Camp Confidential 06 - RSVP

by Melissa J Morgan

  “Or me,” Natalie said quickly.

  Pretty soon everyone was half-fighting to get Chelsea to sleep next to them. It had to be obvious that they were being overly nice.

  “Just so long as no one has BO or bad breath,” Chelsea drawled as she held onto her bag with one hand and fanned her face with the other. “I mean, it was bad enough at camp, inhaling everybody’s stinky foot odor, and we had lots of room between our bunks. Got any room deodorizer, Natalie? Because we sure need some!”

  Jenna dropped her sleeping bag on the floor.

  “I have had it with you!” Jenna cried.

  She stomped over to her laptop, picked it up, glared at Chelsea, and hit a button. Gaby’s recorded voice filled the room.

  “Knock it off! Knock it off!”

  Chelsea gasped. So did everyone else.

  Chelsea dropped her sleeping back and raced out of the living room, down the hall, and into the guest bathroom. The door slammed shut and the stupid motion-detector singing fish began to warble. The sound overlaid Jenna’s laptop as it continued to blare, “Knock it off! Knock it off!”

  “Turn it off!” Natalie implored.

  “I’m trying! I’m trying!” Jenna cried. She frantically punched buttons, but nothing happened.

  Anxiously, Jenna put the laptop into the “Fun Shack” and closed the trunk lid. It only served to muffle the sound a little.

  “Knock it off! Knock it off!”

  Jenna tried to open the trunk back up. “It’s locked!” she cried.

  “Get the key!” Natalie told her.

  “There is no key!” Jenna rattled the handle. “We lost it on our family vacation to Idaho!”

  “Oh, great. Then let’s get it out of here,” Grace told her. She pulled the decorations off the trunk and began to push it out of the living room. Jenna assisted her, guiding the wheels over the carpet.

  “Put it in the kitchen,” Jessie suggested.

  Natalie put out her hands. “Or in my mom’s office. Then we can at least shut the door!”

  While Grace and Sarah handled that, Jenna said to Natalie, “I have got to go apologize to Chelsea. I feel so stupid. I just lost it.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Natalie offered. “I’ll turn off the fish.” She said to Alex, “You guys get Chelsea’s present ready, okay? We’ll get her to come out and then we’ll give it to her.”

  “Got it,” Alex said.

  Natalie and Jenna hurried together to the bathroom door. Their approach signaled the fish to flap and sing all over again, until Natalie hit the “off” switch. Then she knocked softly on the door.

  “Chelsea?” she called. “It’s Natalie.”

  “And Jenna. I’m so sorry!” Jenna said through the door. “It was supposed to be a joke!”

  “You are so lying, Jenna Bloom.” Chelsea’s voice was muffled. She sounded as if she were crying.

  “Please come out,” Natalie said. “We have something for you.”

  “Uh-huh, what is it, a ride home?” Chelsea snapped.

  “No, it’s something we made,” Natalie assured her. “And we made it for you. All of us.”

  “Another thing you did behind my back! You just love doing stuff like that, don’t you, Natalie? It makes you feel really important.”

  Natalie flushed. She turned to Jenna. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Jenna made a face. “Your mom’s coming home at midnight, right?”

  “Oh, we can’t spend the whole sleepover like this!” Natalie cried. She knocked a little more loudly on the door. “Chelsea, please come out!”

  “Go away!” Chelsea cried. “Go away and leave me alone!”

  Natalie was stumped. What were they going to do?

  chapter THIRTEEN

  What a disaster! Alex thought as she faced her bunkmates and everyone just kind of stared at one another. Grace and Sarah had wheeled the trunk with the laptop into Ms. Goode’s office, but she could still hear it faintly saying, “Knock it off! Knock it off!”

  She wondered how long it would be until the battery ran out.

  “What should we do?” Karen asked her.

  Alex thought a moment. Finally she said, “We all know that Chelsea is upset about her dad.”

  “Because he’s sick and stuff,” Jessie said.

  “Yes.” Alex nodded.

  “Which is why she’s acting like a total jerk,” Grace huffed.

