“Oh.” Adeline sank all the way to the ground. “That sucks.”
“They told me right before camp.”
“Seriously? Right before camp? Like, ‘We’re getting divorced, see you in two weeks’?”
“Basically. It was the day before. But still.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to go home, and my dad’s going to be gone.” I couldn’t help it. I started crying again—quietly, but there were definitely tears spilling from my eyes. Those sandbags were goners.
Adeline waited a minute in silence. Then she said, “I’m sorry, Melly.”
Somehow, it was exactly what I needed to hear. It didn’t magically fix everything, and yet, by acknowledging that things weren’t okay, it made me feel a little bit better.
“I wish I had a tissue to give you,” she said. “That’s the least I could do, right?”
“I’d use a leaf, but I’d probably pick poison ivy.” I brushed my sleeve across my eyes.
“Ah, now that I could help you with. My granny’s granny taught her all about plants, and now she’s teaching me. The good, the bad, and the itchy.”
“Oh, yeah?” My voice still quavered but was mostly back under control. “What’s that little plant there, with the round leaves and the bumpy little stalks coming out the top?” I pointed. “I see it all the time back home, but my parents say it’s just a weed.”
“Just a weed!” Adeline said, throwing up her hands in mock horror. “I’ll have you know that weed—which is called plantain, by the way—is good for all kinds of things. Sores. Bee stings. Diar-freaking-rhea. Can anything at Walgreens treat all that?”
I shook my head.
“And see those little trees with the cones of red berries? That’s sumac. You can make juice out of the berries. They’re full of antioxidants—and, okay, I’m not entirely clear on what those are, but I know they’re good for you. When I was a kid, I’d try to eat them, but they’re really sour. And fuzzy.”
“And poison ivy?” I said.
“Oh, you definitely shouldn’t eat that.”
We both laughed.
“Honestly, camp is crawling with it,” Adeline said. “Have you ever heard, ‘Leaves of three, let it be’? There are plenty of harmless plants with clusters of three leaves. But you don’t want to learn the difference the hard way. If I see any, I’ll point it out to you, so you’re prepared the next time you need to blow your nose.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”
“Do you really want to read that book? Because I can leave you alone. But if you wanted, maybe we could do something else.”
“What about you? You must have come here for a reason.” I nodded at her guitar.
“It can wait. Besides, it takes two to canoe.”
“Canoe?”
“When I need to clear my mind of all the junk, I like to take a boat and go out on the lake. Nowhere else beats it for real peace and quiet.”
“Here’s pretty good, too,” I said.
“Until random weirdos come up and start bothering you, right?” Adeline extended her shoe and tapped it against mine. It sent a tickle up my leg. “Obviously you don’t have to, but if you’d be up for it . . . I’d like that. And I think you’d like it, too.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What makes you think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess there’s something about you.”
Adeline was only teasing again. I knew that. But something about her tone, and the way her brown eyes sparkled, sent a flutter through my stomach—like how the wind rustles through a pile of leaves, sending them dancing into the air for a moment before they drift back to the ground. I looked at her hard, trying to understand. But I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, so how was I supposed to recognize it when I saw it?
Whatever. She was right: I was done stewing. I was ready for peace. “Okay. I’m in.”
Adeline hopped up and held out a hand. Leaves swirling inside me, I took it.
Eleven
At Joan Jetty, Adeline waved at the bronze-skinned, ponytailed counselor standing ankle deep in the water, peering out at the few boats already on the lake: a rowboat, a couple of canoes, a kayak. “Hey, Skip. Melly and I are going to take out a canoe, okay?”
“Great,” Skip said. She waded back onto the shore. “Have you ever paddled a canoe before, Melly?”
“Um, no.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands with Adeline. Can I see your arm?”
Confused, I held out an arm. Skip took it by the wrist and turned it this way and that. “Yep, put this girl in the front of the canoe. She’ll be a powerhouse.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She means you’re strong,” Adeline said. “Melly’s a drummer.”
