Breakout!

by Stacy Davidowitz

  Play Dough felt a pang of guilt. He wanted to comfort her like how he comforted his little sister—with a giant bear hug—but he and Jamie didn’t have that kind of relationship.

  Luckily, Missi hugged Jamie so he didn’t have to. “It’s OK, Jamie, you can tell the Captain what happened.”

  Jamie sniffled into Missi’s shoulder. “Jenny’s over there, hiding behind that tree. And she told us it was—”

  “I DIDN’T TELL YOU ANYTHING!” Jenny stepped out to scream.

  “Jenny, get over here,” the Captain said irritably. Jenny sulked over. “Go on, Jamie.”

  “She wrote it,” Missi clarified. “Jenny wrote that the Hatchet was in your golf cart, so we went to find it. And then Play Dough rushed to find it, too, and he won.”

  “Well, to be clear, nobody won anything,” the Captain said. “Points will be deducted. Penalties will be implemented.” Play Dough groaned. Jamie and Missi whimpered. Jenny was still. “Jenny, did you take Eddie’s Hatchet?”

  “Play Dough wasn’t supposed to go after it. Just Jamie and Missi.”

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “I wrote it in my diary. Jamie and Missi snooped!”

  “Again, not the question.”

  Jenny pursed her lips together and committed to silence and zero eye contact.

  Play Dough’s mind drowned with questions. What had Jenny done? Had she just used him for another one of her plans? Had she ever intended to find the Hatchet with him? Or was she just trying to make him look like the world’s biggest hack?

  Jumping to Conclusions

  Jenny sat cross-legged on the trambopoline—the trampoline in the lake—looking up at the stars. One shot by in the corner of her eye, and she wondered if it was a sign that whatever was left of her hopes and dreams was about to explode and die.

  She heard a tap, tap, tap and bounced to her knees, hoping to see Play Dough kayaking to meet her, but it was just TJ and the Captain coming through the dock’s speakers.

  Captain: Blue and White teams, the third day of Color War is complete! Your officers are busy preparing for SING, so TJ and I will get straight to the scores.

  TJ: I’m about to reeeee-lay some important deets. As you know, Blue earned the fourth Sealed Envelope today for the Apache Reeeee-lay!

  Captain: Very nice.

  TJ: It’s all about the wordplay.

  Captain: At the moment, White and Blue have two envelopes each.

  TJ: And the sports ’n’ spirit points are super-close, too, with a score of 478 and 492—Blue in the leaaaaaaad!

  The Hills erupted with Blue team cheers. Jenny leapt to her feet and did a series of celebratory midair splits. Ever since her Hatchet Plan had gone awry, she’d been worried her team would suffer big-time. But no siree! They hadn’t suffered at all! B-B-L, B-L-U-E, Blue team is consequence-free!

  Captain: Those numbers are wrong.

  TJ: I guess there’s a reason I run a camp and not a school. Apologies, my math is as rusty as a—

  Captain [whispering]: No, it’s the Hatchet incident. With . . .

  TJ [whispering]: Ohhh! Jenny Nolan. Right. Eesh. How do I break—?

  Captain: The Hatchet Hunt is on a two-day freeze for the Blue team only. No more clues until then. We’ve recalculated the scores, taking both teams’ penalties into account. 458 and 442—White is in the lead.

  TJ: Totally tubular.

  Jenny plopped down on her butt, totally depressed. She could just imagine the chaos in Faith Hill Cabin. Jamie, Missi, and Slimey were probably popping the sparkling cider that Jamie’s mom had brought on Visiting Day. Melman was probably slamming her soccer ball against her creepy Pelé poster. Sophie was probably casting some robot-vampire spell to turn Jenny into a frog.

  Jenny counted her lucky stars she wasn’t there. Somehow, her excuse to Scottie—“I have to report to the HC to write apology letters, byeeeee!”—had worked. It wasn’t a total lie. She did have to report to the HC to write apology letters. Just not tonight. Tomorrow night. Jenny figured that when tomorrow night rolled around, she would then explain to Scottie that her apology letters hadn’t been apologetic enough, and she was being forced to endure Punishment Night #2.

  Jenny’s pink sports watch randomly beeped: 10:18. She looked toward the lonely dock and sighed. Play Dough wasn’t coming. She’d slipped him a message at dinner, but it was on a paper plate, so maybe he’d just scooped egg salad on top of it and hadn’t noticed. Or he was currently so deep in SING planning with his fellow officers, he couldn’t sneak off. Or, more likely, he just didn’t care what she had to say. She’d done enough damage to this war.

