After breakfast, with Jen busy with Galaxy Wars stuff and nowhere to be found, Roanoke marched over to Rosie’s cabin to ask if Rosie thought it would be okay if Castor stayed in the cabin.
“How long do you plan on staying?” Rosie inquired.
“Oh, a day or two at most.” Castor assured her. “Just passing through.”
“Aw,” Ripley grumbled, hanging her head. “Don’t leave yet.”
“I think a few days is okay. We’ll just need some sort of notice from a parent or guardian to let us know someone knows you’re here,” Rosie said, rubbing her chin.
“Oh, quite right,” Castor nodded. “I could get in touch with someone, yes, of course. My whereabouts on this plan—er, in this place, are certainly known.”
“Excellent,” Rosie boomed, as she coiled a very long silver chain on a rather large spool sitting on her desk. “So a letter of some sort shouldn’t be a problem.”
Castor shook her head. “Certainly not.”
“Well, that was shockingly easy,” Molly said, as they left the cabin. “What do you want to do now?”
“Um . . .” Mal was already stepping away. “I have to go practice my song,” she said.
April had her Surf’s Up badge, which meant spending her day with Seafarin’ Karen.
“Hang ten, dudes!” she called, as she ran to get changed into her board shorts.
Ripley had to work on her Sew Be It badge, although she was sorry to go. “I’ll be back real fast,” she promised Castor, and she bounced off.
Castor adjusted the cuffs on her jacket. “Well then,” she said, looking in the direction of the mess hall and the unguarded cheese, “I suppose I will just acquaint myself with the local grounds while you all are off doing your relative duties.”
“Hey! We could give you a tour!” Molly piped in.
Technically, Molly’s varied experiences with tours of various historic monuments had been that they were pretty dry experiences with plaques and posing next to plaques, but camp was way more interesting than the site of the factory that made the first safety pins, Molly’s father’s favorite.
“That’s a great idea,” Jo said. Because Jo was looking for a distraction from the piece of paper in her pocket, and because Jo wanted to keep an eye on Castor.
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Castor protested. “I’m sure you have better and more important things to do than to escort me about.”
“Actually,” Jo said, “showing you around is kind of a Lumberjane thing.”
“A Lumberjane . . . thing?” Castor tilted her head.
“Helping,” Jo explained, “is kind of a Lumberjane thing. Like something we try to do as Lumberjanes. Anyway, I’m sure there’s lots of stuff around here that would be of interest to you. What are some of your hobbies?”
“Oh,” Castor scratched her head. “Hobbies? I’m sorry, not familiar with the term.”
“You know,” Molly said, adjusting the slumbering raccoon on her head. “Like the things you like to do, like pottery or, um, painting or whatever?”
Castor squinted. “Sorry. Still not following.”
“Okay, well,” Jo started walking across the grass. “We’ll just start walking around and pointing at things and telling you things and you can shout out any questions.”
Castor gave a tiny mouse shrug and followed Molly and Jo toward the center of camp.
Just about every square inch of the camp was covered in scouts doing what scouts do, including: team jump rope (for the Skip It badge), weaving, boxing, and a round of tai chi.
“So this is a pretty typical day at camp,” Molly said. “Which means it’s pretty kernuts around here.”
Castor wasn’t sure what a kernut was but assumed it was a type of cheese.
Castor squinted and pointed. “What’s that?”
“That’s Jazzercise,” Molly said, holding her hands up and waving her fingers in demonstration. “Which is not really a word. But it’s like a dance-y exercise, I guess? I believe that move is technically a RuPaul shimmy.”
“Blimey.” Castor’s nose twitched. “And why would you spend your time doing something like that?”
“It’s good exercise,” Jo offered. “Good for flexibility and coordination.”
“And it’s FUN,” Molly said.
Castor hopped over to Jo’s other shoulder and pointed to a figure running through the camp with great speed. “And is that also Jazzysize?”
Jo squinted. “Um. Oh. Actually, I think that’s someone getting chased by a bee.”
“Goodness.” Castor shook her head. Sniffed the air. Pointed. “And are those also for Jazzysize?”
Molly stepped over to where Castor was pointing and picked up a white volleyball, tossing it in the air. “These are volleyball courts.”
“And what do you use the net for?”
“You hit the ball over it,” Jo explained.
“Then what?” Castor ran a paw over her whiskers.
“Well. Then someone hits it back.” Molly said.
“And why do you do that?” Castor wondered.
“It’s a great cardiovascular workout,” Jo began. “Hand-eye coordination . . .”
“And it’s FUN,” Molly added emphatically.
“This is a very strange place,” Castor said quietly. “A strange, FUN planet.”
The last leg of the tour was the arts and crafts cabin.
“And this,” Molly explained, throwing open the doors, “is where we make things!”
Jo put her hand down on one of the tables next to a pile of felt.
Castor crept down her arm, her body twitching. “What . . .” she stammered. “This is . . .”
Castor cautiously crawled up to a bucket of buttons of all shapes and sizes and plunged her paw inside to pull out a large green button the size of her face.
“All of this,” she said, her voice hushed. “You can just… take?”
“Yeah, there’s pipe cleaners and anything long and bendy on this wall, this wall is for round and shiny, this wall is for paint, and this wall,” Molly said, gesturing, “is Ripley’s favorite, THE GLITTER WALL.”
Castor stepped forward and pushed her paw into a bucket of yellow sparkles. “Glitter,” she said, her voice hushed.
“We could make a moon now if you want,” Jo said.
Castor looked up. Stunned. “You want to make a moon?”
“We can make whatever you want,” Jo said, looking around. “I think we just need some Styrofoam.”
“Why would we MAKE a moon?” Castor asked, sinking her paw back into the glitter.
“Well,” Jo tilted her head. “You could make a moon using precise existing measurements and that could—”
“Because it’s FUN,” Molly said, pulling out a pair of scissors. “Also, it’s super easy. I’ll show you.”
“Right,” Jo added, grabbing a tube of glue. “Fun.”
“This fun thing,” Castor marveled, “is quite the stuff down here.”