Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 (13 page)

Oh, I'm plenty warm now. Holding hands, we wade into the water. He uses his non-holding hand to lift the rope that blocks off the dolphin section. “Ready? Let's dunk.”

He lets go of my hand (sigh!) and dives under the water. When he surfaces, he smiles devilishly and then sends a tsunami of a splash over my body.

“Oh, now you're in trouble.” I spray him right back.

We continue splashing each other until Rose blows her whistle and yells, “Quiet on the beach! Buddy call!”

Behind us, a couple of girls from the Monkey unit scream, “One!”

Kids holler
two
through
ten,
and then Raf winks at me. “Eleven!” we scream in unison.

We're a couple! Can it get any better than this?

We swim and laugh and splash through two more buddy calls, then they order all the swimmers out of the lake and force us back into bunk lines.

“See you later,” Raf says.

“See you later,” I echo happily.

As I sit solo in my line on the sand, I scan the beach contentedly, a dreamy smile plastered on my face.

“Thanks a lot,” I hear.

I look up to see Miri standing above me, glaring. “What?” I ask.

“I asked you to be my buddy, and you said no. But you went swimming with Raf.”

Oh, crap. “Mir, I'm sorry. Really. But he asked me and—”

“I asked you too.”

“You didn't technically; you just said—”

“Whatever, Rachel,” she interrupts. “I had no one to go swimming with. I'm mad at you.”

I stand up, my towel wrapped around me, and hug her. “I'm sorry. Really. But it was Raf,” I whisper. “Try to understand.”

“Humph.” She does not hug me back.

“You can't stay mad at me.”

“Bunk lines, everyone, bunk lines!” Rose orders.

“I'll see you at free play,” I say. “There's going to be cupcakes. You can't come if you're still mad at me.”

No response.

“Did I mention that they're chocolate?”

“All right, but only because of the cupcakes,” she says, then returns to her own bunk line.

I stifle a yawn. All this excitement has made me exhausted. Maybe I'll take a nap instead of showering. The lake water is probably pretty clean.

“I peed in the lake again!” I hear one of the Koala boys yell.

Or not.

9
PASS THE POPCORN

After two weeks at camp, I feel like I've been here a year.

The junk food is long gone, my bed no longer feels strange (although it does still feel a little bit lumpy), I'm getting used to going to morning flagpole in my pajamas and washing my face in cold water, and I've somehow managed to find time to write my mom, my dad, and Tammy at least three letters each.

Every sunny, beautiful day is pretty much the same.

Now Poodles, Alison, and I are at A&C, sitting at a table, making lanyard bracelets. I'm just getting the hang of butterfly, the easiest stitch, which requires only three strands of the multicolored plastic lanyard, while Poodles and Alison are whipping through the more advanced techniques, like square and circle, which require four.

“The West Coast just has a relaxed vibe,” Poodles says, explaining why she's not planning on applying to any schools on the East Coast.

“But Manhattan is super-cool,” Alison says.

“I know,” Poodles says. “I love to visit. But I don't think I could ever be a real New Yorker. I don't own enough black.”

“You have enough attitude,” Alison says with a laugh.

“True. But my entire extended family lives in L.A. too. My aunts and uncles, their kids . . . I'm pretty close to them. I don't think I'd want to live somewhere without any roots. Do you have a lot of family in New York?”

“Not so much,” I say. We don't see any of my mom's family. Her parents passed away a long time ago, and her relationship with her sister, Sasha, is a bit of a mystery. They got into a major fight years and years ago, when I was still a baby, and they haven't spoken since. It's the big family secret—which my mom refuses to share.

“I have a lot of family in New York, but we barely see them,” Alison says. “Everyone's too busy.”

“Would either of you ever consider moving out to California?”

“Maybe for college,” I say, screwing up my stitch yet again and undoing it. “I do hate winters.”

“What do you want to study?” Alison asks me.

“Well . . .” Here's where I sound really geeky. “I kind of like math.”

“Really? That is so cool,” Poodles says. “Do you want to be an engineer?”

“I haven't decided,” I say. Am I dumb if I don't really know what an engineer does? “Maybe I'll be a mathematician. Math professor? I'm good with numbers.”

“What's twenty-two times thirty-three?” Poodles asks.

I close my eyes to calculate. “Seven hundred twenty-six,” I say, opening them.

Poodles puts down her lanyard, impressed. “Twenty-seven times eighty-seven?”

“Two thousand three hundred forty-nine.”

“Holy crap,” Poodles says, laughing. “Fifty-two times—”

“She's not a monkey,” Alison says.

Now I laugh. “What do you guys want to be?”

“I want to be a producer,” Poodles says. “Like everyone else in L.A.”

“I thought everyone in L.A. wanted to act,” I say.

“They do. At first. Then they want to produce.”