  Jenny laid back down and closed her eyes. She listened to the lapping water, the trills of crickets, and the kayak bobbing against the side of the trambopoline. It was horrifically peaceful. Jenny missed cheering. She missed having her friends by her side. She missed dishing free advice. Now she didn’t have a voice worth hearing. No friends to cuddle-spoon with. No fans wanting to listen to her at all. She was ready to send her mom the text she’d composed: Pick me up from camp now pls. I have no future. Transfer all the money I have in my Homecoming Fund and Pageant Fund and Relationship Therapy Fund into a charity for friendless losers who try too hard to be something they’re not.

  “Uhhh, Jenny?”

  Jenny involuntarily shrieked. Then she bit her fingers to stop herself from involuntarily shrieking more. “Play Dough?” She scrambled onto her hands and knees and peered over the side of the trambopoline closest to the dock.

  “I’m on the other side,” Play Dough croaked. She crawled to the other side, where he stood trembling on a surf bike.

  Jenny smiled. “You came!”

  “Can you tie it up?” Play Dough asked. “This is hard on my glutes.”

  “Sure.” Jenny tied the surf bike to the kayak. “All set.”

  Play Dough leapt toward the trambopoline. He belly flopped halfway on, kicked his legs hard for momentum, and clawed at the jumping pad in front of him. Jenny used all of her strength to pull him to safety. She grunted between yanks: “You know. There’s. A. Ladder. Right?”

  “I forgot.” His whole body now on board, Play Dough flipped onto his back, wheezing. “Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy.”

  Jenny just stared at him, her hands on her hips. She wanted him to stop hyperventilating and to give her an I forgive you bear hug. But, understandably, a hug wasn’t in the cards. At least not until Jenny explained herself.

  “Why’d you do it?” Play Dough sat up, as cross-legged as his chubby legs would cross. “Why’d you try to get me in trouble? Why’d you try to make me look like an idiot? Are you trying to make the Blue team lose?!”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Jenny said. She took a quick breath, about to launch into the apologetic/inspirational/motivational speech she’d prepared.

  “Why’d. You. Do. It?” Play Dough cut in, slamming his fists on the jumping pad like an ill-tempered toddler.

  Jenny wobbled. She looked at Play Dough’s face, which was wrinkled in stress, and she knew she’d have to save her elaborate speech for another time. “The truth is, I had no idea where the Hatchet was. I’m clueless when it comes to clues. But I knew that if I got the White team disqualified, then we’d have more time to find the Hatchet.”

  “Uhhh.”

  “I assumed Jamie and Missi would snoop in my diary, so I wrote down that the Hatchet was hidden in the Captain’s golf cart. Then I stole the groundskeeper’s Hatchet, decorated it, and hid it under the golf cart seat cushion. Missi and Jamie were supposed to find it and present it to the Captain, who’d be like ‘Um, you trespassed. Also this is a fake. Also, you’re disqualified.’”

  Play Dough shook his head, confused. “So where did I fit into this brilliant plan of yours? What was the point of us even being there?”

  “Well, Jamie and Missi would’ve totally ratted me out. I needed you to think that I had nothing to do with the Fake Hatchet, so if they tried to blame me, you’d defend me to th
e Captain.”

  “So, basically, you lied to my face.”

  Yup, Jenny thought guiltily. She hadn’t really thought about how mean her plan was to Play Dough when she was planning it. Not to mention, it was totally flawed. “It was dumb, Play Dough. I guess I just wanted to see it all play out, but we should have stayed clear of Hill Hall. That would have made a better alibi.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you used me but you wish you’d used me differently, so you wouldn’t be in trouble?” Play Dough asked.

  “Kind of.” Jenny picked at the jumping pad, thinking of Willamena and how effortless it was for her to stay on top. But for Jenny, it seemed like the more she tried to be the Best, the worse she became.

  “You know that doesn’t make it any better, right?”

  Jenny felt herself wanting to open up. Play Dough had that effect on her. “Honestly, I think I convinced myself I was using you for our benefit. I would give us more time to find the Hatchet. But now I see it both ways.” She laughed apologetically, hoping Play Dough would join her, and all their tenseness would evaporate into the starry night.

  But Play Dough didn’t laugh. He got up and jump-stomped around the edge of the jumping pad. “I thought you’d changed.”

