Carly is in the stern, behind me, because that's where the best canoeist is supposed to be. Poodles called dibs on the bow. I'm in the crappy middle, the only spot that doesn't have a seat and requires painful kneeling.
“Did somebody fart?” Carly asks.
“Gross, no,” Poodles says.
“Well, I smell something.”
“Whoever smelt it dealt it,” I tell Carly.
“Maybe it's the turkey sandwiches,” she says.
“Turkey doesn't smell,” I say. Our lunches are packed in our canoe. Dinner (hot dogs), tomorrow's breakfast, and a scary-looking vegetarian option Rose refers to as veggie paste are in the cooler in the counselors' canoe.
“It does when it's been boiling in the sun for two hours,” Carly says.
“Can we take a break?” I beg. “My arms are killing me.”
We lift our paddles out of the water and balance them across the boat. Ah. That's better.
Also in our canoe are the tent and three plastic garbage bags (to keep stuff dry). Inside my garbage bag are my rolled-up sleeping bag, a towel, a change of clothes, and water bottles.
Cece, Liana, and Morgan are right behind us.
Poodles turns to face us. “Rachel, you're burning up. Did you put on sunscreen?”
“Yeah, but it doesn't seem to be working. You're bright red too.”
Carly passes us the bottle and we reapply.
I dip my hand into the calm water. “How much longer, do you think?”
“It's only eleven, so two more hours,” Carly replies.
“Isn't it beautiful?” Poodles says, admiring the mountainous scenery.
I gaze around. “Like I'm living in a postcard. If only it weren't so hot. I wish I could jump in.”
“Don't,” says Carly. “You'll never be able to get back on the boat without tipping us.”
“I know, I know,” I grumble.
Poodles cups her hand, scoops up some water, and dribbles it on her forehead. “Try that.”
I lean over and make my hand a cup and—
We rock to the right. Uh-oh.
We rock to the left. Uh-oh again.
“Careful, Rachel!” Carly screams.
We rock back to the left, and into the water we go.
Splash!
I land facedown in the lake, and the railing of the canoe smacks me on the calf. “Ow!” I wail. How in the world did I manage to do that? I didn't lean over any more than Poodles did!
Laughter echoes from a few yards away.
I lift my head above the freezing-cold water to see the girls in Liana's boat howling.
Did she do that? No . . . she wouldn't. She's my cousin. She wants us to be friends.
“They are so obnoxious,” a dripping-wet Carly grumbles, slamming her fists into the water. “Liana'd better not come back next year.” Her teeth chatter. “God, this lake is like the Arctic.”
“Damn, my paddle is floating away,” Poodles says, swimming after it.
Unfortunately, Liana is laughing the loudest, which makes me think, Whoever smelt it dealt it. Don't assume the worst, I tell myself. She had no reason to tip my boat. She wants to get along with me as much as I want to get along with her.
So why is she still laughing?
As I tread water, Miri's voice nags in my brain, telling me to give Liana the benefit of the doubt.
Carly grabs hold of her garbage bag and tries to keep it above the surface. She giggles. “You're such a klutz.”
“No worries,” says Poodles, floating on her back. “That was refreshing.”
“Help me flip the canoe back over,” Carly says, swimming to the boat.
We gather around and manage to turn it over while climbing in.
As we carefully reach over to pull in our stuff, I look across at Liana's boat.
Sorry, Liana mouths, smiling nastily.
The nerve! She did that!
Who does she think she's playing with? I'm a megel expert these days. I'll show her. Help me out, raw will! My fingers start to tingle. Raw will, don't let me down! I whisper:
“You're not so innocent, I'll bet.
It's your turn to get all wet!”
My arms feel rubbery and cold, and then I eagerly watch as Liana's boat sways to the right, then to the left, then back to the right—
Come on, come on, tip over!
—and then steadies itself.
Crapola.
Liana looks up at me and purses her lips, and the next thing I know, I'm back in the water.
