“The thorns are a nice touch,” Jack added.
“Lucy!” Grace scolded me. “The guys were never supposed to see them!”
I felt bad, but the only thing to say was, “Oops.”
“I’m pretty sure oatmeal cookies induce amnesia,” Jack said. “I read it in one of my textbooks.”
Vivek said, “The minimum dosage is two cookies, and three is preferable.” He had not taken his eyes off the cookies since they’d come out of the oven.
“Are they cool enough to eat yet, Emma?” Olivia asked.
“I am willing to risk it,” Vivek said. “If I burn my mouth, it will be for science.”
“Are you having a growth spurt?” Emma asked. “I’m afraid you’ll spoil your dinner.”
“I’ll get the milk,” said Grace.
A short while later, we were all eating cookies.
“Dee-licious!” Jack said. “Good work, ladies.”
“Ahem,” said Vivek.
“And gentleman,” said Jack.
“They’re certainly much better than the plastic-wrapped s’mores we get at the campfire,” Vivek said.
Emma made a face. “I don’t like those either.”
“They’ve got chocolate and marshmallow,” said Grace. “What is not to like?”
“You know what would be cool?” Vivek said. “If we could have cookies on Pack Trip.”
“We might be able to save some,” said Emma.
“They’re going fast already,” said Olivia. “Besides, they’d be stale by then.”
“Can you make cookies over a campfire?” Vivek asked.
“I never heard of that,” said Jack.
“We could probably find a recipe if we could go online,” said Olivia. “But of course”—she sighed a heartbroken sigh—“thanks to Buck, we can’t.”
• • •
Vivek was wrapping up cookies for his mom when Jack remembered he had to be somewhere.
“Where?” Emma asked.
“Somewhere . . . ,” Jack said, and then he threw out his chest and began to sing, “. . . over the rainbow, way up high. . . .”
Olivia clapped her hands over her ears. “Okay, okay, you can go!”
“I’ve got to go too,” Vivek said. “We’re having a cabin meeting at five.”
“Hannah’s probably back by now,” Emma said, “but she won’t be looking for us yet. Give us your key, and we’ll lock up. Mrs. Arthur might not trust us, but you do, right?”
When Vivek hesitated a moment, Grace repeated, “Right?”
“Right!” said Vivek. “Absolutely.”
“You don’t mind if I take just a few cookies for the road, do you?” Jack asked. “After all, without a responsible party such as myself, there wouldn’t be any.”
“Not too many,” Emma said.
With a flourish, Jack swept a handful off the cooling rack and onto a plate. Then he clicked his heels three times, saluted, and headed for the door. Vivek was right behind him.
When they were gone, I looked at Grace. “What?” she said. “Do I have oatmeal stuck in my teeth?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Then why are you looking at me that way?” Grace asked.
“Because I’ve been thinking. If you don’t want to break into Silver Spur Cabin, I could do it. I don’t mind.”
“Seriously?” Grace’s eyes lit up.
“Seriously,” I said.
“Thank you.” She sounded relieved. “We’ll have to look at the map of Boys Camp and practice the stuff I’ve been working on to make sure the delivery will go okay.”
“Do we have time?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah,” Grace said, “if we don’t waste any.”
“We should have thought of it before,” said Olivia. “You’re athletic like Grace. Plus you’re a recognized hero, known far and wide for quick thinking.”
“That’s embarrassing,” I said.
“Three cheers for Lucy!” said Olivia—which was also embarrassing, especially when they really did cheer three times: “Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Grace
Olivia and Emma cheered for Lucy three times!
I cheered one and a half: “Hip Hip Hooray” and then “Hip Hip” and then nothing.
The truth is, by then I was already beginning to change my mind. If Lucy could sneak into Boys Camp and break into Silver Spur Cabin with a plate of oatmeal cookies, then so could I. Lucy had been a hero one time, but it was me who was the most coordinated, the most agile, and the strongest.
Maybe it was Snot-Nosed Grace to say so, but I liked being all those things. And I liked that people knew it, too.
On the way to breakfast the next morning, Monday, I told the membership.
“Are you sure, Grace?” Olivia asked.
“Either way,” Lucy said.
“Emma?” I said.
“Pancakes,” said Emma.
“What?” I said.
“Oh, sorry,” said Emma. “What did you say?”
I repeated myself. Emma frowned, then shrugged. “Go for it, Grace! And it has to be tonight, right? You know that.”
Now that the cookies were made, they had to be delivered fast. No one ever fell in love over stale cookies. On that the membership agreed 100 percent.
• • •
If you’re looking forward to something, like acing a test, or if you’re dreading something, like going to the dentist, either way, time stretches on forever.
That’s how Monday was.
“Think of it like a roller coaster,” Emma told me on the way back from lunch, “scary on the downhills but fun at the end when you realize you’re still alive.”
“Emma”—I looked at her sideways—“I know sneaking into Boys Camp won’t kill me. The worst possible would be getting sent home by the sentries.”
“A fate worse than death!” Olivia cried.
“And don’t forget Paula will give all your stuff to charity,” Emma said.
