Politically Incorrect (14 page)

“It’s not that. The speech is great,” Tricia continued. “I don’t think I want to do it . . .
at all
.”

Sloan’s face went from flushed to crimson red. Tricia’s speech was supposed to be the big event at the festival. People from all over town were looking forward to hearing the president’s daughter. Sloan could feel a panic attack creeping up at any second.

Miles noticed how anxious Sloan looked and stepped in.

“Sure you do, Tricia,” Miles said. “There are lots of folks who are really excited to see you tomorrow.”

Tricia stared at the paper on the podium as if she were trying to make the pages disappear with the power of her mind.

Sloan’s head was pounding. After all that had gone down with Chelsea and Natalie, she just didn’t have the strength or energy to duke it out with anyone else, let alone the First Daughter.

“I don’t want to let anybody down, but . . .” Tricia trailed off, her head hanging low.

“Okay, Tricia, you don’t have to do the speech if you don’t want to,” Sloan said. Miles’s mouth hung open in shock.

“Thanks, Sloan. I’m sorry about this.” Tricia gave Sloan a weak smile.

Sloan just nodded her head, totally resigned.

“What are you doing?” Miles asked her in a whisper.

Sloan merely shrugged as Tricia walked off the stage and out the door with nothing more said than a simple, “See ya.”

Miles got up and gaped at Sloan as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed.

“Okay, I’m going to recap the last few minutes, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it,” he said. “Tricia just came out here, said she didn’t want to do the speech, and then you said it was okay for her to bail. Correct?”

Sloan nodded. “Correct.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “People are expecting to see her tomorrow. The event was on the flyers and everything.”

Sloan’s stomach grumbled so loudly that she crossed her arms over it, hoping that would quiet it down. “I know, but what was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you could have asked her why?” Miles asked.

“What’s the point?” Sloan could feel tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Well, for one, the Green Festival means so much to you. I thought you might want it to go as you’d planned,” Miles said.

“A lot of things haven’t gone as planned,” Sloan said, putting her face in her hands. “I just feel like I can’t count on anyone.”

“I think you forgot something,” Miles said, his voice gentle and caring.

Sloan looked up from her hands. “What’s that?” “You can count on me.” Miles grinned.

Sloan couldn’t stop her cheeks from blushing. He was the sweetest guy ever!

“Thanks, Miles,” Sloan said. “I feel real lucky to have you as a friend.”

“I’m lucky, too,” he replied, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Could you just do me one favor?”

“Sure,” Sloan said, a hint of a smile inching across her face.

“Keep your pretty chin up,” Miles said.

Sloan had to admit, Miles knew just what to say to make her feel better. She also had to admit that she needed to encourage Tricia not to back out of the speech—there was just too much riding on it. But doing so would mean having to talk to someone that she wasn’t too fond of at the moment. Nevertheless, Sloan was determined not to throw in the towel.

Not yet, anyway.

“Connor, could you hold the Styrofoam container a little bit higher above your head while Joanna and I are reciting the poem?”

Natalie had gathered with a couple of her friends at the rock garden to rehearse her short skit, “Be a Litter Quitter.” Their counselor Ellie was helping out with the music and props, which Natalie had rescued from the trash—gross, yes, but also necessary.

“Come on, Nat, we’ve been practicing forever. My arm is getting tired and I smell like a two-day-old Big Mac,” Connor complained.

“Yeah, I don’t want to miss the organic corn- grilling contest,” Joanna whimpered. “Dr. Steve needs people to root for him.”

“This skit has to be perfect, guys, and we’re still messing up the end,” Natalie said firmly.

“Why don’t you try it one more time,” Ellie suggested gently. She was standing off to the side watching her campers rehearse.

“Fine,” Connor and Joanna muttered in unison.

Natalie smiled, glad that they would have the chance to perfect the ending. She wanted the skit to be perfect because she was hoping that it would help patch things up between her and Sloan. Natalie sill felt horrible for disappointing her, and she wanted to make things right.

