I sat on my bunk and waited for the dinner bell to ring The boat thrummed, vibrated for a few seconds, then stopped completely. “All right! All right! Everybody out! Everybody out!” yelled the driver. The whole scene made me think of some classical book or movie. But I liked it. It made me think of how much I loved camp last year—how excited I’d been for months leading up to now to go back. I shoved the little sliver of homesickness that was already crowding into my throat and grinned. Things were starting to look familiar. There were hills covered in tiny dots of brownish-gray that would be our cabins. There was a colorful, big dining hall, big enough to feed eighty kids three times a day, with signs all over it that said Recycle or Camp Three Rivers 1990. And the counselors were lined up on the dock, ready to meet and greet us, ready to attempt to impress our parents. All of them wore T-shirts that said Camp Three Rivers on them in big blue block letters. Counselors. Last year I’d had the perfect counselor. Pretty. Young. Sweet. Smart, but not nerdy. Cool, but not stereotypical. I hoped for her. I prayed for her, despite my not being religious. I… “Zoe? Are… are you Zoe?” asked a voice, rapidly cutting off my stream of reminiscence. I looked up. It was a counselor. She was on the chubby side, smiling, and young. Looked nice. I nodded. “I’m Lyla,” she smiled-said. You know what I mean. When people say something, but you could really tell what they’re saying even if they weren’t saying it. Only people with big smiles can do this. Definitely not me. “It’s great to meet you,” Lyla said. “I’ll be your counselor this year!” I had no idea what to say. It’s not like, in that moment, I really could’ve said anything. I managed a weak smile. “Your cabin will be Heron Hill, and your junior counselor will be Emma,” she went on. “I’m so so glad to meet you! This’ll be the best session! Ever!” The cabin—my cabin—was small. Really small. I eyed my bed—the only bed left unoccupied. I eyed the kids playing outside. I looked up at my parents, and suddenly what used to be only a sliver of homesickness became a small, heavy coin, pushing, pushing, pushing me to beg my parents to take me back home. In five minutes, I thought, they’ll be gone. Gone—for twelve days! Twelve days with no Nicky to toss a ball with, no Dad to embarrass me in the supermarket, no Mom to brush my hair even when I don’t want her to… After my bed had been set up, and the goodbyes had been said, and I’d seen with my own eyes my parents walking down the steps and onto the boat, I stood there, perplexed, almost. I sat on my bunk and waited for the dinner bell to ring. The food was one of the elements at Camp Three Rivers that could never fail. It was always the same delicious, kid-friendly, home-cooked food that even the pickiest of the picky eaters loved. I’d get to meet the rest of my cabin at dinner. I’d start to settle in. * * * “So,” I said, thirty minutes later, sitting around a table with the rest of my cabin, plus Lyla and Emma, our junior counselor, “what’s everyone named?” We went around. “Emily.” “Nora.” “Lily.” “Meghan.” Suddenly, a girl opened the door to the dining hall, looked around, smirked, and came over to our table. “I’m Mia,” she said. She didn’t just say it. She said it in a way that lets you know who’s boss. I shrunk back a little. Paranoid, I know—but better safe than sorry. I decided I’d keep my profile low around Mia. “Oh,” said Lyla. “Hi, Mia. Have a seat.” She stood for a minute, staring at us like there was something obvious that we were forgetting to do. “Move,” she finally said to me. Not wishing to make an enemy on the first day of camp, I obliged. “Nice… hair,” I told her, trying to make peace. It was. It was long and golden and highlighted pinkish-red. “The highlights are nice.” Mia scoffed and didn’t say anything. Not a good sign. * * * The rest of the week went on. I rode a boat, made some nice friends, drew outside or in the art shed, and tried to tell myself that everything was going great. But it wasn’t. Whenever I walked into the cabin, be it bed, changing into a bathing suit for free swim, getting ready for dinner, or fetching something that I’d forgotten in my trunk, Mia was there, ready to tease us, laugh at us, make mean remarks about us, annoy us, or tell us off. And she never ran out of ways to hurt people’s feelings. Never. “Write about what a great time you’re having!” my dad had said as we kissed each other goodbye. So I did. I wrote home every night about activities, about my newfound friends, Nora and Meghan, and the delicious dinners that Margot, the camp’s cook, had most recently prepared. I didn’t write anything about Mia. * * * One morning, as we were getting ready for breakfast, we were all sort of acting silly, playing around. Nora jumped on Mia’s bed. “Whee!” she shrieked. Mia laughed, too. That was one of the few times I’ve ever heard Mia laugh. Nora did it again, three times over. Everyone giggled. “Stop it,” said Mia. “Move. I have to put on my clothes.” Nora got off but kept giggling. She made a puppy face at Mia. “Just a little bounce?” she asked. Mia’s face turned stony. We all knew this wasn’t a good sign. “Nor-” I said, trying to warn her. “One more little, bitsy time?” Nora pleaded. “One more? Just one more?” “No!” Mia yelled. Then her face hardened
May/June 2011
Working for Sparkle