“Not helpful,” I said.
“I can still go,” said Lucy.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “My mind is made up.”
• • •
Lights-out for ten-to-elevens on weeknights is nine thirty. Since Hannah had evening riding, she didn’t usually get back to Flowerpot till then or even a few minutes after. This gave Olivia time after activities to retrieve the cookies from her trunk, unwrap them, and put them on plates borrowed from the mess hall. Then she wrapped each plate in clear plastic, and Lucy put a handpainted card on top.
It had been my job to write the notes on the two cards because I have the best handwriting. We had worked hard over what to say and even (of course) argued about it. In the end we voted that simple was best, and both cards could say the same thing:
Something sweet for someone sweet.
Very truly yours,
A secret admirer
“Done,” Lucy announced, once the cards were securely attached.
“Now it’s all up to you, Grace,” said Emma.
“And if you fail, the whole PFHL enterprise was an enormous waste of our time and our effort,” Olivia added.
“No pressure,” Lucy said.
We got ready for bed after that. To make me more nearly invisible, I had borrowed a pair of Olivia’s pajamas. They were dark blue and made of silk. They were way too big for me, so I had rolled up the legs and the sleeves. With fifteen minutes left before lights-out, we had one more task to complete.
It was the one we had argued about more than any of the others.
I thought it was a crock of hooey.
Olivia thought it was brilliant.
Emma thought it couldn’t hurt.
As for Lucy, the idea had come from her when we were planning. She said her mom had gone through an earth-worship phase, and she had learned some spells. As soon as Olivia heard that, she’d insisted we had to include it in PFHL. Lucy wasn’t so crazy about the idea, but
she went along and told us what to do.
“Did you get your supplies?” she asked now.
We all had.
Mine was a pile of salt, collected a shake at a time from the dining hall and wrapped up in a napkin, which I now placed in the middle of the floor.
Olivia’s was what looked like a small pile of brown slime.
“Ewww—what is that?” I asked her.
“Flower petals,” she said, “only I guess they got kind of stale.”
“They’ll still work,” Lucy said.
“How do you know? They’re disgusting,” I said.
“It’s the essence of the thing that matters, not its outward form,” Lucy explained.
I looked Lucy in the eye. “Seriously?”
“Grace!” Olivia shook her head at me. “The time for argument is past.”
Emma had a flashlight to stand in for a candle—which we never would have been allowed to have. She now placed it on the floor and switched it on. As we watched, Lucy made three piles of slime petals and put them in a line, sprinkled the salt in a heart shape around them, and turned on the flashlight. Then she said, “Which way is north?”
“Why north?” I wanted to know.
“Because of the North Star, Polaris,” Lucy said, as if that explained anything.
Emma pointed, and Lucy put the flashlight on that side of the heart. Then she put a plate of cookies on either side of it.
It was getting kind of crowded on the floor.
“Okay,” Lucy said, “somebody turn off the lights.”
I said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Olivia said, “I know! It’s so exciting!”
“That is not what I—,” I started to say.
But just then the lights went out, and in the dark Lucy spoke in a singsong voice: “Oh-h-h, great spirit of oneness that binds us together in all things. One with the minerals of the earth . . . one with the flowers of the earth . . . one with the light within and without us and with the darkness all around! Hear me and lend to these sweet confections the sweet power of passionate attraction, so that they might bind together those who receive them.”
“Wow,” I said, while at the same time Olivia said, “Amen!” and Emma, “Sing it, sister!”
I was hoping the next part of the ceremony would be interactive. Maybe we’ d all get to mutter mumbo-jumbo sounds. In the dark with the flashlight, that might be kind of cool.
But we never got that far. Before Lucy could instruct us, there was a noise outside: Hannah was back early!
As usual, Lucy moved fastest, switching off the flashlight and shoving the cookies under our bunk bed with her foot. By the time Hannah pushed the door open, the membership had dispersed to our beds and pulled up the sheets. The salt and the flower slime were still on the floor, but Hannah wouldn’t notice them in the dark.
Hannah fussed around, quietly getting ready for bed. When after a few minutes she went into the bathroom, Emma whispered, “Good luck, Grace. You can do it!”
Then Lucy and Olivia chimed in: “Good luck, Grace!”
“Thanks,” I whispered, and the sound was so soft I hardly heard myself.
By this time, we had thought out, planned out, and practiced everything about PFHL.
At least I hoped we had.
This was the moment of truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Grace
Emma was our authority on all things sleep related because she had done a sleep unit during fifth-grade health. According to her, the boys of Silver Spur Cabin would be most deeply asleep around two thirty in the morning.
Without a phone, I couldn’t set my alarm to vibrate to wake me up. So we had asked around until finally Emma found a kid, Eli, in Ponderosa Cabin, who had a watch with an alarm that vibrated.
In exchange for a couple of cookies, he lent it to us.
Since there is usually something to worry about, I am not a good sleeper. That night I was not only worried about eluding the sentries; I was also worried I wouldn’t wake up.
I fretted and tugged the sheets and checked the time and couldn’t get comfortable . . . until what seemed like five minutes before the vibration on my wrist woke me like a buzzing bee.