  Jenny stumbled, embarrassed. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have gotten you involved.”

  “NO DUH!” he screamed.

  Jenny’s open heart clamped shut. “But in my defense, you weren’t supposed to charge the golf cart and steal the Hatchet from Missi and Jamie. I literally told you to stop.”

  “I thought they were being mean to you! I was trying to stand up for you!”

  “That’s exactly why I thought my plan would work.”

  “There was no plan.”

  “Um, yes, we talked about it.”

  “No, YOU talked about it.” Play Dough stopped stomping and straight-up jumped. “You tricked me into thinking you were looking out for your best friends.” He jumped more angrily. “You tricked me into thinking you knew where the Hatchet was.” He jumped even more angrily. “I ditched my friends for you!”

  Jenny kept both hands flexed to her sides for balance, but it wasn’t working so well. She wobbled in every direction. “I’m seriously sorry! The scheme was mean!”

  “You’re right. Dover and Smelly were right. All you do is think of yourself.” Play Dough jumped again. Jenny toppled forward. “Now we’ll never find the Hatchet.” He jumped higher. Jenny bounced and crashed to the pad. “I’ll never be a good Lieutenant!” He jumped super-high. “I’LL FAIL EVERYONE!”

  Jenny went flying. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. The wind whipped. Her stomach flipped. The stars blurred together into bedazzled streaks. She hoped Play Dough would catch her, but as she contorted in the air, she saw him staring helplessly. His mouth was hanging so open, a whole loaf of lake bread could’ve fit inside. Please don’t let me land in the scary, black water, Jenny prayed to the Color War Gods. Please, no!

  And then they answered her prayers. Jenny bounced off the edge of the trambopoline, bounced again onto another part of the edge, and right before her toes hit the lake, Play Dough grabbed her by the waist. Jenny gripped the protective cushioning over the springs, totally traumatized. As Play Dough tugged her to the middle of the jumping pad, Jenny accidentally un-Velcroed the cushioning.

  “Are you OK?!” Play Dough asked, his voice cracking with guilt.

  And that’s when Jenny saw it, tucked inside the exposed springs. No way. NO. WAY. She tried to string a sentence together, but her tongue was bloated with shock.

  “Uhhh, Jenny?”

  She crawled toward it and pointed. “L-l-look.” She was afraid her near-lake experience was making her see stuff that wasn’t there. “Do you see what I see?”

  Play Dough butt-shuffled over to the springs. His whole body tensed up like how it did when bees buzzed around him. “Nah, it can’t be. Can it?”

  Trembling, Jenny reached toward a blue-and-white-striped rag stuffed between two of the springs. She wriggled it free. Underneath was the Hatchet.

  She retreated in disbelief. Play Dough guffawed. Jenny guffawed louder. Play Dough bounced to standing. Jenny bounced to standing. They looked at each other and then back at the prized Hatchet wedged safely in the springs and screamed. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  “We found it, uh! We found it, uh!” Play Dough chanted, taking the rag from Jenny and whipping it in the air.

  “WE FOUND IT, UH, WE FOUND IT!” they chanted together.

  They tried to make up something to sing in unison, but it turned into a hilarious, messy overlap of words: “THE HATCHET . . . IS . . . RATCHET . . . BUT WE CATCHED IT, UH UH UH!”

  “We have to be quieter!” Jenny squealed, overwhelmed with giggles.

  “Dude-a-cris!” Play Dough said. “I can’t!”

  “We’re not even allowed to find the Hatchet for two more days!”

  “So let’s put the rag back over it and get it later,” Play Dough suggested. “Deal?”

  “Deal!” Jenny cried. Literally, she was so overwhelmed with joy, the tears were zigzagging down her face.

  Play Dough began to twirl Jenny. She should have been able to move gracefully—she had seventeen dance trophies at home—but she was stumbling as if she’d just done a dozen dizzy Izzys. Finally, when they were too light-headed and exhausted to bounce around anymore, they collapsed onto the jumping pad and breathed heavy, happy breaths. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jenny said, really hoping that this time the apology would stick.

  “I believe you—what you said,” he told her. “And I believe in you, too.”

  Something came over Jenny. Her stomach was vibrating with newly birthed butterflies. Her cheeks were buzzing. Her toes were curling. The stars above were strobing. The crickets were scoring a Taylor Swift symphony. And then, before she could judge herself, her lips locked onto Play Dough’s lips.

