I don’t know if there were always groups and I didn’t notice them because I had Maisy, or if they formed that last year of elementary school. But it suddenly felt like everyone was part of a group while I ceased to exist. Before I knew it, I was officially invisible.
Two hours later, when we were finally at camp, I couldn’t help sympathizing with Maisy because we had a lot of good years before she joined the evil queen beehive otherwise known as the M & Ms. Although she may have swiftly put me on the wrong side of popular at school, I didn’t know if I had it in me to exact revenge by doing the same thing to her at camp.
“What’s the matter?” asked Poppy. She’s the “pretty girl” of our group with her stick-straight blond hair, blue eyes, and super long legs. On top of being pretty, Poppy is wealthy, the kind of wealthy where her house has a name—Ferwick Manor. You might think that perfect life would make her act entitled, but Poppy is obsessed with social justice. She isn’t one of those people who just posts artsy pictures of herself holding up witty posters at a women’s march once a year either. This school year she spoke in front of the school board on behalf of a transgender student who wanted to use the bathroom of his transitioning gender. Mom always says that a kid who is brave enough to do those things is going to be unstoppable when she is an adult.
I tilted my head toward “the square,” where Maisy stood alone. All the campers were huddled around the big grassy area waiting to get their bunk assignments, but no one talked to her or even looked at her. Word had gotten around about Isa telling Maisy off, so the other campers were steering clear of Maisy to avoid Isa’s wrath.
“I know I shouldn’t feel bad for Maisy, but I can’t help it,” I said.
“She had it coming to her,” said Isa. Her Staten Island accent makes her sound tough, but she’s the most loyal person I know, which is why she hates Maisy. That’s the kind of friend Isa is: You hate someone, she hates them, too.
I watched as Maisy pulled her honey-brown hair up into a high ponytail, shook it loose, then pulled it back up again. Maisy fixates on her hair when she’s upset.
“I can’t fathom why her parents would send her here,” I said. “Maisy thinks trying out a new nail salon is adventurous. And she’s the least athletic person I know.”
“Sucks for the bunk who gets stuck with her,” said Hannah, who’s definitely the coolest one among us.
Hannah’s a trendsetter. One year she wore jelly sandals to camp. By the end of the summer, everyone had a pair. She had recently discovered a love of thrift shops, so she was obsessed with vintage eighties-style rompers, which are kind of like the rompers people wear today, but they come in bold primary colors and feature either rainbows across the chest or athletic stripes running down the sides. She wore what she called statement sneakers, which were generic Keds in bold prints—the crazier the better. Her first-day-of-camp outfit was a turquoise, terry cloth strapless romper that had a rainbow on the front paired with zebra-striped sneakers. The ends of her chin-length brown hair were dip-dyed blue, and I was taking bets with Isa and Poppy on how many campers were going to beg their moms for blue Kool-Aid mix in their care packages.
“Her bunk won’t have a shot at winning the tournament with Maisy dragging them down,” I whispered.
Isa bumped fists with Hannah. “That increases our chances of winning the Cup!” We won the bunk tournament every year. If we won again our last year as junior campers, we would be awarded the Amelia Cup, which had only been earned by one other bunk in the past fifty years. It was Poppy’s Nana Mary who won the Cup, and she really turned up the pressure on Poppy before she left for camp to bring home the win.
“Better give up now. You don’t want to waste your whole summer training for nothing,” an annoyingly familiar voice said.
Isa and I whipped around to see the Dandelion Bunk twins, Ali and Alexa, lurking behind us. I wasn’t sure which one was talking because they are identical. After years of going to camp with them, we still couldn’t tell them apart. Not that we needed to. Their personalities were cloned, along with their appearance. They both had thick New Jersey accents, bobbed curly blond hair, pimply skin, and were solid muscle from the mixed martial arts training they do. Picture any female professional MMA fighter at eleven, give her a twin and an attitude, and that’s what these girls were like. We just call them the A twins to keep things simple.
Isa crossed her arms. “You guys lose. Every. Single. Year. To us. Why should this summer be any different?”
