by Ahmet Zappa
Sure enough, the directions told her to cross the field like the campers, then take a short trail through a wooded area. Adora stopped at the edge of the trees. A rustic complex spread out before her in a large open space.
There were playing fields off to one side. Games were winding up, it seemed, and many centered on nets.
There was that one called “basket of balls” that Astra had talked about. And another with a long net stretched across a rectangular court, where Wishlings hit a small green ball back and forth using smaller nets. Some shouted “Service!” before hitting the ball, as if they expected a Bot-Bot waiter to come and take their food orders.
It all seemed rather silly to Adora.
Adora looked at the other side. Large tents, built on solid wood platforms, ringed half the clearing. Beyond the trees she spotted a lake with a small sandy beach, floating docks, and canoes that looked too heavy to hover like the ones back home.
Large ramshackle buildings filled the center of the clearing. Each building had a sign in front: OFFICE. NURSE. MESS HALL.
Then she thought she must have misread one of the signs. She paused and read it again: “‘Mess hall.’”
Adora knew Wishling homes didn’t have self-cleaning capabilities. Maybe at camp they just threw all their garbage into that one building.
A stream of Wishlings was heading into the mess hall as she watched. No one carried trash.
Then she spied the group of wee Wishlings she’d seen earlier. They were hurrying inside. Could they possibly be eating lunch there? She made a mental note in her Cyber Journal: There is a strong possibility that Wishling campers eat garbage.
Adora edged closer to the mess hall. She looked through a window and was relieved to see Wishlings sitting at picnic tables, eating what appeared to be regular Wishling food—not scraps of paper or old torn socks.
She was just about to amend her observation when one girl called out, “Where’s the bug juice?”
Adora shivered. She’d just stick to water there. And she’d keep the observation in the journal, just in case.
Just then, a man hurried past, talking into a device like a Star-Zap but much clunkier. “Uncle Hal to Chef Jeff! Uncle Hal to Chef Jeff! Come in, Chef!”
Adora heard a crackling sound, and an indistinct voice answered.
“Running late,” the first man continued. “Do not start lunch without me. Repeat: do not start lunch. First-day protocol must be maintained: Uncle Hal announces camp rules and greets campers. Repeat: first-day protocol must be maintained.”
Adora was fascinated by this Wishling male, not a type she’d seen before.
The man—Uncle Hal—wore a T-shirt with a picture of a big brown creature on it. The creature had four legs and what looked like a big empty coatrack attached to its head. Beneath the picture, there was writing: Director, Moose Lake Camp.
Uncle Hal wore a big floppy hat, too, along with baggy shorts and white socks that went up to his knees. His nose was covered with some sort of white cream.
Uncle Hal stopped short when he noticed Adora by the mess hall. “Young lady!” he called out. “Did you just arrive? I need to make sure our campers and staff are accounted for. That’s my job and my privilege.”
Adora waved at a group of girls about her age walking past. One girl, with short curly hair, waved back and smiled.
“I’m with them,” she said, not answering his question.
“Oh, you’re a CIT,” Hal said, flipping through pages on his clipboard.
“Hmmm. It seems like everyone checked in already. Odd. What is your name?”
Adora looked him in the eyes and said, “My name is Adora. I’m a CIT.” (She almost giggled. What did that even mean?) “You don’t see my name on your list. But it doesn’t matter.”
“Hmmm,” the man said again. “Your name is Adora. You are a CIT. I don’t see your name on my list but it doesn’t matter.” He sniffed the air and lowered the clipboard. “Welcome, Adora. Do you smell prune bran muffins?”
Adora had learned about lots of foods in her Wishers 101 class. But prune and bran? Those were new ones.
“Never mind,” Uncle Hal continued. He grinned, and Adora couldn’t help smiling back. He was goofy and a little self-important but nice. “You can call me Uncle Hal.”
Without waiting for a reply, he went on. “Right now, it’s time for lunch.” He puffed out his chest a bit. “Of course they won’t start without me.”
