Lake Rescue (8 page)

“Chelsea, are you still awake?” Chelsea’s mother was standing at her door. “Honey, you need to get your beauty sleep. I’m sorry I’m late tonight, but I had a really important client on the line.”

“Did you close your deal?” Chelsea put her journal in her desk drawer, locked it, and put the key back on the chain around her neck. Her mom worked really hard.

“I sure did. We can afford a great vacation this summer. Start thinking about where you want to go. Hey, let’s you and me go to one of those beauty spas where they help you lose some weight, pamper you with massages and salt rubs and seaweed packs—”

“I’d rather go to Disney World.”

“But we could be miserable together and come home two sizes, maybe three sizes smaller. We’d have to buy all new clothes and—”

“Good night, Mom.” Chelsea hugged her mother, got in bed, and turned over, as if to go to sleep.

Her mother took the hint, left Chelsea’s room, and turned off the light as she left.

That left Chelsea to lie in bed and think, a very bad late night habit she had developed lately. She knew her mother loved her to pieces and would do anything for her. But she just wished her mom would lay off the weight thing. Her mom was obsessed that Chelsea would get diabetes like her grandfather. And maybe she was embarrassed that Chelsea was fat. No,
that didn’t make sense, Chelsea reasoned. Her mom was kind of fat too. Then Chelsea almost jumped out of bed. She had almost, almost let herself forget Henry Yurt’s terrible idea. Pajama Day. Coming up on Friday. Chelsea sighed.

Emergency Sewing Session

The BSG had to call an emergency sewing session in the Tower. Katani and Isabel had bought the striped material and gotten the pajamas cut out, but said no way would they be able to do all the work by Friday.

Avery dragged her feet as she carried a load of sewing supplies up the steps to the Tower. “Do I really have to sew?” she complained. “I seriously don’t know what to do. I’ll probably sew the bottoms up by mistake so we’ll all end up with girly footsie pajamas instead of realistic prison uniforms.”

“Relax, Ave,” Katani replied. “It’s really not that hard…and it doesn’t have to be perfect. You can always rip stitches out and start over.”

One of the last-minute ideas was going to take time. Maeve looked in her father’s movie books and found that prisoners back in the old prison movies, like the one with Humphrey Bogart,
Angels with Dirty Faces
, wore little caps to match their uniforms. “We have to have the caps,” Maeve insisted. “They’ll be too, too cool.”

“Cha-ching,” Katani said. “We won’t have to buy more material, but we’ll have to spend more time. We can put some felt in the hats to make them have some shape, and you, Charlotte and Avery, can hand sew them. Are you willing to do that?”

“What if I volunteer to be a go-fer?” Avery suggested.
“I’ll go-fer goldfish crackers. I’ll go to the kitchen and make popcorn. I’ll be in charge of keeping energy up and keeping Marty from helping. He probably needs a run. Are you running with him every morning, Charlotte?”

Exasperated, Charlotte said, “Avery, you know, even Marty likes to sleep in some days. You can miss a day of exercise and not fall apart. I try to take Marty for a walk in the park after school, but we’ve had all this extra work. It’s like teachers can’t stand us to miss a day or two, so they give us double homework before we leave.”

“We can protest that, too. One of our signs on the back of the uniforms can say, NO MORE HOMEWORK. The trip is supposed to be part of our curriculum. I’ll bet we have to write papers after we get back.” Avery flopped down and did ten sit-ups, as if that would make her feel better about having to write a paper. Charlotte, Katani, Isabel, and Maeve groaned. No one could keep up with Avery. She had more energy than anyone they knew.

“What I did on my outdoor education vacation.” Maeve giggled. “I’ll make up a skit that shows some of our adventures. Or several skits. Wasn’t there a dance in the sixties called ‘The Swim’?” Maeve jumped up, popped on a CD, and started swaying and moving like a fish.

She puckered up her lips and made a slight popping sound, as if she was sucking air.

Soon all the girls were sucking air, making like goldfish, swaying at whatever task they were trying to do. The skit didn’t last long, since neither Katani nor Isabel could sew a straight line while standing up and swimming.

