Camp Dork Page 2

  I hadn’t told them at the time because I thought they had enough to deal with after Molly was born. She was born with something called Down syndrome. It means that it’s going to take longer for her to learn things, and she might have other health issues, too. Like werewolfism. (I made that part up.)

  Dad grabbed the pamphlet from the table, moving Molly to his hip. She rubbed her gums on his shoulder, soaking his T-shirt with more drool in seconds. “Says here that there’s a scholarship application online. TechSquare sponsors a Paleo camper each summer.”

  “I saw that,” Mom said. “But Lucy would have to blog every day about camp. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

  I rolled my eyes. Mom and Dad were such pains about screen time. I was only allowed to Google stuff if they were in the same room as me. I don’t even have a smartphone!

  “It is expensive,” Dad muttered.

  The sofa groaned as Grandma hoisted herself up and waddled into the kitchen. Grandma wears sandals year-round, even in the winter, since her feet are so thick, and her steps are gentle as an elephant’s. Plod, plod, plod into the kitchen. Mom opened her mouth to repeat, “This is a family conversation,” but Grandma held up a hand to quiet her.

  “Ran into Helen Harris at the gas station,” said Grandma, naming Sheldon’s grandmother. “She was telling me all about this Camp Paleo. It shares the campground with some highfalutin camp for web geniuses.”

  “Camp eMagine,” Dad broke in. “They spend the whole time making phone apps and programming. I don’t think Lucy would be into that.”

  I nodded. “No way.” I might be a dork, but I wasn’t a geek.

  “Of course Lucy couldn’t hack it there,” Grandma sniped.

  “Hey!”

  She rolled her eyes and pointed a finger loaded down with silver and blue-stoned rings in my direction. “Let me finish. Helen says that Camp Imagine—”

  “eMagine,” Dad muttered just soft enough to make Grandma sigh.

  “—recruits old farts like me to help in the cafeteria. Lucy would go to Camp Paleo for free if I worked there.”

  “You’d do that?” Mom asked, her voice high-pitched. “Be a lunch lady to pay for Lucy’s camp tuition?”

  Grandma nodded, making her chins wobble. “Already applied. I’m doing it for me, much as anyone. What am I going to do all summer anyway? Lucy off at camp, Molly at that day care.” Grandma was a little bitter that Mom and Dad put Molly in day care instead of having her stay with Grandma all day while they were at work.

  “Maybe you’ll meet a friend,” Mom said, ignoring Grandma’s day care jab. The comment struck me as odd. I mean, kids are always on the lookout for friends. But grandmas? Why would Grandma need a friend?

  Grandma sighed and stood back up. “How do you think I’m going to look in a hair net?”

  I popped up and ran around the kitchen table to give Grandma a squeeze. Getting through two weeks away from home would be a lot easier with Grandma working at the neighboring camp. She patted my back.

  “You’re welcome,” she muttered. She waddled back toward the living room. “Those kids better love Hamburger Helper.”

  Poor eMagine campers.

  Chapter Three

  While I sat on the front porch waiting for Sam, Grandma inched by me, yanking on the handle of her overloaded suitcase.

  “You—puff—could—puff, puff—help me, you know,” she gasped.

  I stood up slowly, already feeling sweat drip down my back even though it was barely eight o’clock in the morning. I pushed Grandma’s suitcase while she pulled in the direction of her car’s open trunk. Hers was the typical oldy moldy car, a long sedan with an oversized trunk, velvety bench seats, and speeds that could only reach 60 miles per hour. We’d probably get to Pennsylvania by my eighteenth birthday.

  “When’s your boyfriend getting here?” Grandma asked after finally wedging her suitcase in the trunk.

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” I sort of shouted.

  “Then why are you blushing?” Grandma put her hand on her hip and stared me down with her beady eyes.

  My cheeks flamed. “It’s sunburn.”

  “Sudden-onset sunburn?” Grandma chuckled.

  “There’s his car!” I squealed, which only made Grandma cock a caterpillar-sized eyebrow at me. “My friend who happens to be a boy is here.”

