Like Bug Juice on a Burger (8 page)

The other girls started tapping their pencils

on the table.

Thinking.

Not me.

I knew the pet names I loved.

On my sheet of paper, I wrote:

Then I folded that paper up.

Dylan was sitting next to me.

I sneaked a peek at her paper.

She wrote:

1. Bleat

2. Goatie

3. Spot

Good
grief
! I thought.

She can’t name a goat
at all
!

Then I told myself

it was better to name goats well

than swim well.

I didn’t really believe that.

But still.

I felt better.

After we’d all handed our lists to Hope,

we stood in the long line for food.

I had to eat salad and rolls again.

Because chili

is disgusting.

And the lasagna had spinach inside.

I asked for more salad this time

and forced myself to eat tomatoes.

Because I was
starving.

Hours and hours later,

we were all wearing pajamas

and sitting in a circle on the cabin floor.

We all held our flashlights

shining up at the ceiling.

Hope set a candle in a dish

on the floor in front of her.

“Okay, Gypsy Moths,” she said.

“As soon as I’ve lit this candle,

we’ll all turn off our flashlights.”

She lit the candle with a match,

and we all turned off our flashlights.

Now the flickering of one flame

was our only light.

It felt spooky.

But peaceful, too.

And I was so tired.

“We’ll have candle lighting every night,”

Hope said.

“And we’ll always start with a question.

Answer only if you want to.”

She waited a moment.

Crickets chirped outside.

Then she said,

“Tonight’s question is:

What was the highlight of your day?

Mine was meeting all of you.”

We had a moment of quiet again.

Then Joplin said,

“Mine was the lemon-lime fruit bar.”

And Dylan said,

“Mine was seeing Kylie.”

And Montana said,

“
Hello?

What about me?”

“You, too,” Dylan said.

“And Amelia and Gwen.”

Each of those girls then

talked about seeing the others.

I sat there, very quiet.

Thinking about my whole day.

I couldn’t think of a single highlight.

After everyone else had finished,

Hope paused for a long moment.

Probably wishing I’d say something.

But I didn’t.

So she stopped waiting

and taught us a song.

A much slower song

than the one about the desperado.

When we’d all sung together,

Hope blew out her candle.

As we switched on our flashlights, she said,

“One more reminder before bed.

You must never bring food into the cabin.

It attracts animals.”

“Like rats!” Amelia said.

“Rats?” I said.

“That’s right!” Kylie said.

“We had one in our cabin last year.

Because of
Dylan
.”

I had to shake my foot then.

I could practically feel a rat on it.

“My mom sent cake,” Dylan said.

“It was delicious.”

“That rat thought so, too!” Kylie said.

“Okay,” Hope said.

“If she sends cake this year,

we’ll store it safely in the dining hall.

Now, everyone into bed.”

So I climbed into bed.

It was strange, being so high.

And the mattress was lumpy,

and my sleeping bag was thinner and more slippery

than the quilt I used at home.

And my parents weren’t there

to tuck me in

and kiss me good-night.

But I barely thought about any of that.

Because before most of the girls had turned off

their flashlights,

I had fallen asleep.

In the middle of the night, I had a nightmare.

About a rat

hanging on to the leg of my jeans,

tight,

with its pointy teeth.

I shook

and shook

my leg,

trying to fling it off.

I tried so hard,

I woke myself up.

Then I sat up,

confused.

I was relieved

there was no rat.

But I didn’t know where I was.

Just that I wasn’t home.

Nothing felt like home.

Not even the air.

When I heard the crickets outside,

I remembered.

And I lay back down.

I wanted to call out for my mom.

She’d bring me a glass of water

and rub my back

and say, “It was just a dream.

Don’t worry.

It was just a dream.”

I couldn’t believe

I hadn’t made it through a single night yet.

I couldn’t believe

I had nine more to go.

I remembered my whole rotten day.

My flying fall.

My stinging hands

and knees

and chin.

This stupid, lumpy bed,

which I couldn’t even make.

The swim test.

The mosquitoes.

The no-candy rule.

The rat.

The spiders spinning in the bathrooms

every time I went to pee.

Changing my clothes

in front of girls I barely knew

before swimming

and after swimming

and again before bed.

I don’t want to be here,

I thought.

I hate camp.

I just
hate
it.

I made an important decision then.

I fumbled in the dark for my flashlight

hanging on the wooden frame of my bed.

Then,

very quietly,

I climbed down my bunk ladder.

Gwen was breathing

a slow, whistly kind of breathing

in the bunk below mine.

I tiptoed past her

and got stationery and a pen from my cubby,

then climbed back up the ladder

and started writing a letter.

I wrote:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have met Esmeralda.

Remember, Mom
?