“Yup. We can make it say whatever we want.” I look at Roo too, and after considering for a minute, she nods.
“Yeah, you’re right. I think this’ll probably work.”
“It’s perfect, Izzy.” Val gives me a sideways hug. “Right now spaghetti night is scheduled for Saturday, but if you guys are ready, I’ll talk to my friend Danny in the kitchen and see if we can move it to tomorrow.” It sounds like she’s talking to all of us, but she’s looking straight at me, like I’m the leader, and I love it.
“Yup,” I say. “We’re ready.” I get a shiver all the way up my spine. Our very first prank in an age-old prank war, and it’s all because of me and Mackenzie.
* * *
The next day can’t go by fast enough. I’m so excited I can barely eat during lunch, and I spill blue paint all over my shirt in Arts and Crafts. Mackenzie’s no better, and the two of us keep bursting into hyper giggles as we glaze our clay pots. Surprisingly, Hannah’s much better at keeping it together, though there’s a secretive, gleeful smile on her face the entire time she’s painting her skull. I spot Josh walking across the field as I head back to Willow Lodge for Cabin Group, and I wonder if I should’ve let him win our race on the ropes course this morning. I almost feel bad kicking his butt twice in one day.
Almost.
When it’s finally time for Waiter Call, Roo and I walk over to the mess hall together. She’s not exactly the friendliest accomplice, but it’s good that she’s here with me for the first prank. It’s important to have her as an ally, and I wouldn’t want her to resent me because she feels left out.
The two of us try to act normal as we set the table, but we keep a close eye on the serving window, and the moment the kitchen staff starts laying out the heavy serving platters of spaghetti, we race over and grab two. The Wolverine waiters don’t seem to be paying us any attention, but Roo still shields me from them while I slip the plastic Santa out of my backpack and switch it on. And then, working very quietly so I don’t activate it, I lift up a big pile of spaghetti with the serving tongs and nestle Santa into the pasta underneath. I arrange the noodles over him, then stack a couple of meatballs on top of the pile so it looks natural.
“Can you tell it’s under there?” I whisper, and Roo shakes her head and smiles.
I pick up the serving platter, approach the Wolverine table, and intercept one of their waiters as he starts heading toward the serving window. Fortunately, it’s a boy I’ve never met before. I wonder if it’s Bloody Mary.
“Hey,” I say. “We accidentally took two. You can have this one if you want.”
The boy’s eyes narrow, and for a second I’m afraid he recognizes me; Stuart probably told him never to accept anything from a Willow. “What cabin are you in?” he says.
My heart is pounding, but my voice comes out steady and calm when I say. “Cedar. Why?”
“No reason,” he says, and he takes the dish. “Thanks.”
People start arriving for dinner, and Val shoots me a questioning look as I set down a pitcher of water. I smile and nod to show her everything went fine. When Roo passes me the stack of trays I’ll need for phase two of our plan, I glance over at the Maple table to make sure Mackenzie’s watching. She makes her hands into the shape of a flying bird—it’s our long-distance way of saying “The crow flies at midnight,” which is code for “The prank is ready to go.” I tuck my trays under my arm and make the bird sign back, and she smiles and holds up her pinkie for luck.
As soon as all the Wolverines are seated, Roo and I make our way toward opposite ends of the aisle that runs along their table, then walk toward each other at a brisk clip. The spaghetti platter’s right across from Stuart, and when we’re as close to it as we can get, we slam into each other and drop our stacks of trays on the floor with an enormous clatter. A bunch of people laugh and applaud sarcastically as we fake apologize and stoop to gather them up. I cross my fingers and hope the noise was enough to activate the toy.
Seconds later there’s a gasp behind me, and one of the Wolverines shouts, “Omigod, it’s moving!”
“What is?” says Stuart’s voice.
“The spaghetti! You guys, look at it!”
“There’s a rat in there!” someone shrieks.