“You've got to be kidding me,” Carly grumbles.
Some expert. Liana's the professional, and I don't even qualify for the PeeWees.
After two hours, we finally arrive at Harbor Point. We pull our canoes onto the beach, toss off our life jackets, and drag our stuff to a clearing a few yards away. Before setting up, we cool ourselves off in the water and then get ready to unpack our lunches.
Where are our lunches?
The food from our canoe has disappeared.
“You probably left it in the lake,” Rose says with a loud sigh. “You're lucky I packed extra veggie paste.”
Why do I have the feeling that Liana is responsible for this as well?
“Did you lose your drinks, too?” Liana asks. She reaches into her garbage bag and passes her water bottle to Carly. “You can have some of mine.”
“Don't drink it,” I say, my heart pounding.
Carly hesitates.
“Look, you want some or not?”
Carly shrugs and makes the reach.
“No, don't!” I shout, but it's too late. She's already guzzled half of it.
Carly blinks and then blinks again.
Then she looks at me with narrowed eyes. “What's your problem? I'm thirsty. Why shouldn't I drink from her bottle?”
That was fast.
“Yes, Rachel,” Liana purrs. “Why shouldn't she?”
“Because . . . because . . .” Because you've poisoned her into being your friend and hating me? “Because I saw a bug fly in.”
“I didn't see it,” Liana says. “Rachel, you're probably imagining things. Again.”
Carly laughs and my heart sinks. Forget my fly excuse; it's like Lord of the Flies around here. I'm losing people by the second!
“Here, Poodles, you can have some too,” Liana says, and offers her bottle to my last remaining friend.
Please say no, please say no!
“Nah,” Poodles says, giving Liana a pointed look. “I'm not into insects.”
After lunch, Poodles tries to talk me through peeing in the woods.
“Pretend you're on a toilet,” she says, her back to me.
“But I'm not on a toilet.” Instead of concentrating on getting the job done, I'm wondering if I should tell Poodles the truth. The whole truth, that is.
“Squat like you're in a public bathroom and you don't want your butt to touch the seat.”
Nah, I probably shouldn't. Tell her, that is, not squat. What if she tells someone? What if she mentions it to Harris? What if she thinks I'm crazy? My mom never told anyone—not even my dad. How can I blurt it out to someone I've known only a month? Instead, I say, “What if it goes all over my shorts?”
“It shouldn't if you're squatting properly.”
“But what if it does?”
“So take them off.”
I step out of my shorts and my bikini bottom and squat over the root of a tree. And then I try to pee. And I try again. “It's not coming.”
“Concentrate!”
This is harder than a megel.
It takes me about five minutes, but I finally get it. “That was disgusting,” I say. “Thank goodness for indoor plumbing.”
When I put my shorts back on, I notice they have a big ugly grass stain—right where the sun don't shine.
She couldn't have. Could she? I look around, but I don't see Liana. But that's no proof. Maybe she brought her own invisibility umbrella.
Next we tackle putting up the tent,
which is no easy feat, especially since Carly has switched teams and is now insisting on sleeping with Liana, Morgan, and Cece, even though they have only a three-person tent.
“Why would you do that?” Poodles asks, thoroughly confused.
“Because I'd rather hang out with them,” Carly explains.
“But you hated them this morning.”
“That's not true,” Carly huffs.
“Let her go,” I say. I know there's no hope. “More room for us. Let the other girls make space for her sit-ups.”
Two hours later, we're finally finished. I didn't think it would be a promenade in the park, but we take ten times longer than Liana's group. That was to be expected, since Liana totally used her superpowers to help her. Not that I'm surprised. Just envious because my powers aren't as developed.
When we finally do get our tent to stand upright, we discover a dinner plate–sized hole in the tippy-top.
“How on earth did that happen?” Rose asks. “I checked them all before we left.”
That's a question I know the answer to. What I'm wondering is why.
