Summer at Meadow Wood

by Amy Rebecca Tan

  Her gaze was glued to the spectacle in the sky, connecting everything she saw with everything she felt.

  I could do that, too.

  I locked onto one streak of light and followed its climb, tracking it as it soared like a wish. And then I watched it pop and shatter, like a family breaking apart. It split into separate trails of fading light, each one glittering and twisting in its own lonely downward spiral. That one, on the left, was Freddy falling to Forest Lake, and that one next to it was me, spinning down to Meadow Wood. There was my dad, on the right, escaping away, and there was my mom, hissing toward some other place, probably toward Darrin. The light withered and fizzled out until there was nothing left but wispy smoke and air.

  How was that for symbolic?

  Day 19—Wednesday

  When Chieko found me sprawled on my bed trying to balance a pen on my knee at rest hour, she threw an Eleanor Roosevelt book at me.

  “You are the epitome of bored. Feed your mind,” she ordered.

  “I am,” I said, ignoring the book, which landed next to my shoulder. “This is very Zen, what I’m doing.”

  “Really? What do you know about Zen Buddhism? Where did it originate?”

  “Asia,” I answered quickly.

  “Asia is huge. Where in Asia?”

  “Somewhere . . . very chill,” I said.

  Chieko laughed. “Nice try. If you read more, you would know the answer. Read a lot, know a lot.”

  “You sound like a public service announcement,” I said. “And what’s with your Eleanor obsession, by the way?”

  “I’m not obsessed with her. I’m inspired by her. There’s a difference. And trust me, you could do with some Eleanor inspiration.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I eyed her suspiciously.

  A loud thump followed by an “Owww!” came from the bathroom area.

  “Jeez, Jordana! Shut your dumb cubby door,” Jaida A yelled, rubbing her leg where it had just collided with the hard wood.

  Jordana’s cubby door swung in front of the bathroom entrance if she didn’t latch it closed completely, which she never did. Twenty-four hours didn’t pass without at least one of us banging into it.

  “Sorry,” Jordana called, but she didn’t move from the magazine fest she was having on her bed to fix it.

  Jaida A threw her a death stare but then flopped onto Jordana’s bed right next to her and started reading over her shoulder.

  “Anyway.” Chieko turned her attention back to me. “I haven’t known you long, but I can tell something’s off with you. As my shrink loves to say, ‘You’re carrying a weight.’”

  I suddenly felt naked, like Chieko could see right through me to the secret I hadn’t shared with anyone.

  “You go to a shrink?” I steered the subject away.

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Uh . . . me.”

  “You’re young. Give it time. When you’re older, and smarter, you’ll find yourself a shrink. A good one can work wonders. Until then, you have Eleanor.”

  “Well, I doubt Eleanor can help me,” I argued. “Wasn’t she born, like, a hundred years ago?”

  “More—she was born in 1884. And she died in 1962. And in between she led an amazing life. She was the First Lady for longer than any other First Lady in the history of our country. She did all these great things despite life blowing up in her face every time she turned around.”

  “Something blew up in her face?”

  “No, nothing literally blew up, you ding-a-ling.” Chieko shook her head at me, but she looked amused, not annoyed. “I’m saying she had a lot of bad breaks, but she didn’t let them stop her. She kept going. And learning. And helping people. She totally rocked.”

  “What were her bad breaks?”

  “Read the book and find out. I’m not giving an oral report here.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered.

  “Okay, forget it then.” Chieko leaned over me to take her book back.

  “No, okay, okay.” I rolled onto the book quickly so it was trapped under me. “I want it. I’ll read it.”

  Chieko smiled like a proud mom. “Good decision. See? You’re getting smarter already.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said back. I propped up my pillow a bit, opened the book to page one, and started to read about Chieko’s soul sister.

  Day 20—Thursday

  The moment the loudspeaker clicked on during rest hour and echoed its shrill screech across camp, Carly looked at me and said, “Two root beers say you’re going to Chicory.”

  Brenda’s voice rang through the quiet. “Vic Brown, please report to Chicory. Vic to Chicory.”

