call the meeting to order. Dawn runs the meetings because she is the oldest triplet — and the bossiest. Besides, she plans to be president when she grows up. I’m going to be Speaker of the House and Darby is going to be chief justice. Those are both important jobs, but the president is the head of government, so we let her summon us out of respect for the office.

  “Darby, you take notes,” Dawn directed. “Let’s list everything that led up to this calamity.”

  Darby sat in front of the computer on our big desk and we stood behind her, Dawn at her left shoulder and me at her right. Then we all took turns dictating what had happened.

  This is what Darby typed:

  This morning, Mom dropped us off at church approximately forty-five minutes early in order to audition for the annual Christmas Eve Pageant. We were trying out for the part of the Three Wise Men.

  Mom didn’t stick around because she had lots of packing to do. She and Lily are going to Boston to see Aunt Jane. This bothers us because Lily just got home from college. Also, we want to see Aunt Jane, too. But that doesn’t have anything to do with our audition.

  Let the record state that the three of us had spent three full days practicing. We knew that if you want to win a part at an audition, you have to be the best at it. That meant we had to be the wisest-looking of all the other kids. The way you look wise is to make your face look not happy or sad, so no frowning or smiling. But you can’t look like a robot, either. You have to look like you are thinking about something really important all the time.

  Mr. and Mrs. Higginbotham were in charge of the auditions. They are the bosses of the church. We don’t remember there being an election, but Mrs. Higginbotham tells people what to do all the time.

  Three boys from our middle school group were also there: Lucas Westbrook, who lives down the road from us, and his pals Adam and Tommy Ybarra. Plus, there were a few kids we didn’t know who were younger than us. Also there were Lucy Beasley and Wilson Cantu, who are in eighth grade and are boyfriend and girlfriend. They had already told everyone that they wanted to be Mary and Joseph. Everyone was fine with that.

  Mr. Higginbotham worked the sounds and lights while Mrs. Higginbotham supervised the tryouts. Of all the people who auditioned for the Wise Men, we were the best by far. Here is the evidence:

  Lucas’s cowboy boots made such a loud clomp-clomp that the little kids put their hands over their ears.

  Adam was really slow and kept rolling his eyes.

  Tommy kept saying “Frankenstein” instead of “frankincense.”

  And all the little kids who tried out as Wise Men had a real hard time standing still. Even Delaney managed not to bounce around, which proves we were super prepared.

  No one else tried to look smart and regal. No one else made big round eyes to show they were beholding something wondrous. They just walked their regular walks and looked their regular looks. But when Mrs. Higginbotham announced the cast list, she said Lucas, Adam, and Tommy would be the Wise Men. We would be angels.

  Then Mom picked us up. She told Mrs. Higginbotham it was really nice of her to head up auditions with all the other things she was doing for the church. Mrs. Higginbotham said she doesn’t do it for personal glory, she helps out because she is a good person.

  She then told Mom to bring cookies for the pageant reception.

  Mom said she’d planned to bring a cobbler.

  Mrs. Higginbotham told her the Murchisons were already bringing cobbler and we can’t have too much of one thing. Then she walked away.

  On the way home, we told Mom we liked her cobbler and that it was the best dessert she made. Also, we reminded her that you can’t have too much of a good thing. It’s what Dad said when we were born.

  Mom told us she’d rather make cookies than make a fuss.

  Dawn made a grunting noise as Darby typed and said, “I’d rather make a fuss.”

  Darby stopped typing. “I think that’s everything,” she said.

  “So … what do we do now?” I asked.

  “First off,” Dawn said, “I think we need to stop referring to the roles as ‘Wise Men’ and call them ‘Wise People’ instead. That way maybe we can convince everyone that girls can do the parts, too.”

  “Agreed,” Darby said.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “Secondly,” Dawn continued, “we need to change the Higginbothams’ minds. We need to show them that we are not angels — we’re Wise People.”


  “Agreed,” Darby said.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  It was quiet for a moment. Then I said, “So how are we going to do that?”

