“And Chloe wouldn’t eat turtle soup either,” Zinnie said. “She’s a vegetarian.”
Marigold held her breath, praying that Zinnie didn’t say more. The last thing she needed was for Peter to know that Chloe was Mr. Rathbone’s niece.
“Chloe? What’s Chloe have to do with all this?” Peter asked.
“She’s Mr. Rathbone’s niece,” Zinnie said.
“She is?” Peter asked, turning to Marigold, who felt herself blush.
“Wait, you didn’t know that?” Zinnie asked.
Peter looked at Marigold with shock and confusion. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to hang out with her if you knew, and she’s my new friend, the only person I know going to my new high school—” Marigold started.
“Of course I wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with her,” Peter said, standing up. “She and her family almost ruined our chances of winning our own regatta.”
“Peter, calm down,” Jean said. “You and Vince are basically back on track—” But Peter stormed off. “He needs to cool down. Give him a moment.” Jean cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Don’t go too far!”
As she watched him head down the riverbank with his flashlight, Marigold’s throat was dry, and her heart actually ached. How could she explain to Peter how desperately she needed a friend next year, how scary it was for her to go to a new school, how horrible the Cuties had been to her, how sad she was about the loss of Pilar? Did boys go through the same things? It didn’t seem like it. And what words did she have to communicate how much she liked him, how he made her feel as light as a butterfly, that she’d been looking forward to seeing him all year and didn’t want to lose one minute of their time together over some silly details about where Chloe was from? And did he have any idea how stubborn he could be?
The thoughts were giving her both a headache and a sense of great urgency that she couldn’t fight. She knew that Jean had told her she needed to let him cool off, but she had to talk to him right now. She grabbed her lantern, stood up, and walked after him.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to everyone, and fixed her eyes on the distant beam of his flashlight.
30 • Fires and Feelings
“I’m sorry,” Marigold said as she approached Peter. He was sitting in the sand, staring out across the water. The river was lapping quietly at the shore, and the moon above was so bright they had shadows. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Peter said. He wouldn’t look at Marigold. “I feel like an idiot. I feel like . . . you tricked me.”
“Tricked you? No, no, no. I never meant to do that,” she said, searching for how to say what she needed to, which was that she liked him, really liked him, and she just hadn’t wanted to mess that up. It was that simple. But somehow telling him that felt way too scary. “Besides, it wasn’t Chloe who rented out the yacht club, it was her uncle. She just happens to be here with him.”
“Oh, come on, Marigold,” Peter said, shaking his head. She winced at the way he’d just said her name like it was a bad word. “If you really thought it wasn’t a big deal, you would have told me. Instead you lied.”
“I didn’t lie,” Marigold said. “I just didn’t tell you everything!”
“That’s the same thing,” Peter said.
“No, it’s not,” Marigold said, drawing back. He might’ve just been the most stubborn person Marigold had ever met. “Besides, what does it matter anyway? You were still able to practice enough, right?”
“Not the way we could have been,” Peter said firmly. “Our team isn’t ready for this regatta, and it’s all that Rathbone guy’s fault. If he hadn’t shown up with all his people, we would’ve been just fine.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t believe I took that girl sailing. I can’t believe she was in my boat. That’s your fault.”
“You know what?” Marigold said, her hands on her hips. “It’s not my fault and it’s not even Mr. Rathbone’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just the way things worked out. There were big storms here this winter, and the roof needed fixing, and so your parents were happy to let Mr. Rathbone shoot his TV episode—”
“Hold on,” Peter said, finally making eye contact. “Are you saying this is my parents’ fault because we didn’t have enough money of our own to fix the roof?”
“What? No, that’s crazy,” Marigold said. “Peter, you’re not even listening. Forget it!”
She turned around and headed back toward their camp, where everyone’s faces were lit by the fire. She didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Zinnie, but she wasn’t about to hang around with Peter anymore, and she was scared to walk beyond him into the woods. Marigold stopped short of rejoining the group. She was stuck, so she stood still for a moment contemplating her next move while her heart thumped in her chest.
