Politically Incorrect (13 page)

“But now you have lots of cool peeps,” Tricia said. “You’re very lucky.”

Natalie swallowed hard. She had to tell Tricia that her friends knew about her sloppiness, and she had to do it now before she lost her nerve.

“They are really cool,” Natalie murmured. “Which is why I had to be honest with them about whose garbage that was.”

Tricia stopped petting Paris and froze. “You did?”

Tricia’s obvious surprise worried Natalie. “I’m sorry if you’re embarrassed or anything. It’s just that I couldn’t stand my friends being so upset with me, and I didn’t want to lose—”

“Fine, I understand,” Tricia interjected, her tone somewhat deflated.

“They all promised not to say anything. I know they—”

“I have to take Paris back to the nature hut now,” Tricia interrupted again. It was clear as day that Natalie had upset her quite a bit.

There was nothing else she could do but give Tricia some space. So Natalie left the tent quietly, hoping the president’s daughter would be more forgiving tomorrow.

Later that night, Chelsea lay quietly in her bed as all her friends talked about two very pressing matters: 1) why Sloan still hadn’t come back to the bunk; and 2) who took the picture of Tricia’s nasty trash heap.

“All I’m saying is, we should think about putting a search party together,” Sarah pleaded with her friends as she zipped up her purple fleece hoodie.

“I’m sure Sloan is fine, Sarah,” Jenna said. “If she were really missing, Dr. Steve would know by now and everyone would be out looking for her.”

“She’s probably just neck-deep in Green Festival stuff,” Priya said as she closed the last window in the tent and rubbed her arms. There was definitely a chill in the air tonight.

“Yeah, instead we should really focus our energy on trying to figure out who set me and Tricia up,” Natalie remarked.

Chelsea pulled the covers over her head, wishing that she’d find some wormhole in her bed that would take her back in time. That way she could warn her other, more idiotic self not to take those dumb pictures and write that stupid e-mail.

Truth be told, Chelsea had been a mess of nerves since she’d accidentally sent that awful e-mail to the
National Gazette
. She felt absolutely horrible about betraying Camp Walla Walla, all because she was both jealous of, and embarrassed by, Natalie. And now that she knew what a good friend Natalie had been to Tricia—how she’d stuck up for her even though it had caused her a lot of pain—Chelsea couldn’t possibly feel worse about what she’d done.

“Do you think it could be one of the new campers?” Jenna said. “Maybe it was an initiation dare.”

Chelsea’s jaw clenched. Hearing her friends attempt to guess the identity of the Camp Walla Walla mole was more than she could bear.

“I don’t think so,” Brynn said. “No one would suggest a dare that would do so much damage to the camp.”

“Yeah, well, whoever it is, I’d really like to give that jerk a piece of my mind,” Natalie said, scowling.

“I’m with you. Whoever ratted you and Tricia out to the press was a big traitor,” Brynn added.

Chelsea could swear that her tongue was swelling. She just couldn’t listen to her friends bash the mystery e-mailer any longer.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Chelsea had never heard her voice sound this downtrodden before. “Be back in a few.”

Once Chelsea got to the bathroom, she splashed some cold water on her face, hoping that would make her feel better. But it didn’t help at all. Although she’d been upset at Natalie when she’d written that e-mail, Chelsea would never willingly betray anyone at Camp Walla Walla. If only she could admit what she’d done and plead temporary insanity.

After a few more minutes passed, Chelsea was able to calm herself down enough to return to her bunk. But as soon as she stepped out into the chilly summer air and saw Natalie and Sloan—who was holding Chelsea’s laptop—talking outside the tent, she knew she was in for it.

“W-what are you guys talking about?” Chelsea stammered. There was a brief pause, punctuated by Natalie’s best death glare.

“I was just telling Sloan who the trash really belonged to.”

“Okay, but why do you have my computer?” Chelsea asked, her teeth practically chattering.

Sloan glared at Chelsea. “I borrowed it earlier today to e-mail Dr. Steve.”

“You used it without my permission?” Chelsea knew deep down that being confrontational wasn’t the greatest idea, but she couldn’t help it. Regardless of what she’d done wrong, she kind of felt like her privacy had been violated.