I corner Liana while she's taking a swim. “Why?”
She leans her head back to wet her hair. “Why what?”
“Why are you trying to make my life miserable? I thought we were going to be friends.”
“You mean why did I tip your canoe, steal your friends, stain your shorts, and give your tent a big fat hole?”
She's not even going to try to deny it? “Yeah, that.”
“Because I don't like you.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. That's the reason. You asked and I answered. Now get out of my way.” She strolls out of the lake like she doesn't have a care in the world.
I'm too shocked to respond. If she doesn't like me, then she could have zapped Raf into kissing her and then zapped the memory out of his mind just to ruin my life. What am I going to do? I take a few moments in the lake to compose myself. (Okay, that's a lie. I take a few moments in the lake because I'm afraid of the woods and I have to pee again, but that can be our little secret.)
It rains all night.
Now I understand the hole in the tent.
By the next morning, Poodles and I are both cold and shivering and not in the mood to paddle the four hours back to camp. Especially since the two of us are the worst paddlers ever and Carly seems determined to return with the others.
“Carly, we let you sleep in the other tent, but you have to canoe back with Rachel and Poodles,” Rose says, snapping on her life jacket. “They're not strong enough without you.”
“But there's room for me in Liana's boat!”
Rose puts on her I-mean-business face, which is the same as her mean face. “Tough.”
Ha! I silently apologize to the powers that be for every nasty thing I've ever thought about Rose. Carly is a top-notch canoeist and we need her. Unfortunately for us, as mean as Rose was, Carly is now meaner.
“Slide the blade in, Rachel, don't smash it. You keep splashing me.”
“I'm trying, I'm sorry.” Trust me, I want to do my best here. I'm dying to get back to camp as quickly as possible for several reasons. One, Liana is a witch. Two, Liana is evil. Three, I've thought long and hard about the Raf situation, and although I'm not sure whether I hallucinated the kiss, if I didn't, I'm sure that Liana is responsible. Either way, Raf thinks I'm acting crazy, so I have to apologize. Beg for forgiveness. Tell him I had a fever that night and was delirious.
Why did I even doubt him? That was what got me into trouble at the Spring Fling.
“Knuckles facing out, Rachel, knuckles facing out!”
I'm going to knuckle her in the forehead if she keeps this up.
“Can we take a break?” I ask an hour later, exhausted. “My arms are killing me.”
“I don't know why,” Carly snaps. “It's not like they're doing anything.”
I ram my paddle into the water, sending a spray up behind me. That one was on purpose.
As we approach the camp, I hear the lunch announcement on the loudspeaker. Perfect. In the mess hall, I'll be able to talk to Raf. Or kiss him. If I'm forgiven.
After dumping my stuff onto my bed, I run to the mess hall and head straight to Raf's table—Raf's empty table.
“They just left on their canoe trip,” Poodles tells me.
“Are you kidding me?”
“ 'Fraid not. Harris went with them. He left me a note.”
My shoulders sag in disappointment. “That sucks.” Now I'll have to wait another day before I talk to him. “At least they'll be back in the morning.”
Poodles shakes her head. “They went on a three-nighter. They won't be back until Thursday.”
“That is so incredibly sexist,” I cry. “They get to go for three nights, and we only go for one?”
“Did you want to stay longer?”
I shudder. “Not a chance.”
But three more nights in a Rafless world . . . I don't know how much more I can take.
After lunch, Rose lets us use the pool showers while bunk fifteen goes to Upper Field. I'm not sure if she's being nice 'cause she thinks we bonded during the canoe trip or if she just can't stand the smell of us, but who's complaining?
Liana, Morgan, and Carly go first, while Poodles and I wait on the pool bleachers.
Morgan and Liana are done first, and Poodles and I take our turn. I hang my bathrobe on the hook outside the stall and step under the burning water. Ah. Feels good. The hot water beats against my back and arms. When I'm done, I reach for my bathrobe.
