The divorce was the biggest bad thing that ever happened. But sometimes it is the little things about it, like worrying about who is going to drive me when, or having to write two letters instead of one, that really bug me. I can feel myself starting to get angry. I don’t want to end my last phone call with Dad before camp with a fight, so I tell him I have to go.
“Kissing contest?” he asks.
Immediately I start making kissing sounds.
“No fair!” he cries. “Nobody said GO!” But then he starts making kissy sounds too. Whoever can make the most before our lips give out wins. I know Dad is going to miss me a lot, so even though my lips are getting tired, I keep going.
“You win!” he says at last. “Thanks, Amber. I’ll store up those kisses for while you’re gone. I’m going to miss you. Have a wonderful time at camp.”
After the phone call, Mom makes my favorite breakfast for Justin and me . . . . English muffins with lots of peanut butter and happy faces made out of M&M’s.
Max comes into the kitchen. “Can you eat peanut butter with your braces?” he asks Justin. He sounds concerned.
Justin just nods, since he already stuffed a whole muffin face into his mouth.
Max sits. “I’ve got the car packed and the GPS all programmed.”
I’m not used to having someone this organized in my life. Sometimes it is very useful. Sometimes it drives me crazy.
Today, it feels great.
On the drive to camp Max says, “Let’s play ‘My Grandmother’s Trunk.’”
“Your grandmother was an elephant?” Justin says.
“Nice try, funny boy,” Max says. “No, it’s the game my family always plays on road trips. I start by saying, ‘My grandmother packed a trunk, and in the trunk she put a petunia.’ Except it doesn’t have to be ‘petunia.’ Just whatever thing you want to choose. Then the next person has to repeat the sentence, but add a word that starts with the last letter of whatever Gramma just packed.
“Here, let’s try it. ‘My grandmother packed a trunk, and in the trunk she put an . . . . . . . aardvark.’ Over to you, Amber!”
So I have to come up with a word that starts with the last letter of aardvark. I choose kangaroo. That seems simple. What makes the game tricky is that you have to name everything that came before, so the list keeps getting longer and longer.
When we get to my second turn, I have to remember, “My grandmother packed a trunk, and in the trunk she put an aardvark, a kangaroo, an opal . . . . a lollipop, a pickle, and an elephant.”
Justin says, “My grandmother packed a trunk, and in the trunk she put an aardvark, a kangaroo, an opal, a lollipop, a pickle, an elephant, and the Titanic.”
“How big is this trunk, anyway?” Mom asks, laughing.
Actually we are all laughing.
My mother misses on the next round. I have a feeling Max could keep going forever. It’s that organized brain thing.
About halfway to camp we stop for ice cream. I get pistachio. Justin says it should be called “booger” because of the color. That doesn’t stop him from doing what we always used to do when we got ice cream . . . . pushing the cones together so I get some of his chocolate and he gets some of my pistachio. You have to do this very carefully. Otherwise your ice cream ends up on the ground.
Justin and I know this from sad experience.
Max decides that ice-cream mashing looks like fun, but when he tries to get Mom to do it, she rolls her eyes and says, “Taking a trip with you and those two is like traveling with three kids.” But then she gives him a kiss to let him know she doesn’t really mean it.
“Kisses are better than ice cream,” Max says.
After we wash our faces . . . mine is chocolate colored on one side and green on the other . . . we pile back into the car.
We are having so much fun playing “My Grandmother’s Trunk” that we almost don’t hear the GPS tell us we are only four miles from camp.
I have been concentrating so hard on the game, I haven’t been paying much attention to the countryside. Now I see that we are in a very green and hilly area. Off to our right is a hill so high, I think it might be a mountain. This makes me wonder how big a hill has to be before it gets to be called a mountain. Do little hills want to be mountains when they grow up?
Sometimes even I think that the things I think are silly!
“Welcome to Camp Cushetunk!” Justin shouts. He is pointing to a sign made from birch tree branches.
