I sighed heavily. “I was standing out in the hot sun playing softball and suddenly I began to feel faint—”
“Nancy said you looked fine when you left and didn’t say anything about feeling ill.”
I blushed. How was I going to get out of this one? “I didn’t want to worry her?” I suggested.
“Well, did you or didn’t you want to worry her?” asked Mrs. Wright quietly.
I scowled down at my hands. I really hadn’t meant to cause trouble. I just didn’t want to be the server. I wondered if I should tell her that, but she started talking again.
“You’ve been here just two days, and I feel it is only fair to give you a chance to get your bearings.” She paused for a minute and looked a little less angry. “Are you homesick?” she asked finally.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m always available if you want to talk.”
“O.K.”
“You can stay here until Siesta starts. But from now on I expect you to show up at every meal and every one of your activities, O.K.?”
“O.K.”
Mrs. Wright patted me on the head and left. I do not pat people on the head, because that is what you do to dogs. I do not even pat Muffin on the head.
I leaned back against the wall and waited for Siesta.
Chapter 8
The Case of the Missing Clothes
I STOOD ON THE sandy shore of Lake Oconomowoc. I was wearing my new Speedo suit. The one with red palm trees all over it.
A bunch of kids were splashing around in the lake several feet away. Some were swimming. Some were wading. They all looked happy. They looked like kids who would have their pictures taken for the Camp Arrowhead pamphlet to show how much fun it is to swim in Lake Oconomowoc.
I kept scanning the water for long, dark shapes. When I finally saw one, I inhaled for a healthy scream before I realized the shape belonged to a stick. I let out my breath in a trembling sigh. Even if someone were to drain the whole lake and show me that no snakes were left behind, I wouldn’t go in when it was filled up again. A snake could always fall out of a tree, or slither in accidentally—and you would never know it until that snake was wrapping itself around you…
Something touched my bare shoulder.
I gasped and jumped.
“Oh, Marcia,” I cried. I sounded hysterical. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, honey. Listen, the beginning group is meeting over there.” She pointed to a crowd of Lower Girls, most of whom were about six or seven years old, all standing in shallow water at one end of the “beach.”
“O.K.”
“So grab your towel and come on over.” Marcia smiled. She had pretty brown eyes. I wanted her to like me, but not if it meant risking snakes.
“Oh, I…I left my towel in the beachhouse. I’ll be right there.”
I really had left my towel in the beachhouse. (On purpose, of course, but why split hairs?) It was in one of the changing rooms. I walked back as slowly as I could, pausing in the doorway to see what Marcia was doing with the Lower Girls. They had their faces in the water and were blowing bubbles.
I took my time getting the towel. As I was leaving, I heard someone behind me and looked back over my shoulder.
“Hi, Kammy,” said Susie cheerfully.
I was surprised to see her there, since it meant she was late for her lesson. And Miss Susie Goody-Two-Shoes Benson was always On Time, according to Emily.
“Hi,” I said.
“What group are you in?” she asked as we headed back to the sand.
“Oh, that one,” I said pointing in the general direction of the end of the beach.
It did not fool Susie.
“The baby group?” She was incredulous. “You’re kidding. You can’t swim?” She snickered. “What a baby. You won’t undress in front of anyone, you can’t swim, you don’t even know enough to go to meals.”
“Shut up,” I hissed. “Who do you think you are? Miss Perfection?”
“Miss Perfection! Ha ha. You don’t know names yet either.”
“I do, too, Susan Benson. And I’d like to know why you are late for swimming, if you are so great.”
We were squared off, each armed with a towel. I wished mine were wet enough to whip her a good rat tail.
“If it’s so important to you,” Susie sputtered, “you might as well know I was getting Nancy’s towel for her. She left it behind and asked me to get it.” Susie was smirking.
“Well, if you like being a slave…” I said calmly, and left both the sentence and Susie’s mouth hanging as I stalked over to Marcia.
Susie was going to get it.
