Church Camp Chaos

by Annie Tipton

  “But don’t count on it,” Mom added.

  “Okay, on to the judging,” Mrs. Winkle said. On her cue, everyone took a bite of Mom’s Heaven-Sent Cupcakes.

  EJ had to admit it was pretty amazing.

  “Oh honey, it’s like a fluffy cloud in my mouth!” Dad said. “In the best way possible, of course.”

  “Light as a feather,” Nana said, smiling. “I’ve taught you well, Tabby.”

  Mom beamed and said, “Let’s see if I’ve done as good a job in teaching my daughter as you’ve taught me.”

  EJ peeled back the paper liner of her cupcake and took one last admiring look at the perfectly piped chocolate frosting, edible gold flecks, and multicolored sprinkles before taking a giant bite of her cupcake …

  … a bite she immediately regretted.

  Maybe I just got a dud, EJ thought as she tried to choke down the disgusting bite of cake. My perfect Dreamstar Cupcakes can’t all be this bad….

  “BLECH!” EJ looked up to see Isaac spit out his cupcake onto Mr. Johnson’s napkin bib.

  In one fluid motion—even faster than Mr. Johnson could react—Mom responded by scooping up the napkin and cake spit on Mr. Johnson’s chest and removing them from sight.

  “That cupcake was Nasty McNasterson!” Isaac yelled, confirming what EJ feared: her cupcakes were terrible. She felt the sting of disappointed tears in her eyes, and her stomach lurched in embarrassment.

  EJ searched the faces around the table to find looks of disgust—not just at Isaac’s display of bad table manners but obviously because they wished they could spit out the cupcake like Isaac had just done. Pops looked like he was trying to will himself to chew once, twice—enough to somehow swallow the tragedy in his mouth. Mrs. Winkle was fanning her face with her hand, her cheeks bulging with inedible cake. Dad gulped some water to try to dilute the taste in his mouth and patted his belly, trying (unsuccessfully) to convince EJ it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.

  She knew there was only one way to end this cake standoff, so she picked up her napkin and deposited her mouthful of putrid dessert into it.

  “Nobody has to eat these,” EJ announced.

  The adults around the table plastered painful-looking smiles on their faces and shrugged their shoulders, which EJ interpreted as “Oh, it’s not so bad,” and “I think if I just try another bite, the taste will grow on me.”

  Isaac looked around at the faces and said, “EJ, you think I’m crazy, but they are the crazy ones! Your cupcakes are awful!”

  “I know, Isaac!” EJ hissed at her brother, embarrassed heat rising in her cheeks. “Why do you think I spit mine out?”

  EJ watched the faces around the table start to turn a particularly sick shade of green. She appreciated that everyone was trying to make her feel okay about her cupcakes, but enough was enough.

  “Seriously, everyone. I don’t care that it’s my birthday. So, please,” she pleaded. “Spit. It. Out!”

  There was a moment when the adults looked at EJ to make sure she was really okay with what was about to happen. Seeing their hesitation, EJ nodded, and then there was a collective sigh of relief as everyone spit cake into their napkins.

  “Oh EJ!” Mrs. Winkle said after taking a drink of water. “I have to give you some credit for such a spectacularly terrible cupcake.”

  EJ smiled to herself, and her embarrassment began to melt away. Mrs. Winkle always knew how to find the bright side of every situation.

  “It tasted like the bottom of a shoe after a walk on the beach,” Dad said, using a spoon to scrape the taste out of his mouth. “Salty and gritty. Any idea how you managed that, EJ?”

  “I followed the recipe.” EJ shrugged. “Maybe it was sabotaged.”

  “Maybe, but you’re competing against your mom,” Dad said. “She likes to win almost as much as you do, but I don’t think she’s so competitive that she would ruin her own daughter’s cupcakes.”

  “Um, EJ,” Mom called from inside the pantry. “Where did you get the sugar you used for the cupcakes?”

  “From a plastic bowl with sugar in it,” she said, envisioning the bowl she had found on the stovetop.

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Mom said, emerging from the pantry with the bowl in her hands. “It’s not sugar. It’s salt I use for cleaning the copper bottoms of my pots. I must’ve left it out last time I was cleaning!”

