Campfire Cookies (15 page)

“That's embarrassing,” I said.

“Three cheers for Lucy!” said Olivia—which was also embarrassing, especially when they really did cheer three times: “Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!”

Olivia and Emma cheered for Lucy
three times
!

I cheered one and a half: “Hip Hip Hooray” and then “Hip Hip” and then nothing.

The truth is, by then I was already beginning to change my mind. If Lucy could sneak into Boys Camp and break into Silver Spur Cabin with a plate of oatmeal cookies, then so could I. Lucy had been a hero one time,
but it was me who was the most coordinated, the most agile, and the strongest.

Maybe it was Snot-Nosed Grace to say so, but I liked being all those things. And I liked that people knew it, too.

On the way to breakfast the next morning, Monday, I told the membership.

“Are you sure, Grace?” Olivia asked.

“Either way,” Lucy said.

“Emma?” I said.

“Pancakes,” said Emma.

“What?”
I said.

“Oh, sorry,” said Emma. “What did you say?”

I repeated myself. Emma frowned, then shrugged. “Go for it, Grace! And it has to be tonight, right? You know that.”

Now that the cookies were made, they had to be delivered fast. No one ever fell in love over stale cookies. On that the membership agreed 100 percent.

•  •  •

If you're looking forward to something, like acing a test, or if you're dreading something, like going to
the dentist, either way, time stretches on forever.

That's how Monday was.

“Think of it like a roller coaster,” Emma told me on the way back from lunch, “scary on the downhills but fun at the end when you realize you're still alive.”

“Emma”—I looked at her sideways—“I know sneaking into Boys Camp won't
kill
me. The worst possible would be getting sent home by the sentries.”

“A fate
worse
than death!” Olivia cried.

“And don't forget Paula will give all your stuff to charity,” Emma said.

“Not helpful,” I said.

“I can still go,” said Lucy.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “My mind is made up.”

•  •  •

Lights-out for ten-to-elevens on weeknights is nine thirty. Since Hannah had evening riding, she didn't usually get back to Flowerpot till then or even a few minutes after. This gave Olivia time after activities to retrieve the cookies from her trunk, unwrap them, and put them on plates borrowed from the mess hall. Then
she wrapped each plate in clear plastic, and Lucy put a handpainted card on top.

It had been my job to write the notes on the two cards because I have the best handwriting. We had worked hard over what to say and even (of course) argued about it. In the end we voted that simple was best, and both cards could say the same thing:

Something sweet for someone sweet.

Very truly yours,

A secret admirer

“Done,” Lucy announced, once the cards were securely attached.

“Now it's all up to you, Grace,” said Emma.

“And if you fail, the whole PFHL enterprise was an
enormous
waste of our time and our effort,” Olivia added.

“No pressure,” Lucy said.

We got ready for bed after that. To make me more nearly invisible, I had borrowed a pair of Olivia's
pajamas. They were dark blue and made of silk. They were way too big for me, so I had rolled up the legs and the sleeves. With fifteen minutes left before lights-out, we had one more task to complete.

It was the one we had argued about more than any of the others.

I thought it was a crock of hooey.

Olivia thought it was brilliant.

Emma thought it couldn't hurt.

As for Lucy, the idea had come from her when we were planning. She said her mom had gone through an earth-worship phase, and she had learned some spells. As soon as Olivia heard that, she'd insisted we had to include it in PFHL. Lucy wasn't so crazy about the idea, but she went along and told us what to do.

“Did you get your supplies?” she asked now.

We all had.

Mine was a pile of salt, collected a shake at a time from the dining hall and wrapped up in a napkin, which I now placed in the middle of the floor.

Olivia's was what looked like a small pile of brown slime.

“
Ewww—
what
is
that?” I asked her.

“Flower petals,” she said, “only I guess they got kind of stale.”

“They'll still work,” Lucy said.

“How do you know? They're disgusting,” I said.

“It's the essence of the thing that matters, not its outward form,” Lucy explained.

I looked Lucy in the eye. “Seriously?”

“Grace!” Olivia shook her head at me. “The time for argument is past.”

Emma had a flashlight to stand in for a candle—which we never would have been allowed to have. She now placed it on the floor and switched it on. As we watched, Lucy made three piles of slime petals and put them in a line, sprinkled the salt in a heart shape around them, and turned on the flashlight. Then she said, “Which way is north?”

“Why north?” I wanted to know.

“Because of the North Star, Polaris,” Lucy said, as if that explained anything.

Emma pointed, and Lucy put the flashlight on that side of the heart. Then she put a plate of cookies on either side of it.

It was getting kind of crowded on the floor.