Natalie hadn’t seen too much of Chelsea since their blowup outside the tent, which thankfully no one had heard. Sloan had done them both a big favor by not turning them in to Dr. Steve. Even so, Natalie couldn’t get over Chelsea’s behavior. Accident or no accident, Chelsea could have damaged Camp Walla Walla’s reputation for years to come. What Natalie had done wasn’t excusable, but it wasn’t as bad as that.

“Great, one more time, then,” she replied. Then Natalie pointed to Ellie. “Start the music, please.”

Ellie pressed play on the portable CD player that they had borrowed from the resource center and a funky beat echoed out from the speakers. Natalie, Joanna, and Connor marched in a line, holding pieces of nonbiodegradable refuse, and prepared to recite a poem that went along with the song. However, just as Natalie was about to dive into the first stanza, the CD started skipping.

“Sorry, Natalie. I’m having some technical difficulties over here,” Ellie proclaimed.

Connor stepped out of line and wandered over to Ellie to see what was the matter. He took the CD out of the player and examined it. “Yeah, we’ve got a problem.”

Natalie’s shoulders hunched forward in frustration. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a scratch on the disc. We’re going to need to burn another CD,” he explained.

“Does that mean practice is over?” Joanna said, a little too enthusiastically.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “For now, I guess. Let’s meet back here in an hour and a half.”

“Yay! I’m going to get some grilled corn,” Joanna said, sprinting off as fast as she could.

“Me too,” said Connor right before he ran after Joanna.

“The skit is good, Nat. Don’t worry so much,” Ellie reassured her.

“Thanks,” Natalie said. She wanted to believe what Ellie was saying, but she had a feeling her counselor was just humoring her.

“I’m going to the resource center to make a new CD,” Ellie said. “Why don’t you take the props back to your bunk and then join the others at the festival?”

Natalie shrugged. “All right.”

Once Ellie left the rock garden, Natalie began to clean up the props and put them in a clean garbage bag. She started thinking about everything that had transpired since the first day of camp. A swell of guilt and unhappiness was building inside of her that she just wasn’t sure she’d be able to contain. She’d let Sloan down by taking a shortcut in the essay contest; she’d made Chelsea so upset that she almost endangered Camp Walla Walla’s image; she’d even ratted out Tricia so that she wouldn’t look bad in front of her friends.

Natalie swallowed hard. Was she the most selfish girl at camp or what?

A voice interrupted her thoughts. “Hey, Nat.”

Natalie whipped around and saw Sloan standing with her hands behind her back.

“Hi, Sloan,” Natalie mumbled. She was surprised that Sloan had found her here, and that she wasn’t at the festival, enjoying all that she had accomplished this past week.

“I just saw a little bit of your skit,” Sloan said through a belabored half smile. “I hope you don’t mind. Jasmine told me that you were practicing here.”

Natalie’s stomach churned. Sloan looked as though she was forcing herself to be nice right now, which led Natalie to believe that her friend wasn’t ready to make up.

“We still need to work out some of the kinks.”

“Actually, I think it’s pretty good,” Sloan said flatly.

“Thanks,” Natalie said. “If it weren’t for you, Tricia and I would still be in lots of trouble instead of participating in the festival.”

“That’s what I came to talk with you about,” Sloan said.

Natalie’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Okay.”

“Tricia told me earlier today she doesn’t want to do her speech anymore,” Sloan explained.

Natalie reeled back in shock. “What? She can’t quit the day before her speech.”

“Well, she did,” Sloan said, sighing.

“Did she say why?”

“No, and I didn’t want to pry, so I just told her it was okay if she didn’t want to do it.”

Natalie’s eyes widened. “But . . . what will Dr. Steve say? He’s been publicizing this all over town.”

Sloan bit her lip nervously. “I didn’t think that far ahead. I was just so disappointed that she was backing out on me that I gave in without even trying to convince her.”

Natalie felt a little piece of her heart break off. Sloan had been let down so much the past couple of days. This skit wasn’t going to be enough to make things up to her, especially after this kind of setback.

“That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could talk to Tricia, since you two are so close and everything,” Sloan said.

The rest of Natalie’s heart started racing. She was almost sure that Tricia didn’t want to give the speech because she was embarrassed about the fast-food garbage heap.