Adora snuck a look at her Star-Zap, trying to figure out if her Wisher was inside the mess hall. No, her Wisher was—
“Adora!” Uncle Hal said sternly. “There are no cell phones at camp. You should know that.”
“Oh! Of course!” Adora said quickly.
“You must bring it to the office. They’ll hold it for you there. And you can pick up your camp T-shirt at the same time.”
“Yes, I’ll do that before lunch,” Adora told him. She had no intention of letting the Star-Zap out of her sight for one starmin. It was too important a tool.
Uncle Hal nodded, then strode off to the mess hall. Idly, Adora wondered if he was indeed anyone’s uncle.
Smiling, Adora walked away, checking her Star-Zap. It directed her to the waterfront. Quickly, Adora made a detour to pick up the shirt—marked with the words Counselor in Training.
So that’s it, she thought. CIT!
After stuffing the shirt in her backpack, she hurried to the lake.
It was pretty there. The water was a soothing shade of blue. A circle of tall, leafy green trees provided shade. And the brightly colored canoes were lined up on the side of the beach. She walked closer, peering all around.
Where was her Wisher?
Adora looked down at her watch. It glowed slightly. She was getting close. She edged to the canoes. Her Wish Pendant brightened.
“Hello?” she called. “Anybody here?”
No one answered, but Adora thought she heard a noise.
She walked to a large silver canoe and squinted at a shadow between the seats.
It was a girl, sitting on the canoe’s bottom and leaning back so she was almost lying down. She had big green eyes and straight brown hair that fell to her shoulders, and she wore a Moose Lake CIT T-shirt.
Yes! Adora’s Wish Pendant glowed with a brilliant light. She’d found her Wisher!
“Hello,” Adora said.
The girl in the canoe turned away, as if she couldn’t bear to face her. “Are you looking for me?” the girl asked quietly.
“Yes,” said Adora, stepping into the canoe. It wobbled a bit, so she quickly sat down in the nearest seat at the other end. “I’m Adora.”
The girl mumbled a response.
“What?” said Adora loudly.
The girl said even more quietly, “My name is mumble mumble.”
“Speak up!” Adora said a little brusquely. This was getting tiring. What was so difficult about saying your name?
The girl sat up, her fair skin turning a bright red. “My name is Hannah.”
“Okay,” said Adora. “So, Hannah. Do you want to get lunch?” Traveling through space had made Adora very hungry, and she thought she could feel out her Wisher as they ate.
Hannah shook her head.
“Why not?”
Hannah shrugged, then slunk back down to the bottom of the canoe.
Well, if this Wishling could wait to eat, so could Adora.
She considered the situation: what would be the fastest way to identify the wish? If she took care of everything quickly, she’d be back home in the blink of a star—and be the first Star Darling to grant a wish all on her own. That would be something.
Adora favored the direct approach. What if she just asked outright?
“Hannah, do you have a special wish?”
“Huh?” The girl was so startled that she spoke loud and clear.
“Do you have a special wish?” Adora repeated. She sat back, waiting patiently—except that she couldn’t stop tapping her toe.
&nb
sp; Hannah drew herself into a ball, her arms hugging her legs. She looked for all the worlds like a Starland pricklepine curling up for protection.
Adora sighed. This wasn’t going well at all. “Clearly, you’re a shy Wish—I mean, girl.” She smiled widely, if a little falsely. “Some of my best friends are shy.”
That was the truth. Adora considered Cassie a friend. Yes, Cassie was outspoken about her conspiracy theories, and she’d managed a Wishworld mission just fine. But she’d barely spoken to anyone her first double starweek at school. And she’d dreaded going on a mission until that poisonous nail polish had made her annoyingly braggy.
Maybe this girl was new at camp. Maybe she needed to be drawn out of her shell. That wasn’t Adora’s strength, but she’d give it a try.
“I’m new here,” she told Hannah. “Is this your first time at camp, too?”
Hannah shook her head. “It’s my fifth summer,” she whispered.
Well, there went that idea. Suddenly, Adora had another idea. She reached into her backpack for the four-leaf clover. “Here,” she said, handing it to Hannah.
