 
### Camp Life

by

Lucinda Maison

Copyright 2015 Lucinda Maison

Smashwords Edition

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Electronic adaptation by www.StunningBooks.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

About the Author

" _Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back-- Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now_."

Origin in question, attributed to Goethe, John Anster's translation of Faust, and/or W. H. Murray in _The Scottish Himalaya Expedition_ , 1951 (from the website of The Goethe Society of No. America)

Chapter One

Jake

The brochure lay on the table, glossy photos of smiling faces, lots of words about who knows what. He averted his eyes, oozing silent ridicule. What was his mother saying now? he thought, tuning in briefly again.

"Honey, you have to do something this summer, I can't just leave you alone all day. It's only for 3 weeks, and by then I'll have finished this project and be able to work from home. This place sounds really good!" she pleaded. Brown eyes stared into his, willing him to agree with her, to be reasonable. Jake shifted slightly away from her, giving a quick shake to his dark hair, and allowed himself to glance down at the table.

"Camp Life," the brochure said. Whatever that meant! He rolled his eyes.

She continued to watch him, and when he couldn't stand the silence any longer, he broke it, bursting out, "You don't know anything about that place! What kind of a camp is called "Camp Life", anyway? It sounds really lame to me! I don't want to go! I'm 13 years old and I can stay by myself!"

His mother frowned and shook her head. She drew back, drew away from him. "That's exactly what you can't do. You've proven you can't be trusted, so while you're out of school, I have to find someone else to keep you in line and out of trouble. You should have thought of that before you took up stealing for fun!"

She reached around him and picked up the brochure, waving it in front of his face. "You're going here and that's it!" With a flick of her wrist, she threw it back down on the table and stalked from the room.

Jake felt a tear leak from his eye and quickly swiped it away with his sleeve. "Whatever," he thought. "I don't care."

Once again, the memory washed over him. The screeching sound of tearing metal, the blackness that followed. He remembered bits and pieces of that evening; dressing in black, black pants, black shirt, black shoes. Sneaking out his window and waiting down the street for Jarod to pick him up, using a baseball bat to break the McCluskey's window, helping Jarod carry stuff out to the car...

Why had he agreed to help Jarod rip off the McCluskey's? he thought for the thousandth time. Easy, he answered himself, because he was bored. Because Jarod had said Jake was a pretty cool dude for being only 12, but that he needed to prove himself now. Jarod's 10-year-old brother, Luke, had been helping his brother boost stuff for years.

Six months later, the confused pictures continued to replay in his mind. Jake remembered Jarod's face, laughing as he loaded up the car with the DVD player, the laptop, and a fistful of Mrs. McCluskey's jewelry. The laughing face dissolved, replaced with fractured images of lights in the road, Jarod with blood running down the left side of his head, Jarod crying and yelling, Jarod being wheeled away and lifted up into the ambulance. Jake hadn't seen him since. He'd heard that Jarod had been sent to some juvenile jail-type place, but there had been no word from him.

Jake thought of something Jarod used to say a lot, and it seemed like a really good time to say it. "Life sucks," Jake mumbled, head bowed.

Chapter Two

Toby

He concentrated as hard as he could, holding the wand in front of him and willing the amulet to move. Nothing. He glanced back at the bottom of the page, where he had used a green highlighter to color the instructions. He couldn't see that he was doing anything wrong, but it wasn't working! He flipped back through the book to the section on telekinesis, read a few lines, then forward again to the chapter on magic and motion. Maybe it was the wand. The book said to use a 10-inch length of hickory, but all he could get was a stick from the pecan tree in the backyard.

"Toby!" Mrs. Curran called from the kitchen. "Come and have some lunch before it's time to go!"

Toby sighed. He packed the book and the pecan wand in his duffel bag, and shuffled out the bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

"Hi, sweetheart!" his mother exclaimed, turning and giving him a big hug. "Since you're going to be eating camp food for awhile, I made steak sandwiches for us," she smiled at him, gesturing to the table.

Toby took in the sandwiches, the neatly cut up chunks of fresh pineapple, the tiny squares of cheese on crackers, and the large glass of milk. He felt warmth flood him, and mentally pushed aside his 999th failed attempt to perform some magic, any magic. "Thanks, Mom! This is great!"

"Your dad is going to leave work early and we should be on the road by about 2 o'clock." She paused, looking at him closely. Toby had inherited his cat-shaped blue eyes from her, as well as his head of dark, curly hair and small frame. Bright, sharp eyes continued to study him closely.

"How are you feeling about all this? I mean, you'll be gone for three weeks." She knew he was an oddly mature, self-possessed child, yet still a child. Sometimes when they talked, she forgot he was her son and a young boy. He was just a person she loved being with, someone precious, wise, and funny. Then she would find him in the bathtub, surrounded by Mr. Bubble, wearing a snorkel and mask and singing underwater, and she would remember, "Oh, yeah, he's an eleven-year-old boy."

Toby gazed at his mother's face, saw the concern written there. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "I might not like it if I was going to just a regular camp, but this one sounds different. It's not just stuff like canoeing, riding horses, doing crafts...it's more interesting things."

Mrs. Curran didn't mention that she had reservations about the camp, although a good friend of hers had recommended it. The brochure sounded odd. Even the name of the camp was strange, "Camp Life". That narrows it down, she thought wryly. It did offer some of the activities of a normal camp, like swimming and hiking, but it also listed things like "Dream Working" and "Real World Magic", the later of which had caught Toby's attention.

The brochure didn't go into great detail about the individual activities, but Toby liked the names. Other camps offered activities related to magic tricks, but he wasn't interested in cards or pulling rabbits out of hats. He wanted to learn REAL magic, and he knew it was possible. His parents had tried to reason with him, explaining that there is no such thing as magic. Toby didn't really believe in Harry Potter, but he knew there had to be magic in the world, it just made sense to him. He hadn't been able to figure out how to get any object to move a fraction of an inch and he hadn't been able to speak a spell or incantation or wave a wand and think something into being, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible! He figured that if the camp really taught magic that worked, everybody would want to go there. It would be so cool to learn how to think something and make it real, how to wish for something and get it...Who wouldn't want that?

Chapter Three

Dara

One more lap, just one more, she told herself. Dara's Rules: "You have to push yourself past what you think you can do, if you're going to make it," in this case, to the Olympics in a few years. She flipped over and pushed off the wall, gliding under the water, then coming up and turning her head for a quick breath, one arm smoothly reaching, legs rhythmically fluttering. Touching the far wall, she rolled over onto her back, breath coming in short gasps. A pair of size 13 wingtips appeared at the edge of the pool, and Dara brought her gaze up to her father's face.

"I saw the last few laps," he said brusquely. "Pretty sloppy."

Dara suppressed a sigh. "I was tired. I did some extra laps today, just to see if I could," she explained.

Her dad nodded. "Well, you'll need to train extra hard if you're going to make it, but you'll never make it doing sloppy work. You have to do it right!" He held out a hand to pull her out of the pool, then stepped back and grabbed her towel. "Here."

She held the towel up to her face, exhausted, trying to keep her legs from shaking.

"You know, your mother and I agreed to let you go to camp this summer only if you agreed to do your laps every day while you're there. You can't possibly miss almost a month of conditioning just so you can goof off and play in the woods. We've spent a lot of money on your training, taking you to swim meets, all kinds of things. We expect you to hold up your end of the bargain."

Dara's Rules: "Don't ever try to defend yourself, it's not worth it." She'd learned that Rule by breaking it a bunch of times; by age 14, she knew she could never win with her dad and it was a lot easier to just listen or at least look like she was listening.

Sometimes she got really discouraged; she wished her parents would understand. Her mom, well, she pretty much kept whatever she was thinking to herself, and her dad...He definitely did NOT understand. He kept telling her she should be grateful for the chance to compete, that HE never had that chance, and SHE better not blow it! Whenever she felt like quitting, and she felt like it plenty of times, she just imagined telling her dad. Nothing she could think of was worse than that, so she kept going.

Dara had heard about this camp from one of the teachers at school, Ms. Hindall. She didn't know a single kid in the 8th grade who didn't like Ms. Hindall. She always listened to what you had to say and she never, ever put anyone down. In fact, Dara didn't know anyone quite like her. Dara had told Ms. Hindall that her parents would let her go to a camp this summer, if it was one where she could swim every day, and Dara really, really didn't want to face another summer of swimming laps in the Jensen's pool, and not much else to do. Ms. Hindall told her about this Camp Life place; Ms. Hindall's sister worked there, and it sounded like it would be fun. She'd be able to swim, but there'd be lots of other things to do. There were also some classes she could take, but those she wasn't too sure about. It was summer; why would she want to take classes, especially something called "Get Real", or whatever it was that Ms. Hindall had talked about? Ms. Hindall had described it to her, and it just sounded weird. But she wouldn't have to do any of that if she didn't want to; Ms. Hindall said she could stay in her cabin all day long if that's what she wanted. Dara thought she'd really like doing just what she wanted to do, for a change.

Chapter Four

Caroline and Drew

Caroline scrunched up her face, stuck her tongue out the right side of her mouth, and waggled her fingers in front of her ears. Her baby brother screamed with laughter, banging his highchair tray with the cracker clutched in his fat fist. There wasn't much left of the cracker. Caroline laughed back at him, raked her fingers through his fine strawberry blonde curls, and carried an abandoned cup of pureed squash (so gross!) to the sink.

"Hey, Dork!" she heard someone say.

She turned slowly, pasting a smile on her face. Her older brother called her Dork when he wanted to annoy her. Caroline knew he was just teasing, it was only a nickname, but she always got a queasy feeling in her stomach whenever he said it. She shrugged it off, as usual, and smiled at him. They were 2 years apart, and Big Brother Drew was just that; at almost 15, he was already over 6 feet tall. He strode into the kitchen, impossibly large bare feet slapping against the tiles, and snagged a banana out of the fruit bowl.

"How's the squirt today?" he said pointing the banana at Brandon, who was busily finger painting with squash-cracker crumb paste.

Brandon looked up, let out a piercing squeal, and smiled hugely at Drew. Drew's answering grin made Caroline smile, too, since it mirrored Brandon's perfectly.

"Dad's going to be home around 5 tonight, and Mom's got class, so YOU can entertain him until then. I've got to study for my science final, and then pack for camp," she informed him.

Caroline loved science and she was good at it. Drew teased her about that, too, telling her girls were supposed to be good in English, not science. She laughed it off, telling him SOMEONE in the family had to be good at it, with a father who worked as a researcher at the university.

Drew definitely had not inherited the science gene. And even though he was built like a football player, he actually preferred skateboarding and hiking in the mountains to any team sport. He tried swimming for a while and did really good at it, but he just didn't like it enough to stick with it. His passion was art. It was a rare day that did not find him sketching on whatever flat surface came to hand. Their driveway chalk drawings had been the envy of the neighborhood. Early on, he had learned that it was not OK to draw crayon murals on the living room wall. In order to save the rest of the house from his itchy fingers, their parents had allowed him to do whatever he liked to the walls of his bedroom. Unsophisticated scribbles of jungle animals had given way to tractors, which in turn were replaced by painted space ships. Caroline wasn't sure how many layers of color were on his walls, but she figured the room was much smaller now than it was before her brother took up that first crayon. She loved its current incarnation, with ancient redwoods soaring up the walls and onto the ceiling, a stream running across his closet doors, and her favorite part, a shadowy elf glimpsed through ferns at the stream's edge.

When Caroline brought her elementary school artwork home to her parents, they usually said, "Tell me about this," so they would have some clue what they were looking at and which way was up. Her brownish glob with the blue, green, and yellow sticks next to it was, in fact, a dinosaur about to wade into the marsh. Drew's 3rd grade "bowl of fruit" had won 1st place in the Idaho State contest for art composition. Caroline's pictures went up on the refrigerator right next to Drew's. It was so humiliating!

Well, even if she was no good at art, she did better at team sports than he did, and she was definitely better at science. She hoped this camp they were going to would be fun for both of them. Drew wouldn't like it if he couldn't do something artsy-craftsy, and she wouldn't like it if they didn't have something to do besides the usual boring camp stuff like swimming and sing-alongs. From what they'd heard of it, this "Camp Life" place was different, but they really weren't sure what it would be like. Aunt Grace, their dad's sister, had told them about it; she spent some time there before the camp was opened to kids, and said it had changed her life. How this happened, Drew and Caroline weren't sure, but they did notice she was different. She had always been kind to them, but pretty much keeping to herself, never offering to play, never asking them about what they were doing, and rarely laughing. Ever since she'd come back, she seemed so much more relaxed. She laughed a lot, and when she saw them, she would hug them, ask them questions about themselves, and listen to their answers as if there wasn't anything more important in the world. She even looked different; Caroline imagined it was as if there had been this alien who'd taken possession of her aunt's body and kept her hidden away, and only the alien could make contact with the outside world. Somehow the alien got zapped while her aunt was at the camp place, and she was free again.

Drew said it was like a personality transplant. Caroline disagreed; to her, it was more like someone's soul getting out of prison. Whatever had happened to Aunt Grace, it was a really good thing. It made Caroline wonder exactly would it would be like at this camp, whether they'd have to do some awful touchy-feely stuff, like the school counselor did, or maybe sit and meditate on a rock for hours and hours. She really hoped it wasn't anything like that. Drew was more forceful about it; he said he wasn't going to do anything he didn't want to do, and he was going to take full advantage of the stuff he did want to do, like paint and draw and sleep.

Chapter Five

Travel

Jake stared at his shoes, willing this moment to be over and done. His mother stood before him with anxious eyes, clearly wanting to give him a hug goodbye, but waiting for him to make the first move. She had stopped hugging him the previous year, when he told her it embarrassed him. He felt like that shouldn't have stopped her, but it did. He wondered what his dad would have done, if he had been there to see him off. Stupid thought, he chastised himself. His father would have been drunk by this time of day and in no shape to go anywhere. He'd taken off when Jake was 8 years old, no goodbye, no nothing, just gone. His mom said some people handle their problems by running away, and his dad was one of them. Jake didn't know which was worse: having his dad lying around drunk for days at a time or not seeing him at all. His dad had called once, about 4 months after he'd left. Jake remembered his mother clutching the phone, listening grimly with a face like stone, then handing the phone silently to Jake. Jake accepted the receiver gingerly, feeling as if time had stopped, like everything in his life depended on whatever he heard in the next few moments. But it hadn't been like that at all. His father gave him a cheery hello, asked him how school was going, and generally acted as if he was away on a business trip somewhere instead of having skipped out on his family without a word. No apology, no remorse or anything. To Jake, it was clear he just didn't care. His dad hadn't called again, after that one time. Jake didn't think about him much, except times like these, when he saw other families together.

He noticed a couple laughing and gesturing with their to-go coffee cups at the boy who stood before them with his fists held out, obviously asking them to make the age-old choice, right hand or left. The woman reached out and tapped the boy's left hand and he turned it over, smiling triumphantly. He uncurled his fingers and held up his palm to show there was nothing there. The man handed his cup to his wife and covered the boy's right hand, turning it in his own. The boy pulled it away, then held it up to show that it, too, was empty. They all laughed, and the man grabbed the boy around the waist, pulling him in and tickling him, the boy squirming and giggling.

Jake's eyes slid around the dirty terminal, saw other people slumped in chairs, bored gazes fixed on nothing in particular. He stared down at his Nikes and when he heard the garbled announcement for his bus departure, risked looking up at his mother. She was fighting to hold back tears, but he could see them shining in her eyes.

"Jake, could I just hug you goodbye? I don't want to embarrass you, but I'm going to miss you so much!"

Jake pretended reluctance, then opened his arms a little to show he would allow it. His mother slowly put her arms around him and held him gently. Suddenly, her arms tightened and she was clasping him to her fiercely. Jake felt the wetness of her tears on the side of his face, and an enormous lump in his throat that he tried to suppress. He rested his cheek on her shoulder and for just a moment, allowed himself to feel. His mother slowly released him. He heard her shaky indrawn breath, watched her step back from him. All he could do was nod, as he turned to join the line for his bus.

The 4-hour drive to the camp was fun for Toby. The three of them chatted happily about the trip they were going to take when Toby returned from camp. They had taken a vote; Mrs. Curran wanted to go to some place tropical, Toby had dreamed of swimming with dolphins and watching sea turtles, and his dad would go anywhere that had a good golf course. Mr. Curran did some research on the Internet and found a resort in the Gulf of Mexico that fit all three requirements. Toby would return from camp and have about three weeks at home before they left on vacation.

As the hours ticked by and they got closer to camp, though, Toby started feeling more nervous. He had never been away from home except for an occasional sleepover, and didn't know if he would really like staying at this camp. He hoped he would, and he hoped they could teach him what he wanted to know.

Dara checked inside her bag one more time. Yes, the essentials were still there, among the other stuff: three swimsuits, her toothbrush, her writing tablet, and _Brisingr_ , the third book in the _Eragon_ series. She loved fantasy/science fiction, and took guilty pleasure in writing stories she never showed to anyone. She had several notebooks full, carefully hidden behind the comforter on her closet shelf. Dara had been saving the _Eragon_ sequel for camp, which hadn't been easy. She kept picking it up and reading the back cover and then the first few lines of Chapter One, but she always managed to put it back down again. Willpower, she admonished herself.

"Dara, we're ready to go!" she heard her father call from downstairs.

She grabbed her bag, taking a last look at the poster of Orlando Bloom as Legolas flanked by her collection of stuffed dragons, fairy figures, and a life-size cardboard replica of Aragorn, from _Lord of the Rings_. The shelf above her bookcase held her swimming medals and trophies; she barely glanced at them as she closed her door and skipped lightly down the stairs. She didn't realize it, but she had something of the elvish grace displayed by Legolas; swimming had made her strong, but out of the water, her movements were sprightly, her slender body tall and straight. With her long, almost white-blonde hair, a pair of pointed ears would not have looked out of place.

Her mother waited at the foot of the stairs, smiling up at her, but saying nothing.

"Well, don't just stand there, Jean, we need to get on the road!" her dad said sharply.

Without a word, her mother backed up and headed for the door, leaving Dara to follow. Dara looked at her dad, wishing he wouldn't speak so angrily all the time. It seemed like he was always upset about something. The only time he was happy was after Dara won a race. Then he'd smile and pat her on the back, and they'd go out for a sundae or something.

"Come on!" he urged, bringing her back to the present.

She went out through the garage and hopped in the back seat behind her mother. Her father stowed her bag in the trunk, and started the car, backing down the driveway as he pressed the garage door control.

One car ride and two plane rides, and she would be at camp. Or wherever the camp people picked her up so they could take her to camp. Ms. Hindall had said she could stay in her cabin all day long if she wanted to; Dara thought dreamily of _Brisingr_. Maybe she'd just spend a whole day reading, and come out only for food. Her promise to swim laps every day was a faint memory in the back of her mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Parker, and Mr. Parker's sister, Grace, were gathered around Caroline and Drew. Brandon was there, too, riding happily on his mother's hip. Caroline and Drew each had a rolling backpack, tickets tucked neatly into the front pouches. Aunt Grace turned first to Caroline. She looked into her eyes, then pulled her into a surprisingly strong hug.

"I love you, sweetie," she said in her soft voice, and Caroline could actually feel that she did. She gave her Aunt a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Drew waited his turn and was not disappointed when his Aunt put her arms around him, and though he dwarfed her by about a foot, her hug was strong and tight. It was just amazing to him how things had changed between them. Aunt Grace turned from him and plucked Brandon away from his mom, so his mom would have her arms free to say goodbye. There were more hugs and kisses, and Brandon blew an enthusiastic raspberry that had them all laughing.

Drew and Caroline looked back and waved once more before trudging through to the passenger's only section of the terminal, backpacks trailing behind them. They made their way to the gate, where the boarding line was already forming, and politely thanked the airline chaperone who had escorted them onto the plane, keeping to themselves their very firm belief that such escort was totally unnecessary. They felt like seasoned travelers; they had been flying together, without their parents, to their grandmother's house every summer for the past 4 years.

Drew had already claimed the window seat for the first leg of the trip; Caroline would have her turn on the next. "Well, did you pack all your science books, brainiac?" he teased, as he tightened his seatbelt. Caroline rolled her eyes.

"It's summer, remember? I'm going to concentrate on having fun!" she replied. She was quiet for a moment, and then shared something that had been bothering her ever since they had decided to go to this camp.

"Do you think they're going to make us do any stuff like chanting or meditating or...I don't know, airy-fairy things?" she finally produced.

Drew looked down at her and read real concern in her face. "It's not like this is some cult or anything. You know what Aunt Grace said; we don't have to do anything we don't want to do." He paused, thinking. "I wonder about the stuff they do there, too, but then I think about what happened to her and I figure it can't be bad. I hope I'm right, anyway," he shrugged.

Caroline nodded. She would just have to wait and see.

Chapter 6

Arrival

The plane had taxied to the jetway, but they weren't allowed off yet. Drew stood and retrieved their backpacks from the overhead compartment, as they waited impatiently for the line to start moving. Caroline was stooped, staring out at the Dallas sunshine, feeling a few nervous butterflies in her stomach. People started trudging up the aisle, so she turned and grabbed her backpack off the seat, following Drew's tall form.

They thanked the pilot and flight attendants who were standing at the exit, and went through to the terminal with yet another airline escort. Someone from the camp was supposed to meet them by the baggage claim area, so they followed the signs, backpack wheels squeaking as they walked.

Dara strode through the Dallas terminal thinking that it looked a lot like Lindbergh Field in San Diego, which looked a lot like the Phoenix airport, where she'd changed planes. The person from Delta had helped her find the right plane in Phoenix, and now another Delta lady was taking her to the baggage claim place to get her suitcase and meet up with the camp people. She was used to traveling either with her parents or with the swim team, so it was kind of scary to be alone with all these strangers. She was grateful that the Delta people had been so nice to her.

At the baggage claim area, the conveyor hadn't started moving yet. People were milling around, talking with each other or silently staring at the empty luggage chute. Suddenly, a buzzer went off, a blue light flashed, and the belt lurched into motion. After a minute, bags appeared at the top of the chute and came sliding or tumbling down. Dara watched, fascinated; she liked to imagine stories about where all these things came from. There were all kinds of luggage, suitcases and duffel bags big and small, oddly wrapped packages, a stroller folded and bound with duct tape, and many identical looking black overnight cases. Behind a crate stamped Hawaii and bearing a picture of a large pineapple, Dara spotted her blue bag. She reached for it as it came around, and hefted it off the belt. The Delta lady helped her move it farther away, and they both stood to look for someone from the camp. They spotted a lady with a neon orange baseball cap partially covering her blonde ponytail, holding a sign that read "Camp Life". Next to her was a girl who looked a little younger than Dara and a very tall boy, both with identical straight brown hair. At their feet were a couple of backpacks and two large duffel bags.

The Delta lady led Dara over to the lady holding the sign, who introduced herself as Stacy. "Well, you've got her now, so I'll be on my way," said the Delta lady, smiling at Dara.

Dara thanked her and watched her walk away, before turning back to Stacy. She also glanced briefly at the other two kids, feeling a little shy. Stacy gave her a big smile. "Dara, we're so happy you're going to be with us for awhile! This is Caroline and her brother, Drew, from Idaho."

Drew looked down at Dara, but not that far. She topped Caroline by half a foot. He stuck out his hand, something his parents insisted upon when meeting anyone new.

Dara glanced at his hand for a moment, then shook it rather gingerly, an uncertain smile on her face.

Caroline looked up at her admiringly. "Where are you from, Dara?" she asked.

Dara turned her attention to Caroline. "California," she replied. "Near San Diego."

"Oooh, that must be fun! Do you get to go to Disneyland a lot? We went with our family last year for the first time. I loved it!" Caroline enthused.

"Yeah, it's a pretty special place," Dara admitted, smiling more naturally this time. "We go there about once a year."

"Lucky!" sighed Caroline, causing her brother to laugh suddenly. She looked up at him with her brows raised.

"You sounded just like Napoleon Dynamite..Luckeee," he mimicked.

Caroline had to laugh, too. There probably wasn't anyone in Idaho who hadn't seen that movie and most kids knew a large part of the dialog by heart.

Dara didn't know the movie and was looking puzzled. Stacy was laughing, too, and said they had the movie back at camp and she could watch it if she wanted. She said that it was the kind of movie that grew on you...or not.

She herded them out the door with their bags and led them to a silver van with "Camp Life" lettered across the side panel. Stacy opened the back and the kids shoved in their luggage before climbing into the van. Stacy hopped in the driver's seat and as she pulled out, told them the camp was about 90 minutes away. Caroline and Dara had their heads together in the back seat, the conversation changing back and forth rapidly, with lots of gesturing, exclaiming, and laughing. Drew rode shotgun and was content to gaze out the window. As much as he'd tried to reassure his sister, he was really glad that Stacy hadn't shown up in robes smelling of incense or anything like that. He didn't like airy-fairy stuff any more than Caroline.

Jake saw the guy with the "Camp Life" sign even before the bus had stopped completely. He was standing near the curb, talking to another man in a bus driver's uniform. The camp guy was just a little taller than Jake, but looked much more solid, with wild blonde-brown hair and cool-dude sunglasses. He was wearing khaki shorts, and if he'd had on a safari-type shirt instead of a royal blue t-shirt with a picture of Mr. Peanut on it, he would have looked like that Crocodile Hunter guy, Steve. It came to Jake suddenly that he reminded him of Jarod somehow...Jarod, who got him into stealing, and then went out of his life in a blur of red light. Jake pushed the thought aside, holding on to his backpack as the bus stopped. He jumped off the last step and ambled over.

"Are you Jake?" the camp guy asked, his voice a low, deep rumble.

Jake nodded, unsmiling.

The camp guy held out his hand. "I'm Ron, from Camp Life. Glad to have you here," he said, his speech Texas slow and thick, his eyes locked on Jake's.

Jake reluctantly clasped hands, not meeting Ron's gaze.

Ron turned to the bus driver with whom he'd been speaking and shook hands with him. "See you around, Gus. I've got to get Jake here out to camp. He's probably starving and I know there's a great dinner waiting for us tonight."

The man called Gus clasped hands briefly, giving a nod to Jake before walking away.

The bus driver from Jake's bus was unloading the cargo, and Ron and Jake walked over to get his bag. Jake hadn't said a word yet. The mention of dinner did get his attention. He had eaten a hamburger and fries at the last meal stop, and he was used to eating a lot more and a lot more often. He'd grown 3 inches in the past 6 months and it seemed like he was always hungry. His mother marveled at where it all went on his lanky frame.

"This way, Jake," Ron said, leading him out to the parking lot past a shiny red Ram pickup to an ancient Ford truck. It was a sickly green color, like they used to paint Forest Service trucks back home in New Mexico. Ron tossed the bag and the Camp Life sign in the back.

Speaking for the first time, Jake said, "Found on Road Dead?" looking at the truck with undisguised revulsion.

A corner of Ron's mouth turned up. "Would you prefer a Fix It Again, Tony?"

That drew a reluctant grin from Jake, who would have much preferred a Fiat to an old Ford truck. Something silver and fast, like the roadster in his XBox game.

Ron noted Jake's grin, satisfied for the moment. "The camp van is busy picking up a group at the airport, so we get the service truck." They got in and Ron turned the key, the engine starting right up with a powerful hum. He glanced over at Jake. "She's not pretty on the outside, but her insides are beautiful," he commented.

Jake responded with a noncommittal grunt, looking out the window.

"It'll take about an hour and a half to get there, so you can take a nap, play the radio, whatever you want. If you pick a station I can't tolerate, which means rap, then we'll have to find a compromise."

Despite the heat, Jake was still wearing his jacket; he pulled his IPod out of his pocket, held it up so Ron could see, then put the ear buds in. Ron nodded, and turned back to the road. This one is in a lot of pain, he thought to himself. We'll see what we can do about that.

Toby's mother peered at the map, told his dad to take the next right. The road soon turned from asphalt to hard-packed dirt.

"This place is out in the boonies!" his dad commented.

"Did you see the population sign on that town back there?" his mother asked in disbelief. "It said 324. 324 people."

Toby's hometown in Oklahoma had thousands and thousands of people. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to live in a place this small. Everyone must know everyone. Wouldn't they get bored? There hadn't been a movie theater or a water park or anything much that he could see. The only fast food place was an old Dairy Queen; not even a Taco Bell!

They bounced and jolted over the dirt, watching the pastures and scrub brush pass by.

"We should be getting close," Mrs. Parker said. "The brochure says it's 4 miles from that turn-off."

Just as she said this, they went over a rise and saw a wooded area and another dirt road leading off to the right. One of those old ranch signs was suspended between two tall posts, but it didn't say "Triple Bar T" or "Rocking J", like the ranch signs Toby had seen in the movies. This one said "Camp Life".

Chapter 7

First Impressions

Stacy brought the van to a halt beside a plain-looking log building. Drew saw a number of small cabins scattered on the grassy slope running down from the hard-packed dirt parking area. He slowly stepped out of the van, stretching his cramped legs, and walked around back to help with the bags. The chatter from Caroline and Dara had wound down during the last half hour, and they were both looking a little uncertain as they surveyed the camp.

"You can leave your luggage on the front porch here," Stacy said. "I'll take you inside first and show you around, and we'll find out which cabins are yours."

They stepped onto a short boardwalk that ran beneath a wisteria-covered arbor to the front door. As soon as they were through the door, they were greeted by a tall redhead, model-thin and with the bluest eyes Dara had ever seen.

She smiled, encompassing all of them. "Welcome! I'm Noreen. You've come at the perfect time. The weather has been great and we are lucky to have Ron back with us this month; you don't know him yet, but he's another of the counselors, and a terrific person."

Stacy added that Noreen was also one of the counselors and an excellent person to go to with any questions or problems. She introduced Dara, Caroline, and Drew, and led them off to take a tour of the lodge.

The first room they came to looked like an old hunting lodge, with peeling log walls and a humongous open fireplace. The grate was empty, which made sense since it was about 85 degrees outside, Caroline thought. There were stuffed animals on the walls, and Caroline did a double take, noticing that they really were stuffed animals, toys, not actual animals that someone had shot and stuck parts on the wall. There was a trout made of some shiny rainbow material with sequins for scales, a large moose head with calico antlers, and a fleecy bear that appeared to be smiling.

No one else was in the room, and Dara wondered where all the other kids were. As soon as she had that thought, she heard a burst of laughter from another room. Stacy walked through an archway into the room beyond, which was about three times the size of the previous room and had a couple rows of long plank tables and benches, and at the far end, some cushy chairs and two old-fashioned sofas arranged around a big screen television set.

There were kids on one of the sofas and more in the chairs. They looked up appraisingly as Stacy, Drew, Caroline, and Dara entered.

Stacy strode up to them and nodded at everyone. "Hi, I'm Stacy. I take care of the cabins here, play chauffeur, sometimes cook, and various other things. This is Drew and Caroline, from Idaho, and this is Dara, from California."

A girl with long, ruler straight black hair and dark eyes stood up and said her name was KiKi. In response to Stacy's question, she said she lived in New York.

Stacy turned to the other three and just looked at them; after a pause, they each introduced themselves. There were twin brothers from Utah, Sean and Patrick, whose faces looked identical, although one had short brown hair and the other wore his in a scruffy shag that hung over his collar and into his eyes. They eyed the newcomers with friendly curiosity, slight smiles drawing up the corners of their mouths.

"Hi, I'm Corinne!" the second girl practically shouted. She looked a year or two older than Caroline, maybe close to Dara's age, with frizzy blonde hair that stood out in a halo around her head and purple-framed cat-eye glasses. A black net bolero jacket over a t-shirt of eye-popping hot pink and orange topped a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and zebra striped fuzzy slippers. Bouncing off the couch and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, Corinne spoke in a loud, rapid-fire voice. Words running together, she told them that she was from a nearby town in Texas, then shot question after question at them, seldom waiting for answers.

Dara had never met anyone like her and listened in a kind of fascinated trance.

Caroline was staring at her, head cocked to one side, as if Corinne was a particularly interesting specimen in her science lab.

It was left to Drew to try to answer her questions, which ranged from "What's it like in Idaho/California?" to "Have you ever been to a camp before?" right on through to "How many people are in your families, what are their names, and do you have any dogs?" Drew did his best to be polite, but privately wondered if she was on drugs. It was exhausting just listening to her.