Ali and Alexa gave each other knowing looks.
“This is going to be our year. You’ll see,” said one of the twins.
“You do realize you guys aren’t eligible for the Cup, right?” I slowed my speech down so these hunkering bullies could understand me. “We’re the only bunk who’s won the tournament every summer. So, we’re the only bunk who’s eligible for the Cup.”
The A twins smiled at us, revealing matching sets of fluorescent-green rubber-banded braces. The one on the left said, “Yeah, but if we win the tournament, you guys can’t win the Cup.”
The one on the right cut in, “Keeping you from winning the Cup is basically what it’s all about for us.”
Isa laughed a little too loudly. “Good luck with that.”
The A twins tossed their hair at the same time and one of them said, “Don’t think we’ll be needing luck this summer.”
Bailey blew her whistle. Then she stood on top of a milk crate in the middle of the square, holding her clipboard, which meant one thing—bunk assignments. There was a lot of shushing and one more whistle blow from Bailey before everyone finally quieted down.
“I know you guys are all excited about another summer at Camp Amelia.” Bailey pumped both of her hands in the air and everyone cheered with her, except Maisy who was busy french braiding her enviously straight hair. Putting her hair in a ponytail meant she was a little nervous. A french braid meant she was one step away from a total breakdown.
Bailey continued, “Campers, listen up for your bunk assignments.”
There were never any surprises for Poppy, Hannah, Isa, and me because we always end up together in the Sunflower Bunk with our counselor, Ainsley, just like the awful A twins are always in the Dandelion Bunk with Bailey. But it was cool to watch the girls step forward as their names were called, especially girls I see every summer. Some were much taller, some had new haircuts, some suddenly had boobs, and some looked exactly the same as last summer.
Our counselor, Ainsley, stepped forward. She has a laissez-faire counselor style because she’s more interested in sneaking out to the boys’ camp to hang out with the guy counselors at night than she is in bossing us around.
“I’m Ainsley, the Sunflower Bunk counselor,” she said, flipping her waist-length blond hair over her back. Ainsley’s really a brunette, but she went blond a few summers back, around the same time she went boy crazy. She also has a sporadic British accent because she lived in England until she was five. She wore a faded University of Miami cross-country team T-shirt. She went there on a full cross-country and track-and-field scholarship and worked summers at Camp Amelia to earn spending money for the school year. She woke up every morning before everyone else and ran for miles through the woods to stay in shape, which was impressive considering the late hours she kept sneaking into the boys’ camp across the lake.
The four of us didn’t wait for our names to be called. We ran over to Ainsley with our game faces on to let the other campers, especially the underhanded Dandelion Bunk girls, know the Amelia Cup was ours.
Ainsley read her bunk assignment off of a small sheet of paper even though we had already flanked her like a small army. “Isa, Hannah, Poppy, Bea.”
As I stood up there with the girls, I felt what I had been waiting nine months for—that feeling that I belonged. No more worrying about who to sit with, what to wear, and what to say. I was finally in the one place where I knew where to be and what to do. I had my people.
“And Maisy,” Ainsley sa
id.
Did I just say I was happy? I take that back. Suddenly, I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wake myself up. Everything was moving in slow motion and all the voices sounded like they were underwater. But I wasn’t dreaming. My ex-best friend, the absolute last person I’d want with me at camp, was going to be my bunkmate for the next six weeks. What was the point of camp if the worst part of school came here with me?
I caught the A twins radiating “I told you so” from every pore. They were standing with their bunkmates: Kaya, who had gotten long black clip-in hair extensions and discovered lip-plumping gloss, and Tinka, who sported her blond hair half up and half down so you could see her hidden rainbow streaks, her new cartilage piercing high up on her left ear, and the multiple silver hoops that lined both her ears. With her gazelle-like legs and track star gait, Tinka was a force to be reckoned with when she was running, which was why she was our fiercest competition on the foot race part of the Cup competition. All four girls wore smirks that said “checkmate.”
“This has to be a mistake.” Isa grabbed the bunk assignment right out of Ainsley’s hands.