And then there’s total chaos. The Wolverines all try to back up as the spaghetti undulates like a wave, but they’re trapped in by the benches. Beans gets his feet tangled up and falls off the bench backward, and I have to bite my lip so I don’t laugh as he sprawls at my feet. Two of the Wolverine boys yell and grab on to each other as a couple of meatballs go rolling down the sides of the pile and plop onto the table. People at the surrounding tables leap up on their benches when they hear the word “rat,” and a couple of girls from Magnolia scream and sprint for the door.
Stuart half stands as he watches the spaghetti wriggle, his forehead all scrunched up with concentration. Lightning-quick, he reaches out and snatches the serving tongs. And just as he raises them above the dish like a weapon, the noodles start to speak.
“Willows ruuuuule . . . ,” says Val’s ghostly voice as the spaghetti dances and writhes. “Wolverines droooool!”
“Did it just talk?” one of the boys gasps.
“There’s no such thing as a talking rat, you doofus!”
“It said something! I heard it!”
“You guys! Shut up!”
The Wolverine table falls silent. “Willows ruuuuuuuule!” the spaghetti says again, louder this time. “Wolverines drooooool!”
All the tension goes out of Stuart’s body, and he stands all the way up. “Oh, come on,” he says.
He pulls the platter of wriggling spaghetti toward him, rummages around with the tongs until he finds the Santa toy, and holds it up as it flails around and sheds noodles and sauce all over the table.
“It’s not a rat,” he says. “It’s a very stupid prank.”
“Didn’t think it was so stupid ten seconds ago, did you?” comes Val’s voice from the Willow table. “We totally got you!” All the Willows start laughing and cheering, and everyone at the neighboring tables joins in. When Roo holds up her hand, I slap her palm hard. I hope a forceful high five is a sign of a strong leader.
“Ha-ha,” Stuart says, totally deadpan. “Very funny.”
Nearby I hear a soft clicking noise, and I turn to find Ava right behind me with Roo’s camera around her neck, snapping away. “Did you get his face?” I ask her.
“Ohhhh yeah,” she says. “It was perfect.”
“Is that Santa?” asks Beans.
The toy shakes its hips. “Willows ruuuuule,” it says.
“What a dumb prank,” says one of the other boys, who has literally just stopped cowering under the table. “I wasn’t scared at all.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Roo says. “Come on, girls.”
As we turn and walk back to the table, she slips one arm through Ava’s and one arm through mine, and I time my steps to theirs. Mackenzie catches my eye from across the room and shoots me a smile and a thumbs-up. Even though her prank went perfectly, she looks a little sad, and I figure it’s because she wishes she were over here, strutting across the mess hall with us. I mean, who wouldn’t wish that?
“Willows ruuuule!” I shout over my shoulder, and when all my cabinmates and Val join in with “Wolverines droooool!” I feel like the coolest person in the world.
* * *
When we get back to the cabin after capture the flag that night, I squeeze onto Lexi’s bunk between her and Roo and flip through the pictures Ava took of the spaghetti prank. She’s right—the Wolverines’ terrified faces are absolutely perfect. “We should write a letter to Tomás tomorrow during Cabin Group and tell him how well his prank went,” Lexi says.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“And we should ask him for more ideas,” Roo says. “You were right, he’s amazing at this. We should get started on something else right away and hit the Wolverines again whi
le they’re down.”
“Don’t worry, we’re already working on a couple other options,” I say. I hope they catch the “we.” It’s fine if they think the original idea came from someone else, but the execution was all me, and I think I deserve some credit.
“What does Tomás look like?” Lexi asks. “Is he cute? I bet he’s so cute.”
“Eew, I don’t know,” I say. “He’s my brother!”
Lexi rolls her eyes. “Come on, you can tell if he’s objectively cute.”
“I guess he’s good-looking,” I say. “Black hair and brown eyes, like me. Kind of tall. His skin’s a little darker than mine, and his teeth are really straight—he never needed braces or anything. And he’s got a dimple in his left cheek.”
“Can we see a picture?” Ava asks.
“I don’t have one. I didn’t bring any pictures of my family.”
“What about on your phone?”