“Everything okay?” Aunt Sunny asked.
“Yes,” Marigold said. Zinnie was looking at her, eyes round with concern. But Marigold didn’t think she could get any closer to Zinnie without wanting to scream her head off—and they’d promised not to fight. Marigold took a deep breath and said as calmly as she could, “Peter just needs time, like Jean said. And I’m really tired, so I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Good night, love,” Aunt Sunny said.
Marigold kicked off her sneakers, unzipped the tent, and crawled inside, pulling her sleeping bag around her. Her mind was racing, and though she wanted to cry, tears wouldn’t come. Bits of conversation and laughter from around the campfire drifted her way like embers, which only made her feel more alone. She wrapped her sweatshirt around her head and tried to go to sleep.
31 • Adrift
Zinnie understood why Aunt Sunny loved this place so much. The river, which lapped gently against the shore, was such a peaceful place, especially now that Marigold had zipped herself in the tent. The night air was cool and crisp, and the fire warm and crackling. There was something about sitting around a campfire toasting marshmallows that seemed to draw everyone a few inches closer together. Lily was leaning against her, Jean and Mack were holding hands, and Tony poked at the fire with a long stick to keep it roaring. Aunt Sunny was telling the story of how Beatrice and Esther used to catch fish from the river for their fun fourteenth meal when Zinnie noticed something odd.
“Um, where’s the other canoe?” Zinnie said. The canoe Tony and the Pasques had arrived in was now just . . . gone.
“Dear me,” Aunt Sunny said, standing up. “She’s right.”
“We pulled it up on the beach,” Jean said. “I did it myself.”
“Not far enough,” Mack said.
“I really don’t think that’s helpful, dear,” Jean said.
“Neither of us has gone camping since college,” Mack said.
“I see it!” Zinnie said. “It’s drifted downstream—and it’s capsized!”
“We flipped it over on the beach,” Mack said. “We thought that would keep dry in case of rain.”
“The river rose with the tide,” Tony said.
“We need a plan,” Zinnie said. Part of Zinnie’s wilderness training had been out on a lake, and she knew all about how to climb back into an overturned canoe. But they had to move quickly since the canoe was drifting with the current.
“What do we do?” Lily asked.
“We’re going to have to get it,” Aunt Sunny said, though she didn’t seem to have a solution.
Peter was now running up the shore. “The canoe’s gone?” he asked.
“It’s right there,” Zinnie said, pointing. “Okay, this is what we need to do. Four of us need to take the canoe that’s still here and catch up to it, and then Peter and I will jump in and turn it over. Oh, and we can’t forget the other set of paddles.”
“Mack and I will go with Peter and Zinnie—this is our fault, after all,” Jean said. “You and Tony stay here with Lily and Marigold.”
“If you say so,” Aunt Sunny said. “Plea
se be careful.”
Peter quickly untied the remaining canoe, and as he and Mack pushed it into the water, Zinnie and Jean climbed inside. Tony passed them the extra paddles. As Jean and Mack paddled toward the drifting canoe, Zinnie noticed that Marigold had emerged from the tent and was watching from the shore.
“Go, Zinnie, go!” Lily called, cheering them on.
When they reached the capsized canoe, Zinnie gave instructions. “So, Peter, you and I will get in the water and swim under the canoe.” Peter nodded, up for anything nautical, as usual. “And together, we’ll lift it. Jean and Mack, we’ll need you helping from inside this canoe, so that one side of that canoe can rest on this one—”
“Hopefully we all won’t end up in the drink!” Mack said.
“As long as you two can stay balanced in there, it should work,” Zinnie said. “So then the water will drain out and we can flip it over, and then Peter and I will have to climb inside of it.”
“Sounds like a plan, Zinnie,” Jean said.
“Ready, Peter?” Zinnie asked.
