Finding Cabin Six

by Missy Robertson

  Patterson stuck his tongue out like he was gagging and strode away toward the mess hall.

  “Well, Kat,” Emma said, “I guess he’s still mad at you for breaking up with him.”

  “But,” Betsy added, “we can all tell that PG still hearts KC.” Then she nudged Mamaw with her elbow.

  The old ladies all giggled.

  “Stop this nonsense.” Mamaw laughed. “Stop it right now.”

  PG KC? Like from the old bench that is now my bed?

  No way.

  CHAPTER 25

  S.O.S.

  Mamaw and her cabinmates decided to take their own tour of the camp and I was pretty sure no staff person on the grounds would have the nerve to stop them. And since Madison and I found no one around to clue us in on the camp schedule for the afternoon, we had to make our way to the bulletin board near the box to find out where our people were.

  Madison ran her finger down the list of weekly activities until she came to Thursday afternoon.

  “Says here it’s an all-camp David and Goliath—again. I used up all my deceit the other day, Allie. And my head finally isn’t sore. Can we please find something else to do?”

  Just then, a parade of kids from Team Pinkeye came walking in our direction.

  “How’s Parker?” Ruby asked. “I’ve been praying for him, non-stop.”

  “Thanks, Ruby,” Madison said. “He’s going to survive. But I’m sure he’ll never go barefoot in the swampy grass ever again.”

  “Where are you all going?” I noticed that a couple of the boys carried buckets and some of the girls had plastic caddies filled with glass spray, sponges, and rolls of paper towels.

  “Well,” Hayley sighed. “Boys’ Cabin Four received the PIG AWARD for the third day in a row!” She glared at the boys on our team.

  The Pig Award is not a good thing. The Pig Award is given to the messiest cabin in camp. And you lose points for your team if you get it.

  “And so,” Julia continued, “Team Pinkeye has been assigned an S.O.S. for the afternoon so we can earn our points back.”

  “Does that mean we don’t have to play David and Goliath?” Madison’s eyes brightened.

  “No, it means that we don’t get to play David and Goliath,” Dylan Sharpie said.

  Madison put her hands on her hips. “Well, Mr. Cannonball, far be it for you to complain. If your cabin looks anything like what you did to the pool the other day . . .”

  “Team Pinkeye! There you are!” Miss Lindsey came jogging over to our sorry looking little group. “I hear you have an S.O.S. I’m so happy to have some extra cleaning and setting up help today. We have a big event coming up tomorrow, you know.”

  The gala. I need to figure out how to get into that.

  Miss Lindsey rubbed her hands together. “They’re delivering all the tables and chairs out to recreation field two right now and they’re dirty. So, I need you to go and clean them up.”

  I remembered what Miss Lindsey’s letter had said about the gala.

  Three hundred in attendance.

  That’s a lot of tables and chairs. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  “Now, if y’all do a good job, you’ll get your points back. Before that Pig Award, Team Pinkeye was in the lead, and girls’ Cabin Four, you had the most points in the whole camp.” Miss Lindsey smiled at Madison. “I hear your brother is recovering nicely. Hawk already has his snakeskin up on a plaque.”

  Madison hugged herself and shivered. “I never want to see that thing again.”

  Miss Lindsey hugged Madison. “I understand. That must have been so scary for you. But I hope you’ve had a good week besides that.”

  Madison grinned and looked over at me. “It’s been . . . uncomfortably amazing,” she said.

  For all of us.

  “Okay, then, let’s get out there and scrub!” Miss Lindsey led us out to recreation field two. Some men were working to put up a big white tent in the middle of the field so we had to stay close to the sides to wash down the rented white chairs and tables.

  After about thirty minutes, Miss Lindsey pulled me and Madison aside.

  “I have another job that will be perfect for both of you.” Miss Lindsey winked. “How would you like to sort through and set up the silent auction items?”

  That sounded much better than having prune fingers for the next two hours.

