Text copyright © 2018 Monique Polak
Illustrations copyright © 2018 Jane Heinrichs
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Polak, Monique, author
Princess Angelica, camp catastrophe / Monique Polak ; illustrated by Jane Heinrichs.
(Orca echoes)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4598-1538-4 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1539-1 (PDF).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1540-7 (EPUB)
I. Heinrichs, Jane, 1982-, illustrator II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes
PS863.O43P75 2018 jC813'.6 C2017-904491-5
C2017-904492-3
First published in the United States, 2018
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017949724
Summary: In this early chapter book, Angelica is mistaken for a princess on her way to summer camp.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Edited by Liz Kemp
Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Jane Heinrichs
Author photo by Terence Byrnes
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.
21 20 19 18 • 4 3 2 1
Orca Book Publishers is proud of the hard work our authors do and of the important stories they create. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or did not check it out from a library provider, then the author has not received royalties for this book. The ebook you are reading is licensed for single use only and may not be copied, printed, resold or given away. If you are interested in using this book in a classroom setting, we have digital subscriptions that feature multi user, simultaneous access to our books that are easy for your students to read. For more information, please contact [email protected].
For the real-life Angelica, Angelica Antonakopoulos, aka Jelly, who helped inspire this story.
—MP
In memory of my dad, who took me on wonderful canoe trips down the Red River and fishing in the Whiteshell.
—JH
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
An Excerpt from Lark Holds the Key
Chapter One
Chapter One
“Did I ever tell you we have an elevator?” I ask Maddie.
Her brown eyes widen. “You never mentioned it. But that is seriously cool. Where is it?”
Maddie believes all my stories. It’s one of the reasons she’s my best friend.
Another reason is that she is super kind. It also helps that Maddie lives two doors down, which is handy, especially during snowstorms.
“Our elevator is at the back of my parents’ closet.”
“Where does it go to?”
Maddie always asks a lot of questions. Luckily, I am great at coming up with answers.
“To the attic.”
“Can we ride it?”
I was hoping she would ask. “Yup. There’s just one hitch.” I pause. That will make her even more eager for a ride on our elevator. “I have to blindfold you.” I make it sound like blindfolding your best friend is no big deal.
“Blindfold me? Jelly, is this one of your stories?”
I make a huffing sound so she will know I am insulted. “Of course not. The blindfold is for insurance purposes. So you won’t sue.” My parents are both lawyers, so I know a lot about suing.
When we get to my parents’ bedroom, I grab a dark scarf from my mother’s drawer and tie it over Maddie’s eyes.
“Can you see anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“Perfect.”
I spin her around three times. Then I lead her into my parents’ closet. I guide her so she doesn’t trip over the shoes and boots. “Okay,” I tell her. “We’re inside the elevator now.”
I clang together two wire hangers and stamp my feet on the closet floor. “Whoa,” I say. “We’re going up. I feel it in my stomach.”
“Me too,” says Maddie.
I grin. My plan is working.
“What’s up in your attic?” she asks.
“Skeletons.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head.
“Cool.”
“We’re nearly there,” I tell her. I clang together the wire hangers again. “The elevator doors are about to open.”
“I can’t believe I have a friend who has her own elevator,” Maddie says to herself.
“We’re there.” I grab her elbow and lead her out of the closet. “Are you ready to see skeletons? Do you promise you won’t sue?”
“Yes and yes.” Maddie’s voice catches in her throat. That is probably because she has never seen a skeleton before.
I spin Maddie around three more times—and untie the scarf. “Ta-dum!”
Maddie is trembling.
Because the lights are out in my parents’ bedroom, it takes her a minute to realize what’s going on.
There are no skeletons.
We are not in the attic.
There is no elevator.
Maddie hops up and down. “Jelly,” she cries out, “you made that story up!”
There is another reason why Maddie is my best friend.
Other kids might get angry.
Not Maddie.
Because a second later, the two of us are laughing so hard we end up rolling around on the floor in my parents’ bedroom.
Chapter Two
The yellow school bus is waiting in the parking lot. The driver supervises as parents stow their kids’ duffel bags in the bottom hatch. Counselors are wandering around, checking in with parents and campers.
I take a deep breath. I’ve slept over at Maddie’s house plenty of times, but this is my first time going to sleepaway camp, and Maddie is not coming. Her grandmaman from France is visiting this summer.
Mom hugs me tight. “We’ll miss you, Angelica.” Then she whispers into my hair, “It might be wise to keep your storytelling under control while you are with new friends.”
Dad hugs me next. “We love you, Jelly.”
I watch as they walk back to the car. Before Dad gets in, he turns to give me one last wave. “Have a great adventure, Princess! The royal court won’t be the same without you!” he calls out.
