Witch Twins at Camp Bliss

by Adele Griffin

  Claire crossed her fingers as Grandy cleared her throat.

  “Girls,” Grandy began, coaxing, “To get this boring drive over with means casting a spell. I seem to have forgotten, however, the correct speed-driving spell. The only one that comes to my mind is a speed-sailing spell. But surely you do not want to sit in this car with me and my terrible mood for the next couple of hours, do you?” Her voice was loud and deep, ready to cast. “Young witches mine, be we in agreement? Aye or nay?”

  “Aye!” shouted Claire.

  “Aye,” said Luna, very quietly because, Claire suspected, she did not want to get to Camp Bliss any earlier than she absolutely had to.

  “Ayes have it. Hold tight!” Grandy ordered. With a tap of her finger north, south, west, and east on the odometer, she cast:

  Batten down the hatches!

  Blow, wind, blow.

  We’ll sail to Bliss

  In the undertow.

  There was a rush of freezing cold. Claire shut her eyes as what felt like a giant wave, then another, then a third, pounded and crashed the sides of the Lincoln Continental. It sounded so real and salty wet that Claire almost believed she was getting soaked. When she opened her eyes again, she realized that, as a matter of fact, she was soaked, and the car was pulling up between two blue-and-tan-striped pillars. Stretched between them was a canvas banner that read:

  CAMP BLISS WELCOMES YOU!

  “I’m drenched,” squealed Luna. “Grandy you splooshed us!”

  “Eh, spell side effect. I should have told you to roll up your windows. But at least the car had a nice wash.” Their grandmother turned on her windshield wipers and slowed over the speed bump. “Humph. Looks like we’re right on time.”

  The parking lot was full. Dozens of girls milled around, waving to one another. Some carried tennis rackets. Some clung to their parents’ hands. Some were wearing tan-and-blue-striped Camp Bliss T-shirts.

  Claire scrunched down in her seat and tried to wring water from her shirt as she peered out the window. It was true, all of it! The rolling green fields, the curve of bright blue Lake Periwinkle in the distance, and even the posted wooden signs marked NATURE TRAIL or LODGE or SUPPLY HOUSE.

  Just like in the pamphlet. Just like the camp of Claire’s dreams.

  Water squelched in her sneakers as she jumped out of the car. She hoped nobody noticed. Arriving at Camp Bliss all wet was not exactly the first impression Claire had wanted to give. She would just have to work with it.

  The truth was that Claire wanted to be more than just another camper. She wanted to be the star camper! In fact, she wanted to be Camp Bliss Girl! She had read about it on the back page of the pamphlet. The counselors voted for the girl who “best embodied those characteristics of loyalty, sportsmanship, enterprise, and bravery most exemplary of Camp Bliss.” The winner received a two-handled silver trophy. In the pamphlet, a picture showed last year’s Camp Bliss Girl onstage, one shy hand held in Mrs. Carol the camp director’s congratulatory grip, the other hand hefting her giant silver trophy.

  “Loving cup” was what the pamphlet called the trophy. A perfect name for a big lovable hunk of silver!

  Claire really-really-really wanted that loving cup. She had cleared a space on her bookshelf for it. She had already practiced her shy handshake.

  She would be Camp Bliss Girl, and nobody was getting in her way!

  Grandy parked in the lot, in front of the low white building marked OFFICE.

  “Do you know any get-dry-quick spells?” asked Claire desperately.

  Grandy rapped a finger against her temple. “Dry, dried … Well, I can make dried fruit from fresh, and I can cast a thirty-day drought anywhere in the tristate area, but actually, come to think of it, no. I don’t know any spells for turning a wet person dry. Too bad.”

  As they walked up to the office, however, Claire saw Grandy quickly hop on one foot and mutter something to herself. When Claire looked at her again, Grandy was dry and pressed and perfect, as if she’d just spent a day at the beauty parlor.

  “Hey! Grandy! You said you didn’t—”

  “Well, obviously I know how to attend to myself,” said Grandy with a sniff. “Now, shush, because here comes somebody. Let me do the talking.”

  “Hi, there!” An older girl, dressed in white shorts and carrying a clipboard, came bounding down the steps leading from the office. She shook Grandy’s hand politely. “My name is Pam Carol. I’m a senior counselor here. I’m also Jack and Brenda Carol’s niece. They’re the camp directors. You’ll meet them later, at orientation.” She glanced at the twins with dark eyes that matched her dark bobbed hair. “Are you the Bundkin twins?”