  Miss Lindsey took us to the camp office where loads of interesting items had been piled up and down the hallways.

  “I didn’t know you were having a silent auction too.” I picked up a small wooden sign that was a replica of the Camp 99 Pines sign that sits at the entrance.

  Miss Lindsey lowered her voice. “Well, the camp board has not given up hope that Mr. Gables will change his mind and either keep the camp or sell it to us. We have some money, but we need more to be able to make a reasonable offer. Having an auction is our best shot at raising the rest of the funds. It worked fifty years ago, when the Gables’ needed to raise insurance money to keep the camp open.”

  “How exactly does a silent auction work?” Madison asked.

  Miss Lindsey went to her desk and picked up a stack of card stock. “Well, all the items and services donated will be displayed on tables, and during the gala, people can make bids—the amount they would like to pay for the item—by writing the amounts and their names down on these forms. When the auction time is up, the name that has the largest bid next to it will be the person who ‘wins’ the item. They’ll have to pay us before they take the item home, so tomorrow night—Lord willing—we may end up with enough money to buy the camp.”

  I reached down to pick up what looked like a picture frame with a gift certificate in it.

  “One week at a beachside home in Maui? Someone donated this?”

  Miss Lindsey nodded. “We have some very generous people who love Camp 99 Pines.”

  Madison got a huge smile on her face. “I could ask my daddy if he could donate some signed Lunker Law souvenirs.”

  “I might just let you use the phone for that,” Miss Lindsey said.

  “And I can call our wardrobe director and see if she can bring some of the camo gear I’ve worn on the show. I bet some people would buy it for their daughters or granddaughters.”

  “Everything helps, Allie. But don’t forget to pray! We need that more than anything.”

  “Prayer is a pretty neat thing,” Madison said.

  For two hours, Madison and I wrapped auction items in cellophane, made fabric bows, filled in forms for each item, and grouped them in categories: gift cards, service certificates, trips, souvenirs, and an extra special category—Camp 99 Pines Memorabilia. That category had some cool stuff in it. Paintings on old bench wood, crosses that had been placed around camp over the years, murals of each years’ themes, and even old Camp 99 Pines T-shirts.

  “I wish I could be at the gala and bid on some of these things.” I pulled out the last of the tape from a roll. “Whoops! Need more supplies.”

  Madison and I took a break and went to the counselor’s supply room to get more tape. And that’s where we saw Parker’s copperhead—well, the skin—proudly displayed with the rest of the “snakes” on the wall.

  I walked up and ran my finger across the checkered skin. “God was really watching out for him,” I said. Above the skin was a Scripture, written in permanent marker:

  No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.

  Romans 8:37

  “Check this out, Madison. Every snake has a Bible verse to go with it.” I laughed. “Way to go, Hawk!”

  Madison shook her head. “You Christians can be so weird sometimes.”

  “Hey, don’t you mean we Christians?” I gestured between the two of us.

  Madison got a funny look on her face. “Yes. I guess I do mean we.”

  On our way back with the new roll of tape we ran into Mamaw and her old cabin friends.

  “Hi, girls! Do y’all need help with your S.
O.S.? We heard about the Pig Award. Sorry about those stinky boys messin’ things up.”

  “You can come and help us make some bows,” I said. “Mine are all crooked, and Madison can’t seem to choose any color except purple.”

  Madison reached over and pushed me off balance a little.

  They followed us into Miss Lindsey’s office, that was now overflowing with wrapped silent auction items.

  Pearl gasped. “This brings back memories of the silent auction we had that first year.”

  Betsy put a hand to her chest. “I’m holdin’ back tears right now.”

  “Do you suppose there’s gonna be a ‘silent’ silent auction too?”

  “Emma . . .” Mamaw put her index finger up to her lips.

  “I’m sorry, Kat.”

  “Don’t fret about it. Let’s just get the rest of these items wrapped.” Mamaw reached down and pulled some ribbon and scissors from a plastic bag on the floor. As she straightened up she caught me looking at her. I was giving her the Carroway “raised eyebrow,” which means—you’re hiding something, and I’m gonna find out what it is.

