Willows vs. Wolverines Read online

  “All right, ladies,” Val calls. “Settle down. Everyone brush your teeth. We’re starting Cabin Chat in five minutes, and I don’t want to smell any stinky breath.”

  It’s pretty chaotic trying to share two sinks with nine other people, but we manage, and pretty soon we’re all in our sleeping bags. Roo, Lexi, and Ava have matching purple ones with silver stars, and Summer’s is bright pink with ruffles around the edges, like her outfit today. (Her bathing suit and nightgown are pink with ruffles, too, and I wonder if she owns any clothes in other colors.) Hannah refuses to get into her bed until Summer checks for toads and giant dead fish; apparently our discussion earlier made quite an impression on her.

  “There’s no way the Wolverines have pranked us already,” Summer says. “It’s much too early.” But she does a pretty thorough check anyway, and I catch her feeling around the bottom of her own sleeping bag after she’s done with Hannah’s.

  Val switches off the overhead lights, and like the first night of camp every year, I’m surprised by how ridiculously dark it gets. There’s a streetlight right outside the window of the bedroom I share with my sister, Carolina, and it’s so bright that we’ve never needed a night-light. I’m not afraid of the dark or anything, but I still tuck my flashlight into my sleeping bag, and it makes me feel safer. I kind of wish I had my stuffed owl from home, but I push that thought away. I’ve never been homesick at camp before, and I’m not going to start now.

  “Guys, this was an awesome first day,” Val says, and the sound of her voice makes me feel calmer. “I think we’re going to have such a fun four weeks together. For our first Cabin Chat, I thought we could each say a goal we have for this summer. Maybe you want to try an activity you’ve never done before, or improve a skill, or make friends with someone new, or overcome a fear. Anything, really.”

  “Ugh, can’t we say something more fun?” Roo says, and I wonder if she’d be brave enough to challenge Val like this if the lights were on. “Like, which actor would play us in the movie of our life?”

  “Taylor Swift!” Lexi immediately says.

  “Taylor Swift isn’t really an actor,” says Ava.

  “Yes she is! She’s been in a bunch of movies.”

  “She’s, like, twice your age,” says Roo. “Can you imagine Taylor Swift playing you at your bat mitzvah? It would be ridiculous.”

  Lexi giggles. “It would be amazing, is what it would be.”

  “I thought we were going to talk about the prank war,” says Petra.

  “Let’s say our goals, and then we can talk about that, I promise,” Val says. “I’ll go first. My goal for the next four weeks is to learn about each and every one of you extraordinary young women and to help make this the most fantastic summer of your lives.”

  “OMG, soooo cheesy,” Petra says, and a few people giggle.

  I feel bad for Val—I think what she said was nice. It is cheesy, but I still really want her to learn about me. For a second I think she might reprimand Petra and tell her not to cut other people down, but instead she says, “That’s me: Cheeseball McCheddar!” She sounds totally cheerful about it, and everyone laughs. I make a secret goal to be more like her—cool and in control and totally unconcerned with what everyone else thinks.

  “Who wants to go next?” Val asks.

  “I’ll go,” Roo says. “My goal is to be a Color Wars captain this year.”

  Lexi sighs in a frustrated way. “Roo, I told you yesterday at dance class that I want to be a Color Wars captain!”

  “I’m not saying that can’t be your goal. I’m just saying it’s mine.” I don’t even know what Color Wars is, but if captains are involved, it’s probably something like Sweetwater Olympics.

  “There are only twelve captains all together, and probably half will be boys,” Lexi says. “So we’re probably not both going to be able to do it, like, statistically. Why do you want to be a captain? You don’t care about Color Wars.”

  “I’d probably care about it more if I were a captain,” says Roo.

  “No offense, you guys, but I’d be the best Color Wars captain,” says Summer. “I have excellent leadership skills. I’m student council vice president, and I’m the captain of my debate team, and I volunteer at my church, and—”

  “God, Summer, this isn’t a campaign speech,” says Roo. “And who cares about any of that stuff? It only matters if you’re a good leader at camp.”

