“Look out for rocks!” Terry-Anne calls from behind me.
We’ve reached a part of the lake where the water is shallow and there are giant rock formations sticking out of it.
Maybe it’s because Amber and Joon are singing so loudly that they don’t hear Terry-Anne’s warning.
A crack! echoes in the air as the stern of the yellow kayak hits rock.
“What was that?” Amber shouts from the bow.
“We just hit a rock! A big one!” Joon shouts back. “I can’t steer!” Joon sounds like she is about to cry.
Terry-Anne paddles past me toward the yellow kayak. “Oh no,” I hear her say to herself as she rushes by.
Chapter Eight
The rudder on the yellow kayak is broken. It has snapped off the brace that holds it to the kayak and now dangles loosely from the cables.
“What do we do now?” Amber asks.
“Above all, don’t panic,” Terry-Anne says. She uses her whistle to alert Jenna and Maddie, who have paddled up ahead, and signals for them to turn back.
Without the rudder, Amber and Joon have trouble keeping their kayak from wobbling. They are still able to paddle, but the yellow kayak keeps shifting around, wanting to move with the wind.
Terry-Anne lines up her kayak next to Amber and Joon’s. I paddle to the other side. Amber grabs on to the edge of Terry-Anne’s kayak. Joon grabs on to mine. This way, at least, we can give the girls a rest—and keep their kayak moving straight.
“Like I told you, the first thing you need to do is stay calm,” Terry-Anne says. “It’s possible to kayak without a rudder, but you two aren’t used to it, and it takes a lot more effort. But we have to get this kayak back to the beach so I can assess the damage. I’ll need to phone the camp director and let her know what’s happened.”
The wind is against us, so it takes Amber and Joon nearly an hour to get the yellow kayak to shore. Terry-Anne and I stay nearby, encouraging the girls and giving them breaks by holding on to the kayak. Jenna and Maddie paddle in behind us.
“What about Trout Island?” Jenna asks when we are at the beach and Terry-Anne is rummaging through her dry bag for her cell phone.
“Trout Island will still be there next summer,” Terry-Anne says. “Even if someone delivered a new kayak this afternoon, there wouldn’t be time for us to paddle all the way there.”
Terry-Anne’s cell phone is inside another small dry bag. When she presses the phone to her ear, she shakes her head. Then she peers at the screen, looking for service bars. “That’s strange,” she says. “I’m not getting a signal. There’s usually service out here.”
Joon rubs her belly. “What if we run out of food?”
“We have plenty of food,” Terry-Anne assures Joon. “Right now, what we need more than food is a kayak repairman.”
I tap Terry-Anne’s shoulder. “Did you just say repairman? Because I happen to know a good repair person.”
“Princ—” Jenna stops herself. “I mean, Jelly repaired the luggage hatch on the bus.”
“And the leaky roof,” Joon adds.
Terry-Anne examines the rudder. “I’m afraid this is going to be a bigger job.”
Amber puts her hands on her hips and looks me in the eye. “Can you do it, Jelly?”
I feel five pairs of eyes on me. I want to say yes, but I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. “I’m going to need to study the problem first,” I tell the others.
Terry-Anne claps her hands. “All right then,” she says, “let’s give Jelly some time to study the problem. The rest of you can help me set up the tents. We’re camping here tonight.”
“But this beach is full of rocks,” Joon says.
“It sure is. But it’s not as if we have a choice in the matter.” Terry-Anne lifts her chin toward the densely forested area beyond the beach. “There’s no place for tents back there.”
Joon unfolds the groundsheets. Jenna snaps together the tent poles.
I try not to pay attention to the others. Instead, I go over to the yellow kayak and examine the rudder the way Terry-Anne did when we got to shore. If we had rope I might be able to tie the rudder back into place on the kayak. Only we didn’t bring any rope.
Maddie taps my shoulder. “Did you come up with a solution yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you think you’ll come up with one soon?” she asks.
“I don’t know. That is not how solutions work. You can’t rush them.”