Mom shakes her head. She doesn’t like Dad calling me Princess. She thinks it encourages gender stereotypes and snobbishness.
A girl with red hair and freckles is waiting to get on the bus too. She looks at me, then at her sandals, then back at me. “Your dad still calls you Princess?” she says. “That’s silly. Unless, of course, you really are one.”
An idea begins to form in my head. I throw back my shoulders and straighten my posture. I can practically feel the crown on my head. “As a matter of fact, I am a princess. Princess Angelica.” Instead of offering her my hand for shaking, I give her a regal nod.
“Jenna Trudel,” she says a little nervously.
Then she curtsies, something that is not that easy to do when you are standing in a line. “I didn’t know princesses went to camp.”
“We don’t usually. My parents thought it would be good for me to get a break from the royal court. All that fine food.”
Jenna has trouble looking me in the eye. She is obviously not used to making small talk with royalty. “Your parents,” she says. “The king and queen. I think I saw them in the parking lot.”
I consider what Jenna might have seen—my mom snapping a photo of me on her phone, my dad in his khakis. “Those weren’t my parents,” I tell her. “They were my lady- and gentleman-in-waiting. Hey, do you want to sit together on the bus?”
Jenna grins. “It would be an honor,” she says, and then she adds, “Your Majesty.”
There are hardly any seats left on the bus. Kids are telling jokes, and the girls in the seat behind us are singing “The Wheels on the Bus.” The counselors are walking up and down the aisles, taking attendance.
“Where’d the bus driver go?” a boy’s voice calls from the back seat. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss afternoon swim!”
The air smells like sunscreen, tuna sandwiches and stale vomit. I reach over and slide the window open. I spot the bus driver outside. He is wiping his forehead and looking distressed. “What’s wrong with you?” I hear him ask.
At first I think he’s talking to some kid who refuses to get on the bus, but when he says, “You always close. I don’t know why you won’t close today,” I realize he is addressing the luggage hatch underneath the bus. More precisely, the door to the luggage hatch.
I lean out the window and watch as he slams it shut. The hatch pops back open. Even when the driver kicks it, it still does not stay shut.
“Excuse me,” I say. “You might try this…” I take a bobby pin out of my hair and hand it to him.
The driver sighs. “What use is a hairpin? This door needs to be replaced. I’d better call the parts department.” He checks his watch. “We’ll be lucky if we get to camp in time for dinner.”
“Before you make that call,” I tell the driver, “why don’t you at least try wedging in my bobby pin?”
The driver shrugs. “Ridiculous!” he says. But then, probably because he has nothing to lose, he wedges in the bobby pin like I suggested and slams the door shut.
The driver keeps his eyes on the hatch. He is waiting for it to pop open.
But it stays closed.
He rattles the handle, testing my solution. “Who knew?!” The driver gives me a thumbs-up.
When he takes his seat behind the wheel, the kids on the bus break into a chorus of cheers.
Jenna looks really impressed. “How did you know that would fix the door?”
“I just thought it might. What’s the big deal?” I ask her.
“Well…I just never thought…you know…I guess I thought princesses just sat on their thrones and looked pretty and got spoiled.”
“FYI,” I tell her, “Princess Angelica is not the sitting-around type.”
Chapter Three
Our cabin is called Pinecone. Jenna and I share it with two other girls, Joon and Amber. Our counselor, Terry-Anne, is responsible for two bunks—Pinecone and Maple Leaf, which is just across the gravel path.
Terry-Anne is over at Maple Leaf. She must be explaining to the girls there the things she just explained to us—the linens for our cots are in the closet, and we have to make our own beds every morning and keep the cabin tidy.
Terry-Anne also explained that the cabins don’t have their own bathrooms. We share an outhouse with the girls from Maple Leaf.
The outhouse is not as bad as it sounds. It is small, but it smells like the woods, and there is plenty of toilet paper. When I get back from using it, I know from Joon’s and Amber’s sideway glances that Jenna has told them I am royalty.
My hunch is confirmed when Joon offers to make up my cot. And also when I complain that my pillow is too hard and Amber offers to trade and give me hers, which is softer.
“I like the corners tucked in,” I tell Joon as she pulls my blanket over the sheets.
“You’re right, this is softer,” I tell Amber when I test her pillow.
After the beds are made, we unpack our bags. We all share one dresser. The girls insist I take the top drawer, which is the largest.
“Do we call you Princess Angelica? Or do you prefer Your Majesty?” Joon asks when we have finished unpacking and are lying on our cots.
“Either one is fine,” I tell her.
“Well then, Princess Angelica, do you mind telling us about the royal court?” Amber asks.