  “Called it,” Carly said. She was flipping through a book Holly had lent her on jumping techniques and the scoring systems used at horse shows.

  I hadn’t really spent any time with Vera since the fireworks, so I fast-jogged to her cabin.

  And I don’t like to jog.

  Ever.

  When I reached Chicory, Vera was already outside on the bottom step, waiting for me. She didn’t look upset, though. Instead, her eyes were wide and bright and there was an excited energy bouncing off her, as if her insides were made up of those rubber bouncy balls you got from the twenty-five-cent vending machines.

  She sprang up from her step when she saw me and grabbed my arm, tugging me behind her cabin. “I’ve been waiting forever,” she huffed as she pulled me with a strength that was downright alarming, given her size.

  “Vera, I got here in about one minute flat. I ran, for Jake’s sake!”

  “Who’s Jake?”

  “It’s an expression.”

  “I think you mean ‘for goodness’ sake.’”

  “No, I mean Jake’s.” I was not feeling the camp-sister love at the moment. “Why did you have them call me? I thought something was wrong.”

  “It isn’t, but it will be if we don’t do something fast.”

  “That’s not dramatic or anything.” I rolled my eyes at her.

  Vera stopped behind her cabin, crouched down, and stuck her arm through a bunch of tall, grassy weeds. She groped around for a second and then slid her arm back out, pulling a red metal basket with it.

  “Do I even want to know?” It could have been anything from a potato-powered flashlight to a handwritten encyclopedia of insect species.

  “Ta-da!” she said, and slid back the book that was resting on top so I could peer into the basket. The basket was her shower caddy, currently emptied of all shower supplies.

  “He’s my new pet.” Vera beamed.

  The frog trapped in the container let out a quack-like noise that sounded to me like a cry for help.

  “Isn’t he sweet?” Vera cooed.

  I studied the frog and found absolutely nothing that would make me describe it as “sweet.”

  “Sure,” I answered. “Where did you get him?”

  “There.” She pointed toward the lake in front of her cabin. “Where the woods meet the rocks in front of the lake. Which is exactly where one would find a wood frog. They like wooded areas and need access to water.”

  “So it’s a he, and he’s a wood frog?” I reviewed the facts.

  “Yes, Lithobates sylvaticus. And the tympanums are larger than the eyes, so male, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I found him right before lunch.”

  “And I’m guessing you named him already?”

  “His name is Jolly. It’s a synonym for Happy, who we lost on the bus ride, as you know.”

  Of course she named him Jolly.

  I had been hearing so much animal welfare talk from Jaida A that I must have absorbed it like water through amphibian skin, because I heard myself say, “And you are honoring Happy’s memory by keeping him trapped in a box instead of letting him live his normal, natural, outdoors life?”

  Vera’s whole body slumped. The words were out of my mouth before I realized how they might sound to a slightly homesick frog-loving seven-year-old girl
.

  “But he came to me,” Vera said, her eyes fixed on the frog staring up at her from the caddy. “Frogs don’t do that. They don’t come to people. But he came to me.”

  I thought about the kind of camp sister I always said I wanted to be. “He does seem to like you. He keeps looking at you. Tell me how it happened.”

  Vera explained that she was sitting by the rocks in front of her cabin when she heard a quacking sound but couldn’t find a duck or waterbird anywhere. The sound got closer and louder until finally she looked down and saw a frog leaping toward her. It landed with a final plop right on her sneaker and then didn’t move a muscle. So she picked him up, snuck him into Chicory to make him a temporary home, and then put him back outside under the cabin so she wouldn’t get in trouble.

  “Okay, he definitely did come to you. I’m sold on that. What’s the plan now?”

  Vera smiled wide, like a frog, and explained what insects she needed to collect to keep Jolly fed. She also needed a small container, like a jar lid, to use as a water source so he wouldn’t dry out. I told her I’d check out the recycle bins behind the dining hall and snag whatever might work as a shallow pool.

