“Who are you to waltz in here at four thirty in the afternoon and call it a train wreck?” Jenna shouted in Lainie’s direction. “What do you know about protests, anyway?”
Lainie just laughed. “I know what works,” she replied. “The people you’re protesting for aren’t going to be experts in what makes a good protest, either. They’ll just know what moves them. And I can tell you, that didn’t move me—except out the door.”
Sloan was shaking, she was so upset. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried. “You know what makes a good protest? Heart! And we’re all pouring our whole hearts into this. If we stand up for ourselves and tell congress what we truly think and feel, there’s nothing more powerful than that!”
Lainie shrugged. “If you say so, honey.” She slipped out of her row of seats. “All I know is, this isn’t worth my time.”
Brynn watched Lainie leave, still looking angry but also curious. “What would you change?” she called after Lainie.
Lainie turned on her heel and laughed. “Everything?”
Brynn shook her head. “Seriously, though. You tell me what you didn’t like. What’s wrong with what we’ve got?”
Lainie looked thoughtful. “Okay,” she said. “For one, I couldn’t hear a thing you said.”
Brynn nodded. “Okay. That’s fair. But we’ll bring microphones.”
Lainie sighed. “But that’s not all. That almost makes it worse. If they can hear, they’ll hear how ridiculous you sound. Nothing you guys are saying makes sense, Brynn. That song? Amateur hour. The art thing? Totally mumbly and obvious. And Gaby’s story?” Lainie laughed. “I don’t think it’s playing the way you want it to play.”
Brynn sighed and turned to Sloan, who still looked furious.
“Get out of here, Lainie,” Sloan insisted. “You’re not helping us, fine. We don’t need your help.”
Lainie shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She pivoted and, in a few seconds, was gone.
There was silence in the auditorium. Nobody seemed to know how to react. It was like Lainie had popped their balloon; they could try to keep playing with it, but they all knew something was wrong.
“It’s a good protest,” Sloan said quietly. “What does she know? We’ll make it work.”
But Brynn was staring at the floor, her mouth set in a tight line.
“She’s right,” Brynn said finally. “Guys, this isn’t working.” She sighed. “We have to come up with a great idea—something to save this protest, fast.” She paused. “Or we may never get the chance to save Camp Lakeview.”
A quiet murmur went through the crowd as the girls reacted. Jenna was surprised, but she knew Brynn was right. They’d have to come up with something. For now, though, she needed to talk to David—even though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.
But when she turned around to where David had been standing, he was already gone. She caught sight of his red T-shirt as the doors closed behind him.
Jenna shivered. Suddenly the auditorium felt a little chilly.
chapter SEVEN
Dear Michael,
Sorry I haven’t written in so long! It’s not because I don’t miss you—I miss you like crazy. It’s just that it’s been nuts here and I’ve been super-busy. A few days ago, we found out that Camp Lakeview is scheduled to close next year. Something about the state needs a new highway, blah blah blah. Anyway, we’ve been totally messed up over it—let’s just say we’ve gone through LOTS of Kleenex in the past couple days! But one of my bunkmates, Sloan, came up with a plan, and now we’re going to go to the state capitol to protest the camp closing! I’m so excited, but also stressed out. We have to come up with a really good plan for the protest if our camp leader is going to let us go. And of course, I’m kinda freaked out about camp possibly closing and having to leave all my friends . . . but that won’t matter if our protest works.
Oh, I almost forgot, I got a letter from Cassie the other day talking about her little trip to surf camp! It sounds like she had a really good time. She actually was saying how she thinks I should go with her next year—but of course if this whole protest thing works out, I won’t. I belong at Camp Lakeview with all of my friends.
Love ya,
Tori
“Okay.” Brynn took a deep breath and put her notebook down on the table in front of her. “I hereby call to order our official brainstorming session for the protest to save Camp Lakeview! First, the rules of brainstorming. There are No stupid ideas! Got it? We never know what might work.”
Jenna nodded. “Fair enough.”