  Rope Burn

  “ROPE BURN TIIIIIIIIIME!” TJ bellowed into a megaphone.

  At the eighth hole of the Rolling Hills golf course, Play Dough stood with the Blue officers in front of their Rope Burn station: a thick rope strung between two ten-foot-tall metal poles. Below the rope was where the fire would be built.

  Play Dough was getting goose bumps just being so close to where the Rope Burn tradition launched over fifty years ago. Gramps Garfink was Color War General that first summer and loved to tell the story of how he’d started his team’s fire by farting into a lighter. Great-Uncle Garfink loved to tell his story about how the fire burned off his hair and he’d been bald ever since. Aunt Denise’s Rope Burn experience was absolutely epic-sauce. It had downpoured for three days straight, so all of the logs were soaked and not catching fire. She’d raced to the HC for a nine-volt battery and a paper clip and then forged a tinder nest from all the dried-up plants in the abandoned Nature Shack. Four hours, twenty-one minutes, and eight seconds later, their rope broke . . . and they won. And to cap it all off, in 1985, as General, Pops had set the record for the fastest burn: thirty-one minutes flat!

  So even though Play Dough was no Eagle Scout like Dover and no athlete like Smelly, he was a natural when it came to nurturing a spark. He had told General Power his history, hoping the General would promote him from Log Fetcher to Fire Builder, but he’d just patted Play Dough on the back like Play Dough was out of his scorched mind. Then he’d disregarded the Officer’s Only rule and invited Dover to advise with the Highgate Lieutenants. Meanwhile on White, Steinberg had slipped Totle some magical equation that Wiener kept bragging was the “Pythagorean Theorem of Rope Burning.” No Blue officer would admit to feeling rattled, but they’d all seen Steinberg explode stuff enough times to know he wasn’t just running his mouth.

  But none of this bothered Play Dough as much as he thought it would. He was still going to be a part of Rope Burn just like his Pop and Aunt Denise and Great-Uncle Garfink and Gramps. He’d still be able to prove his worth tomorrow when he and Jenny revealed the Hatchet
. Oh, and the biggest reason he was feeling unbothered was that he was In Love. Big time Love. The kind of Love that fills you up more than a crème brûlée. A Love so all-consuming, it was hard for Play Dough to focus on anything other than the taste of Jenny’s cherry ChapSticked lips. So, sure, Rope Burn was insanely thrilling, but what bigger fire was there than the one burning in his heart?

  Play Dough cracked a few twigs from the starter woodpile at his feet and replayed the kiss in his head for the thousandth time. They’d found the Hatchet and jumped for joy. Play Dough had collapsed, and Jenny had collapsed next to him, her smooth hairless arm touching his smooth hairless arm. Then, before his heart had a chance to settle down, Jenny’s face had crept over his face. He’d opened his mouth to ask her about it, but then his lips had gotten the answer. For six. Whole. Seconds. His response? His whole body had melted like a sizzling hunk of butter on a frying pan. Being only thirteen, Play Dough knew he’d only had a couple of monumental moments—his bar mitzvah and the first time he’d tasted cake—but this was by far the MOST monumental. It was something he’d tell their grandkids about.

  TJ stepped in front of the eighth-hole flag, which was staked between the two Rope Burn stations. “Welcome, Blue and White. There’s no more perfect way to polish off Day Four of Color War than with the annual Rope Burn competition! I challenge you to find the rhyme scheme in that sentence. Please take a seat.” Some of the girls had the forward thinking to bring towels and lawn chairs, but mostly everyone just plopped on their butts on the freshly sprinklered grass. “Now RISE TO YOUR FEET and give it up for your Color War officers. They’re about to birth a KILLER FIIIIIIRE!”

  Both teams leapt to their feet and began screaming for their Generals and Lieutenants. Play Dough listened for his name—surely Jenny, wherever she was, was cheering for him. But he only heard chants for Dover and Melman. The orange sky was darkening, so he squinted at the rows of Blue to spot her.

  After last night’s fit of passion, Play Dough had snuck off to the Arts & Crafts shack and ironed HATCHET HERO onto a Blue T-shirt that he’d snatched from the Shirt Donation Box in the tie-dye nook. The letters had turned out a little crooked, and there were no more iron-on Cs or Hs, so he’d Sharpied those letters in. But still, he hoped she liked it when he presented it to her tomorrow.