Read Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 Online

Authors: Sarah Mlynowski

Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 (21 page)

BOOK: Spells & Sleeping Bags #3
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“Break out your Camp Wood Lake T-shirts! Tomorrow morning we leave for an overnight canoe trip!”

Two days of being on a boat? I've tried canoeing only twice at camp, and I wasn't very good. And that's a lot of quality time with Liana. Intense quality time. I do want to get to know her better, but . . . well, she hasn't exactly made an effort to get to know
me.
I was already here when she came, and she chose a spot at the other end of the table.

I wasn't sure whether we were spilling the cousin-beans to the rest of the bunk, but since she didn't mention it, I decided I shouldn't either—which is fine with me. I mean, I have only two friends left in the bunk. Two friends who aren't too crazy about Liana. I wouldn't want to alienate them with my nepotism.

I wonder if anyone has an extra T-shirt to lend me, so that I won't have to wear my Oodle Wamp Ack.

“Just the five of us?” Morgan asks. “Or is fifteen coming too?”

“Bunk fifteen is coming too,” Deb says. “And me. And a leader.”

Poodles' ears perk up.

“Who's the leader?” I ask for Poodles' sake. “Is it Harris?”

“No, Harris only goes with the guys' bunks. Rose is coming with us.”

We all boo.

“Come on, girls,” Deb says. “She's not that bad.”

“Yes, she is,” Poodles says. She's obviously disappointed for other reasons.

“Where are we going?” Carly asks.

Deb gives us a thumbs-up. “Harbor Point.”

“That's supposed to be nice,” Carly says. “My sister went there two years ago and loved it.”

I don't totally understand what a canoe trip is. Do we sleep in the canoes?

“Where exactly do we sleep?” Liana asks.

Omigod, she was totally reading my mind! How cousinly!

“In tents,” Deb says.

I'm not crazy about tents. I imagine there are lots of spiders in tents. And what if it rains? Are tents waterproof? I don't want to get all wet. “Who puts up the tents?” I wonder aloud.

“We do,” Deb says.

We do? “And where do we go to the bathroom?”

Poodles laughs.

“In the WC,” Morgan says. “Wooden can. Or you pee near a tree. Or under a branch toilet if you need to get formal.”

I am from Manhattan. I do not pee in the woods.

“I hate canoe trips,” Carly whines. “Do we have to go?”

“Yes!” says Deb.

“It could be fun,” says my cousin the suck-up.

“Now, that's the spirit,” Deb says. “We pack tonight instead of going to evening activity, and we leave from the dock at nine. Tomorrow we canoe till about one and then we hang out at Harbor Point. We leave the next morning.”

I wonder how many rolls of toilet paper we should take. I suppose I can always megel some more all the way from camp. I've got that particular megel down pat. Too bad it's the only thing about my life that seems to be working.

 

 

“So you really think Liana is a good witch?” I wouldn't want to have to drop a house on her or anything. It's free play, and Miri and I are leaving the mess hall and walking to the Upper Field bleachers.

“Definitely. She's taught me so many fun spells! Like automatic bed-making and sweeping. And some advanced ones too, like communicating with animals. I'm going to test them out on Tigger and Goldie when we get home.”

I can understand trying to communicate with our cat—after all, cats are supposed to be mediums for witches—but our goldfish? This I have to see.

“Did you know she knows tons of other witches? They all hang out together in Switzerland. They go to boarding school and everything.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What, she goes to Hogwarts?”

“No, Rachel, don't be dumb. It's more of an underground thing. We are so lucky to have such an in-the-know witch for a cousin,” Miri says, all googly-eyed.

If you want to know the truth, it's nauseating. “I think she's a little strange,” I say.

“I think she's amazing.”

Gag me, please. “Miri, isn't it a bit weird that she wants to spend so much time with you?”

Miri stops in her tracks. “No, Rachel, it isn't. Some people like spending time with me. Not everyone sees me as a nuisance.”

Hello, drama queen. “I know that, but Liana is two years older than you. I wonder why she went out of her way to be friends with you and not me, that's all.”

“Is it so impossible for you to believe that someone would prefer me to you?”

“That's not what I meant.”

“It is too. Yes, Liana would rather spend time with me than with you. And you know what? I would rather spend time with Liana than with you. She actually respects me and enjoys hanging out with me. She cares about important stuff, things more important than popularity, straight hair, and boys who don't even like
her
!”

I gasp. “I can't believe you just said that.”

“Well, I did. It's true. I can't take how completely self-involved you are.”

“I am not! You'd better apologize,” I say to her.

“Why? Are you going to turn me into a roll of toilet paper if I don't?”