  “Yes.” Alex nodded again. Then she thought back to when she had gone into diabetic shock at camp.

  Chelsea had been the one to stand by her. It had been Chelsea who had rushed off to get her insulin kit. And Chelsea who had told them that she had a cousin who had juvenile diabetes, and what a horrible disease it was.

  Alex had been grateful not only that she had physically helped her, but that Chelsea, alone of all her bunkmates, understood that having diabetes was really awful. Chelsea was the one who had talked about it the most honestly, instead of just trying to cheer Alex up.

  “She’s not getting a chance to talk about it,” Alex said slowly, beginning to understand. “She’s been acting really bad, and we’ve been ignoring it because we feel sorry for her.”

  “That’s right,” Grace snapped. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her hands over her chest. “We have totally been letting her get away with it.”

  “That’s not what she wants,” Alex told her.

  As Natalie and Jenna walked back into the living room, Alex addressed them all.

  “Through the summer, and leading up to now, each one of us has had a problem. And the others have tried to pitch in and help. We’re just putting up with Chelsea. We’re not helping her.”

  Candace opened her arms wide. “But she won’t let us help her,” she said.

  “I know about being sick,” Alex said. “I know she’s scared.” Alex looked at each bunkmate in turn. “She has a right to be scared. Things might not go well for her dad. There’s no way to know.”

  “I get it,” Natalie said. “Chelsea needs to be heard. We’ve all been so busy trying to act like she’s not being a totally rude jerk or cheering her up that Chelsea hasn’t had a chance to be one of us—a bunkmate who needs her friends.”

  Alex raised a staying hand, then walked alone to the bathroom door. She knocked softly and said, “Chelsea, it’s me, Alex. I’m alone. May I come in?”

  After a few seconds, the door slowly opened.

  Chelsea stood in front of Alex. It was obvious she had been crying. But she kept her mouth pursed in a tight line and stared hard at Alex.

  Swallowing, Alex said, “We’re really sorry about your dad. Whatever happens, we’re here for you. You’re part of Bunk 3C, and we care about you.”

  Chelsea remained silent. But she didn’t go back into the bathroom.

  Alex walked her back to the living room. Everyone was standing—Grace, Natalie, Brynn, Jenna, Karen, Candace, Jessie, Alyssa, and Sarah.

  Brynn was holding their gift for Chelsea, a large object about the size of two school notebooks and three times as thick. It was wrapped in sparkly pink paper.

  “This is for you,” Brynn said, holding it out to Chelsea.

  Chelsea hesitated. “What is it?”

  “Open it and see,” Natalie urged her, stepping toward her.

  Studying the faces of her bunkmates, Chelsea reached out and took the present. As she slowly unwrapped it, Brynn explained, “We made this for you because we care about you. Not to go behind your back.”

  As Chelsea tore the paper away, the gift was revealed. It was a large scrapbook-style journal, with Chelsea’s Book written in silver gel pen on the black cover.

  “What . . . ?” Chelsea said, her voice cracking.

  Brynn sat her down. “It’s a journal for recording your thoughts,” she said. “And expressing your feelings, and remembering that you’re not alone in all this.”

  As Chelsea turned the pages, Natalie took up the thread. “We personalized it just for you. There are pictures of all of us at cam
p, and essays about different things we wanted to share with you.”

  “I wrote a haiku,” Alyssa said.

  “I made a magazine collage,” Natalie added.

  “Oh my God,” Chelsea murmured as she kept looking through the journal. There were photos and pictures cut out of magazines, arranged into intricate collages. Tiny envelopes held little notes, and stickers of flowers and angels decorated the borders of each page.

  Chelsea’s eyes welled with tears. “You guys worked so hard on this. For . . . me.”

  “Yes. For you,” Alex concluded.

  Chelsea broke down. Weeping, she covered her face with her hands. Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Alex touched her arm and shook her head.

  “When he got sick the first time,” Chelsea said hoarsely, “I was so . . . I was mad. I wanted to be like you guys, worrying about nail polish and horoscopes and boys, but what if he . . . then he got sick again . . . and I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t know what to do!”

  Chelsea cried and cried. And the girls of Bunk 3C cried with her, and each one in turn held her tightly.