I managed not to go in the water during the whole lesson. Marcia was so busy keeping track of the other kids (six-year-olds run around a lot) that she hardly noticed me. When we had to wait on line to do things one at a time, I just kept moving to the back. The Lower Girls didn’t notice, and Nancy always had her hands full with whomever she was teaching.
At one point, when we were all strung out along the shore, Marcia yelled, “O.K., Kammy, your turn!” I shoved little Patsy McClure in front of me and yelled, “No, I think Patsy’s next.” Patsy dashed gaily off to Marcia and I breathed a sigh of relief.
It was just a few minutes later when I noticed Mrs. Wright standing in the door of the beachhouse. She was staring at me. I expected her to come barreling down to the Beginners and demand to know why my suit was dry. But she didn’t, even though I was becoming more and more convinced my application said I was a good swimmer. Camp directors always ask for that kind of information, don’t they?
Mrs. Wright reminded me of the Wicked Witch of the West, biding her time. I wondered when she would strike.
As soon as the whistle blew signaling the end of lessons, I tore over to the Advanced group and pulled Emily away by the arm.
“Hey!” she cried.
“Ssh,” I said, and dragged her all the way to the beach-house, giving her a fast rundown on what Susie had said earlier.
“That little rat!” exploded Emily.
“Want to help me play a trick on her?” I asked.
“Anything,” said Emily, grinning devilishly. “She did some real stinky things to me last summer.”
“All right. Get changed as fast as you can and meet me right outside the door.”
I was in and out of my clothes and standing by the beachhouse in a flash. The other campers were streaming past me now, heading in to change and shower. I gazed out over the beach and caught sight of Susie helping Nancy collect kickboards and goggles and flippers. The little swine.
“She’ll learn,” I said under my breath.
Emily joined me. I pointed Susie out to her and quickly explained what we were going to do.
Five minutes later Susie finally gave up her maid duties and started for the beachhouse. A lot of the campers had left by then, but plenty were still dressing. Emily and I pretended to be engaged in conversation as Susie walked by us.
“Are you sure she always showers?” I whispered when she was out of earshot.
“Positive,” Emily whispered back. “She’s perfect, remember?”
We peeked around into the beachhouse just in time to see Susie deposit her beautifully folded and cared-for alligator clothes on a stool outside the shower. Soon she tossed her nearly dry bathing suit on the pile. When we heard the water go on, Emily nonchalantly picked up all of Susie’s clothes, including her bathing suit, and ran them back to Misty Mountains.
Then it was just a matter of waiting. I milled around with the fifteen or so other kids until we heard a shout.
“Hey!”
The beachhouse grew quiet.
“Hey!” Susie yelled again, from the shower stall.
“What?” someone asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something is wrong. My clothes are gone!”
“Gone!” I cried. “You don’t mean it. Susie, is that you?”
“Of course it is, and I
can tell that’s you, Kammy, and if you took my clothes I’ll kill you!”
“Me? Why would I take your clothes? I don’t even like them. For goodness’ sake, everybody spread out and start looking.”
Emily arrived breathlessly back at the beachhouse just as all the girls began searching through the dressing rooms, under benches, and in their own duffel bags. She joined the search with a straight face.
Periodically, Susie’s arm would reach out the door to the shower stall and feel around on the stool to see if her clothes had magically reappeared. And each time she felt the empty stool, she’d yell some more. Things like “Come on, I’m freezing! Those were my best clothes. I’ll get whoever did this.” And finally she just started sort of screaming in general.
In the middle of all the pandemonium, Mrs. Wright, Marcia, and Nancy walked in.
Mrs. Wright clapped her hands twice.
Silence.
“What is going on in here?” she asked.
Susie started up again. “My clothes are gone,” she wailed. “Someone took them. Everyone is so mean. I’m freezing!”
“Calm down, Susie,” said Mrs. Wright.
Nancy tossed a couple of extra towels in to her.
