Summer at Meadow Wood

by Amy Rebecca Tan

  “Say that again.”

  Angel paused long enough to tilt his head and take me in from a different angle. Then he said, more slowly this time, “Starting over was a whole lot better than fighting through the mess of trying to keep things the same.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.

  “You want me to write it down for you, too?” he joked.

  I shook my head and opened my eyes. “And things got better?”

  “Things got a lot better,” he confirmed.

  I nudged him with my shoulder. “All right then. Cool. Thanks, Angel.”

  “You’re welcome, Vic. And speaking of writing”—a sly smile crept across his face—“get any other mail lately? Anything with, I don’t know, a decent P.S.?”

  I lifted my hand to my chin. “Hmm, let me think. That letter from my mom, the one from my dad, nothing yet from my best friend, Jamie—oh wait! Yes! There was one short note from some guy with an Eleanor Roosevelt fetish. Apparently, he likes to mail random facts about her to people he hardly knows. Very bizarre.”

  “He sounds awesome to me,” Angel claimed. “Intelligent. And thoughtful. And handsome.”

  “He sounds handsome?”

  “Definitely.”

  I shrugged. “He’s all right.”

  Angel shoved me playfully.

  “Okay, fine. He’s a little bit cute.” I felt heat creep onto my cheeks when I admitted this. Then I got serious and turned toward him, staring him straight in the eyes. “But seriously—what’s the deal with your eyes? They have to be color contacts. Nobody has that kind of green.”

  “I am the chosen one.” He made prayer hands in front of me and bowed in his seat.

  “So unfair.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.

  “What about your eyes? They’re like steamy hot chocolate when you don’t put too much milk in. How cool is that?”

  “I’m guessing not cool at all, if they’re steamy.”

  “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that? Why don’t you put some of that wit down on paper and write me a letter back?”

  “I don’t have your address.”

  “Not a problem.” He pulled an index card out of his apron pocket with his name and address already printed on it. “One letter before next Saturday, okay?”

  “We’ll see.” I pocketed the card.

  “Man, you’re tough,” he said, but he was smiling as he said it.

  We walked back to Earl’s stand at a much slower pace than we left it. He had already started to pack up, just the tent and tables left to fold and stash away in the back of the truck.

  “Want some help?” Angel asked Earl as soon as we arrived.

  “No, thank you. I’ll just take my assistant back.” And he smiled.

  “I better go then,” Angel said. “I’ll see you next Saturday, right?” There was a softness in his gaze.

  “Of course,” I said, grinning. “This is where the doughnuts are.”

  “Right,” he said back. “It’s all about the doughnuts.” He took my hand and squeezed it, then flashed a big smile at me and walked away.

  His eyes sparkled like wet grass when he smiled.

  And apparently, mine were delicious like hot chocolate.

  Who knew?

  Day 30—Sunday

  There was very little eating and a whole lot of wiggling, shouting, and chair tipping at breakfast on Visiting Day morning. Campers were bouncing off the walls with excitement about seeing their families, who would be arriving soon. Everyone at camp had a parent or family member of some sort coming to see them.

  Everyone except me.

  And I was pretty sure Chieko already knew, because she wasn’t acting like her usual morning-crabby self. She had gone out of her way to give me the best mini cereal box on the table (Frosted Flakes), she handed me a napkin before I spilled instead of throwing one at me after, and she announced to the rest of Yarrow that “sharing was caring,” so whatever junk food they got from their families should be spread all around.

  She definitely knew.

  At nine fifteen, right as campers were being herded to the parking lot to greet their families, the loudspeaker switched on with a jolting screech and bellowed out my name, calling me to Brenda’s office for a telephone call.

  I knew it was my mom before the announcement even ended.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Vic,” Brenda said, her lips pressed together in a sympathetic smile. “Take as long as you need.” She left the office quickly, shutting the real door and the screen door behind her.

  I stared at the receiver lying on the desk like a stranded turtle on its back with four legs in the air.