“That explains it,” Skip said. “In a nutshell, Melly: person in the front of the canoe’s the motor. Good to have lots of power up there. Person in the back’s the steering wheel. In any case, it’s good for the more experienced paddler to sit in back. Less chance you’ll end up in a patch of stinging nettles.”
“Don’t scare her. Besides, I’ve told you, nettles are more helpful than harmful.” Adeline winked at me. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been coming to Camp Rockaway, but it was obvious she’d known Skip quite a while. I didn’t think I could ever talk to a grown-up the way Adeline was talking to Skip—almost like they were friends. But then, Adeline often sounded older than most thirteen-year-olds I knew. I wondered why. Was she just naturally mature or something?
“Helpful or not,” Skip said, “you don’t want the rash that comes with them. If you’re going to get stuck somewhere, let it be in a patch of water lilies. Just don’t—”
“Pick them. We know, we know,” Adeline said. “Take only pictures. Leave only footprints. I’m sure you were a wonderful Girl Scout, Skip.”
“Thanks, smart mouth. Since you mention it, I was.”
We took off our shoes and socks. Skip helped us find life jackets and paddles in the boathouse. There was already a line of canoes sitting at the water’s edge, half in and half out of the water. Skip demonstrated how to paddle and get in and out, crouching so the canoe wouldn’t tip too much.
“All right, all right,” Adeline said. “Before the sun sets.”
Skip turned to me. “Does she talk to everyone this way, or am I special?” I shrugged, and she laughed. “Rhetorical question, Melly. Climb in. I’ll push you off.”
Adeline climbed in first, moving to the back. I sat in front, balancing the paddle across my knees. Skip lifted the bow out of the sand and pushed us into the water. “Have fun out there,” she said, “and remember, three long whistles means it’s time to come back to shore.”
I paddled backward: dip, push, lift. Even though the motion felt awkward, the canoe sliced through the water surprisingly fast. When we cleared the swimming area, Adeline called, “We should be able to turn around now.”
“What do I do?”
“Nothing! Just start paddling forward. I’m steering, remember?”
Sure enough, the canoe’s nose swung gently to the left. I found my rhythm, dipping the paddle alongside the canoe and pulling backward in a strong, smooth motion. Then I lifted and swung the paddle around to the front. Water dripped from its blade in a little semicircle. It was hard work, but it was also relaxing. As we moved away from the bustle at shore, I began to understand why Adeline liked it.
We paddled toward an area where the trees looked especially thick. “Where we’re pointed?” Adeline said. “That’s the border between Camp Rockaway and the sheep farm.”
“Do we have to stay on this side?” I asked.
“Nope. The whole lake is fair game. But if we were to land on that side—well, I’ve heard some of those sheep farmers can be pretty grumpy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. I heard if they catch you on their property they’ll take a pair of shears and give you the haircut of your life.” I looked over my shoulder. As usual, Adeline was grinning.
&nbs
p; I smiled back but confessed, “My shoulder’s getting tired.”
“Switch sides,” she said. “Or if both sides are tired, rest. We’ve got nowhere to be.”
“I can keep going for a while,” I said, switching my paddle to the other side of the canoe. But I paddled slower. Adeline was right. There was no reason to hurry.
She steered us along the shore, close enough to get a good look at the cattails and water lilies that grew there but not close enough to get tangled up. Though the air was muggy, I didn’t notice any mosquitoes. I saw little flies with emerald armor and insects with long, blue slivers of bodies and long black wings—like dragonflies, but more delicate. I pointed one out to Adeline.
“They’re called damselflies,” she said. “They come out here to hunt.”
“Hunt?” I hunched my shoulders like I could protect myself.
“Other insects, not people. Beautiful but deadly,” she said cheerfully.
“How do you know all this nature stuff?” I asked. “Is it because of your grandma?”
“Partly. But also I grew up in the middle of nowhere, which helps. I’m from the UP, outside Marquette.”
Marquette. I remembered the name from her T-shirt the other day. I’d never been to the Upper Peninsula, but I nodded as if I knew just where she meant.
