Tug-of-War (5 page)

“Devon, you look fine. Let's go or we'll be late for breakfast.” I ran a brush through my hair a couple of times and then tossed it on the shelf next to my top bunk.

I hoped every morning wouldn't be this stressful. I probably should've warned Devon last night about what the morning schedule was like. But then Betsy was new
too, and she'd caught on pretty fast. Probably because she didn't have Devon's intense beauty regimen.

I did feel bad for Devon, though. I knew how out of place she was feeling at the moment. She never got on my nerves like this at home, so I made up my mind to help her get adjusted today.

For breakfast we had French toast, bacon, and fresh fruit. When Shelby handed Devon the plate of bacon, she passed it to Kayla. “No, thanks. I'm not a carnivore.”

“Really? You're a vegetarian?” asked Betsy.

“Yes. I don't eat anything with a face.” Devon piled sliced cantaloupe and strawberries on her plate. Then she reached for a little box of cold cereal.

“Hey, that's pretty cool. I've always admired vegetarians.” Maggie nodded with what looked like sincere approval. “You know, choosing not to eat animals because there's so much other stuff you could eat. Could you pass me the fried pig flesh, please?” she asked, taking three slices when Boo handed her the plate.

Devon fluttered her eyelashes but didn't say a word.

After breakfast, Devon had hoped for a chance to shower and finish grooming. But we had bad news for her. We had to spend the rest of the morning at activities.

Maggie was looking over the activities list that was
taped up inside the cabin next to the morning job chart. “Ooh! Let's go to canoeing. If we pass enough progressions this week, we might be able to go on the first river trip.”

That sounded great to me. I looked at Devon hopefully. “Do you want to try canoeing? It's a lot of fun.”

She stared at me. “Have we met? How could you possibly think I'd want to paddle around a swamp in a leaky canoe?”

It was a good thing we weren't in a canoe right now, because she'd find herself suddenly swimming instead of boating. “Fine! What would you like to do?” I huffed.

“I'd like to lounge by the pool with a copy of
Vogue
. That's my idea of a vacation.”

That was just the kind of thing Devon and I loved to do at home, so I felt horrible for getting annoyed at her. “That sounds good for later. During free time. We'll get our suits on, grab some towels and magazines, and go lay out by the lake. You won't even have to get wet. But for now, we have to go to activities,” I told her.

“What happens if we don't?”

Maggie stood in front of the little square mirror, adjusting her Camp Crockett cap. “The counselors throw us in a cage full of rabid chipmunks.”

“Wouldn't surprise me in the least.”

I ignored them both. “Okay, these are our options: canoeing, riflery, tennis, crafts, or hiking,” I read from the list. I looked at Devon. “Pick one.”

Devon sighed heavily. “Crafts. I suppose that wouldn't be too torturous.”

Maggie made a snorting sound. “Crafts? No way! Crafts is totally lame. I'm not going to crafts.”

“Don't say that around Gloria. It's not her fault she's new and she got stuck being the crafts counselor,” I reminded her.

“So? She's not even in the cabin now. All you do in crafts is make lanyards.”

“What's a lanyard?” asked Devon.

“Look, it's Devon's first day. Let's let her pick the activities she wants to go to this morning. Then in the afternoon you can pick.”

“Thanks, Mommy!” Maggie hugged me. “But when do you get to pick?”

I could feel my face getting hot with anger. “I really don't care what we do, as long as we're having fun. Okay? Let's try to have fun today!”

“Yippee,” said Devon. “I can hardly wait.”

“Cheer up, Ghosty Girl! Let's all three be happy campers.”

Devon held up three fingers. “Read between the lines.”

Maggie grinned sweetly. “Nice manicure.”

“Let's go!” I snarled.

So on that note, my two best friends and I left for the Crafts Cabin.

It'll get easier,
I told myself. Not every day could be this much work.

But it didn't. At least crafts wasn't absolutely miserable. We made plates out of some kind of clay and painted designs on them. Then it was time to pick another activity. Surprisingly, Devon chose tennis. I'd never known her to play tennis before, but I was glad she was willing to try something new.

Tisdale, one of the tennis counselors, helped Devon and some of the other beginners work on backhands and forehands. Maggie and I took an empty court and started a match. Things were actually going fairly smoothly until Tisdale suggested that the girls she'd been working with try rallying with each other for a while.

“I'm supposed to practice the strokes I just learned,” Devon announced, walking right out onto our court in
the middle of Maggie's serve. Of course, I missed the return.

I ran to the corner of the court and scooped up the ball I'd missed.

“Off the court, Ghosty Girl! Chris and I are playing a match!” Maggie yelled from her side of the net.

Devon didn't even blink. There might as well have been a brick wall between Maggie and me instead of a net. “You want to play for a while? I think I could get the hang of this game with a little practice.” Devon swung her racket back and forth in a few practice strokes.

Maggie ran up to the net. “Are you deaf ? We're playing here, and you interrupted!”

Devon had this amazing gift for ignoring people when they got on her nerves. She walked right past Maggie to the other side of the court. Then she called to me, “Okay, ready when you are. But go easy on me to start.” She gripped her racket in both hands, using the ready position that Tisdale had just showed her and the other beginners.

Maggie and I stood by the net. Her mouth fell open. “Palechild's got some nerve! She just barged right into the middle of our match!”

When I glanced at the other courts, I could see that everybody else was already paired up in doubles
or singles groups. Tisdale was watching them and calling out reminders to follow through on their strokes. Now what was I supposed to do?

I turned to Maggie. “She doesn't have anyone else to play with, so let's just rally with her for a while. Then we'll finish our match.”

