Witch Twins (13 page)

Gorgeous Lakshmi.

Now Luna revised her list. Gorgeous Lakshmi, Who Hates Me.

Luna pushed herself closer to the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was scared to be hissed at or kicked again. But just as she was about to fall asleep, she imagined that she was dropping off the side of the mountain, and (in spite of herself) she must have let out a very loud moan-mutter.

Below, Lakshmi gave a fed-up noise and muttered something herself. Something mean, Luna bet.

The next morning, Luna climbed down from her bunk, too humiliated to look at Lakshmi. She felt too shy even to apologize for keeping her awake. At breakfast, she watched out of the corner of her eye, ready to duck if Lakshmi decided to confront her. Which she probably would. Luna could sense that while Lakshmi was a quiet type, she was not meek. And while she kept to herself, Lakshmi didn’t seem lonely. In fact, Lakshmi didn’t seem to want to be at Camp Bliss at all.

Luna avoided Lakshmi until after breakfast. As soon as Claire got up from the table, Luna followed to sidle up behind her twin.

“You know that girl, Lakshmi? She hates me,” she whispered.

“Lakshmi who?” Claire looked around.

“Lakshmi the Gorgeous Indian Girl. Don’t look.”

“Oh.” Since Lakshmi was the only Indian girl at camp, Claire looked straight at her. Lakshmi stared straight back.

“Hi.” Claire waved.

“Which one of you kept me up all night with your stomachache?” Lakshmi asked in her loud voice. “If you do it again tonight, I’m asking for a bed switch. No offense, but I need my sleep.” She yawned.

“My sister has top-bunk sickness. She was scared to be up so high.’”

“I was dizzy. Not scared,” Luna corrected.

“Oh.” Lakshmi gave Luna a quick once-over, then turned her attention back to Claire.

“My sister’s really good at drawing, though,” Claire said. “She drew a picture of our kittens, and it was so cute.”

“Uh, okay.” Lakshmi shrugged.

“I’m Claire,” Claire continued. “And
if
you really want to tell us apart, Luna’s got a teensy little chicken-pox scar under her chin. See?”

Lakshmi squinted, then saw. “You shouldn’t have scratched,” she said.

How terrible, Luna thought, to have an ugly chicken-pox chin and be lectured to by a girl with a gorgeous cleft chin! She stared down at her feet and rubbed her finger over her scar and said nothing.

“Watch this,” said Claire. She jumped out of line, stretched into a handstand, and walked on her hands.

“Hey, that’s pretty expert,” said Lakshmi.

“You’re from Los Angeles, right?” asked Claire when she came right side up again.

“Yeah,” said Lakshmi. “I took a plane here. Five hours, all by myself.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oops! I’ve got to go to the office to call my dad and let him know I’m safe. I was supposed to do that yesterday.”

“Put your tray on mine,” said Claire, reaching for it. “I’ll dump it for you.”

Lakshmi handed over her tray. “Thanks! See you later.”

Claire waved. “Bye.” Lakshmi jogged off.

“See, Loon? She doesn’t hate you.” Claire smiled confidently. “The way I figure it, every one would always rather be buddies.”

Luna nodded. It was difficult to explain to her twin that she did not have Claire’s same knack for making friends. Claire thought friends just appeared from nowhere on a sunny day and stuck naturally, like freckles.

After breakfast, the counselors and cabins scattered for Early Meeting. That was when special announcements were made. Some counselors picked scenic spots by the tennis courts or Lake Periwinkle. Pam picked under a scrawny fir tree by the parking lot.

“Form a semicircle around me!” shouted Pam. Then she blew into her whistle. Of all the counselors, Pam seemed to be the most excited to use her whistle. She blasted it a lot.

Luna thought about sitting next to Lakshmi. Everyone would rather be buddies, she reminded herself. She sort of smiled at Lakshmi, who sort of smiled back. Chunky Penelope would be easier to sit next to, Luna thought. Penelope was so shy, and she looked like a girl who would be grateful for a buddy. Gorgeous Lakshmi would not be grateful. Luna could tell just by the way she was flopped at the edge of the grass, her ankles crossed, leaning back on her elbows and not noticing anybody.

Luna sat down next to Penelope.

“Hi,” she said. Penelope smiled gratefully.

