7

WAKE UP AND SMELL THE FRENCH TOAST

FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT I can remember, I wake up before the sun. On purpose.

There is no way I’m waiting for an eight a.m. bugle call that will leave me with only a half hour to get ready. I need to be the first one in the shower. Lina claims people “wash and go” to breakfast with a wet head, but “wash and go” has never been my style.

I need something to take my mind off the fact that I, Harper McAllister, am now officially off the grid. Court made me fork over my cell phone last night. Sam and Court tried to make the ritual fun by having each of us give a eulogy for our phones, but I still didn’t take it well. (They had to practically pry the phone out of my hands.) I climb down my bunk ladder, careful not to wake any of the sleeping beauties, and shine my pink Hello Kitty flashlight at the floor to guide me to the bathroom. I close the creaky door behind me, turn on the light, and gasp.

The bathroom is even more disgusting in the morning! Battleship gray for a bathroom color? Shudder. Would it kill someone to install an air freshener that could knock out that musty, wet dog smell? And what is with the water everywhere? There are puddles on the floor, water clogging up one of the sinks, and little pools of water in the bottom of the showers. Eww. Note to self: Never enter the bathroom barefoot. Courtney is crazy if she thinks I am cleaning this room. She went over the chore wheel last night, and I’ve decided scrubbing toilets is worse than being put on kitchen duty. My pretty purple bathroom cubby is the only warm and inviting thing in here. There was no way I was parting with my straightening balms, so I crammed everything I could into these purple baskets. I pull out a bottle and several come tumbling down. I hold my breath and listen. My bunkmates are still snoring. Thank God.

I step into a shower stall. The water pressure might be the first thing I like about this bathroom. The hot water shoots out at such a high speed that it almost feels like the rain showerhead I have at home. I linger longer than I should to enjoy a few minutes of bliss. Last night’s welcome-back barbecue luau was anything but welcoming. I wore my Hawaiian print dress with the cutest wedges anyone’s ever seen, but no one else got into character. Jeanie was in jean shorts, and I think Ethan had on an old Color War tee. I didn’t stand close enough to see for sure because every time I ran into one of the guys from his bunk they called me “zip line crasher” or “Camping Barbie” and then the girls from my bunk would chime in. Kyle barely acknowledged me (he had a hot dog eating contest with Justin that drew a huge crowd). Lina told me not to sweat it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my first day had been a complete bust.

It’s all I can think about as I plug in my flat iron and my blow-dryer. It’s not going to bother anyone now. The sun is up, and I hear girls beginning to move around. That’s what they get for not using their sleep masks. I see a light flicker on in the other room from under the bathroom door and someone turns on their iPod Shuffle (one of the few approved electronic devices we can have). The sounds of a boy band float through the door. McDaddy did their first video. As cute as they are, he said, the four of them are nothing short of overindulged brats. I clip part of my wavy blond hair back and prepare to dry the first section before it starts to frizz. As soon as I flip on the hair dryer switch, Courtney races into the bathroom—and slides in a puddle. I can barely hear what she’s jabbering about over my dryer.

“What?” I yell as I weave a section of hair around the brush and pull. I have gotten so good at decurling my hair that I could do it blindfolded. “Is something wrong?”

Melody and Camilla show up seconds after Courtney. They all look pretty angry for eight a.m. By this point Courtney is at my side, and I can sort of hear her over the blower. “Turn it off!” she shouts. “Quick before it blows the—”

The lights go out and the room goes silent. I hear the angry voices of bunk 10B just a few feet away. Oh boy.

Jeanie marches into the bathroom wearing a tank top, boxers, and a smirk. “Of course it’s you,” she says. “Who else would blow the circuit the first morning here?”

Lina has appeared, biting a strand of her pink hair. I wonder how pink hair tastes compared to normal-colored hair. “Sorry,” I apologize meekly. “I forgot that—”

“A blow-dryer and a flat iron plus lights and electronics could blow the power to an entire bunk?” Jeanie snaps. She rips the hair dryer out of the wall. “You have to ask before you turn on a power sucker like that, Camping Barbie.”

