“See you later,” said Luna.
“Or sooner.” Talita waved.
Sooner or later turned out to be the next morning. Right after breakfast, Luna felt a touch nauseated. Instead of canoeing over to the bluffs along with the rest of her cabin, she decided she had better rest up until her stomachache passed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Pam when Luna approached her. “Go see Talita.”
“There’s nothing I can do about indigestion except give you some Peptine,” said Talita.
“Can I can help you with stuff around here, until I feel better?” Luna asked.
“Act-u-a-lee,” said Talita, pulling on every syllable as she looked at Luna, “there is something. See that brown box? We got some new supplies in, and I haven’t had a minute to unload them. But you’re canoeing today, right? You don’t want to miss something as fun as that.”
“I don’t mind,” said Luna truthfully.
She spent the rest of the day unloading the carton of supplies, and then taking inventory for Talita. In the cool quiet indoors, Luna counted and checked cotton balls, Q-tips, gauze bandages, and disposable thermometer strips. After she finished, she watched Talita update the Camp Bliss Web page.
That’s when Luna had an idea.
“May I write a letter home on behalf of the campers?” she asked. “It might add a nice personal touch.”
“Be my guest,” said Talita. “I never think anyone reads this Web page, anyhow.”
Luna jumped on the computer.
It’s been two weeks and we are having more fun than we ever dreamed! The sun shines all day long, and the nights are filled with campfire song! she typed. Today a bunch of us went canoeing. Everyone considers Janna Bruskaard to be one of the star paddlers.
“Nice. You could do daily updates and call it ‘Luna’s News,’” said Talita, looking over her shoulder. “It would be great, especially for the parents of the younger girls, the kiddies who haven’t been away from home before.”
“Okay,” Luna agreed. Perhaps writing cheerful bulletins about Camp Bliss would convince her that it was a fun place to be.
The next day, the entire camp was going to ride bikes along the Bluefly Ridge trail.
“So get psyched!” yelled Tammy and Pam. The girls whistled and stomped. Luna cringed. She checked for nosebleed, rashes, fever. Nothing. During cabin cleanup, she even hung her head off the side of her bunk bed, but not so much as a trickle of top-bunk sickness ran through her. She felt great!
That meant it was time for her last-resort tactic. A spell. It wasn’t a big-deal spell. It was more like a trick, one she had seen Grandy do for her friends at parties, with a wineglass balanced on her head. Luna guessed that the wineglass part was unnecessary.
Quickly, she said her name frontward and backward, then touched her forehead and tongue and cast:
There once was a girl who was weller
So she decided to cast her own speller.
She made her skin cold
Filled her mouth up with mold
From the sickly you now couldn’t tell her.
Then she ran down the hill and straight to the front office. The spell was so mild it would wear off in twenty minutes. She had to be quick.
“Good gracious!” Talita put her hand over her heart. “Your tongue is green and fuzzy.” She placed a palm on Luna’s forehead. “You’re cold as an ice cube! I don’t know what to do for that. I’ve never seen anything like it before, not even in my textbooks.” She looked so concerned that Luna felt bad.
“It doesn’t hurt at all, really,” she said. “I’m sure I’m fine.”
“Hmm. I should keep a close watch on you for a while.” Talita held up her pack of playing cards. “Want to play? That is, if you’re up to it?”
“Sure!” Luna smiled.
At lunch, they split a cream-cheese-and-olive sandwich, and then Talita had to go teach a water-safety session to the Cabin One and Two girls. “We need to keep reminding the little rascals, otherwise they get too bold,” Talita explained. “You can stay here and answer the phone while I’m gone.”
“Okay!” Luna was pleased to sit at the front desk. It had a computer and a big stack of Talita’s medical textbooks. This is what it would be like to be in college or have a job, she thought. With no more camp, ever.
She took Eternally Eustacia out of the desk top drawer. She was almost to the end of the book, and she was sure that a beautiful wedding would be coming up in the last chapter. Talita had said that when Luna was finished, she could donate it to the Pillowcase Fund.
After a few minutes, she was interrupted by a loud screaming from outside. “Help me, Taleeetaaa! I’m going to die!”