“Is this right?” Maeve popped her finished convict hat
on her red hair and struck a pose in which she was sad and peering through bars, longing for freedom.

“No, you look like a flight attendant.” Charlotte said. “The hat goes on sideways.” She slipped the hat off Maeve and turned it around.

“That’s not nearly as cute.” Maeve looked in the mirror and pouted.

“You’re the one who said we have to be true to the old movies.”

“Well, not completely true. Because one thing that was really gross is that people used to smoke in them all the time. Even fancy people. It’s disgusting. I hate smoke.” Maeve acted out a huge coughing fit for her friends.

“Yeah, it’s like where did anyone get the idea that it’s so cool to smoke? Let’s all smoke and destroy our lungs. There’s a great concept,” Avery said sarcastically.

“You know,” Isabel said conspiratorially. “My sister went out with this boy who smoked. He was really handsome and nice, but Elena Maria said that when she was near him she could smell the smoke. It made her nauseous. So she broke up with him.”

“That’s so sad,” Maeve cried. “Why didn’t she tell him to give up smoking if he was so cute?”

“She did tell him, but he couldn’t give them up. He said he was addicted and he was only fifteen.” Isabel sighed as she put the final touches on her hat.

“Oh,” sighed Maeve, her romantic sensibilities dashed.

Charlotte didn’t know how they got from Pajama Day to smoking, but Isabel’s story reminded her of how she was never ever going to smoke in her life even if the
coolest person in the whole world asked her to. The idea of breathing in smoke was really creepy. She shivered at the thought.

“What do you think Chelsea Briggs is going to wear?” asked Katani as she held her p.j. pants out in front of her.

“I know what she should wear,” Maeve said excitedly. “She should go dressed like a queen. Chelsea would look great all big and beautiful and strong like no one would mess with her.”

“That’s a great idea, Maeve.” Isabel jumped up. “Let’s call her right now.” Isabel was still feeling a little guilty about her cartoon. This, she thought, would help make it up to Chelsea.

Avery jumped up to get the phone book.

Charlotte and Katani looked at each other and shook their heads.

Katani spoke first. “Look. We don’t really know Chelsea. I mean, what if Kiki called us up and said we should wear our mothers’ pajamas?”

The girls all looked at each other and Maeve began to giggle. “You would not believe what my mother wears to bed in the winter…old Mickey Mouse p.j.’s with feet.”

“I agree with Katani,” Charlotte said, suddenly serious. “Chelsea might be mad. It would be like saying that we know what’s good for her and we hardly even know her.”

The girls agreed that they should drop the idea. But Maeve still insisted that her idea had been a good one.

“You know, in olden times when they didn’t worship stick-thin women, Chelsea might have been the most popular.”

The information that Maeve had stored in her head, gleaned from movies over the years, was certainly a mish-mash of colorful vocabulary but sometimes useful facts.

“Do you want to come over on Friday morning so we can get dressed here? We can go to school together and make a grand entrance.”

“Great idea,” Maeve said. “I’ve had a lot of freedom lately, but occasionally Mom remembers I exist for something besides getting Sam off to school.”

Working together, they finished their pajamas just as Mr. Ramsey said he’d take everyone home. “Do I get a fashion show?”

“The girls are going to come over before school on Friday.”

“I’ll be sure to have plenty of film in the camera. I’m amazed at the things you girls think of to do.”

“Oh, this wasn’t our idea, Mr. Ramsey. It was part of Henry Yurt’s campaign promise. If he was elected he’d get us permission to come to school in our pajamas,” Katani laughed. “I never would have thought that Grandma Ruby would approve of it, but sometimes she surprises me.”

“You girls should all go to bed early tonight to start resting up for Lake Rescue. I’ll drive you home now. And, Charlotte, your light better be out by the time I get back!”

Mr. Ramsey winked at Charlotte as they left.

“It will be out, Dad. I’m tired. But I want to send Sophie a quick e-mail tonight. She’s going to think I’ve forgotten her.”

T
he girls were laughing so hard on Friday morning that Mr. Ramsey had trouble getting them to stand still so he could take photos.