Even Poppy was outraged, in her sweet Poppy way. “Not to be rude, Ainsley, but this is our year to win the Amelia Cup. We’re going to be the first bunk since my Nana Mary’s to win.”
Ainsley snatched the paper back from Isa and held it up for us all to see. “It says right here. Maisy Winters is in the Sunflower Bunk.”
Hannah stared at me, willing me to fix this, as if it were somehow my fault Maisy was here, as if I could magically send her back to Mapleton.
Poppy wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand. I thought the bunks were capped at four campers.”
Ainsley looked at all of us. “There was an uneven number of campers this year. Since Maisy and Bea are from the same town, it made sense for her to get added as a fifth to our bunk.”
Isa pressed on. “There’s no way we’re winning with her dragging us down. She’s new and Bea told us she sucks at everything.”
Ainsley shoved the paper in the back pocket of her jean shorts. “I don’t know why you guys care so much about the bunk tournament. It’s just one small part of camp.”
Maisy stood off to the side, her fingers whipping her hair into a fishtail braid. Sort of with us, sort of not. I knew that pose. I was the master of pulling it off when I knew no one really wanted me around.
I felt sorry for Maisy for a nanosecond. Then I thought about the first day of sixth grade. After that day at the mall, Maisy ignored all my Snapchats and texts. Her Instagram feed was filled with pictures of her at the country club pool, Mia’s house, or the mall with the M & Ms. From the day I left until the day I got back, she had spent every second with those girls. Mom said not to worry, that as soon as Maisy saw me at school, things would go back to normal. But on the first day of school, Maisy was hanging out at the flagpole taking selfies with the M & Ms. I walked close enough for Maisy to see me, but she didn’t say hi or even look in my direction. You would think the day at the mall would’ve made me realize Maisy wasn’t my friend anymore, but it took seeing her at school to truly grasp Maisy was part of the M & Ms, and I wasn’t.
“We need to fix this,” I said to Ainsley. “We’re not going to win with Maisy in our bunk. Bailey can just switch her somewhere else.” I didn’t care that Maisy could hear me. It’s not like she cared all of those times she walked past me at school without even looking at me.
Ainsley rolled her eyes. “I already talked to Bailey about it because I didn’t want to deal with you guys and the tournament drama. I had to sit through a lecture about togetherness and the Amelia way. I am not doing that again.”
Poppy’s eyes welled up. “Nana Mary’s expecting me to bring the Cup to the nursing home so she can show it off to everyone.”
Ainsley hoisted her duffle bag on her shoulders and headed toward our bunk. “Why are you counting yourselves out already? You girls are the best athletes at camp. If anyone can help Maisy rise to the occasion, you can. Maybe having someone in the bunk who isn’t so obsessed with the tournament will be good for you. It will force you to focus on all the other fun parts of camp.”
CHAPTER TWO
MAISY
THERE’S SOMETHING NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT ME. OKAY, THERE ARE a few somethings no one knows about me. But the one that’s most important right now is that I don’t know how to swim. Bea spent every summer at camp, which means even she didn’t know that I have never been in water deeper than my knees. Bea and her squad are gonna hate me even more when they figure that out. It was all I thought about on the long, hot walk to our cabin. I had lots of time to think because it wasn’t like anyone was talking to me. It was seriously the most awkward walk of my life.
As we walked through the woods, we passed other groups of girls who were on their way to their cabins. They were all squealing and talking nonstop. I could hear girls talking about new crushes, and old gossip, and making promises about all the cool things they wanted to do ASAP. Not my bunkmates. All they could talk about was the tournament. Not only was I at the wrong camp, I was in the wrong bunk with the wrong girls.
“Does everyone from the bunk have to compete? Can Maisy be exempt ’cause she’s a first-year camper?” With her funky vintage store style, you could tell Hannah was the cool girl at camp. At least ten other girls had asked her where she bought her romper, and she wasn’t even embarrassed to tell them it was from Goodwill. If she didn’t hate me already, she was going to as soon as I failed the swim test. And everyone knows it’s social suicide to have the cool girl hate you.