  “Mystery number two of the evening, solved,” EJ said, raising the magnifying glass to her eye. “Next time I need a Watson, you’re my man—er—woman, Mom.”

  Chapter 4

  THEM ALL (OF AMERICA)

  June 18

  Dear Diary,

  Reason 648 to love summer vacation: road trips!

  Nana and Pops are taking Isaac, Bert, and me on an overnight trip to Minneapolis. I’m writing this diary entry from the comfy couch in their Winnebago, the Wisconsin countryside speeding by outside the window. Pops is behind the wheel, singing an eighteenth verse of “Down by the Bay” at the top of his lungs while Bert sits in the co-captain seat, howling along at the “back to my home, I dare not goooooo” part. (Bert likes to think of himself as a world-famous opera singer. So what if he is a dog?) Nana and Isaac are sitting at the kitchenette table playing “I Spy,” and Isaac is definitely winning. I’m pretty sure he’s cheating, because he keeps making up names of colors. (I just heard him say, “I spy something greepurlow,” which I’m guessing is green, purple, and yellow.) But Nana seems to be playing along, so maybe the names of colors have changed since I was in kindergarten.

  If you ask me, this is a pretty great way to travel. The plans for today include spending the afternoon at the Mall of America. To be honest, Diary, I was a little nervous when Nana said we were going to spend most of the day at a mall. (I mean, you and I both know how I feel about shopping.) But apparently there is a LOT more to do at this mall than just shop—like an aquarium, a movie theater, miniature golf, and even an indoor amusement park.

  That sounds like my kind of shopping.

  EJ

  EJ closed her diary before stretching out on the small couch.

  “Hey, Pops, can I ask you something?” she called up to her grandpa, who was expertly driving the camper down the highway.

  “Anything, DG,” Pops said. EJ loved it when he called her DG—short for “dear granddaughter.” He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Ask away!”

  “How many verses of ‘Down by the Bay’ are there?” she asked, grinning.

  “Not enough!” Pops replied, knowing EJ was teasing him about his never-ending singing. “Let’s come up with a few more.”

  “Have you already done ‘Did you ever see a bear combing his hair?’ ” EJ asked.

  “Please, do I look like an amateur?” Pops said. “That’s the very first verse Bert and I sang.”

  “How about ‘a llama wearing his pajamas’?” EJ asked.

  “Yep, did that one, too,” Pops said. “Come on—give me something new to inspire me.”

  EJ thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind.

  “Did you ever see a dino, falling on his spine-o?” Isaac laughed like it was the most hilarious thing he’d ever said.

  “Spine-o? Really?” EJ rolled her eyes.

  “Now there’s a fantastic verse to add to the mix, sport,” Pops said, chuckling. “Here we go. Altogether now—“ Pops began to sing at the top of his lungs:

  Pops: Down by the bay …

  Nana and Isaac: Down by the bay …

  Pops: Where the watermelons grow …

  Nana and Isaac: Where the watermelons grow …

  “Can’t hear you, EJ!” Pops said. “Come on, now. Without you, our four-part harmony is a sad three.”

  Bert yipped and glared at Pops.

  “Oh right. My apologies, Bertie,” Pops said to the pup. “Five-part harmony.”

  “All right, all right,” EJ said, giving in. “Just so you know, I’m singing under protest that spine-o isn’t an actual word.”

&
nbsp; Pops winked at EJ in the rearview mirror, cleared his throat, and picked up where he left off:

  Pops: Back to my home …

  Nana, Isaac, and EJ: Back to my home …

  Pops: I dare not goooooo!

  Nana, Isaac, and EJ: I dare not goooooo! (Bert: Ooooooo!)

  Pops: For if I do …

  Nana, Isaac, and EJ: For if I do …

  Pops: My mother will say …

  Nana, Isaac, and EJ: My mother will say …

  Everybody: Did you ever see a dino, falling on his spine-o—down by the bay?

  Fifteen minutes later, after they’d gone through about a dozen new verses (EJ’s favorite was “Did you ever see a possum doing something awesome?”), Isaac asked, “Who are we going to see when we get to America?”

  Nana looked at EJ with a “Do you know what your brother is talking about?” look. EJ shrugged. She rarely knew what was going on in her brother’s head.