Despite Katani’s efforts, Avery’s pants were too long, and she had to roll them over a couple of times. Everyone’s outfit was large so they could wear the pajamas over their clothing. The girls had decided on stretch pants and tank tops so you could scarcely notice anything but the striped pajamas—and, of course, the black balloons on their black electric-tape chains. They’d had to run extra tape around their socks in order to get them to stay on.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too cold, since no way could they wear coats. Off they went, down Corey Hill, left on Beacon, left on Harvard. They walked in a straight line, right hand on the right shoulder of the person in front, so they appeared to be chained together. They giggled and laughed, trying not to step on each other’s balloons.

“Left, right, left, right.” Avery counted the cadence for marching.

Charlotte waved to Yuri, outside arranging the fruit for his grocery. He started to wave back, then froze, staring. She saw him shake his head. The puzzled look on his face as they marched by was so comical that the BSG got another huge fit of laughter. Every time they tried to stop laughing, Maeve would imitate Yuri’s long face, and they would burst into giggles all over again.

As they walked along the route to school, people stared, some laughed, all stopped and looked. Charlotte just hoped that she wouldn’t fall down, as her pj bottoms kept unrolling.

“This is so great,” Avery said, giving Maeve a high five. “Just imagine what an entrance we’re going to make at school.”

“Looks like we’re already a success,” Charlotte said, trying to imagine doing this at any other school she had attended. Most schools abroad tended to be more formal, more serious than Abigail Adams Junior High. Not that studying and learning wasn’t the top priority at Abigail Adams, but having fun at school was considered necessary to make the school experience complete. Charlotte loved that about America. People always tried to make things fun. It was very “jolly” as her friend Shadya from Tanzania used to say. Of course, fun at Abigail Adams Junior High probably had a lot to do with Mrs. Fields too. She seemed to be able to remember what it was like to be a teenager.

Eighth graders stopped and stared. One girl put her hands on her hips and said, “How juvenile. I’m so glad I’m in eighth grade.”

“So are we!” Maeve giggled. “Promise me, BSG, that we won’t get so stuck up next year that we’ll act like that.”

After a rousing “We promise!” came a chorus of “yes,” “no way,” and “juvenile forever.”

The Yurtmeister was greeting people at the door. He wore a nightshirt with red toy soldiers on a background of white. In his hand he held a candlestick, on his head, a nightcap with a red tassel.

“Wow, good competition. Congratulations, girls. You are contenders.”

Henry had made sure there were prizes worth having for several categories. Most original. Cutest. Funniest. Even a consolation prize called “Best Try.” He had told the girls one day at lunch that several businesses had given him gift certificates from their stores.

Riley Lee carried a homemade CD cover that said “Bedtime Stories.” He wore headphones, and Charlotte wondered what he was really listening to.

Nick Montoya and Sammy Andropovitch leaned on their lockers. Both looked pretty standard in blue sweats with wine-colored piping and old T-shirts.

The girls got their books from their lockers, then hooked back up to march into homeroom. Ms. Rodriguez shook her head, grinned from ear to ear, then clapped. “Good show. If you don’t win a prize, I’ll find one for you.”

Charlotte was excited. She felt so lucky to be a part of the BSG.

“Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other gold.” Charlotte didn’t know where she had learned that little song, and why it should pop into her head at this
moment, but her silver friends were fast becoming gold. And to her relief, that morning she’d found three e-mails waiting for her from Sophie, who was surely, even with so much distance between them, still a gold friend.

The signs on their backs were a little scratchy to lean against, but people had shouted “right on” and raised thumbs in agreement to escaping the classroom and homework.

“Okay, class,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “You really are going to be set free from your usual school activities on Monday. Is everyone packed and ready to meet the bus here at seven a.m.? I’m sure no one wants to be left behind. The outdoor education experience is going to be worth twenty-five percent of your physical education grade for this quarter. Your chaperones, Ms. Weston, Mr. Brown, and Ms. Franklin, will evaluate the participation of each student.” Ms. R passed out sheets of paper.

“Remember, your number one assignment is to keep a journal. Here are some suggestions for journal starters, but mainly I want you to ‘free write’ each day about your experiences. Each day, write about someone you helped and someone who helped you. What you learned about working together. If you get to know someone new, write about that person. If you learn something you never knew about yourself, or if someone surprises you, write about that. Any questions?”