  I wonder if maybe I could be one of the captains; if everything goes as planned with the prank war, everyone will see what an amazing leader I can be. But I don’t say anything about it out loud. It’s way too early, and I don’t want Roo and Lexi and Summer to see me as competition.

  “Okay, let’s talk about some goals other than Color Wars,” Val says. “Things we can achieve by ourselves. Ava? Do you have a goal?”

  “I want to stay up on water skis all the way around the lake,” Ava says. “I almost did it last year, but then Chloe Sapperstein started puking over the side of the boat, and I got distracted because it was bright green from the Jell-O she had at lunch.” All the girls squeal and gag, and suddenly it seems like everyone’s on the same side again.

  Petra says her goal is to convince the woman who runs the stables to let her go on an early-morning solo ride. She wants to gallop a horse named George Harrison through a particular field as the sun is coming up so she can be like the heroine of a book she loves. BaileyAndHope talk about some soccer technique they want to improve, but it’s so technical and specific that I don’t understand most of the words. In a tiny voice, Hannah tells us that she wants to have more fun at camp this year than she did last year, which is kind of general, but I guess it makes sense for her. Mei says her goal is to get to the top of the hardest climbing wall in less than five minutes, her personal best from last year.

  And then it’s my turn. “My goal is to kick the Wolverines’ butts in the prank war,” I say. “And I know exactly how to do it.”

  “I still think the underwear thing would be really funny,” Lexi says. “We could—”

  Roo cuts her off. “Lex, let her talk. Her brother has way more experience than us, and we need something really professional.” She’s giving me an opening to impress her, and I am so ready to take it.

  I’m a little nervous at first as I explain the logistics of the spaghetti prank—one “Tomás and I came up with together”—but as I talk, I start to calm down and enjoy it. After being ignored at dinner and during the treasure hunt, having everyone’s rapt attention is pretty much the best. This is what camp has always been like. It’s what camp is supposed to be like.

  When I’m done talking, nobody says anything at first, and for a minute I wonder if I misread the situation—maybe the Willows think the prank is stupid, and they’re trying to find a polite way to tell me. But then Roo says, “Wow, that’s actually much better than what I was going to say. And it’s way better than Lexi’s underwear thing. Your brother is really funny.”

  “So funny,” echoes Lexi. She doesn’t seem offended that Roo insulted her.

  “If you guys think of anything that would make it better, let me know,” I say, but I’m sure nobody will. This prank is perfect the way it is.

  “Izzy Cervantes,” Val says slowly, giving weight to every syllable of my name, like each one is incredibly important. “I’ve been the Willows’ counselor for three years now, and that is the most hilarious prank idea I’ve ever heard. The Wolverines are going to flip out.”

  “They totally are,” says Summer, and Mei whispers, “Nice going.”

  There’s a high, manic giggle from the corner of the cabin, and it takes me a minute to realize it’s Hannah. “I can’t wait to see their faces,” she says, and then everyone cracks up, because she actually sounds kind of evil.

  “What do we think, ladies?” Val asks when the noise dies down. “Does Izzy’s prank get the Willow stamp of approval?”

  There’s a chorus of enthusiastic yeses, and since no one can see me in the dark, I l
et a goofy smile break over my face and do a fist-pump. This afternoon, these girls thought I was completely useless. And now, thanks to my pranking genius (and a few harmless lies, and Mackenzie’s help), I’m already in charge of something.

  It has only taken me eight hours to go from dead weight to rock star.

  Dear Mom, Dad, Lina, Tomas, and Abuela,

  I got to camp okay. Mackenzie and I are in different cabins, which is TOTALLY UNFAIR, but everyone says the cabin assignments are final and we can’t switch. UGH. My counselor’s name is Valerie, and she’s really cool, and some of the girls seem pretty nice. We had our swim test and I passed, obviously. I’m bunking with this girl Mei, and I got the top bunk. Lina and Tomas, if you send me drawings, I’ll hang them right over my bed so I can see them first thing when I wake up.