“Well, it was an emergency. Besides, you weren’t around to ask,” Sloan countered, stone-faced. “Now I know why.”

Sloan opened the laptop up so Chelsea could see that in her crazed state she had forgotten to close the Web browser that linked to her now not-so-anonymous e-mail account.

“Guys, let me explain.
Please
. It’s not what you think,” Chelsea begged.

“How could you do this to us?” Natalie growled, practically spitting nails.

“Just hear me out,” Chelsea urged, her eyes watering.

“You hung Camp Walla Walla out to dry, Chelse!” Sloan’s voice was just below shouting level.

“I’ve been in a confidential counseling session with Jasmine for hours, trying to figure out what to do.”

“It was an accident, I swear. I meant to
delete
the e-mail, not send it. You have to believe me!”

“I can’t believe that you even
thought
about doing something like this!” Natalie said sharply. “How deceitful can you be?”

Suddenly, Chelsea’s unbearable sadness gave way to bubbling anger. Natalie had some nerve calling Chelsea deceitful! Yes, Chelsea shouldn’t have taken those pictures and orchestrated a plot to hurt Natalie—she was so sorry about all of it. But Natalie was acting as though she’d been a
saint
this summer, when she most certainly hadn’t!

Chelsea figured it was about time someone reminded her friend about a certain secret they
both
shared. What did she have to lose, now that the cat was out of the bag and everyone was attacking her?

“While we’re on the subject, why don’t you come clean with Sloan about the essay contest?” Chelsea said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Natalie immediately seemed rattled. Her hands started shaking.

“What is she talking about, Nat?” Sloan asked warily.

“I . . . um—” Natalie couldn’t seem to get any more words to squeak through her tight lips.

“Natalie wanted to win that chairperson spot so bad, she had me write her essay for her!” Chelsea blurted out.

“
What?
” Sloan gasped. “You cheated in the essay contest?”

Natalie immediately tried to reason with Sloan. “No, it wasn’t cheating exactly. Chelsea offered to help me with the essay, so she interviewed me and kind of ghostwrote it.”

“So were you trying to return the favor by blabbing to Tricia that I was her ‘biggest fan’?” Chelsea said through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you told her about that Oprah shirt. You promised you wouldn’t say anything!”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get you some extra face time with your idol. I guess the rest of Camp Walla Walla and I really
do
deserve to be embarrassed in front of the national media!” Natalie barked.

“Save it!” Sloan snapped. “You are both in the wrong.”

Chelsea felt her ears get hot as Sloan stared her and Natalie down. Couldn’t she see that Chelsea was genuinely sorry for her mistake? Or that she had a valid reason to be upset with Natalie?

“As far as I’m concerned,” Sloan continued, her voice very strained, “You two owe the whole camp an apology. Until you do that, I’m going to keep a lid on all this so it doesn’t destroy camp morale before the festival.”

Sloan shoved the laptop into Chelsea’s hands and walked into the bunk with her head hung low.

“Happy now?” Natalie asked with an icy stare.

Chelsea’s heart was beating like crazy, and she could barely think straight, let alone come up with a good retort. It didn’t matter, though. Natalie had already turned around and stormed into the tent.

The sun never shone as brightly as it did that Saturday morning. The temperature was a perfect seventy-two degrees and the air smelled like fresh wildflowers. On a day like this, the grounds at Camp Walla Walla would usually be crowded with kids running from the lake to the archery field to the horse stables. But since today was the opening of the Green Festival, the grounds were also crowded with families from the surrounding area.

As Sloan weaved her way through the crowd, she took in the sights of the festival. There were colorful tents spread out over the main promenade, which were filled to the brim with people of all ages. Sloan walked by a few crafts tents, where Priya and Sarah were checking out the items that the CITs had for sale, like beeswax candles and frames made out of recycled newspaper.

Then she stopped into a couple of the vegetable garden tents, where the counselors and campers were serving up organic food. She caught Jordan and David sampling some ripe red tomatoes and sweet strawberries. Next she visited the entertainment tent, where a bluegrass band made up of a few counselors was playing up-tempo songs that Brynn and Jenna were square-dancing to, in a goofy way, of course.