“We have to write in the journal every day?” Avery asked. “That’s going to spoil the whole trip.”

“Yes, every day or sometimes during the day when you get a free moment. Your experiences are going to be kickoffs for other writing assignments upon your return. In fact, we’ve asked the camp counselors to give you periods of free time.”

“When?” Avery asked. “From six to six thirty in the
morning and nine thirty to ten o’clock at night?” Avery pretended to yawn.

“That’s when I usually have my bedtime story.” Henry Yurt grinned at Avery.

“Maybe you get a bedtime story, Yurt, but I always study my football plays just before I go to sleep.” Pete Wexler was the quarterback on the J.V. football team. “Whatever you read or study just before you go to sleep stays in your mind.”

“That’s when I study for tests.” Betsy Fitzgerald was a straight A student. Maybe studying before bedtime was one of her trade secrets. “I might not have perfect penmanship if I’m writing in a canoe, Ms. Rodriguez,” she added. “Will you take that into consideration?”

“I’m not going to be reading your journals, Betsy. So don’t worry about how messy they are…poems and doodles are fine. In addition to writing, you can draw or color. Take your colored pencils. Just record your thoughts and favorite images about the trip.”

“I don’t think that will be too hard, Ms. R,” Dillon grinned, looking around for someone to point his finger at.

“Are you going to bring your teddy bear so you can sleep at night?” Avery joked.

“Maybe, and what about you? Need your blankie?” grinned Dillon. They high-fived each other.

“I see a competition brewing,” Charlotte whispered to Maeve.

“You think they would have learned from the class election.” Maeve whispered back as she grinned at Dillon.

Charlotte nodded. Things had gotten so heated between
Katani and Avery when they both had run for class president.

Charlotte wondered if she should take her stuffed pig on the trip. But what if Truffles got lost or stolen? That would be so sad. She’d had Truffles for ages. Besides, if she brought him, she might get teased. Better to leave him at home with Marty and Dad. That was the safe move.

“Okay, everyone. Listen up now.” Ms. Rodriguez continued with her announcements. “Henry made a strong argument for a new category—creativity. So be sure to vote by noon, so we can announce all the winners.”

“Can we vote for ourselves?” Joline asked, sitting up very straight at her desk.

Charlotte would never have had the nerve to wear a satin nightshirt like Joline wore today. Even over shorts and a tank. Anna’s was identical yellow. They had obviously gone out and bought them new.

“You’d better vote for yourself. No one else will.” A boy’s voice came from the back of the room, but when everyone turned around, the speaker remained straight-faced, and Charlotte, at least, didn’t recognize his voice.

“Okay, have fun today, and—”

“Write about Pajama Day in our journals?” Avery finished Ms. Rodriguez’s sentence. “And the ghost that haunts Lake Rescue.” The bell rang so Ms. R didn’t hear the rest of Avery’s words.

Ms. O’Reilly, their young social studies teacher, smiled as everyone filed into her class. “Where did you girls get your idea for today’s costumes, Charlotte?”

“Maeve told us about some old prison movies and we saw the movie poster for
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
”

“Did you know that movie was based on a book called
The Odyssey
? It’s considered a classic.”

No one raised a hand except Betsy. “It’s by Homer. Will we read it this year?” she asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Homer Simpson?” asked Henry Yurt. The whole class broke into hysteria.

“No, Henry, a different Homer…he lived several thousand years ago in ancient Greece. Does anyone know what the word ‘odyssey’ means?”

Charlotte had heard her father use the word. She took a wild guess.

“Does it mean a trip?”

“Yes, it does. A long, adventurous journey. Kind of like the one you’re getting ready to make to Lake Rescue.”

“I hope it won’t be too adventurous,” Maeve said. Charlotte knew she still wished she could stay home, even though the trip would have been spoiled without all the BSG.

“What are some examples you can think of in history that might be odysseys?” Ms. O’Reilly’s sparkling green eyes encouraged someone to take a chance on answering her question. She made students want to have the answer to her questions, but she never put them down if they said something stupid.