Then another realization came down on Natalie like a thundering rainstorm. She’d argued that she told Tricia about the Oprah shirt because she was trying to help Chelsea. But maybe Natalie had been more concerned with helping
herself
. She’d wanted a break from Tricia so badly that she’d outed Chelsea in the hopes that it would get the president’s daughter off her back. In a way, she had done the same thing with Tricia, too—she’d told her friends about Tricia’s bad habits to guard her own rep.

“I’d love to help you out, Sloan,” Natalie said, her voice wavering a smidge. She needed to get a lot of stuff of her chest, and she hoped Sloan would listen. “But there’s something else—”

“Sorry, Nat. I have to get back to the festival,” Sloan cut her off, not rudely, but abruptly.

Natalie’s stomach tied into a knot. Apparently Sloan wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say. “Okay. I’ll go find Tricia and talk to her.”

“Thanks,” Sloan said softly. Then she headed down the trail that led back to the main promenade without looking back.

The other cochairperson of the Green Festival was MIA early Sunday afternoon, the second day of the Festival. Chelsea had graciously volunteered to relieve Holly, one of the junior CITs, of her two-hour shift at the nature hut so she could sing in the Walla Walla folk group. Even though Chelsea wasn’t too fond of critters and was sad to be missing some of the festival, it was a good swap for her. Chelsea had been laying super low after her clash with Sloan and Natalie on Thursday night. She knew she couldn’t hide forever, but right now, while the three of them were in the midst of a cold war, she was better off staying on the sidelines.

As Chelsea fed the turtles and fish in their brand-new energy efficient aquariums, she tried to sort out all the conflicting feelings in her heart. On the one hand, she felt awful for breaking Natalie’s confidence about the essay out of pure spite, and for being jealous of how well Natalie and Tricia were getting along. On the other hand, Chelsea still felt like Natalie had wronged her and that she deserved some kind of payback. The only person who was innocent in all this was poor Sloan. It would probably be a while before she could trust either Chelsea or Natalie again.

A series of high-pitched barks shook Chelsea out of her thoughts. She wandered over where the rabbit cages were lined up and saw Tricia’s precious Cavadoodle panting inside a large, mesh crate. Chelsea saw that the dog’s water bottle was nearly empty, so she refilled it from the tap. She took a quick moment to ruffle Paris’s fur and smiled.

“At least you’re not mad at me,” Chelsea muttered.

But as soon as Chelsea closed the door to the crate, Paris started barking again.

“Maybe I spoke too soon.”

Chelsea peeked at Paris’s dog food bowl and observed that there was plenty of puppy chow in it. Then she checked out the newspaper lining the mesh crate, which was totally clean. Eventually she put two and two together and decided that Paris most likely wanted to go out for a walk. But since there was no one else to keep watch of the place, Chelsea figured that it was best to just loop Paris around the hut a few times.

“Okay, okay. I’m getting your leash, hold on,” she said to Paris, who continued to yelp.

Chelsea took the dog’s hot pink leash off a hook on the wall and opened the door to Paris’s crate.

“Are you ready to get some exercise, girl?”

But before Chelsea could attach Paris’s leash to her collar, the door flew open. It was Holly, back from her stint on the festival circuit.

“Hey, Chelsea, you doing okay?” she asked.

Before Chelsea could answer, Paris leaped from her cage and bolted right past Holly and out the door.

“Paris! No!” Chelsea yelled as she watched the dog sprint away.

Holly was beside herself. “I’m so sorry!”

But Chelsea didn’t have time to calm Holly down. She had to chase after Paris and catch her before she got lost. If she didn’t find her, she would be even higher up on Tricia’s hate list!

Chelsea pumped her legs and arms harder than she had on the day of the canoe race. She jumped over stray logs and through bushes, keeping Paris in her sights at all times. But no matter how fast she ran, Paris was always a few steps ahead of her.

It wasn’t long before Chelsea realized that Paris was headed straight for the promenade, where the Green Festival was being held. She needed to nab her before she got lost in the crowd, or even worse, hurt herself. Tricia would never forgive Chelsea if something bad happened to her precious dog!