RSVP #6

by Melissa J Morgan

  She also wore a silver medical I.D. bracelet. That would alert people to her condition if she couldn’t speak for herself. She had been very lucky that Julie, her Lakeview counselor, had known what to do after Alex collapsed at camp. But without reading the warnings on her bracelet, an unknowing stranger might not interpret Alex’s dizziness and confusion as symptoms of her blood-sugar imbalance. With the wrong emergency care, Alex could wind up going into a diabetic coma . . . or worse.

  “We need to leave for school soon,” her mother told her as she quickly packed the vegetables into a bright blue snack container.

  “Okay, Mom.” Alex took the snack container from the counter. She hoisted up her heavy school backpack from the floor so she could load it in. She unzipped the main compartment and pulled out her Firefly cell phone.

  A text message winked in the window of the faceplate, which was decorated with sparkly soccer balls:

  CU soon! B.

  She grinned. “B” was Brynn, her bestest bud from camp. Brynn was coming to spend the night on Friday. Alex’s game was bright and early on Saturday morning. As soon as it was over, the two girls would get ready for the reunion together and take the bus into New York City.

  When she’d first received the official Camp Lakeview invitation to the reunion, Alex had been nothing but excited. Then things got complicated—Natalie Goode invited her to spend the night at her apartment on Friday. Coolness, except that was the night before her next soccer game. And since she had essentially lost the last one for her team, she knew she had to show.

  Not realizing Alex’s dilemma, Natalie had described in excruciating you-cannot-miss-this detail all the fun activities she had planned for her guests. A movie at a local theater, and a spa day where everyone could have manicures, pedicures, and facials. Alex had wanted like anything to go.

  But she had a commitment to her team. And with their standings hanging in the balance of this Saturday’s game—after she herself had handed the victory to the Maroon Menace—she knew she couldn’t skip the Saturday morning game.

  She had been very disappointed. But as her mother had pointed out, she would still be able to stay over at Natalie’s all-bunk sleepover on Saturday, after the party at Village Bowl.

  “You can still be a good team member and have fun with your bunk,” her mother had said.

  So she made her decision: skip Friday night at Natalie’s and play the game on Saturday. The rest of the Blue Angels were very envious that she was going to Village Bowl—but even more impressed that she knew Tad Maxwell’s daughter, and would be spending the night at her fancy penthouse apartment.

  Then the trouble started. Like the other girls of Bunk 3C, Alex had been posting her ideas about how to decorate their party table on the bunk blog that Julie, their counselor, had created. Everyone had loved Alex’s idea of using a blue-and-red Color War theme.

  Excited, Alex had hurried out to buy some tablecloths and napkins, using some of her birth day money from her grandmother. And she worked out what she thought was a pretty cool outfit, mixing one of her standard navy polo shirts with khaki pants and red accessories—a red scrunchie and a necklace of red crystal beads.

  But the very next day, Natalie posted that she had learned that Bunk 3A was going with the Color War theme as well. Natalie had insisted that since 3A were 3C’s traditional rivals, they couldn’t possibly use the same theme. When Alex had posted, “Y not?” Natalie had simply replied, “Puh-leeze!”

  Natalie went on to suggest they “be more subtle” by mixing blue and red together, to come up with a purple color scheme. The entire bunk got on board with that and Julie announced that it was official. Before the end of that same day, Natalie had posted an entire list of purple stuff they could buy and websites to order it all online. Julie thanked her for being such a huge help. So did everyone else.

  Except Alex. Alex was really mad. Natalie had taken over the whole thing!

  Frustrated, Alex put all the napkins and tablecloths she had purchased back in their sack so she could return them . . . only to trip in the parking lot of the party store and dump everything into a pothole filled with melting, dirty ice. Two packages of napkins were ruined . . . and the party store clerk refused to refund her money for them.

  Meanwhile, Natalie kept coming up with more and more plans . . . down to the point of assigning each girl what kind of treats to bring. Finally Julie logged in and said that it would probably be easier just to let everyone contribute a surprise.

