The annual school trip to Lake Lanier was a big deal. Every year the entire sixth grade went to a campsite at the lake to spend an extended weekend in the woods. There would be roasting marshmallows and sharing scary stories around the campfire, but teachers also organized activities and games to get us to work in teams. We were supposed to learn about nature, as well as how to be helpful and kind to one another.
I’d been looking forward to the trip ever since I heard about it during the first weeks of school. My family spent many weekends and vacations at our country house in Lake Lanier. I knew how to get around the lake. As did Lee—we explored Lake Lanier’s woods and trails together all the time. That is, we did when we were friends. But now we weren’t friends anymore. At the least, we weren’t friendly.
Now the idea of being in the middle of the woods with the entire sixth grade, who thought I was the uncoolest of the uncool, was nerve-racking. I thought about what would happen if I were left alone with Carmen Becker, who I’d said was afraid of her own shadow. Would she take revenge on me? Put a poisonous spider in my suitcase?
I dreaded being alone. I also dreaded being left out. Not going meant this doggone spell would never be lifted. And I wouldn’t get a chance to smooth things over with my friends. If I wanted to kill the spell by apologizing to everybody personally, I had to go camping. So, a-camping we would go.
Wednesday night at school was the parents’ meeting–each year a handful of parents volunteered to help plan the activities for the kids. My mom couldn’t go on the campout—she’d be on call that weekend—but she wanted to hear all the details anyway. I was going along so I could also get the scoop on the trip and perhaps beg the chaperones to place me in a cabin by myself (or maybe with Blake) and perhaps provide twenty-four-hour surveillance so that no one could kidnap me in the middle of the night. I didn’t think that was too much to ask, given the circumstances.
We took seats in the middle of the auditorium, a few rows from the stage. I fiddled with my braids—even though I was hesitant about going on the trip, I’d gotten braids just in case. They’d be an easy ’do while in the woods. I looked around for familiar faces, and as I turned to the right, I saw a not-so-friendly one: Nia’s. She was with her mother. I cringed.
My mom waved politely at them, but I pretended I hadn’t seen Nia. I looked down at my lap, then over to the left. My mom called over my head to Mrs. Shorter: “Hey, how you doing?” Then, to me, “June, you see Nia over there?”
I didn’t want to see her. I glanced up for a hot second, hoping she wouldn’t look my way. Instead, Nia chose that exact moment to gaze in my direction with her big almond-shaped eyes. Then we glared at each other for what seemed like a day and a half (but was actually more like two seconds). Finally, we each gave a single nod and went back to looking at our laps. I rolled my eyes while no one could see me.
When Blake walked into the auditorium with her mom, she gave me a big smile and wave. “Hey, girl!” I said, loud enough for Nia to hear me. Nia had this weird grudge against Blake, and I had no idea why. I knew it would annoy Nia that I just gave Blake and her mom the biggest hello ever.
A few minutes later, Olive Banks—the best friend who was still speaking to me—walked into the auditorium with her mother. Olive looked happy, a wide smile on her round face, her short curly hair bouncing as she walked. It wasn’t like Olive wasn’t mad at me. She was still pretty peeved I had called her a pushover on my blog. But she was very chill; she rarely stayed angry for long, and she wanted everyone to get along whenever possible. She was a peacemaker. She should really work for the United Nations. That’s what I should have written in that dumb blog.
Olive gave me a small hug and then walked past me toward Nia. Olive sat down in the row in front of her, and the two of them started chatting as if they weren’t sitting in the same dang auditorium as their (former) best friend. Okay, y’all really going to be like that? Fine.
Then Lee walked in. I mean, of course he was going to be here because this event was all about the lake. That was his playground. His happy place. I watched as Lee walked down the auditorium aisle with his grandmother. I tried to catch his eye as he lumbered by, but he never looked up. Instead, he crossed the space toward the opposite end of the seats and sat in front of Olive and Nia. Sigh…. Looked like Lee was getting more time with Nia after all, just like he’d wanted.