  “We hear you,” Alex told her. “And we’re here for you.”

  By the time Natalie’s mother came home, Chelsea had joined the party—for the first time ever, really. She was wearing a long nightgown with Exeter Academy—the name of her boarding school—in a shield on the front. All the girls were in their pj’s, yakking and laughing. Five girls—Grace, Jenna, Alyssa, Brynn, and Candace—were watching the first movie Natalie’s father had ever been in. It was a really bad, low-budget horror movie. They were laughing so hard, they couldn’t sit up straight.

  “Hi, Mom,” Natalie sang out. Seated on the back of the couch, she was cradling the most recent issue of YM in her lap. The other five bunkmates—Alex, Sarah, Jessie, Chelsea, and Karen—were sitting on the carpet, which was protected by pages from the New York Times, while they painted their nails.

  “Okay, how many vote for the perfume personality quiz?” Natalie asked.

  Alex, Sarah, and Chelsea raised their hands.

  “Off the back of the couch please, Nat,” her mom said.

  Natalie scooted down. “Did you have a nice evening?” she asked her mom. Then, before her mom could answer, she asked the girls, “Okay, how many want to hear their horoscopes?”

  Jessie and Karen raised their hands. Chelsea did, too.

  “Chelsea!” Alex protested. “You can’t vote twice!”

  “Sure I can!” Chelsea insisted, laughing.

  The five girls laughed as hard as the ones who were watching the movie.

  “Yes, I did. Anything I need to know about?” Natalie’s mom asked, sounding amused.

  “It’s all good,” Natalie told her.

  “Well, I’m glad you ladies are having fun,” Natalie’s mom said. “I’ll say good night.”

  “Night, Mom!” Natalie called, still laughing.

  Her mother left the room. About ten seconds later, she reappeared.

  “What is Jenna’s trunk doing in my office?”

  Natalie covered her mouth. “We forgot!”

  She looked at the crazy mob of girls sprawled all over her living room. It seemed like forever ago that they had stashed the trunk in her mom’s office.

  “You forgot why it’s there or you forgot to take it out?” her mom asked. “Never mind. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Natalie said. Her eyes shone. “This is the best sleepover ever!”

  “You got that right!” Grace boomed.

  Everyone cheered.

  “Girls! Not so loud! It’s midnight!” Natalie’s mom admonished them. But she looked really happy.

  Almost as happy as Natalie herself!

  Everyone slept late on Sunday morning. Then Hannah called to tell Natalie that it was nice to meet all her camp girlfriends.

  Then she cleared her throat and said, “May I speak to Alyssa? You can stay on.”

  Alyssa got on the extension. Hannah said, “I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. Maybe you and I don’t have much in common besides Natalie. But she’s an excellent friend to each of us. Am I right?”

  “You are right,” Alyssa said. “Thanks, Hannah.”

  “Cool,” Hannah said, and hung up.

  Alyssa smiled at Natalie. “You’ve got an excellent friend, Nat.”

  Natalie grinned at her. “Yes, I do. In fact, I’ve got two!”

  Natalie’s mom treated everybody to a proper New York breakfast at Mavin Deli. She ordered piles of blueberry and cranberry bagels, and two large carafes of hot chocolate. Chelsea laughed at everyone’s silly jokes and then they all hung their spoons on their noses just like the dorky boys in Simon and Adam’s bunk. Natalie’s mom just shook her head and smiled.

  They finished their tasty breakfast and loped through Central Park. It had snowed during the night, and the large, naturally landscaped park in the center of New York City glittered and gleamed. Despite the fact that they weren’t dressed for rough-and-tumble play, the girls plunged into powdery snowdrifts and threw snowballs at one another, whooping with glee.

  “We’re all going to have to go soon,” Alyssa said, panting, as they took a break. “We have buses to catch, parents coming . . .”

  “I can’t believe our Camp Lakeview reunion weekend is almost over,” Natalie told her. “You were so awesome. You helped me so much. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Nat. Of course,” Alyssa said.

  They hugged.

  Then Natalie shouted, “Everybody, come here! Mom!” She held out her digital camera. “Take our picture, please?”