Pam blew into her whistle again. “Listen up, sports fans!” she said. “As you know, for the next five weeks, I run Sleepy Hollow. And this summer, as a senior counselor, I’ve decided to implement a new policy.”

Luna gave Claire a thumbs-up, since implement was the word that Claire had won the fifth-grade spelling bee with this past spring. Claire was nuts about words. Claire gave a thumbs-up back.

“Twins!” shouted Pam, with a chirp on the whistle. “Please don’t send each other cutesy hand signals while I’m talking. Understood?”

They nodded solemnly. Pam continued. “Here’s my policy. We’re going to pool our resources. That means each person has to donate to the Sleepy Hollow Cabin Fund. A certain something you brought from home that will be used by the whole cabin. Nothing big. I’m talking about a bottle of hand lotion, a sun visor, or maybe some homemade brownies your parents packed. Stuff like that. It’s a great way for everyone to share! So check your trunks, your bags, or maybe even your pockets for something useful.”

Pam unfolded a white pillowcase that she had been carrying. “I’m leaving this pillowcase by the door of our cabin. Let’s have nine donations in it by lunch. I’ll go first.” She took a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. “This is my spare pair, with UV-ray protection. For the next five weeks, anyone can use them.” She dropped the sunglasses into the pillowcase. “Who’s next?”

There was a silence.

Then a voice rang out, loud and stubborn. “No way.”

The voice belonged to Lakshmi. Heads turned. Lakshmi brushed the grass from her hands. She was not smiling.

“Excuse me?” Pam fumbled at her whistle, although it was not exactly a whistle-blowing moment.

“I’m not donating to your pillowcase fund. All my stuff belongs to me.”

There was a stirring of whispers. Luna let out a breath of relief. She didn’t want to donate any of her things, either. She was a careful person, and she knew she had not packed anything for Camp Bliss that she wanted to share.

Pam smiled, but she looked annoyed. “Wow, Lakshmi, you’re a party poop,” she said in a falsely cheerful voice. “Anyone else want to be a party poop? Speak up, people!”

Silence.

Luna watched Pam, enjoying the look on her face, which was bright red and a touch scared. Maybe she was just starting to realize what a stupid idea this pillowcase fund was. Forcing people to share! As the silence lengthened, Luna bit her lip to hold back her smile.

“I have a box of saltwater taffy, and I hate saltwater taffy.” Ella spoke up. “My mom put it in my trunk instead of my brother’s by mistake.” She shrugged. “I’ll donate that.”

“Aaawwl
right! Now we’re
talk
ing!” Pam whooped.

A couple of girls clapped.

“I’ve got a family-size tin of echinacea mints,” said Claire. “They ward off respiratory diseases and they taste great, too!”

She said the last part in a goofy voice, and the girls laughed.

“I’ve got three bottles of sunscreen. My family always uses it when we go to our house in Bermuda,” said Haley. “It’s made with jojoba and hazelnut extract. It doesn’t give you that greasy feel.”

Luna looked over appreciatively. She hated-hated-hated her greasy sunscreen.

Penelope offered her radio with headset.

Min Suh donated the use of her special tennis racket, the same kind used by Venus Williams.

“I already have a way-nice tennis racket,” said Haley. “How does that work for me?”

“It’s a totally awesome donation!” said Pam. But Min Suh looked worried.

“What about my coconut shampoo?” she offered.

There was a show of hands. The tennis racket won over the shampoo.

Glad offered free foot massages.

“That’s not really a donation,” said Pam. “That’s more like a service.”

So Glad offered her fruit-leather snacks. “Made with no processed sugar and lots of love,” she declared, and Luna got the feeling that everyone wanted the foot massages back.

Which left Luna and Lakshmi.

“Let me think about it,” said Luna. “I can’t figure it out right this second.”

“Like I said, I’m donating nothing,” said Lakshmi in her customary calm, loud voice.

“Then you’re using nothing, okay?” Pam said. “It’s not your fund if you don’t contribute.” Her face wore the relaxed, ear-to-ear grin of victory.

Lakshmi shrugged. She seemed completely unconcerned.

“Gosh, why does she have to be such a party poop?” murmured Penelope. Other girls looked over at Lakshmi reproachfully.

Lakshmi stood her ground. She did not seem to care a fig what people thought of her. Luna liked that, and she wished she had sat next to Lakshmi, after all. Then they would have been a team against Pam. A resistance.