Terry-Anne is helping Joon lay out the groundsheets. “Don’t bother Jelly,” Terry-Anne tells Maddie. “She needs to think. Why don’t you help Jenna with the tent poles?”
Examining the rudder is not helping. And it doesn’t help to think about how uncomfortable it is going to be to sleep on this rocky beach.
“Oops,” I hear someone say. When I look up, I see that Maddie has tripped.
She kicks at the rocky ground. “Dumb bark,” she mutters. She reaches down between the rocks to pick up the strip of bark she tripped on.
“Did you just say dumb bark?” I ask her.
“I tripped over this thing. I suppose I wasn’t paying attention,” Maddie says.
Amber is watching us. “It’s just a piece of bark, Angelica. Who cares?”
“I care,” I tell her. “Because thanks to Maddie, I think I just came up with a way to repair the rudder.”
“Really?” Maddie takes a bow and laughs.
I point to the forest. There is plenty of bark back there. “We can make rope from bark. Then we can tie the rudder back onto the kayak.”
Terry-Anne likes my idea. She tells us that when she took a wilderness survival course, she learned how to make lashing from bark. “Actually,” she says, taking the strip of bark from Maddie and turning it over, “it’s this fiber behind the bark that makes the best lashing. But before you start peeling bark—” Terry-Anne stops herself and raises one finger in the air. “One request, girls. I only want you taking bark from branches that are lying on the ground or from trees that are dead. Bark is like skin. It protects a tree from disease and insects, and helps it retain moisture and nutrients. Removing it from a live tree can damage it.”
Jenna and I look at each other. I know it’s because we are both remembering how I stripped the bark off the pine tree so we could collect sap.
“That was an emergency,” I tell Jenna.
“This is an even bigger emergency,” she says.
Chapter Nine
The longest strips of bark will make the best lashing. Maddie finds a long, thick poplar branch on the ground. When she tries peeling the bark off with her fingers, Terry-Anne stops her. “We’ll get longer strips if we use a knife,” she says, demonstrating with her camping knife.
Soon we are all hunting for fallen branches or dead trees. Terry-Anne doesn’t want us to hurt ourselves, so we bring our pieces to her, and she does the cutting.
Once we have a big enough pile of fiber, we go and sit by the yellow kayak, and Terry-Anne shows us how to make lashing. First she pours a little water over the fibers. “You need to keep this stuff wet. If the fiber starts to dry, it will be too hard to work with,” she explains. Terry-Anne picks out a long strip of fiber, folding it in two. One side is longer than the other. As she pinches and twists the fiber, it starts to knot up. Soon we are all making lashing.
The next step is to braid the lashing together so that it will be extra strong. Amber asks to do the braiding. “It’s exactly like braiding hair,” she says while she works.
It doesn’t take her much time to braid a nice long, strong strip. Terry-Anne tugs on each end to test it. We all clap when she nods her approval.
The others watch as I secure the rudder to the kayak, wrapping the braid around the rudder and the metal brace designed to hold it in place.
I leave enough lashing to tie a knot at the bottom.
“I don’t get it,” Amber says. “Now the rudder won’t be able to move at all, which means we won’t be able to steer. What
good is that?”
“That’s true,” I say. “The rudder won’t be able to move. But that’s my plan!” I show Amber and the others how I’ve attached the rudder to the exact middle of the stern. Then I pull on the rudder, and it doesn’t budge. “If the rudder stays in exactly this position, the kayak should move in a straight line.”
“I think Jelly’s plan is going to work,” Terry-Anne adds. “If the rudder is in position, it will help Amber and Joon to be more stable in the water and to move more quickly. Remember how hard it was paddling in a straight line without the rudder? Tomorrow morning, we should all be able to paddle straight back to camp.”
“So we won’t starve to death after all!” Joon sounds relieved.
“Speaking of starving to death,” Terry-Anne says, “how do you girls feel about veggie burgers for dinner?”
“My favorite!” Joon says.
“What food isn’t your favorite?” Amber asks her.