“You, Alison?” I ask.

“Physician,” she says.

“Perfect!” I squeal. “I could use a new doctor. Mine still makes happy faces on my arm before he gives me my shots. When can you start?”

“In like fifteen years?”

“Damn,” Poodles says, shaking her head. “I just screwed up a stitch. This has to be perfect.” She leans over to us so that only we can hear what she says next. “I'm making it for Harris.”

Natalie and Kristin have signed up for A&C too, and they're only a table away.

“You're making Harris a bracelet?” I ask. “Isn't that girly?”

Poodles bites one of her strands to tighten it. “It's the thought that counts. And I'm using black lanyard to make it macho.”

“Do you think I should make Raf a bracelet?”

Poodles glances at my disembodied attempt at butterfly and grimaces. “Why don't you hold off a week or so? Until you've had more practice. It's not always the thought that counts.”

“But I think I might have to make it more obvious that I like him,” I say. Raf and I sat next to each other at last night's evening activity, which was “The Price Is Right.” Then we hung out until curfew. We talked, we laughed, we joked. Basically we did everything couples do.

Except kiss.

“If you were any more obvious, you'd be wearing a sign,” Alison jokes.

“Ha-ha. Maybe he just doesn't like me?”

Poodles shakes her head. “I've known Raf a long time, and I've never seen him spend so much time with one girl.”

I blush happily.

“It'll happen,” Poodles continues. “Maybe he's just waiting for the right moment. Or atmosphere.”

Or century.

The atmosphere can't get any more right than this.

It's a few days later, and after a full afternoon of ponchos and rain boots and indoor activities like pottery, drama, and dodgeball and SI (aka swimming instruction) in the indoor pool (which wasn't too bad, because the water was like a bath), it's movie night—the latest
Harry Potter
—in the CL (aka counselors' lounge). The CL is the only place at camp with a TV.

Janice is chewing a pink pen and flicking the lights on and off. “Find a spot. Let's go, let's go.”

Raf and I have already settled into a space at the back of the CL, along the rear wall. Since I brought a blanket with me (“Set the stage!” Poodles instructed), I offer to share. Wink, wink.

I was kind of hoping for a romantic comedy and not the story of my life. But maybe Raf will cuddle me during the scary parts?

Janice turns off the lights, presses Play, and sinks into the oversize saggy seen-better-days brown couch in the center of the room.

Twenty minutes into the movie, I feel Raf's arm around me. Yes, yes, yes! My entire body tingles. The lights are off and everyone is absorbed in the movie. We're going to kiss tonight. It's going to happen. I just know it's going to happen. His face is only a few inches away from mine. All he has to do is turn a bit to the right. He laughs at something on the screen—as if watching the movie is possible at a time like this!—and now his cheek is only about two inches from mine. All I have to do is turn my face.
Turn!

His laughing stops and I can hear his breathing. I can hear my own breathing too, and it's getting faster with every passing second, since my heart is beating a trillion times a minute.

I turn about a half inch. He turns about a half inch. I turn a quarter inch. He turns a quarter inch. Omigod, we're so close I can barely stand it. If we both stuck out our tongues, they would touch—which is kind of the point. Tongue-touching. I wonder what his tongue is going to feel like. I've touched only one tongue in my life and it was his brother's. Probably best not to think about other boys' tongues when I'm about to kiss someone.

My mouth is drier than a cactus. I hope it doesn't taste like a cactus. Not that I know what a cactus tastes like, but I'm willing to bet it's not tasty. Never mind prickly.

Now our lips are only about an inch apart! And now a half inch and here it comes; it's really going to happen—

Suddenly, there's a rush of cold, and the lights pop on.

“Aaaah!” everyone screams.

I snap my head back. Eyes blinded. Can't see.

Janice leaps off the couch. “Who did that?”

Raf pulls away like a scared cat.

We all turn to look at the light switch. “Did someone turn on the light?” Janice asks again. No one answers. Janice tries to switch the lights back off, but they won't budge.

Did I do that? Was I somehow so nervous about kissing Raf that I turned the lights on so it wouldn't happen? What is wrong with me?

“Maybe it was Harry Potter,” Blume says.

Everyone laughs. Everyone except me.

10
RAISING DVDs
IN THE CL

Crunch. The hairs on my arms stand at attention.

Just a twig, I tell myself. Nothing to be afraid of.

Crunch.

I run a little bit faster, just in case. I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to sneak through camp in the middle of the night. Oh, right, it's because I desperately and immediately need Miri's help.

I've finally found the path that leads between bunks one and three and am now trying to make my way to bunk two without a wild bear eating me first.

Ha-ha. There aren't really any bears at camp. Right?

Here it is. Bunk two. I creep up the wooden steps and close the invisibility shield—aka the enchanted umbrella. I gingerly open the door. Now all I have to do is figure out which bed is Miri's. I tiptoe around the cabin, peering into the top bunks at the faces of Miri's sleeping bunkmates.