Hannah’s eyes widened. “A four-leaf clover. For good luck!”
“Go on,” Adora urged. “Make a wish.”
Hannah blushed, turning her back to Adora. “I-I-I…” she stuttered. Then she stopped.
Clearly, Hannah wanted to make a wish. She just didn’t want to make it in front of Adora. “I’ll step away,” said Adora, pleased with herself for understanding the situation so well.
She climbed out of the canoe and walked to the edge of the lake, deliberately leaving her Star-Zap—set on record—on the canoe bottom.
She waited a bit, counting—“one Starland City, two Starland City”—until she reached a hydrong, then returned to Hannah.
“Oops!” she said. “I left my cell phone here. I’m not even supposed to have one! I’d better bring it to the office.”
Adora moved out of Hannah’s earshot, then played the recording: “I wish I had the confidence to make friends,” Hannah said, her voice thin and quiet.
Wish identification accomplished! Adora allowed herself a starsec to savor her success.
If she could help grant the wish right then, she’d definitely have the record for fastest time. “Not that I’m competitive,” she added to herself under her breath. She turned back to Hannah.
“So,” she said brightly, “I really think we should go to the mess hall. There are some girls there who seem really nice. You seem nice, too. Maybe we can all be friends!”
Hannah stood up, rocking the canoe. “You were eavesdropping!”
Adora groaned. Now they were back in that fuzzy area of truth versus lies. Was it okay telling a little light lie to grant a wish? In all fairness, that was a technicality. Strictly speaking, Adora had heard the recording, not Hannah as she was making the wish.
“Star—I mean, I’m sorry, Hannah,” Adora said. “It was none of my business.” (That actually was a lie. Hannah’s wish was most certainly her business.)
Hannah sank onto a canoe seat. “It’s all right, I guess. You’re new here. You’d like to make friends. I understand. But you see, I did have friends here. Two best friends. We started camp together the first year we were old enough for sleepaway. We were close right from the start. Uncle Hal called us the triplets. Every summer was fun. And we kept in touch during the school year, too.”
Hannah’s voice caught, and she paused. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears.
Adora nodded encouragingly. But she couldn’t resist a look at the Countdown Clock on her Star-Zap. She was definitely on track for breaking the wish-granting record.
“But this year, my friends didn’t come back,” Hannah continued. “One is traveling with her family. The other decided to go to science camp instead.”
Science camp? Really? Why couldn’t that girl have been my Wisher? Adora wondered. It would have been a much better match. This Wishling was a wreck!
“And my parents didn’t tell me any of this until the day before camp started,” Hannah whimpered. “So I had to come! And now I’m here alone.”
Finally, tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Well, you’re not really alone,” Adora said logically. “You’re surrounded by girls your age and other people. Were those other CITs here other summers, too?”
“Some,” Hannah admitted.
“And do you like them?” Adora prodded her.
Hannah shrugged. “I guess so,” she said.
“So just go up to them and talk. They’re in the mess hall right now!” There, she thought. Problem solved. Wish granted.
“It’s not that simple,” said Hannah.
“It can be,” Adora insisted. “You’re talking to me, right?” Then she added quickly, in case Hannah thought that she could be her new friend, “You should know I’m only a…a TCIT—a Temporary Counselor in Training. I’ll be leaving very soon.”
“I didn’t know that was allowed,” said Hannah eagerly. “Maybe I can be a TCIT, too, and leave with you?”
This isn’t working at all, Adora thought exasperatedly. “Uncle Hal said he’d make an exception for me, just this once. It turns out I have a family emergency. Something really bad happened. To my house. And we have to…to move and…and…other stuff!”
Adora stopped, realizing she’d just told outright lies. She’d expected to tell some. After all, she couldn’t be on a strange planet and fit in without lying. But she hadn’t thought they would be such big fat ones.
“Oh!” Hannah cried harder. “You’re going through something terrible. And here I am, so worried about myself and my problems! I feel horrible.”
This was even worse. Awkwardly, Adora put her arms around the Wishling. “There, there,” she said. “Don’t cry.”
Hannah sobbed.