  “My granddaughters,” said Grandy. “I apologize that they’re wet, but they were very hot and insisted on jumping in your lake for a quick dip. Do I need to sign any release forms, or may I leave now?”

  “No, feel free to go, unless you want to stay for Uncle Jack and Aunt Brenda’s tour. Your girls are ours.”

  Ugh! Claire did not like how Pam said “ours.” Nor did she like how Pam handed over their two name tags without bothering to ask which name belonged to which twin.

  “No, thanks! I hate tours. Besides, if you’ve seen one camp, you’ve seen them all.” Grandy smacked a kiss on each twin’s forehead. “Good-bye, dears. One of your parents will pick you up in five weeks, but I sure as heck won’t be making this blasted trip again.” She lowered her voice. “Good luck, and no unsupervised spells!” Then she jumped back into her gleaming car.

  “How did you girls manage to get that car wet, too?” asked Pam as they all watched Grandy speed away.

  Luna was silent, fiddling with her name tag.

  “Um, we gave it a wash, since the lake was right there,” Claire lied.

  The smile dropped off Pam’s face. “Okay, listen up. I didn’t want to be strict in front of your grandma and all, but here’s the drill. First off, no washing of bodies or clothing or cars in Lake Periwinkle, nor is there any kind of jumping, splashing, or fooling around without permission from a senior counselor. Understood?”

  She waited for the twins to nod yes. They nodded yes. It would be an easy rule to follow, since all witches hate-hate-hate still water. Lakes and witches have a bad history.

  “Dandy.” Pam checked her clipboard. “You two are in Cabin Four, Sleepy Hollow,” she said. “That’s my cabin. Cabin Three, Green Gables, belongs to my best friend, Tammy. She’s also a senior counselor. We’ve been going to Camp Bliss since third grade. After Uncle Jack and Aunt Brenda, we pretty much rule this place. Me especially, since I’m their niece.”

  “How old are you?” asked Claire.

  “Fifteen,” said Pam. “Any other questions about my personal life? No? Dandy. Let’s go.”

  Pretty rude, thought Claire. She looked over at Luna, who stared glumly back. Luna was looking especially zestless today. Poor Luna. Claire would have to be a helping hand. Assisting the weaker campers was just the kind of good deed expected of a brave and enterprising Camp Bliss Girl!

  They trailed Pam past the office and down a hill to where the cabins were arranged in a giant horseshoe shape. There were eight cabins in all. They were separated by age, Pam explained, so that eight-year-old “babies” bunked up in Cabin One’s Sunnybrook Farm, all the way to “JCs” or junior counselors in Cabin Eight, Wuthering Heights. A senior counselor was assigned to each cabin, “to keep watch,” Pam explained.

  Which meant Pam would be sleeping in Sleepy Hollow, their cabin.

  “Yuck!” mouthed Claire. Luna nodded, knowing what Claire’s yuck meant. Pam was a rules-and-regulations counselor. She would not be much fun.

  Both inside and out, Sleepy Hollow cabin was very plain. Like Abe Lincoln’s house, Claire thought. It had a big window facing out onto Lake Periwinkle, four wooden bunk beds, a cot (for Pam, Claire guessed), two sinks against the wall, and some scattered bureaus.

  A few girls were sitting on their beds, drinking from juice cartons and chatting, while oth
ers were reclaiming their trunks. A radio was playing. It all seemed very cool.

  Claire bounced a little in her wet sneakers. Camp!

  Pam pointed out the window. “Those lean-tos are the showers and outhouses,” she said. “There’s one behind each cabin, so you’ll have to work out timing. Hi, Tammy! What’s up?”

  Another teenaged girl, with a freckled tan and wearing the same counselor outfit as Pam’s, had bounded into the cabin.

  “No fair,” she said, pointing. “You got the twins!”

  “Big deal,” said Pam. “They already took a dive into Lake Periwinkle. I’ve got my hands full of trouble, probably.”

  Tammy winked at Claire. “Well, I like trouble. I guess you girls will be our water-sports stars on Blue-and-Buff Day!”

  “What’s buff?” asked Claire, always on the alert for a new word.

