Frieda Wishinsky - Camp Disaster

Copyright 2016 Frieda Wishinsky

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Wishinsky, Frieda, author
Camp disaster / Frieda Wishinsky.
(Orca currents)

Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4598-1114-0 (paperback).ISBN 978-1-4598-1115-7 (pdf).
ISBN 978-1-4598-1116-4 (epub)

I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents
PS8595.I834.C36 2016 jC813'.54 C2015-904530-4
C2015-904531-2

First published in the United States, 2016
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015947566

Summary: In this high-interest novel for young readers, Charlotte has to find a way to stand up to bullies at summer camp without becoming a target herself.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts,and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover photography by Getty Images

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
www.orcabook.com

19 18 17 16 4 3 2 1

For my friends Helaine Becker, Deborah Kerbel and Mahtab Narsimhan

Contents

The door to cabin eight creaks open, and Im smacked on the nose by a pair of frillypink underwear. I duck as a green T-shirt and three pairs of black socks fly towardme.

Girls are shrieking, laughing and throwing clothes. A long-legged girl with big blackglasses is leaning against the pillows on her bed, reading. No one notices me.

I spy my name over a bunk near the window and edge my way over. I drop my duffelbag and backpack beside my bed. A shoe grazes my arm and hits the window behind me.

Whats going on? Wheres the counselor? I know her name is Abby.

A chunky, older girl stands in a corner, hugging her arms to her chest. Stop, girls,she mutters.

That must be Abby!

The girls ignore her. Their shrieks get louder. Their clothes fly faster and harder.Someone throws a book.

Abby takes a step forward. Please. Before something breaks.

A green lamp on a nightstand crashes to the floor near me.

The shrieks, the laughter, the throwing stop. Abby, get a broom. I dont want glassin my foot, snaps a girl with long straight-as-a-board brown hair.

Abby blinks. Me?

Yes. You. The girl with the brown hair mimics Abbys shaky voice. Youre the counselor,arent you? Thats your job. Thats what my mother is paying you for.

Abby doesnt move. The rest of the girls surround the long-haired girl, waiting.

I cant stand it. I grab a broom in a corner. Ill help.

Abby swallows hard. Thanks.

I sweep as Abby holds the dustpan. No one says anything. Two girls nudge each otherand giggle. Everyone watches us dump shards of broken glass into the garbage can.

We finish and Abby hurries into the next room.

The long-haired girl turns to me. Who are you?

Charlotte Summers. Who are you?

Madison Moore. Madison scans my face, my battered red duffel and my frayed graybackpack. How did you get here?

I feel like Im being drilled by an army general. My grandmother drove me from thecity.

Mine drove me too. An hour ago. We live in River Heights. Where do you live?

Near Birch and Oak.

Oh. Madison draws her words out like a long wad of gum. She knows my neighborhoodis run-down. Nothing like her neighborhood, expensive River Heights, with its glossytowers overlooking the river.

Madison points to the door of the counselors room and rolls her eyes. Abby hasno idea what shes in for. What a wimp.

Two girls nod. The long-legged girl peers over her book. Why do you have to be somean, Madison?

Madison makes a face. Mind your own business, Ellie.

Ellie shrugs and returns to her book. Her clothes are neatly folded on the shelvesbeside her bed.

I unpack my suitcase. I place my sketchbook, pencils and markers in a drawer. I lovesketching. I sketch all the time at home. People, trees, our apartment, the viewof the street from my bedroom window.

Abby pokes her head into the room. Dinner in ten minutes, she says. Her eyes arepuffy and red. She closes her door, and its quiet again.

Did you see her face? Shes been bawling her eyes out, says a short blond girl.I actually feel sorry for her. The girl combs her hair in front of a mirror witha pink sequined frame. She must have brought the mirror from home.

Give me a break, Olivia, says Madison. She shouldnt have taken the job if shecant deal with teens. And she cant. Trust me.

Madison is right, says a girl with shoulder-length red hair and a freckled nose.

Madison beams at the red-haired girl. Stella understands.

Youre right, says Olivia.

What do you think, Char-lotte Sum-mers? says Madison.

About what?

About Abby, of course. Shes pathetic, right?

I dont know her yet, I say.

Youd better make up your mind soon. Madison wrinkles her nose as if I smell bad.It can get lonely at camp.

My heart thumps so loudly Im sure everyone in the cabin hears it.

Ive only been here an hour and I already hate Camp Singing Hills.

Its 6:45 AM. Most of my bunkmates are asleep except for Ellie, whos reading. Madisonis two beds over from me, and most of her clothes are still piled on the floor.

I turn over and try to fall back asleep, but its useless. I was excited when Grandmasuggested I spend my last year as a camper at Camp Singing Hills. Grandma wantedto give me a treat before I began high school.

Start you off right, said Grandma. And youll make lovely new friends.

A treat? Lovely new friends? Madison, Stella and Olivia arent lovely. Why are theymean? Why do they want me to take sides? I just want to make friends and have fun.This isnt fun.

At seven I slip out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. I wash my face. I grab mytoothbrush, but before I can squeeze out toothpaste, theres loud banging. I peekout to see Madison and Olivia pounding on Abbys door. Get up. Stella is hurt.

The door flies open, and Abby rushes over to Stellas bed. Stella moans and rubsher leg all the way down to her blue-polished toenails. Madison and Olivia hoveraround her. Cant you see she needs help? Do something, Abby, Madison demands.

Whats the matter, Stella? asks Abby.

My leg, Stella groans. It hurts.

Is it broken? asks Jen as she slides out of her bed and hurries over with Sarah,whose bed is beside hers.

Stella shakes her head. I dont think its broken, but it hurts like crazy. I needthe nurse.

Can you stand on your other leg? asks Abby.

Maybe. A little. Help me.

Abby extends her hand. Stella grabs it so tightly that Abby winces. Oh, oh, Stellagroans. She slides to the edge of her bed. Abby bends over to help her stand. Stellawraps her arms around Abbys neck. She slips into her blue flip-flops.

The pain. The pain, Stella groans.

Everyone in the cabin is up. Even Ellie peers up from her book. No one says anything.Its like were watching a movie.

Madison and Olivia exchange looks, and suddenly I know. Stella isnt hurt.

Jen and Sarah nod and exchange looks too. Lucy and Trish, whose beds are near mine,poke each other in the ribs. From the looks on their faces I can tell that all thegirls in the cabin think Stella is acting, but no one says anything. Sweat poursdown Abbys face as she struggles to help Stella stand.