I'm so angry that I take off at full speed and leave her standing on the road. “I'm not speaking to you until you apologize,” I call over my shoulder.

“I don't care. I have someone better to talk to!”

Sucker. With Liana and me away on our canoe trip, the only person who will speak to her is Prissy.

I hope Miri knows pig Latin.

 

 

 

 

16
TENTS AND OTHER
DISASTERS

 

“Knuckles facing out, Rachel, knuckles facing out,” Carly says.

Unfortunately, I'm still not a very good canoeist. Which is surprising, considering it's so boringly simple. In-out, in-out, repeat process a million times.

Carly is in the stern, behind me, because that's where the best canoeist is supposed to be. Poodles called dibs on the bow. I'm in the crappy middle, the only spot that doesn't have a seat and requires painful kneeling.

“Did somebody fart?” Carly asks.

“Gross, no,” Poodles says.

“Well, I smell something.”

“Whoever smelt it dealt it,” I tell Carly.

“Maybe it's the turkey sandwiches,” she says.

“Turkey doesn't smell,” I say. Our lunches are packed in our canoe. Dinner (hot dogs), tomorrow's breakfast, and a scary-looking vegetarian option Rose refers to as veggie paste are in the cooler in the counselors' canoe.

“It does when it's been boiling in the sun for two hours,” Carly says.

“Can we take a break?” I beg. “My arms are killing me.”

We lift our paddles out of the water and balance them across the boat. Ah. That's better.

Also in our canoe are the tent and three plastic garbage bags (to keep stuff dry). Inside my garbage bag are my rolled-up sleeping bag, a towel, a change of clothes, and water bottles.

Cece, Liana, and Morgan are right behind us.

Poodles turns to face us. “Rachel, you're burning up. Did you put on sunscreen?”

“Yeah, but it doesn't seem to be working. You're bright red too.”

Carly passes us the bottle and we reapply.

I dip my hand into the calm water. “How much longer, do you think?”

“It's only eleven, so two more hours,” Carly replies.

“Isn't it beautiful?” Poodles says, admiring the mountainous scenery.

I gaze around. “Like I'm living in a postcard. If only it weren't so hot. I wish I could jump in.”

“Don't,” says Carly. “You'll never be able to get back on the boat without tipping us.”

“I know, I know,” I grumble.

Poodles cups her hand, scoops up some water, and dribbles it on her forehead. “Try that.”

I lean over and make my hand a cup and—

We rock to the right. Uh-oh.

We rock to the left. Uh-oh again.

“Careful, Rachel!” Carly screams.

We rock back to the left, and into the water we go.

Splash!

I land facedown in the lake, and the railing of the canoe smacks me on the calf. “Ow!” I wail. How in the world did I manage to do that? I didn't lean over any more than Poodles did!

Laughter echoes from a few yards away.

I lift my head above the freezing-cold water to see the girls in Liana's boat howling.

Did she do that? No . . . she wouldn't. She's my cousin. She wants us to be friends.

“They are so obnoxious,” a dripping-wet Carly grumbles, slamming her fists into the water. “Liana'd better not come back next year.” Her teeth chatter. “God, this lake is like the Arctic.”

“Damn, my paddle is floating away,” Poodles says, swimming after it.

Unfortunately, Liana is laughing the loudest, which makes me think, Whoever smelt it dealt it. Don't assume the worst, I tell myself. She had no reason to tip my boat. She wants to get along with me as much as I want to get along with her.

So why is she still laughing?

As I tread water, Miri's voice nags in my brain, telling me to give Liana the benefit of the doubt.

Carly grabs hold of her garbage bag and tries to keep it above the surface. She giggles. “You're such a klutz.”

“No worries,” says Poodles, floating on her back. “That was refreshing.”

“Help me flip the canoe back over,” Carly says, swimming to the boat.

We gather around and manage to turn it over while climbing in.

As we carefully reach over to pull in our stuff, I look across at Liana's boat.

Sorry,
Liana mouths, smiling nastily.

The nerve! She did that!

Who does she think she's playing with? I'm a megel expert these days. I'll show her. Help me out, raw will! My fingers start to tingle. Raw will, don't let me down! I whisper:

“You're not so innocent, I'll bet.

It's your turn to get all wet!”

My arms feel rubbery and cold, and then I eagerly watch as Liana's boat sways to the right, then to the left, then back to the right—

Come on, come on, tip over!

—and then steadies itself.

Crapola.

Liana looks up at me and purses her lips, and the next thing I know, I'm back in the water.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Carly grumbles.

Some expert. Liana's the professional, and I don't even qualify for the PeeWees.