  I already found Cabin Six.

  And what’s a ‘silent’ silent auction, Mamaw?

  CHAPTER 26

  Helping Hands

  I couldn’t wait until dinnertime. That was when I would see all my cousins—and I was busting at the seams with information about, well . . . everything.

  “Madison, save me a seat next to you. I’ll be there soon.”

  I darted back and forth between the girls’ Cabin Five table and the boys’ Cabin Six. I grabbed up Lola, Kendall, and Hunter. And—oh, yeah, I almost forgot—Ruby, from my cabin!

  “Meet me at the box. I have information that could help us save the camp!”

  “But, I’m hungry,” Hunter said, as he looked down at his plate of fried chicken and tater tots.

  “Stuff it in your pockets and bring it with you. This is important!”

  In five minutes, we had all snuck out of the mess hall and were sitting cross-legged on top of the box. I showed them the “PG KC” rubbings I had made from my repaired bed wood, and I told them about the discovery of the girl’s Cabin Six foundation. Then I told them how we found out that girls’ Cabin Six was actually Mamaw’s Prayer Barn.

  Kendall gasped. “I knew somethin’ was special about that place!”

  I also filled them in on how there had been a silent auction the first year of Camp 99 Pines so they could raise insurance money to keep the camp running.

  And I told them how Emma—Mamaw’s former cabinmate in Cabin Six—had accidentally mentioned a “silent” silent auction and how Mamaw had shushed her.

  “Something went down at that auction. I don’t know what but I think all the girls in Cabin Six were involved.”

  “Whoa. It’s a full-on mystery,” Hunter said as he popped a tater tot in his mouth.

  “We’ve got to get ourselves into that gala tomorrow night,” I said.

  “But how?” Ruby asked. “We’re just campers.”

  I covered my face with my hands and wracked my brain for ideas.

  Lord, will it help for us to be there? If so, give me an idea.

  I popped my head up.

  “I’ve got it! I know how we can get to the gala!”

  “I’m in, no matter what it is,” Hunter said.

  “Us too.” Lola put her arms around both Kendall and Ruby.

  “Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll just have to pray it works. Tomorrow morning three cabins have to tie for the Pig Award.”

  I filled Madison and our cabinmates in on the plan as we were getting ready to go to the campfire talk.

  “You want us to mess up our princess cabin? I don’t know if I’m physically able to do that.” Madison looked like she was going to cry.

  “Our only chance is to get an S.O.S. I know they’re going to need help at the gala. We’ll ask if we can pour water, serve, scrape plates in the kitchen—whatever.”

  “I think we should have the boys scrape plates,” Madison said.

  Kendall laughed. “I bet Hunter would be happy to take care of the leftovers.”

  “Should we tell Bliss about all this?” Ruby asked. “I don’t want her to be disappointed in us for messing up the cabin.”

  “Hmmm. Let me think about that. She knows about the missing cabin, and she’s been hanging out with her Aunt Betsy all day. I bet she would like to be part of our little caper . . .”

  “Alive. That’s our word for tonight. If you asked Jesus into your heart this week, you are now spiritually alive.”

  I glanced over at Madison. She had Mamaw’s Bible open to 2 Corinthians, watching Bo intently, and she had a peaceful grin on her face.

  Thank you, God.

  “Take a look at chapter five, verse 17. The apostle Paul wrote this: ‘Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone. A new life has begun.’”

  Madison scribbled on her note pad, and though I couldn’t see what she wrote, I’m sure it wasn’t a note asking permission to leave this time.

  Bo continued, “But I know you’re probably thinking, ‘Hey, Bo, I don’t feel so new. In fact, I still have all the same problems I had before I accepted Christ. And those problems stink almost as much as boy’s Cabin Four! What should I do about that?’”

  Ha! Good one, Pastor Bo.