Gaby raised her hand. Tori looked over at Brynn and thought she looked a little hesitant as she said, “Go ahead, Gaby.”
Gaby smiled. “I thought we could really make a statement with our protest. Like, you know those ‘truth’ ads on TV about smoking, where all these people pretend to be dead bodies in front of the cigarette companies?”
Sloan nodded. “Sure, okay.”
“Well, I thought we could all dress in white and then pour ketchup all over us to look like blood! And then we could lie in the street with a big sign: CAMP LAKEVIEW’S CLOSURE IS KILLING US.”
Brynn was speechless. Sloan glanced over at her and poked her with her fork. “Are you writing this down?”
“Um,” Brynn muttered, scrambling into action. “Sure. Great. Um, thanks, Gaby. Who’s next?”
Tori looked around the table at her bunkmates. Priya raised her hand. “Well, people really like puppies, right?”
Tori glanced around at her bunkmates, who all nodded. Hard to argue with that.
“I thought maybe we could borrow some puppies,” Priya continued. “From a local shelter or a pet store or something! It would bring attention to us, and then maybe we could give them out to people who promised to support us?”
“Wow,” breathed Brynn.
“I know!” Priya smiled. “It’s out there. But you have to admit, it would definitely draw some attention!”
Brynn nodded slowly, scrawling in her notebook. “Okay,” she said. “Who’s next?”
They slowly went around the table, everyone shouting out the three ideas they’d been charged with coming up with the night before. To Tori, none of the ideas really made a lot of sense—even her own, to team up with a local boutique and have giveaways, or to learn the congresspeople’s favorite songs and play them, or to get their parents involved. Her heart sank as she realized that nobody had thought of an idea that might save the protest. What on earth could they do?
“All right,” Brynn said finally, looking over the ideas in her notebook. “Good effort, guys. We have a lot of really . . . interesting . . . ideas here.”
“Oh, who are you kidding?” Chelsea cried, shaking her head over her waffles. “These ideas are all crazy. We don’t have anything here that makes sense or would make the protest work!”
“Come on, Chelsea,” Sloan cautioned, leaning over to look at Brynn’s list. “There are a few usable ones here. What about mine?”
Chelsea looked indignant. “To all dress up like mimes and just cry?”
“Weep silently,” Sloan corrected.
Chelsea made a face. “We’re so doomed.”
Tori spoke up. “Why don’t we pick out the few that are actually . . . doable? Like, we could actually accomplish them by tomorrow.”
Brynn nodded. “That’s a good idea. Okay. I’ll read them all off . . .”
A few minutes later, they had a list of four ideas.
“All right,” Sloan said. “We’ve got it down to Brynn’s idea to write the protest into a musical, Jenna’s idea to make it into an athletic competition, Nat’s idea to have a fashion show, and Candace’s idea to give away candy.”
“Um, technically,” Candace broke in, “we could give away candy with whatever else we end up doing. You know. We just need to buy a couple bags of Snickers or something.”
Sloan nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” she said.
Brynn sighed. “Should we vote?”
she asked. “Everyone in favor of the athletic competition?”
Jenna and Alex raised their hands.
“Everyone in favor of the fashion show?”
Nat, Priya, and Chelsea raised theirs. Tori was a little tempted to vote for that one but eventually decided that she was still too annoyed with Nat to support her idea.
“Everyone in favor of the musical?”
Tori and all the remaining girls raised their hands. They had a clear winner.
Brynn looked around the table, nodding. She didn’t exactly look excited that her idea had won. In fact, she looked kind of . . . tired.
“Wow,” Brynn breathed. “Okay. I guess that’s it, then. We turn our protest into a piece of musical theater.” She turned to Sloan. “Overnight.”
Sloan looked nervous, but she smiled tightly and nodded encouragingly. “Right,” she agreed. “I’m sure we can do it! You’re such a theater pro, Brynn. This will be a piece of cake.”
Brynn looked less than convinced, Tori thought. She looked to Becky. “Um, can I stay out of my activities today to work on this?” she asked.
