Church Camp Chaos (9 page)

EJ

EJ plodded down the steps to the living room, her feet feeling like heavy bricks. She inhaled and opened her eyes wider to try not to look as sad as she felt.

As she rounded the turn in the steps, she saw Mom, Dad, Nana, and Pops standing in a tight circle in the living room. Pops was speaking quietly—almost in a whisper—and EJ could barely make out his words. Suddenly she felt like she was walking into something she probably wasn’t supposed to, but instead of going back upstairs, she dropped to her hands and knees and inched her way down the last few steps to hide behind the couch to listen.

“… We give You control, Father,” Pops prayed, his voice sincere and urgent. “I pray that Tabby and David would seek Your wisdom in this situation. And we ask that You would make it clear to them what You want them to do with this opportunity….”

What situation? What opportunity?
EJ wondered.

“… It’s in Jesus’ name we ask these things …”

No, Pops! Talk more about the “situation”!

“Amen.”

EJ peeked around the corner of the couch, careful not to be seen. She saw Mom and Nana in a tight embrace, Nana whispering something to Mom and tears streaming down Mom’s face. Pops and Dad shook hands that ended in a hug. Something didn’t sit right with EJ. This wasn’t just a normal tearful good-bye to send off Nana and Pops.

Mom and Nana dried their eyes and smiled at each other, hugging once again, and then the four adults made their way through the front door to the driveway where the Winnebago sat, starting to say their good-byes.

EJ waited until they were out the door and their backs were turned before she stood from her hiding spot.

“EJ! Isaac! Nana and Pops are leaving! Come say good-bye!” Dad called.

“Coming!” EJ said, a little too brightly, still trying not to look as sad—or now as curious—as she felt. EJ went outside and rushed to Nana, wrapping her arms around her grandmother’s waist in a tight squeeze. “Can’t you stay another day?”

“I wish we could, sweetie,” Nana said, hugging EJ and giving her a kiss on the head. “But I can’t wait for our next video chat. Are we on for Wednesday?”

“Absolutely,” EJ said.

EJ reluctantly let go of Nana’s waist, turned, and jumped up into Pops’s outstretched arms.

“Whoa there, easy on the old man!” Pops laughed. He held her in midair then hugged her tight. “You are a gem, you know that, DG?”

“You’re a gem, too, Pops,” EJ said, kissing him on the cheek. “A seventy-two-karat diamond.”

“Too expensive for my blood—I’m no Richard Rich.” Pops smiled and set EJ back on the ground. “Now where’s that grandson of ours?”

Isaac stood inside the front door, pressing his nose against the screen so it looked like a pig snout.

“Buddy, come out here to say good-bye,” Mom said, motioning for him to come.

“No,” he said sullenly.

“You heard your mom,” Dad said a little more sternly. “Get out here to say good-bye to Nana and Pops.”

Silence.

Mom and Dad gave each other the “he’s
your
son” look that EJ knew so well.

“Now, Isaac!” Dad meant business this time.

The screen door squeaked open, and Isaac emerged, walking slowly toward the them, one hand under his Batman T-shirt and one on his head, like he was going to do his “I can scratch my head and rub my belly at the same time” trick. But instead of grinning, patting, and rubbing, he was whimpering and scratching.

“What is it, Isaac? What’s wrong?” Mom kneeled to get down on his level.

“My throat hurts, Marmalade,” Isaac said, looking pitiful. “And I itch … bad.”

Mom lifted up Isaac’s T-shirt and found the culprit of the itchiness: red, raised bumps on his skin.

EJ took a step away from her brother. She was sure he’d contracted some terrible disease from playing in the dirt and picking up bugs and worms and other disgusting things.

“Is this what I think it is?” Mom looked up at Nana, who crouched down for a closer look. Nana put her hand on Isaac’s forehead.

“Red spots and a fever. Just like when you had them as a kid.” Nana nodded. “But didn’t they get shots for this before they started kindergarten?”

“I do remember the doctor said the vaccine isn’t effective for every kid. And mine
are
exceptional in more ways than one.” Mom grinned weakly, pulling Isaac in for a hug. EJ thought her brother must’ve been feeling sick, because he rarely let Mom hug him like that—especially in front of other people.

“Well, buddy, it looks like you’ve got chicken pox,” Mom said. “You’ll only get it this one time, and then you don’t have to ever get it again.”