Stacy told them all they would be sitting down to dinner in another hour. She asked if the others had already been given a tour, and when Corinne answered that they had, Stacy led the newcomers over to the far wall, where a tall bookcase held row upon row of DVDs. She said they were free to watch anytime except during meals or if the room was being used for some other activity.

Drew glimpsed a boxed set of all six Star Wars movies, and was cheered.

Caroline saw _Freaky Friday_ , the Lindsey Lohan version, _Flubber_ with Robin Williams, one of her all-time favorites, and _The Shaggy Dog_ , and she was happy.

Dara looked in vain for _Lord of the Rings_ , but didn't see it anywhere and was disappointed. Oh well, she thought, I can always watch that _Napoleon Dynamite_ they were talking about.

They trooped out through a side door, past a cement patio with a big barbecue grill, and down the hill. About halfway down, there were more kids playing volleyball on a sand court. Stacy didn't stop, just waved and kept walking. Dara caught the sparkle of sun on water up ahead, and her interest picked up. A little further on, and she could see more of the pool through an open gate. As they walked through the gate, all three of them made sounds of pleasure as they took in the size (nearly Olympic), diving boards (one low spring board, one 10 meter board), and slide (double-spiral). Caroline stooped to test the temperature and smiled when she felt the warm water. Dara thought it was beautiful and especially liked the slide. She was surprised to notice another feeling, almost like she wished the pool had been just a tiny thing so she couldn't really do laps in it, but she quickly shoved the thought away. It didn't make sense anyway; she was lucky to have a pool like this to practice in, and she had to keep practicing if she wanted to get to the Olympics, she reminded herself.

Jake and Ron rattled to a stop by the lodge. Jake took out his earbuds and stuffed his IPod in his pocket. They got out of the truck, and Ron lifted the bag from the truck bed and handed it to Jake, who took it with a mumbled thanks. Ron squeezed his shoulder briefly, and motioned him to follow.

As they headed toward the front of the building, a black Lexus with Oklahoma plates swung in next to the old beater Ford. Ron turned back and walked to the Lexus, saying to Jake as he did so, "Looks like some more newcomers. Let's go see."

Jake didn't want to go see and he didn't care about any other kids showing up, but he followed Ron, stopping 10 feet away from the car.

Three doors opened simultaneously. A wiry, genial-looking man of about 40 stepped from the driver's seat, stretching his arms above his head and looking around curiously. A small woman with black hair and smiling eyes got out, and from the back door came a boy clutching a Game Boy Advance. Dark hair framed his narrow face and blue eyes looked at Jake keenly.

Toby smiled tentatively, and Jake stared stonily back, arms folded. The boy's smile disappeared and he quickly turned to Ron, who held out his hand.

Toby looked down at the hand, then stuck out his own, and they shook.

"Welcome!" Ron said, a wide grin on his face. He turned to shake hands with Mrs. Parker, and then Mr. Parker, who had come around the front of the car to stand next to his wife and son. Ron glanced at Jake and introduced him, as well.

Jake moved a couple of feet closer and nodded his head. It was so boring and phony, he thought, Ron and these people making nice to each other, talking about the drive here... like anybody cared! So the kid was some Okie with an expensive car, big deal. He waited impatiently for the chitchat to end, and then trailed along after them as they entered the lodge.

When they came through the doorway, a red-haired lady greeted them and everything started all over again. Jake sighed audibly. This caused the redhead, Noreen was her name, to turn his way.

She looked into Jake's eyes and told him she was glad he was there. Jake's gaze shifted away and he shrugged a shoulder. She continued to watch him calmly, and when he looked back at her, she looked around the lodge entry and smiled, asking him if the place reminded him of anything.

Jake didn't intend to answer, but suddenly, a picture came to his mind; his eyes strayed to the side as he thought about a place he hadn't remembered in years, somewhere his mother and father had taken him in the mountains of New Mexico. It was one of the few times they ever went on a family vacation, and they stayed at this place that was a ski lodge in winter, only it was summer when they were there. Jake remembered the smell of the tall pines and the crispness of the air, and going fishing with his dad. His dad had beer with lunch and drinks with dinner, but he didn't ever get drunk on that trip. Jake was horrified to find his eyes tearing up, in front of all these strangers! What was wrong with him? He felt like running out the door.

"Did you just think of something, Jake?" Noreen asked gently.

Jake intended to deny that anything had come to mind, but was surprised to find himself telling Noreen about the time in the mountains. He fought hard to swallow the lump in his throat, and described the ski lodge where they had stayed and that he'd caught a 14" cutthroat trout and his dad got so excited he grabbed Jake and lifted him off his feet and they both fell on the grassy bank, laughing.

Jake smiled at the memory, his face losing its sullenness and becoming more animated as he spoke.

Mrs. Parker was privately shocked to witness the sudden transformation from scowling teen to handsome boy.

Noreen laughed at the story, and told Jake that if he was lucky, he might catch a polywog in the nearby pond, but that was about it.

"What's a polywog?" asked Toby, his intense gaze focused on Noreen.

"Well, it's what I called tadpoles when I was growing up," she explained. As she said this, she began to lead them through the next doorway. "If you'll come with me, I'll show you around."

Mr. and Mrs. Parker, Toby, and Ron walked after her. Jake waited a few moments before following. He was still puzzling over what had caused him to run off at the mouth like that. His memories weren't any of their business. All he wanted to do was get something to eat, then get away from all these losers and sack out in his cabin.

Chapter 8

Dinner

Jake eventually found himself assigned to Cabin 4, with 3 other guys. One of them was that geeky Okie, Toby, and the other two were twins from Utah. Utah was worse than New Mexico, he thought, with no particular idea why.

When Jake arrived at the cabin, the other three were already there, talking about some lame movie they all liked. Jake had seen it, but that was only because there hadn't been anything else to watch on TV. He threw his stuff on one of the bunks. They said hello to him and he nodded back. When it was apparent he wasn't going to say anything else, one of the twins, the one with short hair, asked him what it was like in New Mexico.

Jake straightened up. "Look," he said with exaggerated patience, "I'm here because my mom made me come. I'm not here to make friends, be one with nature, or learn some love your neighbor crap or whatever else they have planned for me. So do yourselves a favor and just leave me alone, OK?" He turned his back on them when he finished speaking and busied himself emptying his bag.

Sean looked at the other two and shrugged. "OK, man, have it your way," he said.

"Let's go eat!" Patrick said. Toby jumped up eagerly, and the three of them left Jake standing beside his bunk.

Dara and Caroline were thrilled to find themselves in the same cabin. They were not so happy to be placed with the exhausting Corinne. There were only the three of them, so far.

Corinne bounced out of the bathroom, talking rapidly as she went to her suitcase and started pulling clothes out and tossing them on her bunk. "What are you wearing to dinner?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she hurried on. "I'm thinking wild, I'm thinking bright...How 'bout this?" She twirled around, holding up a blouse with large geometric shapes in shades of lime green and fuchsia.

Dara blinked and opened her mouth, but before she could respond, Corinne threw the blouse back on the bed and grabbed a spandex bustier in chemical-spill orange. "A-hah! What d'ye think?"

Caroline swallowed and said carefully, "I don't think orange is the best color for you."

Corinne wrinkled her nose and stared at the bustier. "Hmmm, maybe not. But it's really hot on...you think maybe it's too much for the first real meal at camp? I mean, you know, meeting everyone, first impressions, all that..."

Dara nodded emphatically. She walked over to Corinne's bunk, selected a periwinkle blue tank with a row of black satin bows down the side. She held it up to Corinne's face. "Caroline," she demanded, "doesn't this color look great against Corinne's blonde hair?"

Thus prompted, Caroline said "Corinne, that color is perfect for you. It...it makes your eyes look almost purple instead of blue. You know, like they say Elizabeth Taylor's were. Or maybe that's violet..."

"Who's Elizabeth Taylor?" Corinne and Dara echoed.

Caroline looked shocked. "Elizabeth Taylor? She's an actress. You know, _National Velvet_ , _Cleopatra_. She looked from Corinne's uncomprehending face to Dara's puzzled one. "Well, I like old movies a lot," she explained. " _Singing In The Rain, Philadelphia Story_ , _Some Like It Hot_...?" she trailed off.

Corinne and Dara stared at each other and shrugged. "What's your all-time favorite movie then, Caroline?" Dara asked.

Caroline hesitated, finally saying softly "It's not a real old one, but I still love it. It's a kid's movie, _Flubber_. I really like science and there's something about that movie that makes me feel good. Even though it's not real science," she added quickly.

"I liked _Flubber,_ " Corinne said, surprising both of the other girls. "But my favorite is _Legally Blonde_." Dara and Caroline nodded their approval.

Caroline and Corinne turned to Dara. "What about you?" asked Caroline.

" _Lord Of The Rings,_ " she blurted.

Caroline and Corinne both wrinkled their noses at that. "What, all those gooey dripping monsters and stuff?" demanded Caroline.

"Swordfights and everybody getting holes poked in them?" added Corinne.

Dara drew herself up, her willowy form taking a rigid stance. "I didn't make fun of your favorites," she spoke with exaggerated dignity. "Everyone's entitled to make their own choices." Something tickled her mind as she said this, but she couldn't think exactly what it was.

Dara and Corinne both jumped in, stumbling over their apologies. "Besides," Corinne said with an impish smirk, "I do agree that Aragorn guy is hot!"

"Aragorn!" exclaimed Caroline. "What about Legolas? Now, he is"...she was staring at Dara and stopped speaking for a moment. "You know," she continued, "you kind of look like him. I don't mean Orlando Bloom, but like an elf, a lady elf."

"Yeah," agreed Corinne, staring at her, too. "If we put some Spock ears on you, you could pass for an elf."

Dara smiled at this, a great, big, beautiful smile that shone from the inside out, and momentarily silenced even Corinne.

Caroline and Corinne found themselves smiling in return, before Corinne said, "Hey, let's quit standing around, get our party clothes on, and get some food."

There was a sudden flurry of activity, and in a remarkably short space of time for three tween/teen girls, they marched out of their cabin and up to the lodge.

The dining room was noisy with kids and adults milling around, circling the tables like sharks, but no food had appeared yet. Toby and the twins walked in and were immediately swallowed by a group of boys gathered around a radio-controlled dune buggy that was going nowhere fast. Suggestions for repair were being shouted out, a screwdriver produced, attention fixed on the boy holding the remote.

Dara, Caroline, and Corinne entered on their heels, but Corinne led them over to the kitchen passthrough window, where KiKi and another girl were waiting for platters and bowls to be pushed through from the kitchen side.

"What is this?" challenged Corinne. "The womenfolk do kitchen duty?"

One corner of Kiki's mouth quirked up. She flipped a strand of glossy black hair off her shoulder. "We got a hot tip from one of the counselors. If you take the food to the table, you get to sit down and serve yourself some before the male population has a chance to devour everything. Do you guys have brothers?"

She answered her own question, looking at Caroline. "Well, you're here with your brother, aren't you? My brother's a couple of years older than me and I watched him eat an entire large pizza by himself once, AND a quart of milk."

The other girl nodded knowingly. "Yup, mine's the same way. My mom tells him he's got a hollow leg. All I know is that if I don't sit down right when the food gets put on the table, it's just gone!"

Steaming platters and bowls appeared in the passthrough and conversation stopped. Each girl picked up what she could, and they made their way to the tables, trailed by several boys.

A cowbell sounded and Dara spotted Noreen standing in front of the tables. She smiled at everyone and in a clear voice called out "Welcome, everyone!"

The chatter died down quickly. "You're probably all pretty hungry by this time, so we'll wait until after dinner to make announcements. When you've finished eating, bring your plates and utensils to the passthrough here, then have a seat again. Y'all can just dig in and enjoy the food!"

No one needed urging. Forks clattered on plates, bowls were passed up and down tables, gallons of water and lemonade disappeared down thirsty throats. Dara looked over at Caroline's plate and laughed. It was heaped with barbecued chicken, beans, salad, and cornbread, and Caroline was making short work of a drumstick, obviously very intent on picking it clean.

Dara exclaimed, "You're so skinny! How could you possibly eat that much?"

Caroline grinned at her over the chicken bone. "We scientists have to keep up our strength; it's hard work, y'know!" She put the now-clean chicken bone on the side of her plate and wiped her face and hands on her napkin. "You guys were talking about the way boys eat, but I actually eat more than my brother. He's really picky, and I like just about everything."

"Do you eat Brussels sprouts?" a girl seated next to her asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, I like those, and broccoli, too."

There was a collective "Eeeuuww!" from those listening. Caroline just smiled and kept eating.

Jake was seated by himself at the unpopulated end of a table that was only about half full. While he tried to be indifferent to the food before him, it smelled too good to ignore. He bit into a slab of cornbread with honey butter, and closed his eyes. Man, that was good, he thought. He chewed quickly and was ready for another bite when Ron plopped down in an empty seat beside him. Jake scowled, concentrating on his plate.

"Jake, I heard something from the boys rooming with you and I'd like to talk to you about it."

Jake's eyes darted around to see if anyone else could hear, but he'd positioned himself far enough away from others. He wondered how much trouble he was in. What could they do to him anyway, take away his canoeing privileges?

Ron didn't say anything else and after a minute, Jake looked up at him. He didn't want to speak, but found himself asking, "What?" to fill the silence.

Ron gazed back at him, but didn't look disapproving or angry, as Jake had expected. "I heard that you didn't want to come to this camp and that you weren't given a choice; is that true?"

Jake looked back at his plate and cleared his throat. Another minute went by and he thought about what to say. Ron continued to wait for his answer. Finally, Jake said in a low voice, "My mom made me come. She doesn't think I'm old enough to stay home by myself while she's at work and I'm out of school."

Ron nodded. "What do you think?"

"I think I can take care of myself!" Jake burst out in an undervoice.

Ron nodded again. Jake was getting irritated with the nodding.

"Why do you think your mom disagrees?" Ron asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

Ron continued to wait. At least he wasn't nodding, Jake thought.

The silence lengthened and Jake got uncomfortable. "I got into some trouble last year," he admitted reluctantly. "Stole some stuff."

Ron didn't look shocked. In fact, Jake couldn't see that his expression changed at all. "What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing much," Jake replied. He got a sudden flash of the headlights coming at him again, just like the dreams he'd been having for months. He winced and swallowed hard. He dared a glance at Ron and found him looking back, calm gray eyes focused on him. Their eyes met. Jake didn't turn away this time.

"I...a friend of mine...well, he wasn't really a friend, but this guy I knew..." He sighed and stopped, frustrated. When Ron didn't say anything, he went on. "This guy asked me to help him boost...steal from this house down the street, and I thought...well, I...I did it," he said in a rush. "It was the only time I ever did anything like that."

He paused, thinking. "After we got out of the house, we were driving away when this car came out of nowhere and smashed into us. I don't remember much about the accident. I saw these lights coming at us..." The memory flashed again as he described it to Ron, but didn't make him wince. "I broke my leg and was in the hospital for awhile."

Ron nodded again. This time, it didn't bother Jake.

"Is there anything else?" Ron asked.

"The guy I was with, he got taken away in the ambulance, screaming and crying. There was a lot of blood, but I guess he was OK. That's what I heard, anyway. I never saw him again." He shifted in his chair, sitting a little taller, feeling as though a bit of weight had been taken off his shoulders. "My mom told me later that he got sent to some jail for kids, and the only reason I didn't have to go there, too, was because it was the first time I'd done something like that. And because of my age." He was looking straight at Ron now.

"I'm glad you told me," Ron said.

Jake was shocked; he'd expected the usual adult lecture on learning his lesson or at least a disapproving glare.

Ron paused. "I want you to know that we don't let anybody stay here if they don't choose to be here. Even if you and your mother have different opinions about your ability to be at home alone." He looked at Jake thoughtfully. "Another thing that we require is that a parent or someone who functions in that role for the camper must be here for the last couple days of camp. Your mom has already agreed to come. I don't know if you knew that or not."

Jake's eyes had widened. "No, I...no, I didn't know that. I don't know what my mom would do here for 2 days." His mind had leaped forward, wondering if there was any chance his dad might show up. He kept this thought carefully tucked away where the faint hope it carried wouldn't do him too much harm.

Ron felt he'd said enough. He snatched a piece of bread from the basket in front of Jake and took a big bite. Then he grinned and took another. "That's good stuff!" he commented.

Without realizing it, Jake smiled back at him. "You should try it with the honey butter," he said. "It's the best I've ever tasted."

Ron picked up a knife and slathered honey butter on his cornbread. He bit into it and sighed happily. "Hmmm," was all he said, but his expression was enough to draw a laugh out of Jake, a surprisingly free and infectious sound.

Ron licked his fingers. "You have a decision to make, Jake. If you don't want to be here, I'll call your mother and explain our policy. If you want to stay, we'd love to have you. Your choice." He stood up. "Why don't you think about it until tomorrow, and then tell me what you decide at dinner?"

Jake agreed, and watched Ron stride off to get himself a plate.

Chapter 9

Camp Life

After awhile, the sounds of many voices grew louder than the scrape of utensils on plates. People were getting up here and there and bringing their empty dishes to the passthrough. Caroline debated having one more piece of cornbread, and decided she was too full. She was just sitting down again after taking care of her plate when Noreen came out of the kitchen and walked to the head of the tables. She looked around, smiling, and when things quieted down, asked "Better?"

There was a collective murmur of assent, and someone near the back shouted out a request to take a basket of cornbread back to his cabin. Noreen laughed, saying that food was not allowed in the cabins, but they were welcome to come to the kitchen and graze anytime between 6am and 10pm, except for the hour before and after each meal.

"If you saw our brochure or talked to someone who has been to this Camp before, you may have gotten the impression that we aren't quite like other summer camps...and you'd be right," she said with a lifted eyebrow. "We do want you to be able to meet new people and get to know them, and do fun activities, but we also want to give you the opportunity to learn some important things about life, about yourselves, and about other people. Every adult here looks at all of you and sees not a bunch of noisy adolescents (although you do a great impression of that...)"

There were a few grins around the room. "...but instead, or in addition, we see people, each with his or her own thoughts, dreams, and choices about what games you want to play in life. And when I say games, I don't mean volleyball. Well, I don't mean _only_ games like volleyball or football or even Monopoly."

"There are many things you do in life that you probably haven't thought of as games before. Where's Dara?" Noreen asked, scanning the tables.

She spotted pale blonde hair and a pair of nervous blue eyes fixed on her. "I talked with Dara earlier today and she gave me permission to tell you this about her." She smiled encouragingly at Dara and continued. "Dara has a goal to compete in swimming at the Olympics." There were murmurs of surprise and admiration. "She has chosen to play the GAME of being an Olympic swimmer. In order to play this game, she trains and practices over and over again so she'll have the skills she needs. If she wants to play the game of _watching_ the Olympics, what skills does she need?"

Drew raised his hand and Noreen nodded at him. "Knowing how to use the TV remote?" he said, smiling at Dara over the heads of the other kids and winning a lopsided grin in return. He'd eavesdropped on part of her conversation with his sister on the way to camp and got the impression she was smart and funny and...well, she just made him smile.

"Right." Noreen was saying, "She'd be playing the spectator game, a very different game from actually being an Olympic swimmer. There are all kinds of games in life, and the best thing is that you get to choose what you want to play and whom you want to play with. At your ages, there are some things you just don't have a choice about because you're under someone else's care, but there is still a lot that is under your control. I'll leave it at that, for now, and ask Shelley to come up and tell you about some of the things you can do here."

Dara saw a stocky woman with curly blonde hair stand up across the room and walk purposefully over to take Noreen's place. Dara took in her appearance and her rather beaky nose and thought this had to be Ms. Hindall's sister, though she didn't remember what Ms. Hindall said her sister's name was. When the woman spoke in a marked southern accent, Dara was sure of it. Ms. Hindall grew up in North Carolina, and Dara had always loved her soft drawl.

"We don't have a set schedule that you're required to follow here. There are usually a couple of supervised activities going on at any one time, and if you don't want to participate, you're free to watch a movie, read, play volleyball, or whatever. The pool is open from 9:30am to 8:00pm, and you can swim all day long, if that's what you want to do. Every day at 10:00am, 1:30pm, and 4:00pm there is one of the following activities going on: hiking, canoeing, horseback riding, arts and crafts, and whatever else we can come up with. Ron will probably pass on his rap-appreciation class this summer, although it's been a big hit in the past," she teased.

Ron rolled his eyes, stood up and pointed to himself, and everyone could see that he'd changed from Mr. Peanut to a shirt from a Tim McGraw concert, and a black baseball cap that read "I love country!"

"OK, so those of you who love rap, you might have to get together amongst yourselves," smiled Shelley. "We have some other options during those same time periods, too... those classes mentioned in the brochure, the ones that sound a little strange."

She looked around and saw a few heads nodding, a few pairs of arms crossing, and faces showing bewilderment, curiosity, or skepticism. Shelley smiled inwardly. "Oh, and for any of the activities that occur at a set time, you just need to sign up on the morning of the day you plan on participating. If you change your mind later and don't want to participate, you need to let us know. If you don't sign up in the morning and then decide you want to join in, just show up and if there's room, you can still do it."

"Anyway, the classes I'm talking about are called "Get Real", "Dream Working", and " Real World Magic". If you like to act, you'll like "Get Real". You get to play different roles and have fun pretending with each other, and near the end of camp, whoever participated in this group will put on some little skits for the rest of us. I have to tell you that if someone told me about this class when I was your age, I would have run for the hills. I was really shy and this would have sounded more like torture than fun to me, then." She stopped for a moment and glanced around the room, thinking.

"What's interesting is that I've seen kids who are like I used to be out there playacting along side people who are really outgoing, and everybody seems to have a great time. If you have even a fleeting thought that you might be interested, I'd encourage you to try it; if you don't like it, you don't have to continue."

"Another class is called "Dream Working". You may or may not know what you want to do when you become adults or even what you want to do next year; either way, this class is great for looking at what things you like, what you're good at, what you're drawn to. You'll be working with each other to get ideas about what makes you happy and what you might want to do now or in the future. It does involve drawing, painting, or other creative art, and coming from someone who is challenged by making stick figures, you don't need any particular artistic talent to do this. You can finger paint if you want."

Several people laughed, and Caroline looked at Drew and made a face. Drew smiled complacently, annoying Caroline.

"The third one is my favorite," Shelley continued, "called "Real World Magic". If you're interested in learning how to escape from a locked box or how to saw a woman in half, this isn't the class for you. Personally, I'd love to believe that Harry Potter is real, that a pair of ruby slippers can transport you home, or that twitching your nose can conjure up whatever you want." She noticed Toby staring at her intently. Dara was also sitting up straighter, listening closely.

Shelley shrugged and sighed. "Unfortunately, there is no Hogwarts, except in J.K. Rowling's wonderful mind, bless her, and we are left to see what magic we can make for ourselves. We might look closely at the definition of the word "magic". Funk and Wagnall's defines magic as any supernatural art, sleight of hand (a deception or trick), or any agency that works with wonderful effect. This class will not teach you how to wave a wand and cast spells, but through looking at things a little differently, you might see how you can create "wonderful effects" for yourselves."

"Well, that should give you a brief idea of some of the things you can get started on tomorrow. For now, we're going to start this camp session off by pretending to be a regular camp in the best way we know how... in other words, there's a large fire pit down by the volleyball court and in about an hour, Ron should have a pyromaniac's dream blazing away and we'll do s'mores."

A cheer rose up from the benches, followed by laughter, tapering off as Shelley continued.

"Now, Noreen is a traditionalist...or maybe I mean a purist. She likes her s'mores strictly by the book - graham cracker, Hershey's, and one marshmallow, toasted golden brown. I like to mix it up a little - graham cracker, peanut butter (chunky), Perugina dark chocolate bar, and then the marshmallow, heated, but without any brown."

"What about Ron?" someone called out. Shelley laughed. "Anybody have a guess?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Double chocolate, double marshmallow!" yelled a boy.

"White chocolate with coconut!" another voice called out.

Ron crossed his arms and shook his head sadly. Her eyes dancing, Shelley said, "Ron here likes fried-to-a-crisp marshmallows, no chocolate, no graham cracker. Everyone usually gives him their burnt mistakes." People groaned and Ron smiled, acknowledging them with a slight bow.

"There are a few rules we ask you to follow while you are here," Shelley continued. "The first will probably be the hardest for you...since part of our job is to support you in meeting new people and having new experiences, we ask that you leave your cell phones in your cabins at all times."

There was a general outcry, which quieted down quickly as Shelley continued. "You are welcome to use your cell phones in your cabins as much as you like, but please don't carry them around with you. Next, boys are not allowed in girls' cabins and girls are not allowed in boys' cabins."

A few people sniggered. "Finally, if you leave the lodge area to go on a hike, please check in at the front office first and let us know who is going and where. We also have trail maps and we can let you know where to find the best ones. Any questions?"

There were none. "Meet you out by the fire pit!" Shelley waved, turned, and walked through the kitchen door. She grinned as the door swung back for an instant, bringing to her the cheerful noise of benches scraping and excited chatter, before it closed with a muffling whoosh.

Chapter 10

Bedtime

"Ooohhh," groaned Sean. "I ate too many s'mores!" He flopped back on his bunk, legs dangling over the side. His brother walked passed, lifting up Sean's legs and tossing them up on the bed as he continued on to his own bunk.

Toby was sitting on his bed with his back to the wall. "I only ate two, so I don't feel so bad."

"I just ate chocolate and marshmallows," Patrick said. "Perfectly toasted, golden brown-on-all-sides-AND-the-ends marshmallows." He reached over his shoulder, grabbed a fistful of t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

Toby burst out laughing as Patrick dragged on his pajama top and turned around to face him.

"What?" he said, carefully smoothing down the front of his shirt.

"Dude, I cannot believe you wore that here!" commented Sean, shaking his head. "You do know this reflects badly on me, as your brother?"

Patrick looked down his nose. "People will probably be jealous because you have a brother with such good taste..."

Jake walked in at that moment. He hadn't gone with them to the campfire, but Toby noticed when he showed up later, accepting a hanger from Ron and making his own s'more (double chocolate, single marshmallow, barely toasted. People around the fire had started to make predictions about personality based on s'mores preference. Strangely enough, Jake's choice put him in the sweet-tempered, funny guy category. So much for that theory, Toby thought).

Jake shut the door firmly. He intended to keep his head down and go to his bunk without getting into any conversation with his cabinmates. Before he got further into the room, his eye was caught by Patrick's pajama top. He frowned, lips contorting weirdly; he struggled mightily and then lost it, his pealing laughter startling the other boys. "I would have expected Spiderman or Batman or even Vote For Pedro," Jake said when he got his breath back. "But that, that is classic."

Patrick puffed out his chest, the picture of Miss Piggy, complete with purple gown and tiara, expanding a little. "You see!" was all he said with a sniff at Sean.

Jake sobered quickly and walked to his bunk without another word.

Toby stared at him with his mouth slightly ajar, thinking maybe he had a split personality or something. How could a guy be such a jerk one minute, then laugh like that, then go back to doing his silent treatment thing? He just didn't get it. Toby looked over at Sean, who lifted his brows and shrugged.

Sean paused, looking disparagingly at his brother's shirt. He demanded "You have to tell them the background on that or they'll think you are too weird to"...he glanced at the other boys. "OK, maybe it's too late for that, but an explanation wouldn't hurt."

Patrick didn't say anything. Then he heaved a much put-upon sigh, and surprised Toby by saying in perfect Yoda-speak "Like me or not, they will." Toby gasped and looked from Patrick to Sean.

Sean shook his head. "His hero is Frank Oz."

"Who's Frank Oz?" Toby asked, puzzled. This did not seem to explain Patrick's shirt.

Patrick looked affronted. "Who is Frank Oz?! Frank Oz is Yoda. Frank Oz is Miss Piggy. Frank Oz is Bert and Cookie Monster! How could you not know that? He's an absolute vocal genius!"

Sean was smiling now. He saw that Jake was working hard trying to ignore them, while Toby just stared at Patrick with his mouth open. "Patrick does voices," he explained. "Go on, ask him for someone."

Toby thought a bit, then suggested uncertainly, "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Old or new?"

"Old," Toby answered with more confidence.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled _that_ out of the hat, Harry," Patrick said, his voice soft and a bit hoarse, a sweetly whimsical expression on his face.

Toby blinked. Jake was watching Patrick openly. "Snape!" Toby challenged, recovering.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death..." Alan Rickman's purring tones issued from a suddenly sinister-looking Patrick.

Toby grinned from ear to ear in response, but the next words came from Jake.

"How do you do that?" he asked, a puzzled frown drawing his dark brows together.

Sean answered for him. "He practices...and practices and practices. It is unbelievably annoying until he gets it right, and then it's fun."

Patrick added, "There are some voices I try and try and still can't get. It's really frustrating. But when I nail a voice, it feels so good," he said, a goofy grin that was all Patrick lighting his face.

"Can you do Vin Diesel?" Jake asked hesitantly.

"Ah, no, I haven't tried him," Patrick answered diplomatically. He searched his mind in vain for someone that might appeal to Jake. Finally, he offered, "I can do Crush, the sea turtle in Finding Nemo."

Jake allowed a small smile at this and nodded.

Patrick put on his best surfer/stoner face, head bobbing slowly up and down. "Taking on the jellies...You got serious thrill issues, dude."

All three of the other boys cracked up.

Drew lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. His sole cabinmate had passed on the fire tonight, preferring to stay in and talk with his girlfriend on his cell phone.

This was one interesting place, Drew thought. He had always been a people-watcher, noticing things that others didn't see or maybe didn't want seen. He'd noticed when Jake had sat off by himself at dinner, saw Ron go talk to him, saw Jake looking less pissy after Ron left. He was surprised to see him at the fire, figuring that he would stay away, but then he showed up. Maybe he couldn't resist the chocolate. Drew had known a guy like him in 6th grade, a huge chip on his shoulder, pissed off all the time...Drew thought he was just a hard ass until one day when he hadn't shown up at school for a few days. Drew had been waiting to speak with the counselor about helping at an art workshop with little kids; from the other room, he heard the counselor talking on the phone about this guy, Chase. She said Chase was still having a hard time since his baby sister died. Drew couldn't imagine how he'd feel if something happened to Caroline or Brandon. He was always ready to cut the guy some slack after that.

He didn't know if Jake had some horrible thing he was dealing with or what, but maybe being at this camp would help him...Or maybe not.

He rolled onto his side. That Toby was a sweet kid, he thought. Another one who didn't miss much. The kid didn't say a lot, but his eyes followed people and took it all in. Drew wondered what his story was.

The next face that popped into his head brought a smile to his lips. He saw in his mind's eye Dara's silvery blonde hair lit softly by the fire. She and Caroline and that other girl, the one who hardly ever shut up, Corinne, had sat together on a log, toasting marshmallows for each other, laughing, and acting like buddies. It was good to see Caroline with her nose out of a book. And it was REALLY good to see Dara, eyes closing in pleasure as she licked a bit of melted chocolate off the side of her hand or bursting out laughing as Corinne burned yet another marshmallow. Even Ron couldn't eat any more, she burned so many. Drew had tried to help her, pointing out a spot where the fire wasn't so hot and showing her about how close she could get before she'd get a flame-out, but she didn't listen well or maybe she just liked burning them. Yup, tomorrow was going to be interesting, he thought, turning on his side and falling instantly asleep, one hand tucked beneath his cheek, as he had since he was a little boy.

Corinne peeled off her purple faux fur jacket and sat on her bunk. She suppressed a melancholy sigh and turning, saw Caroline looking at her. She grinned quickly, exclaiming "Wow, was that an awesome campfire party or what? I think I beat my own record for burned marshmallows...7, not counting the one Drew made me burn when he forced my hanger into the flame and told me to just get it over with," she said hurriedly.

Caroline didn't smile. In fact, a small frown drew her straight brows nearly together.

"What?" Corinne asked nervously. "What's with the frown, why are you staring like that, huh?" She began folding and refolding the shirt she'd discarded earlier in the evening, not looking at Caroline or Dara.

Caroline wanted to ask her what she was really thinking about, but didn't feel she knew her well enough yet. The wild clothes, the rapidfire speech, the always-happy, bouncy Tigger personality...it just didn't ring true. She didn't comment on this now, though; after a moment, she smiled softly at Corinne, walked to her and gave her a brief hug, and said goodnight.