Luna looked out the window. Haley was hopping over the hill, holding her toe with both hands and crying at the top of her lungs. Luna hurried out and helped her into the office, and then helped her onto the first-aid cot.
“What seems to be the trouble?” she asked in her best doctor voice.
“There’s a gargantuan splinter in my toe! I got it on the dock!”
Luna looked. Sure enough, the half-inch splinter lay buried like a crooked frown under the thick skin of Haley’s big toe.
“Do something!” Haley moaned.
“We should wait for Talita,” said Luna.
“But I might get an infection!” Haley bawled. “If you stand by and do nothing, then you could go to jail. My parents are lawyers, so I should know!” Tears squirted from her eyes like watermelon seeds.
Although Luna didn’t quite believe this threat, her heart raced. Talita would not be back for at least half an hour, and Haley’s crying was already unbearable. Luna examined the toe more thoroughly. Simple, really. Nothing to it. Sterilise a pair of long tweezers, some rubbing alcohol …
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said, “but you have to stop crying.”
“I can’t!” Haley cried. “I’m in more pain than I ever felt in my life!”
Luna doubted this was true, but she briskly washed her hands in the basin and selected the tweezers and alcohol from the first-aid cabinet. “Don’t wriggle,” she instructed. “Please, Haley. If you cooperate, this will be over in no time.”
“Hurry! The splinter is poisoning my blood as we speak!” screamed Haley. “I might have to get an amputation!”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous! You need to sit still, so that I can do my job,” Luna exclaimed. Haley’s crying was rattling her nerves. Maybe they should wait for Talita, after all.
“The splinter is touching my toe bone!” Haley screamed.
“Please, Haley, keep still,” Luna begged. But Haley was not going to stop wriggling or screaming.
Then Luna remembered that Talita kept a glass jar of sour balls in the lower cabinet. She grabbed Talita’s keys from the desk, unlocked the cabinet, reached in, and selected a green one.
“I’m not a baby!” wailed Haley. “I don’t need candy!”
“No, this isn’t candy. This is a medicine ball. It helps the pain,” said Luna. “It has a special … potion. Only the green ones, though. That’s why they don’t taste quite as good as the others.”
Haley looked skeptical, but she grabbed the candy and unwrapped it. As she slurped on the sour ball, the tears dried on her cheek. Luna took a deep breath as she again sat on the stool opposite the first-aid cot. She kept a firm grip on Haley’s toe and slowly, painstakingly, drew out the splinter.
“Voilà!” She held up the splinter for Haley’s red-rimmed eyes.
“Wow!” Haley sniffled. “It didn’t even hurt much. That’s strong medicine.”
“What’s going on here?”
Luna turned. Talita was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“She saved me from a splinter.” Haley wriggled her bandaged toe. “See that? Luna did as good a job as a real doctor.”
“It was nothing,” said Luna, embarrassed.
Later, after Haley left, Luna told Talita the whole story. Talita laughed. “Gree
n sour balls. I’ll have to remember that!” she said. “Good work, Luna.”
That evening, Talita must have said something to Pam, because straight after dinner, Pam walked up to Luna and dropped a hand on her shoulder.
“Luna, congratulations on your first-aid work. Talita says you’re a good apprentice.”
“Um, if you really feel that way” Luna began nervously. “The truth is, I’d rather be up in the front office, helping out and working on the Web page. I like doing that better than regular camp stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Pam. “I’ve been thinking about you, Luna. I have a proposition.” She drew Luna a little way apart from the rest of the girls to speak privately. “I don’t want this getting out since it’s not really Camp Bliss policy, but here is my idea. If you put in more effort and enthusiasm during the morning camp activities, then I’ll let you off for afternoon office duty. Talita said she could use the help, and if you’re participating with us in the morning, then I don’t have a problem with it.” She stuck out her hand. “Team player?”
Luna stuck out her hand, too. “Team player!”
“Dandy.” They shook on it, and Pam blew on her whistle, which seemed like the right thing to do after a deal had been struck.
