Willows vs. Wolverines

by Alison Cherry

  Lina, Mom told me you got first place in the long jump at your camp’s field day. Congratulations! I was always the long jump champion too. We have Color Wars starting Friday night, which I think is a lot like Field Day, except it goes on for the whole weekend. I’m really hoping I’ll get chosen to be one of the captains. I know you’re not ready to go to sleepaway camp yet, but when you are, I think you’d like this one. We can go together, and all the younger kids will think you’re the coolest because you’re my sister.

  Mom, you know that green wig from my Halloween costume last year? Would you find it and send it to me? I think it’s on the second-to-top shelf of my closet. The fake-fur coat was a big hit. Sorry I keep making you send me random stuff, but you don’t mind, right? Riiiight?

  Abuela, thanks for the update on “Corazon de Hielo, Alma de Fuego.” I can’t believe Marianna turned out to be Federico’s stepmother AND stepsister at the same time! Are Luz and Umberto STILL in the desert? How are they not dead? Hasn’t it been, like, three weeks since they’ve had water?

  Love you guys, and I’ll see you in less than two weeks!

  Izzy

  CHAPTER 17

  During Free Time, I sneak off on my own, find a secluded spot near the horse barn, and try to write a fake letter from Tomás. It’s much harder than I thought it would be, and it takes four drafts before I’m able to replicate the sloppy boy handwriting Mackenzie did in her first letter. I sketch out my new prank idea, but I leave a few parts out so I can pretend to come up with them on the spot and impress the Willows. The finished letter looks decent, so I seal it in an envelope, address it to myself, buy a stamp at the Trading Post, and do my best to draw convincing postmark lines. It’s not nearly as good as Mackenzie’s letters, but hopefully nobody will look too closely.

  I volunteer for mail call again that afternoon, and everything goes according to plan. All the girls crowd around me when I show them the letter during Cabin Group. “Read it out loud,” says Roo.

  I do, and everyone is superexcited about the new prank. “I think this is his best one yet,” says Ava, and Val nods in agreement, which makes me really happy. It’s nice to hear that my solo pranks are more impressive than Mackenzie’s. I almost wish I could just tell everyone I thought it up on my own; I’m getting sick of giving so much credit to Fake Tomás when I could be showing Val how much of a leader I really am. But I’m still not positive the girls would take me seriously without Tomás’s authority behind me. What if I told them the truth, and it made them lose respect for me altogether? I have too far to fall at this point to take that chance.

  “How did Tomás know Stuart was going to be the Sea Witch?” Roo asks.

  Somehow I didn’t anticipate that question. “I told him,” I say. “I suggested that the Color Wars campfire might be a good place for a prank because we can humiliate the Wolverines in front of the entire camp, like they did to us.”

  “But . . . how did you know about Stuart?”

  “I found out from Josh,” I say. “That redheaded kid.”

  Roo wrinkles her nose. “Why were you talking to him? Are you guys friends?”

  “No!” I say. “Obviously not. I pretended to be friendly so he’d let his guard down, and then I weaseled the information out of him.” It makes me feel guilty to say that when Josh was so nice to me the other day, but if the Willows find out I actually kind of like him, they’ll never trust me again.

  “Good,” Roo says. “ ’Cause he’s the enemy, you know.”

  “Of course,” I say. “I would never betray you guys like that.”

  The week goes by much faster now that I have something to focus on. We work on our Sea Witch prank during Cabin Group every day, and whenever I start to think about Mackenzie, I force my mind back to ways we can make the prank scarier. Why should I waste energy imagining what she and Lauren are doing or what horrible things they’re probably saying about me? She’s the one who’s in the wrong. If she can’t accept that people make mistakes sometimes, maybe we should take some time apart until she calms down and sees that I’m right. I already tried to apologize to her twice. Now it’s her turn.