“That’s enough, everyone,” Sam says, looking bleary-eyed and gripping her cell phone. When did she get here? “I’ll call Hitch and tell him what happened.” I eye her phone with envy.

“It won’t happen again,” I promise while Sam talks in hushed tones.

Jeanie looks at me stonily. “Why would you straighten your hair today, anyway? The first dance isn’t until Friday. Your hair is going to get destroyed at today’s Mud-a-Thon.”

“Mud-a-Thon?” I am terrified even though I have no clue what that is.

“And if we don’t beat the guys’ bunk, someone is seriously going to pay.” Addison looks directly at me. She’s sort of scary. I think it’s because she’s such a tall girl with crazy muscles. Does she do shot put for track? I’m afraid to ask.

“Addison, it’s eight a.m.,” Lina says, coming to my rescue. “Could you save the threats till at least after noon?” She winks at me, and I mouth thank you.

There is now a huge crowd in the bathroom. They hover around Sam and Courtney, looking sleepy, frizzy, and unrefreshed (thanks to me), while they wait to hear the verdict. When Sam hangs up, her face is grim. “Hitch is already at the mess hall for breakfast.” Groans. “He says this is a lesson for all of us on not abusing, um, electricity.” Sam makes a face and looks at Courtney. “He won’t turn the breaker back on till after breakfast.” The girls groan loader. “Which we’re going to be late to at this rate.”

Courtney looks at her watch. “You guys get twenty minutes.” Cries of injustice bounce off the tiles. “Just shower in the dark if you planned on showering!”

Everyone marches angrily past me. Lina comes to the sink to brush her teeth. “When Vickie said there was a lack of juice in the cabins, she really meant it, huh?”

Lina stops brushing. “It’s pretty bad. I’m surprised they can handle an iPod. Are you okay?”

“I feel bad.” Then I have an idea. “Does anyone need dry shampoo so they don’t have to wash their hair?” Lina tries to wave me off. “Or hair balm? You won’t have to—”

I hear an ear-piercing scream and flinch. “Who used up all the hot water?” Jeanie pops her head out of the shower, wearing a shower cap. She gives me a defiant look.

“You don’t have to say it.” I drop my beauty supplies in the cubby. I don’t have to look in the mirror to know how strange my hair must look half straightened, half frizzed, but I’d rather look ridiculous than face this crowd. “I’ll go wait on the porch.”

The fun doesn’t stop when we reach the mess hall almost fifteen minutes later than everyone else at camp. Everyone is already chowing down on pancakes and eggs. Hitch uses his megaphone to rub in our late arrival. “Bunks 10A and 10B have finally made it!”

I keep my head down as I walk, but I freeze when I hear Kyle’s voice. His bunk is giving us an extra hard time as we approach. Our two bunks grind to a halt in front of the boys’ table to whip up some comebacks. I catch Ethan’s eye. He still seems stony, even though he’s the one who humiliated me.

“Everyone knows what being late means,” Justin gloats. “Kitchen duty!”

“Double kitchen duty,” Heath reminds us. “You already have to clear our plates for losing the zip-line challenge.”

Kyle mouths something to me, but I’m not sure what he’s saying. Oh. “Three points.” Grr…

“I cannot wait to see you in a hairnet, Jeanie,” Ethan teases.

“I’m just glad you don’t own a camera, Ethan,” Jeanie says but actually laughs.

I watch them curiously and then stop when I realize my mutinous bunk is staring me down. I attempt a smile. 10B is hungry, so they walk away. My bunk stays put.

“Why were you guys late your first morning here?” Heath asks.

“Somebody used up the hot water and blew the circuit in the cabin.” Jeanie glares at me.

“All right, already!” I snap, having had enough of the jabs. They all look at me. “Would it help if I volunteered to do kitchen duty after breakfast all by myself?”