  Tactic One: I could slam the phone and hang up without even saying hello. (Not very Eleanor.)

  Tactic Two: I could pick up the phone and give the most colossal silent treatment of recorded history. (Not very Eleanor.)

  Tactic Three: I could pick up the phone and attack, yelling every insult I could imagine at her for ruining our family. (Not very Eleanor.)

  Tactic Four: I could pick up the phone and listen. And try. I could start working on a new beginning. I could do the thing I think I cannot do. (Very Eleanor.)

  I lowered myself into Brenda’s hard metal chair and picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t too hard, either.

  Meadow Wood cleared out almost entirely at lunch, since parents were allowed to sign out their kids and take them to eat in town. Yarrow’s table was completely empty. Even Chieko had been pulled away, helping Brenda with visitors, answering questions and giving tours.

  I looked at the salad bar crammed full of special offerings, options we never had on regular Sundays, like chickpea pasta and fresh-tomato-and-mozzarella salad, and even a huge serve-yourself bin of strawberry and cream dessert.

  But I didn’t have an appetite for any of it.

  I spotted Earl sitting at the head table, his spine curved over his plate the same way he curved over a row of greens in his garden. I had never bothered him at a mealtime before, but today I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Excuse me,” I said once I reached his side.

  “Good afternoon, Vic.” His plate was half-empty. He took a sip of ice water, then asked, in a quieter voice, “How are you holding up today?”

  “I’m fine. It’s Freddy I’m worried about,” I answered.

  “Of course,” Earl responded, nodding his head slowly. He took another sip of water and pushed his plate away. He wiped his mouth with a napkin he pulled from his lap, then said, even more quietly, “Meet me at the truck in ten minutes.”

  I was there in two.

  I thought Earl would just drop me off at Forest Lake’s entrance and then return in an hour to drive me back to Meadow Wood, but he pulled into a shady parking spot instead and climbed out of the truck with me.

  “I’m guessing it’s rest hour about now,” he said.

  “I think so. I know where to go.” I started walking quickly across the fields to the wooded area where Freddy’s cabin stood. But when I noticed the distance growing between Earl and me, I stopped and pretended to tie my shoe to give him a chance to catch up. Once he was beside me, I started to walk again, this time matching my pace to his.

  We walked silently, the sun shining down on us so we were stepping on our shadows the moment they formed. I pointed ahead once we entered the shade of the woods. “That’s it, right there. That’s Freddy’s.”

  “All right then,” he said, taking it in. “Haven’t been here in a while. Forgot about these bunks. They make our cabins look like the Four Seasons.”

  I laughed. “I’d definitely rather live at Meadow Wood than in one of these,” I admitted.

  “Different camping experience,” he said. He squinted at the cabin, examining the joints where the taut tent fabric met the wooden flooring.

  “Thank you, Earl,” I said.

  “You’re very welcome.” He nodded.
/>   When I opened the door and stepped inside, Freddy was on his cot, flipping through a comic book so ragged and crinkled it had probably been read two hundred times already. He looked up at the sound of the door, and the way he leaped up and threw his arms around me was like a scene from a movie. I hugged him tight and lifted him off the ground.

  Freddy’s counselor, Michael, was smiling ear to ear over our reunion. “See, Freddy? You never know when something amazing is going to happen.”

  Earl introduced himself to Freddy, shook Michael’s hand, and then starting zinging questions at Michael about tent maintenance, insulation, weatherproofing, and a whole bunch of other things I would never in a million years want to know.

  “So, Freddy, what do you wanna do?” I asked.

  “They’re giving away free ice cream at canteen. Michael already got me one, but let’s get more!”

  Michael was my hero. He was more than a counselor to Freddy; he was like a dream older brother. I wouldn’t have minded having one of those myself. But then I thought of Chieko and realized she was kind of like an older sister to me—a cranky, sarcastic, very glass-half-empty but reliable older sister.

  “Then take me to the canteen.” I hadn’t been able to eat lunch, but my appetite was back full-force now.