We drive up a long hill, through tall pine trees. When we come to a clearing, we see posters directing us where to park.
As we get out of the car, a woman dressed in shorts and a blue Camp Cushetunk polo shirt comes over to greet us. She is holding a clipboard and has a whistle around her neck. “My name is Miss Flo,” she says. “I’m the camp director.” She looks at me carefully, then says, “Amber, right?”
“How did you know?” I ask.
She smiles. “You and your parents sent a picture with your application, remember?”
Max looks at Miss Flo with admiration. “Do you mean you already know the name of every camper?”
Miss Flo nods. “It’s kind of a game for me, but I also believe it makes the campers happy that we know who they are.”
“And I thought ‘My Grandmother’s Trunk’ was a challenge,” Max says.
“You’re Justin Daniels,” Miss Flo continues. “We love getting second generations. I remember your parents well.” She smiles. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you a story about your father and mother. Anyway, you’ll be in Pete’s cabin. He’s one of the waterfront counselors. I think you’ll get along great. He’s from Minnesota, the Land of Lakes, so they’ve been dunking him since he was no bigger than a minnow.”
I’m kind of wishing I was a minnow myself. Then I would have been born knowing how to swim.
Miss Flo turns to me. “Amber, you’ll be with Carrie from Kiev.”
I know where Minnesota is, but I’ve never heard of Kiev.
“Isn’t that far to come?” Mom asks.
“We have counselors from all over the world. It’s part of the Cushetunk Experience. Carrie is our riding instructor. She was riding before she could walk. She was on the Ukrainian national team.”
Now I have two things to be nervous about . . . . . swimming and horseback riding. Unless you count the pony ride Aunt Pam took me on once at the zoo, I’ve never been anywhere near a horse.
“Are your trunks labeled?” Miss Flo asks.
If she knew Max, she wouldn’t have to ask.
“Everything is labeled,” Mom says.
Max grins. He is sure he is getting a compliment.
“Good,” Miss Flo says. “Just leave your trunks here. We’ll have them delivered to your bunks. We call it ‘trunk to bunk’ service.” She turns to Mom and Max. “And now it’s time for parental units to say good-bye.”
She is smiling, but it is plain that she wants them to clear out.
Mom gives Justin a big hug. Then she reaches for me and holds me tight. I look up at her. She has tears in her eyes. “Have a fabulous time, Amber.” She smiles. “We’ll be sending a package for your birthday.” She digs in her purse for a tissue. After she wipes her nose, she says, “I can’t believe I won’t be with you when you turn ten!”
Max wipes away a tear too. “I’ll miss you, you little monkey.” He has never called me a little monkey before. It’s kind of sweet. I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t do it all the time.
A tall, tan teenager comes over and says, “Hey, Justin. I’m Pete. Let’s go to the flagpole.”
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and see a counselor with red hair and big blue eyes. She says, “You’re Amber, right? I’m Carrie.”
“From Kiev,” I answer.
“You’ll be in my cabin,” Carrie says. “It’s the bes
t bunk. You’ll see.”
“Your English is so good,” I tell her.
She smiles again. “Thank you. I went to the American School in Kiev.”
We walk to the flagpole.
I hear a squeal. Kelly and Brandi come running over to hug me.
When we are done squealing and hugging, Carrie says, “Come on, Amber, let’s get you settled in. You’ll see your friends again at dinner.”
“Don’t worry,” Kelly says. “I checked it out. We’re only one cabin over.”
That’s when I realize the terrible truth . . . I’m going to be in a different bunk than Brandi and Kelly! It didn’t even occur to me to worry about this. I just always thought we would be together.
Carrie takes me to a path that winds into the forest. It leads to a wooden building.
“Ta-da!” she says. “Your home for the next four weeks.”
She flings open the door. Standing at one of the bunks, their backs to us, are three girls. When they hear the door open, they turn to face us.
As they move aside, I can see a fourth girl. It is clear that the other girls had been gathered around her, as if she was already their leader.