Dillon took a chance. “Would the voyage of Christopher Columbus be considered an odyssey?”

“Certainly. I think the voyages of many curious explorers would qualify. The voyage of Lewis and Clark across the western half of the United States was an odyssey. And Powell’s trip down the Colorado River when he had no idea
what he’d find around the next bend was an odyssey too.”

“What about Leif Eriksson and the Vikings?” offered Nick. A history buff, Nick was obsessed with the Vikings. To him they were the ultimate adventurers—sailing the seas in their small, sturdy ships.

“Yes, Nick. I would definitely think the Viking journeys would qualify as odysseys.”

“What if I fly to Colorado next summer to visit my dad?” Avery asked. “Is that an odyssey?”

“I don’t think so, Avery.” Billy Trentini grinned at Avery. “You get on a plane in Boston, you drink a Coke, you get off in Denver?”

“Maybe by the time you came home, Avery, you’d have had some adventures and the trip would qualify. But as a rule, I think the word suggests a long, sometimes frightening, often difficult journey in which you learn some things about a new world and yourself. I’m looking in my dictionary.” Ms. O’Reilly thumbed through a fat, well-worn book. “Ah, here it is. The words hardship, wandering and adventurous are mentioned.”

Katani grimaced. “That figures. Since I have to go to Lake Rescue, there will definitely be hardship involved.” Katani slapped high fives with Maeve and Isabel. All three of them had tried but failed to get out of the outdoor education trip.

“Good. We’ll talk more about this when you return. Be sure—”

The entire class had the words memorized. “To write down what happens all week.”

By noon, when prizes were announced, Billy and Josh Trentini had popped all the girls’ “ball and chain”
balloons, and they had taken the tape off their socks.

“You know,” Avery said, “these pajamas are comfortable. Maybe we can wear them all the time. Except when I’m playing soccer, of course.”

“They’re warm and cozy, too,” Isabel said. “I’ve had trouble not falling asleep in class.”

“There’s Chelsea.” Maeve avoided pointing, but she nodded several tables over. “Hey, those don’t look like p.j.’s.”

Chelsea Briggs wore sweatpants and a football T-shirt with a number, which probably belonged to her brother.

“They are.” Isabel made her purple Jell-O quiver every time she took a bite. “I asked her. She said that’s really what she sleeps in every night. That’s one of her brother’s old shirts. Her brother Ben is some famous football player at the high school.”

“All right, attention all you pajamaheads.” Henry Yurt tossed his tasseled hat out of his eyes and stood in front of the seventh-grade tables. “What you’ve waited for all morning. The awards!”

All the BSG pretended they didn’t care if they won anything, but there was lots of punching and giggling going on around them.

“Nice try.” Henry waved a piece of paper. “Nick and Sammy get a gift certificate to Filene’s Basement ‘cause they really need some new p.j’s. You dudes get the ‘Need Help’ award. I think the Basement has some.”

“Or give the gift certificate to someone else.” Maeve raised her eyebrows and pretended she didn’t mean herself. The Basement was her favorite place to shop.

“Prettiest. Who else? Joline Kaminsky and Anna McMasters. Gift certificates to Burger Barn.”

Had Henry done that on purpose? Obviously Joline and Anna thought he had. They were sitting at the table behind the BSG so their reaction was easily overheard.

“Burger Barn! We’d never eat there. Their hamburgers have about a thousand calories apiece.” Joline was outraged at their prize.

“Hey, I love those burgers,” piped up Avery.

“Well, you take the ticket then,” Joline said sarcastically.

“Great,” Avery held out her hand, but Joline put her nose in the air and walked away.

“Hey, let’s trade prizes with Nick and Sammy…sometimes you can find some cool things there,” Anna said, staring straight at Maeve.

“Good luck,” Maeve whispered.

“Most creative.” Henry waved the last gift certificate. “Big surprise. The award goes to the jailbirds, Charlotte, Avery, Maeve, Katani, and Isabel. An evening of bowling at Stardust Lanes.”

“Bowling?” Maeve’s face fell as fast as it had lit up.

Avery jumped up. “I love bowling—it’s so fun. You’ll see. We’ll have a great time.”