  Sam’s mom parked just behind Grandma, but for some reason, Sam didn’t hop out like I thought he would. In fact, he and his mom seemed to be snarling back and forth about something. It was a little strange.

  I felt my cheeks flare red again. Here I was, counting the minutes until I could see Sam, and yet he was just sitting there in the car, yapping at his mom. I hadn’t seen him in a month! We had only talked on the phone twice, making plans to car pool to camp, and both conversations had added up to about seventeen minutes total! (Not that I counted on purpose. The phone tracks things like that, and I happened to notice.)

  This was not going as I had imagined. Sam wasn’t throwing open the door, rushing toward me, crushing me in a huge gymnasticy-strong hug. I stomped my foot, and of course, that was when Sam finally looked up.

  He smiled through the windshield glass at me, but it wasn’t a super happy let’s-have-the-best-summer-ever smile. It was a sad sort of smile, one that I’ve seen way too often on his face in the past.

  Slowly Sam eased open the back door of his mom’s car. She didn’t even turn off the engine. That was also strange. Shouldn’t she at least have a good-bye hug for her son before he headed off to camp for two weeks?

  Sam trudged toward me, head hanging low and hair hiding his eyes.

  “Don’t forget your suitcase!” I called to him, but Sam just kept moving toward me. “Dude. Your suitcase …”

  “I don’t need a suitcase,” Sam said. “And don’t call me dude.”

  “Duh. Of course you’re going to need a suitcase. You are going to stink so bad after two weeks in the same clothes.”

  “No, Lucy.” Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and met my eyes. “I don’t need a suitcase, because I’m not going.”

  Thud, thud, thud hammered my heart. “What do you mean you’re not going? Are you going to meet us there instead?”

  Sam swallowed and rocked back on his heels. “Listen, Lucy, something came up. An opening at this incredible gymnastics camp in Stanford. It’s a camp for regional champions. After camp, some of these guys go on to Nationals!” Sam’s eyes darted back and forth across my face.

  “How … when …” I couldn’t seem to form more than one word of each question.

  “It’s invite only, Lucy.” His voice sounded like Dad’s when he pleaded with me to go to bed at night. “Someone got injured and the camp had this last-minute opening. I’m the one they called. It’s—it’s sort of a big deal.”

  Sam’s mom stepped forward then. I hadn’t even heard her get out of the car.

  She gave me a small smile and said, “It’s a huge deal. It’ll mean propelling Sam to the next level of gymnastics, beyond regional. It’s an honor that he was invited.”

  I nodded. “Congratulations.” But it didn’t come out sounding genuine.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I really am. I know I talked you into this summer camp and now I’m backing out. But if I don’t do this …”

  I closed my eyes, picturing the mantel at Sam’s house—how it was crowded with trophies and pictures of him winning at competitions. I remembered the way he impressed everyone with backflips on the playground. And I also recalled how much Tom and Henry had used his talent to crush Sam’s confidence ever since second grade.

  “You’ve got to do it,” I said. Sam’s mom let out her breath in a long sigh. She smiled again and turned back to the car. “I mean it. Congratulations,” I said again.

  Sam did hug me then, a surprise squeeze that almost bruised my arms. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” he said, “but of course you do. Thank you!”

  I wonder if tears can sometim
es flow backward, down the inside of your face instead of burning your cheeks. Because that’s what I felt like was happening, even as I forced my mouth to stretch into a small smile. “Have a great time.”

  Sam shoved his hand through his hair, flattening the curls. “It won’t be fun,” he said. “It’s going to be nonstop work. But the best coaches in the nation will be there. Even some college coaches.”

  “Dude. We’re going into fifth grade. College? Really?”

  “Seriously. Don’t call me dude.” But Sam grinned. “Really. College coaches. Gymnastics is weird like that.” He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Here’s my email address. I’ll check it every day, ’cause you’re going to get an hour of screen time at Camp Paleo. You can keep me updated on the pack. We have Wi-Fi at camp, so we can Skype, too.”