He smiled, took off his T-shirt, and they jumped in. The water was cold and dark, but also soft and smooth compared to ocean water. Very carefully, they performed the maneuver to drain the canoe.
“Way to go, guys,” Mack said as they all worked together to flip the canoe so it was upright again. “So now how do we get in without tipping it?” Peter asked.
“Okay,” Zinnie said, remembering everything she’d learned. “We need to get on opposite sides, close to the center, but far enough away from each other so we don’t collide. Then, on the count of three, we both lift our torsos inside. Okay?”
“Got it,” Peter said. “Ready? One, two, three!”
Zinnie and Peter both hoisted themselves on the canoe. Peter started to throw a leg over, and the canoe started to rock.
“Wait,” Zinnie said. “We need to go at the same time—but just one leg first!”
“All right,” Peter said, and they both started to giggle for some reason. Zinnie counted. “One, two, three!”
They both put one leg into the canoe, and once again, broke into a laughing fit as the canoe rocked back and forth.
“What’s so funny?” Mack asked from the other canoe.
“This!” Zinnie said, gesturing to their awkward positions. Her whole body was soaking wet and her hair no doubt frizzing beyond belief. Still, she couldn’t help but see the humor in the situation.
“Same thing with the other leg?” Peter asked.
“Yup,” Zinnie said. “One, two, three!”
Once again, the canoe rocked as she and Peter found their balance. Peter scrambled to the bow, and Zinnie gingerly stepped to the stern. They had done it! They had rescued the canoe!
Mack and Jean clapped. Zinnie heard everyone on shore cheering—except, she thought, Marigold.
“High five!” Peter said, offering his palm, and Zinnie obliged with a satisfying slap.
32 • Tent Talks
Marigold didn’t wait for Jean, Mack, Peter, and Zinnie to arrive back at the shore. Instead, she slinked back into the tent.
Minutes later, she heard footsteps, and then Zinnie poked her head inside.
“That was fun,” Zinnie said. She was soaking wet and dripping water everywhere. “Did you see that?”
“Yes, I did, Miss Show-Off,” Marigold said. “Now can you get out of this tent before everything gets totally soaked?”
“Miss Show-Off? How about Miss Hero, and I need my clothes, which are inside the tent because in case you didn’t notice, I’m totally sopping wet.”
“Here,” Marigold said, tossing Zinnie’s bag outside the tent.
“Where am I supposed to change?” Zinnie asked.
“In the woods,” Marigold said.
Zinnie stormed off somewhere out of sight to change, and then reappeared moments later.
“I really think you should find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” Marigold said.
“What? I can’t find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” Zinnie said.
“You can sleep outside,” Marigold said, gathering one of the other sleeping bags so she could throw it outside the tent.
“Except that it’s starting to rain,” Zinnie said, climbing back inside, her hair still a wet mop. Lily tumbled in after her. “What is your problem? Are you mad at me?”
“Yes! You weren’t supposed to tell Peter that Chloe is Mr. Rathbone’s niece,” Marigold hissed as Zinnie used Marigold’s sweatshirt to towel off her hair. “Oh! How dare you use my sweatshirt. Give it back!” Marigold said, ripping it from her sister’s hands.
“You don’t have to get violent!” Zinnie snapped.
“Would you two shush?” Lily said.
“Besides, I didn’t know that Peter didn’t know about Chloe,” Zinnie said as the rain pitter-pattered on the tent walls.
“Shh,” Lily said. “You don’t want Aunt Sunny to hear you fighting.”
“I mean, how was I supposed to know that?” Zinnie whispered.
“It’s common sense,” Marigold whispered back. “There’s no way he’s going to want to hang out with her now that she’s one of the Hollywood people. And she’s my only hope of starting school with a new friend. So now, thanks to you, I have to choose whether I want a boyfriend or a best friend.”
“It was a simple mistake,” Zinnie said. “It’s your fault for telling a lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” Marigold said, having now been over this in her head a hundred times. “It just wasn’t the whole truth.”
“Same thing,” Zinnie said.