  “I’ll race you there,” Freddy challenged me.

  “Good luck, squirt,” I threw back at him, and we sprinted out of the cabin together.

  Day 32—Tuesday

  It took only one glance at the letter Chieko handed me at rest hour to know that it was from Carly. Her handwriting was round and fat like overlapping bubbles, and she dotted her i’s with circles so they looked like the beginning of a stick-figure drawing—a head and body with no limbs. I remembered then that Carly was left-handed, so breaking her right collarbone didn’t get in the way of her writing.

  I pulled my legs onto my bed in the crisscross applesauce position we always sat in at bunk meetings back in Violet. Carly and I always sat next to each other, and we always made sure my left knee touched her right one.

  Her stationery was yellow and had pictures of books stamped around the edges like a frame. Carly had written titles on the books: How to Break Your Collarbone, How to Miss Your Camp Friends, How to Fall Off a Horse, How to Not Fall Off a Horse, How to Milk an Injury, How to Be Bored. I laughed out loud and started reading.

  Dearest Vic!

  I miss you so much! That was the worst way to leave camp ever!!! I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. I have the card you guys made me up on my wall, and I look at it constantly. I miss Yarrow! I miss our awful cots and I miss banging into Jordana’s stupid cubby door and I miss canteen. But I don’t miss the bugle!!!

  The good news is that my collarbone is getting better. It barely even hurts anymore. The bad news is I’m not allowed to do much while it heals—no biking, no swimming, no trampoline, and definitely no horseback riding. I’ve been reading a book a day, every day, and I’ve watched every cute animal video on YouTube, and I’m still going insane with boredom!!!

  My doctor said I can’t ride for at least THREE MONTHS. Then my parents said not for SIX MONTHS! So I threw a fit and we reached a compromise: I’m grooming horses at a riding school!!! I’m going every other morning to brush the horses (with my left arm only) and feed them. I already have a favorite. She’s light brown with a dark mane and her name is Anna and I LOVE her. She nuzzles into me the second I walk up to her. I can’t wait to ride her! Oh! And tell Chieko there’s a horse here named Franklin Roosevelt. He was married to Eleanor, right? How random is that?

  I hope camp is fun. I think of you every time I drink a root beer (which is a lot—my mom feels so bad for me she’s been keeping the fridge stocked). Tell the Jaidas that I got my parents to make a donation to PETA. I told them all about the abused orcas and they wrote a check right away. Cool, right?!

  This is for Jordana:

  There was a stick of gum in its wrapper taped to the paper.

  Tell her it’s Sunday brunch: pancakes, eggs, toast, mixed fruit, hash browns, orange juice, and a cappuccino. It should keep her full for half a day, at least. Ha!

  And this is for you:

  There was a wrapped strawberry/apple fruit leather taped to the page.

  It’s the only flat candy I could find. It’s really good, though—I’m addicted to them now.

  Write to me soon because I miss you and I am sooooo bored.

  Love you so much,

  Carly

  As much as I loved getting Angel’s letter, Carly’s was even better. Reading it made me feel like Carly was right there next to me, knee to knee, ready to walk to the dining hall or stand at flag or complain about the cold water at swim.

  And Carly wasn’t afraid after her fall! Or maybe she was afraid, but she wasn’t letting it stop her. She still loved horses and she still wanted to ride, and she found a way to keep horses in her life until she could again. The next time we did R & T, I would tell everyone that that was Carly’s rose.

  I wanted to write back, but I didn’t have any special Carly stationery to write on. I’d have to get to the arts-and-crafts shack this week and design something really awful for her. And in my letter I’d have to tell her that Eleanor Roosevelt’s real name was Anna, just like her new favorite horse, so there were actually horses named after the president and the First Lady in her stable. I couldn’t wait to tell Chieko.

  I couldn’t write to Carly yet, but there was another letter I really needed to work on. I flopped onto my stomach, pulled out a page of plain lined paper, and wrote in my neatest handwriting:

  Dear Angel,

  Day 34—Thursday

  “I’m sorry to inform you,” Brenda announced at flag in her steady camp-director voice, “that there will be no canteen today.”