Lina grabs my arm. “Uh, Harper, you might not want to…”

Camilla and Jeanie look at each other. “I guess it is the least you could do after this morning,” Jeanie says. “As long as you know how to load a dishwasher.” I notice Ethan’s eyes on me. I look away.

I may be a princess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what Cascade is. “Of course I know how to load a dishwasher.” It’s been over a year, but still. “I’ll take care of everything. It’s the least I can do after this morning’s ill-timed power outage.”

“I’ll help you,” Lina volunteers. I smile at her gratefully.

“If Lina’s on kitchen duty, then I am, too,” says Heath, who slides next to Lina. I notice Kyle’s frown. “We can suds up the dishes together,” he says smoothly.

“Thanks, but I can wash dishes on my own,” Lina says, missing his point.

“The whole bunk is on kitchen duty, anyway,” says Parker, a stocky guy who looks like he could lift me with one hand. “We did it out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“You guys don’t have hearts,” Trisha says, playing with her friendship bracelet. “If you did, you wouldn’t have planted that family of frogs in our cabin last season.”

“Hey, that was never proven,” Ethan reminds her.

“It had your name all over it,” Jeanie says, winding a curl around her finger.

“You talk a big game,” Ethan says. “Let’s see if you can bring it at Mud-a-Thon.”

The guys turn back to their table with their egos inflated while my bunkmates head to our table with barely a thank-you to me for my kitchen duty offer.

“Kitchen duty takes a while,” Courtney warns me on the way to the table. “You’ll probably miss second period.” She looks at Lina. “We’re playing dodgeball.”

“That’s okay,” Lina says with a shrug. “I’m zip-lining during free period and playing softball in the late afternoon. I can survive missing one dodgeball game.”

That’s really generous of Lina. When the infamous Bunsen burner episode happened at school last week, Kate was my lab partner and still refused to help me clean up. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Nope,” she says. “That’s what roomies are for.” I grin.

“Perfect. We’ll see you third period,” Courtney says and walks off to meet Sam.

This is the first time I’ve been in the mess hall since yesterday’s lunch. The room looks like the school cafeteria—if it were in a giant log cabin and had picnic tables with checkered tablecloths instead of tiny round tables. Everyone is eating family-style, which reminds me of the summer McDaddy took us to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and made us eat at this restaurant called Good ’N Plenty. The volume inside the room is so high that I have to resist the urge to plug my ears. The bunk is already eating when we get to our table. Maybe we should have moved faster. Most of the platters are empty! There is a sad little piece of egg left on one and half a piece of bacon on another. The only cereal choice left is Cocoa Pebbles. Never a personal fave. Asking how I can get a half a melon or an egg sunny-side up will probably result in the bunk telling me I expect to be catered to. Sigh. Lina takes the Cocoa Pebbles while I pick at a piece of dry toast.

A high-pitched sound makes me jump. Hitch is at the front of the room with a microphone replacing his megaphone. “Morning, Whispering Pines!” Everyone claps as if they haven’t heard that welcome a thousand times before. “How is day two treating you?” The cheers are so deafening, what’s left of the orange juice in the pitcher on our table shakes. “I’d like to thank Beaver for those amazing pancakes he made today. Let’s give it up for the big guy, shall we?” More applause. “Before I get to our regular morning announcements, I have something exciting to discuss. The Pines is entering a nationwide contest that could make all of us famous.” A hush falls over the room. I grab the squirt jelly and try to shake some out on my dry toast. “How would you feel about a Grammy-winning musician shooting her next music video at our camp?”

The sound that comes next is so deafening I squeeze the jelly too hard and it squirts all over my Chloé shirt. I grab a napkin and begin dabbing it with water, but it’s no use. I’ve just ruined a ninety-dollar T-shirt the first time I wore it.

“Settle down so I can explain,” Hitch says. Pam hands him an index card, and he reads off of it. “This star has written a song about summer loves, and apparently she met hers at a sleepaway camp, so she’s looking for one to use as a location for the shoot. She wants a camp with a woodsy feel, old-school cabins, a big lake, and large fields.”