Becky nodded. She looked like she was feeling a little sorry for Brynn. “Do what you need to do, Brynn. And let us all know if you need any help.”
Brynn nodded. “Okay.” She looked around the table. “I’m going to get started right away, I guess. If you guys could come by to help whenever you have free time, I’d really appreciate it. And plan on meeting during siesta again to rehearse.” She paused. “I think we’re going to need a lot of rehearsal.”
The whistle that signaled the end of breakfast sounded, startling everyone back to reality. Tori stood up slowly and gathered her things. She had archery now, with Nat. They hadn’t spoken at all since their little blow-up at lunch two days ago, and she wasn’t sure what would happen now—would they keep giving each other the silent treatment? Or would a couple hours away from the rest of the bunk give them the time they needed to make up?
She glanced over and saw Nat staring moonfacedly over at Logan’s table, biting her lip.
Tori shoved her chair back under the table with a little too much force. Then she took off, deciding not to wait on her friend.
“Nice try!” Kara, one of the counselors who taught archery, appeared behind Tori and gently took the bow from her. “What you want to do is angle it just a tad more to the right. Like that. That will give you a little more control.”
Tori sighed, trying to mimic Kara’s stance. The truth was, she couldn’t care less about hitting the target today. Her thoughts were with Brynn, holed up in the auditorium trying to write a full musical in about six hours. Or at least half of her thoughts were there. The other half kept wandering off into the future, where Camp Lakeview was closing and Tori was headed home . . . to her boyfriend . . . and a new school year . . . and maybe surf camp beyond that . . .
Tori pulled back and then released the arrow. It went more to the right, all right—missing the target by ten feet and landing limply in the grass.
“Wow,” breathed Kara.
“Maybe I’m just not cut out for this,” Tori suggested.
Kara shrugged. “Maybe not,” she agreed. “But remember, this might be your last chance to master archery! When Camp Lakeview closes, where are you going to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow?”
I won’t, Tori thought. And is that a bad thing? She shrugged. “I’ll keep trying, Kara.”
Kara nodded. “Don’t give up.”
As Kara wandered off and Tori aimed another arrow, she noticed another archer miss the target entirely—off to the left this time. She raised her head and realized that it was Nat. Of course. They were both hopelessly inept at anything that required aim. Just a few days ago, they would have been standing side by side, giggling together at their combined lack of talent. But that was before their fight. Tori narrowed her eyes, watching Nat aim another arrow. She couldn’t deny it: She was still mad at Nat. For one thing, she’d totally tried to make Tori look bad in front of their friends, bringing up the private letter from Cassie and trying to make Tori look like some kind of huge traitor when it was Nat who didn’t seem to care at all about saving Camp Lakeview. Nat had barely made a peep at the protest rehearsal last night, and her ideas this morning, even the fashion show one, had obviously been cobbled together minutes before breakfast.
Nat’s second arrow still missed the target by a good six feet. Nat shook her head and laughed at herself. In doing so, she noticed Tori watching her and stopped, staring for a second. Tori quickly glanced away, but it was too late: Nat was on her way over.
“Crap,” Tori whispered under her breath, trying to look absorbed in reloading her bow and arrow. But within seconds, Nat was standing behind her.
“Hey,” she said in a friendly voice.
“Hey,” Tori replied without turning around, trying to make her voice cool.
“So, um, that was weird the other day.” Nat stayed her ground, crossing her arms and planting her feet in a way that seemed to say, I’m Not moving until you talk to me.
Tori sighed: She was trapped. “Yeah,” she replied in a breezy tone. “How about that?”
“It just kinda stinks,” Nat went on, her tone still friendly, “because we’ve always been really close at camp, right? I mean, we’re practically best friends.”
Tori shrugged. She so wasn’t ready to make up yet. “If you say so.”
That did it. An edge crept into Nat’s voice. “If I say so?” she asked. “Tori, what’s wrong with you? Why are you treating me like something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe?”