6
Calling Camp Bliss Girl
ELLA WAS THE REBEL witch. Claire could feel it in her bones. She could sense it in her skin. She could smell it in the air.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” said Luna, peering down from her perch on the dock. “Come out of the water. I’m getting dizzy just looking at you. Don’t you feel dizzy?”
“Nuh-uh, it doesn’t bother me anymore. I love-love-love Lake Periwinkle!” To prove it, Claire spun herself around in her inner tube. This made her horribly dizzy. But a real Camp Bliss Girl should not be scared of water!
“Besides,” Luna continued, “what do you have to go on, besides your dramatic hunches?”
Claire gritted her teeth. It was hard to explain. “Ella Edsel’s a cootie-faced Jerk from Berserk,” she said.
“So is Angelica Antonio,” Luna reminded her. “She’s the snootiest girl in the whole school, remember? But we never thought Angelica was a rebel witch. Actually, I’m surprised you don’t get along with Ella. You’re both good at all the same things.”
“Never, ever, lump me with Ella Edsel,” said Claire sternly. “She is rotten. She is wrecking my chances to win the you-know-what.” Claire never liked to say those wonderful words “loving cup” out loud. It seemed like a jinx.
“She might be rotten, but she’s not a rebel witch,” said Luna.
Claire stretched out her arms and recited:
“From A to zed and here to there,
In buckled shoes and wild red hair,
With warted chin and toothless smile,
Shalt spy a witch from o’er a mile.”
Luna snorted back a laugh. “That’s from our nursery school book of spooky poems, Clairsie! You might as well hunt down Ella’s broomstick and cauldron, if your hunches are going to be that old-fashioned.”
“There’s a grain of truth in every poem,” said Claire haughtily. “And you have to admit, Loon. Her hair is wild red. Besides, you don’t watch Ella Edsel the way I watch Ella Edsel.”
On that point, Claire was certain. Nobody at Camp Bliss was watching Ella Edsel as carefully as Claire Bundkin.
That was because, in addition to being (probably) the rebel witch of Camp Bliss, Ella Edsel was a saboteur.
“Saboteur!” Claire would mutter under her breath whenever she saw Ella loping along on her spider-skinny legs. Claire was very happy she had learned that word. It meant someone who wrecks another person’s plans, and it fit Ella perfectly (better than traitor, which was too soldierly, or weasel, which sounded almost cute, like a pet).
Ella Edsel’s name even sounded saboteurish, with that stylish double E. For the first time, Claire was glad she wasn’t a triple-B name, like Bonnie-Blue (her favorite name in the entire world).
“Bonnie-Blue Bundkin is not a stylish name! It’s vile. It sounds like a bunny rabbit,” her mother had insisted. “You’ll thank me later, Claire.”
Ella Edsel is also a vile name, Claire thought, because it’s attached to a vile person. A pusher and a kicker and a cheater and a two-faced saboteur. If Ella Edsel was also a rebel witch, that was just one more thing to add to a long list of bad qualities.
It was frustrating to Claire that Luna never saw how bad Ella was. In fact, most everyone missed it. For some reason, girls liked Ella. They never appeared to notice her non-stop cheating. Such as how she would call, “Safe!” when she was really out, or how she didn’t quite show people her time on the stop-watch, and how she always took do-overs for archery and gymnastics.
Once, during afternoon pottery, Claire saw Ella’s vase collapse on the wheel. After Pam redid it, Ella took full credit for Pam’s work.
“Mine turned out great,” she bragged into Claire’s ear. “Mine’s the best!”
“Um, I think you mean Pam’s is the best?” Claire sneered.
“She only helped me for a sec,” said Ella. “Jealous, much?”
“Cheater, much?”
Ella just batted her eyes and skipped away to place her vase in the kiln.
It would have taken nothing to cast a “puff-o’-the-wind” spell. One unexpected breeze to smash that vase to bazillion pieces. If only Grandy hadn’t said No Spells! Well, it was probably for the best. Claire didn’t need anyone to think she was a bad sport. Bad sportsmanship was not part of the Camp Bliss Girl identity.
Ella knew that, too. She had also figured that she and Claire were neck and neck for the silver loving cup, even though Claire had played dumb about the whole thing.