Sloan wanted to kick back and join in all the revelry—she’d worked so hard in preparation that yesterday went by in a blur—but she just couldn’t shake her sour mood. The other day she’d found out that two of her best friends had done some pretty crummy things. Sloan was still baffled by Chelsea’s and Natalie’s behavior. It was so out of character. Sure, both of them had had their scheming moments in the past, but never when the stakes were as high as this.

How was Sloan supposed to trust either one of them again?

“I must say, Sloan, you did an excellent job,” a voice said from behind her.

Sloan turned around and saw Dr. Steve clapping along with the bluegrass music.

“Thanks, Dr. Steve,” she said softly.

“I mean it, you should be really proud of what you accomplished here.” Dr. Steve tapped his foot with the beat of the drum. “Everyone is having a great time. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Sloan let out a long sigh. It
was
wonderful. But she was too bummed out to feel anything but sad.

“I’m happy it turned out so well,” she mumbled.

“Are you okay, Sloan?” Dr. Steve asked with concern. “I hope you’re not still upset about what happened with the
National Gazette
. Everything worked out. The article that was in the paper yesterday is part of what brought all these folks here.”

Sloan forced a small grin. “That’s true.”

“I’m also looking forward to seeing Natalie’s skit,” Dr. Steve said, smiling. “It’s scheduled for after Tricia’s speech, right?”

“Right.” Sloan gulped, her small grin vanishing. She hadn’t spoken to either Natalie or Chelsea since the other night when she learned about the secrets they’d been hiding. Sloan hoped that Natalie had been working on her skit even though they’d had a falling out.

Sloan glanced down at her watch and then back up at Dr. Steve. “Speaking of Tricia’s speech, I have to go meet Miles and Jasmine at the rotunda building. We’re helping her practice. We want everything to be perfect before the big event tomorrow night.”

“Fantastic! I’m sure she’s going to be spectacular,” Dr. Steve replied with enthusiasm.

Sloan mustered up another tiny smile and shuffled off toward the rotunda building. She wanted to believe that Tricia could pull off the moving, insightful speech that she and Miles had written, but given the events of two days ago, Sloan wasn’t sure if it was safe to believe in anyone, even the president’s daughter.

When Sloan arrived at the rotunda building, Miles was standing at the podium, adjusting the microphone. As she looked into his sparkling dark eyes, she felt her mood brighten. Miles glanced up and smiled when he saw Sloan walking down the center aisle.

“
There she iiiiiiis . . . Miss Amer-ic-aaaaaah
,” Miles sang into the mic.

Sloan giggled. “Very funny, Miles.”

He turned off the mic and chuckled. “And out of tune, too.”

Sloan plopped down in a front row seat and stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Please tell me that Tricia hasn’t gone AWOL on us,” she said. “I don’t think I can take any more drama.”

“No, Tricia’s just warming up backstage. She should be out in a minute. And Jasmine ran out to get us all some lemonade.” Miles sat next to Sloan and nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“Not well,” Sloan admitted, her voice cracking. “I know I should be thrilled with how the Green Festival is going, but honestly, I feel miserable.”

“That’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot lately,” he said.

“I just wish I could understand why Chelsea and Natalie did what they—”

“Hey, guys,” Tricia murmured quietly as she stepped onto the stage and took her place behind the podium, with Jones the bodyguard in tow.

Sloan looked at Miles in bewilderment. This definitely was not the chipper Tricia she had come to know.

“Hi, Tricia. Are you ready to do a dry run-through of the speech while we listen?” Sloan asked, trying to ignore Tricia’s melancholy demeanor.

“Okay,” Tricia said, casting her eyes down at her feet. “But first I want to say something.”

Miles’s eyebrows arched curiously. “Sure, go ahead.”

Tricia flipped through the pages of the speech. “I’m not sure I want to do this.”

Sloan could feel her face flush. Maybe Tricia would rather “talk about her dog” than read this speech, just like Chelsea had warned at their committee meeting.

“Well, we can rework some of the wording if you’d like,” Sloan said reassuringly.