My heart sinks.
My stomach clenches.
My toes curl.
I wonder if it is too late to go home. Because if it is, I’m going to have to spend the next four weeks sharing a cabin with Hannah Burton.
Chapter Four
“Oh, look,” Hannah says. “It’s Amber Brown, the world’s only living crayon!”
“Hannah,” Carrie warns. “We have a rule at Camp Cushetunk. No put-downs. Girls, you are all bunkmates. I expect you to have each other’s backs.”
Hannah glares at me as if what she wants to do with my back is put a dagger in it.
Putting a hand on my shoulder, Carrie says, “Hannah, I know you and Amber go to school together. Why don’t you introduce her to the other girls?”
Hannah sighs and says, “Amber, this is Treasure Jackson.” She is pointing to a tall black girl.
“Hi, Amber,” Treasure says. “Welcome to Camp Cushetunk. I was here last year. You’ll love it.”
I notice that she has a great smile.
“Treasure is sleeping in my upper bunk,” Hannah says, as if wanting it to be clear that Treasure is going to be her friend, not mine.
The girl next to Treasure doesn’t wait for Hannah. “I’m Shannon Cohn.” She holds her hand out and starts toward me. She doesn’t really walk, she kind of bounces. So does her curly red hair. She shakes my hand.
“I’m Grace Anderson,” the third girl says. She is about my height but a lot thicker than I am. I don’t mean that she is fat, just that she looks strong. I can tell that she is by the fact that my hand hurts when she shakes it.
“I have to go,” Carrie says. “I’ve still got one more camper to meet.”
I feel a little panicked . . . . . . . . . I want to tell Carrie not to leave me here. I don’t know how to explain it. The whole time I was excited about going to camp, I kind of thought of it as a time to be with Brandi, Kelly, and Justin without having to worry about school. I can’t believe I forgot there would be so many kids here that I had never met.
There is only one bunk left, and I get to choose whether I want the upper or lower bed. This is something else I haven’t thought about. I don’t know whether to pick top or bottom. I feel like I’m a molar trying to decide where to live.
Treasure comes over and says, “Most kids like the bottom bunk because it’s easier to get up to go pee. Also, people hang out on the bottom bunks. I like to hang out, but not all the time. On top it’s kind of private, and it’s fun. You can flop over the edge and watch people sleep. People are pretty funny when they’re sleeping.”
Hannah looks annoyed. I can’t tell if it’s because Treasure is talking to me, or because Hannah has suddenly decided she should have taken a top bunk instead.
“I think I want the top,” I say. I practice climbing up. Treasure was right. It’s fun. There is a window and it feels like being in a tree house. I’m really glad I chose the top.
Just then, Carrie comes back in. She has an Asian-looking girl with her.
“Ladies, meet Cleo Wu,” Carrie says. “Now our bunk is complete.”
“Hi, Cleo,” I say quickly, hanging my head over the edge of the mattress. “I’m Amber.”
I feel very good that I manage to do this before Hannah can say anything. I smile at Cleo, but then worry that it looks like a frown, since my head is upside down. I clamber to the floor and hold out my hand. Cleo takes it, and we shake.
“Have you been here before?” she asks.
“Nope. Treasure has, though.” I point in her direction.
Grace leaps up. “I was here last year too. I’m Grace Anderson.”
Shannon smiles at Cleo. “I’m new like you. Shannon Cohn.”
“How about you?” Cleo points to Hannah.
“It’s my first time.” Hannah looks very put out. “But I don’t feel new. I know all about Camp Cushetunk because my parents both came here when they were kids.”
I didn’t know this. It annoys me, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s because every conversation with Hannah seems to turn into some sort of contest while I’m not looking.
Someone knocks at the door. Carrie pulls it open. “Ah, we have achieved trunkage! Haul them in, gentlemen. Kids, your stuff is here. Most of your things should stay in your trunk. Treasure and Grace, show them how we do it.”
