Church Camp Chaos

by Annie Tipton

  “Isaac, would you pray for the meal?” Pops asked.

  Isaac dropped the Brontosaurus-shaped nugget he was about to stuff into his mouth and nodded solemnly before folding his hands and bowing his head.

  “Dear God,” Isaac began. “Thank You that Pops has brothers and a sister now, and that he doesn’t have to play alone anymore. Thank You, God, that I don’t have to play alone either—because You gave me a sister. And also she is fun to bug sometimes.”

  EJ peeked at Isaac and saw that he was peeking at her, too. They surprised each other and quickly shut their eyes tight. Isaac continued to pray.

  “Thank You for Nana and Pops and their sweet Winnebago and this fun trip to see America and the mall, too. Amen.”

  “And bless this food to our bodies. In Jesus’ name, amen.” Nana added.

  EJ picked up a buffalo wing drumstick and bit into it, immediately feeling the heat of the spicy sauce on her tongue—quite a bit hotter than she’d expected.

  Pops saw the shocked expression on EJ’s face as she swallowed the first bite of chicken before grabbing her glass of water to take a gulp. “That stuff will put hair on your chest, DG. You sure you can handle it?”

  “I’m an adult now, Pops. I order from the adult menu,” EJ said, determination in her voice. “I will conquer this plate of buffalo wings if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Then she whispered so only Pops could hear, “Would you get Candace to bring me another glass of water, please?”

  The crowded restaurant waits in hushed anticipation while extreme eater EJ Payne mentally prepares for the world record she will attempt to break by consuming the spiciest buffalo wings on the face of the earth.

  “I’m dedicating this record to my best friend, Macy,” EJ says to the crowd. “One time I watched her eat a whole jalapeño pepper in one bite! It made her eyes water and her nose run, but she loved it. If she can do that, I can do this!”

  The wings EJ will be eating are so spicy that she has to wear plastic gloves while handling the food, or her skin could blister and break out in a rash. She’s been preparing her whole life for this attempt, most recently by trying her father’s spicy Sriracha sauce when he isn’t looking.

  “Guinness Book of World Records, here I come!”

  EJ picks up a wing in each hand, takes a deep breath, and dives in.

  Chapter 5

  WHO’RE YOU CALLING CHICKEN?

  June 21

  Dear Diary,

  Nana and Pops are driving back to Ohio today. It’s been great having them here for the past week, but knowing I won’t see them until at least Christmas makes me super sad. We’ll still have our weekly video chats (and those are fantastic), but it’s just not the same as having them here. I think Bert can tell I’m bummed, too, because he’s being an extra-good furry friend. Like last night when Nana tucked me into bed and I felt like I wanted to cry while I gave her a hug. Bert trotted into my bedroom with his favorite stuffed animal in his mouth—the green one with a long neck that looks like if a giraffe and a salamander had a baby (a galamander? or maybe a salaffe?). Bert stood next to my bed and looked up at me with a “I think you need this more than me right now” face, and he let me take the toy from him (something he never does without a fight). I love that pooch so much.

  Isaac’s been whiney and annoying today, which is strange, because even though he is always supremely annoying, he doesn’t usually complain much. My brother has a lot of faults, but one good thing about him is that he is generally a pretty happy kid. If he’s acting weird because he’s sad that Nana and Pops are leaving, I can’t really blame him.

  EJ

  EJ plodded down the steps to the living room, her feet feeling like heavy bricks. She inhaled and opened her eyes wider to try not to look as sad as she felt.

  As she rounded the turn in the steps, she saw Mom, Dad, Nana, and Pops standing in a tight circle in the living room. Pops was speaking quietly—almost in a whisper—and EJ could barely make out his words. Suddenly she felt like she was walking into something she probably wasn’t supposed to, but instead of going back upstairs, she dropped to her hands and knees and inched her way down the last few steps to hide behind the couch to listen.

  “… We give You control, Father,” Pops prayed, his voice sincere and urgent. “I pray that Tabby and David would seek Your wisdom in this situation. And we ask that You would make it clear to them what You want them to do with this opportunity….”

  What situation? What opportunity? EJ wondered.