  This time my smile was easier to fake. He still cared about the pack. “I’ll email you, but I don’t think I’m going to go to camp. I’ll stay home.” The only reason I even agreed to live like a caveman for two weeks was because Sam was going to do it, too. If he wasn’t going, neither was I.

  I yanked my little suitcase out of the trunk, hearing Grandma’s heavy steps plod up behind me. Both she and Sam said, “No!” at the same time.

  My head whipped between the two of them.

  “Oh, you’re going, missy.” Grandma pulled the suitcase back out of my hand, threw it in the trunk like it was as light as a pillow, and slammed the door.

  “You’ve got to go!” Sam yanked on my other hand. “You can’t change your plans because of me.”

  I bristled. “It’s not just because of you.”

  “Come on, Lucy. You’ve got to go. I dared you.”

  “You dared me to go with you. You’re not going, so I’m not going.”

  Grandma crossed her arms, sending the half-dozen or so necklaces strung around her neck rattling. “No, no, no. None of that business. You’re not going to be one of those love-struck girls who only does what her boyfriend does. Not my granddaughter.”

  “Grandma!” I hissed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Sam’s face flushed and his head jerked back like he’d been slapped. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “We’re just friends. But you’re going.”

  “Fine,” I snapped.

  “Fine.” Sam nodded.

  We stared at each other for a second.

  “Say good-bye to your boyfriend, and let’s hit the road,” Grandma finally said.

  My life was ruined.

  Chapter Four

  Do you know what Grandma listens to on long car rides? Public radio.

  Do you know how long I can listen to public radio before zoning out? I’m not sure, either. It all happened so fast. One minute, Grandma was cackling along to this old man talking about fixing cars. The next, Grandma’s ancient old car jerked to a stop.

  “We’re here, Toots,” said Grandma, stretching her arms. I rubbed at my eyes, feeling like Molly as I wiped some drool off my cheek. I caught Grandma’s glance, eyes wide, in the rearview mirror and looked around myself.

  A wooden sign at the edge of the stone and dirt parking lot had WELCOME TO CAMP PALEO painted on it in green letters. A dirt trail led into the woods beside the sign.

  A bunch of teenagers in matching olive-green T-shirts stood around the sign holding clipboards. I heard high-pitched giggling and looked around for Becky, my former best friend who pretty much tried to destroy my fourth-grade life. But Becky, thank goodness, wasn’t here. The laugh was from one of the teenage camp counselors. This girl wore a bright pink headband, her lips were the same glossy pink, and she clapped her hands when Grandma and I stepped out of the car.

  “Another camper wamper! If your last name begins with an A through F, you’re with me!” Clap, clap, clap. That meant April, Amanda, and I would be in the same cabin, which should’ve thrilled me, but I just sort of shrugged.

  Grandma elbowed me. “I know you’re bummed about your boyfriend—I’m sorry, your friend who’s a boy—but time to get over it.” Grandma rolled my suitcase to the overly happy camp counselor. I stretched a little beside the car, looking around for my pack.

  Just then, a huge brown van thundered down the path toward the parking lot. Right behind it was a sleek, white sports car, top pulled down, kicking up the dust.

  I rubbed some of the dirt out of my sleepy eyes and trudged on heavy feet behind Grandma toward the counselor. She had written her name—Jessica—on a nametag plastered to her T-shirt. The “a” was an enormous smiley face.

  The perky counselor’s real face fell a smidge as she glanced at me. I could sort of see why. I had caught a glimpse of myself in Grandma’s car window reflection. My sweaty bangs were splattered across my forehead. Dust from the passing cars caked my cheeks. And my suitcase was a hand-me-down from Mom’s college days. The handle was duct-taped to the case. And then there was Grandma, in her tie-dyed muumuu, smelling like the cigarettes she must’ve snuck while I was sleeping. Grandma grabbed a wet wipe out of her purse. “Clean up your face a little, Toots,” she whispered.