We have cubbies, which makes me think of kindergarten. Our trunks go in the bottom, then there is a shelf, and then a few pegs to hang things on.
Getting unpacked doesn’t take long.
Carrie blows a whistle. When we come running over, she is smiling. “I love doing that,” she says. “Come on, let’s head for chow.”
I wonder if we are going to have to walk in a line, but we end up looking more like a cluster of ducklings following their mother. I am walking next to Cleo. She starts telling me lightbulb jokes.
My favorite is, “How many campers does it take to change a lightbulb?”
The answer is, “It depends on how big the flashlight is.”
I think I am going to like her.
When we enter the mess hall I get nervous. The place is huge! I am feeling a bit lost when Carrie comes up to Cleo and me. “At Cushetunk we sit at assigned tables,” she tells us. “But we change the table mix every week. That way, you get to meet almost everyone. But you start with your own age group.”
She shows us to a seating chart posted on the wall. I almost shriek when I find my name. I am at a table with Justin, Kelly, and Treasure, plus a few other people that I don’t know. I’m sorry I’m not with Brandi, but overjoyed that I’m not with Hannah.
I secretly bless Miss Flo for putting me with Justin for this first week. She must have remembered what I wrote in my essay . . . . . one reason I wanted to come to Cushetunk was so that Justin and I could spend the summer together.
Justin is already at the table. He grins at me. I still can’t get used to his braces. He is with his counselor, Pete. I get to sit next to Justin. Perfect!
“How’s it going?” Justin asks. “My bunk is great.”
“My bunk has Hannah in it,” I whisper to him. Well, actually I kind of growl it.
Before I can say more, Pete interrupts. He makes us all introduce ourselves. When we are done, he says, “We have lots of traditions at Camp Cushetunk, and the first-night dinner is one of my favorites. As counselor for your table, I get to pick the question.”
“Question?” I ask. “Like what do we want to eat?”
“No,” he says. “The menu is already settled. The question for the table is, ‘How would the world be different if animals could talk?’”
“Well, if they were zebras, they would say,
‘I want a little color in my life!’” I call out.
“I think the animals would say, ‘You humans aren’t half as smart as you think you are,’” Justin says.
“Oh, Justin,” Treasure says. “You’re right! I think animals are so much smarter than anyone knows.”
Justin blushes. But he is smiling.
Nobody seems to like my idea . . . . . and now I am sorry that I made a stupid joke. Soon everyone is talking about his or her favorite animal, and why it is so smart. I realize I don’t really have a favorite animal, except Gorilla, but I’m afraid someone will laugh if I name him.
“Nobody picked a mule,” Treasure says. She laughs and starts to sing a song about a mule.
“You’ve got a great voice,” Pete tells her.
Justin nods. “My parents like to sing that song.”
“It’s a Cushetunk favorite,” Pete says.
Treasure smiles. “Speaking of favorites, everybody ready for s’mores? It’s a first-campfire tradition.”
Justin grins. “I love s’mores!”
“Cushetunk s’mores are the best,” Treasure says.
Soon we are heading outdoors to the campfire area. It is wonderful, a half circle on the hillside overlooking the lake. On the beach is a big pile of wood shaped like a teepee. We sit on the ground facing the pile of wood, and applaud as the counselors light the fire.
Justin grins at me. “My parents said the campfires were their favorite thing at Cushetunk.”
When the fire is blazing away, three counselors teach us the Camp Cushetunk anthem.
Cushetunk, Cushetunk,
We will never forsake you.
Hills of green,
Shores serene,
And your waters of clear blue.
Home of our hearts
You will always be,
No matter where we wander.
Cushetunk, Cushetunk,
Our hearts grow ever fonder!
We sing it again at the end of the campfire. I am so happy. The sky is dark and I can see more stars than I even knew existed. The air is as sweet as the s’mores. Treasure was right. I am going to love it here.
Amber Brown Horses Around Page 2