  None of us had any ideas.

  We sat and sat and thought and thought and then, when no one said anything, moped and moped. After a long while, Darby, in a real quiet voice, said, “Maybe we could … call her?”

  “Call who?” Dawn asked.

  “Mrs. Higginbotham,” Darby answered. “Maybe if we just explained how we feel, she’ll realize she made the wrong decision?”

  Dawn tapped her finger against her chin. “I suppose we don’t have anything to lose by trying.”

  We voted on the proposed solution, and it passed. We then decided we needed to be very clear about what we wanted to say, so we worked out a speech. Everyone took turns talking while Darby typed, and then we all edited. If we disagreed, Darby arbitrated, and Dawn got final veto power. Eventually, we were done. After we printed it, we went downstairs to Mom’s office. Mom was back in her room packing, so we were pretty sure we’d have privacy.

  Dawn was still in too sour a mood to be polite on the phone and Darby was too shy, so I was the triplet to make the call. When you’re a triplet, you have to be prepared to step in and take action whenever your siblings are overly crabby or chicken or anything like that. It’s a fair trade, since they’ll do things for me that require being still. Also, it felt good to know they had faith in me. Of course, they made me promise to stick to our speech and put the call on speakerphone so that they could hear.

  I looked up the Higginbothams in the church directory on Mom’s desk, punched the number into the phone, and swallowed hard. My left foot jiggled eight times with each ring. Finally, a familiar voice answered.

  “Higginbotham residence. Lois Higginbotham speaking.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Higginbotham. This is Delaney Brewster. How are you?” My foot was still jiggling, making my voice shake a little.

  “I’m fine, Delaney.” She sounded surprised. “To what do I owe this courtesy?”

  “Um … You don’t owe anything. I’m just calling to talk.”

  “Yes. Why are you calling me at home, Delaney? Is something wrong?”

  “No. Well … yes. Kinda. I mean …” Darby and Dawn could tell I was about to start rambling all over the place, so they started jabbing their fingers toward our prepared script. I cleared my throat. “You see, Mrs. Higginbotham, I was calling about the casting decisions for the pageant.”

  “Yes?”

  “I truly believe my sisters and I did a good job at the audition. We practiced hard and I know I walked a little too fast, but I can keep on practicing that, and if my face gets twitchy I can always tie a bandana —”

  Dawn shoved the paper in my face and made mad eyes at me. Darby made begging motions with her hands.

  “The three of you were marvelous,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “You did a great job and you’ll be beautiful angels. Is that all?”

  “No. It’s just … We didn’t want to be angels. We wanted to be the Three Wise Men.” Again Dawn waved the script in front of me and stomped her foot. “I mean, the Three Wise People.”

  “I see.”

  “So, um … is there any chance that you might reconsider your casting decisions?”

  There was a noise like wind as she sighed into the phone. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Delaney. If I give you three the parts, I would be disappointing three new people. Those boys wanted to be in the pageant, too, let’s not forget. And that’s not fair to them, is it?”

  “Um …” I didn’t know what to say. I looked over at Dawn and Darby to see what they thought. Darby was nodding slowly and sadly, as if she agreed, but Dawn was shaking her head and frowning.

  But Mrs. Higginbotham didn’t wait for me to answer. “It’s just not possible for me to make changes at this point,” she said. “I’m sure you understand.”

  “I … suppose I do?” I wasn’t sure what to say. I had no idea how I felt and wasn’t sure how to speak for all of us. But it seemed like I had no choice. Mrs. Higginbotham made it seem like I had to say I understood — even though I didn’t.

  “You three will be marvelous angels.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Yes. Oh! And tell your mother to bring sugar cookies. Someone else is bringing chocolate chip. Bye now!”

  “What a waste of time,” Dawn grumbled after I hung up.

  “She sort of had a point,” Darby said. “If she tries to make us happy, she’ll just make others unhappy. It’s a no-win situation.”