“Does anybody know where Susie’s clothes are?” Mrs. Wright asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “That’s why we’ve been looking for them for the last ten minutes.”
Mrs. Wright narrowed her eyes at me.
“Susie,” she went on, crossing to the shower and yelling over the stall, “do you have any idea what happened to your clothes?”
“Kammy took them,” Susie answered promptly.
“Are you sure? Did you see her take them?”
“Well, no…but I know she did. She’s such a baby.”
“That’s enough, Susie. Kamilla, what do you have to say about this?”
“I don’t know where her clothes are. I was just in here changing and suddenly Susie started screaming about her clothes.”
Emily cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me. I wasn’t here or anything when it happened, but…” She paused as if she were too nervous to go on.
“Yes, Emily?” coaxed Mrs. Wright.
Emily lowered her eyes to the floor. “Well, I don’t want to embarrass Susie,” she whispered, “but remember last year when she couldn’t find her clothes after swimming and it turned out she had changed in the cabin instead of the beachhouse, and left her clothes there?”
“No…I’m not sure I do remember,” said Mrs. Wright slowly.
“That’s because it never happened,” shouted Susie. “She’s lying.”
Emily let her lower lip quiver just enough to be noticeable, and hung her head.
“That’s all right, dear,” soothed Mrs. Wright. “Memories can be tricky. Even if it didn’t happen, it’s a good suggestion about what might have happened today. Susie, are you sure you changed here?”
“Yes. How could I forget? Anyway, I never change in the cabin.”
“Mrs. Wright,” I said meekly, stepping forward, “I—I could go up to the cabin and—and just, you know, check. I wouldn’t mind. Really.”
“Well, Kammy, that would be very kind of you. That’s a nice offer.”
I ran to Misty Mountains and back in record time. Emily had dumped the whole pile of clothes on Susie’s bunk, so I gathered it up and presented it proudly to Mrs. Wright.
“The problem is solved,” I announced grandly.
“Thank you very much, Kammy.” Mrs. Wright beamed at me. “Here you go, Susie,” she said.
The door to the shower stall opened up about two inches. Susie stuck her arm out and snatched in the clothes. She didn’t say a word.
A few minutes later Emily and I were laughing hysterically and dancing around outside. We were patting ourselves on the back for fooling Susie.
Suddenly a triumphant “Aha!” was shouted from the beachhouse.
Susie.
Emily and I looked at each other warily.
“I think we better get out of here,” Emily whispered.
But we didn’t have time.
“Kamilla and Emily. Would you please come inside for a moment?”
Mrs. Wright faced us in the beachhouse. She was holding Susie’s bathing suit. “If Susie changed in the cabin,” she said, “I would like to know how she managed to leave her bathing suit there with her clothes and then come to the lake for swimming lessons. I don’t recall seeing anyone running nude through camp.”
“She created an illusion?” I suggested.
Mrs. Wright sighed. I sighed. Emily sighed. I remembered that I used to make Kate sigh.
“You two may help wash the dishes after supper tonight,” pronounced Mrs. Wright. “And Kamilla,” she added, leading me out of the beachhouse, away from the others, “I want you to come with me to the office. We’re going to call your parents so we can discuss this incident, as well as your disappearance at lunch, with them.”
Call home! I was already on Dad’s and Kate’s bad sides after my behavior over coming to Camp Arrowhead. What would they think now? I couldn’t decide if the phone call was a good or bad idea. Maybe they’d see the error of their ways and let me come home. But did I want that?
Finally I just said, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to reach them. It’s Tuesday. They’re both probably at the university. Summer session started yesterday.”
“Both your parents work?” Mrs. Wright asked.
I could see the wheels turning. Lonely, neglected child of working parents. Obvious adjustment problems.
“Yes, my father and stepmother work.” I enunciated each word carefully to make sure she got the point. About who Kate was, that is.
The wheels turned a bit further. Member of broken family.