Corinne stared at her retreating back, baffled, but unwilling to find out what Caroline meant by it. No, it was better to avoid opening that can of worms.

Dara watched the exchange, but stayed out of it. She, too, had noticed that Corinne's exhausting perkiness slipped now and again, but she didn't want to get into it anymore than did Caroline, apparently. It will probably come out eventually, she thought. She said goodnight to the others and slid into bed. She'd had a lot of fun making s'mores and laughing with everyone, but tomorrow at 0930 she'd have to be in the pool, working off all that dessert and keeping her promise to her Dad. Maybe she'd have time to start the new _Eragon_ book. She closed her eyes and thought of Legolas, Aragorn, Obi Wan, and her other favorites, not thinking it strange at all when these heroes appeared in the camp pool, batting around a large rainbow-colored beach ball with an archer's bow, a sword, and a light saber.

Chapter 11

Let The Games Begin

Caroline wasn't too sure about being paired up with Corinne. Dara would have been her first choice, but she was swimming laps and wouldn't make it to the first activity at 10:00. Caroline was already feeling nervous about this Get Real class, but she was determined to give it a try. When she returned to the lodge after breakfast, there were 10 or 11 kids waiting around for the class to begin. Corinne immediately detached herself from a small group by the window and launched herself at Caroline, grabbing her arm and telling her she heard you had to have a partner, and here she was, wasn't it just perfect, and didn't Caroline think they'd have, like, the most awesome time?!

Caroline looked longingly at some girls sitting on the couch, talking in soft voices and smiling at each other. She swallowed and turned back to Corinne, gently disengaged her arm, and gestured toward the chairs lined up against one wall. She was saved from having to say anything when Noreen and Shelley strolled into the room. They greeted the kids, mostly girls, the twins and three other guys, and told them they would start off by dividing up into pairs. They were instructed to find chairs and turn them toward each other. Caroline glanced around as people paired up. Some of the couples were talking earnestly, others yawned and slouched in their chairs, and some didn't seem to know where to look, anywhere, it seemed, than at their partner. The twins simply stared at one another, giggling. Just as she walked past them, Caroline thought she heard someone chant "Fish are friends, not food". It sounded just like Bruce, the fishaholic shark in _Finding Nemo_. She shook her head. Weird. She and Corinne found chairs for themselves, then sat there, looking uncomfortable.

"OK, we'll start with a few words of explanation, then get right to it." Noreen gazed around the room with a faint smile on her lips.

Caroline peeked at Shelley, standing in the back of the room, and smiled nervously when she saw Shelley returning her glance. Shelley surprised her by sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes, then grinning at her. Caroline's face relaxed into genuine amusement, and she returned her attention to Noreen.

"People tend to learn best through practicing and experiencing things, rather than just reading or talking about them. You can read a book about how to fry an egg, but you won't know how it feels to crack an egg without getting any shells in the pan or flip the egg without breaking the yolk. Doing it yourselves, making mistakes, helps you learn how to not to do things, which in turn helps you learn how to do things. Our goal here is to give you the chance to learn through practice, so that when you complete the exercise you truly KNOW it."

She paused, giving them a chance to think about what she'd said. "This is the basis of all the learning activities at Camp Life." She smiled suddenly. "What is life, after all, but one learning experience after another? If that doesn't sound like fun, think about when you learned what a hot fudge sundae tastes like or when you learned how to hit a baseball or skip rope." Heads nodded in response and she got some smiles.

"First, I'd like you all to sit back and relax, and just be with the person across from you. If your mind wanders elsewhere, if your attention goes away from your partner, then notice when it goes and come back here again. It's not a bad thing if you "go away", we all do it, just notice it and come back."

Caroline had forgotten her own nervousness in watching Corinne, who alternated between staring into her eyes with desperate intensity and looking at the floor, breathing heavily. There was no trace of Tigger-ness about her. Caroline found herself willing Corinne to look at her, sending her silent messages of support. She heard Noreen begin to speak again and saw Corinne expel a huge breath.

"Believe it or not, that only took about 30 seconds," Noreen was saying. If you are "here" with the other person, you are fully aware of being with them and your attention is focused here, with the two of you. The opposite of this is being "not here" or "gone", which happens a lot with people. I don't mean physically gone; I mean being somewhere else in your mind or thoughts. Can you think of a time when you were sitting across from someone and instead of having your attention on them, you were thinking about what you were going to do the next day or remembering a conversation you had the day before?"

Heads nodded.

"Let's all try being "not here" on purpose, OK? Take turns being the person who is "gone"."

Around the room, kids could be seen staring blankly at the ceiling or the floor, slouching down in their chairs, tapping feet, or wiggling legs. Someone in the far corner was snoring loudly.

Noreen let it go on for a bit, then said, "OK, time to switch."

There was laughter, the sound of chairs scraping, and people rearranging themselves in their seats.

After awhile, Noreen called a halt to the exercise. "I saw some people that were brilliant at not being here! Very creative!" she commented.

"Now that you know what it feels like to be gone and what it's like to be with someone else who is gone, we'll go back to being here again. We'll try it for 1 minute this time, starting...now," she said, looking at her watch.

Corinne, who had relaxed slighted during the first exercise, immediately stiffened. A look of panic crossed her face; her eyes slid briefly to Caroline's, then away, staring with dogged determination at the floor. Caroline began to feel sympathy give way to anger. For some reason it felt like when Drew called her "Dork". She almost said something to Corinne, then saw Shelley come up to stand beside them as Noreen said "Time's up."

"What's happening, girls?" she asked, looking from one to the other. Noreen's voice faded into the background.

Corinne said nothing and would not meet Shelley's eyes. Caroline cleared her throat hesitantly. Shelley looked at her enquiringly. "Well, it...it seems like...like Corinne doesn't want to do this...or..." Caroline shrugged helplessly. She thought Shelley would talk to Corinne about it, but she continued to look at Caroline.

"What happened for you, Caroline?" she prompted.

Caroline looked off to the side, trying to collect her thoughts. "Well, at first, I was really nervous about doing this...I don't like, um, airy-fairy stuff." She paused, but Shelley merely nodded. "I felt a lot better when I realized that Corinne wasn't comfortable either, but then...well, she got soooo uncomfortable that I started feeling bad for her and I tried to, you know, make her feel better without saying anything." She hitched up a shoulder, not knowing if she was making sense.

"Was there anything else?" Shelley waited for her to answer.

"Yeah, but it seems kind of crazy or just stupid," she admitted, glancing quickly at Corinne and then away again

"Is it about green monkeys making cotton candy at Starbuck's?

Both Caroline and Corinne stared at her open-mouthed, then Caroline's mouth slid into a sheepish grin. "Not exactly. Actually, I got kind of, well, mad, when Corinne wouldn't look at me. I knew she was nervous, but I was mad anyway."

At this admission, Corinne gazed at her with a look more direct than any during the exercise.

"There was one more thing, but it doesn't make any sense," Caroline added, with an apologetic grimace.

Shelley smiled in understanding. "Lots of times when we can't make sense of what we feel or we get upset, it's because there's something we don't know, something hidden, or a connection we don't see, but it's there, just the same. When you can see it, can tell the truth about whatever it is, then it might make sense. And getting the sense of it will often make you feel better."

Caroline nodded her head vigorously. "Oooh, that reminds me of that hidden picture game, where you can see only a little bit of the picture and you have to guess what the whole picture is about. I remember one where the corner that was showing looked like an eye, so I thought it was a picture of a person, a lady. It turned out to be a peacock." She blushed a little. "Well, maybe that wasn't a good example."

"No, it was perfect, I knew exactly what you meant. Now, can you tell us the part that didn't make sense, the part of the picture you saw?" Shelley asked.

"What I saw...no, I didn't see it, I just felt it. When I got angry about Corinne not looking at me, I felt like I do when Drew, my brother, calls me..." She hesitated, but then finished, spitting out the word, "Dork". "

Shelley didn't seem to find this strange or stupid. All she did was thank Caroline (for what, Caroline wasn't sure), then said, "About being called Dork, is there something you haven't said to your brother? Something you'd like to say?"

Caroline surprised herself by immediately firing back, "I'd tell him I'm not a Dork and I don't ever want him to call me that again!" She looked slightly embarrassed, but felt a little better, a little stronger. She glanced around the room and saw Noreen talking to Sean and Patrick, and the other kids laughing and talking animatedly.

Shelley said "Good! Now say it as if he was here and in the same voice you'd like to say it in."

Caroline started to shake her head in refusal, then thought, what the heck. She drew in a breath and in a fierce voice proclaimed, "I'm NOT a Dork and stop calling me that!!"

Several pairs of eyes swiveled in their direction, but she didn't care. She felt exhilarated, her stomach unclenching, and she beamed at Shelley. "That felt good!" she said, "but I don't understand. What did that have to do with being angry that Corinne wouldn't look at me?

"I don't know," Shelley responded. "It's just what came up for you...How about you, Corinne? What was this like for you?"

Corinne seemed to have deflated. The wriggling, finger tapping, and foot jiggling had stopped completely while she listened to Caroline, eyes never leaving her face until Caroline stopped talking. Now she gazed at the floor and Caroline didn't think she was going to answer. The silence held for another few seconds and Caroline was conscious of the sound of Noreen's voice across the room, but not her words. Corinne finally brought her shoulders up in an exaggerated shrug, heaved a great sigh, and looked up at Shelley. She swallowed and said, "It's just hard to sit here."

Caroline waited, but Corinne didn't say anything more. She turned to Shelley with a puzzled frown, but Shelley's attention was focused on Corinne.

"Yes," Shelley commented, continuing to look at Corinne. Caroline wanted to say something to fill the silence, but something kept her still, waiting.

"I don't want to do this," Corinne said suddenly, with something of her old speed and forcefulness. "See you later." She jumped up and marched off without another word or look, orange and purple tie-dyed scarf trailing behind her.

Caroline watched her go, mouth hanging open, then asked of no one in particular, "Will someone please tell me what just happened?" She stared up at Shelley then, and said in a bewildered tone, "All we did was sit here for a minute with each other. What's the big deal?"

With a rueful smile, Shelley sat down in Corinne's vacated chair. "While you sat there for that minute, doing nothing else, one of the things you thought of was your brother and what he calls you. Is that right?"

Caroline nodded. Shelley asked her, "What do you think came up for Corinne while she was sitting here?"

"I don't know," admitted Caroline. "Haven't a clue."

"Neither do I. It may have been nothing or it may have been something painful for her to look at, so painful she physically left the room, physically "gone". I hope she comes back again."

"If it's painful, why should she have to remember it? Wouldn't it be better to just forget it?" Caroline asked.

Shelley smiled. "The trouble is, we don't really forget it, we just stuff it somewhere and use a lot of energy keeping it stuffed. If you are willing to un-stuff it, to bring it out and look at it, whatever it is, that can free up the energy you were using to keep it hidden. Then you can use that energy for something you really want."

"I'll come back and be your partner for the rest of the session, as soon as I have a word with Lauren. Have you met her, yet?" Shelley asked, inclining her head toward a petite black woman standing in the archway leading to the camp office.

Caroline shook her head. Shelley waved to get the woman's attention and beckoned her over. Lauren strolled over to Caroline's chair, offering her hand and an infectious grin that bared startlingly white teeth. Caroline smiled in return and shook hands. Shelley took Lauren by the arm and told Caroline she'd be back in a minute. Caroline watched the two of them hold a quiet conversation, then Lauren headed out the door in the same direction Corinne had taken.

Caroline spent the next couple of minutes planning what she'd say to Drew about calling her "Dork". She'd just rejected the third scenario when Shelley returned and sat down opposite her.

"I have a copy of the paper Noreen passed out," Shelley said, handing it to Caroline. If you read the first few sentences, it will tell you what we need to do next. Are you ready?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't know that I'd be any more ready with more time," Caroline replied candidly.

Shelley laughed softly and patted Caroline's shoulder. "Good girl! Why don't you read out loud for the both of us, OK?"

Build up: To increase or strengthen by adding gradually to; To bolster (American Heritage Dictionary)

Bolster: To support or strengthen (Collins Essential English Dictionary)

Put down: To belittle

Belittle: To represent or speak of as contemptibly small or unimportant; To cause to seem less than another or little (American Heritage Dictionary); To treat as having little value or importance (Collins Essential English Dictionary)

"The purpose of this exercise is to let each person experience what it's like to build up or cut down something or someone and to be built up or put down by another person; after participating in this exercise, each person should be able to recognize something that "builds up" versus something that "puts down".

When she finished reading, Caroline looked up, puzzled. "I understand what the words mean," she said hesitantly, "...I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Shelley nodded and motioned toward Noreen. "I think Noreen is getting ready to explain it for us."

Caroline tuned in to Noreen's voice. "This may seem like a no-brainer to you all. I doubt there is anyone in this room who hasn't consciously or unconsciously said or did something that built someone up and also something that put someone down. What we'd like you to do is practice this _consciously_. Pay attention to your _intention_ when you speak, and to the other person's intention when he or she speaks to you."

"If everybody clearly understands the meanings of these words, then we're ready to move on to the next step. Pick which of you will talk and which will listen, then we'll switch roles later. Shelley, would you come up here for a minute and help me demonstrate for them?"

Shelley got up and moved to the front of the room and she and Noreen faced each other. Noreen pointed at Shelley, who nodded back, then said "Noreen, I asked you to bring my sunglasses back today. You forgot them again, didn't you? Can't you remember anything?"

Instead of looking hurt or offended, Noreen merely nodded. She turned to the group of kids and asked "Does this sound familiar to anyone? Has anyone experienced something similar to this?"

Patrick put his hand up and gave a little wave. "Sounds like my English teacher. I didn't like English and I kept forgetting to bring my worksheets to class. She got pis...I mean, real mad at me."

The other kids laughed, and Sean lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. Noreen thanked him. "If you look at the definitions of "build up" and "put down" again, which do you think describes Shelley's intention toward me?" she asked.

"It's a put-down," Patrick shot back, with one side of his mouth quirked up. "Definitely a put-down moment."

Shelley and Noreen both nodded.

"Does everyone see it that way?" Noreen asked. Heads bobbed up and down in response and she continued. "I'd like one person in each pair to say something to your partner that is, as Patrick so rightly put it, "a put-down moment", and notice what that feels like. Then switch roles and let the other person make a "put-down" statement. Does that make sense to everyone?"

Heads nodded again and people turned back to their partners. Shelley returned to sit with Caroline, and Noreen walked around the room, stopping occasionally to talk with someone here and there, before making her way back to the front of the room.

Voices gradually faded. Noreen asked if someone wanted to share his or her experience of the exercise. Sean raised his hand. "I think Patrick is way too into this put-down thing," he complained. Everyone laughed and the guy sitting behind Patrick gave his shoulder a friendly shove. Patrick smiled modestly and shrugged.

"So, what happened, Sean?" Noreen asked, a smile in her voice.

"Patrick told me he understood why I had a hard time shooting from the foul line in basketball. He said he used to have the same trouble...when he was in Second grade."

He ended by glaring at Patrick, and the whole room was laughing and grinning.

Noreen looked at Patrick with her eyes very wide. "You really are good at this!" she said. "Let's turn things around and have the listeners become the talkers."

Sean eagerly swung back around to face Patrick, who straightened and cleared his throat. "Bring it on," he said through tight lips. Sean recognized Cuzco's voice from _The Emperor's Groove,_ and smiled in spite of himself.

Noreen gave them some time, wandering around the room again, then called for quiet with a raised hand. She pointed at Sean and asked him to describe how he felt after each of the exercises.

"Well, I had more fun with the second part, that's for sure!" he laughed. People smiled in return, and Noreen looked at him encouragingly. "I'm used to Patrick being insulting," he continued, "so that wasn't really a big deal..I mean, I don't like it, but it's nothing new. When we switched, at first I was glad because I figured it was sweet payback time, but then I started thinking I just wanted to come up with something so that he'd feel like I feel when he cuts me down."

"It worked," said Patrick shortly.

Sean looked at him, surprised.

"I got it, dude. It didn't feel any better than when Ms. Carlisle reams me for forgetting my stuff in English," he added. "Actually, worse."

Noreen thanked them and gazed around the room. "Anyone else have anything they want to say?"

A few hands went up and several told what it was like for them, and then Noreen asked their partners to do the same.

"Does anyone notice a common theme in all this?" she asked. She chose a pretty girl with dark, wavy hair in the front of the room.

The girl put her hand down and said in a soft voice, "It's like we all put people down, but we don't even realize we're doing it or we don't think about how the other person feels, even though we know how we feel when someone does it to us."

Heads bobbed in agreement. Caroline raised her hand, and when Noreen pointed at her, said, "A lot of times people are trying to be funny, except it's not really funny. It...hurts."

"Yes. People are usually pretty good at getting the meaning, the intention, behind the message, however much the message is...is spun to make it seem like something harmless."

"Now, we're going to flip things around and practice "building up". Shelley, do you want to come help me demonstrate this?" She faced Shelley and told her that she loved working with her, that Shelley's insight and good humor made her life better every day.

"Wow!" Shelley exclaimed when Noreen had finished. "Thank you." She turned to the group of kids. "That was so nice to hear! Do you see how something like that adds to the person instead of taking away?"

"No one has any questions? OK, decide on a talker and a listener and go ahead whenever you're ready," Noreen told them.

Shelley walked back across the room to sit with Caroline, as the room hummed with conversation. The tone was fairly low at first, but after a few minutes, the hum was punctuated with bursts of laughter, noises of disbelief, hoots, and chairs creaking as their occupants rocked and swayed. It went on for some time before Noreen called for quiet once more. She picked a few people to share their experiences, and it was evident that they had an even better time "building up" than "putting down", and had a good understanding of the difference.

"There's something else I'd like to add about this whole process. She looked around the room, her eyes settling on Patrick for a moment. "If "putting down" is taking away or detracting from a person, then it follows that "building up" someone means adding to that person. When somebody says something hurtful to you, betrays you, cuts you down, you may feel smaller and closed in on yourself. When somebody says something that adds to your understanding, acknowledges your accomplishments, praises your actions, shows that they enjoy you for yourself...you may notice that you feel bigger, happier, easier inside your own skin. Let's do one final exercise and then we'll call it good for this session. Pick one thing about your partner that you can use to genuinely "build up" and take turns telling the other person. When you are the talker, make sure you communicate your item clearly; listeners, be sure to acknowledge the talker so he or she knows you fully understood what was said. When you've finished, you can get up quietly and leave the room. You guys did a great job, today. Thank you for doing this!" She smiled at everyone in general, and walked to the back of the room.

The room filled with sound again as they took turns building up each other. Laughter rang out, and more and more faces wore relaxed, happy grins.

Some of the kids filed out of the lodge in groups of two or three, both Sean and Patrick went to forage in the kitchen, and Caroline stopped just outside, glancing around for Corinne. She didn't see her anywhere, or Lauren, for that matter. Despite not finding her quarry, Caroline walked briskly down the hill, a small smile lifting a corner of her mouth.

Chapter 12

Win-Win

Jake lay on his back in the narrow bunk, listening to the quiet cabin. His bunkmates had all lit out early, couldn't wait to go make lanyards or something, he thought with scorn. He sort of liked the quiet, no one bugging him to get ready for school or feed the dog or go outside and get fresh air. What was the deal with getting fresh air, anyway? Jake closed his eyes with a sigh, thinking he might go back to sleep until about noon. After 2 minutes, his eyes popped open and he realized with disgust that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe he should go check out the horses. They didn't talk and they might be better company than the other kids at this stupid camp. His stomach growled with startling force. First, he'd go raid the kitchen.

"Put the pad a little in front of his withers, where his neck starts, then pull it down onto his back," Ron said to a very short girl with a very long red braid down her back. She reached up high to get the pad over the horse's back, going up on tiptoes, but managed to do as Ron had instructed.

"Good, Sarah! You want the hair under the pad to lay down smooth the right way, not roughed up backwards. For a minute there, I thought we'd have to get you a bale of hay to stand on, or maybe a pony instead of this big boy." He put an affectionate hand on the gelding's shoulder.

The girl grinned as she gazed up admiringly at Nate, a 16-hand appaloosa with some thoroughbred in his history somewhere. She picked up a few wisps of alfalfa and held them under his soft muzzle. He sniffed carefully, then his upper lipped reached out to sweep the alfalfa from her palm with the softest touch. Sarah laughed at the tickling sensation, then stood back to allow Ron to put the saddle on for her. That was the deal, he'd said; she would curry and brush Nate and do the saddle pad, Ron would lift up the heavy Western saddle.

Sarah drew circles with her finger around the white silver dollar spots covering Nate's chestnut rump, at least, those she could reach. She looked at his stumpy tail and asked the question that came to mind. "Ron, what happened to Nate's tail? Did it get cut off or something?"

Drawing the leather strap through the cinch ring, Ron glanced back at Nate's tail with a smile. "No, his tail is just naturally on the skimpy side. It's an appy thing, like his striped hooves and the spots."

Sarah came around to stand at his head again, petting his long nose, and telling him it didn't matter, there were more important things than having a long, flowing tail. One large brown eye swiveled in her direction before he snorted, generously spraying her with bits of green goo.

Ron laughed, not unkindly, and pulled a kerchief out of his pocket, handing it to her to wipe her face. She thanked him, looking at Nate reproachfully.

Unfazed, Nate sighed, unweighted a hip and planted the tip of one hoof in the sand.

Sarah smiled ruefully, shaking her head before resuming stroking his nose.

"I'm going to go check on the others. Can you handle getting the bridle on him OK?" Ron asked. "You did just fine with it when I showed you before."

"I can do it," Sarah replied positively, with an adoring look cast at Nate.

Ron nodded and walked out of the barn, wondering once again what it was about the love affair between girls and horses.

Jake ambled into the barn from the brilliant sunshine and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. When he spotted the girl with the long braid, he decided to cut and run, but she turned and saw him before he could go out again. She was struggling to get a bridle-thing over this humongous horse's head, which just wasn't going to happen since she looked about 4 foot 2.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Jake, and, hands full of horse and leather, she motioned him over with her chin. "Hey, I'm so glad you turned up. I thought I could do this, but the time before this he put his head down for me so I could reach."

Jake looked uncertainly from her to the horse in silence. Finally, he asked, "What do you want me to do?" eyeing the horse warily.

"This is Nate and he's a big sweetheart, but, well, he's _really_ big! Would you mind grabbing the halter on his neck and pulling his head down a little?"

Jake didn't move, just stood about a foot from Nate's head, taking in the size of him, becoming more aware of the warm, rich smells of horse, horse dung, alfalfa, dust, and leather. He hadn't been around horses much, and when he had, they'd been a lot smaller than this one. "Couldn't they have found you a bigger one?" he said, stepping up to Nate and gingerly taking hold of the halter that was looped around his neck. He pulled down gently and was vaguely surprised when Nate agreed to lower his head.

Sarah slipped the bridle over his ears, checked to make sure the bit was in the right place, like Ron showed her, and buckled the cheek strap. "Thanks!" she said with a satisfied smile, turning more fully to face him. "I'm Sarah. Are you going riding with us, too?"

He opened his mouth to reply when Ron strode back into the barn. Crossing his arms, he shut his mouth again and didn't bother answering Sarah.

"Hey, Jake, are you coming with us?" Ron asked.

"I guess," Jake mumbled back.

"Have you spent much time riding horses before?"

"Once," he replied, eyes on the sandy floor of the barn.

Ron glanced at Sarah and Nate. Sarah was watching Jake with a small, puzzled frown. Nate was apparently asleep on his feet.

"No problems with the bridle, I see," Ron noted. "Jake, I think I've got the perfect horse for you. Come on over here and meet Squidward." He walked away, talking as he went. "And I don't want to hear any comments about his name. I didn't choose it, I didn't agree with it, but it wasn't up to me..." He shook his head in disgust, muttering something under his breath that sounded like "not a damn octopus".

Jake was struggling not to smile and when his eyes met Sarah's, he saw she was in the same boat. Her frown had disappeared and she had a hand over her mouth, but Jake noticed two large dimples high up on her cheeks.

They followed Ron a couple of stalls down and looked in at a blue roan gelding, a hand or so shorter than Nate, his extravagant, shiny black tail nearly brushing the floor. "Hey, Squid," Ron called, "turn around and show us your best side."

The roan remained with his rump facing the stall door, but craned his neck around to look at Ron. He seemed to debate whether moving was a good thing or not, then slowly shifted, presenting his head for Ron to scratch. Ron obliged, introducing him to Sarah and Jake at the same time. "He likes it if you scratch along his jaw, here, see? You want to try it?" He stepped aside so Jake could take his place nearest the horse.

Jake used his long fingers in what must have been just the spot because Squidward leaned his head into Jake's hand (his head was heavy! Jake thought) then stretched out his neck, upper lip lifting to bare his teeth in what passed for horsey ecstasy, Jake guessed. He shook his head, while Sarah laughed. Ron clipped a rope on Squidward's halter and opened the door to lead him out.

The sun shone hot and bright as the horses walked single file along a narrow path. Jake was beginning to relax, having spent the first 15 minutes or so concentrating fiercely on Squidward's every twitch and movement beneath him. He settled in the saddle and could feel some of the tension easing out of his thighs and hands. The horse seemed to pay no attention, ears forward, following along behind Nate, who trailed Ron and his black mare in the lead.

Jake heard Sarah addressing remarks alternately to Ron and to Nate, questions to the one and flattery to the other. Ron answered in his slow, deep drawl, Nate to all appearances ignoring her blandishments. One comment caught Jake's attention. Sarah had said something about "When I turned 13,..." She was his age? he thought. Vertically challenged, that was for sure.

There was another boy behind Jake, one he hadn't seen before. He was older than Jake, taller and with a lot more muscle, with spiky brown hair hanging over his eyes. Ron had called him Drew. He hadn't said much, just seemed to be looking around at everyone and everything. Apparently, he knew how to ride, since Ron had given him a horse called "Mischief". When Ron twisted around in his saddle and called back, asking if everyone was OK, Drew gave a little hand wave, but remained silent. Jake nodded, and Sarah gave an emphatic "Yes!"

Ron's mare veered to the left onto another path, this one heading upward between large boulders that obscured the surrounding countryside, except for the tops of the oaks and the taller mesquite. They leveled off for a short distance, then began to wind down the trail, the horses picking their way carefully on the rocky slope. Jake was focused on watching where Squid put his feet when he heard Sarah gasp. He looked up quickly and was surprised to see that the view had opened up, revealing rolling hills falling away from them into the distance. Close at hand, spiky blue wildflowers accented the green of a meadow flanked by oaks and some trees he'd never seen before. He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly at the heady scent of trees, sun-warmed grass, and horse. He felt...peaceful, grateful, somehow.

Drew gazed around the meadow, a smile of deep satisfaction playing across his mouth. His eyes were drawn to a flat-topped rock a little bigger than a hot tub. It looked as if it had been dropped from some giant crane into the middle of the meadow. The pale stone appeared relatively smooth, lichen grew in patches here and there, and stalks of wild buckwheat fringed the side facing the hills. Drew's fingers twitched and he glanced down at them, mildly surprised to find that they didn't hold a pencil or piece of charcoal. He let out a sigh, then concentrated on taking in the whole scene, memorizing the subtle shades of the stone, the stillness of the trees, the shady spots and the light gilding the rich blue of a flower he did not recognize, and another plant with many small branches topped by pink blooms. He barely heard Ron, who was saying something about the horses. He paid no heed, the meadow before him holding his absolute attention.

Fingers closed around his calf and gave it a quick shake and Drew jumped halfway out of his saddle. He looked down to find the girl, Sarah, smiling up at him.

"Are you going to dream all day or do you want to come explore?"

"What?" he blinked, looking around dazedly. The other horses were standing in the shade, tied to a rope strung between two trees, and Ron was motioning him over. He dismounted, nodding his thanks to Sarah, and led Mischief over to the others. The horse seemed happy to be out of the sun and not moving.

When he turned around, Drew didn't see the kid with the big chip on his shoulder, Jake. Sarah was nowhere in sight either. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring along some paper and his pencils, then shook it off, striding over to explore the first thing that had captured his imagination, the big flat rock.

Where was it coming from? Jake wondered. Must be a creek nearby, he thought, with growing excitement. Cocking his head and closing his eyes, he pivoted slowly, zeroing in on the sound, then opened his eyes. Looking down, he smiled ruefully. Brilliant. The path that began at his feet was barely a foot wide, but clearly visible as it led through the trees. Long strides carried him quickly forward and in a very short time he saw the ridge of brush that must border the creek. Jake pushed through a sparse spot and stopped abruptly, just in time to keep his feet from getting wet.

It was so clear! he marveled. Small stones of ochre, black, gray, and gold were visible on the streambed. The water rushed between a jumble of boulders to fall splashing and gurgling into the small pool below, then down a short incline, turning to the right before disappearing from view. The sounds brought a smile to Jake's lips. He wondered if there were any trout, then decided the creek was too small for anything but guppies...or polywogs. On impulse, he plopped down on a rock, yanked off his shoes and socks, and rolled his jeans up to mid-calf. Stepping gingerly from his rock to another edging the creek, he sat down again and eased his feet into the water. It was cold, but not that bone-chilling cold of a stream fed by snowmelt. Of course, it wasn't like it was a thermal spring, either. Jake and his mom had visited the Hay-Yo-Kay Hot Springs in Truth or Consequences and he remembered this guy telling them that the water was anywhere from 98-108 degrees Fahrenheit. This was nowhere close.

Jake sighed and let the tension drain from his shoulders and the rest of his body. The sun broke through in patches, warming his face, and he lay back on the rock with his feet still dangling in the water.

Drew stood on top of the rock, which wasn't as flat as it appeared from horseback across the meadow. It was actually a little rounded. On the side that was previously blocked from view, he could see that a neat spear of rock had separated from the main body and rested on its side, resembling a slice of bread fallen away from the loaf. Still standing on the larger rock, he stooped down and ran his hand over the surface, noticing that up close it was flecked with black and gold. It felt very warm and he lay down on his stomach, using his crossed arms as a pillow.

It seemed like only moments later that he heard a soft scraping noise. Without lifting his head, he opened his eyes and was confronted by a pair of pink Converse low tops. "What is it with you guys?" Sarah's voice demanded from somewhere above him. "We get to explore this great place and all of you just sack out! Jake's snoozing down by the creek, you're here, and Ron's conked out in the grass.

Drew moved his head a little in the direction Sarah was gesturing. He couldn't see Ron, but he spotted the brim of a John Deere ball cap and a solitary stalk of grass that reached higher than the rest, the other end of which Drew would bet was stuck in Ron's mouth. He squinted up at Sarah with one eye.

"Find anything?" he inquired, slowly pushing himself up to stand beside her.

"I almost caught a little whiptail over by that log," she said, obviously expecting him to be impressed with her find.

Drew looked down at her gravely. "And a whiptail would be...?"

She opened her eyes wide. "A lizard, of course!"

"You like to catch lizards?" he asked doubtfully.

Sarah wrinkled her forehead, saying "Ye-ah", but clearly meaning "Doesn't everyone?". "Don't you like lizards?"

"Yeah, actually, I do. I just don't pay much attention to what the different kinds are called. The one I like is a horny toad."

Her mouth drew down at the corners. "It's a horned toad, not a horny toad!" she corrected sternly.

"Whatever. I used to catch them and stroke their stomachs and they'd go to sleep. I never have seen one do that blood-squirting thing they're supposed to do. Do they really do that?"

Sarah nodded. "Only some species can squirt blood from their eyes. It's a defense mechanism. It must taste really bad, because it makes a predator let go of them...They are really cute!" she added.

Drew gave a short laugh. A cute, blood-squirting lizard.

A few minutes later, a pair of boots thumped down next to them as Ron jumped up on the rock. "Hey, you two. What do you think of this?" He swept an arm around to encompass the meadow, trees, and hills beyond.

They voiced their appreciation, Sarah of the flowers and lizard, Drew of the whole picture the view presented.

Ron sighed a happy sigh. "I love the peace of this place." He reached down and picked up the saddlebags they hadn't seen him drop. "Jake will be here in a minute. He's been snoozing by the creek (only Ron pronounced it "crick") and his toes are pickled."

"I've got a few snacks in here." He pulled a bag of quartered apples, another of thick cheese slices, and some peanut butter crackers from one side, and 4 water bottles from the other.