“Takes more than beginner’s luck to be C. B. G,” Ella said after their first competition. They had tied for the win in the junior wind-surfing race. She stood over Claire after she had collapsed on the bank, woozy from too much time on Lake Periwinkle.
“What’s C. B. G.?” Claire wheezed.
“Oh, like you don’t know, Flea!” Ella scoffed. “Camp Bliss Girl, obviously. It’s the best camper award. Julianna Becker won it last year! This year she’s not here because she’s working as a lifeguard in Newark, New Jersey. She taught me everything I know. And you might as well give it up and settle for second-place ribbons. The trophy never goes to a rookie camper. Like you.”
“I’d rather be a rookie camper than a cootie monster.”
“Listen, for the last time, I don’t have cooties!” Ella stamped her foot. “Stop telling people that!”
“Cootie germs, no returns,” Claire answered, sitting up to punch Ella’s ankle with the last of her strength. On the inside, her hopes felt as crunched as an old tin can.
Was it true? Could a loving cup only go to a returning camper?
No way!
Ella Edsel was also a liar, Claire reminded herself. A liar who was feeling the heat of competition.
Because it was always Claire or Ella. Ella or Claire.
At any game or relay, at any sailing or swimming race, at any fitness test, and even at any contest that girls made up for fun—such as who could long-jump farthest off the top of the stone barbecue grill, or who could eat a slice of pizza in the fewest bites—Ella and Claire finished too close for comfort.
Sometimes Claire won. Sometimes Ella won. Sometimes they tied.
And mostly, Claire decided, Ella cheated.
When Ella’s cheating was too obvious, Claire had to speak up. “But Ella didn’t touch the buoy!” “Ella added ten points to her scorecard!” “Ella netted the ball twice and didn’t call it!”
“You’re nuts!” Ella yelled. “You’re blind!”
In such a loud voice that Pam would let her off. Probably, Claire figured, because it was easier to allow Ella to get her way than to question her.
So Claire had to be content with whispering. “Cheater!” “Liar!” “Jerk!” “Saboteur!”
“Takes o
ne to know one!” Ella always whispered back.
Which made Claire grit and grind her teeth. How long could she keep being a good sport without going crazy?
The last straw was the afternoon mountain hike for advanced hikers only. Midway up to Bluefly Ridge, Ella jumped directly ahead of Claire. Then, while pretending to clear the path, she snapped back some pricker branches so that they scratched Claire’s arm.
“Ow!” Claire yelled, extra loud.
“Sorry, Fleabite,” said Ella in a singsong voice. Then she muttered a few words under her breath.
Claire gasped. Was it a spell? A rebel-witch pricker-stinging spell? It had to be! Proof, at last!
Suddenly, the prickers seemed to sting more fiercely. After they descended the mountain, Claire raced to the first-aid office, where Talita and Luna cleaned and dressed her arm.
“What did I tell you!” Claire exclaimed once Talita was out of earshot. “Rebel-witch Ella Edsel snapped the pricker branch on purpose! Then she chanted a spell to make it sting worse! It feels like fire on my arm!”
“Really? A pricker-sting spell? How’d it go?”
“Well, I didn’t hear it, exactly.”
“Could it have only been your imagination?”
When Claire didn’t answer, Luna looked skeptical. “Careful, Clairsie,” she warned.
“Whatever Ella did or didn’t do, you don’t want to come off looking like the baddie.”
“She hurt me! How’m I the baddie?”
“Well … the way you tell those jokes at dinner, saying Ella has cooties. Or how you say that she has lice, and that her lice probably have red hair and freckles, too.”
“Oh, that’s just camp spirit! Haven’t you ever heard her call me Flea or Fleabite? Ella Edsel’s like a—a human pricker! I wish I could figure out the best spell to get her back.”
“Ignore her.”
Claire wrinkled her nose. “You sound like Mom and Dad.”
“Rise above it.”
“Luna! That’s not real advice.”
“And whatever you do, don’t sink to her level.”
Claire snapped her fingers. Aha! She would sink to Ella’s level. She would pretend to be friends, and then when nobody was looking—bam! Right back at her. “Thanks, Loon! Great advice!” she said, giving her sister a hug.
Witch Twins Series Page 12