  “Um, it’s our other camp color besides blue?” Pam answered in the same how-did-you-get-so-dumb? voice that Justin sometimes used. But Claire had known Justin all her life, and she had met Pam only five minutes ago. A how-did-you -get-so-dumb? voice was not a very friendly way to talk to an almost-stranger.

  “Buff is another word for light brown or beige,” said Tammy nicely. “Blue-and-Buff Day is our all-day sports competition. We pick captains, divide into teams, and compete for the title. Last year, the Blue Team won. That’s why a blue flag flies over the camp. But I’m senior captain of the Buff Team, and I want a new flag raised! Check the back of your name tag. Is the sticker on it blue, or buff?”

  Claire checked. “Buff!” she said. “Is there a tug-of-war?”

  “Oh, yes! Plus rope climbing, canoeing, archery, capture the flag, lemon-spoon balancing, volleyball, three-legged races—you name it. Okay, I better go round up my campers. See you later.”

  “Wait! Watch my trick!” Claire said. She wanted to impress Tammy quick before she disappeared back to the Green Gables cabin. But just as Claire dropped into a handstand (her plan was to walk backward on her hands), her foot kicked out into someone’s leg, which, as she jumped right side up, she saw was attached to a skinny red-haired girl.

  “Sorry,” said Claire, although she had the feeling it was really the red-haired girl’s fault.

  The girl just rolled her eyes and brushed past.

  “Show me later,” called Tammy, with a wave good-bye.

  Claire watched Tammy go with a heavy heart. Why did cool Tammy have to be a counselor for Green Gables, while she was stuck inside Sleepy Hollow with yuck, rule-crazy Pam?

  And why did she have to be in the same cabin as a mean red-haired girl who might have pushed against her and might have wrecked her handstand for totally no reason?

  She looked over at Luna, who had found her trunk and was kneeling in front of it, unpacking and refolding and arranging her clothes carefully in the bottom drawers of a bureau. Luna was not going to be much help in this situation. She had not even checked her name tag to see if she was on the Blue or the Buff Team. (Claire checked—luckily, Luna’s sticker was buff, too.)

  If Claire wanted to be Camp Bliss Girl, well, she would have to figure it out on her own.

  3

  The Pillowcase Fund

  LUNA DID NOT KNOW what to do about her top-bunk sickness. As soon as she realised that there were no more bottom bunks left in the Sleepy Hollow cabin, the symptoms—a small cramp in her stomach and a drumming at her temples—started.

  She tried to make the top-bunk sickness go away by thinking of nice things. Such as how peaceful her kitten looked when she slept in her basket. Or the taste of warm summer strawberries. Or the silken brush of beach sand between her toes.

  All she could feel was sick at the prospect of sleeping in the top bunk.

  She confessed her problem to Claire at that night’s Welcome Campers cookout. Claire was no help.

  “Toads and tamales, Luna! It’s not my fault we got top bunks. Everyone called the bottom bunks before we came.”

  “I could sleep in the office. There’s a first-aid room in the back. It has a bed. I saw it.”

  “Sure, go ahead. If you want kids to make fun of you, that is.” Claire sniffed. “They’ll call you names before camp has even officially started. Like Chicken Luna or Loser Luna or Luna Boo-hoo or—”

  “Okay, okay. I get the point.”

  Luna could tell that Claire was distracted by so much else going on around them. So many new faces to see. So many names and rules and songs to learn. The last thing Claire ever would want to do was to sleep in the first-aid room and miss out on everything.

  Zestlessly, Luna carried her paper plate over to a space all by herself and took a bite of her charred hamburger. She chewed and sighed and thought. Five weeks of teetering on the top bunk, and no way out. How long would she last? How would she even last the night?

  After the cookout, there was a sing-along, and the counselors introduced themselves. Then the counselors performed a skit that tried to teach some of Camp Bliss’s rules in a funny way. Then it was time for bed.

  Camp is stupid, Luna thought, as she trudged back to Sleepy Hollow, where she changed into her nightshirt and brushed her teeth. And when it’s not stupid, it’s bad. Nothing but rules and burnt burgers and top bunks and smarty-pants Pam.

  She went to the outhouse and stayed so long that girls yelled and pounded on the door for their turn. Just before she began the dreadful climb up, up, up to her top bunk, Luna thought about using her bottle of Marigold Zest, which she had hidden carefully in her bureau in her plastic soap case. But, no, zest was not what she needed. Zest would not help her get a good night’s sleep on the top bunk.