Jake strode up and stood apart at the base of the rock until entreated by Sarah to join them. His eyes had zeroed in on the food and he realized it had been almost 2 hours since he'd last eaten. He was starved.

It wasn't until he stepped up on the rock that the others noticed he carried something yellow and round beneath his arm. It looked kind of like a giant, greenish-yellow wrinkly grapefruit, about the size of a soccer ball.

"What the heck is that?", Sarah asked, pointing at it as Jake plopped down on the rock and set it down beside him.

Jake glanced down as though he'd forgotten he had it. He picked it up again and held it out for the others to see. "I don't know. It's weird looking, isn't it? I found it down by the creek. There's a bunch of them under the trees near the water."

"Now, that's about the biggest one I've ever seen," Ron commented, reaching out to take it from Jake. He hefted it a couple of times and turned it round and round, then passed it to Drew, who was staring in fascination.

"What is it?" he asked, echoing Sarah.

"It's a horse apple," Ron replied.

Drew shook his head. "If that's a horse apple, I'd like to see the horse that dropped it," he said dryly.

Ron laughed, while the others looked confused. "Not horse manure, no. It's actually fruit from a bois d'arc tree."

"Bow dark?" repeated Jake.

Ron nodded. "Yep. Those trees you saw down by the creek are bois d'arc trees. They have an interesting history around here. I'll tell you about it, but I need fuel first. Let's eat."

Ron grabbed a hunk of cheese, paired it with an apple slice and popped the whole thing in his mouth, washing it down with a gulp of water. He watched Jake fall hungrily upon the pile of peanut butter crackers, and smiled briefly, remembering what it was like to have a 13-year-old boy's stomach. "That creek where Jake was soaking his feet," he began, "is called "No-Name".

"The name is No-Name?" asked Sarah.

"Who's on first?" Ron replied. Drew got the joke and smiled, but not the other two, who must not have been Abbott and Costello fans. "Yes, the name is No-Name. It may have had a Native American name, but the white settlers didn't know it if it did." He paused for another bite of cheese. Swallowing, he continued. "All they knew was that it was an important source of water in these parts. Well, three groups of people wanted to do different things with this water." He leaned back on his hands, staring into the distance.

Drew had watched his grandfather spin yarns in just this way, and he appreciated Ron, the storyteller, as much as he liked Ron, the horseman, and Ron, the burned-marshmallow-eater. He noticed that Ron's Texas accent seemed to have thickened as he began his story.

"Well, these people couldn't be more different from each other, not physically, mind you, but in their approach to life. One group was a ranching family who lived down in the valley, and they owned the bottom half of this stretch. Their name was Win Win. They, this man and two of his sons, wanted the water for their cattle and horses. They pastured their stock up here and needed the creek to flow freely."

"Another family owned the stretch of land higher up the hill, above the Win Wins. These people I'll call the I Got Mines. Now, the I Got Mines were fixin' to divert the creek and create a pond. They did a little farming up on the hill and thought they could use more water for their crops and as a bonus, the pond would be good for raising geese." He paused, running a hand down his chest, currently sporting a picture of Mr. Bubble, and took a slow sip of water.

"You can see what the problem might be here. If the I Got Mines had their way, then...

"Wait, you said there were 3 groups!" Sarah interjected.

"Oh, you're right, there was another group," Ron agreed, as if he'd just remembered. "It was Mr. Win Wins' eldest son, Do Nothing, and a friend of his, Sit On It."

Jake crossed his arms, lip curling contemptuously. "Do Nothing Win Win and Sit On It?"

"Actually, no," Ron replied seriously. Do Nothing wasn't really a Win Win. He came to live with them when he was about 15 years old, after his family died from the fever one winter. There was no one else to care for him, so Mr. Win Win took him in and raised him with his other boys, twins a couple of years younger than Do Nothing." He sat up and fortified himself with another slice of apple.

"You might think Do Nothing would be right grateful to Mr. Win Win, but instead, he hated him and everything Win Win. He didn't like anything Mr. Win Win or his sons did, said, or believed in...No, Do Nothing Happens...did I tell you his last name was Happens?" Sarah shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, Do Nothing was just contrary as could be, as far as the rest of the Win Win family was concerned. They showed him kindness, tried to make him part of the family, but Do Nothing wanted nothing to do with it, if you'll excuse the pun." Drew groaned. Ignoring this, Ron went on.

"He and Sit On It figured there had to be a way to make a pile of money out of that creek, but they didn't quite know how. They didn't like ranching, gettin' up early, taking care of stock, mending fences, and the like, and they surely didn't want to waste time farming or raising critters of any kind. That neither of them owned a drop of that water didn't seem to bother them. Do Nothing thought he was owed a big part of it, seeing as how he had to put up with the Win Wins all those years and after all, he was the eldest. It seemed like the creek was just about his already."

"How could he possibly believe that?" Sarah exclaimed indignantly.

Ron shook his head, compressing his lips. "What some people believe has nothing to do with the way things really are, all logic and proof to the contrary. There are some people you cannot reason with. All you can do is recognize when that's how a person operates, and choose to spend your time with somebody else instead...Unless you like bringing grief on yourself." He shrugged.

"But the Win Wins couldn't avoid this guy and his friend, though, right?" asked Drew. "I mean, they weren't going to just go away...And how did they think they'd make money off it, anyway?"

"You got that right. The way those boys were, they wouldn't have just faded away. No, that would have been convenient, but highly unlike them to be so obliging."

"Anyway," Ron said after a short pause, "they had what they thought was a plan, but they hadn't really thought it through. They figured they'd somehow get rights to the creek and then maybe sell it to a rival rancher, someone with bags of money who wanted more land with water rights. There was such a man and his land did border the Win Win's, but he'd never shown any interest in the land or No Name creek. He had fish to fry on the other side of the valley, where he owned a lake and several mines."

He took another swig of water. "Do Nothing and Sit On It had ambition, but no vision of how they were going to get rights to the creek away from the I Got Mines and the Win Wins, and they hadn't bothered to find out if the rancher who owned the lake was even interested in the creek."

"What was that guy's name, Go Jump In The...?" interrupted Jake sardonically.

Ron appeared to give this some consideration. "Actually," he began...

Drew groaned again in anticipation, but all Ron said was "I don't really remember his name...but I'm sure it must have been something like that."

Jake's eyes went wide with surprise, but he didn't comment further.

"Where was I? Oh, yeah, those two boys didn't know and didn't go to the trouble of finding out that the lake owner couldn't care less about that little creek or the land it ran though."

Ron looked down for a peanut butter cracker and saw only crumbs. He glanced up to see Jake scanning the rock hopefully for any particle of food that may have been missed. Ron reached into the saddlebag for his backup snack, a bag of his favorite Teriyaki Turkey Jerky. Pulling it free, he handed it to Jake. "Share," he admonished.

He was surprised to see an impish grin form on Jake's face. Jake accepted the bag, opened it with a flourish, and magnanimously offered it first to Sarah, then Drew, then Ron, before extracting a very large piece for himself. He then settled down happily like a dog with a piece of rawhide, apparently waiting for Ron to go on with the story.

Biting into his jerky and chewing slowly, Ron continued. "Meanwhile, the I Got Mines proceeded with their plans for a pond. They started digging where the pond would go, building up embankments, and creating a sluiceway, preparing to divert the stream. Now, Mr. Win Win had already traveled up the hill once to talk with Mr. I Got Mine about the problems his plans would cause downstream. Mr. I Got Mine heard him out, but bottom line, he was going to take care of his own. If it hurt Mr. Win Win, well, that's the way the cookie crumbled." He looked up, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. "The I Got Mines had a son, too, and he felt just like his parents. He was called..."

"Wait, don't tell me!" interjected Drew. "His name was Look Out For Number One, right?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

Ron looked surprised, then congratulated Drew. "Hey, that's pretty good. I can see where you might think that, and you were close, but...No, the son was called "What's In It For Me?" he said matter of factly.

Drew hung his head abruptly in defeat and Sarah laughed.

"The I Got Mines were a stubborn lot, and that helped them survive, but they weren't too smart and they kept to themselves. This stopped them from learning what Mr. Win Win discovered from talking to people.

While Mr. Win Win was thinking over his problems with the I Got Mines, he went into town for some supplies. There were some good people in town, like the blacksmith and the mercantile owner, and it always cheered him up to talk with them. This time, when he went to see the shopkeeper, he noticed a pile of fence posts stacked around the side of the building and he asked the price. The shop keeper unexpectedly launched into a story about a kind of tree that grew there abouts. He said the Osage Indians made their bows out of the wood from this tree, which is why French explorers named it bois d'arc, meaning "wood of the bow". The wood had other uses, as well, being particularly hard and resistant to rot, but flexible when it was still green. Wagon builders liked it for making high mileage wheel rims and others used it for fence posts, railroad ties, mine timbers, and more."

"What does this have to do with horse apples?" Jake interrupted impatiently.

"I'm getting to that. The shopkeeper also told him about a man named Captain Boggess. Supposedly, this Captain Boggess was attacked by Indians somewhere between Red River station and Saint Jo, and he hid behind the door of a cabin. The door stopped bullets that were meant for him, and he survived...The door was made of bois d'arc wood.

Mr. Win Win found the information very interesting, but wasn't sure if it would do him any good. He asked more questions of the shopkeeper, and found out that bois d'arc trees liked to grow along creeks. He learned what the trees and their fruit looked like, and thought about the trees growing along his own creek. He'd seen the big horse apples before, but didn't think much of them. They weren't fit for humans to eat, although cows would eat the fruit and sometimes the leaves of the tree. Squirrels and such liked the seeds inside, but that didn't do Mr. Win Win any good. But maybe there was a use for them after all.

Mr. Win Win kept digging for information and the shopkeeper told him that people up north were buying bois d'arc seeds to grow wood for fencing. There was no such thing as barbed wire at the time, and boards were expensive. The bois d'arc grew fast and could actually be woven to make a fence even chickens couldn't get through.

Mr. Win Win left town and rode slowly toward home, thinking all the while about bois d'arc trees and their strange fruit. He was slumped in the saddle staring absently between his horse's ears, when he suddenly sat bolt upright. Wheeling his horse around, he headed back to town at a trot. He needed to send off a couple of telegrams."

No one interrupted, and Ron continued. "A week or two later, Mr. Win Win rode back up the hill to talk to Mr. I Got Mine. In his saddlebags, he carried a small horse apple and in his shirt pocket, a telegram. He found What's In It For Me and his father digging the sluiceway deeper, the water not yet diverted. They glanced up as Mr. Win Win came into view and did not look the least bit friendly, although they didn't go so far as to reach for their guns. They were silent as Mr. Win Win rode up to them.

He dismounted, greeting them by saying "I have something I think will interest you." He pulled the bois d'arc seed pod out of his saddlebag and held it up for them to see.

"I'm supposed to be interested in a dang horse apple, Win Win? Mr. I Got Mine sneered. I got enough of my own just down the creek a ways. You pull some gold out of that bag and then you'll get my attention."

Undeterred, Mr. Win Win said "You're right, it's a horse apple. Have you ever seen what's inside?" He glanced around, then hefted a pick axe that was resting in the ditch. He sliced the pod in two and showed it to the others. "These are bois d'arc seeds. Take a look at this."

He handed the telegram to Mr. I Got Mine, who passed it to his son. What's In It For Me started reading it, finally saying "Pa, it's from some gent in Kansas offering to buy up as many of them seeds as people will sell. He says he'll pay...I don't believe it!" he exclaimed. "Why would anyone in their right mind pay that amount of money for horse apple seeds?" He thrust the paper back at Mr. Win Win, who took it, carefully folding it and putting it back in his shirt pocket.

"Believe it. People need fences and they need them fast. These seeds will do it for them." He paused. "The trees grow on my place, too. I intend to harvest the seeds and sell them to this fella," he tapped his pocket, "and make more money than I'd get in 5 years running cattle." He looked down at the sluiceway, then back up at the I Got Mines. "If you go ahead with your plans to divert the creek, you'll take the water away from the trees, yours and mine both." He let that sink in. "And then nobody wins."

Ron stopped talking and looked over at Jake. "What do you think happened?" he asked.

Jake grimaced. "Obviously, I Got Mine was smart enough to realize he'd get more from the seeds than raising geese or whatever. What I'm wondering about is where the other son and his friend come in, the troublemaker guys."

"Uh huh," Ron said. "You're right, the I Got Mines got wise and didn't divert the creek. While all this was going on, Do Nothing and Sit On It were busy doing nothing, but thinking about how Mr. Win Win hadn't treated them right, hadn't offered to give Do Nothing even a share of the creek rights, and how the world in general owed them. Before they got into too much mischief, Mr. Win Win approached them and did something they least expected. He offered them a job collecting horse apples. Do Nothing was sitting on a bale of straw at the time, and he almost fell off, he laughed so hard. "Collect horse apples?" he echoed in disbelief. "You been touched by the sun, old man?"

Mr. Win Win then gave the two of them a choice: do the work or don't bother coming around again." Ron shook his head. "Not surprisingly, they chose to leave, after a lot of grumbling, threats, and other unpleasantness. Mr. Win Win thought he got off easy; he'd figured they'd try to take revenge on him somehow. Then he learned that the day after they left, there'd been a fella in town talking about a new gold strike in California. He said he heard tell that gold was just lying on the ground, waiting to be picked up, and people were getting rich overnight. Mr. Win Win heard that Do Nothing and Sit On It left town shortly after that, headed west."

Ron took off his ball cap, ran a hand through his hair, and pulled it back on again.

"That's it?" questioned Sarah. "That's the end of the story?"

"Well, that's how Mr. Win Win won, as far as the creek goes. There are a lot more stories about things that happened around here, but I figure it's time to head back. The horses need water and you all may want to take a swim or something to cool down."

Drew thought swimming was a fine idea, hoping Dara would be in the pool. He got up and reached a hand down to pull Sarah up. She took it with a word of thanks, and they headed for the horses. Jake got up and followed, not smiling, but not scowling, either.

Chapter 13

What do you want?

Toby and Dara lay side by side on the warm cement by the pool's edge. Toby's slight body was drinking in the warmth and had almost stopped shivering. He raised his head and looked over at Dara, one eye squinted against the bright sun. "Dragons or unicorns?" he demanded.

An unlikely pair, they had been drawn together by a chance comment over breakfast. Dara had been spreading the very thinnest layer of butter across her pancake, when she heard the boy next to her state emphatically, "Gandalf and Dumbledore could be the same person! Look at them! Both ancient wizards, the most powerful or nearly the most powerful of their time, both..."

"Look, kid," a bored voice announced on the other side of the boy, "what they have in common is that they're both fictional characters. Get a life." The second voice belonged to a boy who was all of about 15, Dara noted, not liking his rudeness one bit.

"Actually, he has a point," she chimed in. She smiled at the small, dark haired boy seated beside her. "I'm sure he knows the characters aren't real, but that doesn't make what he said any less true."

Toby gaped at her for a moment, then nodded his head vigorously. The older boy gave a snort of disgust and rose from the table. "Yeah, well, I'd rather talk about stuff that's real and that matters, like cars and...and...football."

Dara and Toby looked at each other, each raising a skeptical eyebrow, and then both turned toward the other boy. He merely shook his head and ambled off to the kitchen.

"To each his own," muttered Toby. He glanced shyly up at Dara. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"Well, you were right. There are some similarities between the two, and I never even thought of it before," responded Dara.

"You like science fiction? Fantasy?" exclaimed Toby, thinking this was too good to be true.

She smiled dazzlingly at him, causing the breath to hitch in the back of his throat "I've got _Brisingr_ back at my cabin. I've been saving it for a long time. Have you read it yet?" she asked.

"Twice," Toby grinned.

There ensued a very involved, convoluted, and passionate debate about various fantasy books and movies, after which two things were apparent. While Dara was three years older than Toby, she did not look upon him as the annoying little brother-type about which her friends complained; instead, she was happy to have found a kindred spirit. Secondly, it was agreed that while _Lord of the Rings_ was weightier, the Harry Potter books had just the right combination of magic, wonder, humor, and good vs. evil.

Dara and Toby had intended to go to the class called Real World Magic, but they found out it wasn't being held until the next day. They planned to attend Dream Working instead, but Dara couldn't go until the afternoon session. She had to swim. Toby decided to keep her company, and while she swam laps, he spent most of the time tossing a small Spiderman figure into the deep end and then diving down to get it.

She hadn't answered and he repeated his question, "Dragons or unicorns?"

Dara sighed heavily. "That's a hard one. I mean, unicorns are sooo beautiful, but dragons are, too, in a different way. Well, of course they're different, but dragons are beautiful in a dangerous way and unicorns are...just beautiful." She sighed again. "I'm not making any sense. I guess my answer is that I like them both, for different reasons. I don't really have a favorite, but I..." She trailed off and her cheeks suddenly flushed a pale red. Toby turned his head to see what had caught her attention and saw Drew entering through the gate, a towel tossed over his shoulder.

Dara put her head down quickly on her crossed arms. She heard footsteps drawing nearer.

"Hey, you guys. How's the water?" Drew asked.

"Fine," Toby said curtly, a small frown wrinkling his brow, one of the few places on his body that wasn't already pruned from the water. He figured Dara would ignore him now that Drew was around. He kind of understood, but not really.

Cautiously lifting her head, Dara glanced up at Drew to see him smiling down at her in a way that brought the color to her cheeks again. She swallowed before managing to say, "It's good. Great, actually. Just the right temperature..." Oh, great, she thought, just keep babbling, I'm sure he'll be impressed. Dara's Rules: Think before you talk. She gestured to Toby. "Do you know Toby?" she asked, smiling slightly at the younger boy as she spoke.

Toby look surprised. "Sure," Drew said. "We met at the fire last night. I saw you try to teach Corinne how not to burn a marshmallow. I gave it a shot, too, but I think it's hopeless."

"Did you see how many of her burned ones Ron ate?" Toby responded. "I would have spewed, for sure!"

Drew laughed. "I know. I would have been sick eating half that many. Well, I'm going to cool off." He threw his towel down and dove into the water without another word.

When he surfaced, Dara had thought of something to say to him that she felt didn't sound too stupid. "Did you go to that Get Real thing this morning?" she ventured tentatively. Dara felt she needed practice talking to guys her own age, and since it seemed so hard for her (especially with cute ones!), she was determined to start practicing now.

Unfortunately, Drew had gone back under again. She sighed heavily. Now she'd have to try again. Maybe it would be better to wait until he got out of the pool, she thought. No, no sense putting it off. Dara looked over and noticed he had come up again and was halfway down the pool doing a really quite impressive fly. She forgot her planned question and blurted out "I didn't know you could swim like that!"

Drew had turned and pushed off on his back, coasting up the pool. He still hadn't heard her, but he heard something. He flipped over and swam to her side. "Did you say something to me?" he asked, hooking an arm over the edge of the pool.

"Yeah, that was a good fly you were doing! Do you compete?" she asked, forgetting her shyness.

"No, but I used to, when I was little, like 10 or so." He glanced at Toby. "Oh, sorry, Toby. I didn't mean it that way."

"That's OK," Toby grinned. "It's hard to imagine you were ever little," he replied.

Drew laughed and so did Dara. "Well, when I was little-er, then. Actually, I don't really like competing in sports. I'd rather draw or paint, or take a hike somewhere."

"You can draw?" Dara commented wistfully. "That is such a cool talent to have."

"I love it," he confirmed, looking inward for a moment. "What do you two like to do?" he asked. "I mean, besides swim, Dara."

Dara looked at Toby first. Toby thought about it and then said "I really like science fiction and magic and stuff...but that's not really doing anything. I don't know." He glanced back at Dara, and shrugged.

"Well, what are you good at?" she asked.

Toby was looking down, working Spiderman's wrist joint back and forth, although no web was forthcoming. He looked up again after a moment. "I'm good in school...and I'm good at figuring out how things work, but I don't have a talent, not like drawing or swimming fast." He shrugged again.

"Maybe you just haven't found it yet," Drew suggested.

Dara nodded. When no one said anything more, she offered, "I do like to swim, of course...and my parents really like watching me compete." She reached over and gently removed Spiderman from Toby's hand. Lifting his arms up over his head, she pretended he was flying like Superman. "I like fantasy, too. In fact, I..." Horrified, she realized she had almost told them about her stories. No one knew about them. "But that's not doing anything, either," she finished.

"Yeah, just swimming in the Olympics. What a slacker!" Drew teased.

That got a crooked smile from Dara and a laugh from Toby.

"I'm going to swim some more before lunch. You two coming in?" Drew invited.

Toby and Dara both shook their heads, having just warmed up after a long stretch in the water. Drew kicked off and executed a fast and truly beautiful crawl back up the pool, knowing he was showing off and unable to stop himself. He shook his head mentally at himself and then just enjoyed the rhythm of his stroke and the feel of gliding through the water. I do love swimming, he thought, just not competing. Unless it's an art competition. Then I'll work my butt off coming up with something really good. He smiled as he swam, which interfered with his breaths, but he didn't care.

After lunch, Dara met Toby outside the covered patio on the south side of the building. There were 4 tables set up under the shelter, with supplies grouped in the middle of each table. There was sculpting clay, paper, rectangles of cardboard, magazines, paints and brushes, glasses of water, scissors, glue sticks, crayons, and more. Dara spotted Drew already seated at the second table; she was going to head for the first table when he lifted his head, grinned, and motioned her over. She and Toby headed his way and sat down on the bench to his right. Both peered over at the paper he'd been working on with a blue crayon. Toby smiled with delight as he recognized he and Dara lying beside the pool. Even in crayon, Drew had captured the lines of Toby's skinny frame, hunched to get some warmth back into his body, while Dara looked relaxed and graceful, her head resting on her arm, one cerulean blue eye showing partially through sunglow hair.

"Oh, you're so good at that!" she breathed.

"Thank you," Drew said simply, tucking the blue crayon back in the box. Toby didn't take his eyes off the picture, Drew noticed. "Would you like to keep this?" he asked Toby, who raised glowing eyes to his face.

"Absolutely," he nodded enthusiastically, reaching for the paper.

Drew handed it over as Shelley walked in from the other side of the patio. There were a dozen kids scattered around the tables, and just before Shelley spoke, another boy joined the table with Drew, Dara, and Toby. He dipped his head at them all and turned to listen to Shelley. Dara just had time to take in his sun bleached hair and lean frame before Shelley began.

"Welcome to Dream Working. This is the class I told you about that requires a little bit of artwork. You'll notice I didn't say skill, because I'm able to do it and I have none...skill at art, that is. The purpose of this class is to give you a chance to take a look at what you like to do, what you'd like to see happen, what you want in life. If that sounds like a lot to think about at your age, know that it can be something as simple as a thing you've always wanted, like an IPod or a new skateboard. It might be a place you want to visit, such as Australia or Alaska. Or you might think of something you've always dreamed of doing, like competing in the Olympics..." She smiled briefly at Dara. "climbing Kilimanjaro or shooting the rapids down the Grand Canyon. Some of you might choose to envision what you want to be when you are adults...a surgeon? A wildlife photographer?" She gazed around the tables at them. "Think about what makes you happy, or what you want. Anything you choose."

Shelley glanced at the new boy seated across from Drew, Dara, and Toby. "Before we get started, we've had someone new join us. He'll be bunking with Drew and Michael. Everyone, this is Jim, and he's come all the way from Australia." She smiled and motioned for him to stand.

Jim stood up slowly, raised a hand in greeting as he glanced around the tables, then sat back down. Dara looked at him with interest. Drew and Toby frowned.

Before Shelley could continue, a very tall man approached her, followed by a very short dog. The man wore board shorts with brilliantly colored toucans printed all over them, and a t-shirt picturing a surfer wearing equally loud board shorts, sitting under a palm tree with waves in the background. The dog went directly to Shelley and was busily sniffing her sandals. Drew, Toby, Dara, and Jim all stared at the dog. It had a muscular little body, thick, stubby legs, and ears a jackalope would envy. Little tufts of hair served as eyebrows, a trim beard framed his nose, and what looked something like a lion's mane of coarse brown, black, russet, and white fur ringed his thick neck.

"Wow," someone said. "What IS that?"

"Do you think it's some kind of terrier?" Dara whispered. "Or maybe a...well, I don't know," she trailed off, cocking her head at the dog.

"He's built like a tuna," Drew commented. "All muscle...with a beard...and eyeliner," he finished, noting the thin, dark rings rimming the dog's soft brown eyes.

"I think he's a bitzer," Jim spoke for the first time. All three of the others raised their brows at him in question. "A...a mongrel dog...mixed breed," he explained.

"Yeah, but of what?" Toby asked, continuing to stare at the dog.

Shelley broke off her low voiced conversation with the man. "We have a new member of the team here at Camp Life, not new to us, but coming back to us after a surfing trip to Costa Rica...and still dressed for it," she said, motioning at the toucans. "This is Cal and this," she said affectionately, gesturing toward the dog, "is his friend, loyal companion, and unofficial camp mascot, Rocket J. Squirrel, better known as "Rocky"."

"Hi, good to see all of you," Cal said, his gaze including everyone at the tables. "Rock, say hello."

The dog gave a soft woof, then grinned with open jaws, tongue lolling, large white teeth glistening. Everyone laughed.

"If you're wondering what kind of dog he is, like most people do, I'll give you a hint. He is part mini schnauzer. The first person who correctly guesses the rest will receive a reward. "What should it be, Shelley?" he asked, turning his head toward her.

"Not having to listen to your jokes," she responded without hesitation. "This is a warning to you all: this man tells the worst groaners you've ever heard."

"That's harsh," he said, folding his lips and shaking his head. "It just takes a finely tuned sense of humor to appreciate my jokes. Let's let them be the judge."

Shelley groaned before he could say the first word. Cal looked at her patiently until she held up a hand in defeat.

"OK," began Cal, a happy smile lightening his rather stern-looking features. "I got this one off the internet, so I don't know who thought it up. He cleared his throat portentously. "Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar. One says, "I've lost my electron." The other says, "Are you sure?" The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive..."

Toby laughed, someone else groaned, and most of the others continued to stare blankly at Cal.

"Ba dump bump...maybe you guys need time to warm up. I haven't given up, though." Shelley groaned yet again. "You'll get more chances to laugh because Rocky and I will be around throughout your stay here." Cal waved a hand in farewell and walked away toward the volleyball court. Rocky did a 180 and trotted after him, impossibly large ears flicking back and forth like a horse shooing away flies.

Shelley was unsuccessful at suppressing a grin as she watched the pair head down the hill. Turning back to the tables, she clapped her hands together once. "Alright, time to get started. Here's what I'd like you to do. Think about something that you'd really like to see happen in your life. As I said before, it can be something you'd like to have, something you've dreamed about doing your whole life, or something you believe is impossible to achieve, but you still want it....Think about it, talk about it with each other, help each other come up with an idea of what is wanted. Go ahead and do that, and when you're ready, when you have whatever it is clearly in your mind, you can start creating your treasure map." She held up a piece of blank paper. "This is a tool...or this," she added, holding a bar of sculpting clay in her other hand, "or that," she pointed toward the paints. "Take your idea, look at it from every angle you can think of. Decide whether you'd like to draw or cut out pictures and words from magazines or shape it in clay or all of the above. Everything you can think of that is connected to this thing that you want, put them into your artwork, into your treasure map."

"To give you a better idea of what I'm talking about, I'll show you a treasure map I did for myself last year." She picked up a shoebox from the table behind her and held it out to show everyone. There was no lid and one of the long sides had been cut away, so it looked like a mini-diorama. Toby glimpsed a couple of crude clay figures, Playdoh of different colors rolled into tiny balls and spindles spilling out of a miniature basket, and some unidentifiable shapes that reminded him of something he made in first grade. He looked up uncertainly at Shelley, who smiled her understanding.

"I know, my artistic talent hasn't progressed since grade school," she commented. Everyone nearest her, those who had the best view of her work, smirked. "Since you probably haven't a clue what this represents, I'll explain." She paused and glanced down at herself. "I made this treasure map about 6 months ago. This figure here.." she pointed to the larger of the two shapes that looked sort of human, "this is me at the time I created the map".

"Oh, now I see your curly hair!" one of the girls exclaimed, then was immediately embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." she blurted.

Shelley laughed. "It's OK. You didn't hurt my feelings. That stuff sticking out around the head is supposed to be my hair. I realize it looks more like the fuzz inside of an artichoke, but I know what it really is, and that's all that counts." She patted her curls ostentatiously and batted her eyes. This time, everyone laughed.

"Anyway, that's me, how I was. This other one, this skinnier figure with the artichoke hair, that's me as I wanted to be." She looked around the tables, making eye contact with everyone. "I have a squatty body. No matter what I do, I will not look like Cameron Diaz. But what I realized back then, back when I started this, was that I could have a healthier body, I could be the best squatty body I could be...It wasn't about losing weight, although that was certainly part of the goal. It was more about changing what I did, my behavior, to support my body in health. I essentially wanted to become more "me", not "me" covered up with extra layers and focused on things like my next plate of fettuccine alfredo instead of the things in life that were truly meaningful to me."

She frowned in thought. "I'd been on diet after diet in the past, sometimes losing a few pounds, sometimes not, but always gaining the weight back, often more than I lost in the first place. I didn't ever want to diet again. So I imagined what it would look like if I were the weight that is best for me, with a healthy, strong body. I thought of all the details I could, what I would look and feel like, what I would be eating, what I'd be doing, everything." Shelley held up the diorama. "And this is what I saw, what I envisioned."

"You see, I always knew what needs to be done to lose weight. It's a very simple formula - burn more calories than you take in. You don't need any magic pills or fat-busting machines, just eat right and move more. Easy, right?" She shook her head. "No, it isn't. And I wasn't interested in just losing weight. I wanted to be healthy, to live healthfully. So I thought about what life would be like if I was already there, if I'd already reached my goal." Shelley lifted up the little basket of Playdoh thingies. "This, believe it or not, is a basket of fruits and vegetables. Not the proverbial boring carrot and celery sticks, but all kinds of things I like, kiwis, oranges, red peppers, zucchini, broccoli, yes, broccoli! I started making these little shapes for the foods and found that I loved the colors. I looked at what I had been eating and noticed that it was mostly brown food, or shades from white to brown. I was eating like I lived in Pleasantville, if you've seen that movie, with all the color leached out. Cheeseburgers, fries, pasta with cream sauce, grilled cheese sandwiches, baked potatoes with sour cream, doughnuts, bagels with cream cheese, biscuits and gravy...with an occasional kiwi or orange thrown in. On top of that, I didn't move much. I not only didn't exercise, I didn't play softball or ride a bike or take a walk. It didn't even occur to me. I just sat and watched a movie or read a book in my spare time.

The kids watched her soberly. "Keep doing that for 20 years or so and you'll probably look like I looked and feel like I felt. So I added color to my treasure map, color for the things I wanted to eat. I put in activities I thought I'd enjoy. I used to jump rope competitively and hadn't touched a rope in years. This little green and white snaky shape is actually a speed jump rope. I also love being in water, grew up with a swimming hole practically in my backyard, but I'd never used the pool here, only the hot tub, and I stopped doing even that when I got so big." She pointed at a rectangle of blue with a purple blob in the middle. "This is the pool, with me in it. And these over here are handweights, and a fitness ball over by the mirror. There's more, but I think you've got the picture."

Shelley drew herself up. "I kept looking at my treasure map, adding stuff when I thought of it, and pretty soon, things started happening that took me in the right direction. Color crept into my diet. How'd those peas get there? I wondered." She laughed. "Ron came up to me one day and asked if I wanted to meet him at the pool before breakfast for a morning swim. My first thought was "Are you nuts? Swim when I could be sitting with my feet up, having a cup of coffee, and reading a good book? I opened my mouth to say thanks, but no thanks, and what came out was "OK". Her disbelieving expression caused the kids to snicker.

"I know, I didn't get it, either. Well, I went to the pool the next day, because I promised I would, and then for some reason, we kept doing it and it became a new routine. To my very great surprise, I found I liked getting in an early swim. Then one day, I was digging around inside the barn and found an old tack box, but instead of tack, it had a deflated basketball, a Frisbee, and of all things, a speed cable jump rope. It was like finding a nugget of gold in my Cheerios!