In the moonlight, I recognize my sister's pale green comforter at the back, near the bathroom. “Miri,” I whisper. “Miri, wake up.”

When she doesn't respond, I poke her in the forehead.

My sister opens one eye. “What are you doing?”

“I need your help. Come outside with me.”

“What time is it?” she murmurs.

“Three a.m.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, just desperate. You were right. My powers are out of control. I need your help. I need some training.”

“Now?” she asks.

“You can't exactly train me in broad daylight, can you?”

“We're not allowed out of the bunks in the middle of the night! We're going to get into trouble.”

“We won't if nobody sees us.”

“What if someone's up?”

“Don't worry, I took care of that.” I wave our invisibility shield over her bed.

“You brought that to camp?”

“Of course I brought it!”

“You didn't tell me you were bringing it!”

What, is she crazy? “Did you think I was going to leave a great toy like this at home?” I think not. “Come on!”

She climbs over the edge of the bed. “Am I allowed to get dressed?” She's wearing her blue Cookie Monster pajamas, which I can't believe I let her pack. At least she doesn't wear those to breakfast.

“Nah, let's just go.”

She grumbles and stuffs her feet into her flip-flops. Before we leave, she snags a gray pencil case from the shelf.

“You're not going to have time to write,” I snort.

“It's
A
²
.
Camouflaged.”

“No way!” I stifle a laugh as we hurry out the door. Why would she choose a pencil case? She's such a geek. I open the umbrella. Presto invisible.

“You didn't happen to pack our night-vision helmets, did you?” she asks.

Darn. I forgot about those. “No, unfortunately. But I brought something just as helpful.” I wave a flashlight in the air.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” Miri asks.

“How about the CL? It seems private.”

And the counselors' lounge is carpeted, so I'm less likely to get hurt if training involves my crashing to the floor.

When we finally get there, we open the creaky door and then sit cross-legged on the saggy couch. Miri places the pencil case on the ground, sticks her hand into her pocket, and takes out a bag of white flour. Flour?

“What is that?”

“Baby powder. Quiet for a sec?” She clears her throat and says:

“From a caterpillar, a butterfly you became.

Now let this powder absorb your change!”

As she sprinkles the powder on the pencil case, it stretches and morphs into
A
²
.
You know when you scrunch the paper wrapper off a straw and then drop water on it to watch it unravel? That's what it looks like. “Very cool.”

She heaves the insanely heavy book onto her lap. From the outside, it looks the size of a regular hardcover novel, but it's actually two feet deep. And it smells sour, like month-old milk. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“Good question.”

“Well, what's the problem?”

“I don't know! I can't seem to control my powers. Like tonight. Raf was about to kiss me during the movie—”

“Thanks a lot for saving me a seat.”

“Miri, you shouldn't be sitting with your sister. You should be sitting with your friends.”

She shrugs. “I don't have any.”

My heart sinks like a pound of lead. Even though she wasn't exactly Miss Popularity at home, I had kind of been hoping that things would be different here. “But why?”

She shrugs. “I told you. They've all been friends since they were seven.”

“But so has my bunk!”

“Maybe,” she squeaks, “but the girls in mine aren't interested in meeting new people.”

The high-pitched tone of her voice makes the back of my neck stiffen. “Are they being mean?”

Her face flushes. “A little. Whatever. I don't care. It's not like I have so many friends at home.”

“Not having friends is not the same as people being mean to you.”

Her eyes cloud over. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“You have to. I'm your sister.”

She starts picking at her nails, and this time I don't stop her. “Well, yesterday I woke up and they were dipping my fingers in hot water to try to make me wet my bed or something. And today someone put shampoo in my running shoes. But maybe that was an accident—”

“Are you kidding me? How does shampoo accidentally end up in someone's sneakers?” My cheeks burn, and I slam my fist into a couch pillow.

Ow. I don't have much of a right hook.

“Whatever,” Miri says dismissively. “It doesn't matter. Honestly, I don't care. I don't want to waste time worrying about it. I want to be able to focus on helping the homeless when I get back, so I need to spend my free time researching.”

“But, Miri, they're only ostracizing you because you don't make an effort to talk to them!”

She rolls her eyes. “But I don't even like them. Why would I make an effort?”

“Maybe if you talk to your counselors—”

“That would only make things worse.” She juts out her chin. “I didn't come all the way here in the middle of the night to discuss my problems. Can we get back to yours?”

Although I'd rather keep talking about her, I don't want to upset her. “My powers are out of whack,” I tell her, changing the subject. “When I use my raw will, what I want to happen doesn't always end up happening.”

“That's what
A
²
is for.”