Adora raised her voice and said, “Don’t feel bad on my account. Really.” These lies were definitely backfiring! “I have another idea for how you can make friends. And it will make me feel better if you feel better.”
“Okay.” Hannah wiped her eyes.
“Do all the CITs share a tent?”
“Yes.”
“So it will be like a sleepover every night!” Adora exclaimed. “You’ll definitely make friends. You know, whispering in the dark, sharing secrets.” Adora didn’t know much about sleepovers, actually. But that’s what happened when Libby had one right before Piper’s mission.
“I chose the bed in the corner, away from everyone else. I’m too far to whisper. So that’s not going to happen.” Hannah sniffled.
“What about your CIT job? Won’t you be working with other girls?”
“No, I’m helping with arts and crafts. Uncle Hal is in charge, and I’ll be his assistant. That’s why I’m just hanging around today. There aren’t any special activities until tomorrow.” She sniffled louder.
Oh, starf! Was Hannah going to burst into tears again? Why was this Wishling so emotional? They were such an unlikely match!
“You should just leave,” said Hannah, sensing Adora’s annoyance. “Go on. You can hang out with the other CITs.” She reached to the ground, tracing a sad face in the sand.
Adora frowned. Now Hannah didn’t even want to talk to her. She’d rather draw starmojis in the sand.
Just then, Adora heard a strange buzzing. From the corner of her eye, she spied a tiny winged creature flying around her head. Peering closer, she saw it had a yellow-and-black-striped body and looked a bit fuzzy—like a glitterbee without the sparkle.
Two more Wishworld insects flew down from some sort of nest in a nearby tree. They joined the first, and then even more swarmed closer. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
Adora held out a finger, hoping one would land on her so she could observe it more closely.
“What are you doing?” Hannah jumped out of the canoe. Her voice rose in panic.
What was with that Wishling? One starmin you could barely hear her speak; the next she was practically shrieking. It was like Hannah
was on an emotional star coaster.
“Obviously, I want to get a closer look,” Adora said, trying not to snap. It would be an interesting observation to add to her journal.
“Those are bees! You’re going to get stung!”
Stung? Glitterbees were sweet and gentle. On Starland, no insects or bugs had stingers, and it took a moment for Adora to realize what that meant. She sat very still and considered the situation. Should she stay close to the bees as an experiment? What would a Wishworld bee sting feel like? Would it be worth it to be able to make an accurate observation?
In the end, Adora decided against it. And that was just as well, since the bees were flying over to Hannah, attracted to her movements.
The bees circled Hannah as she moved left and right, trying to dodge each one. Some landed on her arms and legs. One landed on her nose.
“Ouch! Ouch! They’re stinging me!” she cried, batting them away.
Adora started running toward the dock. “Follow me!” she cried. Hannah followed close behind her. “Now jump in!” Adora commanded. Hannah hesitated for a split second, grabbed her nose, and leaped.
A moment later, she popped to the surface. “That was really smart,” she told Adora as she paddled to the shore. She shook herself. “I just wish I had taken my sneakers off first.”
“You did what you had to do,” said Adora. “I’m glad it worked.”
Hannah held out her arms. “Look at all those bee stings,” she said. “They really hurt.”
Adora examined the red bumps individually. Curious, she touched the one on the end of Hannah’s nose. Hannah flinched.
Adora watched the bump get smaller…and smaller…and smaller…until it disappeared.
“Hey, my nose doesn’t hurt anymore!” said Hannah.
Adora touched another sting, on Hannah’s arm. That one disappeared, too.
“That’s crazy!” said Hannah, holding out her other arm to show Adora more stings.
Adora touched the red spots one by one. They all disappeared.
“Wow!” Hannah said. “How did you do that?”
Thinking quickly, Adora spotted a bottle on a nearby picnic bench and picked it up. The label read SPOT-ON SUNSCREEN. Adora had no idea what sunscreen even was. But when she opened it, it looked like the cream Uncle Hal had been wearing on his nose. She figured it wouldn’t hurt Hannah. And it wouldn’t hurt to tell just one more little light lie.