Her happy smile turned rueful. "The first time I tried to jump, I lasted about 20 seconds. When I was competing, I could jump about 200 times in a minute." Shelley shook her head. "It was pathetic. REALLY discouraging. But I picked up the rope again the next day and I jumped for a minute. I did that several times a day. I kept increasing the amount of time I jumped and gradually, my speed increased, too."

"Can you really jump 200 times in just a minute?" Toby asked.

"Not anymore. I think I'm doing about 120 now, which is 110 more than when I started...and my legs don't feel like jelly when I'm done! Anyway, a lot has happened since I first made my treasure map, and it just keeps happening. Somehow, opportunities keep presenting themselves to me to get healthier and have fun at the same time. Some things I planned, like actively paying attention to what kinds of foods I was eating and how much and when...other things, like Ron inviting me to swim, those types of things just starting coming my way. I am so happy with the way my body is now, with how I feel...See what you can come up with for yourselves, what would be important to you. I'll walk around the tables while you're working on it. If any questions come up, just ask." She gestured at the art supplies and strolled over to one of the tables to talk to a girl who had raised her hand.

Drew looked across the table at Jim, then stuck out his hand. "Hi, Jim. I'm Drew. This is Dara and Toby" he nodded at the others.

"Drew. Dara. Toby," Jim repeated. "Good to meet you," he said softly, his Australian accent distinct.

Dara and Toby murmured greetings, then Toby blurted "Have you been to the Australia Zoo, Steve Irwin's zoo? I've always wanted to go there. I've been to the San Diego Zoo and a few others, but I'd really like to see Steve Irwin's zoo," he said in a rush, looking hopefully at Jim.

Jim smiled at him, brown eyes warm and friendly. "Yeah, I've been a number of times. It's a great place." His smile faded. "Even though Steve isn't there anymore, they've done a fantastic job with the exhibits and shows and the like." He glanced down at the table, then back up, his face brightening. "That's what I'll do my treasure map on today. Not the zoo, but working with animals, sea life in particular. I want a job that takes me out on the ocean. What about you three?" he asked, head cocked to one side in question, a fringe of streaky brown-blonde hair falling over one brow.

No one said anything for a moment. "Dara's going to be in the Olympics," Toby offered. Jim looked impressed. Drew looked at Dara, noticing that while she smiled, it was a tight smile, not the one he'd witnessed when she was having fun, like at the campfire or in the car with his sister. "Is that what you want your treasure map to be about, Dara? The Olympics?"

She started to say "Of course", but nothing came out. Her eyes dropped down, searching for something to say. All she could think of was writing stories, but she didn't want to tell them that. She never told anyone about that.

"You don't have to say," Jim interjected quickly, noticing her hesitation. "I've done these before, actually. My mum showed me how." He paused. "She told me I need to be honest and fearless when I do a treasure map, because it's not about what you think you can get or what you should do, it's about what you want, whether or not you think you can get it." He wrinkled his nose. "I know that sounds like a load of ...," he caught himself and continued "...confusing, but it's really true."

Drew laughed shortly. "I don't think it sounds like a load of confusing," he joked, glancing at Jim with a smile. "I think it makes sense." He turned towards Dara. "I know you want to go to the Olympics. But I'll bet there's a lot of other things you'd like, too."

Dara looked up and nodded slowly. "OK," she finally said, the faint worry lines still evident between her brows. Drew continued to look at her for a few moments, then turned to Toby.

"How about you?"

"Well," he said, drawing the word out, "what I'd REALLY like to be is Harry Potter, although I know I'm an incredible geek for saying it," he added sheepishly.

"Are you joking?" Jim asked incredulously. "We'd ALL like to be Harry Potter!"

"Or Hermione!" Dara chimed in.

Toby grinned. "Since there can't be two Harry Potters, what I'd like is...I know!" he exclaimed. "We, my family that is, always take really fun vacations. This year we're going to Mexico and I'll get to swim with dolphins!" Jim made an envious sound. "Last year we went to San Diego and saw the zoo and Sea World and a bunch of other stuff. But my dad's already said he's starting a new project next year and we'll have to take a vacation closer to home." He sighed. "But I want to see Australia Zoo. I don't want to wait, I want to see it now. Well, next year, anyway." Toby slapped the table in front of him. "So that's it, my map will be about going to Australia Zoo."

"Way to go, Tobe!" Drew laughed. As his laughter faded, he gave a short sigh. "I'm not sure what I want my treasure map to be about. I have to think about this some more."

Shelley strolled up to their table, rested a hand lightly on Jim's shoulder and asked them all how it was coming along. Drew and Dara both shrugged, and Jim and Toby briefly explained their ideas. "Good!" she said. "How about you two?" Drew and Dara looked at each other and when no one spoke, looked back at Shelley.

She laughed. "I take it you're having a hard time coming up with something?"

Drew nodded emphatically and Dara gave her head a small shake. Shelley tipped her head curiously, holding eye contact with Dara. "Does that mean you have an idea or ..." she let the question trail off.

Dara swallowed. After a pause, she inhaled deeply and said hesitantly, "I do have an idea. But it's...it's something I haven't told anyone else about." She looked gravely at Shelley. "I'm not sure I want to tell anybody."

Shelley nodded. "What would happen if you _didn't_ make a treasure map about this thing? How do you think you'd feel?"

Dara's jaw hardened. "I wouldn't like it. I mean, I don't want to give this...this thing up. But I'm afraid to...I'm afraid of what people would say if..." She heaved a sigh. "See, I can't even talk about it!" she finished.

She thought Shelley would try to get her to say what it was or at least talk her into agreeing to do a map about it. Instead, Shelley asked, "What are you going to do about it?"

Jim, Drew, and Toby had been listening with much interest. At this point, Jim kicked Toby sharply under the table, pointedly drawing some construction paper toward himself. Picking up a pair of scissors, he frowned with great concentration at the royal blue sheet in front of him, then began cutting out a shape.

Toby stared at him, hurt and puzzled, then as light dawned, sat up straight and grabbed a magazine and some scissors himself. Within moments, he had found an ad for lotion that the makers implied would make alligator skin soft. Fortunately for Toby, the alligator pictured was just what he needed. He lifted the scissors to the page, while Drew stared from him to Jim. Jim glanced up briefly, slid his eyes to Dara, then back to Drew with the unmistakable message to get busy and leave her be.

Drew blinked in acknowledgment and selected some colored pencils from a cup on the table. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he felt better just holding the pencil in his hand.

Dara was brought up short. "What am I going to do about it?" she repeated to herself. She thought about what Jim had said, about what she really wanted. She looked up at Shelley again and surprised herself by saying "I'm going to make a treasure map about it."

"OK," Shelley said neutrally. "Let me know if you need any help." With a brief smile of encouragement, she moved a few steps over to Drew, who was staring fixedly at the clean white paper before him. Dara continued to watch Shelley for a few seconds, then slowly selected some paper for herself.

Drew's hand gripped the pencil tightly, but was resting still upon the paper. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Shelley's. "What if...what if I want something for someone else? I know this sounds dorky, but I'm so lucky. The thing I love to do the most is art and I get to do it a lot. I have a great family, awesome friends..." he left the sentence unfinished, looking a little embarrassed.

"Yes, lucky," Shelley smiled. "But what you may want for someone else, they might not want for themselves. Or not want it enough, or they might be unwilling to do what it takes to get it. It's really up to them...Is there nothing you dream of doing or being? A place you'd like to see? Something you like to learn to do or to have?" she prompted.

His fingers fidgeted with the pencil, then made a few firm strokes on the paper. Staring at the cobalt lines, he tilted his head as if listening, then began to draw in earnest. He seemed to have forgotten Shelley's presence. She watched him curiously and then moved away to another table.

Toby thought he'd have trouble not peeking at whatever Dara was doing, but he found himself caught up in his own project. Against a background of bright yellow paper, he had pasted the alligator and other pictures and words from the magazine. A shampoo ad had yielded the word "eucalyptus", and he found "down" near a picture of a comforter, and "under" he cut away from "underwear". He drew a big "Z" with a purple Sharpie, followed by two "o"s he'd cut out. He wanted Drew to help him draw the outline of Australia, but was too shy to ask. He had a stroke of luck when he found a Qantas ad, complete with a picture of the continent, a plane, and a koala. Toby separated the pictures and pasted them where he wanted.

Jim had glued half of the blue sheet onto a green background. He fashioned a couple of dolphins from gray pipe cleaners, and found a photo of a man scuba diving. The ship he drew was crude, but recognizable as a ship. He picked up the magazine Toby had discarded and flipped through it looking for his own treasures.

Gluing strips of different colored construction paper onto the edges of a piece of cardboard, Dara had made a sort of shallow tray. She pulled off a hunk of purple from a stick of sculpting clay, and rolled it into a long neck and body. Laying a narrow strip of blue clay along the spine, she used finger and thumb to pluck up small triangles to form dorsal scales. She continued, rolling four balls of yellow into front and back legs, with a little black for claws. A head with great eyes and flaring nostrils appeared, and two long spikes at the tip of the tail. Dara stared at her creation and found herself smiling with satisfaction. She placed the dragon carefully on the tray and picked up a black pen.

Drew worked fast, sketching in outlines and shapes with the blue pencil, then smudging the lines a bit with his thumb, softening the edges. He frowned at what he'd drawn, then looked up beyond the tent. He rose suddenly from the bench and walked to a large pine. Stooped over, Drew looked closely at the ground as he shuffled slowly forward. Every once in a while he bent closer, picking up objects, then either discarding them or tucking them into his pocket. Returning to his seat, he emptied his pocket, making a small pile to the side of his drawing. He grabbed the glue and laid several thin beads perpendicular to the largest figure on his paper, a flat disc of various shades of blue and green. Drew pressed a twig carefully onto each line of glue. Applying more glue, he made branches from smaller twigs and placed tiny fans of pine needles along the branches. A cluster of rough-edged rocks soon rimmed the blue disc, and suddenly it wasn't a disc anymore, but a mountain lake.

Engrossed in their work, everyone labored silently for quite some time. Eventually, heads popped up and eyes strayed to neighbors' projects. There was some shuffling of feet and low murmuring. Dara sat back with a sigh and noticed that Toby was holding his paper before him, grinning widely. He looked up just then, met Dara's eyes, and his grin got even bigger. Dara realized she wore a matching grin, and felt somehow lighter than she could remember in a very long time. Toby proudly held up his map.

"It's just perfect, Toby," she said. He'd even found a picture of Steve Irwin with his daughter, which was sweet and sad all at once.

Toby nodded, not saying a word. Then he noticed Dara's map. It was on the table in front of her, a multicolored tray of sorts, filled with interesting objects. Toby came around the table for a closer look and Dara didn't object. She even turned it a bit so he could see it better.

He didn't say anything at first, just stared. Finally, he spared a quick glance for Dara and then directed his gaze at her project again. "The dragon is beautiful!" he breathed. "And look at this little guy...he's an elf, right?"

Dara nodded slowly, keeping her attention on her treasure map. "A dragon, an elf, and...Oh, you found a picture of Gandalf! Where was that?" he asked her.

"That gamer's catalog - it had a _Lord of the Rings_ game," she answered.

He saw words across the top of the page and scattered all around, some in colored pencil, some made up of letters cut out of magazine pages. The biggest word was "AUTHOR", but there was also "fantasy", "kids", "stories", "fun", and a few others.

"You want to write stories? Fantasy stories, like _Eragon_?" he asked uncertainly.

Dara shook her head. "No, I...I already write stories. I want to keep writing them and I'd like...I'd like for other people to read them....and hopefully like them, too."

"Well, I'd read them!" Toby stated emphatically.

"You really want to read my stories? I...no one's ever read them except me. I mean, I wrote them, of course, but then I go back and read them later. It would be...nice...to see what someone else thinks of them," she said with a soft smile.

"All right if I take a look, then?" Jim asked from across the table.

Dara hesitated. Gathering courage, she spun her map around so Jim could see it right side up. He looked it over solemnly then suddenly smiled. "Good on you!" he exclaimed.

Dara smiled back and asked to see his map. She loved the dolphins, and they were comparing bad clay sculptures (except for the dragon, which they agreed was perfect), when they noticed that Drew had finally stopped working.

Drew sat back, unconsciously tapping his right ring finger next to the top of his paper. After a moment, he reached out and grabbed a brown pencil, giving a couple of lines a bit darker shading. He sat back again and after staring at his work for another few seconds, nodded once, and looked up to find 3 pairs of eyes upon him. "What?" he questioned, looking from one to another.

"We want to see!" Dara uttered impatiently, almost rolling her eyes.

"Oh," was all Drew said before turning his paper around so that all three of them could look at it.

They gazed down in silence at the serene mountain scene. He had created a lake of deep greenish-blue, streaks of sunlight sparkling on the surface, held close between a ledge of stones and a line of tall pines. Some of the stones were real and some were drawn, as were the trees. A small cabin hugged the side of a gentle slope, edged by more pines and scattered clumps of brush on one side, and a clear stream on the other. The detail was amazing, as was the way he had incorporated real objects into his drawings.

"It's beautiful!" Dara said, awed. "Did you make this up or is this a real place?"

Jim and Toby both complimented Drew, impressed with his ability and with the scene itself.

Drew thanked them all. "It's real," he responded with a wistful look. "We...my family spent a few weeks there once and I've wanted to go back ever since. Well, I don't just want to go back, I want to own it so I can go whenever I want for as long as I want!" He folded his arms. "I figure it'll take me years, I need to save a bunch of money, but...that place is like...it's the most peaceful place I've ever been to." His voice became stronger, more excited. "There's a rocky trail above that hill you see, and you follow it up over this ridge. It leads to another lake, a smaller one, with the most perfect flat rock for sitting. The water is probably about 14 feet deep, but you can see right down to the bottom. There are more trails all around there, and deer, bear, eagles, hawks...I even saw a mink one time." Drew looked up, lifting his chin. "So, it's not a big deal like going to the Olympics or being a brain surgeon or something. But it's what I want."

"Having a place like that," Jim commented "I'd say that's a very big deal."

Drew nodded. He looked closely at first Jim's and then Toby's project, and had good things to say about both of them. He moved on to Dara's, coming around behind her and bending close to the table. He didn't say anything for so long that Dara plucked at her paper, wanting to snatch it away. Finally, Drew turned his head, catching Dara's gaze, hazel eyes intent on blue.

"You did this?" he asked, unnecessarily.

She dipped her head once in acknowledgment, uncertain, trying to gauge his reaction.

"You want to be an author?" he questioned, again unnecessarily.

"Yes," Dara replied, a little defiantly.

Drew broke into a broad grin, looping one long arm around her shoulders and giving her a brief squeeze before releasing her. Dara turned beet red.

"That's great!" he enthused. "I can totally see you doing that!"

"You can?" she said, disbelieving. "Why...what makes you think...?" she stopped.

"I don't know, it just seems like you, especially the fantasy stuff, using your imagination. It fits you, somehow."

Strangely, Dara felt close to tears. She didn't know why it would make such a difference, having it out in the open and having people believe in it, in _her_ , but it did.

"All done?" Shelley sidled up to their table. They all started talking about each other's projects at once, and Shelley somehow managed to catch the gist. She moved around the table, peering at each project, holding her tongue until she had seen them all. After finishing up with Jim's, she shook her head slowly, then looked at each on them, in turn. "These are truly wonderful. Look what you've done!" she exclaimed in admiration, waving a hand over the papers.

Dara sighed happily, watching Shelley continue to move around among the tables until she stood in front again.

"I've seen a lot of treasure maps in my time, but yours...you all just took your ideas and ran with them! You did great! You might ask..." She was interrupted by a sharp yip from down the hill and then a flash of grey streaked between the tables and out the other side. The grey streak was followed closely by a larger brown object, making an odd whining noise punctuated with deep barks that sounded as if they came from something much larger. The squirrel took a sharp right turn, shot out from under the canopy, and was up the pine tree in about 3 seconds. Rocky wasn't quite quick enough to make the turn. Back end sliding around, nails scrabbling as he tried to stop his forward momentum, he slammed into Drew's legs. Everyone gasped, but he bounced off, seemingly unharmed, and went tearing off after the squirrel. Resting fuzzy front paws against the trunk, bright gaze fastened high up in the branches, he hurled challenges in reverberating woofs.

Cal reappeared a few moments later, hurrying toward the tree. "Sorry guys, Shelley," he called as he passed by. "Rock!" he called sharply. Rocky stopped barking and with a last look up the tree, reluctantly trotted over to Cal. "That's telling him!" Cal praised him, patting the top of his head. Rocky beamed, ears flattening momentarily under Cal's hand.

"Show's over, folks!" he smiled at the kids, a little sheepishly at Shelley. "The Rock has once again saved the planet from..." he trailed off under Shelley's stern gaze. "Ah, well, I'll let you get back to what you were doing. Come on, Rocky." He made a good show of nonchalance as the two of them went back down the hill, and Rocky sent one glance back at the tree.

Toby looked back to see Shelley shake her head. "I swear, there's something almost human about that dog. I'm not even sure he is a dog." She paused. "Anyway, you've done a terrific job with your treasure maps. There will be more sessions like this one, and you can add to the map you made today or make another one. When you're ready, the next step is to go to "Real World Magic". In that one, you'll find out more about making your maps come true. I'll leave you with a quote that ties in with "Real World Magic". The name of the person who said it is Antoine de Saint-Exupery, and please don't ask me to pronounce it again. What the man said was "A goal without a plan is just a wish." If you want a more modern quote, Dr. Oz said, "Failing to plan is planning to fail."

Chapter 14

Who Are You Being?

"C'mon, it's almost time for dinner! Strike him out!" a boy in a bright yellow shirt yelled at Patrick from behind the backstop, fingers laced in the chain link. He rattled the fence for emphasis. Patrick did not even glance at him, remaining intent on the catcher's glove, held exactly where he needed to place the ball. He rolled the ball around in his hand, shook his head at the catcher, nodded at the catcher, looked right and then left, and scowling a la Goose Gossage back in the day, let loose with a slow-motion, loopy underhand pitch that floated toward the small figure at the plate.

Frowning fiercely, the boy cocked the bat, tightened his grip, and put his whole body into the swing. Patrick was afraid he'd spin right around and fall over, but then the tip of the bat connected with a muted thunk, sending the ball rolling slowly toward first. The boy dropped the bat and ran, short legs pumping. Patrick bent leisurely to pick up the ball and lobbed it easily to the first baseman, beating the boy by seconds.

"That's it, let's go eat!" someone called out. As the other players started walking off the field, Patrick ambled over to the boy, who was in the process of getting a nuggie from the guy on first. "You barely got me!" he was saying triumphantly, grinning despite being in a headlock.

"Yeah, it was close...Not!!" the first baseman replied, giving the smaller boy's head a final rub and releasing him.

Patrick reached the two of them. "Hey, shrimp! Not bad!" he called out, holding up a palm. Teddy jumped up and slapped his hand, while the first baseman smiled and walked away, slapping the ball in his glove.

"Strong in the Force, is this one," Patrick intoned.

Teddy laughed. "Do more Yoda!" he pleaded.

Patrick shook his head. "Hungry I am!" he said, tugging on Teddy's sleeve to get him to follow. They plodded up the dirt path, Teddy happily chattering to Patrick until he caught sight of his mother by one of the cabins. Noreen waved to them both, and Teddy ran to her while Patrick continued on toward the lodge. "Mom!" he heard Teddy pant. "I almost made it to first!"

Patrick didn't hear Noreen's reply. He was almost past the bench under the wisteria arbor when he heard Jake's voice.

"Why do you hang around that little kid? Sucking up to the counselor or what?" he jeered, hands gripping the edge of the bench.

"I _like_ the kid...Geez, why don't you give it a rest, Jake?"

Jake frowned, then smiled unpleasantly. "Suit yourself, Utah. I don't care."

"Don't you ever get tired of being you?" was all Patrick said before going on into the lodge.

Jake's chest rose and fell rapidly with his breathing. He stared after Patrick for a long while after he disappeared inside, and continued to sit there in silence until startled by someone else plopping down on the bench beside him.

Ron let out a satisfied sigh and tilted the bottle of lemonade to his lips. Jake couldn't look away from the clear drops of condensation running the length of the bottle and dripping onto Ron's leg. Ron slid a look sideways at Jake. He lifted an eyebrow, silently offering a sip.

Jake started to shake his head no, then found himself reaching for the bottle. He took a cool draught, grateful for the icy liquid sliding down his throat. Reluctantly, he handed the bottle back.

"How did you like the horseback ride? You did well," Ron commented lazily.

"OK, I guess," he replied after a few moments of silence.

"Everyone else has gone into supper. I saw one of your cabinmates go by. How are you getting along?"

Jake huffed derisively. "Great. I can really relate to a rich geeky Okie and two losers from Utah." He was surprised to see Ron turn to him with a look of admiration.

"You do that so well! I can see you've put in plenty of practice," he complimented.

Jake looked at him as if he'd spoken Martian. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You have this tough guy, surly identity that you use a lot. I've caught glimpses of other ones, like Funny Jake and Introspective Jake, but from what I've seen, your favorite fallback identity is Surly Jake. How does that work for you?"

"What?" Jake asked again, completely mystified.

"Most people have different identities that they use in different situations or with different people, like wearing different hats. Are you the same way with your mom as you are with your teachers or with your friends?"

"Well, no...no," he said a little more strongly.

"Soooo, I noticed that you use your Surly Jake identity with just about everyone, most of the time. I asked you how that works for you. Are you happy with how people treat you when you are being Surly Jake?"

After a minute's pause, Jake finally said, "You know, you are weird, man."

"Sometimes," Ron agreed. "Although weirdness is in the eye of the beholder. Are you going to answer my question?"

"I don't even know what surly means," he admitted.

"Surly: rude, ill-tempered, sulky...churlish, grumpy, discourteous...peevish, cross...do I need to go on?"

"OK, OK, I get it!" Jake broke in, with one of the few genuine smiles Ron had seen. It was such a pleasure to see that he wanted to laugh. Instead, he kept silent, waiting.

Jake's smile slowly faded. He stared at his hands, clasped between his legs. With his head still bowed, he said "It's worked for me so far."

"You mean, the way people respond to you when you are being Surly Jake, that's how you'd like them to respond?"

"Surly Jake..." Jake tested the words, shaking his head slowly. "Surly Jake keeps people away and that's how I like it." He looked up defiantly, chin raised.

"Uh huh. What do you get by keeping people away? I mean, what's the payoff for you?"

"They don't ask me questions!" he shot back. Ron just looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised. Jake ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the brown tips curling behind his ear. "They don't expect things of me, they don't bug me, they don't try to make me dig up a bunch of stuff that's none of their business, they leave me alone!!" he finished, breathing hard.

Ron nodded. "And what do you get out of being left alone?"

Jake felt tears start in his eyes and thought frantically, What is it with this place? I'm doing fine and then I'm crying! Again! He covered his eyes with one hand, fighting for control. The words kept rolling through his head, What do I get out of being left alone, what do I get out of being left alone?... "I get..." he started to say out loud and then stopped. Swallowing hard, Jake said "If you don't expect anything from people, they can't let you down." The last words were whispered so he wouldn't sob.

Ron sat forward on the bench. "Would you mind saying that again?"

"I said, if you don't expect anything from people, they can't let you down." The words came out shakily and he barely managed to complete the sentence.

"Again," Ron said.

Despite his upset, Jake grimaced. "You sound like the coach in that hockey movie, _Miracle._ "Again", he intoned in a deep, solemn voice.

"Hey, Funny Jake!" Ron said in surprise. "Good to see you!"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Why do you want me to say it again? You haven't tortured me enough?"

"Indulge me, would you?"

Jake heaved a huge sigh. "If you don't..." and that was as far as he got before a huge sob got caught in his chest. His chest strained and he turned quickly away from Ron. The tears he had suppressed spilled over.

Ron saw the boy's shoulders shake, wanted to comfort him, but knew that wasn't what Jake needed most. "What are you thinking of, Jake?" Ron asked softly. He dug into his pocket and came up with a clean kerchief and tapped Jake's arm with it. Jake grabbed it without saying a word.

Turning back after swabbing his face, Jake gave a final sniff, not looking at Ron. "I...I don't know what happened there. I mean, what made me..."

"I'll bet you do know," Ron said gently. "What were you thinking about when you got upset?"

Jake continued to sit with his shoulders hunched and Ron thought he wouldn't answer after all. Then Jake sighed and began "I was thinking about when I was a little kid...you know, maybe 6 or 7 years old. I wrote this funny poem...it was great because my mom read it and laughed really hard. She...said we had to show it to my dad, said he'd love it," he said in a subdued voice. "Yeah, right," he added bitterly.

"What happened?"

"We waited until my dad got home. And like an idiot, I ran up to him and shoved the paper in his face. He grabbed it and read it and said "What is this... shit?" Jake imitated in an angry, slurred voice. He shook his head again. "Then he dropped it on the floor and went on into the kitchen to grab a beer. Didn't say a word to me...My dad, father of the year," he finished softly.

Ron watched him carefully. "Anything else?"

Jake exhaled a short bark of laughter. "Yeah. I keep hoping he'll change...that he'll act like he...he _cares_...but he never does. Well, now he doesn't even have the chance to...I mean, he just disappeared off the planet." He spoke with a rather chillingly grown up matter-of-factness.

"So what have been the consequences...you know what consequences are?" Ron asked.

"That one I know, yes," he grimaced.

Ron nodded. "What have been the consequences of your dad treating you like he doesn't care?"

Jake gulped as another sob suddenly fought its way up his throat, and he threw his head back, shaking as the tears came again. "That I don't matter," he whispered through tight lips. "At least, to him."

"Uh huh. And what about the consequences for him? For your dad?"

Jake frowned, brought up short. The tears dried as he concentrated on the question. "Um...well, he doesn't get to be around my mom and me. My mom is great. I mean, she's strict sometimes, but she...she likes to laugh and she...she loves me," he said as if he was surprised. "And he's missing out on me, too. I've messed up lately, but I'm...I'm a good person. I'm smart and I can make people laugh. He didn't even bother to get to know me!"

"A very great loss for him," Ron commented, which made Jake smile. "Your dad has a very special kid, wise, funny...sometimes surly..." He got another smile with that. "...and he doesn't get to spend time with you. Too bad." Ron paused and then asked, "Will you do one more thing for me? Will you say it again, about not expecting anything from people?"

Jake looked at him resignedly, and when Ron continued to stare back at him, sighed. "If you don't expect anything from people, they can't let you down." The words came out calmly and without hesitation. He looked at Ron in surprise.

"Thank you," Ron said. "It would be a good idea for you to spend a little time later thinking about that belief. See what's really true for you."

Hands on his pants legs, Jake relaxed against the back of the bench. He looked at Ron with clear eyes and sighed again. "Can we get something to eat now?" he asked.

Ron laughed, switching gears. "Sure. I heard a rumor about barbecued ribs. I hope it's true."

Jake shot off the bench, leaving no doubt how he felt about barbecued ribs.

The noise inside the lodge was almost deafening. It seemed like everyone was talking and laughing, while plates clattered, utensils scraped, and feet shuffled under tables. Jake caught a glimpse of Stacy's blonde ponytail disappearing through the kitchen door as someone else came out with a large platter of rolls. He hurried toward the end of the table where he'd sat before, then noticed that it was occupied. Along one side was Drew, the big kid who went on the horseback ride that morning, a slim, pretty girl with pale blonde hair, and Toby, his cabin mate. On the other side, her back to him, was another girl, this one with the same color hair as Drew's. Jake did a double take when he saw a pair of rabbit ears rising above the bench next to Toby. He'd been about to turn away and go somewhere else, but the ears drew him forward. As he got closer, he could see bright brown eyes set beneath the huge ears, which did not, in fact, belong to a rabbit, but apparently to a...dog. Jake tilted his head, observing the tufts of hair on the tips of the dog's ears, the neat beard, the intelligent eyes. The dog regarded Jake calmly, then mirrored his movement, tilting its own head before licking his lips and relaxing his jaws in a wide grin. Jake laughed and Rocky ran under the table, straight to him, placing shaggy paws on his shins. Jake leaned down and ran his fingers along Rocky's back.

"Hi, there. What the heck are you? Part bunny?"

Toby, surprised at the dog's response, leaned closer to Dara and whispered. "No accounting for taste". Dara looked puzzled, glancing from Toby to Jake.

Caroline had turned around on the bench to face him. "He's part schnauzer and part something else," she chimed in. "We haven't figured out the something else part yet."

Jake nodded, taking a closer look at the stubby legs and thick body. He fluffed the fur up backwards and saw pale orange beneath the brindled brown and black. He frowned and looked at the dog's head again. "Ah," he smiled suddenly. "I think I know what you are!"

Toby forgot his dislike, at least for the moment. "You know? How...well, what is he, then?" he prompted, not really believing that Jake knew.

He pretended to look the dog over again and dug his fingers into the mane of fur around the neck, finding a good place to scratch. Rocky immediately lay down and offered his belly instead. "Belly rub?" Jake asked rhetorically, his hand already rubbing along the white strip running from the dog's chest to his belly.

"Do you really know? Please tell us," pleaded Caroline.

"Well, he's not a labradoodle, or a puggle, or even a schnoodle."

Drew snorted. "How about coming up with a real kind of dog?"

"Those are real kinds of dogs. They're cross breeds...you know, labrador and poodle, pug and beagle?" Jake saw only blank stares and shook his head at their ignorance. "Schnauzer and poodle mix?" he tried.

When he still got no response, he rolled his eyes. "Mixes...you, know!" he finally said, exasperated.

"We're not stupid," Dara replied huffily. "We know mutts...but not schnoo...schnoodles!" she finished defensively.

Jake blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I...I used to volunteer at the Humane Society. I learned all kinds of things about dogs." He looked up with his old cockiness. "And this little guy here...he's a schnorgi."

"A schnorgi?" Toby repeated doubtfully.

"Yeah, a cross between a schnauzer and a corgi," Jake explained.

"What's a corgi?" Caroline asked.

"It's a herding dog. If you've seen pictures of the Queen of England and her dogs, she's got a bunch of corgis. They look kinda like dachshunds on steroids, but with big, stand-up ears", he demonstrated, holding his fingers up by his ears.

Jake shrugged and stood up, suddenly ravenous. He looked up and down the table for a good spot to sit, but before he could move, Caroline had grabbed his wrist and pulled him down onto the empty spot beside her. She put a plate of ribs into his hands before he could make another sound, as Toby scowled at him from across the table.

"My name's Caroline," she said. "And that's my brother, Drew," she pointed with her chin, having already filled her hands with a bowl of salad in one, honey glazed carrots in the other.

"We've met," Jake interjected shortly, his eyes on Drew.

"And Dara, and you know Toby," Caroline continued.

"Jake," was all he said, having expended an entire day's worth of his usual conversation just talking about the dog, two days, if he counted his talk with Ron. He heaped some ribs on his plate, selecting the ones with the most crusty barbecue sauce, and passed the platter over to Toby, who took it with begrudging thanks.

It was silent for a while as everyone helped themselves to potato salad, beans, carrots, rolls, and anything else within their reach.

Before Jake could dig in, the bench shook slightly as someone dropped heavily into the place on the other side of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw frizzy blonde hair, but he ignored the new arrival and attacked his first rib with ferocity.

"Hey, everybody! Howzitgoin?" Corinne blurted, reaching for the rib platter. Caroline looked at her closely. Corinne smiled brightly and began chattering away about her afternoon. She and one of the counselors, Lauren, and two other kids had gone on a hike along the ridge above the camp, and Corinne was full of the sights they'd seen, how much fun they'd had, why the others should do it, too, and on and on until Jake look over at her with a pained expression. Toby almost laughed, watching Jake's face, but didn't say anything, waiting to see what would happen.

Caroline had seen Jake's face, too, and was afraid he was about to blast Corinne. She broke in hurriedly. "I didn't see you all afternoon, Corinne, and wondered where you were. You left this morning's class in a big hurry. I...was hoping you were alright."

"Oh, sure...why wouldn't I be? I just got tired of sitting there...it was soooo boring," she claimed offhandedly. She quickly shoveled some coleslaw into her mouth and looked down the table the other way.

Caroline and Dara exchanged a look. Caroline shrugged and continued eating. Dara stared at Corinne for a moment longer, then turned back to her plate, as well. Toby and Drew looked from one girl to the other to the other, with raised eyebrows. Only Jake seemed unaware of the tension, methodically stirring beans into his coleslaw, then piling the whole mixture on a warm roll and chomping half of it in one bite. Toby looked on with revulsion, while Caroline, always an adventurous eater, grabbed a roll and made a bean-slaw sandwich for herself.