  Zest was not the same thing as bravery.

  “’Night, guys,” called Pam from her cot. “We’re up at six tomorrow, so I’d advise against talking to your neighbors.” She extinguished the door lantern. The cabin went dark and, after some giggles and whispers, quiet.

  It was a terrifying first night. Every time Luna almost drifted off to sleep, she thought she could feel herself falling. Rolling down a mountaintop or plummeting through black outer space or dropping clean off the side of a—argh! She jolted awake with a start, her pulse pounding as her hands gripped the mattress edges. Safe! For now. Until she closed her eyes and was on the top of the mountain again. Oh, she would never get a good night’s sleep!

  A kick lifted her mattress from beneath.

  “Would you shut up?” The voice was loud and deep, especially for a girl.

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s me, Lakshmi, who sleeps under you. Or I’m trying to, at least. But it’s pretty hard, with you muttering and groaning and sighing like some kind of haunted house.”

  “Sorry.” Luna pictured Lakshmi’s face, her velvet brown eyes staring up angrily at Luna’s mattress.

  “Get to know your cabin mates,” Pam had told them earlier, at the cookout. “You’re going to be spending a lot of time with them.”

  So Luna (who was good at memorizing) had matched up an adjective to the name of every girl who bunked in Sleepy Hollow. First came Know-It-All Pam, the counselor. Then Chunky Penelope. Then there was a red-haired girl, Ella, whom Claire had warned her was a jerk. (Jerk Ella, the red-haired girl.) Next was Nature-Girl Gladriole, or “Glad,” who had waist-length bumpy hair and was a vegetarian. Then Laughing Min Suh, because she had a really loud, happy laugh that made everyone else crack up just to hear it. And Expensive Haley, who wore a ladylike gold watch and gold hoop earrings and had mentioned her vacation house in Bermuda three times already. And then there was Lakshmi, who was gorgeous, with perfect teeth and a silky black ponytail and even a little cleft in her chin. Luna was a big fan of clefts in people’s chins.

  Gorgeous Lakshmi.

  Now Luna revised her list. Gorgeous Lakshmi, Who Hates Me.

  Luna pushed herself closer to the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was scared to be hissed at or kicked again. But just as she was about to fall asleep, she imagined that she was dropping off the side of the mounta
in, and (in spite of herself) she must have let out a very loud moan-mutter.

  Below, Lakshmi gave a fed-up noise and muttered something herself. Something mean, Luna bet.

  The next morning, Luna climbed down from her bunk, too humiliated to look at Lakshmi. She felt too shy even to apologize for keeping her awake. At breakfast, she watched out of the corner of her eye, ready to duck if Lakshmi decided to confront her. Which she probably would. Luna could sense that while Lakshmi was a quiet type, she was not meek. And while she kept to herself, Lakshmi didn’t seem lonely. In fact, Lakshmi didn’t seem to want to be at Camp Bliss at all.

  Luna avoided Lakshmi until after breakfast. As soon as Claire got up from the table, Luna followed to sidle up behind her twin.

  “You know that girl, Lakshmi? She hates me,” she whispered.

  “Lakshmi who?” Claire looked around.

  “Lakshmi the Gorgeous Indian Girl. Don’t look.”

  “Oh.” Since Lakshmi was the only Indian girl at camp, Claire looked straight at her. Lakshmi stared straight back.

  “Hi.” Claire waved.

  “Which one of you kept me up all night with your stomachache?” Lakshmi asked in her loud voice. “If you do it again tonight, I’m asking for a bed switch. No offense, but I need my sleep.” She yawned.

  “My sister has top-bunk sickness. She was scared to be up so high.’”

  “I was dizzy. Not scared,” Luna corrected.

  “Oh.” Lakshmi gave Luna a quick once-over, then turned her attention back to Claire.

  “My sister’s really good at drawing, though,” Claire said. “She drew a picture of our kittens, and it was so cute.”

  “Uh, okay.” Lakshmi shrugged.

  “I’m Claire,” Claire continued. “And if you really want to tell us apart, Luna’s got a teensy little chicken-pox scar under her chin. See?”

  Lakshmi squinted, then saw. “You shouldn’t have scratched,” she said.

  How terrible, Luna thought, to have an ugly chicken-pox chin and be lectured to by a girl with a gorgeous cleft chin! She stared down at her feet and rubbed her finger over her scar and said nothing.