“I know, I know. But it's not just that. When I get emotional, my magic goes nuts. For instance, I was so nervous about kissing Raf that I zapped on the lights.”

“You were the one who turned them on?”

“Yes! It must have been me. My heart was beating like crazy and—” Pause. I wasn't the only person with magical powers in here tonight. Is it possible that Miri was trying to sabotage my first kiss with Raf? Maybe she's worried that my relationship with Raf will make her feel even lonelier. Nah, she wouldn't do that to me. “Well, since
you
didn't do it”—I give her a meaningful look in case there's anything she wants to admit—“it must have been me. So I need to learn to control my powers. Did you ever have this problem?”

“Never. I guess I'm a more mature witch.”

Like it's not annoying enough to have to ask my little sister for help—she has to rub it in. “Can you check the book to see if there's some sort of control technique I can use?”

She spreads open the book and flips through the wisp-thin pages. “Like an exercise?”

“Exactly.”

“You need to be magic trained. Like toilet trained.”

“Let's not get graphic.”

“Maybe I should find you a magic diaper.”

“Miri, I'd cut down on the toilet-training jokes if I were you. Don't forget that I am two years older and therefore have a very detailed memory of the time you ripped off your diaper and peed all over the living room fl—”

“I found something.”

“Already?”

“I'm super-quick. Give me two seconds to read it.”

I tap my sneakered foot for two seconds. “Finished?”

She ignores me.

“Hello?”

“Shush!” She continues reading and then looks up. “Okay, it'll work.”

“Terrif. What is it?”

“It's called a megel.”

“A what?”

“A megel exercise. You have to practice stopping the flow of your raw will. It'll make your magic muscles stronger.”

“How do you do that?”

She points to the umbrella, which I left by the door. “See if you can mind-lift it.”

“Um, I'm willing to play along here, but since the umbrella is my favorite toy, can I use something else as my guinea pig?”

She stands up. “Try the couch. It looks like it's already been through several megels.”

“Too heavy.”

She spins around, eyeing megel-able items. “The TV.”

“What if I drop it?”

She skips over to the DVD player and picks up the
Harry Potter
DVD case. “Light enough for you?” She tosses it onto the carpet. “Go ahead.”

Hello, pressure. I focus on the case. I try to summon all the energy I can feel inside me, and suddenly my arms are covered with tiny goose bumps. I try to direct all this energy at the case—fly, Harry, fly!—and the plastic starts to quiver. It's working! It lifts just an inch off the ground—

“Freeze!” Miri orders. “Keep it right there. Can you do that?”

I try to do that, but the case is trembling like crazy, my arms and legs are shaking, and the next thing I know, the case pops open, soars to the ceiling, then crashes back to the ground.

“Whoops,” I say. “Sorry, Master Yoda. I have failed you.”

She giggles. “You need practice.”

No kidding. “But can't I practice using real
A
²
spells? They're easier to control, right? The words and ingredients do most of the work, so how much can I screw up?”

“True, they're easier to control, but they're also much stronger. And since your raw will is so out of whack, it could be dangerous. Who knows what you could wish up? Or down,” she adds, glancing at the broken DVD case on the floor.

Suddenly, we hear a loud creak outside the door.

“Someone's coming,” Miri whispers in a rush.

“What do we do?” I ask, panicked.

She's waving her hand toward the door. “I'm trying to”—she huffs and puffs—“keep it closed.”

“The door's stuck,” a guy outside says.

“Push harder,” says a second voice. A female voice.

“The invisibility shield!” Miri whispers, still struggling with the door.

Unfortunately, the umbrella is on the other side of the room. “It's too far away!” I try to use my raw will to float it over, but of course,
now
it won't work. “Can you zap it over?”

“Too tough”—huff—“to do”—puff—“two spells”—huff and puff—“at once! Use your feet!”

Oh, right. I forgot about those. I run over, pick up the umbrella, and ram it open just as Miri loses her battle. The door flies open as Miri dives next to me behind the umbrella.

“Good job,” says the female voice.

I can't see who it is, since the umbrella is blocking our view. But I recognize the voice. It's Deb's.

I hear the door close. Terrific. We're trapped. My counselor is about to make out with some guy, and I'm going to be stuck here until they're done.

I think I'd rather watch my mom and Lex than listen to this.

“Now give me a kiss,” I hear the guy say. He sounds like Anthony.

At least Deb has good taste.

Two hours later, Miri and I are finally free. Free, tired, and cranky.

“Next time we'll have to find somewhere with a little bit less traffic,” I say as we cross Upper Field. “Hey, look, the sun is rising over the mountains. Wanna go down to the lake and watch?”

“Sure, why not?”

We scurry down to the waterfront. The lake is as still as a mirror but brimming with streaks of yellow and orange and blue. We leave our shoes on the sand, sit on the dock, and dangle our feet in the cool water.