After the meeting, when they were walking down to the field house to pick bikes for a morning ride, Luna screwed up her courage. She fell into step beside Lakshmi.

“I don’t want to give anything to the Cabin Fund, either,” she said.

“Luckily, it’s optional,” said Lakshmi.

“I feel really out of place here,” Luna said, clearing her throat.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t you?”

Lakshmi stopped walking. “Why do you say that? Because I’m the only one here who’s Indian American?” she asked. Not in a mean way, but her voice was loud.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Luna said hastily. Her face felt hot.

“Then what
did
you mean?”

Luna had no idea what to answer. “I just meant … I don’t know,” she squeaked. “See ya later.” She stumbled ahead, feeling stupid and hoping that Penelope would be around somewhere.

It was too horrible. Her one chance to be buddies, maybe even to make an all-weather friend, and she’d blown it.

I was born in 1970 in my mother’s hometown of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I was the oldest of three children, and spent my early childhood as a “military brat,” moving between bases in North Carolina, California, Panama, and Rhode Island. I returned to Pennsylvania for high school, and then attended college at the University of Pennsylvania. After earning a bachelor of arts and sciences degree in 1993, I eagerly answered a “help wanted” ad in the
New York Times
and an “apartment rentals” ad in the
Village Voice
. That same week, I secured both my first job and my first apartment. I began working for Macmillan Children’s Books as an editorial assistant; living two blocks away from the office ensured that I didn’t get lost on my commute.

While balancing days working in the editorial department with nights writing fiction, I discovered my abiding love of New York City, and knew that I would want to live there for the long haul. At Macmillan, and later Hyperion Books for Children, I read old favorites and new favorite fiction for younger readers, and in doing so rediscovered classic stories that had been so riveting in my youth. I was particularly enthralled to connect with Robert Cormier, an author whose work I idolized when I was a child—years later, I got to spend a day with him at Simmons College. It wasn’t long before I completed my first novel,
Rainy Season
(1996), which was accepted by Houghton Mifflin & Co. A semi-autobiographical account of family life on an army base in Panama, the book was recommended by
Publishers Weekly
as a “Flying Start” notable debut. My second book,
Split Just Right
(1997), told the story of a bohemian single mother raising her daughter. My third book,
Sons of Liberty
, a drama set in New England that addressed child abuse, was nominated for the National Book Award in 1997. I followed this novel with a contemporary supernatural story,
The Other Shepards
(1998), and then
Dive
(1999), a novel that grappled with the real-life unexpected death of my stepbrother, Jason.

Turning to more lighthearted fare, I created a middle-grade series, Witch Twins, about identical twins living in Philadelphia (based on my nieces) who work to become “five-star” witches—with some help from their eccentric, spell-casting grandmother. The four-book series includes
Witch Twins
,
Witch Twins at Camp Bliss
,
Witch Twins and Melody Malady
, and
Witch Twins and the Ghost of Glenn Bly
. I also completed
Amandine
(2001), a novel loosely based on Lillian Hellman’s chilling play
The Children’s Hour
. Themes of friendship, deceit, and betrayal surfaced again in my next book,
Overnight
(2003), about a sleepover that goes horribly wrong.

In
Hannah, Divided
(2002), I tried my hand at historical fiction, crafting a story of a young math prodigy living in 1930s rural Pennsylvania, who then wins a scholarship to study in Philadelphia. In 2010, I returned to the genre with
Picture the Dead
, collaborating with my friend Lisa Brown, an author and illustrator, on an illustrated novel about Spiritualist photographers in the Civil War era.

In 2005, I received another National Book Award nomination for
Where I Want to Be
, a family-centered psychological drama with paranormal elements. The following year, I published a light, young adult romance titled
My Almost Epic Summer
. I also launched another middle grade series; this one, Vampire Island Stories, is about a family of vegan vampires living in New York City.

Family plays an important role in my fiction, and while I don’t consider myself a fantasy writer, I do enjoy adding a measure of the supernatural to otherwise realistic fiction. This blend runs through a number of my books, namely
The Other Shepards
,
Where I Want to Be, Picture the Dead
, and
Tighter
. I write stories that emphasize our lasting connections to those we have lost, and how our families—past and present—inform our everyday life in ways that can be both startling and steadfast.