  To make matters worse, Alex’s mother started fretting about Alex going so far away. Alex couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all, she was in competitive soccer and her teams traveled all over the place. True, her mom usually accompanied the team as a chaperone, but still.

  She complained to Brynn about it, and it turned out that Brynn’s mother was also a little anxious about Brynn traveling to New York City by herself. So somehow, it got decided that Brynn would stay over at Alex’s on Friday, and the two would go to New York together.

  “A perfect solution!” Brynn had declared.

  For me, anyway, Alex thought. But does Brynn really want to stay here? I’d give anything to go to Natalie’s on Friday. Or at least I would have, before she started running everything. But Brynn doesn’t have any issues with Natalie.

  “We’re going to have so much fun!” Brynn had added. “I can’t wait to see all your trophies and eat your mom’s Korean barbecue!”

  Alex was only semi-convinced. How much fun could they really have when the start time for her Saturday morning game was eight o’clock? Especially given that because of her diabetes, she would have to go to bed super-extra-early?

  Just like in soccer, I’ll do what it takes to make sure Brynn enjoys herself while she’s here. Only I sure hope I don’t fumble the ball.

  Then we’ll go to the reunion at Village Bowl and I will totally not let Natalie’s bossiness ruin my good time!

  Propped up in bed with his favorite pillows, Chelsea’s dad examined her invitation to the Camp Lakeview reunion and said, “Are you getting excited about seeing your old friends, Chelse?”

  Chelsea hesitated. She felt terrible thinking about having a good time when her dad looked so pale and tired. His hair, light blond like Chelsea’s, was starting to thin. Soon it would fall out. She knew the routine; they’d all gone through this before.

  Her mom, walking into the bedroom with a folded stack of laundry, looked almost as worn out as Chelsea’s dad. He father had just started a new round of chemotherapy for his cancer, and she knew they both were exhausted with worry.

  I’m really worried, too.

  Both her parents smiled at her, waiting for her answer.

  “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly, as she perched on the side of the bed. Her dad took his hand in hers. His fingers were very bony. “I’m starting to think about not going. Those girls are going boy crazy. That’s all they e-mail about anymore. And they’re so silly. All they do is read links to fashion magazines and news about movie stars.” She flushed. “I mean, movie stars besides Natalie’s dad. It’s okay to read about him, I guess. Since he is her dad.”

  Her mom opened up a drawer in the double bureau and laid in some white T-shirts. “Sometimes silly is good,” she said, as she shut the drawer and leaned against it. “I remember having all kinds of fun at sleepovers when I was your age.”

  Chelsea almost said, “Poor Mom, you’re sure not having much fun now,” but she kept her mouth pursed in a straight line.

  Since her father’s illness, so much had changed. Chelsea didn’t go to boarding school anymore. She lived at home with her parents and her sister. Her sister spent most of her time hanging out with her own friends—she had already left for school with a big crowd—and Chelsea couldn’t understand how she could have fun when their dad as so sick.

  Her father studied her. “Are you having second thoughts? You don’t have to go, but I have to admit I’m puzzled by your lack of enthusiasm. You came home from
camp with all kinds of great stories about your summer.”

  “Yeah, I had a really great time,” Chelsea blurted. Then she took a breath and quickly added, “But I’ve changed since then. After all, it’s been six months since the end of camp. A lot can happen in six months.”

  Her parents exchanged a look. Chelsea was used to those looks, and she knew what this one meant. They thought she was talking about her father’s cancer. After two years of good test results, his disease had come back in September, and it had gotten worse since then.

  Chelsea’s mom said, “Well, we can talk about it on the way to school. We have to go now, or you’ll be late. Give Daddy a kiss.”

  She carefully kissed his hollow cheek.

  She stood, picked up her invitation, and placed it on the nightstand, next to her father’s amber-colored bottles of pills and a big box of tissues.

  They put on their heavy winter outerwear at the front door. Chelsea slipped on a pair of mittens she had gotten for Christmas. Then she picked up her backpack.

  Her mother put on her gloves. Then they went out the front door, her mom first, into a flurry of snowflakes. As they hurried to their SUV, her mom stopped in the middle of the driveway. She tipped back her head and stuck out her tongue. Chelsea burst out with a giggle and said, “Mom!”