I propped my elbow on my knee and plopped my head into my hand. If this assembly was any indication of how the camping trip would go, then it looked like I’d be spending most of my time alone.
Finally, Alvin walked into the auditorium in front of his mother, who stopped to say a quick hello to one of his teachers. Alvin looked up at me with his wide brown eyes. We locked eyes. He gave a nod, tossing his natural curls back, and walked toward me.
He was in front of me before I could look away. “Hey, June. Hi, Dr. Jackson,” he said.
“Hi, Alvin,” my mom said warmly.
I didn’t say anything. I smiled. I think I was blushing. Why was I blushing? “Hi,” I said. I finally exhaled a bit.
The school bell rang, signaling the start of the meeting. Ms. West took the microphone at the front of the stage. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. Tonight is the start of planning for our upcoming camping trip for grade six. Who’s excited?”
The room exploded with cheers and clapping—minus me.
Each of the sixth-grade teachers came forward to talk about their role on the trip and what activities they would run. Hiking. Kayaking. Planting trees with the parks commission. They also talked about the things we’d been doing in school ahead of the trip. “Our sixth graders have really come together as a group this year, supporting one another. They’ve collaborated on a number of projects to upgrade our school grounds, and they’ve done some volunteer work, like with our Creeks club,” Ms. West said. “And we just finished our school musical, in which a number of sixth graders gave great performances.”
I looked down at my feet. My stomach grumbled, and I felt my skin get hot. I could feel the mean stares coming toward me from everyone in the room. The auditorium became super quiet. I could hear my pulse in my ears. Why did she have to mention the school musical? Why remind people of my horrible secret blog, the blog that had been released the weekend of the musical?
I looked out from under my right armpit toward where Nia was sitting. I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to know if she was looking my way. But I finally cracked one eye open. Sure enough, she was looking toward me with a smirk on her face. I covered my head with my hands and hoped Ms. West would change the subject soon.
After the meeting, my mom took me to our favorite restaurant, the Crab Shack. Dad would meet us there after he left the office. I hadn’t been to the Crab Shack since the day when I yelled at the top of my lungs that I wasn’t going to Howard and I couldn’t take the pressure of being eleven years old in this family anymore. I had made such a scene that Dad got up from our table and sat by the bar. I could have gotten an Oscar for my performance that night. But now we were back, and we both prayed that none of the same waitstaff were working tonight.
A hostess walked us to a booth toward the back. Not one staffer even gave us a second look as we cruised by. Maybe kids threw hissy fits there all the time!
The hostess handed us menus and left to get us glasses of water. I kept my head low, not wanting anyone to recognize me. I buried my head in the multipage menu—they still had that cheese dip I liked. Dad popped in and said his hellos and got settled. After a few minutes, a server came to the table. “Hi, I’m Sheila, and I’ll be serving you tonight,” she said. “What can I get you all to drink?”
I recognized the voice immediately. Sounded like Victoria.
“Hi there,” Mom said in her usual polite tone.
Sheila? I thought. I glared at her face as she stood there grinning at my dad while he ordered three iced teas for us. I gritted my teeth. Definitely Victoria, acting like a waitress named Sheila. It was so frustrating that Victoria could literally turn into whoever she wanted. She most loved to show up when I least expected her to, around people I least wanted her to interact with. The last time we were here, Victoria had shape-shifted into our server. It seemed she had gotten herself a permanent gig. I hoped she was making some good tips.
Sheila went to get our drinks, then returned with the iced teas. “What can I get for you?” she prompted again.
My father glanced at the menu and announced his order. “I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich,” he said, looking Victoria straight in the face.
“And I’ll have the Cobb salad. June, you want the wings? And the dip?”
I nodded and avoided eye contact.
“That waitress looks familiar,” Mom said after she’d turned and left. “I think we had her last time. She was nice.” I took a huge gulp of my iced tea. If you only knew the mayhem that lady has put me through, I thought.