  Mom and Dad, I know this is weird, but you know that noise-activated dancing Santa toy Tomas hates? Can you send it to me as quick as you can? We need it for a project, and it’s kind of urgent. Maybe you could overnight it?

  Abuela, you know how I asked you to sneak candy into my care packages? (Sorry, Mom, don’t get mad.) Anyway, don’t bother. The camp director opens everyone’s packages in the office and takes the food before it gets to us. She says having food in the cabins attracts mice, which is ridiculous, because there’s NO WAY we’d let it sit around long enough for any mice to get it. I think she’s eating it all herself.

  Love,

  Izzy

  CHAPTER 5

  I wake up in the morning to the sound of a bugle fanfare. For a second I think there’s an actual guy with a bugle outside—what is this, the army? But then the fanfare finishes and starts over from the beginning, and I realize it’s the alarm on Val’s phone.

  “Up and at ’em, ladies,” she calls in her croaky early-morning voice. “Flag raising is in fifteen minutes.” She rolls out of her bunk and stumbles toward the bathroom, her T-shirt all askew and her hair sticking up in a million different directions.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re out in the early-morning sunshine, making our way toward the group of campers around the flagpole. As Mei and I walk together across the dew-sparkly grass and listen to Lexi and Roo argue about whether Lexi was snoring, I think, Yeah, I could get used to this. For some reason, sleeping somewhere makes that place feel more like yours. I hope Mackenzie’s settling in a little bit too. I spot her across the circle, and she looks pretty tired, but at least she returns my smile and wave.

  All two hundred of us gather in a giant circle and watch as Stuart (a.k.a. Public Enemy Number One) raises the flag. When he’s finished, he bows with a huge flourish, like he’s done something superimpressive, and I roll my eyes. I almost feel bad for the Wolverines, who have to deal with him all the time. But only almost, because you’re not supposed to feel sympathy for the enemy.

  There’s no wind today, so the flag hangs limply as everyone puts their hands over their hearts and recites the camp pledge: “Today, I dedicate myself to fun, friendship, and my fellow Foxes. I pledge to learn all I can, be the best I can be, and serve my camp, my country, and my world.” It sounds like kind of a lot to accomplish, but I try to remember the words anyway so I can recite them tomorrow.

  When we’re done, Camp Director Dana steps into the middle of the circle, and everyone starts pumping their fists and chanting, “Doo-bie! Doo-bie!” She raises her hands for silence, and when everyone finally quiets down, she says, “Good morning, Foxes! Welcome back. I hope you’re all ready to make this summer the best one yet!” Everyone goes crazy, and she has to pause again before she can continue. Making announcements at camp always takes way longer than it does anywhere else.

  “I don’t want to keep you from your food, but since this is the first day, I thought we’d talk through the schedule quickly. After breakfast you’ll head to your first two activities—your counselors have your schedules, and they’ll pass them out when you’re done eating. Activity three is after lunch, followed by Cabin Group and Free Time. After-dinner activities are different every day, and the counselors and I have planned some seriously awesome things for you this year. You ready to get started?” Everyone cheers. “Perfect! No other big announcements today. Let’s go get some grub!”

  Breakfast is cinnamon French toast sticks, which we eat with our fingers (except for Summer, who calls us animals and cuts hers up with a knife and fork). I look over at Mackenzie’s table and spot her slumped at the end of the bench again, picking at her French toast and not talking to anyone. Part of me wants to ask Val if I can go over and cheer her up again. But I know Roo’s watching me closely, and I don’t want to undo all the progress I made with the Willows last night by showing them someone else is my top priority. I stay put and eat my breakfast.

  When Val finally pulls out a folder full of schedules near the end of the meal, everyone starts talking at once and making grabby-hands. Mackenzie and I filled out our activity preference forms almost identically, so hopefully we’ll finally get to spend some time together.

  “Look these over, and come talk to me if you have any concerns,” Val says as she passes them out. “Please don’t ask to change your schedule unless you have a medical issue with an activity you’ve been assigned. If you’ve been placed in Horseback Riding and you’re allergic to horses, that’s a medical issue. If you’re not in Arts and Crafts in the same time slot as your friend, that’s not a medical issue.”