  “Mmm! Cherry-flavored snow! We’re getting our own private snow cones! Try it, Chelsea!” her mother urged her. “Oh, my gosh, it’s root beer now!”

  “Oh, Mom,” Chelsea said laughing. “You’re so crazy!”

  “My mistake! They’re Skittles!” her mom cried. “Chelsea, we’re in a Skittles commercial!”

  With a big guffaw, Chelsea stopped walking, too. The hood of her jacket fell back as she lifted her chin, imitating her mother. The two of them stood in the falling snow, shouting out flavors:

  “Lime!”

  “Grape!”

  “Sour apple!”

  “Bubble gum!”

  By the time they got in the car to drive to school, their faces were half-frozen. Chelsea experimentally touched her cheeks and sighed with contentment as the heater began to defrost her chin and nose.

  The houses and trees were covered with snow, creating a beautiful winter wonderland. Chelsea’s mom said, “It would be fun to see New York like this, Chelsea. Maybe you girls will go skating at Rockefeller Center. Are ice skates on Natalie’s list of things to bring?”

  “I don’t remember,” Chelsea replied. “She had a lot of lists.” The envelope containing the invitation from Natalie was about twice as thick as the one from Camp Lakeview, even counting the map to Village Bowl and the RSVP card and envelope that had been enclosed.

  Her mother smiled. “Natalie’s working hard to make sure you have a good time. I’m sure she’s cooked up all sorts of exciting things for you to do.”

  Chelsea shifted uncomfortably. She knew her mom was trying to make it easy to talk about the weekend, but Chelsea still felt funny discussing it.

  “Mom, I know you want me to go,” she said. “But those girls are different from me. They’re really immature. I probably wouldn’t have a very good time.”

  Her mom braked at the red light on Emerson Street. Chelsea’s school was only two blocks away. She was glad. She wanted to get out of the car so they wouldn’t have to talk about this anymore.

  “I thought you wanted to go back to Camp Lakeview this summer,” her mom reminded her. “Some of those girls will probably be your bunkmates again. It seems like it would be fun to catch up and see what’s been happening with them before next June.”

  “Maybe I won’t go this summer after all,” Chelsea said, before she had really thought through what she was about to say. She caught her breath. Not go to camp? Then she shrugged. “Maybe I’ll stay home. I could even get a job!”

  Her mom tousled her hair. “A twelve-year-old with a job?”

  “Sure. So I could, you know, make money,” Chelsea said excitedly, imagining herself behind a cash register at Limited Too at the mall. Or maybe she could work for Mr. Markham, who owned a dog grooming business. She’d love to bathe frisky little puppies and give poodles fancy haircuts!

  “What do you need money for, Chelse?” her mom asked, her expression growing more serious.

  “Oh, you know, to help out.” She shrugged her shoulders, wondering if she had suggested something that was wrong. Her mom had such an odd look on her face. Was she angry? “So you guys don’t have to worry so much.”

  “We aren’t worried,” her mom assured her. She reached out and brushed a tendril of hair away from Chelsea’s forehead. “Well, we’re a little concerned. But that’s something for us to worry about, sweetie. Not you. Everything is going to work out. Just have a little faith.”

  Suddenly Chelsea felt like crying. She didn’t really know why. Her moods went up, then plummeted like the waterslides at Wet World. It seemed she never knew how she was going to feel from one moment to the next.

  “Okay, Mom, I’ll have faith,” she promised. She nodded and smiled at her, and then she looked out the window. At this time on weekday mornings, the streets were always clogged with SUVs and minivans brimming with kids. It was pretty much a madhouse, and Chelsea almost envied the students who lived far enough away to take the bus. The last bus she had ridden had been the one home from camp, and it was fun to participate in the laughter and singing. She’d even listened to one girl’s iPod for over an hour.

  Their SUV pulled up to the curb. As she gathered up her backpack, Chelsea spotted her new friend Belle in the distance. Underneath her signature pink-on-pink backpack, she had on a thick, fleecy parka of dark orange and white. Chelsea thought it looked totally hot. That exact shade of jack-o’-lantern orange was currently Chelsea’s favorite color.