  “What do you mean ‘when we get to America,’ sweetie?” Nana asked Isaac. “We’re in America now.”

  “Well, I think we’re still in America,” Pops said from behind the wheel. “I’m not sure I completely trust the navigation system in this camper. We might actually be in Canada by now.”

  EJ hoped that meant they’d hear some French-Canadian accents at their next stop. But when she saw the twinkle in Pops’s eye, she realized he was just kidding.

  “But Mom told me last night at bedtime that you guys were taking me and EJ to America to see them all.” EJ could see that Isaac was getting a tiny bit frustrated as he tried to explain himself. “So I want to know who ‘them all’ is.”

  “Them all. Them all,” Nana repeated the phrase, mulling it over until her face lit up with recognition. “Oh! Isaac! The mall! We’re going to the Mall of America! Not ‘them all’—it’s ‘the mall’! Can you hear how they sort of sound the same?”

  Isaac nodded, his cheeks and ears turning red. EJ could tell he was embarrassed at his silly mistake. It wasn’t like usual when Isaac was being goofy on purpose. This time he actually didn’t know what he was saying, and EJ knew this could end badly—maybe in tears. Even though her brother was a Space Invader, she didn’t like to see him cry. Without hesitating, EJ started laughing and even threw in a snort for believability.

  “Isaac, you really had us going!” EJ said in between fits of laughing, wiping away nonexistent laugh tears from her eyes. “Seriously, kid, you really know how to tell a good joke.”

  Nana and Pops joined in, laughing. Isaac looked from face to face, not sure at first how to respond, but he quickly brightened and took his cue from EJ’s words.

  “If you think that joke was good, wait till I pull out the big guns.” Isaac grinned a missing-tooth grin. “Knock-knock.”

  EJ groaned and put a couch pillow over her head.

  “The crowd holds its breath while world-famous golfer EJ Payne sizes up the hole. The youngest golfer ever to qualify for a professional tournament, Miss Payne has the eyes of the entire world on her as she takes the most important putt of her career.”

  “No pressure or anything,” EJ mutters to the unseen announcer voice.

  “This particular par-four has quite a few tricky obstacles, including banked inclines, two bowling ball–size rocks right down the middle, and a waterfall hazard that could pose a problem for EJ.”

  EJ gets down on her hands and knees and looks toward the pin. She’ll have to hook the ball around the waterfall to reach the hole—a nearly impossible shot for even the most skilled putter.

  “No sweat.” EJ flashes a winning smile to the spectators as she stands up and grips her putter. “Hey kids, eat a good breakfast and you can be a superstar golfer, too. Watch this.”

  EJ takes a practice swing with the putter before stepping up to the ball. One last look at the hole and she taps the ball with an expert amount of speed and spin … avoiding the inclines … past the rocks … hooking around the water—

  Splash!

  “Noooooo!” EJ dropped her golf club, crumpled to her knees, and shook her fists in the air in a display of drama that rivaled any nail-biter on the PGA tour. The sound of the excited screams coming from the indoor roller coaster had jolted her out of her daydream, but she was disappointed in the shot on the Moose Mountain Adventure Golf Course, nonetheless.

  “Good job, EJ!” Isaac ran to the base of the waterfall and pointed to EJ’s red golf ball at the bottom of the shallow pool. “You got it right in the water!”

  “That’s not what I was aiming for, Isaac!” EJ wondered if Isaac fully understood the point of golf.

  “Aw, that shot looked golden, DG!” Pops retrieved EJ’s golf ball from the water and set it on the green so she could take her next shot. “I guess your championship chances are done for today, huh?”

  “Yeah.” EJ picked up her putter and stood up. “I don’t think golf is really my sport.”

  “The clothes are spectacular,” Nana said with a hint of humor in her voice, “but I doubt most courses would let you wear your Converse All-Stars on the greens.”

  “Deal breaker!” EJ said, smiling. “I never really wanted to be a golfer anyway.”

  “Pops, it says that the kids’ meals are for ages ten and under,” EJ said, pointing to the Rainforest Café menu. “Does that mean …?” She let the question hang in the air.