  “… It’s in Jesus’ name we ask these things …”

  No, Pops! Talk more about the “situation”!

  “Amen.”

  EJ peeked around the corner of the couch, careful not to be seen. She saw Mom and Nana in a tight embrace, Nana whispering something to Mom and tears streaming down Mom’s face. Pops and Dad shook hands that ended in a hug. Something didn’t sit right with EJ. This wasn’t just a normal tearful good-bye to send off Nana and Pops.

  Mom and Nana dried their eyes and smiled at each other, hugging once again, and then the four adults made their way through the front door to the driveway where the Winnebago sat, starting to say their good-byes.

  EJ waited until they were out the door and their backs were turned before she stood from her hiding spot.

  “EJ! Isaac! Nana and Pops are leaving! Come say good-bye!” Dad called.

  “Coming!” EJ said, a little too brightly, still trying not to look as sad—or now as curious—as she felt. EJ went outside and rushed to Nana, wrapping her arms around her grandmother’s waist in a tight squeeze. “Can’t you stay another day?”

  “I wish we could, sweetie,” Nana said, hugging EJ and giving her a kiss on the head. “But I can’t wait for our next video chat. Are we on for Wednesday?”

  “Absolutely,” EJ said.

  EJ reluctantly let go of Nana’s waist, turned, and jumped up into Pops’s outstretched arms.

  “Whoa there, easy on the old man!” Pops laughed. He held her in midair then hugged her tight. “You are a gem, you know that, DG?”

  “You’re a gem, too, Pops,” EJ said, kissing him on the cheek. “A seventy-two-karat diamond.”

  “Too expensive for my blood—I’m no Richard Rich.” Pops smiled and set EJ back on the ground. “Now where’s that grandson of ours?”

  Isaac stood inside the front door, pressing his nose against the screen so it looked like a pig snout.

  “Buddy, come out here to say good-bye,” Mom said, motioning for him to come.

  “No,” he said sullenly.

  “You heard your mom,” Dad said a little more sternly. “Get out here to say good-bye to Nana and Pops.”

  Silence.

  Mom and Dad gave each other the “he’s your son” look that EJ knew so well.

  “Now, Isaac!” Dad meant business this time.

  The screen door squeaked open, and Isaac emerged, walking slowly toward the them, one hand under his Batman T-shirt and one on his head, like he was going to do his “I can scratch my head and rub my belly at the same time” trick. But instead of grinning, patting, and rubbing, he was whimpering and scratching.

  “What is it, Isaac? What’s wrong?” Mom kneeled to get down on his level.

  “My throat hurts, Marmalade,” Isaac said, looking pitiful. “And I itch … bad.”

  Mom lifted up Isaac’s T-shirt and found the culprit of the itchiness: red, raised bumps on his skin.

  EJ took a step away from her brother. She was sure he’d contracted some terrible disease from playing in the dirt and picking up bugs and worms and other disgusting things.

  “Is this what I think it is?” Mom looked up at Nana, who crouched down for a closer look. Nana put her hand on Isaac’s forehead.

  “Red spots and a fever. Just like when you had them as a kid.” Nana nodded. “But didn’t they get shots for this before they started kindergarten?”

  “I do remember the doctor said the vaccine isn’t effective for every kid. And
mine are exceptional in more ways than one.” Mom grinned weakly, pulling Isaac in for a hug. EJ thought her brother must’ve been feeling sick, because he rarely let Mom hug him like that—especially in front of other people.

  “Well, buddy, it looks like you’ve got chicken pox,” Mom said. “You’ll only get it this one time, and then you don’t have to ever get it again.”

  “The bad news is you don’t actually get to lay eggs or sprout feathers,” Dad said, acting extremely disappointed at this fact. “There’s not really anything too chicken-y about chicken pox.”

  “Oh, bummer,” Isaac said. “I would like to have talons instead of fingers to help me scratch these itches.”

  Mom whispered something in Isaac’s ear, and EJ started thinking about what animal characteristics she would want. Definitely not talons. Maybe wings, but only the kind that would let her fly. Hummingbird wings maybe. Or an opossum tail that she could hang upside down from. Or an owl’s night vision. The possibilities were endless….

  Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, EJ saw something streaking toward her.

  EJ ducks and puts her arms over her head as an out-of-control chicken takes a leap at her, its sharp talons outstretched and feathers flying.

  “ISAAC!” she shouts at the chicken. “Dad said you wouldn’t turn into a chicken!”

  Now back on the ground, the Isaac chicken cocks its head, zeroing a beady black eye in on EJ like it wants to take another go at her in an insane game of poultry tag.

  “Baaach, baach, baach!” the fowl responds, a crazed look in its eye. Extending its wings in a flightless flap, the Isaac chicken runs at EJ. She doesn’t know whether to try to fight it off or flee, so she just freezes and ends up in a feathery chicken embrace, Isaac’s wings pinning EJ’s arms down to her sides.

  EJ snaps out of her daydream and realizes her chicken-poxed brother is actually hugging her. “Ew, no!” she shouts as she pries Isaac’s arms open so she can get away from him. “What are you doing, you little creep? You’re going to give me chicken pox!”

  “Mom told me to!” Isaac pointed at Mom and used his other hand to scratch his shoulder through his T-shirt.

  EJ looked at Mom, who was trying to hide a smile behind her hand. Dad, Nana, and Pops just outright grinned at her.

  “What gives?” EJ put her hands on her hips and glared at Mom. “You want him to infect me?”

  “Actually, I do,” Mom said. “EJ, you haven’t had chicken pox yet, and if the vaccine doesn’t work on Payne genes, the sooner you get sick, the better.”

  “Why?” EJ demanded.

  “You’re going to church camp in a few short weeks,” Dad said. “So the sooner you get chicken pox, the sooner you can get over them.”

  Camp. The thought that Isaac’s chicken pox plague could keep her from going to Camp Christian gave her the resolve she needed. EJ swallowed to check if she had even a hint of a sore throat yet.

  Nothing.

  An idea—perhaps the most disgusting idea EJ had ever had in her life—suddenly popped into her brain.

  “Hey, Isaac, you know what would be good for your sore throat?” EJ asked.

  “What?”

  “A cherry popsicle,” EJ said, shuddering at what she was about to suggest. “How about we go get one and share it?”

  “Share it, like Isaac takes a lick and then you take a lick?” Dad asked, obviously shocked that EJ would think of such a thing.

  “Uh, yeah.” EJ’s stomach lurched, and she wondered if she’d actually be able to go through with it. “I’m not letting chicken pox get in the way of camp!”

  The shared popsicle seemed to do the trick, because forty-eight hours later a tickle started in EJ’s throat. And in three days, chicken pox had arrived in full force—fever, itchy red bumps, and all. Chicken pox was downright miserable. Not only did EJ feel sick, but she was constantly uncomfortable and wanted to scratch every inch of her skin. Even the cream Mom put on the bumps to help soothe the itchiness didn’t take the feeling completely away.

  Since Isaac was a few days ahead of EJ in the chicken pox cycle, he started to feel better sooner than she did. The first day he was out of bed, he sneaked into her room uninvited.

  Isaac: [poking EJ in the arm] Hey, EJ. How many chicken pox do you have?

  EJ: [waking up from dozing] Isaac, get out. I’m sleeping.

  Isaac: No, you’re talking. You can’t be asleep if you’re talking.

  EJ: [closing her eyes and rolling over] I’m a superhero, and talking in my sleep is one of my super strengths. Get out. Isaac: I counted 106 chicken pox on me. Mom had to count my back.

  EJ: I don’t care.

  Isaac: Do you want me to count your back, EJ?

  EJ: It’s not a contest, Isaac.

  Isaac: But it could be.

  EJ: [silence]

  Isaac: One … two … three … four …

  EJ: ISAAC! OUT! NOW!

  Chapter 6

  THE SWING SET SWITCHAROO

  July 5

  Dear Diary,

  Dad built a swing set in the backyard the spring after I was born. A swing, a baby swing, a trapeze bar, monkey bars, and a clubhouse with a slide. Over the years, Isaac and I have spent so many hours out there—when we wanted to play outside and when Mom and Dad made us play outside because we were driving them nuts—and I have a ton of fun memories from those times. But the truth is, the swing set is too small for us now. (In other words, it’s lamesauce.)