  As for the insects, we started to hunt them right then. We flipped a rock that was sitting half under the cabin and pulled out two worms and some other critter I couldn’t identify. Vera dropped them in and Jolly ate all three of them while we watched. It was pretty gross but also kind of cool.

  While we searched for more, I asked Vera how things were going with her bunkmates.

  “Pretty good. I did the canoe thing. Twice.”

  “And?” I really hoped my idea hadn’t been a disaster.

  “I canoed with Jordyn. She’s from Long Island, New York, and has three pug dogs and lives only with her mom, like me. She likes math and music but doesn’t like to read, and she was scared the whole time we were in the canoe because of sharks.”

  “There aren’t any sharks in the lake.”

  “I know, and I told her that, but she watched the movie Jaws by accident right before camp and it made her terrified beyond reason.”

  “How do you watch a movie by accident?”

  “I don’t know, but now she can’t get it out of her head. She has anxiety about all water activities. She even made her mom call Brenda to excuse her from water-skiing. Look!” Vera held up her hand, another slimy worm dangling from her fingers. “Dessert for Jolly!”

  “So you made a friend?” I asked. “A good friend?”

  “I did. Jordyn said every time we have canoe she wants to go with me because I told her facts about marine life that helped calm her down.”

  “That’s great, Vera.” I sighed in relief. “I’m really happy for you.”

  “And I’m really happy for Jolly, because that’s a slug!” She pointed at the cabin wall near me. “Grab it.”

  “No thanks.” I scooted away so she could peel it off the wall herself and feed her new pet. It left a glossy stain of goop on the wall in the shape of a lima bean.

  “So I can keep him?” Vera asked me then.

  “How about you keep him for a few days and then give him the chance to return to his other life, if he wants to?”

  Vera reached into her caddy and stroked Jolly’s brown head.

  “I think . . .” And she paused for just a second before saying, “I think that’s the ethically right thing to do.” She petted Jolly one last time, slid the book in place like a roof on his little house, and pushed the basket back into the shade under the cabin.

  I hugged Vera goodbye and promised I would hunt for more bugs after dinner.

  As she squeezed the middle of me with her strong skinny arms, she said right into my belly, “You’re the best camp sister ever.”

  I let those jolly words play over and over in my head as I walked back to Yarrow.

  Day 21—Friday

  It was second period and I had volunteered to untangle a mess of life vests by the kayak hut when I saw Earl zip by in his golf cart at a speed I didn’t know it was capable of. He didn’t even bother to steer around the soccer field. He just hit his horn twice as a warning to the Goldenrod girls scrimmaging there and plowed through. Even the swim counselors on the dock stopped what they were doing, hands lifted to shade their eyes, and watched Earl zoom by.

  Jaida A and Jaida C said, “Something’s wrong,” at the same time, but neither of them added jinx or laughed.

  Jordana was already far out on the water in her kayak, drifting in a small patch of sun, her eyes closed, her paddle resting across her lap.

  “What could be wrong?” I asked, hustling over to the Jaidas, who were ankle deep in the lake.

  We all watched Earl and his cart get smaller as he whizzed off the field toward senior camp and then entered the narrow trail through the woods that led to one place only: the riding ring.

  My stomach folded over itself as I watched the wheels kick up dirt and disappear into the thicket of leafy woods. Carly had horseback riding second period today. The humid air suddenly shrink-wrapped itself around me and I couldn’t breathe. The Jaidas felt it, too, because without any of us saying a word, we dropped everything and ran.

  I reached the trail first and flew down it so fast the mosquitoes had no chance of getting a piece of me. I burst out of the woods to find the cart parked outside the fence and Earl and Holly inside it, bent over someone on the ground.

  I saw Eliza with a huddle of young girls at the other end of the ring. The girls were whispering and watching while Eliza held tightly to the reins of a brown horse. The horse couldn’t have looked more bored if it tried.

  The only sound was Earl’s walkie-talkie spitting static, and then Brenda’s voice: “Did you arrive? Over. Do you need backup? Over.”

  I knew from the process of elimination.