  Belle’s curly dark brown hair tumbled around her shoulders from beneath a black-and-silver knitted cap. A silver yarn pom-pom dangled from a woven braid extending from the cap’s crown, bobbing as Belle moved with the crowd toward the school’s front doors.

  Chelsea wanted to catch up to her, so she pushed on the door handle and popped the door open as she prepared to carefully climb down onto the slippery ice.

  “Gotta hustle,” she said to her mom. “I want to walk with Belle.”

  “It’s so nice that you two are friends. You know,” her mother said thoughtfully as Chelsea slung her right leg onto the step of the SUV, “your father and I haven’t had a weekend alone since you went to Belle’s sleepover. That was over a month ago. Your sister’s going to spend the weekend at Jessie Greenfield’s house. You would kind of be doing us a favor by going to New York.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Chelsea said, covering her mouth in astonishment. “You guys are so weird.”

  Her mother chuckled. “We may be weird, but it would be fun to watch a movie with a PG-13 rating and have some Greek takeout.” Chelsea didn’t care for Greek food. Most of it tasted sour to her.

  Then her mom’s tone changed. “Chelse, we’re both proud of you for trying so hard to help the family. But really, sweetie, you don’t need to try so hard.”

  She’s just saying that, Chelsea decided, as she eased down onto the icy sidewalk, planting one foot firmly beneath herself. They really do need my help.

  “Okay, Mom,” she said.

  “It’s just one night,” her mom added.

  “Right.”

  Chelsea shut the door and stood back as the SUV rolled away and joined the long, winding parade of parents dropping off their kids.

  She minced with tiny steps on the slippery ice, melting into the jostling crowd of heavily clothed middle school students rushing to class.

  “Belle!” she called, hurrying after her friend, but taking care not to slip.

  “Hey,” Belle said, turning to wait for her. Collin walked on ahead without even looking back at Belle. That was a potentially good sign that they weren’t hanging out, hanging out. It was hard enough for Belle to fit Chelsea into her busy schedule—she had indoor soccer, chorus, Girl Scouts, and karat
e.

  “What’s up?” Belle asked her. “You look kind of freaked out.”

  “I do not,” Chelsea snapped.

  “Sorry,” Belle said. “I thought maybe you had been crying.”

  “No way! I have the most awesome weekend planned. I’m going to a sleepover in Manhattan with Tad Maxwell’s daughter.”

  Belle’s eyes grew huge. “Oh, my gosh! You mean your camp friend, Natalie? Wow, Chelsea, that is awesome!” She shook her head in amazement. “You are totally the luckiest girl I know!”

  “I know,” Chelsea said, grinning at her.

  But the thing was, she didn’t feel very lucky.

  And she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to go.

  chapter THREE

  “There they are!” Natalie screamed, jumping up and down beside her mother.

  They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the main terminal of the busy, noisy bus depot as Grace and Alyssa’s bus from New Jersey lumbered slowly into view along the snow-covered blacktop. Snow flurried in the black sky; the sun had gone down about half an hour before.

  As Natalie pushed open the glass double doors, the air brakes made a sighing sound that overpowered her mother’s response.

  “Grace! Alyssa!” Natalie cried, waving both arms as she trotted toward the bus.

  “Stay back, miss,” a burly uniformed security guard ordered her, blocking Natalie’s way. “Please wait for your party behind the yellow line.”

  Natalie obeyed, eagerly scanning the heavily bundled passengers as they descended the bus steps and walked toward the terminal. Too old, too tall, too not-them, too—

  Alyssa appeared first, beaming at Natalie as she stepped through the bus’s door. She gave her a happy wave.

  Trust Lyss to dress in style, Natalie thought fondly. Her friend had on a black wool duster with big shoulders and a black beret. And was she wearing a ton of makeup! Her hair—back to black after the Ronald McDonald dye job last summer—was braided into a thick rope that trailed over her left shoulder. Ornate, dramatic chandelier earrings and a purple-and-black fringe scarf completed her outfit. Natalie bet she had on a cool black T-shirt splattered with paint underneath her coat.