  Even fishing is a little better now that I have Josh to talk to. We can’t have our normal rivalry because neither of us ever catches any fish, so we compete at other things instead. Josh can throw stones farther than I can and hold his breath for longer, but I’m better at undoing knots quickly and keeping a straight face while he tries to make me laugh. I actually kind of look forward to seeing him every day, but when he asks me to have a race on the ropes course with him during Free Time on Thursday, I immediately say no. Hanging out during an activity we have to attend is one thing, but choosing to be in the same place on purpose is a step too far. The Willows would never forgive me if they thought I was seeking him out on purpose.

  By Friday I’m starting to think Josh might be right about how seriously everyone takes captain announcements for Color Wars. Summer and Lexi don’t eat any lunch or dinner because they’re too nervous, and Roo, who’s certain she’s going to be chosen, eats only protein because she needs to “fortify herself for leadership.” I’m glad I’m in charge of all the important parts of the prank tonight, ’cause I’m pretty sure nobody else would be able to concentrate. Of course, I’m still holding out hope that I’ll be one of the captains—if it were totally up to Val, I’m pretty sure I would be. But I know it’s not a guarantee, since most of the other counselors barely know me and only twelve kids in the entire camp get picked. So I try not to think about it too hard and focus all my energy on taking down Public Enemy Number One. Winning the prank war is way more important than Color Wars.

  As soon as dinner’s over, I start getting ready. I put on my bathing suit, then slip on the Sea Witch costume we’ve made. The base is a lightweight gray gown Val found at a thrift store when some of the counselors went into town for supplies. We’ve altered it so it has a raggedy, calf-length hem in front and a long, shredded train in the back that looks like tendrils of seaweed. Bailey painted the dress so it looks moldy and gross, like it’s been decaying in the water for ages, and the sleeves are all ripped up and covered in fake seaweed as well. Roo twists my hair up into a bunch of tiny buns, and Val helps me bobby-pin on the green wig, which Hannah has wrapped into chunky sections with green thread so that it looks like snakes. Then Hannah and Petra do my makeup: a base of green waterproof paint on my face and hands, dark hollows around my eyes, and a few disgusting fake wounds. They top it off with fake blood trailing from the corners of my mouth and one of my eyes, like Hannah’s clay skull.

  When we’re finally finished and I peek in the mirror, I almost gasp at my own reflection. I look terrifying. Roo brings out her camera, and I do all kinds of scary poses for her, including one where Val’s screaming as I pretend to bite her neck. That one’s going to be a big hit at the end-of-camp slideshow. I’m totally going to blow it up and hang it on my bedroom wall at home, too.

  “Ready?” Val asks me. “You’ve got everything you need?”

  I’m nervous all of a sudden, but I nod. “All I need is a lake, an audience, and Public Enemy Number One.”

  “You’re a champ, Izzy. I can’t wait to see this go down. Remember not to go into the water until Paige gets there, okay?”

  I sigh. “I really don’t need a lifeguard watching me. The water’s only, like, three feet deep where I’ll be.”

  “I know, but we can’t take any chances. Your safety’s really important to me. I’d watch you myself, but I have to be there for the start of the Color Wars ceremony or everyone will get suspicious.”

  “Yeah, okay.” It’s a little annoying, but it is nice that she cares so much.

  “You’re going to be amazing,” Val says. “I’d give you a hug for luck, but you’re kind of gross right now.” We air-high-five instead.

  Val promised there would be at least half an hour of regular campfire songs before the Sea Witch story, so I wait till it gets darker before I head toward the lake. I�
��m antsy and excited and can’t sit still; I’ve been in charge of the other pranks, but this is the first one that’s up to me and only me. If something goes horribly wrong, the Willows will have no one else to blame. I catch myself wishing Mackenzie were here to calm me down, but I push the thought away. She made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with this “stupid” prank war.

  When the sun finally goes down, I put on Val’s giant black hoodie over my costume, pull up the hood to hide my face, and tuck in all the green tendrils of my wig. I wrap the long train of my dress around and around my wrist so I can walk, and then I slip out of the cabin and go over to the lake. I can hear the sounds of singing as I draw near the campfire—they’re starting “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” But I turn before I reach them and head toward the dock, which is about fifty feet away on the other side of a small grove of trees. The other Willows told me that the “Sea Witch” always comes from that direction. I creep down the path as silently as I can, careful not to step on any twigs or crunchy leaves.