Suzy added the finishing touch and smiled There was no noise. Everything was silent except for birds chirping and leaves rustling. Off in the distance a bell rang. Suddenly, noise erupted as students came running out of Lake Heights Elementary eager to begin their summer. Only one child didn’t run out screaming and yelling. This child was an eight-year-old girl named Suzy. Suzy was an average-looking girl with cropped blond hair to her shoulders. She was doodling in her notebook, ignoring all the screams of delight around her. Suzy added the finishing touch and smiled, admiring the kitten looking up at her from her notebook. Pocketing it, Suzy skipped down the sidewalk towards home, daydreaming all the while. She thought of what she and her best friend, Emily, would do for the summer. Suzy was so busy thinking about swimming and playing soccer that she didn’t realize where she was going. Suzy snapped out of her trance as she heard a large truck go by. Looking around at her surroundings, she gulped. This definitely wasn’t her friendly neighborhood, but uptown. How on earth did I get here? she thought to herself nervously. The truck that had rumbled so noisily past her stopped at a building. On the side of the building she read: Humane S-so-ciety.” Suzy frowned. Humane Society? What’s that? she wondered curiously. Well, I need a telephone to call Mom and Dad, and it looks pretty friendly, so I guess there’s only one way to find out. Suzy walked over to the doors and, opening them, went inside. It was like her dream come true. Every inch of the room was filled with cats and dogs meowing and barking. “Wow,” she whispered in awe. Looking down the rows of the cages, one particular animal caught her eye. It was a tiny, adorable calico kitten that was looking at her pleadingly. Suzy walked over to its cage and reached out her hand. “Hello! Can I help you?” She spun around, an elderly lady was walking toward her with a big smile on her face. “No! I mean… yes!” said Suzy. “Er, do you have a telephone I could use?” “Certainly,” said the woman, indicating a pay phone on the wall. Suzy thanked her and placed a quarter in the phone. A few minutes later she hung up, relieved her parents were home and coming to get her. While she waited, the lady told Suzy all about the Humane Society. Suzy then went back to the kitten to look at it admiringly. It softly emitted a tiny meow. An idea suddenly occurred to her… Suzy saw her parents’ car outside and whispered to the kitten, “See you soon.” “Please!” cried Suzy for the fifth time in a row. “For the last time, no!” her mother exclaimed. “You’re not old enough, Suze,” her father said gently. They were back at Suzy’s house and she had just asked them about the calico kitten. “Would you please turn it down a notch!” snapped Suzy’s older brother, Mark, as he came into the kitchen wearing his headphones. “Rock music is much more interesting than an argument about a stupid kitten, and I can’t even hear it with my headphones on!” “Yes,” said Suzy’s mother, “this argument is over.” Suzy burst into tears. “That lady told me what they do with unwanted animals and you don’t even care!” she sobbed. Running up to her room, she slammed the door and threw herself on her bed. She stayed in her room the rest of the evening. The next day, Suzy told Emily about what happened the night before. Instead of acting angry at Suzy’s parents, however, Emily smiled. “Don’t worry, Suzy, I know how you can get that kitten.” That night, Suzy set to work on Emily’s idea. By doing chores around the house, she would show she was responsible enough for a kitten. Unfortunately, her parents had no idea what she was up to and just thought she was being helpful. After Suzy finished cleaning bathrooms, doing dishes, and washing windows, she was exhausted. Surprised, she happily accepted the money her father gave her with a proud smile. She did this every day until she had enough money to buy: a litter box, one bag of cat food, and some sand. Suzy knew her parents wouldn’t keep paying her to do housework, so she and Emily hung up posters around town reading: Keen to Be Clean? Call Suzy at 268- 5021. No one (to Suzy’s disappointment) hired her after they found out her age. Then one day her luck changed. After listening on the phone for a while, Suzy jumped up and yelled, “I’m hired!” With that she ran out of the house and went to Baker Street to meet her customer. “Go away, Mark!” she shouted Trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, Suzy rang the bell. The door opened and Suzy gasped. It was the elderly woman from the Humane Society! “I know you,” she said in surprise, “y-you’re the woman who…” “Yes, I’m Mrs. Wood,” said the woman. “Are you Suzy? The one who’s supposed to clean my house?” Suzy nodded. She noticed how Mrs. Wood’s eyes seemed to sparkle and felt she could trust this lady with the kind smile. She blurted out the whole story. Mrs. Wood listened carefully, then nodded as Suzy finished. “It sounds like you’ve been working up a storm dear, so please accept this and save that little kitten,” she said, taking Suzy’s hand and pressing a twenty-dollar bill into her palm. Suzy looked at it. There was even enough money to acquire a squeaky toy, plus everything else she needed. “B-but I haven’t cleaned anything for you!” “Oh, don’t worry about that, something tells me you’d be a lovely owner for that calico kitten.” When Suzy got home Mark was in the kitchen listening to his iPod and eating a bag of Oreos. Taking one earphone out, he said, “Hey, kitten-obsessed.” Glaring at
The World Apart
The trail is rough, But I absorb it all, Every bump, dip and curve, And let it become me. My hands rattle on the bars of my bike, As I take on this course. With speed and energy I never knew. The scenery astounds. A stream tries to keep up, The trees watch from above, The grass plays at my ankles, The birds cheer me on. As I try to blend, Into the scenery. The burn in my thighs, The wind in my face, The rustle of my hair, The fast steady motion, Is the rhythmic beat, Of the world apart. Ash Berger, 12Concord, North Carolina