“I already asked Bailey and got a lecture about the,” Ainsley did air quotes, “real philosophy behind the bunk tournament.”
“Bailey wouldn’t be saying that if she were stuck with the newb.” Isa had a duffle bag that was bigger than she was strapped to her back and she was dribbling a soccer ball while she walked. I was bunking with a bunch of super freaks.
“Obviously, Bailey stuck us with Maisy on purpose. That’s what the A twins were implying,” said Bea.
I had forgotten about Bea’s habit of using big vocabulary words all the time to show off how smart she is from reading all those books.
I felt like I was going to faint at any moment. I get hypoglycemic for real, even though Addy says I’m just a hypochondriac. She’s only a year younger than me, but she thinks she knows everything.
Isa slowed down to my pitiful pace and said, “You’re the only other girl in our bunk besides me who isn’t the color of a Band-Aid. So what are you?”
People always ask Addy and me this because we both have our dad’s deep olive skin, full lips, and large almond-shaped hazel eyes and our mom’s thick honey-streaked hair, button nose, and delicate frame. “So my mom’s Irish, Scottish, English, and Hungarian, and according to family legend, part Native American. My dad’s half Italian and half Filipino,” I said, ticking each nationality off on my fingers.
“Okay, let’s hope all those international genes help us win the tournament,” Isa said, with a smirk. Then she dribbled her soccer ball away from me.
We finally stopped walking when we got to a row of mini log cabins. They were kind of cute, and I would have loved staying in one in any other situation but this one. They had tiny sloped roofs with scalloped shingles like the playhouse Addy and I had when we were little. Each cabin had a cozy porch with bright painted rocking chairs, perfect for hanging out in.
By the time we got there, I thought my back was going to break from my heavy bag. If I had known I would be carrying it a million miles through the woods to get to my bunk, I definitely wouldn’t have packed so much.
I watched as the other packs of girls came running out of the woods to their cabins, claiming beds and yelling in excitement. Poppy and Bea got to our cabin first and started jumping up and down and shrieking on the porch. Then Hannah and Isa ran over. Isa did not look like the jump-up-and-down-and-yell kind of girl, but turns out she wa
s.
Ainsley walked right past them. “Leave your stuff on your bunks and get changed for swimming.” Ainsley threw her whole body into the door to get it open. “Oh, and Bea, you’re bunking with Maisy.”
Bea had that phlegmy sound she always gets when she’s about to cry. “But I always bunk with Poppy.”
“Seriously, Bea?” Ainsley pitched her stuff down onto a single bed by the door that was clearly meant for the counselor. “You’re the only one who knows Maisy, so you’re bunking with her. The maintenance guy put an extra cot in here. Poppy, you can take that.”
Bea put her bag on the bottom bunk without saying a word. Even though she obviously hates me, she still took the bottom bunk because she knows my legit fear of sleeping under someone else. Whenever we stayed at my grandma’s house in the Berkshires, Bea always took the bottom bunk because she knew I was terrified that the top bunk would come crashing down on me in the middle of the night. I know it would make perfect sense for me to be scared of heights, but I’m more scared of the top bunk crushing me to death in my sleep. It had been a hard year, separating myself from the one person who knew me better than anyone else. But it’s not like I had a choice.
I dragged my duffle to the set of drawers next to our bunk. I unzipped the bag and dug through my shorts and T-shirts to get to my bathing suit. I only wanted to bring bikinis, but Dad made me buy a serious one-piece that looked more like one of Addy’s gymnastics leotards. I crossed my fingers that the shiny purple and silver Speedo would make me doggy paddle fast enough to pass the swim test.
No one talked to me as we all shoved our stuff in drawers and changed. At first, I was relieved to see the other girls wearing one-piece bathing suits because I was used to wearing the right thing, but then I realized it didn’t matter. It was like I wasn’t even in the cabin. I had never been in a situation where everyone else is part of a group and I wasn’t.
Camp Clique Page 2