And reach.
Where's my bathrobe? I push aside the curtain to find the hook empty. “Poodles!” I scream. “Poodles!”
“What? Do you need conditioner?”
“I need my bathrobe!”
“It's not there?”
“If it was, I wouldn't need it, would I?”
“Hold on, I'm almost done,” she says, and turns off the water. Through my peephole, I watch her inspect the pool area. “You're right. It's gone.”
“Liana,” I say. She is obviously responsible.
“That is so evil,” Poodles says, shaking her head. By now Carly is long gone too. It's just the two of us. “Stay here. I'll run back to the bunk and get you a towel.”
Poodles takes off, and I stand there shivering. While I wait, I summon my raw will and try to zap up a bathrobe. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to envision terry cloth. I feel something on my toes, and my eyes pop open. It's a facecloth. A teeny-weeny facecloth, not even large enough to hide my smaller boob.
I turn on the hot water to keep warm. I'm going to kill Liana. Kill her. Or at least get revenge. Don't get mad, get even, right?
After ten minutes, I think I hear a faint knocking at the door and quickly turn off the water. Actually, I have no choice. The water's gone cold.
I stick my head out the shower curtain and hear Poodles shout, “The door locked! You have to let me in!”
She's got to be kidding. Here goes nothing. I check the windowed pool walls to make sure the coast is clear, run to the door, pull it open, grab the towel, and wrap it around myself all in one swift move.
I can't believe I pulled that off.
Or not. From my new position, I see that I had a blind spot from the shower. Prissy and five of her starter camp friends are gaping at me through the window.
Could have been worse. Could have been the starter camp boys.
Even worse, the Lion boys.
“I know you took it.” I'm standing by our bunk bed, still in my towel, jabbing my finger at my cousin.
She looks up from Vogue and bats her lashes. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“She didn't take your precious bathrobe,” Morgan says. “We were right there. We would have seen her.”
“One of you took it,” Poodles says. “It didn't just disappear on its own.”
More than likely it did.
That's it. I
've had it. I can't sit back and take this anymore. No more fooling around. I need to get my magic up to speed ASAP. Fire needs to be fought with fire, not pathetic matchsticks.
This is no longer revenge; this is war!
I need Miri's help. Unfortunately, Miri still isn't speaking to me. I need a plan B.
“Why are you bringing an umbrella?” Poodles asks me the next day as we head to the beach for sailing. “It's not raining.”
“That cloud looks pretty threatening.” I put a hand on my stomach and groan. “You know what, Poodles? I'm not feeling well. I'm going to stop by the infirmary to see Dr. Dina. Tell the sailing people where I am, okay? And Deb, if I don't make it to GS.” Next stop, the Oscars!
I hurry up the road, but instead of going to the infirmary, I sneak into Miri's empty bunk. I aim right for her shelf and quickly rifle through her things until I find what I'm looking for: her faux pencil case.
I brought my own baby powder.
I sneak into the mess hall, break open the invisibility shield umbrella, sprinkle the powder on the pencil case, and spend the afternoon studying.
It's time for a crash course in revenge.
“Omigod!” Carly screams, pointing.
We've just returned from dinner, and as we turn up the hill, a skunk pushes out through the bunk's front door, runs down the stairs, and darts into the woods.
All five of us hurry into the cabin to see what the damage is. We follow the scent into the cubby room.
Carly is close to tears. “Which one did it get?”
Trishelle purses her lips and points to the cubby in the corner—the perfect cubby that looks like it's never been touched.
Liana's face is whiter than my sheets.
“That is such a shame,” I purr. “Really, Liana, I wonder why it chose yours?”
She clenches her fists. “I wonder why too. I can tell you one thing. That skunk is going to be sorry.”
Bring. It. On.
“Wake up, everyone, wake up!” Janice says, storming through our bunk the next morning.
I roll over in bed.
Spells & Sleeping Bags Page 18