“The bad news is you don’t
actually
get to lay eggs or sprout feathers,” Dad said, acting extremely disappointed at this fact. “There’s not really anything too chicken-y about chicken pox.”

“Oh, bummer,” Isaac said. “I would like to have talons instead of fingers to help me scratch these itches.”

Mom whispered something in Isaac’s ear, and EJ started thinking about what animal characteristics she would want. Definitely not talons. Maybe wings, but only the kind that would let her fly. Hummingbird wings maybe. Or an opossum tail that she could hang upside down from. Or an owl’s night vision. The possibilities were endless….

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, EJ saw something streaking toward her.

EJ ducks and puts her arms over her head as an out-of-control chicken takes a leap at her, its sharp talons outstretched and feathers flying
.

“ISAAC!” she shouts at the chicken. “Dad said you
wouldn’t
turn into a chicken!”

Now back on the ground, the Isaac chicken cocks its head, zeroing a beady black eye in on EJ like it wants to take another go at her in an insane game of poultry tag
.

“Baaach, baach, baach!” the fowl responds, a crazed look in its eye. Extending its wings in a flightless flap, the Isaac chicken runs at EJ. She doesn’t know whether to try to fight it off or flee, so she just freezes and ends up in a feathery chicken embrace, Isaac’s wings pinning EJ’s arms down to her sides
.

EJ snaps out of her daydream and realizes her chicken-poxed brother is actually hugging her. “Ew, no!” she shouts as she pries Isaac’s arms open so she can get away from him. “What are you
doing
, you little creep? You’re going to give me chicken pox!”

“Mom told me to!” Isaac pointed at Mom and used his other hand to scratch his shoulder through his T-shirt.

EJ looked at Mom, who was trying to hide a smile behind her hand. Dad, Nana, and Pops just outright grinned at her.

“What gives?” EJ put her hands on her hips and glared at Mom. “You
want
him to
infect
me?”

“Actually, I do,” Mom said. “EJ, you haven’t had chicken pox yet, and if the vaccine doesn’t work on Payne genes, the sooner you get sick, the better.”

“Why?” EJ demanded.

“You’re going to church camp in a few short weeks,” Dad said. “So the sooner you get chicken pox, the sooner you can get over them.”

Camp. The thought that Isaac’s chicken pox plague could keep her from going to Camp Christian gave her the resolve she needed. EJ swallowed to check if she had even a hint of a sore throat yet.

Nothing.

An idea—perhaps the most disgusting idea EJ had ever had in her life—suddenly popped into her brain.

“Hey, Isaac, you know what would be good for your sore throat?” EJ asked.

“What?”

“A cherry popsicle,” EJ said, shuddering at what she was about to suggest. “How about we go get one and share it?”

“Share it, like Isaac takes a lick and then you take a lick?” Dad asked, obviously shocked that EJ would think of such a thing.

“Uh, yeah.” EJ’s stomach lurched, and she wondered if she’d actually be able to go through with it. “I’m not letting chicken pox get in the way of camp!”

The shared popsicle seemed to do the trick, because forty-eight hours later a tickle started in EJ’s throat. And in three days, chicken pox had arrived in full force—fever, itchy red bumps, and all. Chicken pox was downright miserable. Not only did EJ feel sick, but she was constantly uncomfortable and wanted to scratch every inch of her skin. Even the cream Mom put on the bumps to help soothe the itchiness didn’t take the feeling completely away.

Since Isaac was a few days ahead of EJ in the chicken pox cycle, he started to feel better sooner than she did. The first day he was out of bed, he sneaked into her room uninvited.

July 5

Dad built a swing set in the backyard the spring after I was born. A swing, a baby swing, a trapeze bar, monkey bars, and a clubhouse with a slide. Over the years, Isaac and I have spent so many hours out there—when we wanted to play outside and when Mom and Dad made us play outside because we were driving them nuts—and I have a ton of fun memories from those times. But the truth is, the swing set is too small for us now. (In other words, it’s lamesauce.)

So Dad came up with a great idea for a project he’s calling “The Swing Set Switcharoo.” All winter Dad, Isaac, and I worked on plans for how we were going to take the individual pieces of the swing set and create something brand-new: a tree house in the huge oak tree in the backyard. I’m talking a sweet rope ladder, fireman’s pole, front door, curtains in the windows—all with a bird’s-eye view of the entire neighborhood. Dad says every kid needs a home away from home, and there’s nothing wrong with making it totally cool! (Seriously, my dad is the best.)