  From the buckle and twist in my gut.

  From the dry swell of my tongue that wouldn’t let me swallow.

  I knew the way you just know.

  It was Carly.

  When Earl and Holly eased her up to a sitting position, a yelp of pain soared through the quiet like an archer’s arrow. It pierced me in the chest and made me want to run toward my friend and away from her at the same time.

  From everything Chieko had told me about Eleanor Roosevelt, I was sure that Eleanor would choose toward.

  It occurred to me right then that Vera would, too.

  I hopped the fence and ran to Carly. I reached her just as she was finding her way to her feet, Earl under her left shoulder and Holly lifting her by the waist.

  “It’s her shoulder,” Holly rushed to say before I touched Carly. “Something’s wrong with her right shoulder.”

  Carly’s face looked like all the color had been drained out of it, and a line of sweat painted her upper lip. Her helmet was still on but was twisted, squishing loose hairs onto her damp forehead and cheek in that way I knew she hated.

  “Take my radio,” Earl instructed me, “and tell Brenda to meet me at the lot. Tell her she’s taking Carly to the hospital.”

  I fumbled to get the walkie-talkie off his belt, and I fumbled to press and release the right buttons to get my message through.

  Holly settled Carly into the golf cart and supported her against the jolt of Earl starting the engine. Carly’s eyes were closed, her left arm clutching her right tightly against her stomach. Streaks of tears lined her cheeks. Earl drove slowly at first, gliding carefully over the roots and bumps on the wood trail, and then floored it once he hit open flat field. I chased after the cart but couldn’t keep up and lost sight of them as they veered around cabins through the camp entranceway to the parking lot.

  The Jaidas caught up with me after another minute, and Jaida C put her arm around me as we walked back to the beachfront. “She’ll be okay.”

  “What happened?” I still didn’t know.

  “Eliza said she was jumping and fell off the horse,” Jaida A answered.

  “Or she was thrown,” Jaida C added. “Eliza wasn’t sure
because she didn’t see it happen. She just heard her hit the ground.”

  I shuddered as I pictured it. “Was she riding Rowdy?”

  “Yeah,” Jaida A said. “Her favorite.”

  “Not anymore, I bet,” Jaida C said.

  From a distance, we saw Earl return from the parking lot. He parked his cart in its usual spot in front of the main office and went inside. We waited, staring hopefully at the building as if it would answer our questions and calm our fears. And because we were all lost in our own thoughts about what had just happened, we jumped completely out of our skin when the bugle suddenly rang out, screeching its end-of-activity song to let us know it was time to return to our cabins and get ready for third period.

  “Are they ever going to fix that junky thing?” Jaida A grumbled, grabbing two paddles from the sandy beach and walking them over to the storage rack.

  “In your dreams,” Jaida C answered, lifting the pile of still-tangled life vests.

  Jordana pulled her kayak out of the water and flipped it over to drain. “How come you guys never came out? The water was so flat and perfect just now.”

  Jaida C helped Jordana carry her kayak to the hut and started to catch her up.

  I picked up a small canoe paddle half-buried in the sand and slammed the end into the ground. I wedged it to the side and flicked a softball-sized chunk of damp sand toward the lake. The sand chunk hit the water with a hollow plunk and left a big divot on the beach, deep enough to twist an ankle.

  I started to trudge back to Yarrow but then turned around, grabbed a handful of sand, and tapped it back into the hole, smoothing it out with my foot. I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

  Day 21—Friday

  “Mail delivery,” Chieko called out as the screen door slammed behind her. It was rest hour and we still hadn’t heard anything about Carly.

  “A letter for Jaida A, two for Vic, and a flatty for Jordana. Do tell what’s inside that baby.” Chieko tossed each item on the correct bed and then sat next to Jordana to see what she’d gotten.

  We weren’t allowed to receive packages at Meadow Wood. The camp would only accept “flat” mail, which meant paper in envelopes. The envelopes could be large, like Jordana’s was today, but they still had to be flat. That way, no one could send food or toys or any equipment we weren’t allowed to have.