  I slip out of my hoodie and shoes and stash them behind a tree. When Paige the lifeguard finally arrives and flashes the secret signal Val arranged—three quick flashlight blinks—I unwrap the train of my skirt and let it trail behind me as I slip into the water. I dunk my whole body under to get my dress and wig wet, and then I crouch behind one of the dock’s pylons and wait for Stuart. Paige gathers up my clothes and waits behind the tree, so silent and still that it’s easy to forget she’s there.

  When I planned this prank, I had assumed the waiting would be the easy part. But it turns out time passes really slowly when it’s dark out and you’re wet and cold. The temperature of the lake has never bothered me before, but it feels way chillier now than it ever does during the day, especially with this clammy wig sticking to the back of my neck. I wish I could jump up and down to warm up, but I have to stay perfectly still—the rest of the campers aren’t that far away, and they might hear me splashing. They’ve launched into another song now, the one about making a purple stew, and I can’t stop thinking about how delicious a hot bowl of stew would taste right now. After a couple more minutes I start to shiver, and I clench my teeth together so Stuart won’t hear them chattering when he arrives.

  Just as I’m considering climbing back out and waiting on the bank, I hear footsteps crunching down the path. I hold my breath, pray that I don’t have a sudden urge to sneeze, and peek around the edge of my hiding spot. Stuart props his flashlight against a tree trunk, strips down to his boxers, and pulls on a long black dress and a messy dark wig. His costume isn’t nearly as detailed or scary as mine. Finally, he grabs the flashlight, turns it off, and slips into the water.

  I crouch behind my pylon, my eyes locked on him like a lion that’s ready to pounce on its prey. Game on, Wolverines, I think.

  And then, right on cue, silence falls over the campfire, and I hear Doobie’s voice, low and creepy. “Now it’s time for a grisly tale, a story that has terrified Foxes young and old since the beginning of time . . . the story of The Sea Witch!”

  Everyone hisses, and Doobie starts telling the story Mackenzie and I heard during Arts and Crafts our first week here. This version is much longer and includes lots more gory details, and I picture Hannah trembling. Stuart rubs his arms to keep warm, and I lurk quietly ten feet behind him.

  “The Sea Witch’s spirit could be lying in wait inside anyone at all,” says Doobie. “It could be any counselor, any camper. During the day, there’s no way to know the difference. She could be next to you at any moment. She could be on your soccer team. She could be eating spaghetti next to you in the mess hall. She could be lying above you in your bunk bed.

  “It’s only at night, when she enters the lake, that she takes on her true form: a haggard, filthy, terrifying monster, ready to drag unsuspecting campers to their watery doom!”

  This must be Stuart’s cue, because he turns on his flashlight, points it up at his face like he’s telling a ghost story, and starts making growling sounds as he splashes toward the campfire. I slip out from behind my pylon, duck down low in the water, and follow him. I try to glide silently along like an alligator, but it’s surprisingly hard to move in this dress, even with the hem ripped short in front. The long train keeps snagging on stuff—seaweed, probably—but fortunately, Stuart’s doing this weird, shambling zombie walk, and he’s splashing so much that he doesn’t hear me.

  A bunch of campers gasp and squeal as Stuart starts climbing the upward slope of the bank, revealing his waist, then his hairy thighs. His free hand is curled into a Sea Witch claw, ready to “kidnap” the first Color Wars captain, and the mass of kids seems to cringe away and lean forward at the same time, sparking with anticipation.

  When I’m sure he has everyone’s rapt attention, I let out a long, shrill, wild scream.

  A bunch of campers shriek along with me, sure it’s part of the show, but I can see from the way Stuart freezes that he’s confused, like the thief in Devil’s Alley. This isn’t how things are supposed to go; he’s supposed to be the only scary thing in the lake right now. The other counselors know it too, and a bunch of them half stand, ready to leap up and protect their campers. Stuart glances back over his shoulder and scans the dark water, but his eyes have adjusted to the firelight, so he doesn’t see me right away.

  I decide to give him some help.

