RSVP #6
Page 12
When Natalie thought about how totally unenthusiastic she had been about camp last summer, she had to laugh. After all, she’d made some amazing friends at Lakeview, and learned a lot about herself in the process. Okay, sure, people were slightly weirded out when they found out the truth about her father, but her friends—her real friends—were mostly just disappointed that she hadn’t felt that she could confide in them. And besides, that was all over, now, anyway, Her secret was out in the open. Way out in open. Natalie wondered if her friend Alex, a Lakeview legacy and soccer champ, brought her Tad Maxwell poster back to camp this summer. Or maybe she even got a new one, Nat thought. Alex could be a little bit of a know-it-all, but she was a dedicated camper and a supremely loyal friend. Natalie was psyched to be bunking with her again this summer.
“I can’t wait to see Jenna,” Alyssa said, rousing Natalie from her internal monologue. “She told me she bought a book of practical jokes that she’s dying to try out.”
“Jenna should know better than that,” Natalie quipped. Their fellow 3C-er was a noted prankster whose jokes had not gone without consequence the summer before. Of course, her good humor was so infectious that it was difficult to stay upset with her for too long.
“Anyway, she told me that she would meet us at the great field, where the buses let out,” Alyssa continued. She pointed out the streaky tinted window. “Can you see her?” she asked, cupping her head against the glass and squinting outward. Their bus was, at present, rumbling to a halt along the field. Somehow, while Natalie had been lost her in her daydream, they had arrived at camp!
“Yeah, she’s . . .” Natalie’s voice trailed off as she broke out laughing. “She’s the one tap-dancing down the path. Minus the tap shoes.” She giggled again as their friend made her way into the melee of the great field, kicking up great clouds of dust as she moved forward.
Their bus screeched to a halt, coughing exhaust fumes and sputtering as the engine died. The campers cried out, jumping out of their seats and moving eagerly toward the door. “One at a time,” their bus counselor, Pete, begged in vain. Pete was a member of the kitchen staff who was so good-natured that it was hard to hold his terrible cooking against him.
“I call top bunk,” Natalie shouted, playfully shoving past Alyssa and bounding down the steps of the bus.
“Hey, no fair calling the bunk before it’s in sight,” Alyssa protested, hot on Natalie’s heels.
“Jenna!” Natalie shrieked, flinging her arms around her friend as though they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Which, come to think of it, we haven’t, Natalie realized. The last time their entire bunk had been together had been in at the camp reunion—back in February! “Did you see our bunk yet? Is it nicer than last year’s bunk? Is there mold in the showers? Are the screen windows torn?” The perma-smile faded from Jenna’s face, prompting Natalie’s suspicion. “Oh, no. Is there mold in the showers?”
Jenna shook her head slowly. She wasn’t tap-dancing anymore. Natalie had a feeling that whatever Jenna had to tell her, it was pretty serious. “Uh-oh,” Natalie teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Are there spiders in the showers?”
Jenna smiled, but it was a weak smile, at best. This has got to be bad news, Natalie thought, a cold fist of dread settling into her stomach like a lead weight.
Alyssa, always no-nonsense, adjusted her tote bag over her shoulder and stepped forward, hands on her hips like she meant business. “Come on, Jenna? Worse than spiders? Spill.”
“It’s 4C,” Jenna said, looking much more somber than Natalie could ever recall seeing her.
“What, did we get, like, an awful counselor or something?” Natalie asked, growing increasingly worried.
“Well, no. At least, most of us didn’t,” Jenna said, nervously. “It’s just . . .”
Natalie raised her eyebrow quizzically.
“Our bunk!” Jenna finally blurted. “We’re not all together this summer.”
“You mean . . .” Alyssa cut in anxiously.
“Exactly,” Jenna said, shaking her head. “We’ve been split up!”