“What about you?” Adeline asked. “City girl, I’m guessing. Grand Rapids? Detroit?”
“Kalamazoo.” I rested my paddle on my knees and held up a hand to make the Lower Peninsula’s mitten shape, pointing to where Kalamazoo would be. “It’s not even a big city, but my parents are not remotely outdoorsy. Canoeing would blow their minds.”
Immediately I shoved the thought of them away. I was out on the lake specifically not to think about them. Silently we rocked, drifting with the breeze.
“How’d you end up at camp?” Adeline asked. “I’m guessing it wasn’t your parents’ idea.”
“It was Olivia’s.”
“And she dragged you along, too?”
“She didn’t drag me,” I said quickly. “I wanted to come. We’re best friends.”
“Relax,” Adeline said. “I was kidding. Hey.” A little splash of water hit my elbow, and I turned to see water dribbling from her fingers. “I’m really glad you’re here. You’re cool.”
“Nobody in my life has ever accused me of being cool,” I said.
“What? That doesn’t seem possible. I’ve been coming to Camp Rockaway since I was eight. I’m the expert on cool.”
“Wow,” I said. “That long?”
“Yep. This is my vacation every year.”
“From school?”
“From the rest of my life.”
I looked at her blankly. Adeline seemed way too chipper to have a troubled life. Then again, if you judged by Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, and Pollyanna, the world’s chipperest people were orphans, so go figure.
“My dad’s got PPMS. Primary progressive multiple sclerosis,” she said, as if that explained it. I knew multiple sclerosis was a kind of disease, but I didn’t know what the rest of it meant. I guessed it was especially bad. “I have to help out a lot at home, especially in the summer. Babysitting for my little brothers, cleaning house, that kind of thing.”
“Oh.” There was my answer about why Adeline sounded more grown-up than I did. She was. “Is your dad—is that why you came to camp in a taxi?”
“Getting around can be hard for him sometimes, and so can the heat. He’s got a wheelchair if he’s tired and sore, but the trails here aren’t the best for that. Add in a long drive with three kids. . . . It’s a lot to deal with.” Adeline shrugged. “So they stick me on a bus to Cadillac, and I take a taxi the rest of the way. It works.”
“Will you have to take a bus home, too?” I asked. It seemed like such a lonely journey, all the way from the UP and back, no one from her family to cheer her on at the final show.
“Nah, it’s all good. Everyone’ll be here for the show—even my granny! My point is, I can’t do a thing about dirty dishes or skinned knees while I’m here. It’s my parents’ gift to me, and I try to enjoy every minute of it, you know? Anyway, we better start moving or we’ll be in danger of hitting those nettles Skip warned us about.”
I picked up my paddle, and Adeline turned the canoe so we faced into the sun. She started humming a tune I didn’t recognize. “What is that?” I asked.
“Just a song,” Adeline said. “Am I bothering you?”
“Nope,” I said, “it’s pretty.”
I squinted ahead, then closed my eyes. I felt like we’d floated into an alternate universe, one without any drama—not my parents’, not Olivia’s, not even my own. I didn’t need to steer right now. All I had to do was paddle.
Twelve
Everyone dressed up for the open mic—as much as we could in the middle of the woods. I settled for a fresh pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt, but my bunkmates spent the better part of an hour getting ready: choosing outfits, doing hair, putting on makeup. Toni had a whole kit stashed in her suitcase, and she was happy to play the role of tent cosmetologist.
Olivia’s eyes were bright, almost feverish. “Oh my God. I am so nervous,” she said, pulling a brush through her hair for what seemed like the thousandth time. It was going to come out by the roots soon. “I wish there was somewhere to plug in a curling iron.”
“Did you bring yours?” I asked.
“No, because I knew there was nowhere to plug one in. But I’ve got to do something about my hair. I wish you were better at hair, Melly!”
“Sorry,” I said. “Maybe Toni or Shauna can help you out.”
“I’ve got you covered,” Shauna said, producing a bag full of bobby pins, clips, and elastics. “With hair like mine, you’ve got to be prepared.”