Little conversation took place as bones piled higher and higher on plates, rolls disappeared, and quantities of potato salad were consumed, washed down with water, milk, and lemonade. Drew finally groaned and pushed his plate away. Dara had finished and quietly asked Caroline something, Corinne listened in, Toby mopped up some barbecue sauce with a bite of roll, and Jake polished off the last rib.

A cowbell rang and Noreen called out, "If you'll bring your plates and platters and things to the passthrough, we'll get this cleaned up pretty painlessly. I'm sure you all left room for dessert"....she was interrupted by cheers and some groans. Noreen grinned. "Tonight is movie night, so we'll be setting up some extra chairs by the t.v. and we can have dessert instead of popcorn. Stacy has mango con crema for us, one of my personal favorites."

"What the heck is mango whatever she said?" Toby whispered to Dara, who shrugged in reply.

"The movie will start at 7:30, so you'll have time to go back to your cabins for a few minutes, if you like, maybe work up a little appetite for dessert."

"What's the movie?" someone called out.

"Oh," cried Noreen, excitedly. "One you won't want to miss... _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_!"

This was greeted with many groans, some catcalls, and a few puffs of disbelieving laughter.

"What's wrong with _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_?" Caroline demanded. "It's a good show!"

"Actually, I think there's been a last minute change,", Noreen continued. "The movie will be _Big Fat Liar_."

There was some general clapping, and at least no groans this time. "I also want to introduce you to another member of our staff, who just returned to us today. Cal, would you come up here, please?"

Cal ambled up in front of the tables. The toucan trunks were gone, replaced by blue and yellow Sponge Bob scrub pants and pink crocs. He held up a hand in greeting. "Hey, everybody. It's good to be back. If you have any questions or need something, just ask me. You might see my pal, Rocky, running around here, too. He's shorter than me, with bigger ears." He scanned the floor, trying to spot him. There was a muted woof from somewhere off to the right, then Rocky crawled out from under the far table, a large rib bone in his teeth. "Ah, you got a prize!" Cal said, watching the dog turn and trot toward the door, stubby tail held high. "Well, that was him, anyway. Say, you all look like you could use a good joke."

"Thank you so much, Cal!" Noreen broke in, tugging on his elbow. "We really should let them go so they can get ready for the movie."

Cal didn't budge. "Right. This will only take a minute. OK, so two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other: "Does this taste funny to you?"

There were even more groans than Noreen got for _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_. Cal waved jauntily, shot a triumphant look at Noreen, and headed out the door.

People stood, grabbed plates, platters, knives and forks, and starting clearing up. Dara asked Corinne if she wanted to see the movie with she and Caroline, and Corinne followed them out after they dropped off their plates. Drew and Toby left, with brief nods to Jake, who had just piled his silverware and napkin on his plate when Ron came up to him.

"Jake," Ron said in greeting.

"Hi," Jake replied uncertainly.

"I told you I'd ask you for your decision tonight. About whether you want to stay at camp or go home. What do you want to do?"

Jake stood there holding his dirty dishes, not looking at Ron. After a moment, he said quietly, "I guess it would be OK if I stayed."

"I want to make sure I understand you," Ron responded. "Do you _want_ to stay?"

Slowly, Jake nodded his head. "Yeah, I...I want to stay here."

Ron smiled. "That's great!"

"What would you have done if I'd said I wanted to leave?" Jake challenged.

"I would have called your mom, like I said before, and told her our camp policy. We don't want anyone here who doesn't choose to be here. We don't force anything on anyone." He waited to see if Jake had more to say, but he just folded his lips and nodded. "I'm not watching the movie," Ron added, "but I'll be around long enough to get some of Stacy's dessert, if you want to talk to me, OK?"

"Thanks," Jake managed, pretty sure he'd done way too much talking already. Ron smiled and turned, and Jake shuffled off to the passthrough.

Chapter 15

Big Fat Liar

The three girls entered the cabin, Corinne silent for a change...but not for long. She walked over to her bunk, orange flipflops slapping against the floor. Caroline and Dara made eye contact briefly, then looked away again.

"Well, that was pretty good for camp food. I'm stuffed. Doesn't mean I won't have dessert, though, no matter what it is," Corinne said in almost her usual rapidfire speech.

Caroline was tired of feeling uncomfortable, tired of Corinne pretending she was all flaky cheerfulness. "I wish you'd stop doing that, Corinne. You flipped out this morning and practically ran out of the building. Then you act like nothing happened. _Some_ thing happened, I just don't know what." She stopped, waiting for Corinne to say something.

Corinne had been staring down at her bunk, but she finally raised her head, looking first at Dara and then Caroline. From somewhere deep inside, she dredged up a cheeky smile. "Nothing's wrong," she claimed in a singsong voice. "So I ran out. What's the big deal? It doesn't _mean_ _any_ thing!"

Caroline shook her head, patience exhausted. "You could trust us, you know. We want to help."

Corinne said nothing and Caroline sighed. "Forget it," she said disgustedly.

Dara started to speak, then held her tongue. She didn't know what to say.

Corinne bent over her suitcase, picked up a red and purple striped cami, and went into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind her.

"Don't say it!" Caroline held up a hand. "I just made it worse, I know...I didn't know what else to do."

Dara stepped closer and gave her a quick hug. "You tried, at least."

"Yeah," agreed Caroline, grimacing.

They sat on Dara's bunk for a while, flipping through an ancient Teen People with the cast of High School Musical on the cover, until Corinne came out of the bathroom. "Well, are we going to the movie or not?" she demanded.

"We're going to the movie!" said Dara, getting off the bunk in one fluid motion while Caroline scooted to the edge and pushed herself up. The magazine was tossed aside, they grabbed hoodies, and were out the door in seconds.

Seats on the sofas were all taken so the three girls found some chairs instead. Patrick, Sean, and Toby were in the row behind them. Dara turned to say hi to Toby and caught Patrick's eye. He whispered something in a strange language with an elusively familiar cadence. She frowned, sharply drawn brows nearly meeting in a point over the bridge of her nose.

"What was that you were speaking?" she asked, puzzled. "What did you say?"

"It was Quenya...High Elvish. And I said "A star shines on the hour of our meeting". Sorry, I don't mean anything by it. It's just that you look sort of like an elf...I mean that in a good way...I mean..."

"Don't mind him," Sean broke in. "He just blurts things out. We call it being in external speaker mode; everything that comes into his brain goes out his mouth. No filtering system."

Patrick gave him a shove. "That's not true. I think before I speak a lot. I mean I think a lot before I speak."

Sean laughed, as did Toby and Dara. "It's OK", said Dara. "I love _Lord of the Rings_ so it's kind of nice to be thought of as, um, elvish." She looked at Patrick more closely. "How did you memorize those words? It seems like it would be really hard, especially when you can't see how they're spelled or anything...or maybe that wouldn't help."

"I can copy sounds pretty good, so hearing it helps me the most. And you _can_ see how some of the language is spelled, if you read the _Lord of the Rings_ books. Anyway, there probably isn't anybody around here who'd know if I made a mistake, is there?" he said with a grin.

"You got that right!" Sean said, giving him a little shove back.

"Almost show time, everybody!" Cal called from somewhere near the kitchen. "Who wants to help pass out dessert?"

There were plenty of volunteers and soon everyone had a bowl and spoon. Toby looked dubiously at his bowl and saw some cut-up fruit that looked kind of like peach with some milk poured over the top. He poked it with his fork, gingerly lifting a small bite to his mouth. Tasting an amazing burst of sweet flavor coated in something rich and smooth, he dug in again and didn't stop until the bowl was empty. Sitting back, he noticed that the twins had finished theirs, too.

"I wonder if there's seconds?" he heard Patrick say. "I _love_ mangos con crema!"

"I've never had mangos before," Toby shared. "Was that just cream on top or what?"

"Yeah, like whipping cream that wasn't whipped...I'm going to go see if there's more!" He made it halfway to the kitchen when Cal announced that there were no seconds; he asked people to bring their bowls to the passthrough and they'd start the movie in just a minute.

Patrick returned to his seat dejectedly, having licked the bowl and dropped it off along with his spoon.

"It's OK, bro. Teddy told me his mom said we're having butterscotch brownies tomorrow night."

Patrick brightened. "Oooh, butterscotch brownies! Better than chocolate!"

Dara, Caroline, and Corinne looked at each other in shared disbelief. "Did he say better than chocolate?" Caroline demanded.

Cal walked in front of the t.v. and thumbed the remote to start the DVD, then muted it. "Anybody want to hear a little pre-movie joke?"

"NO!" a couple of the other counselors and not a few campers yelled out.

Cal shook his head. "Don't know what you're missing." He moved out of the way as the previews started playing. Rocky was curled up on someone's lap on the sofa and showed no disposition to move. Resting his head on his front paws, he followed people with just his eyes, and an occasional twitch of a tufted eyebrow.

Jim sat on a bench outside his cabin, looking up at the stars and enjoying the cooler air. He was a very long way from home, but wasn't much bothered by it. His dad was an oceanographic researcher and Jim had traveled many places with him. He hadn't pushed Jim to follow in his footsteps, but Jim came to love the ocean anyway. Snorkeling with sea lions at Los Islotes, diving off a wreck in the Virgin Islands, surfing in Costa Rica...he had been very, very lucky and was grateful for all of it. Often, his mum came with them, but sometimes it was just Jim and his dad. Jim loved it, either way.

He would have liked to watch _Big Fat Liar_ with the others, but after such a long flight, thought it would put him right to sleep. Having heaps of experience with jet lag, he knew he had to stay awake as long as he could to help reset his body clock. Content with watching the familiar stars, he sighed and leaned his head back against the wooden rail of the bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flash on briefly, then go out again. It wasn't in the sky, but close to the ground. He raised his head, peering intently at the spot where he thought he'd seen the light, close by where the pond must be. Nothing pierced the darkness and he had just about given up when the light flared again for a few seconds and went out.

Jim stood up and began to walk slowly, head cocked for any sound, eyes glued forward. He was almost to the spot where he expected to run into the pond, but had heard and seen nothing more. One more step brought his foot down on a dry branch, which cracked like a pistol shot in the still night.

"Sssssshhhhh!" a voice hissed furiously. The sound was so close Jim nearly jumped straight into the pond, which was, in fact, directly in front of him. He backed up a step or two and strained his eyes trying to see the source of the voice. Finally, he thought he could make out the outline of someone squatting beside the pond's edge. Suddenly, the light flashed on again, not aimed at Jim, but at the water. The beam scanned back and forth, illuminating a flat surface where nothing stirred. Jim heard a sigh and the beam clicked off again. The squatting figure rose.

"Well, you might as well come closer. You've already scared 'em all away," the voice said disgustedly.

"Scared what away?" Jim asked, wondering who the voice belonged to.

"Frogs. There's a bunch of them out there."

Jim's eyes brightened. "May I borrow your torch?"

"My what?"

"Um, your flashlight. Can I have it for a moment?" he asked, putting out a hand.

He felt the grip against his palm and searched for the switch. Scanning the pond again, he shone the beam on the far edge among the reeds and was rewarded with the reflected gleam of eyes.

"There!" his companion said in an excited undertone. The eyes disappeared immediately, followed by the sound of a small splash.

Jim pointed the flashlight toward the ground. He could dimly see the other boy's features and recognized him from dinner. Jim had looked for Dara, but all the seats near her had been taken, one of them by this boy. "Hi, I'm Jim," he offered. "Sorry about chasing the frogs away. I expect they'll come out again soon if we're quiet for a bit."

"Jake," the boy mumbled.

Jim squatted down with his back against a tree. "I like frogs, too. Actually, almost anything that lives in water."

When Jake said nothing, he continued, "How about you? Or are you out here because you don't like _Big Fat Liar_?"

Jake ignored the question. Instead, he asked "Where are you from?"

"Australia. Brizzy, um, Brisbane. I expect I don't talk like a Texan, eh?" he smiled.

This drew a grin from Jake. "Not quite. Neither do I," he added wryly. After a pause, Jake asked "What are you doing out here? I mean, why did you come to this camp?" his low opinion of the camp plain in his voice.

Jim stared at him thoughtfully as he flicked a bleached blonde lock off his forehead. "You don't like it here?" he asked. "Why'd you come, then?"

"My mom thought I was too young to be by myself during the day," he scoffed. "So she picked this stupid camp for me." As soon as he said it, Jake heard Ron's voice in his head saying "Surly Jake". Ron had taken most of the fun out of being surly, he thought to himself resentfully. He cleared his throat. "I got into some trouble this year...my mom couldn't trust me alone, so she found this place for me," he admitted, surprising himself and Jim.

Jim switched the flashlight from his right hand to his left and back again. "What did you do...if you don't mind me asking?"

Jake shook his head. "I....stole some stuff with a friend. Well, not really a friend, but...Anyway, I stole," he said flatly. Lifting his head, Jake added. "I wouldn't do it again."

Jim nodded. "It isn't much fun, is it?"

Jake started to agree, then looked intently at Jim. "You mean...did you steal, too?"

Jim nodded again. "When I was about 10 years old. I wanted a new surfboard and my parents said it was too much money. I couldn't stop thinking about that board. I was in a shop one day buying some lollies and I saw a jar of money standing on a barrel by the door. It was a collection for a guy who had cancer. I picked up the jar on my way out and tucked it under my shirt."

"You stole from a guy with _cancer_!?" Jake asked in disbelief.

Jim folded his lips and nodded. "Yeah. I didn't look at it that way at the time, of course. I had the idea the government would take care of him and likely the amount in the jar wouldn't do him much good." He shook his head ruefully.

"What happened?" Jake asked, awed.

"I was so nervous that when I went up the steps to my house, I dropped the jar and it shattered. My mum came running and that was that."

"What did she do?"

"She asked me where it came from and I said some kid gave it to me for my skateboard."

"Hooo!" breathed Jake. "Did she believe you?"

Jim snorted. "She pointed over the rail beside the step and said "That skateboard?" and I looked and saw my skateboard leaned up against the rail."

Jake started laughing.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't funny at the time," though his face still wore a small grin. "My mum asked me what happened and I told her...it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

Jake perfectly understood this. "Did she yell at you or what?"

"No. She's not much for yelling. She asked me how I felt about what I'd done. Well, of course, I felt like the biggest Galah ever. And I told her so."

Jake didn't know what a "Gala" was, but he got the point. "Did she make you go to the police or anything?

"Worse. She asked me how I was going to fix it. I said I'd take the money back to the shop and apologize and she said that would be a fine start and what else? I ended up agreeing to clean out the garden shed and some other odd jobs to earn double the money that had already been in the jar."

Jake whistled softly. "How long did that take you?"

"Everyday after school, as well as weekends, for about three months...But I'm glad I did it. I thought it would be really hard to give up that money, but when I went to the shop and put it in the jar, it was almost like it made everything OK. It was still wrong in the first place, but I felt good about what I did afterwards, if that makes sense to you."

Jake nodded. "Ever get that surfboard?"

Jim laughed softly. "Not only didn't get it, but didn't want it anymore! I used my old board for another few years, then mowed lawns for another summer and bought a different board with that money."

"Oh...How old are you? I'm 13," Jake offered.

"I'll be 15 in a couple of months."

"So, why did you come here? I mean, you live all the way in Australia."

"Oh, I've been here before. My parents visit every once in awhile and I've come with them."

"Your parents? What did they...what did they do here? What was this place before it was a camp?" Jake asked, puzzled.

Jim thought about how to answer. "Well, it was kind of the same, only geared to adults...not so many activities. Mostly it was a place where they could learn about handling things in life and working through stuff that bothers them."

Jake looked horrified. "And you had to do that with them?"

"It wasn't awful, really. I got to play a lot whilst they did what they did. Actually, even though it was hard to talk about things sometimes, we always got on better afterwards, at home. They treated me less like a kid and they listened to me and...it's hard to explain...But I think if they hadn't come here, things would have been different in my family. Not so good."

Jake frowned, but all he said was "Huh."

The silence was broken by croaking, first one alone, then another and another. They seemed to be taking turns, like the Budweiser toads. Jim switched the flashlight on again. Several pairs of eyes were reflected back. They heard a single splash, and the other eyes remained.

"I really like Amanda Bynes," Caroline leaned over and whispered in Dara's ear. "I felt bad when she had such a hard time."

"Me, too. She was so good in _What A Girl Wants_. I love that movie!

"Sssshhh!" someone hissed.

Dara lifted her slanted brows and shrugged. They were quiet for awhile, enjoying the silly story, then laughing at a ridiculous, blue Paul Giamatti, the guy who played the slimy producer. Even Corinne laughed. By the time Frankie Muniz finally delivered his "Truth is not overrated" line, most people were ready to call it a night. For some reason, they were wiped out, even though it was only 10:00pm.

Cal turned off the set, and people got up, stretching and yawning. Corinne joined Dara and Caroline as they made their way back to the cabin. A jaw-cracking yawn from Dara broke the silence. "Well, are you glad you didn't stay in and read?" Caroline asked her.

Dara nodded her head, yawning again. "And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm too tired to start _Brisingr_ tonight. She slumped on the bunk, watching Caroline gather up her pajamas, toothbrush, and toothpaste, and head for the bathroom. Dara hadn't moved when Caroline came out, but she had thought of something while she sat there. "I didn't see your brother tonight," she commented offhandedly.

Caroline shared a look with Corinne, who had been sitting on her own bunk, dragging a pick through her curls. "No, he probably wanted to draw. He likes that better than watching movies...or just about anything else."

Reluctant to give up the subject of Drew, Dara said "I saw him swim today. He's good!"

"I know, the doofus! He's disgustingly good at just about anything he tries, but he'd rather do art. You have no idea what it was like growing up with him." She brooded a moment on past grievances. "At least I'm better at team sports, and I'm way better at science. Guess I take after my dad that way."

Dara wanted to talk about Drew more, but couldn't think of a way to bring him into the conversation again. She got unexpected help when Corinne chimed in. "Your brother's nice. He tried to help me with my marshmallows last night...and he's not bad looking!" she added with an impish smile.

Caroline stared at her. "Are you seriously trying to tell me you like my brother? I mean _like like_ my brother?"

Corinne tossed her curls. "No, I'll leave that to Dara," she said teasingly.

Dara turned bright red and made a show of turning pages in the Teen People.

"Dara?" Caroline challenged her.

Dara turned another page without looking up. When she finally did look up, she found both Caroline and Corinne watching her expectantly.

She rolled her eyes and threw down the magazine. "OK, OK. I...think your brother is cute...and nice".

"And?" Caroline prompted.

"And..." Dara began. "And I...like him," she admitted reluctantly.

Both of the other girls squealed and hurried over to sit on either side of her.

"Did he say anything to you?" Corinne demanded.

" _I_ think he likes _you,_ " stated Caroline with conviction.

Dara looked at her hopefully. "Really? Why do you...what makes you think that?"

"He keeps looking at you. He usually doesn't pay any attention to my friends. And he's _never_ drawn a picture of any of them." Dara had borrowed the picture from Toby to show Caroline and Corinne. "Want me to ask him?"

"No!" Dara said forcefully. "Please, please don't say anything to him about this!" she pleaded.

"OK, I won't, if you don't want me to," she agreed quickly.

Dara turned to Corinne. "Promise you won't say anything?"

"Of course," Corinne said lightly.

Chapter 16

The Rockman Cometh

Teddy scooted along on his belly, peering into the darkness under the cabin. "Rocky!" he hissed. "Do you see him?"

There was silence and then a curious sound that started as a high whine, turned into a low growl, and ended on an ear-splitting single-note bark, followed by frantic scrabbling noises. As Teddy strained to see, his eyes widened and he rolled to the side just in time to get out of the way as a squirrel flew past him out from under the cabin, Rocky right on his tail.

As Teddy lay on his back, breathing hard, he heard the cabin door slam and an irritated female voice exclaiming, "What the...?" before trailing off. Footsteps approached and a halo of frizzy blonde hair blocked out the morning sun.

"What are you _doing_ down there?" Corinne demanded. "And why are you doing it so loudly? People are trying to sleep around here, you know!"

Teddy sat up slowly. "I almost got run over by a squirrel!" he said earnestly.

"Well, that makes perfect sense."

Teddy was not very old, but he knew irony when he heard it. "It's true!" he insisted. "Rocky chased a squirrel under here and had him trapped for awhile. The squirrel..."

"Who's Rocky?" she interrupted. "Your imaginary friend?"

"No!" Teddy replied indignantly. "Rocky is the best dog in the world. He and Cal are buddies, and he's my buddy, too."

"That dog with the rabbit ears? Great. Just keep him away from my cabin, would ya?"

Teddy nodded his head solemnly, rubbing his arm and then wincing.

Corinne had half turned to go back inside, but she saw Teddy's face and turned back. "You OK, buddy? Did you hurt yourself?"

Teddy was looking down at his arm, gingerly pulling up the grimy sleeve of his t-shirt. He noticed the usual dirt streaks, scratches, and scrapes, but there was also a small hole bleeding sluggishly. Corinne took his arm in her hand and gently turned it to get a better look at the puncture. "Hmmm. Looks like you landed on something sharp."

Teddy's breath caught as she put a little pressure on one side of the wound and tried to see inside. "Uh oh." She compressed her lips and shook her head.

"What??" he breathed.

"I think there's an Indian arrowhead stuck in there," Corinne stated. Teddy frowned. "Either that or the tip of a velociraptor claw. Come on, we better get you to your mom so she can do surgery."

Teddy grinned slowly, his small face lighting with pleasure. Getting into the spirit of things, he claimed "It's not an arrowhead or a velociraptor claw. It's a sabre-toothed tiger fang!"

Corinne's mouth quirked up on one side. "What was I thinking?" she said as she walked with him up the hill. "I should have known it wasn't a velociraptor claw. That was just plain silly. Good thing you know your prehistoric animal parts."

He chuckled then, an infectious sound that caused Corinne to grin widely as they approached the lodge. She handed him over to Lauren, who had come to the entry, and laughed softly to herself when she heard Teddy tell Lauren proudly, "I got a sabre-tooth tiger fang in my arm!"

Lauren looked thoughtfully at Corinne's retreating back, then turned to usher Teddy to his mother. "I hate it when that happens," she told him.

Corinne had intended to go back to the cabin and back to bed, but found herself wandering farther down the hill. She found a nice spot under a tree by the pond. The grass was already flattened and she sat crosslegged with her back to the tree and closed her eyes. Only a few minutes had gone by when she felt something cold pressed to her knee and opened her eyes with a start. She found herself confronted by large brown eyes, topped by a pair of magnificent ears.

Corinne snorted. "Oh, it's you. Mighty squirrel hunter. No luck, huh, or did you already eat him?"

Rocky continued to watch her, opening his mouth and allowing a long pink tongue to loll out the side as he panted gently.

"You know, a little Listermint now and then wouldn't hurt you."

He widened his jaws in a prodigious yawn, then closed his mouth with a snap.

Corinne yawned, too. "I know the feeling. In fact, it's your fault. You woke me up way too early." She reached down and lazily scratched the brindled fur between his ears. Rocky flopped down and sighing, rested his head on her knee. Corinne leaned back against the tree again and let her eyes drift shut.

"I know we might not be able to spot any during the day, but I still want to have a look," Jake insisted as they drew closer to the pond.

"Worth a try," responded Jim agreeably.

They pulled up short when they saw the two figures sprawled beneath the tree, but it was too late. Both heads came up, one wild blonde curls, the other wiry brownish fur, and both looked reproachfully at the boys.

"Is it too much to ask to get some sleep around here?" Corinne grumbled, rubbing her eyes dramatically. But Rocky had spotted Jake, apparently recognizing him with approval from the night before; he scrambled up and trotted over to him, once more going up on his stubby hind legs to place over-sized paws on Jake's shins.

"Hi, buddy," Jake said, reaching down to gently pull his ears. "This is Rocky." Jake straightened and turned toward Jim.

"I know. We met yesterday, sort of. He was chasing a squirrel."

Corinne cocked an eyebrow at Rocky, but didn't say anything.

"He's some type of bitzer," Jim continued. "A mongrel, I mean".

"I know," responded Jake. "Schnauzer-corgi mix, I think."

Jim had been staring at Rocky with a slight frown. At Jake's words, the frown cleared and he snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that's it! I can see the corgi now."

"You two just go on talking like I'm not here, that's just fine with me," Corinne interjected. "Of course, it would have been better if you'd decided to have a conversation somewhere where I wasn't trying to take a nap, but hey, can't have everything, can you?

Jake looked down at Corinne with a slight curl to his lip, but Jim broke in with an apology. "Sorry about that. We came down to see if we could see any frogs or toads. Have you seen any?"

"Tough to do with your eyes closed. And if they're here, they haven't been noisy, like some people I could name. I suppose if any did show their faces, they'd be toast if the Rockinator spotted them."

Rocky stared up at Jake with a look that clearly said, "Who, me?" Jake suppressed a smile. He felt some surliness slip away and heaved a regretful sigh. "I saw you last night at dinner," he offered. "I'm Jake. This is Jim."

Jim nodded a greeting.

"Corinne," she said, nodding back warily.

Jake waited for Corinne's stream of consciousness verbal diarrhea to burst, but nothing happened. He looked at her curiously. Jake surprised himself by blurting out what came to mind. "You're different this morning. You're usually so...um..." He searched for a tactful phrase, again surprising himself, and came up with "chatty...Cranky this morning, but not chatty."

Corinne sat up a little straighter, her eyes shifting with a brief hunted look. "Gimme a break, I'm sleep-deprived here." She pushed herself off the ground. "C'mon, Rock, let's blow this joint, get outta Dodge, make like a banana...These guys need some male-bonding time." She pushed past Jim and Jake, and narrowly missed stepping into the pond. Rocky looked from Jake to Corinne, then gave a little hop over the edge of the pond and followed Corinne back up the hill.

Corinne glanced back once to see if he was following, then continued marching up the slope to her cabin. As she stepped over the threshold, she was relieved to find the cabin empty. Turning back to shut the door, she noticed Rocky standing just outside, watching her expectantly.

"Please come in, dear sir!" she invited, with exaggerated formality and a bow.

Rocky blinked solemnly and strode past her. Launching himself on to her bunk, he nosed a blanket aside, scratched the sheets, turned in a tight circle, scratched the sheets again, and repeated this process until finally collapsing on the bed with a satisfied sigh.

Corinne watched the whole show, as her blanket fell to the floor and the sheets became a tangled mess. "Comfy?" she inquired.

Rocky rested his head on his paws, rabbit ears at attention. She smiled ruefully and tugged gently on one of his ears. "You are something else, kiddo. I'm going to take a shower, so you hold down the fort, OK?"

Rocky sighed again and closed his eyes. "I'll take that as a Yes," Corinne said, as she grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Dressed in capris with wide black and purple stripes, a red cami, and a long pink v-necked tee, Corinne was working curl tamer into her hair when someone knocked on the door. After a last despairing glance in the mirror, she pulled open the door to find Cal, his red striped board shorts, turquoise tee, and orange beanie ever more jarring than her own outfit. "Hey, nice beanie!" she exclaimed admiringly. "I wish I could wear one of those, but..." she broke off, pointing at her rioting blonde curls "...I don't think it's physically possible to get one to stay on my head."

Cal smiled his slow grin, which widened when he noticed Rocky. The dog hadn't budged from the bed, but his tongue now lolled in a happy face. "I went looking for him down by the pond and Jim and Jake told me he was with you. Do you know both of them?"

"Jake sat by me at dinner last night. Jim I think I just met by the pond. Tall, surfer hair, has trouble pronouncing "squirrel"?" Corinne ventured.

"Yup, that's him. I think "squirrel" comes out a little differently in Australian," Cal laughed. "Jim spent some time here before it was a camp. Nice kid...good listener, too," he added, somewhat cryptically. He paused, pointing his chin at Rocky. "Is he OK here, or do you want me to take him with me?" he asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

Corinne looked back at the dog curled comfortably on her bunk. "Oh, he's alright, I guess," she said, with a casual air.

"If you're planning on going to any of the morning sessions, you can leave him with me, and then come find him when it's over, if you want. It's obvious he's happy hanging out with you."

Corinne had blanched at the thought of going back for another of those sessions, but all she said was "No, I don't guess I'll be going to any activities this morning. Me and Rock will just hang, if it's OK with you," she said, not looking at him.

"Fine with me, but if you aren't busy, maybe you'd like to help me with a little project I've got going. Do you mind getting dirty?"

"Well, that depends. Are we talking clean dirty or gross dirty?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"I'd call it clean dirty, but you still might want to change into something you don't mind getting muddy."

"OK," she agreed cautiously.

"Good," Cal said briskly. "I could really use the help. Meet me over by the fire pit after you've changed, and I'll show you the project. He turned on his heels, his long legged gait carrying him swiftly across the slope. Rocky got up and made a few more circles, then plopped down in the middle of her pillow.

"Make yourself at home, why don't 'cha?" Corinne asked him.

Rocky trotted jauntily ahead of Corinne, leading her to Cal, who was standing a bit downhill from the fire pit, staring at the ground. Corinne had changed into Utah Jazz basketball trunks, a very faded Lizzie McGuire t-shirt, and ratty plaid Converse low-tops. She came up beside Cal and looked down, too. They were standing on the edge of a large, tarp-lined pit. Next to the pit were two mounds of dirt, a shovel stuck upright in the middle of each pile. A hose snaked into the pit, a slow trickle moistening the very bottom.

"I think I like the pool you've already got better," she remarked.

"Wise guy," he responded goodnaturedly. "Are you ready to get dirty, or not?"

"Yeah, I'm up for it, but some clue about what it is would be good." She looked doubtfully at the dirt piles. Rocky had taken one look over the edge of the pit, then retreated to a nearby tree, where he stretched out on one side and closed his eyes.

"First, we're each going to grab a shovel and start loading up this hole." He yanked one of the shovels free and handed it to her, along with a pair of hot pink suede gardening gloves. "Thought you'd like the pink ones," he teased, pulling on a pair of pigskin gauntlet gloves for himself.

Corinne admired the gloves, thinking if you had to do manual labor, doing it in style was a good thing. She wondered if they came with a matching tool belt. So many possibilities...

"This pile here," Cal pointed, interrupting her pink reverie, "is sand. The one next to you is clay. I've been experimenting for a couple of weeks now to get the right ratio, which happens to be 2 to 1. So I'll throw in 2 shovelfuls of sand and you add one of clay. Got it?"

Corinne nodded. Nice day for making mud pies, she thought. And way better than sitting in the lodge having a stare-down with someone.

Cal dug his shovel in and threw sand into the pit. Corinne waited until after he'd done a second shovelful before tilting in a shovelful from the clay pile. They repeated the process until there was quite a mound in the pit and Corinne had started to think longingly of the real pool. She swiped at a bead of sweat that was getting ready to roll down the right side of her face, about to beg Cal for a break.

"That looks good!" he declared happily. He motioned her over to the tree where Rocky still snoozed, and rested his hand on a cooler she hadn't noticed. Cal lifted up the lid and peering inside, asked her "Water, Coke, or lemonade?"

"Coke," Corinne gasped, collapsing on the ground in the shade, her back against the tree. Cal handed her the can and she quickly popped the top, drinking deeply and gratefully.

Cal cooled off his forehead with a bottle of Dasani, before opening it and downing half. He sighed and reached a hand out to Rocky, who had lifted his head off the ground, his expression one of tolerance. Cal's fingers scratched along the sturdy belly, and Rocky turned over, all 4 legs in the air.

"You do good work, Miss Corinne," he praised. "I'm glad to have your help." He squinted at her as he lifted the bottle to his lips again. "Figured out what we're doing, yet?"

"Easy," Corinne replied, taking another cooling sip of soda, then laughing as a small belch escaped her. "Sorry, not used to soda," she explained sheepishly. "We're making a mud wrestling pit, right?"

"No mud wrestling," Cal said shortly. "What do you mean you're not used to soda? Are you a teenager, or not?"