“We’re not supposed to use our phones,” Summer chimes in.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I don’t really take a lot of pictures.”
“He must be on Facebook, though, right?” Lexi presses. “Val, can we use your phone to look him up? Pretty please?”
“I wish we could, but there’s no signal out here,” Val says.
“We could go to the main office. There’s wireless there, right?”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I’ll write to my parents tomorrow and ask them to send a photo.”
“What’s it like living with him?” Roo asks. “Did he prank you all the time before he went away to college?”
“Constantly. You have to watch your back when he’s around. It’s kind of a relief that he doesn’t live at home anymore, honestly.”
“What’s the funniest thing he ever did?” Lexi asks.
Everyone looks at me, eyes wide with anticipation, my mind goes completely blank. “Oh man,” I say. “I don’t know. There are too many to choose from.”
“Pick one! It doesn’t have to be the absolute funniest.”
“Um, okay.” I frantically try to remember some of the pranks Mackenzie and I have done, but none of them seem good enough. “There was this one time he transferred everything in our living room onto the front lawn while we were sleeping, including my grandma’s slippers and my math homework and my sister’s Legos,” I say. I’m pretty sure I stole that from a movie. I hope none of them have seen it.
“How did he carry all the furniture by himself?” Summer asks.
“No idea. I never figured out how he did half the things he came up with.”
“Man, you’re so lucky,” Roo says. “My big sister would never do anything that cool.”
“Mine either,” says Petra.
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s pretty funny, when he’s not dyeing your body wash different colors.”
Loud, peppy music starts blasting through the cabin, and when I look up, I see that Val has set up an iPod dock on her dresser. “Post-prank celebratory dance party!” she yells. “Come on, everyone up! It’s a Willow tradition!” She throws her hands over her head and shakes her hips, which makes her look kind of like the Santa toy, but much less creepy.
Lexi’s the first to join her, spinning around and waving her arms as she mouths the words to the song, and Val shouts, “Woooo, go Lexi!” Roo and Ava and Mei join in next, and then Petra gets up and starts doing this silly butt-wiggling dance. I expect Summer’s dancing to be uptight and prissy, but she starts flailing her arms and legs in a surprisingly wild way. BaileyAndHope abandon their card game and jump in circles to the beat. Like always, they’re sort of part of the group, but still a little separate, like they exist in a best-friend bubble that none of us can pop.
I don’t have a great sense of rhythm—at the sixth-grade dance last winter Mackenzie and I spent the whole time at the snack table, competing to see who could eat more mini cupcakes. But I’m so happy tonight that it’s hard to feel self-conscious, and I get up and join the circle. I undo my braid and try to copy the way Val is shaking her hair around, and she laughs when she sees what I’m doing, but it’s the good kind of laugh that means you and I are in on something together. She whips her hair faster, and I whip mine faster, and then Roo and Lexi and Petra start doing it too, and for a second, everything feels perfect.
But then Val dances over to where Hannah’s huddled on her bunk and tries to coax her into joining us. Now that we’ve pranked the Wolverines, it’s like she’s afraid to even step on the floor of our cabin in case there’s a booby trap, but she finally gets up and lets Val spin her around until she giggles. It’s a little annoying that she’s getting so much special attention when all she’s done is act shy and scared. I try to forget about it and enjoy dancing with the other girls, but without Val watching, the hair-shaking thing doesn’t feel the same, so I stop.
When the song ends, Val turns the iPod off. “That’s enough for tonight,” she says. “Time to get ready for bed.” I’m about to beg for one more song, but then she says, “Oh, Izzy, c’mere a second. I have something for you.”
“You do?” I trot over to her, and she pulls an orange shirt out of her drawer and holds it out to me with great ceremony.
“You want to wear this tomorrow?” she asks.
When I unfold the shirt, I see that it’s the one she was wearing our first day here, the one that says I’M FOXY. BaileyAndHope go “Oooooh” in unison.