“June, how are you feeling about the camping trip?” Dad asked.
“F-fine,” I said, deciding to keep my answers brief and quiet. The truth is, I was ready for the trip like I was ready to go to the dentist to have a cavity filled—it needed to be done, but it wasn’t going to be fun, especially if none of my friends would speak to me. I didn’t want to reveal too much, so maybe the less I said, the less my parents would ask about it. “Just gonna pack light, I guess,” I said. I felt a slight itch in my nose, the telltale sign that Victoria was warning me not to lie. I reached for my napkin to rub my nose lightly, and to shield my face in case I had a sneezing attack.
Ten minutes later, “Sheila” came back to drop off the food, winking at me as she put the plate of wings in front of me. She kept cool and quickly went away after holding my gaze for just a second. It was Victoria, right? Hard to tell without the tiara and puffy gown. But she had reminded me multiple times she was listening to my every word. Maybe she thought I needed to have an important conversation with my parents tonight….
Mom jumped into the conversation. “Speaking of school, I haven’t heard much about the school paper. How’s the writing coming along?”
I perked up. “It’s good!” I said between bites of chicken. “I think I’m going to start working on a big new story.”
Okay, I actually had no idea how big that “truth” about Featherstone Creek was going to be. But it was big enough that everyone at the paper was digging into it, and I wanted to be the first to figure it out. “I heard there’s apparently some hidden secret about Featherstone Creek.”
Dad looked at Mom quickly but kept eating his sandwich and sneaking looks at the football game on the television above the bar. Mom stuffed her mouth with Cobb salad and looked down. She gave one nod. There was an awkward silence. She suddenly didn’t seem interested in my work on the paper, even though she was the one who’d asked about it. She was the one who’d supported my decision to stay on the paper when Dad was trying to encourage me to do the debate club instead. I was surprised she wasn’t cheering me on.
Mom quickly changed the subject. “Any other drama or arts stuff going on? You seemed to want to pursue acting. Have they announced more plays or performances at school?”
I followed Mom’s train of thought. “Not yet,” I said, “but we should start looking into representation. And I might have to pursue the arts outside of Featherstone Creek if there are no real opportunities for me here. Like, maybe I should start auditioning for commercials?”
“Let’s see if we can make it through the next term with good grades, and then we can talk about additional extracurriculars,” Dad said.
I forgot about the camping trip for the rest of dinner, more concerned instead with the barbecue sauce–drenched wings on my plate (and now in my belly).
When we finished, my parents paid the check and got up from the table. As I scooted across the booth’s leather seat, I took a closer look at the bill for signs of fairy godmother. I opened the check holder to verify—and a waft of fairy dust flew in my face. My nose instantly became irritated, and I almost sneezed all over the table “Sheila” had just wiped clean.
I knew it.
Sheila was Victoria! Just like I’d suspected. That woman was going to have to try thinking of new tricks, because I was pretty sure I had all of her usual ones figured out already.
I quickly closed the check, got up, and walked out behind my parents, trying to hold my sneeze in as I left.
Mom and Dad were unusually quiet in the car. They turned on the radio to listen to a podcast interview with some professor. Maybe they were truly interested, but I was so bored by the conversation that I fell asleep. Once we pulled into our garage, I shook myself awake and shuffled into the house. Mom and Dad then quickly went to their respective offices, claiming they had work to do. I went up to my bedroom and started to get ready for bed.
Before I got into my nighttime routine, though, I reached for my journal. The gears in my mind were in overdrive, thinking about what had been said and not said over dinner.
Dear Journal,
Was it me, or were my mom and dad super weird after I told them about the rumored secret of Featherstone Creek? Do they know something? Are they involved somehow? I mean, Dad was way more into his sandwich than the story. (Or was he just annoyed—again—that I’m not on the debate team?) Mom was, like, bothered. Have they heard this before? Did they talk to Quincy’s father’s cousin from the car wash? I don’t know. But now I’m even more curious to find out the real secret.