  A few seconds later, both of us turned as the brown van shuddered to a stop. Once I accidentally-on-purpose stomped on a spider and a million little baby spiders poured out from underneath its body. In a much less creepy way, people seemed to pour out of the van. I knew right away it was April’s family from the way her younger brother Scrappy screamed out of a window, “Hi, April’s friend!” Her teenage sister rolled her eyes and leaned against the side of the van. I could see through the open door that her other brother was sleeping in the middle row. Mr. Chester and Mrs. Chester, with the baby on her hip, pulled bags from the back of the van. Scrambling over the back row to climb out of the trunk came April, Amanda, and Sheldon. They were all giggling.

  “Guys!” I waved to them as Grandma checked over my registration with Jessica. But they were so busy having fun and divvying up their luggage, they didn’t see me. I noticed April’s hair was perfectly smooth and she wasn’t the least bit sweaty or dirty. I smoothed my hair a little. I waved a little harder, standing on my tiptoes.

  My pack still didn’t see me, but the kid getting out of the sports car did. He slipped his sunglasses up to the top of his head and winked, clearly thinking I had been waving like crazy at him. For real. He waved back.

  “No!” I started to say, but bit off the comment. I didn’t want to start off camp being the jerk who waved at a kid and then said, “No, not you.” I felt my face burn bright red. Not sure what to do, I just sort of hid behind Grandma.

  But this kid strode forward, somehow kicking a hacky sack from knee to shoulder to ankle and back again as he walked. “Hey,” he said with a nod. “I’m Jer.”

  Jer smiled, his teeth straight and white against his dark brown skin. I caught just a glimpse of his green eyes as he lowered sunglasses back over them. “What’s your name?”

  Grandma nudged me to answer and maybe, I don’t know, stop standing against her. But before I could answer, my pack finally saw me.

  “Lucy!” April shouted. “You’re here!”

  “Nice to meet you, Jer. I’m Lucy. Bye!” I said in a gush, then darted over to my friends.

  Later, after we said good-bye to our parents (and me to Grandma) and lugged our bags down the path through the woods to our campsite, I felt a little bad that I had sort of brushed off Jer. I knew I had somehow given him the impression that I liked him, if you know what I mean. Probably the best thing to do would be to just not talk to him for a few days.

  And besides, I had bigger things to worry about. Like living among spiders.

  Camp Paleo cabins were seriously just open log A-frames, with spiderweb drapery. April took the bunk above me and Amanda the one to her right. Under Amanda was a skinny girl named Megan who hadn’t spoken yet. She’s Korean, like Sheldon. Maybe she doesn’t speak English? On the other side of them was a bunk bed with Kira on the top bed. I don’t actually know her yet, but I know I don’t like her. She brought an enormous designer makeup b
ag to camp. Our counselor, Jessica, who slept under Kira, asked her how much something like that costs, and Kira replied, “Way more than you can afford.” Seriously.

  Kira’s twin brother, Ash, seems okay, though. He’s Sheldon’s bunkmate in the boy’s A-frame nearest ours, and I didn’t hear him complain once when Sheldon went on and on (and on) about the types of fossils they might find at the archeological site.

  After unpacking all of our stuff in our so-called cabins, we made our way to the computer lab, which was right outside Camp eMagine, for our screen time. It was too dark by then to see much of the techy camp, other than it featured actual buildings with electricity, judging from the light coming from windows. I hoped Grandma was okay.

  Everything cool here. Getting settled, I emailed Sam.

  But really, I already missed home.

  One day down at Camp Paleo! So far, camping like a caveman means eating horrible food, living among spiders, and trying not to fart in your sleep. We’re supposed to go on a hike today and then check out the archeological site. We might even trapeze pass the lush grounds of Camp eMagine. I hear they have such luxuries as running water and flushing toilets! Imagine!

  We’re off to the excavation site today. You can keep the fossils; I’m all about uncovering more about yours truly. What are you going to learn during these two weeks of caveman living? What questions do you have, fellow campers and noncampers alike? Ask away!

  Xoxo,

  Your Super-Secret Camp Paleo Blogger (SSCPB)