“You guys think you’re whispering,” Lily said harshly. “But you’re not. This fun fourteenth means so much to Aunt Sunny, and she worked really hard to plan it. Do you want her to think it turned out badly just because you two couldn’t get along?” Marigold and Zinnie shook their heads. “Okay, then. Do I have to remind you of the rule we learned in kindergarten? If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”
“Fine,” Zinnie said, and rolled to one side of the tent.
“Fine,” said Marigold, rolling to the other. Then she rolled back. “But did you have to go and have a fun rescue mission with Peter?”
“Yes!” Zinnie said. “The canoe was floating away!”
“I know that, Zinnie. I’m not dumb. But why did you have to go with Peter—couldn’t Aunt Sunny have gone?”
“I’m the one who knew what to do because of my wilderness weekend!” Zinnie said.
Marigold huffed. “If I have to hear one more word about your stupid wilderness weekend, I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Excuse me?” Zinnie said. “That is so rude!”
“You guys are both rude!” Lily said. “And if you two speak one more word to each other tonight, I’m going to . . . Ugh. I don’t know. I’m going to . . . pee in this tent!”
“Ew,” Marigold and Zinnie said together. But then they finally shut up.
33 • A Sister Needs to Take Care of Herself, Right?
When Zinnie opened her laptop on Monday morning, she realized that her last blog post about the bison had been a huge hit. She’d added some really great pictures, including an action shot of the attack goose. She couldn’t believe it, but there were twenty-three comments about the post! There was even one comment from Mrs. Lee. She’d written: “Your search for adventure is paying off. Just when I think you can’t top your last one, you do! Way to go!” And of course there was a comment from Max: “Sounds awesome!” Zinnie smiled as she reread that comment a bunch of times. One of the pictures she’d posted was of the horses in love. She’d included it to send a little signal back to Max, one that said I’m noticing all of these clues and I like you, too. Where, she wondered, would he lead her next?
Zinnie then got straight to work typing a story about the latest adventure—the fun fourteenth. She played up the part about rescuing the canoe, though the true adventure had been spending the night in a zipped-up tent next to a sister wh
o was furious with her. After last summer’s fiasco, she had promised not to write about Marigold ever again, though she regretted that promise now. Zinnie had no intention of libeling her sister; she just wanted to write about the actual story. Oh well, she sighed.
Zinnie was debating whether or not it was good enough to publish when Marigold marched outside and said, “I’m going to take Lily to camp, and then I’m going to help Jean. Are you coming?” They hadn’t been fighting, but they’d also been far from friendly. Zinnie still felt like Marigold was being completely unfair, and Marigold was obviously not ready to forgive her for revealing her deception.
“I can’t,” Zinnie said. “I need to work on my blog.”
“You’ve been working on it all morning,” Marigold said. “And I need your help copying and folding the programs for the historical house tour. And we have to paint a sign for Aunt Sunny’s exhibit on piping plovers. Zinnie, we don’t have a lot of time. You really aren’t a very good assistant.”
“Because I’m not your assistant!” Zinnie said.
“Guys,” Lily said. “It sounds like you’re fighting again.”
“We’re not,” Zinnie said. “It’s just that I can’t help with all of that. If I want to be editor in chief, I need to do my very best. I can’t just do your bidding all the time.”
“Okay,” Marigold said in a calm voice, though Zinnie could tell from the tightness of her lips that she was doing everything she could not to yell at her.
Sometimes a sister has to take care of herself, Zinnie thought. She experienced a brief feeling of empowerment, but it was soon squashed by the sense that she was letting everybody down. How was a person supposed to know, she wondered, when to take care of herself and when to take care of others?
“Oh, and I saw this morning that one of your friends’ blogs is being featured on Huzzah.com,” Marigold said.
“What?” Zinnie asked. “The real Huzzah.com?”
“The supercool website that has everything the modern girl wants to know, from fashion to politics, yes. That one,” Marigold said.
The Silver Moon of Summer Page 13