Now is the perfect moment to tell the truth, to confess that I am not really a princess. But I don’t want my new friends to think I’m a liar. Besides, if they knew I was just a regular girl like them, they wouldn’t look at me the way they are looking at me now. They wouldn’t think I was special, and they wouldn’t be so eager to hear my stories. I adjust myself on the bed. “Certainly.” I close my eyes. My imagination works best when my eyes are shut.
“I come from a kingdom very far away,” I begin.
“Is it in Europe?” Jenna asks. “Or Asia?”
“My parents are from Asia,” Joon says.
“I’m afraid I can’t divulge the precise location. For security reasons. But I can tell you that I live in a humongous stone castle surrounded by a moat filled with crocodiles.”
“Crocodiles? Isn’t that dangerous?” Joon asks.
“No, they only eat intruders. The crocodiles have known me since I was a baby. They let me ride on their backs. They’re better than floaties—or rafts.”
“What’s your room like?” Amber asks.
“My room is at the top of a turret. I have my own elevator.”
“I bet there isn’t an outhouse,” Jenna says.
“Of course not. I have an en suite bathroom. With a Jacuzzi, which is constantly filled with jelly-bean-scented bubble bath.”
“Wow,” Joon says. “I love jelly beans. What’s the furniture like in your royal bedroom?”
“It’s all gold. Even the canopy over my bed is gold. Eighteen carat.”
I open my eyes. My cot is by the window. Outside, the sky is turning gray. A gust of wind makes the checkered curtains rustle. “The curtains in my royal bedroom are purple velvet, and they go swish. I find the sound very relaxing. Did I mention the round-the-clock room service? If I want a milkshake—or a chocolate éclair—I text the royal kitchen and presto! Someone brings it right up. The milkshake comes in a silver goblet.”
I can hear Joon licking her lips. “Chocolate éclairs are my favorite dessert in all the world,” she says.
My eyes land on the night table between my cot and Jenna’s. There is a book called Scariest Stories Ever on Jenna’s side of the table. “There’s a wonderful library in the castle. All I have to do is think about the sort of book I’d like to read. Next thing I know, it comes sliding down a golden chute and lands at the foot of my bed.”
Amber sits up in her cot. “I don’t understand. If all you have to do is think of a book…why doesn’t it work that way with the food too? You said if you get hungry, you text the royal kitchen. Why couldn’t you just think of a milkshake, and they would send it through the golden chute?”
Luckily, coming up with quick answers is one of my talents. “Because it would spill,” I tell her.
Jenna nods. “Of course it would.”
“I guess.” Amber does not sound convinced. I hope she won’t ask for her pillow back.
“What kinds of things do you do at the royal court?” Joon asks. “Besides eating and reading and taking bubble baths and swimming with your crocodiles?”
“I fix things.”
Amber rolls over on her cot and opens her eyes so she is looking right at me. “You fix things? That doesn’t sound very princess-y. Aren’t there staff around to fix things for you?”
“Of course there are. But I happen to enjoy fixing things.”
>
“Princess Angelica fixed the luggage hatch on the bus,” Jenna chimes in.
Outside, it has begun to rain. I guess there will be no free swim this afternoon.
A plump raindrop lands on Amber’s forehead. It is followed by another, plumper raindrop.
There is a leak in the roof right over Amber’s cot.
“I’ll get the tin pail from the porch,” Joon offers.
Amber puts the pail under the leaky spot. Every droplet makes a ping when it lands inside the pail. “You don’t actually think I’m going to be able to sleep with this pail next to me and all that pinging, do you?” Amber asks.
She turns to me. “If you enjoy fixing things, Princess Angelica, why don’t you do something about our roof?”
Chapter Four
Lining the tin pail with a towel was my idea. The roof kept leaking, but at least the pinging stopped.
In the morning the sun is shining. The only memory of last night’s rain is the bucket, which Amber empties into the flower box on the porch.
I tell the other girls in my bunk it's better not to tell Terry-Anne I am royalty. “I don’t want any extra-special treatment,” I explain.
Amber gives me a sidelong look. “If it were me,” she says, “I’d want all the extra-special treatment I could get.”
“I’ve had extra-special treatment all my life. I’m curious to know what life is like as a commoner.”
When Terry-Ann hears about the leaky roof, she texts the camp director. The director texts back to say that Leonard, the handyman, is repairing the dock. The roof will have to wait until tomorrow or even the day after. “They’re forecasting more rain tonight. I’m afraid you’ll need to use the bucket again,” Terry-Anne tells Amber.
Terry-Anne turns to me. “Lining the bucket was a great idea, Angelica.” The compliment makes me glow.
The other girls are discussing what to wear to breakfast.
“Can you believe there’s no full-length mirror in this cabin?” Amber says.
“Do these shorts look okay?” Jenna wants to know.
Princess Angelica, Camp Catastrophe Page 1