“That’s the Pines, y’all!” Vickie whispers, and I notice a piece of cereal stuck in her braces.

Camilla grunts. “And probably every other sleepaway camp in America.”

Hitch continues to talk. “Most important, she wants a camp with spirit because all the campers would be video extras.” More squeals make my head throb.

“To enter, camps must submit an artistic piece—written, painted, video, or otherwise—that highlights camp life and camp spirit.” He makes a face. “The only problem is entries are due in three weeks. Do you think we can do it?” Kids start banging on the table with their forks, anything they can find. “Since time is of the essence, we will vote after breakfast on what type of entry to submit, and work will begin immediately. Those interested in participating can do so during their free periods and…”

“You still haven’t said who the musician is!” Ethan interrupts.

“Oh, right!” Hitch looks at Pam in confusion, and she whispers something in his ear. “Er, it’s London. London Blue? What kind of name is that?”

The last part is drowned out by the pandemonium. Our bunk is jumping up and down and screaming along with the rest of the mess hall. The plates on our table are jumping, and a few slide off the table, taking the remains of their breakfasts with them.

I’m going to have to clean that up.

“London Blue!” Lina’s gray eyes widen. She is holding my arm so tight, it hurts. “Oh my God! We have to win.”

“We will,” I say confidently. I wish I could tell Lina the truth, but she’s the first friend I’ve made here and I don’t want that to change because of who I know. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kyle. I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Neither of us is going to use our connection to London against the other. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Another plate hits the floor. “I’m going to start kitchen duty,” I say. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d choose cleanup over conversation. Another camp first.

“I’ll go with you.” Lina follows me out of the mess hall in a daze. It’s so chaotic I can’t breathe till we leave the London Blue zone.

“Wow, I think I’m going to be deaf for a week,” I say.

Lina laughs. “Well, you might be deaf longer than that after kitchen duty. Beaver loves to play loud music during cleanup.” She thinks for a moment. “And while he cooks. Basically all the time. His favorite is London. Wait till he hears what’s going on.”

We round the outside porch and stop in front of the kitchen doors. I can hear someone barking orders and boys talking over the sounds of pots clanging and table requests being shouted out. The music in the kitchen is blasting.

“Beaver?” I repeat.

“Yep,” Lina says. “He’s been the head cook here for years. He teaches all the cooking classes and loves to sing. He performed a U2 song in the talent show last year.” I laugh, and she makes a face. “There’s one thing you should know, though.”

A huge guy wearing a Harley-Davidson tank and a red bandana throws open the door and scares me half to death. “Cleanup crew?” he barks. We nod. “This isn’t social hour. Get in here!” He slams the door behind him, and a phone falls out of his pocket.

“He gets stressed out during cleanup before the next meal,” Lina says a little late. “He never has enough help, I guess. Otherwise he’s a total sweetheart. I swear!”

I pick up Beaver’s phone and stare at his retreating backside. “I guess we should give his phone back.” I begin to open the door and stop. “But first…”

Lina’s eyes widen. “Harper—nooo! Back away from the phone. You can do it! Harper? Harper, are you listening to me?”

FROM: HarperMc15@gmail.com

TO: HomeBody@gmail.com

SUBJECT: Send care package ASAP

Mom, might have mispacked a teensy bit. Seems you were right—there is less of a need for Chloé shirts and more of a need for Old Navy tees (don’t rub it in, okay?). Mailing some bags back. Can you send some tees ASAP? Also, may need a second pair of Converse.

Kyle is fine. He’s ignoring me. Might you consider keeping him here all year?

Will e-mail when I can. My phone has been confiscated. (Tell McDaddy thanks for mentioning that camp rule.)

XO, H

Harper McAllister @HarperMc

I’m back, twerps! I’ve got limited phone access (shh!) so stay tuned to find out how I’m surviving the summer. #summersecrets