  “I guess there’s nothing we can do,” I said.

  “But … but …” Dawn’s face looked mad and helpless at the same time. She moved her mouth as if she was going to say something, then suddenly gave up, made a growling noise, and marched back upstairs.

  Dawn doesn’t like losing. None of us do, but especially Dawn. I knew it wasn’t just the fact that we didn’t get the parts we wanted that bothered her. It was that it hadn’t been a fair fight. We can’t help it if we’re girls instead of boys.

  It looked like we were stuck being swaying, frowning, overruled angels instead of Wise People. Just like Mom would be making cookies instead of cobbler. And we were getting cheated out of a few days with Lily. And we wouldn’t get to see Aunt Jane.

  So far, this was not shaping up to be a very merry Christmas.

  Writing, like camping, can be a messy, wondrous, sometimes scary, and often joy-filled test of endurance. I could not have gotten through this project without guidance from many terrific people.

  Huge thanks go to Erin Black, David Levithan, Yaffa Jaskoll, Brooke Shearouse, Antonio Gonzalez, Lizette Serrano, Emily Heddleson, Melissa Schirmer, and the entire team at Scholastic.

  Erin Murphy, you are my flashlight beacon. Forever thanks go to you, Dennis Stephens, Tara Gonzalez, Kirsten Cappy, and all the other great minds at EMLA.

  Help with research came in many forms. Biggest thanks goes to my father, Jim Ford, who started taking me camping and fishing as soon as I could walk. Other key help and encouragement came from Cynthia Leitich Smith, Nikki Loftin, Becka Oliver, Beth Sample, Clare Dunkle, Gillian Redfearn, Samantha Clark, Kendall Miller, Tony Burnett, Jordan Smith, and all my fellow writers with Austin SCBWI and the Writers’ League of Texas.

  This story is, in many ways, an amalgam of past camping adventures. For those key memories, I must thank Esther Ford, Amanda Ford, Jason Ford, Renee Ziegler, Fletcher Barton, Owen Ziegler, and Sage Barton; extended family who gathered at Silver Bay YMCA in 2016, including Nancy Moore, Joe T. Moore, Charles Bush, Judy Bush, Bob Lewis, Helen Lewis, T. Ann Nolan, E. A. Nolan, Laura Bush, Justin Bush, Harmony Huntington, David Carnahan, Tim Barton, Sidney Barton, Carolyn Carcasi, and various offspring and grandoffspring; and the Quiet Hill Ranch gang, including Alvaro Rodriguez, Mike Guentzel, Susan LaRonde, Courtney Havenwood, Jay Landers, Owen and Jodi Egerton, Jim and Cindy Whatley, the creature alternately known as Donny the Donkey and Hank Williams IV, and all the children, hooligans, and critters involved in those campouts.

  One nice thing about writing a series is that I can include names that I accidentally left out of previous acknowledgments. Thank you, Gerald and Charlotte Barton, for sharing tales that led to a key aha! moment.

  With this endeavor, as with everything, huge credit goes to my husband for his patience, keen insight, and mad sandwich-making skills. Thank you, Chris. I love this adventure we’re on.

  And finally, extra special thanks goes to the Kimbro family. I love you, Tammy. Sparkle on.

  Like the Brewster triplets, Jennifer Ziegler is a native Texan and a lover of family, history, barbecue, and loyal dogs. Although she only has one sister, she does know what it is like to have four kids living in the same house. She is the author of Revenge of the Flower Girls and Revenge of the Angels, as well as books for older readers, including Sass & Serendipity and How Not to Be Popular. Jennifer lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, author Chris Barton, and their four
children.

  Don’t miss any adventures with The Brewster Triplets!

  Revenge of the Flower Girls

  Revenge of the Angels

  Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Ziegler

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, May 2017

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  Cover photographs by Michael Frost, © 2017 Scholastic Inc.

  Cover background stock photo: © Skylines/Shutterstock

  Author photo by Sam Bond

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-09121-2

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