After we have unpacked our gear and arranged our sleeping bags in the tents, we gather farther down the beach around a fire pit. Terry-Anne is grilling burgers.
“Those kaiser rolls look delicious,” Joon says.
The sky is turning from bluish-purple to black. The air smells of firewood and lake water and roasted garlic.
“Can you please pass the mustard?” Joon asks when Terry-Anne hands the burgers around.
“I know I packed a squeeze jar of mustard,” Terry-Anne says, “but I’m afraid it’s still in one of the dry bags.”
“Is it Dijon?” Joon asks. “Dijon is my absolute favorite mustard.”
Terry-Anne is sampling one of her burgers. “I think so,” she says, between bites.
Joon pops up from her spot. “I’ll get it.”
“Watch your step. Why don’t you take my flashli—” Terry-Anne begins, but Joon is already running down the beach toward the tents.
The burgers are scrumptious. Terry-Anne is asking whether any of us want seconds when she realizes that Joon has not come back with the mustard.
“Joon?” Terry-Anne calls into the darkness. “Did you find the mustard?”
When there is no answer, Terry-Anne stands up and calls again.
Still no answer.
When Terry-Anne turns on her flashlight, I notice she is chewing her lip. “I’m going to look for her,” she says.
Amber offers to come along.
“Okay,” Terry-Anne says. “The rest of you stay here by the campfire. We’ll roast marshmallows once Joon’s back.”
Maddie comes up with the idea of telling stories. “That’s what you’re supposed to do ’round a campfire, right?” she says.
Jenna nudges me. “You start, Jelly!”
For once, my heart isn’t into telling stories. “What do you think is taking them so long?” I ask.
That’s when we hear footsteps on the rocks—and Terry-Anne’s voice. “Let’s bring her this way,” Terry-Anne is saying. Her flashlight casts an eerie pool of white light. Terry-Anne and Amber have found Joon, but she is slumped over, propped up between them like a bag of potatoes.
“Is she dead?” Jenna asks.
“Of course I’m not dead.” Joon’s voice sounds shaky.
“We found her on the ground. She must’ve tripped,” Amber says.
“She may have hit her head when she fell. It could be a concussion.” Terry-Anne is chewing on her lip again. “I’m going to need to make sure she stays awake tonight. I have to keep an eye on her till we can get back to camp in the morning.”
“What can we do to help?” I ask.
“I’ll manage,” Terry-Anne says.
“What if you get too tired and you fall asleep?” Amber asks.
“You have a point,” Terry-Anne tells her. “Maybe you girls can do shifts with me. I don’t want any of you to be too tired to paddle tomorrow.”
Chapter Ten
Which is how we end up pulling our second all-nighter. Although, officially, it may not count as an all-nighter since Terry-Anne only lets each of us stay up for three hours at a time.
I’m on the first shift. When I look at how pale Joon is, and how her hands won’t stop shaking, I just want to distract her. My storytelling urge comes back. What better way is there to keep Joon awake?
Terry-Anne puts a pot of coffee on the fire.
I’m a little surprised when Terry-Anne wants to hear stories about the royal court. “I know they’re make-believe,” she says as she pokes a marshmallow onto the end of a long twig, “but that doesn’t mean they can’t be good stories.”
“Do you want to hear about the royal greenhouse?” I ask Joon and Terry-Anne. “It’s full of exotic flowers, like Bougainvillea, and butterflies. Monarchs, of course.” Even Joon, whose head is hurting, laughs when I say that.
“One day,” I continue, “a giant frog—the biggest frog I ever saw—he was the size of a car—”
“Was he really that big?” Terry-Anne asks, playing along.
“Bigger,” I say. “He was the size of a car and a half. Well, that giant frog broke into the royal greenhouse. He shattered a giant glass window, and the monarchs escaped. Frogs eat butterflies, so you can’t blame those butterflies for wanting out. What the monarchs didn’t know was that it was winter. They’d lived all their lives in the greenhouse, so they didn’t know a thing about winter. Poor creatures were so cold, every part of them shivered. Even their antennae.”