  I surge out of the water with another deadly shriek and rush toward Stuart with both green-painted hands extended, my face twisted into a hideous expression. His eyes bug out under his ratty wig, and he stumbles a few more steps toward the shore. When I’m close enough, I take a flying leap and land on his back, piggyback style. He lets out a shout of genuine terror and drops his flashlight in the water as I wrap my seaweed-covered sleeves around his neck and lock my legs around his waist. As I poke my head over his shoulder and let out another piercing shriek, I see a camera on the bank flash once, twice, three times. Good old Roo—always there to capture the most dramatic moments.

  Stuart spins around and bats at my legs for a few seconds before he loses his balance, and we both crash into the shallow water. The shouts of the camp grow muffled as the lake closes over my head, and for a second I’m afraid he might fight back by holding me under. But when I come up for air, he’s fleeing toward the campfire, his black Sea Witch dress hiked up and clinging to his legs and his wig askew so that it covers one eye. It’s supersatisfying to see his face without its trademark smirk. I was planning to chase him a little longer, but he looks so ridiculous that I can’t keep it together, and I just stand there in the water and laugh.

  “Oh my god,” I gasp. “I got you! I totally got you! You were so scared! Willows rule! Wolverines drool!”

  The rest of the Willows pump their fists in the air and take up the chant, and as the other campers slowly realize what’s happening, they all start laughing their heads off. Stuart smiles and tries to act like he knew it was me the whole time, but he’s obviously shaken. Even Doobie is holding her hand over her heart like I gave her a good scare. My friends and Val stand up on their log and scream the Willow cheer, and I chant with them as I climb out of the water. One tiny boy reaches out to touch my dripping, seaweed-covered sleeve as I pass, and I hold up my hand for a high five. He slaps my palm, his eyes wide with wonder, and then stares at the smudges of green paint on his fingers like they’re magical.

  “Who is that?” I hear someone say as I dance past a group of Magnolias.

  “That’s Izzy Cervantes,” her friend answers. “She and her older brother are both pranking legends.”

  Part of me wants to look for Mackenzie; we’re not speaking, but I still want her approval, and I know she’ll love this prank. But then I remember what her face looked like when she said I’d become a huge show-off, and I decide it’s probably better not to try to find her in the crowd. I don’t want anything to spoil this moment. So instead, I glance over at the Wolverines and scan the group for Josh. He’ll be furious that I trounced the
m so badly based on the information he gave me, and I know his defeated expression will make my victory sweeter.

  But when I catch his eye, he actually smiles. It’s almost like he’s impressed with what I’ve pulled off, even though we’re enemies, and it’s actually even better than the anger I was hoping for. I smile back.

  CHAPTER 18

  When I finally reach the Willows, all the girls lean in to tell me how great I did. I sit down in the place of honor that Lexi saved for me between her and Roo, and Val wraps me in a huge, cozy towel and helps me unpin my wet wig. Even in my soaked costume, I feel warm and flushed with accomplishment.

  I ask Roo if I can see her pictures, and when she hands over the camera without making sure my hands are dry, I realize for the first time how tense and distracted my friends are. I was too focused on taking Stuart down to remember that the most important part of their night—captain announcements—hasn’t happened yet. I kind of wish I’d been able to do my prank at a time when people could fully concentrate on how awesome it was.

  Nobody else seems interested in the pictures, but I scroll through them anyway. There’s one of me on Stuart’s back where it looks like I’m about to eat his head, and he’s holding up both hands and screaming. For a second I actually think, I can’t wait to show this to Tomás, before I remember my older brother isn’t real.

  Doobie climbs up on top of a log and whistles with two fingers. “All right, everyone settle down,” she yells, and the whole camp goes quiet. “It’s time for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Emissaries of the Sea Witch, please approach and collect your anointing tools.”

  I have no idea what that means, but everyone else goes insane. On the log in front of me, a girl from Poplar clasps her hands like she’s saying grace and starts going, “Oh please oh please oh please oh please.” I glance over at Lexi and Summer, and even in the firelight, I can tell they look a little green. Next to me, Roo is completely motionless, tension radiating off her.