She swept Olivia’s hair into an updo with a bunch of hair spiking out of the top. It looked like a firecracker. Olivia loved it.
“Come on, Mel,” said Shauna, “can’t I do yours, too?”
“It’s too short to do anything with,” I said. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“At least let me put in a couple of butterfly clips,” Shauna said.
“And you need glitter,” Toni said. “Friends don’t let friends go out without a little sparkle.”
When Blair hollered for us to meet up in the fire circle, we all looked ready for a party, our skin glinting in the sinking pink sun.
The lights in the lodge were dim. Even the stage lights were low. Instead, an odd assortment of lamps surrounded the stage, and white holiday lights adorned the mic stands. Votive candles flickered at the tables. Everything had a cozy glow. Soft music played over the sound system.
Someone tall waved at us from across the hall, in front of the stage. “There’s Noel and the guys!” Olivia said. “Come on, Melly.”
I hurried after her. But by the time we reached them, there was only one chair left at Noel’s table.
“Hey, Olivia,” he said. His eyes skimmed over me to settle on her. I looked down at myself to make sure I was really there. Yep—just not important enough to warrant a greeting, apparently. “I’m sorry, I only saved enough seats for the band. Maybe you and your friend can sit at the next table.”
Olivia hesitated only a moment. “No,” she said, “that’s okay. Melly understands, right, Mel? It’s more important for me to sit with the band. Band solidarity. You get it, right, Melly?”
“It’s fine,” I said. At least he should know my name now. “I’ll find Toni and Shauna.”
“Thanks for understanding,” Olivia said, giving me a quick hug. “Wish me luck?”
“Luck,” I said with a quiet sigh, and she slid into the chair beside Noel.
I looked around the lodge, feeling lost. Toni and Shauna’s table was already full. I stood helplessly in the middle of the hall, looking for an empty chair next to someone I knew. I was about to give up and sit with a bunch of eight-year-old boys, steeling myself for two hours of fart jokes, when Adeline popped up a couple of tables a
way. “Melly! Over here.” She made someone scoot over so I could have the seat beside her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I told the girl who’d moved.
“Oh, Yasmina doesn’t mind, do you, Mina?” Adeline said.
It was an uncomfortable echo of Olivia’s words to Noel. But the other girl shook her head with a grin. She had long, curly black hair streaked with neon pink. I’d seen her around, but she wasn’t in Treble Cliff.
“Hi,” she said. “Yasmina. Any friend of Adeline’s—well, you fill in the rest.”
Just then Poppy stopped by our table with a pad of paper in her hand and a pen tucked over her ear. “Welcome to Café Rockaway,” she said. “May I take your drink order? We’ve got hot chocolate, lemonade, and water.”
Yasmina ordered lemonade. Adeline and I ordered hot chocolate. It wasn’t cold out, not at all. But hot chocolate was comforting, and I was in the mood to be comforted. It didn’t really bother me that Olivia wanted to sit with her band. That made total sense. But I hated the way she’d completely forgotten me the moment Noel entered her field of vision. I hated pretending the whole thing was about music and not her crush on Noel.
Adeline’s voice dragged my thoughts back to our table. “Mina and I were in the same band last year, which was awesome. But then she had to go and have another birthday, so she got bumped up to Carole Kingdom and left me behind.”
“Sorry!” Yasmina said. “But you’re obviously doing okay without me.” She turned to me. “Adeline’s told me great things about you.”
“She’s exaggerating,” I said. I hadn’t meant it to be funny, but both Yasmina and Adeline giggled. “It’s true!” I protested, and they giggled even harder.
“How can you know she’s exaggerating? You don’t even know what she said,” Yasmina pointed out. “Maybe she was praising your excellent hygiene.”
“Out here in the woods, the bar is set pretty low,” Adeline joked.
“Or maybe she’s impressed by your teeth, which you have to admit are exceptionally straight. You should’ve seen Addy’s before those braces. They looked like—”
“Enough!” Adeline slapped the table. “My orthodontia is not up for discussion. But it’s true, Melly, your teeth are very nice. Good job.”
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