“Wha . . . ?” I sat up straight, then clapped my hand over my mouth. Oh, no—had I woken Hannah?
I waited and listened, but the only sound was four girls breathing.
Quiet as a mouse, I rolled out of bed and slipped on my shoes. Quiet as a mouse, I reached under the bunk and pulled out one plate of cookies. Quiet as a mouse—one that knows how to twist a doorknob—I opened the door, slipped outside, and pulled the door closed.
Now I was on the flagstone path, breathing the cool night air. Adrenaline had woken most of my brain, and the air woke the rest. Fully awake, I was fast. I was coordinated. I was agile.
Also, I was scared to death.
Where were the sentries? How many were there? Were they really invisible and silent? What was it like if one caught you? Did he tackle you? Were there handcuffs?
Part of me said that I should have thought of all this before, and part of me said, what good would that have done?
Okay, Grace, I said to myself. Time to do this for real. If the sentries are invisible and silent, I will be more invisible and silent.
We had calculated cookie delivery to the minute. If it went as planned, I would be back in bed in Flowerpot Cabin in less than twenty minutes, mission accomplished.
With fear to spur me on, I ran lightly on my toes.
Watch out, Boys Camp. Here I come!
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Emma
Grace’s “Wha . . . ?” wasn’t very loud, and after that she was quiet as a shadow getting out the door.
Still, she woke me up.
From the moment weeks before, when she got volunteered to make the PFHL delivery, I knew I had to help her out. Grace is a wonderful person, but she said it herself—she is a coward. I couldn’t bear the thought of her all alone out there. Boys Camp was crawling with sentries. What if she got caught?
Meanwhile, everyone else in Flowerpot Cabin was breathing slowly and deeply, obviously sound asleep.
I didn’t want Grace to know I was following her. I didn’t want to interfere with her mission. I just wanted to be there in case. So I counted to twenty to give her a good head start. Then I swiveled my butt off my bunk, slipped my feet into a pair of sneakers, and tiptoed toward the door.
Crossing the room, I kicked something—the flashlight maybe? It skittered away from my toe, and I stumbled more from surprise than anything.
Olivia’s dresser was closest to the door, and I bumped that before my hand found the doorknob. I’m pretty sure I didn’t make any noise, but it was a relief to be outside at last.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lucy
I wanted like anything to stay in bed. I don’t even believe in romance! Besides, I had done my share when I painted the cards and cast the love spell.
But the membership is the closest thing I have to sisters. Different as Grace, Olivia, and Emma are from me, I love them all.
So when Emma woke me that night, clattering and bumping her way to the door, I knew I had to follow her.
I didn’t know where my shoes were, but that didn’t matter. My shower shoes were next to my bed. I slid them on, crossed the room, and slipped out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Olivia
The night of the cookie delivery, I slept badly.
There was the matter of the herd of rabbits stumbling through our cabin right after Grace’s watch buzzed.
And then I started to worry that someone somewhere might need my help.
Was it Grace?
But I couldn’t help her. I wasn’t allowed. Emma didn’t want us all galumphing around Boys Camp carrying cookies. This much I knew for sure.
With the rabbits gone, it was quiet, and I rolled over only to hear a fearsome voice cry out: “Barbecue Princesses sta
y out of Boys Camp! No Barbecue Princess allowed!”
I knew that voice: Brianna Silverbug! How did she get in our cabin? Was she going to sabotage PFHL?
My eyelids snapped open. I would vanquish Brianna myself!
But all I saw around me was the dark. No Brianna at all.
It must have been a nightmare, I thought, and then I yawned.
Is Grace doing okay? I wondered. How come it’s quieter than usual in here?
I rolled over again after that and must have fallen asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Grace
Cookie delivery happened on a Monday. The Friday before I had gone to the camp office and asked Paula for a Moonlight Ranch registration packet. I said I needed it to give to a friend who might be interested in Moonlight Ranch. Paula wanted to know what friend. I thought fast, and I told her Shoshi Rubinstein and gave her Shoshi’s address, too.
But this was a fib. The real reason I wanted the packet was for the map of Boys Camp that’s inside. I had never been to Boys Camp. No girl ever had. But by today, Monday, I had memorized the map and knew that Silver Spur Cabin was on the swimming-pool side.
I am a pretty fast runner and, based on my sprint times in PE class, I had estimated I could make it to Silver Spur Cabin in less than four minutes. If the sentries were after me, it would be faster than that.
I could never get over how many stars there were in the Arizona sky, or how brightly they shone. Until last summer, I had known about the Milky Way only from my science book and the candy bar. Now I could see it in real life, a white foggy streak against the black ink of the sky.
The moon had already set, but the skeleton shapes of the cottonwood trees stood out against the glowing stars. Along with the bats darting overhead and the hooting owls, they created a spooky atmosphere that seemed to stamp itself on my brain.
And all of it was amplified by the strangeness of what I was doing—breaking a rule! Anything seemed possible. Anything seemed likely. Once I was done delivering cookies, I might grow wings and fly over the Grand Canyon.
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