  “Well, you’re eleven now, DG,” Pops said, looking up from his menu and over his reading glasses at EJ. “Looks like you’re a full-fledged adult! At least by restaurant standards.”

  “Yesss!” EJ disappeared behind the menu to concentrate on making the best possible choice.

  “I will always want to order from the kids’ menu—even when I’m a hundred,” Isaac said, drawing with crayons on the jungle-themed kids’ menu. “They’ve got dinosaur-shaped nuggets.”

  “That does seem like a no-brainer, sport,” Pops said, smiling. “I wonder if they’ll let me order those, too.”

  “What a fantastic restaurant,” Nana said, looking up at the ceiling decorated to look like the tree canopy of a rainforest. “It’s like being in the great outdoors without the giant bugs.”

  “Oooo! Do they have bugs on the menu?” Isaac asked. “Those would go great on top of my dino nuggets!”

  Nana pretended to check the menu. “No bugs. Sorry, buddy.” Nana didn’t sound very sorry.

  A perky waitress arrived at the table.

  “Hi, I’m Candace, and I’ll be taking care of you today,” she said, taking a pad of paper and pen out of her apron pocket. “What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll have the buffalo wings,” EJ said decisively, folding the menu and setting it in front of her. “And water to drink, please.”

  Pops peered at EJ over his reading glasses. “EJ, are you sure you want buffalo wings? The menu says they’re spicy.”

  “Bring it on!” EJ smiled at Pops, licked her lips, and rubbed her hands together. “The spicier the better, I say.”

  EJ saw Nana and Pops raise their eyebrows at each other.

  “Okay, EJ, if you say so,” Nana said, shrugging.

  Candace took the rest of the orders (a Cobb salad for Nana, a turkey club sandwich for Pops, and dino nuggets with fries for Isaac, water all around), picked up the menus, and left the table.

  “So, what’s new in the world of my favorite grandkids?” Pops asked, slipping his reading glasses into the chest pocket of his Hawaiian shirt.

  “I’m going to day camp with EJ!” Isaac said, bouncing in his chair. “It’s going to be the best day this summer!”

  “You’re not going with me,” EJ corrected him. “I’m going to be at camp all week, and you’re going to come and invade my space for a day.”

  A genius idea crossed EJ’s mind. “Actually, Isaac, you know what would be super fun at day camp?”

  “What?” Isaac asked, his eyes bright.

  “If you pretend that I’m invisible and I pretend you’re invisible!” EJ said, trying her best to sell the plan to her
little brother. “You and I would both know that we’re there, but everyone else will think that we can’t see each other because we’re not talking to or even looking at each other!”

  “Whoa!” Isaac seemed to like the possibility. “Like a secret mission?”

  Nana and Pops chuckled.

  “EJ, you really shouldn’t tease your brother,” Nana said. “There are lots of kids out there who wish they had siblings like you and Isaac.”

  “Those kids can have him,” EJ said under her breath.

  “Nana’s right,” Pops said. “Take me, for example. I was an only child because my parents died in a car accident when I was two.”

  EJ had heard the story before—how Pops didn’t have any relatives who could take him in, so he lived in three different foster homes before he was finally adopted when he was nine.

  “But when Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa Wiley adopted you, you got two older brothers and a little sister,” EJ said. “Didn’t they ever get on your nerves?”

  “Oh, sure. We absolutely annoyed each other. I’m sure they thought I was such a pest sometimes,” Pops said, grinning. “But I liked having siblings a lot more than not having siblings.”

  EJ tried to imagine what it would be like to be an only child. For the first five years of her life, she had been an only child—but she remembered just bits and pieces of what that was like. Some of her first memories were of being excited that a new baby brother was going to join the family. She even helped Mom decide on decorations for the nursery—a Noah’s ark theme. And she remembered picking out a stuffed T-Rex toy especially for the baby before he was born. Isaac still slept with that raggedy T-Rex, missing left eye and all.

  “Buffalo chicken wings?” Candace was holding up a large plate of wings in front of EJ’s nose.

  “Yeah, that’s me, thanks.” EJ pulled her elbows from the table to make room for the plate. After placing everyone else’s food in front of them, Candace said she’d be back in a bit to check on them and walked away.