  I take a look at the paper Val hands me.

  CERVANTES, ISOBEL:

  Week 1:

  9:15: Ropes Course

  10:30: Boating and Canoeing

  1:00: Arts and Crafts

  Week 2:

  9:15: Archery

  10:30: Horseback Riding

  1:00: Sailing

  Week 3:

  9:15: Nature

  10:30: Soccer

  1:00: Fishing

  Week 4:

  9:15: Rock Climbing

  10:30: Water Skiing

  1:00: Ultimate Frisbee

  It looks pretty good overall. I’m not thrilled about the fishing part, but it could be worse. At least I didn’t get any of the other activities I listed as my lowest priorities, like tennis or softball.

  Across the table, Lexi’s trying to convince Val that she’s medically unable to go on nature walks because she might see a snake and have a heart attack. I get up and try to find Mackenzie so we can compare schedules, but everyone is moving around now, and there are so many people between us that I can’t see her. I still haven’t found her by the time Val herds us out the door.

  I’m superexcited to have Ropes Course first thing, even though it means I definitely won’t be with Mackenzie, who’s scared of heights. Mei gives me directions, but I don’t really need them—I took special note of where the course was last night during the treasure hunt. The counselor in charge has shaggy hair and those weird plastic plugs that stretch out your earlobes and make them look like tunnels, and I try not to stare at them.

  “Hey,” he says. “I’m Aaron.”

  I introduce myself, and he gestures to the ropes course above us. “You ever done this before?”

  “Not this particular one, but it looks a lot like the one at my old camp.”

  Aaron nods. “Sweet.”

  The other kids trickle in, including two boys I vaguely recognize. One of them is short and skinny, and he’s wearing a shirt that says THE MILITANT UNICORNS across the front. I think his nametag last night said BEANS. The other one is the redhead who hissed in my face at dinner, the one whose tag said TWIZZLER, but he doesn’t pay any attention to me, so he probably doesn’t remember.

  Aaron looks around and counts us. “Is that everyone? I think it is. Hello, little monkeys! Welcome to the ropes course. I’m Aaron, your handsome and clever leader. And this is Carl, our counselor-in-training.” He gestures to a lanky blond guy who looks a few years older than me. He’s got about seven hairs on his chin, and he’s let them grow really long; I bet he thinks they make him look manly or somethin
g. “Today we’ll teach you how to put on your harnesses, tie some knots, and safely communicate with us when we’re belaying you from the ground. That means anchoring the rope you’re attached to so you can’t fall if you slip when you’re high in the air. I know you’re anxious to get up there, but safety is our first priority. What’s our first priority?”

  “Safety,” we parrot back.

  “What good little monkeys. All right, everyone grab a harness out of that box, and let’s get started.”

  It takes me about thirty seconds to clip myself into a harness, so I help some of the younger kids, which makes me feel grown-up and knowledgeable. The next forty minutes are pretty boring, since I already know how to lock a carabiner, tie a figure-eight knot, and communicate with the person belaying me. But I dutifully shout out the commands over and over until everybody has them down.

  There are still twenty minutes left when Aaron’s satisfied that everyone knows the rules, so he asks if any of the more experienced climbers want to go up in the air for a little bit. I raise my hand faster and higher than anyone, and he picks me right away. There are two side-by-side vine walks on this ropes course, each with a single thin cable you’re supposed to walk like a tightrope and a bunch of knotted ropes of different lengths hanging down from above, which you grab for support. Aaron picks the redheaded Wolverine to go up and race me, and I clip Aaron’s line to the front of my harness while Twizzler does the same with Carl’s.

  “On belay?” I ask Aaron.

  “Belay on,” he says, which means he’s ready.

  “Climbing,” I say, and my heart starts pitter-pattering with excitement. I scale the rope ladder that leads up to one of the wooden platforms as fast as I can, and I hear one of the younger kids below me go, “Whoa.” I smile to myself as I step onto the platform fifteen feet in the air. I didn’t really need to climb so fast, but it’s possible I wanted to show off a little.