"My mother wouldn't allow it in the house. She had us do this experiment where you drop a nail into a glass of Coke and let it sit for days, and the nail is supposed to dissolve. No Coke, no soda period, no candy, even at Halloween or Easter...after she left, my little sister went way overboard. Ate every sweet thing she could get her hands on. Good thing she got tired of it before she weighed 300 pounds." Corinne took another swallow of Coke. "Me, I don't have it often, even though I can have it whenever I want now..."she trailed off, looking uncharacteristically somber.

"What happened?" Cal asked gently.

She didn't ask him what he meant. Without looking up, she began to stroke the wiry fur on Rocky's side. "My mom and dad...I don't know how they ever ended up married, but it wasn't pretty. I mean, they didn't yell or fight or anything, they just didn't seem to like each other much, and they had, like, _nothing_ in common."

Rocky heaved a sigh and rolled farther over to give better access to his belly. Corinne obliged, working her fingers into the coarse fur. She glanced up at Cal, then returned her gaze to Rocky. "You know how they say opposites attract? Don't buy it." she finished a little bitterly.

"What happened?" Cal repeated.

"Oh, she found this other guy and moved out. We...my sister and I...see her a few times a year, but mostly we live with our dad. My mom's new husband...our step-dad, I guess you could call him," she added with a grimace, "he's pretty much awful. You try and talk to him and it's like he doesn't even hear. Like he has ideas about stuff and nothing you say will change his mind."

"Uh-huh. And your mom?" Cal prompted.

"She's happier and I'm glad for her...but I sure wouldn't want to live with them." She looked up then and Cal thought it was as if someone had thrown a switch. He saw the slightly manic grin transform her face, as she chirped, "But, hey, that's my oh-so-sad story, broken home, boo-hoo for me..." With a high, forced laugh, she pushed herself off the ground. "Are we going to finish this what-ever-the-heck-it-is, or not?" she demanded, brushing off the Jazz shorts and pulling on her pink gloves.

Cal got up, too, groaning slightly. "Oh, no, I made the old man sound when I got up. Bad sign."

"C'mon, old man. We've got work to do," she declared, marching off to the pit.

Cal took a last swig of water and loped to catch up with her. "We've got enough dirt, for now. We need to add more water until it gets kind of soupy. I'm going to turn up the hose for a couple of minutes, then we'll see what it looks like."

He walked over to the spigot and cranked the knob a couple of times. Corinne grabbed the hose and squirted the pit, until the water slowed to a dribble and Cal returned.

"Looks good. Now for the fun part," he told her, looking mischievous. "Are you ready to get dirty?"

" _Get_ dirty? I thought that's what we were already doing." Puzzled, she watched him drag off his shoes and socks.

"Well? Get your shoes and socks off!" he urged, clapping his hands.

Light dawned as she looked down into the pit. "No...you're not serious!" she exclaimed, staring wide eyed at him.

Cal just smiled. Suddenly, her eyes brightened. "You're on, man!" She toed off her Converse, and since she hadn't been wearing any socks, stood in her bare feet on the rim of the pit.

"Now?" she asked.

"Now," he confirmed, and both of them jumped in, muddy water splashing up to Jim's knees and mid-thigh on Corinne.

"Eeeewwww!" she squealed, as the cold mud pushed between her toes. Jim laughed and started stomping around like he was in a vat of grapes in an old Lucy show. Corinne giggled and followed him, gingerly at first, then picking up speed.

"What are we doing?" she gasped, laughing and trying to keep her balance.

"Making bricks, of course," Jim replied, industriously squishing his way around the pit. "Adobe bricks."

"And you couldn't just go to Home Depot, why?"

"Home Depot doesn't have adobe bricks. Besides, this is more fun."

She had to agree. After more stomping, she asked him what he planned to do with the bricks.

"We're going to build an oven...a wood-fired oven for baking bread, pizza, stuff like that. We had one in our backyard when I was growing up. My mom made the best bread...So I thought it would be fun to have at camp."

Before she could respond, a voice at the edge of the pit demanded "Loo-ceee! You have some 'splaining to do!"

Cal looked up and laughed, spotting Patrick and 3 others gathered around. Sean gazed longingly at the mud, while Dara and Caroline shook their heads, bemused. Toby ran up and joined them, followed closely by Jake and Jim.

Sean couldn't stand it any longer. "Can I get in, too?" he asked eagerly.

Cal made a show of counting heads. "We can't fit everyone, but we can take turns. I'll hop out and add some straw, and you guys keep mixing.

Sean crowed happily, sat down and yanked off his shoes before jumping into the middle of the pit.

"I can see where this is going," Corinne commented dryly. "I am outta here!" She stepped carefully out of the hole, legs covered in near perfect knee high stockings of mud. "Go ahead, girls," she called out to Dara and Caroline across the pit. "It's a mud bath beauty treatment, Texas-style."

Both girls stepped back, and the boys pushed forward. "Ill have a go!" Jim called out. He cast off his flip-flops and jumped in beside Sean. Cal sprinkled handfuls of straw into the mix, and the boys stomped and hopped and squished.

Corinne rolled her eyes, grabbed the hose, and began scraping at the mud on her shins.

"What are we doing, anyway?" asked Sean breathlessly, jumping as high as he could and coming down again with a soft splat.

"Making an oven, of course!" Corinne answered before Cal could open his mouth. Pink skin was showing through in spots, and she rubbed more vigorously.

Cal snorted, then pointed at the wooden forms Dara and Caroline were using as seats. We put the adobe in the forms and let them set up, then use the bricks to build an outdoor oven. I don't know if it will be done before this camp session is over. I hope so. You won't believe the way the bread tastes."

"Better than that cornbread?" Jake asked, disbelieving. He had special memories of the cornbread.

"Different," Cal replied diplomatically.

Jim hopped out of the pit, claiming "Enough fun for me," and Jake climbed in. Patrick stood by the girls, smirking at this brother, who had a gob of mud stuck to one eyebrow and a generous blob in his hair.

Jim dragged a small log over to Corinne and motioned to her to sit down. "Ill hold the hose, you scrub," he instructed. She sat down gratefully and began scraping again, while Jim let the water trickle over her legs.

"I think we need more power." He looked up at Patrick. "Would you mind opening up the spigot a bit?"

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a fireman!" Patrick replied, but he walked over and turned up the hose.

Cal let out a quick bark of laughter. "Isn't Dr. McCoy before your time?"

Sean answered for his brother. "Did I mention he's a _Star Trek_ geek, too? Not _Star Wars_ , Star _Trek_!"

"Me, too!" grinned Cal.

Corinne glanced surreptitiously at Jim through her lashes. His streaky brown-blonde head was bent over her feet as he squirted water at a stubborn patch of mud. She forgot the shin she was working on, finding an odd pleasure in watching him. Jim glanced up, caught her staring, and suddenly noticed that her eyes were the same color as the ocean off Isla Mujeres.Corinne turned a little red, then her expression changed to one of surprise and she leaped up from the log. Jim fell back, not certain what happened, then noticed he had allowed the hose to trail up from her feet into her lap. He threw the hose down and grabbed Corinne by her elbows.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to...that is, I wasn't paying attention...I'm really sorry!" he managed, feeling like a right idiot.

Corinne nodded, no longer feeling the clammy shorts, her attention distracted by his hands on her arms. "It's OK...it's, it's just water," she stammered.

"I promise if you sit down again, I'll finish the job properly without getting more than your legs and feet wet," he said, recovering himself. She nodded again and he lowered her to the log, releasing her arms and picking up the hose again. Corinne began to smile. This is a good day! she thought.

"That is looking just perfect!" Cal called out, gesturing at the mud. Jake hopped out and stood by Jim, waiting for the hose. Sean climbed out, too, his attention on Jake's face instead of his own mud-soaked body. Jake was wearing a big, easy grin and Sean barely recognized him. Was that all it took to change him into a human being, a little mud stomping? he wondered. He swung his head around to Patrick to see if he had noticed, too.

Patrick appeared to be entertaining Dara and Caroline with the crew of the Enterprise. Sean heard snatches of what sounded like Scotty and Captain Kirk arguing about the warp core.

Patrick sensed his twin's eyes on him and looked across the pit. Sean jerked his head in Jake's direction, and Patrick turned his attention to Jake. He watched Jake for a few seconds, then looked back at Sean. An eyebrow rose steeply and Sean saw him mouth one word, "Fascinating".

Sean bobbed his head in agreement. Impatiently waiting for the hose, he gave Jim a friendly tap on the shoulder. "I think she's clean, man," he commented, looking at Corinne's shiny pink legs and feet.

"Oh, right...I'll...I'll get your shoes...Don't move," Jim said, moving off to search for them.

Jake and Sean stared after Jim, then both focused on Corinne, still sitting on the log. A dull red crept up her neck and cheeks. "What?' she blustered.

They shrugged, with identical "I'm not going there" expressions. Ignoring Corinne, Jake picked up the hose and aimed a stream at his muddy legs. He glanced briefly at Sean. "You're going to need more than this hose," he noted.

Sean felt a slow trickle of mud running down his face. He leaned forward and a large glob fell out of his hair onto his foot with a wet splat. "Uh-huh" he agreed. "Maybe I'll get the worst parts off now, then hit the shower."

Jake finished up and handed the hose silently to Sean.

"Are you sure none of you want a turn?" Cal asked Patrick and the girls. All three nodded. "OK. I'm going to fill the forms with this batch, then I'll probably do another tomorrow. I'm guessing it will take three or four batches to get enough bricks."

Sean looked at the forms laid out, waiting to be filled with mud. "Do you need help? I'm still dirty," he gestured at his filthy clothes.

"Thanks a lot, but no, I can take it from here. If any of you have time tomorrow and want to do it again, you're more than welcome to come back."

There was a battered wheelbarrow near the pit, and Cal moved it closer before grabbing a shovel and beginning to fill it with mud from the pit. Sean wandered back toward his cabin, Dara and Caroline headed for the lodge, and Corinne struggled to get her wet feet into her Converse. Jim sat down on the log to work on his own legs, and Jake watched Cal with interest.

He moved mud repeatedly from the pit to the wheelbarrow in smooth motions. In no time, the wheelbarrow was full. Cal stepped out of the pit and wheeled the heavy load over to the forms.

Jim got up and retrieved his flipflops, gave his feet a final squirt, then turned off the hose. "Sure you don't want some help with that?" he called out.

"Nah, I got it. This part goes pretty fast. Thanks, though." Cal hefted a good size shovelful and dumped it into one of the forms. A couple more and the form was full. He shook the form to settle the mud, used a 2x4 to level it off, then started on the next form.

As Patrick, Jim, and Corinne began to walk away, Cal called out "Hey, if you want some more fun tomorrow, I'll probably get started around 9 o'clock."

"Count me in," Corinne responded.

"Me, too," said Jim.

"Why not?" Patrick chimed in. "I do a sweet Lucy impression."

"That I'd like to hear," Cal said dryly. Rocky trotted up to him, deciding it was now safe to venture near the pit "How about you, Rock? We could do a little Grauman's Chinese Theatre and put your paw prints in adobe instead of cement."

Rocky shook his head, ears flapping together slowly at first, building to a staccato rush of sound like a prop plane starting up.

"I guess that's a No."

Chapter 17

Strange Magic

Toby looked down at his duffle bag, trying to decide whether or not he should bring his pecan wand to the Magic class that afternoon. No, he thought, I'll check out the class first. I can always bring it next time, if I need it. Zipping up his duffle, he headed out the door.

Dara caught up with him just as he was about to go into the lodge. "Phew, made it!" she gasped. "I started off with swimming this morning, then watched Cal make adobe bricks, hiked with Caroline, her brother, and one of the counselors, Lauren, had a picnic lunch by this stream and there were these really strange looking round seed pod things, came back and took a quick shower so I could make it here," she finished, taking a big gulp of air.

Toby tried to follow all of it, but got stuck on adobe bricks. "Adobe bricks?" he questioned.

"Yeah, he's making an oven," Dara explained

Toby continued to stare at her, then finally said "An oven."

"Oh, I guess it does sound funny. Cal said if you bake bread and stuff in an oven made out of adobe, it tastes really good. Sooo, he's making bricks and then he's going to build an oven."

He tried to picture what this oven might look like, but all he could think of was his mom's sleek stainless steel model. It made pretty good bread, he thought.

They went inside and saw about a dozen kids scattered around the tables. There were short stacks of blank paper and cups of pencils. Ron was there, his head bent close to Noreen's to hear what she said. He nodded once and checked his watch.

"OK, let's get started," he called out briskly. "This session is called 'Real World Magic'. As someone already explained, we're not going to teach you how to do magic tricks." He paused and scanned each face in the room. "The purpose of this session is to introduce you to a...a method for getting what you want in life. Arthur C. Clarke, a great science fiction writer, said, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' Say you were somehow transported back in time to the year 1450. If you told people about cars, planes, computers, televisions, they would not believe you. Such things would be inconceivable. If you happened to have your iPod and you let someone listen to music, what do you think they'd think?"

"Magic!" someone called out. "Or a miracle."

"And you'd be burned at the stake!" someone else commented.

"Only if it was country western music," another boy said, grinning at Ron.

Ron clutched his chest in mock pain. "That really hurts, man," he complained, pointedly resettling his Brad Paisley concert ball cap.

"Let's define some terms so we're all talking about the same thing. "Does anyone have a definition for technology?"

There were some smirks. A girl raised her hand and Ron pointed at her. "It's computers and stuff. Cell phones, wi-fi..."

"Electronics are one form of technology," Ron agreed, "one that a lot of people think of when they hear the word. Here's another definition." He picked up a marker and wrote the word "technology" on a flip chart that stood in the front of the room, followed by a definition.

"The specific methods, materials, and devices used to solve practical problems." _(Free Online Dictionary)_ Ron read out loud.

"Does anyone remember how we defined magic, when Noreen was talking after dinner the first night you got here?"

No one responded and Ron went on. "Any agency that works with wonderful effect."

"Wonderful effects," he repeated. "Miracles. A miracle can mean something supernatural, beyond the laws of nature. Another definition is "any amazing or wonderful occurrence." ( _Free Online Dictionary_ )

"For our purposes today, technology means the knowledge and methods used to bring something about, magic means something that brings about wonderful effects, and miracle means an amazing and wonderful occurrence." He turned over a new page on the chart and quickly wrote the shortened definitions.

"Got it, everybody?" Heads nodded.

"The first thing we have to start with is You, with a capital 'Y'. You, with the help of others in your life, can bring about what you want," he stated. " _You_ put energy in the games you want to play. _You_ direct your mind and your body so they support you in making things happen, in creating magic."

Ron walked slowly across the room, turned, and paced back. He was surprised and glad to have spotted Jake sitting next to Jim at the back table. "This may not make much sense to you yet, but stick with me." he continued. He stopped and spread his hands wide.

"When you decide on something you truly want and you takes steps to make it happen, something...miraculous occurs, something magical." He smiled. "Imagine that what you want is to go to Disneyland. You've never been, your friends have told you about it, you think your parents should have taken you when you were 5, much less 15. You want this very much and you intend to get it. You dream of it, see yourself walking into the Haunted Mansion, stepping into a boat at Pirates of the Caribbean, screaming down the Splash Mountain chute."

There were reminiscent smiles on more than a few faces. "How? How is this going to happen? You ask yourself what you can do. You think about everything that would need to happen in order for you to get to Disneyland and you come up with a plan."

Ron gazed down at a boy sitting in front. "What's something you could do?" he asked.

"Save your allowance for about 5 years," the boy responded dryly.

"Get a job, mow lawns or something," someone else called out.

"Earn money, yeah," Ron agreed. "What about telling your parents what you intend to do? What about telling other people what you want to do?"

Dara had been listening with a puzzled frown, but she suddenly thought of Shelley. "How about a treasure map?" she offered tentatively.

Ron pointed at her and clapped his hands once. "Yes, that's perfect! A treasure map makes your intention more real, and helps others to know it, too. The funny thing is...the magical thing is, that when you intend to have something happen, and you let others know about it, and you start working toward it yourself...things start happening, things fall into place to help you. Great Aunt Susie has a free plane ticket that she won't be able to use before it expires, and she offers it to you. Out of the blue, your next door neighbor says he's decided his paint looks pretty shabby and he wonders if you'll help him paint his house; he figures it would cost him about $2000 to hire the whole thing done, but if you help him, he'll give you $500. Your dad thought his yearly convention would be in Dallas this year, but it's been changed to Los Angeles. He's thinking about combining his business trip with a family vacation."

"Isn't that just coincidence? Lucky, good timing, but coincidence?" Toby asked.

"Just by chance? A happy accident?" Ron suggested. "You could look at it that way. Here's another way...when you put your intention out there, when you decided to go for it and made plans to help make it happen, you set into motion forces seen and unseen. These forces line up to help you, with things working together in the right direction, pushing you forward. That's the miraculous part. I've seen it happen time and time again. It's nothing you have to believe in; you can have the experience of it whether you think things can happen that way or not."

He had been walking up and down the room, but he stopped in front of Toby and gazed down at him. "The Roman philosopher Seneca said "Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity"."

Ron started across to the other side of the room. "Instead of Disneyland, let's look at something different. What about love? Money? Friends? Happiness? Helping others? A lot of people share those wants. Anyone here want those things?"

Everyone nodded. "This is an opportunity for you to examine what you want, to focus on it and think about your intention. Here's another definition for you," he said. Turning and picking up the marker again, he wrote "intention: An aim that guides action; an objective." (Free Online Dictionary)

Ron paused and smiled. "Grab a piece of paper and a pencil. Start thinking about what you might want and see what comes up for you. When something seems right, write it down. Put into words your intention, your goal. Maybe it's "I intend to make friends wherever I go." If that's what you really want, think about what would need to happen to make that come true."

He smiled. "Great Aunt Susie is not going to give you a free ticket for making friends. But you've noticed that she has a ton of friends. Sure, she's a lot older than you, but she always seems to find people to talk with and laugh with wherever she goes. Does anyone know someone like that?"

Dara raised her hand and Ron called her name. "I have a friend back home," she shared. "If we're standing in line at the movies, she talks to the people standing next to us. If we're watching a swim meet, she jokes around with people sitting in the stands. She just...she somehow just joins in," she finished.

"I would describe that trait as having a high level of friendliness. Does that make sense to you?" he asked the room in general.

Once again, heads nodded. "If you want to make friends and you know someone like Great Aunt Susie or Dara's friend, what could you do?"

"See what they do and then try it yourself?" someone offered.

"Ask them, so you could learn what to do," someone else called out.

"Good" said Ron. "What else could you do to get this skill of making friends wherever you go?"

No one responded. "How do people make friends with you?"

"Talk to me. Ask me to go do stuff with them. Act like they want to be with me," Jim offered.

"Yes. In other words, they are friendly with you. So you come up with some specific ideas of things you can do to get what you want. And you do those things. But while you are doing those things, something else is happening. It's what I was talking about before. Seemingly magical things happen that support you in your goal. The new kid sits next to you at lunch, and you ask him if he plays any sports. He says he was on the lacrosse team at his last school and he hopes your school has a lacrosse team, too. You are one of the best middies on the team, and you invite him to come to practice...or, you go to the movies with friends and there's an empty seat next to you. Someone needs the extra seat farther down the row, so you and your friends get up and everybody moves down one seat. This puts you right next to a girl, who smiles at you as you sit down. You offer her some popcorn and start up a conversation...When you decide on a course, make plans on how to achieve it, and open yourself up to it, things start happening to help out."

"I'd like you to think about something you want or something you'd like to see happen, and write it down," Ron instructed. "Then think about what needs to be done, what needs to happen in order to get it. One caveat...you can't make another person feel a certain way or do something they don't want to do. People are responsible for themselves and they make choices for themselves. You can only make choices for you...Also, if what you want is to be 6'4" and your parents are both jockey-size, well, let's just say it's unlikely you'll be able to get what you want."

There was laughter around the room. Kids began reaching for paper and passing around the pencil cups.

Jake stared down at his blank page, unmoving. Jim was scribbling beside him, apparently having no trouble thinking up what he wanted. Jake didn't hear Ron come up behind him until a large hand closed on his shoulder. He jumped and turned quickly to find Ron smiling down at him.

"What's the first thing you thought of, Jake?" he asked.

Jake grimaced. "Nothing, really," he answered.

"Nothing at all, or nothing you really want?" Ron prompted.

Jake was silent for a minute. "OK, not nothing, but something you said won't work...like getting someone to do something," he said gloomily.

"Well, if you can't control someone else, you can still control yourself. Can you approach whatever it is from that angle? From how you'd like to feel about it?" Ron asked.

Frowning, Jake continued to stare at his paper, then finally looked at Ron again. "It's...I guess I told you about my dad already..."

Ron nodded. "I remember."

"I'd like it if he'd be a real dad, you know, want to do things with me, show he even cares about me...I guess I'm never going to get that from him. But I can't stop wanting it." A large sigh escaped him. "Why couldn't he be a normal dad?"

"I don't know. That's up to him, " Ron replied. "People handle things differently, in ways that make sense or not, that make life easier or harder...all kinds of ways. The choices your dad has made likely have nothing to do with you; it sounds like he's dealing, or not dealing, with his own stuff. I mean that _his_ problems are not yours. You can't make him act like a loving father. So, what can you do?"

Jake shrugged fatalistically.

"No, really, what can you do about it? Think about something that is in your power to do," Ron encouraged. "Write down anything that comes to mind, and I'll be back in a bit."

Ron moved a step or two over to Jim, asking "What did you come up with?" Jake tuned them both out, continuing to stare at his paper.

Toby huffed audibly, an uncharacteristic frown wrinkling his brow.

Dara peered at him with her head tilted to one side, one elfin eyebrow soaring upward in mute question.

He finally unclamped his lips. "This," he hissed emphatically, "is not magic!"

On the other side of Dara, Caroline leaned forward and hissed back.

"Just because it doesn't involve wand-waving, doesn't mean it can't work. I know you guys like fantasy,..." she pointed her chin at Dara to include her, too, "but, let's face it, there is no Hogwarts, no hobbits or elves, and no Easter Bunny, either."

A dull red flushed Toby's face. "You call _this_ scientific?" he demanded, jabbing his pencil at the blank sheet in front of him.

Caroline shook her head. "Of course not, but that doesn't mean there isn't something to it. If it works, would you call it magic? Or maybe it would just seem like magic. Maybe that's all magic is anyway, stuff that seems like magic, but it's just the way things work."

Toby opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut.

He stared at Caroline, unblinking, until Dara waved fingers in front of his face.

"Earth to Toby," she called softly, a bemused smile tugging her lips.

Toby transferred his gaze to her, blinked, nodded once, then immediately started writing. Dara looked at Caroline, who only shrugged. Both girls turned their attention to their papers.

Jake didn't understand it, didn't believe it, but he felt great looking at the five things he'd written on his paper. They were all so exactly right. I am totally pumped about this! he thought to himself, with some unfamiliar emotion that might be joy. Jim had slapped him on the back after reading it, a wide grin splitting his face. Ron came over and Jake nearly shoved the paper up his nose, so eager was he for Ron to see.

Ron read each sentence carefully and in silence. When he was done, he looked up straight into Jake's eyes, seeing no trace of surliness or wariness, only a beaming sense of satisfaction. Ron didn't say a word, just nodded his head once, and pulled Jake into a tight bear hug. Jake didn't resist.

Chapter 18

Treasure

If Jim had given her bogus information, she was going to make him pay. She'd wait until he was in the mud pit tomorrow and make sure more than his legs got muddied, Corinne vowed to herself. He promised her that this Dream Working class would have nothing to do with staring at each other or any other stupid form of torture they could think up. The counselor named Shelley was explaining what they were going to do, and Corinne reluctantly tuned in again.

Treasure map, huh? Corinne thought. Could be worse. She didn't see what good it would do, but she was willing to give it a shot. At first, she thought of having so much money she could go shopping whenever she wanted, buy all the funky clothes she wanted. Then it was having a room to herself, one she didn't have to share with her little sister. She loved the little creep, but still...That would be awesome! Her mind flicked from one image to the next to the next, and she couldn't decide.

Suddenly, the film in her head seemed to roll to a stop, landing on an unwelcome picture. She saw herself staring down at her phone, the text message from her "friend", Brandy, clearly visible on the screen.

"U R such a btch! Miranda told me wat U said about Cole & me. Im going to tell everyone about yr slutty mom!"

Corinne felt sick all over again. She had said nothing to Miranda. Miranda was evil and got some sort of twisted fun out of making people mad at each other. Brandy knew this, but still believed her. Corinne had been so careful to hide the truth about her mother leaving them, and then Brandy spread it all over the school, with Miranda's help, she was sure. God, she couldn't stand the drama anymore! Everyone whispering, spreading rumors and half-truths, texts flying, nasty MySpace postings...she hated school!

"What are you thinking, Corinne?" Shelley broke in on her thoughts. Corinne started and glanced down before quickly summoning up a cheeky grin. She looked up at Shelley. "Oh, you know, the usual, mansion in Beverly Hills, red carpet interviews, my Oscar acceptance speech..."

Shelley smiled and raised both eyebrows. "Really? I didn't figure you for a fame and fortune kinda girl."

Corinne's grin faded. "What kind of girl did you figure me for?" she asked with unusual seriousness, the answer suddenly very important to her.

Shelley considered carefully. "Someone who makes her own path without worrying too much about what other people think. Someone who cares more deeply than she lets on about the important things in life."

Without warning, Corinne's eyes began to water. She turned her head away hastily and looked everywhere she could except at Shelley.

"If what you want is the red carpet and being a great actress, you go for it!" Shelley told her. "If it's something else, I'm behind you on that, too." She rubbed Corinne's back briefly, and moved to the next table, leaving Corinne alone with her thoughts.

"Wait up!" Caroline panted, grunting as she pulled herself up to the base of the giant boulder.

"Here," she heard a voice above her and looked up to see Drew holding his hand down to her. Out of breath, she nodded her thanks and grabbed his hand.

Drew pulled her up easily, then reached down again to help Dara. As tall as she was, it would have been simple for her to scramble up. Dara's Rules: if a cute guy wants to help you and it involves holding his hand, go ahead and let him. She smiled when she was standing next to Drew on top of the boulder, then noticed that Caroline had disappeared.

"Where'd she go?" she asked, looking all around.

"I'm right here," she heard Caroline's voice.

Drew started to point in the direction of Caroline's voice and noticed that he hadn't let go of Dara's hand. She seemed to notice at the same time, but instead of drawing her hand away, she smiled shyly at him.

Drew grinned, gave her hand a quick squeeze, and pulled her over to a cleft in the rock that was partially screened by thick brush. They peered down and saw Caroline crouched in a flat, sandy area that ran between the split rock and disappeared into a thicket.

"This is so cool! Look at him!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Drew's eyes widened as he followed her pointing finger, and he let out a little whoop and stepped carefully beside her. "Dara, come look!" he invited eagerly. "Sarah's going to love this!"

"Who's Sarah?" Dara and Caroline demanded at the same time.

Drew didn't answer, intent on the sand at his feet.

"Drew?" Caroline prompted, without much patience.

"What?"

"Sarah?"

He looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh. She's a girl I met on a horseback ride. She likes lizards."

Caroline looked up at Dara and shrugged. Boys.

Dara stepped down into the cleft and bent over to see what had caught their attention. "Oh, it's a lizard", she said, not understanding why this discovery was such a big deal.

"Not just any lizard," Drew explained. "It's a horny toad. I didn't know they even lived in Texas." He reached out a finger toward the spiny tail, and the lizard shuffled a few inches away with surprising speed.

"He looks kind of like a baby bearded dragon," Caroline mused. "You know, Drew...that lizard Taylor has."

Drew nodded, not taking his eyes off the horny toad.

"He's so cute!" Caroline squealed.

Dara looked again, but failed to see the cuteness factor. The lizard had a broad head with short spines fringing the back, a roundish body, and skinny little claws on his little lizard feet.

"I want to hold him!" Caroline said, moving to block the lizard's path. At the same time, Drew reached out and grabbed the lizard gently, but swiftly behind the neck, lifting him onto his palm. He stroked the rough back and the horny toad tilted his head, fixing Drew with a curious black eye.

Caroline held out her hand and Drew carefully slid the lizard off onto her palm. She flipped him on his back and immediately began stroking his tummy. The horny toad lay still, either playing dead in terror or enjoying having his belly rubbed.

Caroline smiled delightedly. "Do you want to hold him, Dara?"

"Uh, that's OK...I'm good."

Caroline set him down on the sand on all fours. The horny toad didn't move for a second or two, then scurried off into the thicket and was gone.

Drew stood up, brushing his hands together. "Come on. I don't think it's much farther."

He was taking them to the meadow with the big rock. His sketchpad was in his backpack and he planned to draw while the girls explored the creek.

They walked for another 15 minutes, climbing over rocks and winding through brush, and then they were among trees. The air was refreshingly cool as they passed from sunlight into shade, and they stopped for another water break before continuing.

Drew led them on, and Caroline was just about to ask how much farther when there was a break in the trees and she glimpsed the meadow ahead. She and Dara walked quickly forward.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Dara breathed. "Look at the flowers!"

There were even more wild flowers than when Drew had been there before. Blues, yellows, and reds dotted the meadow and contrasted with the green of the grass and trees. A large flat rock lay roughly in the middle of the meadow, and it was this that seemed to pull Drew forward. He walked halfway around it, stopped and paced back the way he had come. Setting his backpack down in the grass, he reached in and grabbed his sketchbook and pencils.

Caroline and Dara watched him, then Caroline said "Let's go explore. Once he starts drawing, he won't even notice we're gone." They saw what appeared to be a faint path off to one side, and started down it, chatting happily about picking some flowers on the way home.

When they came back from the creek sometime later, they both looked hot and Caroline was carrying a bois d'arc seedpod. They found their backpacks in the shade, grabbed their water bottles, and drank thirstily.

Drew was seated under a nearby tree, his pad in his lap, but he wasn't drawing. The girls approached him, and Caroline held her hand out for his sketchpad. She opened the cover and held it so Dara could see, too. Flipping over sketches she had seen before, Caroline stopped on the first one of the meadow. It was just the rock, without any of the surrounding trees or view. There were clumps of cerulean blue flowers scattered around the base. You could almost see them bending slightly in a light breeze. The next page showed the trees and a glimpse of rolling hills, and the page after that, a full view of the hills leading down and away from the meadow. None of the sketches was complete, but together they gave a panoramic view of the meadow, and when the lines had been filled in and the colors completed, they would make a lovely series.

Dara, looking over Caroline's shoulder, shook her head. "It's beautiful. And so real! I don't understand how you make it look so real."

"I've been drawing ever since I can remember," Drew mused. "I know I was pretty bad at first, because my parents saved a bunch of my artwork from when I was little. They..."

"You were _never_ bad," interrupted Caroline. "Even your crayon scribbles were impressive," she commented disgustedly.

"Yeah, but that's only compared to..." he broke off, realizing that what he'd been about to say was hardly complimentary.

It didn't matter. Caroline got it anyway.

"Ow!" Drew said indignantly when the seedpod bounced off his head.

"Jerk!" Caroline snorted, but she was laughing, too, so he figured he was forgiven. "At least I can run an experiment without setting anything on fire!"

"Hey, that wasn't my fault!"

Caroline turned to Dara. "These creative types don't like to follow instructions. He got "creative" with some chemicals, caused a small explosion, melted through some wires, and shorted out a lamp. If the girl next to him hadn't grabbed the fire extinguisher, he probably would have destroyed the science lab."

Dara laughed as Drew sputtered.

"When you told dad what you'd done, he laughed so hard he didn't even care when you told him how much the damage would cost. Do you remember?"

"Are you kidding? He said if I didn't want to follow in his footsteps...He's a scientist like brainiac here," he interjected for Dara's benefit. "...I could have just told him, I didn't need to burn down the school to get out of science lab," Drew said darkly.

"Your dad...laughed?" Dara asked incredulously.

"Yeah. He's got a good sense of humor. A little twisted, but good," Drew admitted sheepishly.

Dara swallowed. "If that had happened to me my dad would have...well, I don't even want to think about how mad he'd have been."

"Why?" Caroline asked, puzzled. "It was an accident. Besides, it was pretty funny," she glanced at Drew with laughing eyes. "He burned off this fringe of hair above his ear on one side," she reminisced, reaching over as if to fluff up his hair, but Drew pulled away quickly. "Mom wanted him to let her shave the other side so he could have a fauxhawk, but he wouldn't go for it."

Drew gave her the puke eye.