  Maestro jumped up on the platform and began strumming his guitar. And our counselors all got up and grabbed big rolls of craft paper from the floor on the stage.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do about those stinky problems—but only if you want to. We’re going to spread these papers all around the amphitheater and give you some pens. Outline one of your hands. Then—only if you want to—write that problem down inside the hand. Then hand it to God. After a few minutes, you’ll move to a different hand. Read what it says, put your hand on top of it, and pray for that person to really give it to God. He’s the only one who knows exactly what to do.”

  The music played and the counselors spread the papers out. Kids got up, slowly. But eventually—one by one—they each found a pen and a spot. I chose a spot that wasn’t near any of my friends or cousins—or that cute boy from California.

  Just me and you, God. Thanks for this time. I love this camp.

  I outlined my hand, and then while I talked some more with God I drew myself some fingernails. Colored them in. Then I drew knuckle wrinkles.

  Now what?

  I closed my eyes and prayed. Then I let the pen go. And this is what I wrote:

  Help me love people like you love them.

  And . . .

  Please save Camp 99 Pines. I can’t do it.

  That’s a hard thing for me to admit. That I can’t do something. I can’t save the camp. And I can’t save people. Only God can do that. But I can love them. God had been teaching me that all week with Madison.

  I don’t know how much time passed, but Maestro began playing a little louder, and sang a new song.

  Jesus, you’re the one . . .

  Who wipes away our tears,

  Who gives us hope and love,

  Who helps us in our fears.

  Jesus, you’re the one . . .

  There’s no one else like You,

  Who rose up from the grave

  And makes us all brand new . . .

  Jesus, you’re the one . . .

  “Okay, campers,” Bo said softly, “it’s time to move. Find another hand that stirs your heart.”

  I knew just where I wanted to go so I searched for that redheaded girl—the one that I had been trying so hard to care for over the last few weeks. And finally, at that moment, I cared about her problem more than anything else in the world. So I sprang over to where she had drawn her hand before anyone else could get there. And I read what it said:

  My heart hurts because of my parents’ divorce.

  Help me to forgive them.

  And at that moment, my heart broke for Madison Doonsberry. I
didn’t just feel sorry for her. I didn’t just feel sad for her. I felt like I was her.

  I pressed my hand on hers and prayed. And I cried like I’ve never cried for another person in my whole life.

  CHAPTER 27

  Getting Messy

  Now, girls, at least make sure you don’t get your pillows dirty!” Bliss held the hand sanitizer up in the air while we threw our dirty socks, shoes, candy wrappers, sleeping bags, and blankets all over the place. After our twenty-minute “pig” adventure, we landed on our beds, exhausted—while a few boa feathers floated to the ground.

  And then we got the major giggles.

  “I didn’t realize how much fun being messy could be,” Madison said.

  “Me either,” Ruby said. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on the boys.”

  “I just hope we win the Pig Award,” I said. “‘Cause there’s no way we can be as stinky as them.”

  More giggles.

  “You girls are the best,” Bliss said. “Three years of prayer really paid off.”

  An airhorn sounded and we all sat up straight.

  “The dinger’s gone again!” Madison yelled. And we all popped up and ran down to the box.

  “Good morning, campers! Welcome to your last full day at camp! I hope you all got a good night’s sleep . . .” Johan stared down the group, probably trying to scare last night’s dinger stealers, “. . . because we have our final activity for big points after breakfast.”

  Madison moved close to me. “What is it? Am I going to get dirty?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Wet and slimy, maybe. But only if we don’t build it well.”

  “Build what?”

  “Our swamp boat.”

  Every year, on the last day of camp, we take part in our own little auction—but it’s not silent at all. It’s more like a screaming auction. We use our cabin points as money and whoever yells their bid loud enough for Johan to hear gets whatever was up for bid. And in this case, the items are all inflatables—things we can tie together, and then float our whole cabin on, across Bluff Springs Lake—home of the Allibeaver.