“Then we’ll try calling them tonight,” she said.
She turned on her heel and left me standing by the beachhouse.
Chapter 9
Ups and Downs
THANKS TO SUSIE AND her big mouth, Emily and I had not been able to leave the kitchen until seven forty-five, over an hour after supper ended. One hundred kids and counselors sure do use a lot of dishes and things. My fingers looked like prunes by the time the cook said we could go.
Emily and I burst out of the building. We were missing a rousing campwide game of Capture the Flag. I could see Emily getting anxious to play. I, personally, did not care which side ended up with the flag and got the ice cream. So I was only slightly upset when Mrs. Wright snagged me and suggested that now would be a nice, quiet time to use the office phone.
Emily ran off to war, and I trailed Mrs. Wright into the office. She motioned me to another little room. I sat down on a couch and looked for a telephone. I did not see one.
Mrs. Wright sat next to me. “Kammy, if you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d like to speak to your parents first—in private. Then you may speak to them in private. Is that all right with you?”
I nodded.
“Also, I want you to understand that calling your parents is not a punishment. I simply want them to be aware of what is happening here. Maybe they can help. And maybe you’ll feel better after you’ve spoken to them.”
I didn’t know if I was supposed to say anything, so I just nodded again.
Mrs. Wright got up and closed the door between me and the office.
I jumped up and put my ear to the door, but I couldn’t hear much. Just some low murmurings. Mrs. Wright had either a very soft phone voice or a very thick door.
I sat back down and thumbed through a copy of Highlights for Children. It is a magazine I happen to hate because the only other place I ever see it is the dentist’s office.
After about five minutes the door opened and I went in and sat behind Mrs. Wright’s desk. She ducked into the other room and closed the door. I wondered if she was standing plastered against the crack trying to overhear me.
I picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hello! Hello!” Two hearty hellos from Dad and Kate
. They were each on an extension.
“What’s up, pumpkin?” asked Dad. “Mrs. Wright told us about today, but I want to hear your side.”
“Why, nothing, Dad,” I said. “You and Kate said this would be a terrific place for me, and it sure is. You sure were right.”
“That sounds a bit sarcastic, Kammy,” Dad said quietly.
I did not answer him. There was this huge silence.
“Kammy?”
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Wright says there’s been a bit of trouble today.”
“Mrs. Wright is a st—” I broke off. I was going to call her a stinker, but that is not one of Dad’s favorite words. “Mrs. Wright doesn’t know how to run a camp.”
I heard a sort of muffled choking sound on Dad’s end of the phone. He had a hard time concealing a laugh.
“Really, Dad,” I insisted. “She runs a stupid camp. She serves disgusting food and puts the bathrooms out where you can’t find them and there’s no electricity in the cabins and no place to change your clothes, and that made me late to breakfast the first morning because”—I could feel my face burning—“I didn’t want to undress in front of the other girls.” The last couple of words came out sounding kind of choked.
“Oh,” said Kate slowly. “I see. Robert, would you mind hanging up? I think I hear the baby fussing. I’ll call you back to the phone in just a moment.”
“Yes, O.K.,” said Dad hastily.
“Kams?”
“Yeah?” I hardly even noticed that Kate had used my father’s special nickname for me.
“How come you don’t like to undress in front of the others?”
I breathed in a long, shaky breath. “It’s hard to explain.”
“I was wondering if it might have something to do with wearing a bra.”
“Well…”
“You know what? I didn’t need my first bra until I was thirteen, but my sister, who is two years younger than I am, needed her first bra the same day I did! I was pretty mad at her, but my mother pointed out that everyone grows differently. And in the long run it won’t matter much what size you are—or whether you have brown hair or blond hair, or green eyes or brown eyes, or you’re five foot four or five foot eight. It’s what’s inside that counts. You’ve probably heard that all before and it probably doesn’t mean much, but just file it away for later. And remember that your friends are not going to like you for your chest size.”
Bummer Summer Page 8