  All of senior camp started gasping and shouting, “What?” and “That’s not fair,” before Brenda could even finish her explanation.

  I was one of the gaspers. After all the sweaty, backbreaking work I’d done to restock my account, how could we not have canteen?

  Brenda rested one hand on her walkie-talkie while she waited for the huffs and complaints to end. I was about to say, “Of course this happens on our canteen day” when my eyes fell on Jordana.

  Jordana was not gasping.

  Jordana was not complaining.

  Jordana looked nervous. She was squeezing her hands into fists, pumping them open and closed anxiously, and staring frantically at the Asters. For an actress, she was doing a pretty lousy job of looking innocent.

  Chieko’s gaze landed on Jordana right after mine did, and I watched her read Jordana’s face like a page in a book. Chieko lowered her sunglasses—she wore sunglasses to flag whether it was sunny or not—and muttered, “Way to go, Orphan Annie.”

  Jordana scowled.

  Brenda cleared her throat and addressed the crowd. “It is unfair, I agree. It’s unfair that all of you will do without because a few individuals thought it wise to break into canteen last night.” She said this while holding her mouth in a perfect straight line. She sounded like someone who had been a camp director for a gazillion years and had seen everything.

  She was a rock.

  Or she just did an excellent job of impersonating a rock.

  “After these campers broke in and took their fill, they neglected to close the refrigerator and freezer doors. This forced the motors to work much harder to regulate the temperature. The motors burned out and both appliances are dead. I doubt we’ll be able to repair them.”

  The huffs and complaints grew about one hundred decibels louder. Instead of shushing us, Brenda lifted her hands in a go ahead gesture, giving us time to moan and complain.

  I turned to Jordana. She looked like a statue of regret.

  “You killed canteen,” I accused her.

  “No, I didn’t,” she tried.

  I stared at her with my best you have got to be kidding me face.

  She stared back, as if looking at me long and har
d enough could undo what she’d done with her hotshot Aster friends last night.

  “The doors were left open? That was you,” I said.

  “How do you know?” she asked, her confidence draining like a defrosting freezer.

  “You leave your cubby door open all the time!” Jaida A chimed in. “We’re always banging into it to get out of the bathroom. I have actual bruises from walking into that stupid thing.”

  “Oh. Sorry,” she said, sounding especially pathetic as she looked down at Jaida A’s thigh for a lingering bruise.

  “You’re just supposed to break in, take a few snacks, and then run for it. You’re not supposed to break equipment,” I whisper-yelled at her.

  “I didn’t mean to. I was just the lookout. It was Bella and someone else,” Jordana whisper-pleaded back. “I was just following them.”

  “Why? Why are you trying so hard to make them like you?”

  “I’m not trying.” She sucked her teeth at me and looked away angrily. “You don’t understand. Just forget it.”

  “Forget what? Forget to close a door?” I knew it wasn’t a very Eleanor thing to say, but I couldn’t help it.

  “It’s not that bad. We can still get candy bars,” she argued.

  “No we can’t. Canteen isn’t air-conditioned—it’s a sauna in there.” Jaida C joined our hushed conversation. “They have to keep all the chocolate in the fridge or it melts. Which means it’s all ruined.”

  Jordana dropped her eyes to the ground as she let out a quiet, “Oh.”

  Chieko stepped toward our huddle and said, “Please direct your attention to the Aster bunk. Three of those girls look suspiciously peaked and queasy, wouldn’t you agree?”

  We all looked over. Bella looked like she had something sour stuck on her tongue, and Simone looked like she was trying not to throw up. The girl next to them, Gabbi, was fidgeting and looked sweaty.

  “Agreed,” Jaida A and Jaida C both said.

  “Alas, the faces of guilt. None of my campers are missing the irony here, I hope,” Chieko continued. “Our Canteen Nurtures Life flag team is, in fact, the same team who just decimated canteen.”