As I walked over to Devon's side of the court, she glanced at me. “I thought we were going to play each other and let Beefaroni sit out for a while.”

I hated this! Whatever I did to make Maggie happy annoyed Devon and vice versa. I felt like I should be sliced right down the middle.

“Devon, Maggie wants to play too. Look, three is an odd number in tennis. We don't have a fourth to play doubles. Want me to sit down and you can rally with Maggie?”

“No, let's just do it the way you said—us two against what's-her-name over there.”

“Serve!” I yelled to Maggie on the other side of the net.

Maggie served, all right. She hit every serve right to me instead of Devon, so I had no choice but to hit it back to her, and she kept the balls coming to me and me alone. It didn't take Devon long to catch on, and when she got bored and inspected her nails for a
second, that was when Maggie decided to hit the ball right to her.

“Wake up, Palechild! I
thought
you wanted to play!”

“Not bad for a primate,” Devon called across the net. “Does
National Geographic
know about the amazing tennis-playing gorilla? They could do a photo spread of you in the next issue.”

This torture lasted for another twenty minutes until the bell rang. I've never been so relieved to have activities come to an end.

I had a slight break during lunch and rest hour, but then it was Maggie's turn to pick the afternoon activities, like I'd promised.

“Canoeing. I've been waiting all day for this. Let's go!” Maggie yelled. Betsy waved good-bye to us and left with Shelby.

Devon hadn't moved from where she lay on her bottom bunk, a copy of
Vogue
in front of her face. Most of our friends read
Seventeen
. I think Devon probably read that in preschool.

“
Vamos
,
chica
. Rest hour's over. Time for activities,” I told her.

“You and King Kong go without me. I'm going to stay in the cabin and read.”

Wayward was just waking up from her hour-long
nap, so I turned to her for support. “We have to go to activities, right, Wayward?”

Wayward smiled. “Whatever. Go to activities if you feel like it, Devon. Or you can chill in the cabin. Be Zen.” She put on her sunglasses and plaid hat and walked out.

As cool as Wayward was, in some ways it might've been nice right at this moment to have a counselor who was a little more into the rules.

“Come on, Devon. You have to come with us.”

Devon wouldn't even lower her magazine to look at me. “Right. Or I'll get thrown into a cage full of rabid chipmunks. Actually, I'd rather be eaten by chipmunks than spend the afternoon in a leaky canoe.”

“Okay! See ya later,” said Maggie cheerfully.

“Devon, Maggie went to all the activities you picked this morning. The least you can do is go to canoeing.” I stood planted beside the bunk beds, determined not to move until she did.

“Fine, whatever. I'll go. But I'm not going to like it.”

We were out the door and halfway to the lake when I noticed she had her magazine tucked under her arm. “Are you kidding me? You brought your copy of
Vogue
along?”

“Of course. I need
something
to entertain myself.”

“You do realize we'll be in canoes, right, and not on a cruise ship?” I asked her.

“Don't remind me.”

At the lake, all the canoes were lined up by the edge of the water. Michelle Burns, the perky canoeing counselor with curly blond hair, was going over terminology with a group of girls.

“Port is the left side, starboard is right. These are the gunwales”—she pointed to the canoe's side—“and the front is the bow and the back is the stern.” Then she demonstrated a few strokes before we got out on the water. Maggie and I had canoed some last summer, so we already knew the basics.

“When's the first river trip?” asked Maggie.

“Next Monday. Interested in going?” Michelle asked with a grin.

“Definitely!” said Maggie.

“Not,” added Devon.

Then Michelle said we could get into canoes and try out what we'd learned. Typically, there would be two people to a canoe, but as usual, the three of us had to stick together.

“I'm in the stern,” Maggie called, wading out into the lake a little ways and climbing into the back of a canoe. I got in and sat in front of her.

Devon stood on the grassy edge of the lake and raised one eyebrow. “How am I supposed to get in?”

“What do you mean, how are you supposed to get in? Wade out and climb in!” Maggie yelled impatiently.

We were a foot or two away from the shore. Devon seemed to expect us to push the canoe all the way up on dry land and let her step right in.

“Wade in? I'm not going to
wade in
. These shoes are new.”

I looked down and saw that Devon had on a new pair of canvas shoes with black laces that were so dazzlingly white I practically had to squint to look at them.

“You could take them off,” I pointed out. I'd changed into my new clear, waterproof high-tops, and Maggie had on Crocs, so we'd been able to wade in, no problem.

“I refuse to take my shoes off. You scoot to the middle and let me climb in the front,” Devon suggested.

“Whatever! Just so long as we do this sometime today,” I growled. Already Meredith Orr and a new girl named Patty Nguyen were in the water and halfway across the lake.

Maggie swung the canoe around so the bow was pointed toward Devon, and I moved carefully to the middle, the canoe rocking slightly from the movement.

Then Maggie paddled forward so that the bow was
right up against the lake edge. Now Devon could literally step right in without getting wet. Maggie stuck her paddle down into the muddy lake bottom and held it to keep us from drifting while Devon climbed into the bow.

Once Devon had a seat, Maggie moved us away from the shore. I slid my paddle forward in the canoe so Devon could reach it.

“If you're sitting in the bow, you'll have to paddle,” I told her.

Devon didn't touch the paddle. Instead she sat perched on the canoe seat, thumbing through her magazine, while Maggie was busy paddling with all her strength in the stern.

“Devon, you have to paddle!” I yelled. “Stop reading and help out!”

“Yeah, Ghosty Girl. I'm doing all the work here,” Maggie called from the stern. She swung her paddle forward and flicked the blade up so that droplets of water hit the back of Devon's shirt. “Come on, let's see some arm muscle.”