  So Dad came up with a great idea for a project he’s calling “The Swing Set Switcharoo.” All winter Dad, Isaac, and I worked on plans for how we were going to take the individual pieces of the swing set and create something brand-new: a tree house in the huge oak tree in the backyard. I’m talking a sweet rope ladder, fireman’s pole, front door, curtains in the windows—all with a bird’s-eye view of the entire neighborhood. Dad says every kid needs a home away from home, and there’s nothing wrong with making it totally cool! (Seriously, my dad is the best.)

  We’ve been working on it together a few hours every weekend since school let out, and today is the day we’ll finally get it done. Just a few finishing touches, and we can call it home-sweet-tree-house!

  EJ

  P.S. Two weeks and two days till C-A-M-P!

  “EJ, would you take these out with you?” Dad handed EJ a box of three-inch screws he pulled from a drawer from his garage workbench.

  “You got it.” EJ wedged the box into the tool belt around her waist. “You need anything else to go, Dad?”

  “That’s it for now,” Dad said, picking up his own tool belt and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll join you out back in just a second.”

  EJ walked toward the side door of the garage that led to the backyard and whistled for Bert to follow her. The two strolled through the door into the sunshine of the warm summer day.

  EJ paused halfway through the yard to inspect their work so far. The tree house was about ten feet off the ground, with a rope ladder that led from the ground up to a trap door on the front porch of the tree house. The porch had a railing on all sides except the back, where there was a fireman’s pole anchored to the tree house roof—for quick escapes. The tree house itself was a one-room square building big enough for four people, and the roof was high enough that Dad could stand up inside without ducking. A door led inside from the front porch, and there were window openings on the other three walls. EJ’s favorite part of the house had been Dad’s awesome idea—a “sky hatch”—a swinging door in the roof that opened with a pulley system so they could watch the clouds by day or stargaze by night. He had gotten the idea from an old movie called Swiss Family Robinson, where a family was shipwrecked on a deserted island and had to build their own shelters to survive.

  It was almost hard for EJ to believe that the tree house was made entirely from their old swing set. In fact, the only evidence left that there ever was a swing set at all was the lone baby swing, lying on its side next to the trunk of the tree.

 
“EJ! I’m putting up my dinosaur posters on the walls.” Isaac poked his head out of the window and waved his toy hammer at her. “You’d better come and stop me!”

  “You know what Mom said!” EJ yelled up at him. “No decorating until we decide on a name!”

  “Yeah, I know.” Isaac grinned down at her with his missing-tooth smile. “I just wanted to see what you’d say.”

  “Brothers.” EJ rolled her eyes.

  EJ walked to the five-gallon bucket that was sitting on the ground at the base of the tree, set the box of screws inside, and tugged on the rope that attached the bucket to the tree house above. “Special delivery, Isaac!”

  “Oooh, yes!” Isaac pulled on the rope, and the bucket slowly rose off the ground. “I hope it’s the dinosaur-scented air freshener I ordered!”

  “Even better than that,” EJ called up. “A box of screws!”

  “You two ready to get started?” Dad called as he walked across the yard, his arms full of lumber. “All that’s left to do is get these shutters assembled and installed, and we can call this Swing Set Switcharoo finished … aroo!”

  “Dad, what do you want me to do with this baby swing?” EJ poked at the plastic swing with the handle of her hammer. “Want me to go put it on the thrift store donation pile?”

  “No, I think I’ll hang it from that limb over there.” Dad pointed to a sturdy-looking branch on the oak tree.

  “But why—“ EJ didn’t get her question out before Mom called, “I’ve got surprises for everyone!” She walked across the yard, dragging a couple of big shopping bags behind her.

  Dad’s face lit up when he saw Mom. “Isaac, come down for a minute. Let’s see what Mom made for the tree house!”

  “Be there in a second!” Isaac ran through the tree house’s door and flung himself down the fireman’s pole before sprinting to Mom, Dad, and EJ.