I must look confused, because Val laughs and says, “Sorry, you fit in so well here that I keep forgetting you’re new. It’s a Foxtail tradition. When a camper does something really extraordinary for her cabin, she gets to wear her counselor’s Foxy shirt the next day. It’s an honor.”
My whole body goes warm; Val thinks I did something extraordinary for the cabin. I remember how I felt last Sunday, when I trailed behind my group during the treasure hunt and got ready for bed all by myself while everyone else chattered around me. I didn’t think I’d ever belong here. And now, six short days later, here I am, the very first one getting rewarded.
“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want,” Val says. “But you’ve earned it.”
I hug the shirt to my chest and smile. “I definitely want to,” I say. “Thanks.”
Tomorrow, everyone in the whole camp is going to know who Val’s favorite Willow is.
Dear Abuela,
How are you? Do you miss me? Are Lina and Tomas driving you crazy? It’s weird to go through an entire day without stepping on any action figures or hearing anyone throw a tantrum because different foods are touching. I DO NOT MISS IT AT ALL.
Things are going really well here. I’ve made a bunch of new friends, and I get to do the ropes course first thing every morning this week. Don’t worry, it’s safe. The food is pretty decent, but I miss your cooking SO MUCH—I don’t know how I’m going to make it through an entire month without a homemade tortilla. They served us this “cake” on Friday that tasted like a dried-up sponge, and all I could think about the whole rest of the day was the cinnamon-chocolate cake you made for my birthday. And now I’m thinking about it again and getting really hungry.
Can you do me a favor? I need you to print out a picture from the Internet of the actor who plays Juan Carlos on “Corazon de Hielo, Alma de Fuego” and send it to me. Not one where he’s on the red carpet or anything, just one where he’s wearing jeans and looks like a normal guy who might be related to us. Lina can help you do a Google image search and use the printer if you don’t remember how. Speaking of “Corazon de Hielo,” I hope nothing TOO horrible has happened since I’ve been gone. (Hahahaha, of course horrible stuff has happened—it’s a telenovela.) Catch me up on the plot in your next letter, okay? Did Luz and Umberto die in the desert? Did that old woman in jail turn out to be Rosalinda’s long-lost mother?
Thanks in advance for the picture! You’re the best! Te amo mucho!
Izzy
CHAPTER 8
Mackenzie’s not at breakfast on Saturday morning, and I don’t see h
er at lunch or in Arts and Crafts, either. The minute Cabin Group ends and Free Time starts, I head over to Maple to check on her, and I catch her on her way out the door. “Hey, I was coming to find you,” she says. Then a weird expression comes over her face as she notices my shirt. “Why are you wearing that?”
“It’s Val’s,” I say. “She said it was a tradition that if you do something really extraordinary for your cabin, you get to wear it.” The shirt is pretty big on me and drapes off my shoulders like I’m a wire hanger, but the impressed looks I’ve been getting all day have been totally worth it. Plus, the shirt smells like Val’s sunblock and moisturizer and deodorant, and wearing it makes me feel really grown-up.
“Oh,” Mackenzie says. “That’s cool, I guess.”
“Sorry we can’t tell anyone the prank was your idea. You should get a turn to wear it too.”
“It’s okay. I don’t really care.”
She seems to want to change the subject, so I ask, “Where were you this morning?”
Mackenzie toys with the earpiece of her glasses. “The infirmary.”
“Are you sick?”
“Not anymore. It was my own fault. Jayla’s parents sent her brownies for her birthday, and Eleanor convinced the main office to let us keep them if we promised to eat them all right away. And I knew they weren’t dairy-free, but I didn’t feel like being the new girl with weird allergies anymore, and I really, really wanted one, so I ate one.”
“Oh no,” I say. “Did you puke?”
“Three times.”
It’s so unfair that I had such a perfect night and my best friend had such a horrible one. I wish I had been there to convince her not to eat that evil brownie. “Oh man, Mackenzie. I’m sorry. Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Do you feel like swimming?”
“Not really. Can we go lie in the field and plan pranks?”
Willows vs. Wolverines Page 6