“Let me guess what happened next,” Terry-Anne says. “Princess Angelica saved the butterflies.”
“Don’t spoil Jelly’s story.” Joon sounds a little stronger.
“Princess Angelica didn’t have a butterfly net handy,” I say, picking up where I left off. “So she used a wire coat hanger.”
“How did she make a butterfly net from a coat hanger?” Terry-Anne asks.
“She bent the wire coat hanger to make a round frame. Did I mention the fancy draperies at the royal court?”
“You told us the curtains in Princess Angelica’s room were purple velvet,” Joon says.
“That’s right. But the curtains in the living room were made of the softest gauze. Perfect for a butterfly net. Well, Princess Angelica asked her lady- and gentleman-in-waiting to cut a little fabric off the living room curtains. Just from the bottom, so no one would notice. Then she caught every single butterfly and returned them all to the greenhouse.”
“But what about the giant frog—the one who was the size of one and a half cars? And what about the shattered window? Couldn’t the butterflies have flown back out?” Joon asks.
I decide it’s a good sign she is paying such close attention to my story.
“Frogs eat butterflies, so the frog took off into the winter weather, following the butterflies as they escaped. And Princess Angelica made a new window. She used the gauzy fabric curtains in place of the glass. A temporary solution, of course, but it worked until the new window arrived. The king and queen put in a rush order.”
It’s after midnight, and I can feel my head starting to slump over. Terry-Anne says my shift is over and it’s time for me to get some rest.
When I wake up, the sun has just begun to rise—and Joon and Terry-Anne are still awake. Amber is finishing her shift.
There is still no cell-phone service, and Terry-Anne wants us to start paddling right after breakfast.
Joon is too weak to do much paddling, but the rudder on the yellow kayak holds, and Amber and Jenna are able to paddle it quickly back to camp in spite of the wind. We make it back in time for lunch.
When the camp director learns what has happened, she gets the camp doctor, who examines Joon.
“I think she may have a mild concussion,” the doctor tells us. “It was a good decision to keep Joon up all night. She’ll need lots of rest now as she recovers. But I can assure you, she is going to be fine. Even so, I’ve contacted her parents. They’re on their way now to pick her up.”
We all cheer when we hear that Joon will be all right. But we’re also sad about her
leaving camp early.
The doctor raises one finger in the air. He has something more to say. “Is one of you really a princess?” he asks.
I nearly say it’s me, but I don’t want to get accused of telling lies.
The doctor peers at us through his glasses. “I know Joon is overtired, but during the examination she kept mentioning a friend who was a princess. Something about giant frogs and butterfly nets made of gauze curtains. I must say, it was a fascinating story.”
Amber points at me. “Joon must have been talking about Jelly,” she tells the doctor. “Aka Princess Angelica.”
Chapter Eleven
I hate to give back my purple feather pen, but I know it’s the right thing to do. So I bring it to the infirmary, where Joon’s parents have come to collect her. The curtains are closed because the doctor wants Joon to rest in a dark room before she and her parents set out for home.
“I’m not really a princess,” I tell Joon’s parents, holding out the purple pen they sent me.
“You’re not?” Joon’s father says. “What about that letter you sent us, with the royal seal?”
“It was a pretend seal,” I say, hanging my head. “I’m sorry that I lied. I should not have misled you. It’s just that…” I stop myself. I am remembering what my dad told me about apologizing. It’s just that is another way of saying but.
Joon is lying on a cot with a cool washcloth on her forehead. When she speaks, she tries not to move so the washcloth won’t fall off. “Jelly is good at making up stories,” she says. “She’s also good at repairing things.
“Terry-Anne told us,” Joon’s mother says. Then she turns to face me. “We’re very grateful that the stories you made up helped keep Joon awake last night, and that you were able to repair the rudder on the kayak.”
Joon’s father nods in agreement and exchanges a look with his wife. “Because you have been so good to our daughter, we would like you to keep the pen. Even if you’re not really royalty.”
Princess Angelica, Camp Catastrophe Page 3