 

 

After two hours, we finally arrive at Harbor Point. We pull our canoes onto the beach, toss off our life jackets, and drag our stuff to a clearing a few yards away. Before setting up, we cool ourselves off in the water and then get ready to unpack our lunches.

Where are our lunches?

The food from our canoe has disappeared.

“You probably left it in the lake,” Rose says with a loud sigh. “You're lucky I packed extra veggie paste.”

Why do I have the feeling that Liana is responsible for this as well?

“Did you lose your drinks, too?” Liana asks. She reaches into her garbage bag and passes her water bottle to Carly. “You can have some of mine.”

“Don't drink it,” I say, my heart pounding.

Carly hesitates.

“Look, you want some or not?”

Carly shrugs and makes the reach.

“No, don't!” I shout, but it's too late. She's already guzzled half of it.

Carly blinks and then blinks again.

Then she looks at me with narrowed eyes. “What's your problem? I'm thirsty. Why shouldn't I drink from her bottle?”

That was fast.

“Yes, Rachel,” Liana purrs. “Why shouldn't she?”

“Because . . . because . . .” Because you've poisoned her into being your friend and hating me? “Because I saw a bug fly in.”

“I didn't see it,” Liana says. “Rachel, you're probably imagining things. Again.”

Carly laughs and my heart sinks. Forget my fly excuse; it's like
Lord of the Flies
around here. I'm losing people by the second!

“Here, Poodles, you can have some too,” Liana says, and offers her bottle to my last remaining friend.

Please say no, please say no!

“Nah,” Poodles says, giving Liana a pointed look. “I'm not into insects.”

 

 

After lunch, Poodles tries to talk me through peeing in the woods.

“Pretend you're on a toilet,” she says, her back to me.

“But I'm not on a toilet.” Instead of concentrating on getting the job done, I'm wondering if I should tell Poodles the truth. The
whole
truth, that is.

“Squat like you're in a public bathroom and you don't want your butt to touch the seat.”

Nah, I probably shouldn't. Tell her, that is, not squat. What if she tells someone? What if she mentions it to Harris? What if she thinks I'm crazy? My mom never told anyone—not even my dad. How can I blurt it out to someone I've known only a month? Instead, I say, “What if it goes all over my shorts?”

“It shouldn't if you're squatting properly.”

“But what if it does?”

“So take them off.”

I step out of my shorts and my bikini bottom and squat over the root of a tree. And then I try to pee. And I try again. “It's not coming.”

“Concentrate!”

This is harder than a megel.

It takes me about five minutes, but I finally get it. “That was disgusting,” I say. “Thank goodness for indoor plumbing.”

When I put my shorts back on, I notice they have a big ugly grass stain—right where the sun don't shine.

She couldn't have. Could she? I look around, but I don't see Liana. But that's no proof. Maybe she brought her own invisibility umbrella.

Next we tackle putting up the tent, which is no easy feat, especially since Carly has switched teams and is now insisting on sleeping with Liana, Morgan, and Cece, even though they have only a three-person tent.

“Why would you do that?” Poodles asks, thoroughly confused.

“Because I'd rather hang out with them,” Carly explains.

“But you hated them this morning.”

“That's not true,” Carly huffs.

“Let her go,” I say. I know there's no hope. “More room for us. Let the other girls make space for her sit-ups.”

Two hours later, we're finally finished. I didn't think it would be a promenade in the park, but we take ten times longer than Liana's group. That was to be expected, since Liana totally used her superpowers to help her. Not that I'm surprised. Just envious because my powers aren't as developed.

When we finally do get our tent to stand upright, we discover a dinner plate–sized hole in the tippy-top.

“How on earth did that happen?” Rose asks. “I checked them all before we left.”

That's a question I know the answer to. What I'm wondering is why.

 

 

I corner Liana while she's taking a swim. “Why?”

She leans her head back to wet her hair. “Why what?”

“Why are you trying to make my life miserable? I thought we were going to be friends.”

“You mean why did I tip your canoe, steal your friends, stain your shorts, and give your tent a big fat hole?”

She's not even going to try to deny it? “Yeah, that.”

“Because I don't like you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. That's the reason. You asked and I answered. Now get out of my way.” She strolls out of the lake like she doesn't have a care in the world.

I'm too shocked to respond. If she doesn't like me, then she could have zapped Raf into kissing her and then zapped the memory out of his mind just to ruin my life. What am I going to do? I take a few moments in the lake to compose myself. (Okay, that's a lie. I take a few moments in the lake because I'm afraid of the woods and I have to pee again, but that can be our little secret.)

 

BOOK: Spells & Sleeping Bags #3
4.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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