  Her mother had stood off to one side, giving the girls some room to roam. Now she strode over to Natalie and took the camera from her.

  “Okay, girls of 3C,” Natalie’s mom said, backing away as she looked through the viewfinder. “Everyone scoot in tight!”

  Snow began to fall as they put their arms on one another’s shoulders. Chelsea stood in the middle of the first row, a girl on either side of her hanging onto her, and she holding onto them.

  “Say 3C!” Grace shouted.

  “3C!” everyone bellowed, grinning at the camera.

  “Hi, Valerie!” Alex shouted.

  Everyone yelled, “Hi, Valerie!”

  “Hey! This snow tastes like Twizzlers!” Chelsea cried.

  At the exact same time, everyone tipped back their heads.

  “It does!” Natalie cried.

  “It totally does!” Alex yelled.

  “Well! This is going to make a strange picture!” Natalie’s mom protested.

  “It’s going to be an excellent picture!” Natalie corrected her.

  “You got that right!” Grace cried.

  The bunkmates cheered and hooted.

  They were the girls of Bunk 3C, truly together at last.

  chapter ONE

  Dear Hannah:I guess sometimes the truth really is stranger than fiction, huh? Or, the more things change the more they stay the same. Or even, a rolling stone gathers no moss? Whatever, I’m babbling, and you can feel free to insert your own cliché HERE. The point is that if this time last year you had told me that I would be RETURNING to Camp Lake-puke—voluntarily, no less—I would have laughed in your face. And then run away crying.

  And yet. Here I am, crowded onto a smelly, oversized charter bus and surrounded by kids singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” at the top of their lungs. And even though they are only at 87 bottles, and even though some of these kids couldn’t even make the first cut of “American Idol,” I don’t have the vaguest impulse to scream. In fact, I’m feeling pretty zen. I even chimed in for a bar or two, somewhere back around 81 bottles or so.

  Pretty amazing, huh?

  Not only am I not hating the thought of coming back to camp, but I’m even sort of excited about it. Mom shipped me out with a survival kit of soy chips and Powerbars well in advance this time around. No more tuna surprises for me! And I am all stocked up on magaz
ines. Alyssa’s here sitting next to me—she says hi—and Grace is somewhere up front, leading a small faction of non-singers in a rousing game of bus charades. It’s hilarious. And I can’t wait to see the rest of the girls: Jenna, Valerie, Sarah, Alex, and the other 3C-ers.

  And, um, a particular boy.

  Yes, Simon. He’s been awesome about writing and calling, as you know, but we’ve only seen each other once in person since the reunion. I’m going into serious withdrawal. I really, really hope he’s as excited to see me as I am to see him. But only time will tell, right? Right. I wish you were here to give me one of your patented pep talks.

  In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little nervous.

  Anyway, the natives are getting restless, which must mean that we’re almost there. That, and Alyssa just told me that we’re almost there. See how smart I am?

  I’d better sign off. Try not to miss me too much while you’re strolling along the Champs Elysées, eating chocolate croissants and shopping till you drop. You can feel free to send me some French truffles whenever the spirit moves you.

  Write soon,

  Natalie

  Natalie Goode capped her purple felt-tipped pen, folded her letter to her best friend, Hannah, into quarters, and tucked it into the front pouch of her backpack. She sighed contentedly. Hannah was spending the summer in France with her mother, a superglamorous foreign ambassador. Hannah’s parents traveled a ton for work, and over the summers they preferred to travel with their daughter, generally to various exotic locales.

  Not Natalie’s parents, though. Natalie’s mother was an art buyer, and summers were her time to scout new talent. And Natalie’s father . . . well, he had a pretty offbeat career.

  Natalie’s father was Tad Maxwell, a hugely famous movie star who mostly appeared in big-time action movies. He lived in L.A. full-time but was on the road a lot, shooting on location and doing press junkets for his various movies and stuff. Natalie missed him, of course, but her parents had gotten divorced when she was pretty young and so she was used to the situation by now. Her dad loved her; she knew that beyond a doubt, and she never took the time that they had together for granted.