“Okay,” Lucy said, “somebody turn off the lights.”

I said, “I can't believe we're doing this.”

Olivia said, “I know! It's so exciting!”

“That is not what I—,” I started to say.

But just then the lights went out, and in the dark Lucy spoke in a singsong voice: “Oh-h-h, great spirit of oneness that binds us together in all things. One with the minerals of the earth . . . one with the flowers of the earth . . . one with the light within and without us and with the darkness all around! Hear me and lend to these sweet confections the sweet power of passionate attraction, so that they might bind together those who receive them.”

“Wow,” I said, while at the same time Olivia said, “Amen!” and Emma, “Sing it, sister!”

I was hoping the next part of the ceremony would be interactive. Maybe we' d all get to mutter mumbo-jumbo
sounds. In the dark with the flashlight, that might be kind of cool.

But we never got that far. Before Lucy could instruct us, there was a noise outside: Hannah was back early!

As usual, Lucy moved fastest, switching off the flashlight and shoving the cookies under our bunk bed with her foot. By the time Hannah pushed the door open, the membership had dispersed to our beds and pulled up the sheets. The salt and the flower slime were still on the floor, but Hannah wouldn't notice them in the dark.

Hannah fussed around, quietly getting ready for bed. When after a few minutes she went into the bathroom, Emma whispered, “Good luck, Grace. You can do it!”

Then Lucy and Olivia chimed in: “Good luck, Grace!”

“Thanks,” I whispered, and the sound was so soft I hardly heard myself.

By this time, we had thought out, planned out, and practiced everything about PFHL.

At least I hoped we had.

This was the moment of truth.

Emma was our authority on all things sleep related because she had done a sleep unit during fifth-grade health. According to her, the boys of Silver Spur Cabin would be most deeply asleep around two thirty in the morning.

Without a phone, I couldn't set my alarm to vibrate to wake me up. So we had asked around until finally
Emma found a kid, Eli, in Ponderosa Cabin, who had a watch with an alarm that vibrated.

In exchange for a couple of cookies, he lent it to us.

Since there is usually something to worry about, I am not a good sleeper. That night I was not only worried about eluding the sentries; I was also worried I wouldn't wake up.

I fretted and tugged the sheets and checked the time and couldn't get comfortable . . . until what seemed like five minutes before the vibration on my wrist woke me like a buzzing bee.

“Wha . . . ?”
I sat up straight, then clapped my hand over my mouth. Oh, no—had I woken Hannah?

I waited and listened, but the only sound was four girls breathing.

Quiet as a mouse, I rolled out of bed and slipped on my shoes. Quiet as a mouse, I reached under the bunk and pulled out one plate of cookies. Quiet as a mouse—one that knows how to twist a doorknob—I opened the door, slipped outside, and pulled the door closed.

Now I was on the flagstone path, breathing the cool night air. Adrenaline had woken most of my brain, and the air woke the rest. Fully awake, I was fast. I was coordinated. I was agile.

Also, I was scared to death.

Where were the sentries? How many were there? Were they really invisible and silent? What was it like if one caught you? Did he tackle you? Were there handcuffs?

Part of me said that I should have thought of all this before, and part of me said, what good would that have done?

Okay, Grace,
I said to myself.
Time to do this for real. If the sentries are invisible and silent, I will be
more
invisible and silent.

We had calculated cookie delivery to the minute. If it went as planned, I would be back in bed in Flowerpot Cabin in less than twenty minutes, mission accomplished.

With fear to spur me on, I ran lightly on my toes.

Watch out, Boys Camp. Here I come!

Grace's
“Wha . . . ?”
wasn't very loud, and after that she was quiet as a shadow getting out the door.

Still, she woke me up.

From the moment weeks before, when she got volunteered to make the PFHL delivery, I knew I had to help her out. Grace is a wonderful person, but she said it herself—she is a coward. I couldn't bear the thought of her all alone out there. Boys Camp was
crawling with sentries. What if she got caught?

Meanwhile, everyone else in Flowerpot Cabin was breathing slowly and deeply, obviously sound asleep.

I didn't want Grace to know I was following her. I didn't want to interfere with her mission. I just wanted to be there in case. So I counted to twenty to give her a good head start. Then I swiveled my butt off my bunk, slipped my feet into a pair of sneakers, and tiptoed toward the door.

Crossing the room, I kicked something—the flashlight maybe? It skittered away from my toe, and I stumbled more from surprise than anything.

Olivia's dresser was closest to the door, and I bumped that before my hand found the doorknob. I'm pretty sure I didn't make any noise, but it was a relief to be outside at last.