Tori sighed and turned around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, even though she knew exactly what Nat was talking about.
“You’re mad at me,” Nat went on, looking at Tori carefully. “I get that much. You’ve been strange ever since you told me about that surfing camp. I just don’t understand why.”
Tori looked up, meeting her friend’s eye. She shrugged again.
“Is it because camp is closing?” Nat asked. “Is it because I’m spending too much time with Logan? Spit it out, Tori, so we can make up and enjoy these last two weeks together.”
Tori’s eyes flashed. “Wrong and wrong,” she said, turning away to watch the other kids shoot at the target. “I’m not upset about that stupid surf camp because right now the only thing on my mind is saving Camp Lakeview.” She paused, turning back to Nat. “You remember that, right? This big protest you can’t be bothered with?”
Nat glared at her. “I care about it just as much as you do!”
“Really?” Tori let out a cold chuckle. “Because you just said, ‘Let’s enjoy these last two weeks,’ like that’s a definite thing. And you barely said a word at rehearsal last night or breakfast just now. It really seems to me like you don’t think Camp Lakeview is worth saving.”
Nat’s face fell. “Of course I do!”
Tori shrugged. “Well, then, maybe you should stop moping around like someone ran over your Jimmy Choos and focus on saving camp. That’s what’s wrong, Nat—I’m tired of seeing your miserable face sucking all the enthusiasm out of our protest!”
Nat’s mouth dropped open. It was like Tori had said the worst thing she could have possibly said. “You don’t think I care about Camp Lakeview?”
“If you do, you have a funny way of showing it.”
Nat glared at Tori. “I care more than you could possibly understand! I care so much, I can’t even think about this protest because to think about it means acknowledging that it might not work! Do you get that?”
Tori shook her head, slowly and deliberately and said, “No.”
Nat sighed. “Of course, why would you? It’s not the same for you—you haven’t been coming to camp for all three years. It’s just something new and fun to you. That’s why you were so ready to ditch it for Camp Ukulele or whatever.”
Tori felt her jaw drop. She couldn’t believe Nat was going there. So Tori didn’t love Camp Lakevie
w as much as Nat did—just because she’d missed that first summer? Of all the insane—
“All I’m saying is, you’d better snap out of your funk,” Tori hissed at her friend, leaning closer. “Because this is it, okay? This is your last chance to save the camp you love so much. So pull it together!”
With that, she spun on her heel and stomped away.
“Okay, guys.” Brynn stood before all of 6B on the stage of the auditorium, holding a sheaf of ragged-edged notebook paper and looking like she hadn’t slept in three days (which was pretty amazing, Tori figured, because she knew Brynn hadn’t looked like that this morning). “I have a . . . a working draft. I have an outline of how I would like the musical to go.”
Sloan, who was standing next to Brynn onstage, turned and gave her shoulder a little supportive squeeze. “Of course we don’t expect it to be finished, Brynn,” she said warmly. “As long as we have a good starting point . . . as long as it’s entertaining . . .”
Brynn gulped and glanced down at her scribble-filled pages. “Oh, it’ll be entertaining,” she replied.
“Great.” Sloan turned to her bunkmates and smiled. “Let’s get started, guys. This is going to be really great! Creativity in action!”
“Right,” Brynn muttered.
Tori and all of her assembled bunkmates stood up and made their way to the stage. Tori noticed that Nat was standing way on the other side of the group and seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her. Nat was barely saying anything to anyone, though occasionally she would respond to a direct question from Alyssa or Val. For a second, Tori felt a twinge of guilt for getting so angry at Nat that morning. The truth was, she’d missed Nat these past few days—all their gossip sessions, secret chats, and private jokes. But something kept Tori from going over to her friend now. It was like a wall had gone up between them. She knew she was being hard on Nat, but she couldn’t shake herself out of it. It was like everything had gone wrong this past week—the news of camp closing, the drama of the protest, and losing Nat as a friend. Tori wished she could just hit one big rewind button and make it all not true.
Suddenly Last Summer #20 Page 7