Dara stared at them as if they were alien beings.

"What? What'd we say?" Drew asked, puzzled

"Well, it's hard to explain. My parents...my parents don't joke around like that. I mean, I haven't heard my mom laugh in I don't know how long. My dad laughs, but he...well, it's usually not funny. It's more...mean. Scary sometimes, too."

Drew and Caroline frowned at her. "You mean he...Dara, does he...does he hit?" Caroline asked in a hushed voice.

"No, no, he never hits, but he's...it's like he's mad all the time and it makes him mean to everybody. He's rude to people in stores and when we go out to eat, like store clerks and waitresses. It's so embarrassing. My friends are scared of him and they don't like to come over to my house, he doesn't get along with the neighbors, and he's so mean to my mom." Tears filled her eyes, and bottled up pain poured out of her mouth. "He's her husband, he's supposed to love her, but he puts her down, yells at her, treats her like she's stupid, and she's _not_ stupid! And she! She just takes it! She stands by and...and...takes it," she trailed off, sniffing. Dara looked down at her hands, fingers twisted in her lap. "She doesn't say anything when he yells at me, either," she added in a small voice.

Caroline glanced at Drew, but he didn't seem to know what to say. She looked back at Dara, worry puckering her brow. "It...it must be pretty miserable, living like that. I mean, not happy."

"No," Dara agreed hollowly. "Not happy." She paused, sighing. "It's like I never get to relax. I'm always worried he's going to start yelling, or say awful things to my mom, and then I get so mad at him! And _she_ never stands up to him, and then I get mad at _her_!"

"That sucks!" Drew said forcefully, then winced at the inadequacy of what he'd said, but Dara nodded her head vigorously.

"Totally," she agreed.

There was an uneasy silence.

"Totally suckish!" Caroline finally said, trying for a lighter note.

"Uh huh. It bites the big one," Drew added, catching on.

Not to be outdone, Caroline yelled "Phat-phree!"

Dara smiled ruefully. "Yup, it really blows," she said with finality, surprising Drew so much he forgot what he'd been about to say next.

Caroline rocked back on her heels and grinned. "What did you expect her to say, "Oh, bumsey!?"

Her face a little red, Dara looked at Drew with a crooked smile. "See, my family never jokes like this. I wish they did, but I don't think that's ever going to change. Maybe you guys could email me every once in awhile and remind me that laughing is OK," she said half-joking.

Drew thought it was one of the saddest things he'd ever heard. He determined to do just as she asked. She wouldn't be left alone when she was back home; there was the computer, texting, whatever it took. He didn't tell her, but instead asked if her parents were coming during the final week of camp.

"I think so, unless my dad's too busy. He'll probably want to grill the counselors to find out if I swam everyday." She started to say more, then shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together. Finally, she added "I like to swim and I want to swim. But it's like the fun's been sucked out of it 'cause there's so much pressure on me. I can deal with the competition. That doesn't bother me. But my dad keeps on me all the time and it seems like whatever I do, it's never good enough, not fast enough, didn't work hard enough..."

Caroline raised one eyebrow. "I'm beginning not to like your dad."

Dara snorted. "Yeah, well, join the club. None of my friends like him. He's not exactly, um, likeable."

"Yeah, we got that," said Drew wryly. Caroline handed him his sketchbook and he shoved it into his backpack. Dara walked over to where the seedpod had rolled, picked it up and tossed it to Caroline.

Caroline flipped it from one hand to the other and back.

"You better not hit me with that thing again, Dork!" Drew warned in a mock threatening voice.

Caroline rounded on him. "DON'T call me Dork! I am NOT a Dork!"

Drew held up both hands, his eyes wide. "Whoa, where'd that come from? Hey, I don't mean anything by it, it's just a nickname."

Caroline drew in an audible breath through her nostrils. "It is not a nickname. Calling me Carly Ann is a nickname. Calling me Dork is...mean," she finished.

"Geez, Caroline, why didn't you tell me this like 5 years ago? I didn't know...I don't mean to be mean."

"I know you don't, but it feels that way to me anyway. Don't call me that again... I don't like it," she added unnecessarily.

Drew nodded. "My bad, I'm sorry." He looked down at his sometimes annoying, sometimes funny little sister, and sighed. "So, Carly Ann, how about you and Dara and me go back to camp and get some real food? We still have time to raid the kitchen before dinner."

Caroline smiled when Drew used his old nickname for her. The family story went that when she was born, Drew had trouble saying her name and it came out more like "Carly Ann". He had also said "hopgrasser" for grasshopper, and "cob on the corn". Calling her Carly Ann had stuck, but he hadn't used it in a long time, and she felt warm hearing it again. She didn't always get along with Drew, but they were surprisingly tight for siblings. She looked up to him in more ways than one, not that she'd tell him that. No more Dork, she thought. That made her feel good, too.

Corinne kicked off her flip-flops and peered down into the pit. "You ready for me?" she asked Cal, up to his knees in mud. She noticed Jim, too, but was unaccountably shy about saying anything to him.

"Yeah, I already did all the hard work, so I guess you can come play."

"Hey, what about me?" Jim said indignantly. "That was me shoveling just next to you."

"Oh, yeah." Cal nodded. "OK, you're off the hook. But this one," he pointed at Corinne, "she has to do double for showing up fashionably late."

"You said 'around 9 o'clock'. If I show up at twenty after, that's not late. I can't help it if you two morning people are out here shoveling at the crack of dawn, when most sensible people are still in bed."

"Good thing you amuse me," Cal commented. "Otherwise, I'd have to enact the usual camp punishment."

Corinne grinned at the first part of his statement, then the grin faded.

"In fact, I think the punishment is called for anyway, just 'cause I feel like it."

"Oh, no, not that!" Jim cried in mock horror. "Have mercy, mate!"

Corinne looked suspiciously from one to the other.

"Yup, I don't want to have to do this, but I think the situation calls for it. And maybe she'll think twice about being tardy the next time."

"I was NOT tardy!" Corinne declared. "I..."

"OK, here comes the punishment. I think three should do it, don't you?" he asked Jim.

"Cruel," replied Jim shaking his head. He faked looking at a wristwatch that didn't exist. "Would you look at the time? I've got to be going. I'll come back when..."

"Not so fast. You have to contribute, too, since you were the other injured party."

"Me? But I don't know any..."

"I'll go first and give you time to think of something. If you can't, I'll have to pick up the slack."

Corinne watched them with a face that clearly said they were nuts.

"Maybe this will teach you a lesson," he admonished sternly. "Here goes – What do Eskimos get from sitting on the ice too long?"

"That's it? You're telling me jokes for punishment?" She slapped her forehead. "Wait a minute, what am I saying? Don't they have laws against child abuse in this state?"

Cal's expression didn't change. "What do Eskimos get from sitting on the ice too long?" he repeated with exaggerated patience.

Corinne rolled her eyes. 'I don't know," she said in a sing-song voice. "What _do_ Eskimos get from sitting on the ice too long?"

"Polaroids."

She stared at him for a few seconds, then groaned. "That is so lame! Have you no pride?"

Cal held up two fingers. "Not done. Jim, are you ready?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know any, really."

Cal sighed. OK, I'll give you an Australian one, so you're more comfortable." Looking highly skeptical, Jim leaned forward while Cal whispered in his ear.

"That's not funny," he said flatly, when Cal finished.

"Of course not. I'm not wasting my best stuff on Ms. Hard Case, there."

"Must I?"

"You must."

Jim turned toward Corinne. "Don't kill the messenger, OK?" He swallowed. "What do you call a boomerang that doesn't work?"

Corinne looked bored. "I give. What?"

Jim winced. "A stick."

Corinne was silent. She shook her head. "That one doesn't even deserve a comment."

Unfazed, Cal waved three fingers in front of her face. "What do you call cheese that isn't yours?" He waited, but she just looked at him expectantly. "Nacho cheese."

Her lips twitched and she turned half around so he wouldn't see.

Cal smiled at her back. "Just remember, there's more where they came from."

She turned back around. "Yes, sir, I'm scared straight now."

"Good. You ready to hop in here?"

Corinne nodded. Cal climbed out and she jumped in, enjoying the cool mud under her feet and splashing up her calves. She and Jim started squishing around the pit, while Cal took the forms off bricks that had already dried.

"How did it go at Dream Working class?" he asked her. Jim hadn't seen her at dinner the night before. He and Jake had gone with Ron and a few other campers on an evening hike, and they'd eaten late when they got back.

"Oh, well, um, you were right. They didn't make me do anything awful. I just did one of those treasure map things," she said airily.

"And?"

"And, it was good. No problem." She squished around a little faster, all of her attention apparently on the muddy water.

"And?" Jim asked again.

"And what?" She pretended not to understand.

"If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. But I'd like to hear about your treasure map."

Corinne risked a glance at him and thought he looked far too serious and far too cute. She slowed down. It was so quiet. She didn't hear Cal banging forms together, or the shouts of kids playing volleyball, or the squirrel in the nearby tree chattering fiercely at Rocky. She looked up at Jim, standing so straight and solid, so patient. At that moment she felt like she could tell him any thing. But that would be really dumb, she thought. Look where it got her before. You can't trust people, the little voice in her head warned her. They leave, they lie, they tell...

Jim's mouth quirked up at one corner. "I can hear the motors whirring from here."

Corinne was too nervous to smile. Her gut told her to trust him, and she decided to plunge ahead. "I made a treasure map, like I said." She stopped.

"Uh huh," Jim said encouragingly.

"I'm not sure I even did it right. Shelley said so, but she might have said it just to be nice."

"Doubtful."

"Huh?"

"I mean it's unlikely Shelley said anything just to be nice. I know her. She wouldn't consider lying being nice."

"Oh. Well. I didn't do my map on something I want to be when I'm older or some _thing_ I want. It was just...just me. Things I like to do, stuff that makes me laugh, what's important to me."

He nodded. "What did Shelley say?"

She felt tears well up, and shook her head furiously. "What is it about this place?" she demanded. "I haven't cried this much since I was 5, and I _hate_ crying!"

Jim looked at her with amused sympathy, but said nothing and didn't move. He waited.

Corinne felt around for nonexistent tissues in a nonexistent pocket, then gave up, wiping her face on her sleeve. She glared at him, but still he said nothing.

"Where was I?" she finally asked.

"You were going to tell me what Shelley said."

"Oh, yeah." She felt her throat tighten again, but it was a little easier this time. "She said it looked like I found _me_ in my map." Then the tears came again, but she didn't fight them this time. A couple rolled down her cheeks and she sniffed, wiping them away with her hand. "She told me I seemed to spend a lot of time and energy pretending to _not_ be me, and she was glad to look at my map and see _me_ ...if that makes any sense to you at all."

He moved toward her, put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, then let go. She looked up at him, surprised.

"It make perfect sense to me. When I look at you, I see you. The you that's underneath the babbling, in-your-face stuff. It's a good act, but it's got holes, if someone's looking. I happen to look, that's all."

"Who are you?" she said, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under her. At least she was still standing. "How could you possibly know what I'm really like? You just met me!" she challenged.

He moved closer again, causing her breath to catch a little and her heart to beat faster. "I just do. I don't know the details or your stories, but I know a lot. You want me to prove it? You've a soft heart. I've seen you with Rocky and I've seen you with Teddy. You're flip and gruff with them, but very kind. You like your cabinmates a lot, but you're afraid to let them get close. You start babbling when you think you need to keep someone away. You have a wicked sense of humor, and being a bit twisted myself, I really appreciate that bit."

Corinne was breathing hard, but she didn't stop him.

"You tell lies to protect yourself, but you do it so badly it's a wonder any one is fooled." He thought about it. "In fact, they probably aren't. I see misery in your eyes and I'm sorry for what ever put it there," he continued, "and I see courage, as well."

Another tear rolled down her cheek, drawing a soft groan from him. Before she knew what was happening, he had cupped her face and kissed her softly on the lips. It was her first kiss, and later, when she was picturing it over and over again in her mind, she thought it couldn't have been better.

When he pulled back, she smiled mistily at him. "Thank you," she sighed.

Jim laughed. "For what I said or for the kiss?"

Corinne blushed. "Not sure," she mumbled. "No, that's not true. For both," she admitted, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

"Both were my pleasure."

"Do you have any idea how strange you are? People don't talk like you, you know. I don't even know if they think like that."

"I was raised...different, and I can't tell you how lucky I feel about it. I still have to deal with all the usual things kids do, but I look at it a little differently. It kind of takes some of the pressure off."

"I'm not sure I understand, but it sounds good."

"Hey, I'm not paying you two to stand around canoodling," Cal's voice startled her so much she nearly lost her footing.

"You're not paying us at all," Corinne shot back. "And whatever canoodling is, we weren't."

"I know canoodling when I see it," Cal retorted, winking at Jim.

"I've no idea what it is. I don't think we do it in Australia," he said.

Cal burst out laughing. "Look it up sometime, then tell me that again."

"If it means standing around talking, we're entitled to a break," Corinne said reasonably.

"One – you don't get a break after working 3 minutes, and two – it doesn't mean what you said. Why do people resist looking up words in the dictionary?" he demanded rhetorically.

Jim and Corinne started shmushing around the pit again, while Cal added a little more water. As he passed her, Jim leaned over and whispered "I'd really like to see your treasure map – the things that are important to you."

"After dinner," she agreed, feeling relieved and scared at the same time.

Chapter 19

Friends

The first week at camp had flown by, it was over halfway through the second week, and Dara had yet to crack _Brisingr_. She couldn't believe it! She'd waited and waited until she finally had the chance to sit down and enjoy it, and somehow she always found other things to do instead of reading. Swimming every morning, and she was starting to actually like it again...hikes, fun classes, picnics, horseback rides, campfires...she loved it! She'd written down some really good ideas in her writing notebook, too. Later, she'd be able to look at using some of them in her stories. Then there was Drew. He was so...so...she laughed. I'm a writer and I can't think of an adjective, she chided herself. Still, her happy sigh said it all.

A knock on the cabin door interrupted her thoughts. She pushed herself off the bunk and opened the door. Toby stood there smiling tentatively, his blue eyes fixed on hers a little anxiously. "I know you're probably busy," he rushed into speech, "but I was wondering if you wanted to go watch the twins play that game they were talking about...lacrosse?...if you're not busy, that is..." he trailed off.

Dara's slanted eyebrows drew down until they almost met. "What's wrong with you? I mean, why are you acting like this?"

Toby lifted his eyes from the ground and met Dara's. "Well, I thought maybe you'd be doing something with Caroline or maybe Drew, and you wouldn't have time...you wouldn't want to..." He stopped as a dull red flush crept up his ears.

Dara grabbed his wrist and stepped outside. There was an old porch swing hanging from the eaves on the shady side of the cabin, and she sat, pulling him down next to her. "Stupid! You think because I've been having fun with Caroline and Drew that I don't want to do anything with you anymore?"

Toby nodded miserably. "I know I'm only 11 and you guys are all older..."

"Yeah, and I get along better with you thanmost older kids," she cut him off. "You're smart, you like fantasy, you're never mean to people, and you're fun to be with."

His ears now painfully red, Toby managed to smile and look hopeful.

"Drew and Caroline both like you, too. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go see the game today, but I couldn't find you. In fact, it seems like you're the one who hasn't been around lately. Ever since that Magic class. The one where you wouldn't show me what you'd written?" She still felt a little hurt by that.

"I know. I went back to another Magic class session, after the one I went to with you. I was thinking about a lot of stuff."

He sat there silently.

"What did you come up with?" she prodded.

Instead of answering, Toby held up a finger. "Just a sec...I'll be right back." He jumped up off the swing, leaving Dara with her mouth open. When he reappeared, the swing was rocking slowly as Dara brushed her hair. The silvery blonde mass fell shining over her shoulders and down her back. Toby stopped running at the edge of the lawn, swallowed hard, and walked slowly to the swing, puffing a little.

Dara glanced up and saw that he carried something in his hand. It looked like a stick. She didn't say anything, waiting for him to speak.

"I guess you know that I was kind of mad about that class," he began and stopped, looking at her for confirmation.

Dara nodded her head emphatically. "Yeah, I got that impression."

Toby pressed his lips together and took a big breath. "I mean, I really wanted to learn about real magic and...it wasn't anything like that. I thought...well, this is going to sound really stupid, but I thought maybe it would teach stuff about real magic, like, um, making things move without touching them or even...even using a wand," he finished, embarrassed. He waited for Dara to laugh at him, but she didn't.

Her eyes wide, she said "Wouldn't it be cool if you could really do stuff like that? Make things fly? Fix things that get broken? Or, how about an invisibility cloak? I can think of lots of things I'd use that for!" she enthused.

Toby stared at her. "I thought you'd think I was the biggest geek ever." He shook his head. As if to prove to her how foolish he'd been, he waved his wand at her. "Look at this! I was trying to use it as a wand, and it's a stupid old piece of wood off a pecan tree!"

"Hmmm," Dara considered the stick seriously, taking it from him and turning it over in her hands. "So, what's inside it? Dragon heartstring? Unicorn hair?"

Toby continued to stare at her, then burst out laughing. She joined in, and Toby found he felt very much better.

The laughter tailed off, and Dara asked, "You wouldn't show me what you ended up writing in that class. I know it wasn't the kind of magic you wanted to hear about, but what did you do?"

He was silent for a beat. "Like I said, at first I was mad, but something Caroline said clicked in my head. I thought I'd give it a try their way, you know, what Ron said. I had to go away and think about it, then go back to another session of that class before I could get it all straight in my mind. I finally did."

"I'm listening," Dara said, as Toby sank down on to the swing.

"Well, you know what I did my treasure map on? Going to Australia Zoo?"

She nodded.

"I thought the map was fun, but I didn't really believe it. It was just...playing. Now, I've decided to put this kind of magic to the test." He sat down next to Dara, his hands busy drawing the stick through his palm again and again.

"I've decided I'm going to Australia next year! That's what I want to happen. I'm going to talk to my parents about it. I'll talk to other people, too, and try to figure out other stuff I can do. There's got to be a way! I wrote up some ideas, and added stuff to my treasure map. I'm going to do everything I can think of, and then see if it works!"

"Good for you!" a nearby voice said in accents that sounded like a little old lady from New York City. Toby and Dara both turned around, startled.

Patrick stood there grinning at them. "Hey, more power to you, dude! I'd like to go to Australia myself, especially after hearing Jim talk about it."

"Who was that?" Toby asked.

"Huh? Oh, you mean the voice?"

Toby nodded.

"From Big Fat Liar. Grandma? She thinks the guy in the dress is Amanda Bynes? I'm sorry, but that's just not possible! I mean, Amanda Bynes!" Patrick sighed theatrically and patted his chest over his heart.

Dara laughed.

"Drew sent me to get you guys. Sean and I are giving lacrosse lessons to anybody who's interested. Wanna come?"

"Have you ever heard of this game?" Jake asked Jim as they approached the field. It wasn't much of a field, just a large flat, grassy area that joined up with the baseball outfield.

"Yeah, but I've never seen it played. Football, er, soccer is much more popular in Australia. Rugby, too," Jim answered.

No one else was there yet. They stopped on the edge of the field. Jake stared down at the grass for a minute, and glanced sideways at Jim. "So, what's going on with you and that Corinne girl?" he asked offhandedly.

"That Corinne girl?" Jim repeated flatly.

"No offense, man. It just seems like...well, she talks so much and she's..."

Jim raised his eyebrows and Jake's voice petered out. "You don't know her, mate. She's not what you think." He snorted and shook his head. "She does a brilliant job of yabbering and being irritating, but if you can get her to drop the act, there's an excellent person in there." He smiled reminiscently. "I kissed her."

Jake's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He started laughing and punched Jim in the arm. "Well?"

"Can't wait to do it again!" Jim responded earnestly.

Jake laughed more, collapsing in the grass and knocking Jim down in the process. Jim shoved him back, but was laughing, too, when he heard a high voice calling for help. Looking quickly around, he spotted Teddy heading toward them, dragging something and dropping it, picking it up and dragging it some more, then dropping it again.

Jim and Jake pushed themselves up off the grass and went to see what Teddy had.

"Hi!" Teddy panted. "Drew wanted me to take some of these, but I think I got too many."

He had what looked like a pile of branches, but each had a little basket on one end. They were bulky and it was easy to see why Teddy had trouble carrying them.

Jim reached down and picked up one of the sticks. "Are these for lacrosse? They look..." he searched for something tactful and came up with "primitive".

Teddy frowned in puzzlement.

"Um, did you make these, Teddy?" he asked.

"Oh, no. Drew and Patrick and Sean made them, but I helped. I got to take off the little branches, see?" He pointed at a spot where some twigs had evidently been stripped from the main branch.

Jake picked up another of the sticks. It was a fairly straight branch, about 2 1/2 feet long tapering a "Y" at one end. Rawhide and cotton shoelaces had been woven through what looked like some basketball netting; the netting and laces were fixed between the two sides of the "Y" making a kind of shallow net pocket. The branch itself had been sanded smooth for most of its length, with the grip wrapped in duct tape.

"Hey, Teddy!" another voice called. "Thanks for bringing those down." Drew came up to them, a stick tucked under his arm. Sean was close behind him carrying another couple of sticks.

Sean turned to Jim and Jake. "What do you think?" he asked proudly. They're not titanium, but they turned out great, for what we had to work with." He turned one of the sticks this way and that admiringly. "The heads were the hard part. I guess the Native Americans used to steam the end and bend it around into a kind of hoop, but Ron helped us cut branches that all had forks on one end. Took us awhile to get enough of them."

"What are you going to use for a ball?" Jake asked.

Sean pulled a white, hard rubber ball out of one pocket and pointed at a can of tennis balls he'd dropped on the ground. "Ron had one lacrosse ball, and we found these in the game room. No deer hide balls."

"Deer hide balls?" Jake repeated.

"It's what Native Americans used. They invented lacrosse."

Oh. Why did they...?" he started to ask, but was interrupted by a shout from behind them.

"Three more to play!" Ron yelled, walking toward them with Patrick, Dara, and Toby. Ron was carrying a very different kind of stick. The shaft was silver and the head plastic, with bright orange laces woven through white strings.

Patrick stared at it with envy. "Warrior Krypto Pro," he breathed, "with a Blade Face-Off head."

"You'll get your turn with it, Patrick," Ron reassured him.

"We're not playing," Toby ventured. "We just came to watch."

"Are you sure? We could use you both."

Toby looked to Dara for guidance, but she was looking at Drew with a goofy expression. He rolled his eyes. "I guess we're playing," he stated, a little more firmly than the situation called for.

"Great!" Patrick exclaimed. He picked up one of the sticks and thrust it into Dara's hands, bowing low and murmuring a few words in a strange language.

Dara grabbed the stick by instinct, pulled her eyes away from Drew and looked curiously at Patrick. "What did you say? Was that elvish again?"

Patrick smiled sheepishly and nodded. "I said "for my lady elf", or close enough." She grinned delightedly, dazzling Patrick and stopping Drew's breath.

"OK, we've got 8 sticks, not counting Ron's truly excellent Warrior," Sean said. "Everybody grab one and Patrick and I will go over the basics."

Since Sean and Patrick were the only kids who'd actually played lacrosse before, Ron had asked them to give a little lesson to the others. Ron himself had played lacrosse in college. Despite his country boy image, he'd gone to an east coast, ivy league school, and came out with a master's degree in psychology and a fine appreciation of the sport of lacrosse. He was thrilled when he found out the twins had been playing club lacrosse in Utah. Baseball, football, soccer, they were all good, but in his mind, lacrosse was in a different league altogether, no pun intended.

The sticks they'd made were barely functional, he thought, but they'd have fun with them anyway. He handed his own stick to Patrick, who received it reverently.

"It's so light!" He ran out onto the field and yelled for Sean to shoot him a ball.

"One ball, then you have to get back here and help show these guys what to do!" Sean dropped the lacrosse ball into the basket of one of the wooden sticks and flicked it out to Patrick. At least, he meant to, but the ball dropped through the netting and onto the ground behind him.

"Where'd it...?" He spun around looking for the ball. "Wait a sec!" he called out to Patrick. "I need to fix this." He pulled out a couple of laces and re-threaded them through the netting, before picking up the ball again. This time, the ball sailed smoothly, but way left of Patrick.

"Gonna take awhile to dial that in, huh?" Patrick commented, before running after it.

"Might need some adjustments on the other sticks, too," Sean yelled.

Patrick started jogging back to the group, cradling the ball as Sean ran toward him. Just before Sean reached him, Patrick faked left, then ran around Sean to the right.

"Oh, juked him!" he crowed.

Sean turned and ran after him, catching up just as Patrick reached the others. He gave his brother a disgusted look before beginning to

explain the object and rules of the game, and the modified version they'd be playing given the available equipment and the player's universal lack of experience.

Dara felt some relief upon hearing the word "noncontact", though she didn't understand what type of contact the game usually involved. Toby was happy to be involved, although somewhat apprehensive. He had spent as little time as possible playing team sports. Final Fantasy on his Xbox probably didn't count, he thought.

Jake and Jim were already tossing balls back and forth with some skill, while Drew ran toward the far end of the field to retrieve a ball Toby had lobbed with speed, but no accuracy.

As he helped Teddy try to catch and shoot balls, Ron looked on as people chased wild throws, scrambled to catch balls that soared overhead, and accidently whacked each other with the unwieldy and unfamiliar sticks. Everyone seemed to be laughing and having fun just the same. Patrick and Sean ran around barking instructions to which no one paid any attention. Patrick stopped with his hands on his hips, staring at the chaos. "They are just a bunch of pansies!" he commented in an Indian accent. King Julian from _Madagascar_ was one of his favorites.

Ron smiled encouragingly at Teddy and motioned to him to toss the ball to Dara, standing about 10 feet in front of him. Patrick ambled over with a disgusted look on his face.

He leaned on Ron's stick, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. "Did you ever see such a mess?"

"Many times," smiled Ron, not acknowledging what Patrick had left unsaid. "I've had days on the field when it seemed absolutely nothing went right...dropped balls, missed catches, unbelievably bad shots, and everyone playing like they never heard of teamwork. Haven't you?"

"Yeah," Patrick agreed. "I've been there."

"Then there are those other days, when it feels like you know where the ball is going to go even before it happens. You make impossible catches, the least experienced guy on the team scores an amazing goal, and everyone seems to be in the right spot at the right time. Those are golden moments," he sighed.

"So, how do you make that happen versus stuff like we're looking at now?" Patrick gestured toward the people running all over the field.

"Oh, now is just inexperience...made more challenging because we don't have, um, _forgiving_ sticks to work with." He chuckled. "As for the other way, I'm still working on that myself. But I've found that, in addition to a _whole_ lot of practice, the more I pay attention and notice the truth about whatever's going on with me, the more those moments happen.

"Teddy..." he heard Sean say in mildly exasperated tones, "if you flick it when the stick is still behind your head, the ball's just going to go straight up in the air."

"You said to flick it, so I flicked it!" Teddy retorted.

Ron and Patrick both smiled.

"For me, it has a lot to do with what's happening off the field," Ron explained. "Here's an example. There was this guy on one of my lacrosse teams, a good player, better than good, actually, but personally, a first class jerk. During games, he'd hog the ball instead of passing, showboat after he scored, talk a lot of trash to the other team, and wasn't much better to his own teammates."

"Oh, I've met that guy before," Patrick grinned.

"Yeah, there are a few of them out there. Anyway, there was a girl we both liked. One night, the whole team went out for pizza after a game, and she showed up at the same restaurant. This guy, his name was Richard...seriously!" Ron interjected when Patrick snorted. "Well, he chose that night to come down hard on Josh, our goalie. In the last quarter, Josh let in 7 goals before coach pulled him, and we lost by 12 points. I saw Richard harassing Josh, and then I noticed the girl walking toward us. I got up and grabbed Rich by the front of his shirt, dragged him out of his seat, and shook him a little. I thought he'd throw a punch, but instead he sank at the knees and begged me to let him go. We were right in front of the girl when this happened; she looked at us both like we were cockroaches and turned around and walked away. Josh pulled on my arm, and I realized I was still holding Rich. I let him go, and he ran off."

Ron watched the balls flying back and forth, before resuming his story. "I told myself I did what I did to protect Josh, but every time I thought of what happened I got that "ick" feeling. You know what I mean?"

Patrick nodded.

"Rich stayed away from practice and we didn't know if he had quit the team, or what. I told myself it was better that he didn't come back, but it still kept bothering me. My mind kept replaying that night, and I stunk at practices. I had no energy and I kept missing shots, when I could get myself downfield to take them at all. One day after another lousy practice, I admitted to myself that I didn't rough up Rich for Josh, I did it to impress that girl.

"What did you do?"

"After I finally stopped lying to myself about what happened, I went to Rich's dorm and apologized for roughing him up, told him I'd never touch him again, and asked him to come back and play. He did come back, eventually. It was pretty awkward, at first, but then he seemed to pick up where he left off. He was never quite as cocky and irritating as he had been, but close. Me, I felt this weird sense of calm and the ick feeling was gone. I found I had more energy and my game came back. I think when we don't tell the truth, especially to ourselves, it saps our energy and attention. Being really honest and working to make things right...that _gives_ energy. I don't know if that makes any more sense to you..."

"Yeah," Patrick interrupted. "It does." His mind went back to one of his own "ick" moments, one that still made his stomach lurch whenever he remembered it.

"What about you?"

"Oh...I...well, I did something really bad to Sean once. I still feel "icky" about it," he said, trying to joke.

Ron didn't smile, just raised his eyebrows and looked inquiringly at Patrick.

"It's just...I booby-trapped a toilet at school and it sort of backfired. I only meant for people to get wet, but...but, one of the teachers went to investigate the screams and she sort of slipped and broke her ankle. Someone thought they saw Sean leaving the bathroom right before it happened, so he got nailed for it. He figured I had done it, but when he asked me, I lied and he believed me." Patrick paused, embarrassed. "He still doesn't know."

"What would happen if you told Sean?"j

Patrick looked fearful. "He'd hate me! I not only let him take the blame, I lied to him...my twin!"

"What happens if you don't tell him?"

"I don't know. Nothing, maybe..." He sighed, dropping his chin onto his chest. "Crap."

Patrick drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked away, heading toward Sean. Ron watched, saw Patrick talking, and Sean's face change gradually from puzzlement to wrath.

"Idiot!" yelled Sean. He beaned Patrick with the head of his stick.

"Ow!"

"You deserve it, you dumb ass!" Sean said, fuming. "Are you going to lie to me again? 'Cause if you're going to lie to me again, don't even bother talking to me!"

Patrick responded in tones too low for Ron to catch the words. Sean's shoulders slumped and after slugging Patrick in his chest, pulled him into a hug. Patrick's arms went around him and squeezed hard.

They broke apart self-consciously. "Quit slacking off and get back to work!" Sean ordered, shoving the stick into Patrick's hands. "Do I have to do everything?" He turned and walked back toward the players, a small smile playing around his lips.

Patrick watched his brother walk away, an identical smile hovering around his own mouth. "Let's go and meet the pansies!" Patrick yelled, channeling King Julian again as he ran back to help his brother.

Chapter 20

Truth

They filed into the dining room, ravenous after a morning running around the field in the sun. Drew's stomach grumbled loudly and Dara laughed. "If I don't get some food in the next 3 minutes, I'm storming the kitchen," he declared.

"I'm with you!" Jake said, coming up behind him. " I only had a chili cheese omelet and two oranges for breakfast, and nothing since!"

Fortunately for the kitchen staff, bowls and platters were being pushed through the passthrough even as Drew reached the first table. He detoured to the passthrough and grabbed a bowl of potato salad and another of biscuits. Jake picked up a platter of chicken sandwiches and a fruit salad.

The tables quickly filled with kids and food, and soon the room was noisy with chatter, laughter, and plate scraping. Corinne came through the door with Caroline, and plopped down on either side of Jim, across from Dara and Drew.

"Let me at it!" Corinne stated emphatically. Jake reached across Jim to offer her a sandwich, which she gratefully accepted. Caroline took one, too, and busied herself spooning a heaping mound of potato salad onto her plate. Jake watched in fascination, amazed that a girl could eat as much as he could.

"How's the oven coming?" Jim asked.

"We built the foundation and first few layers," Corinne replied after swallowing a bite of biscuit. "Finished the last batch of bricks. We all put our handprints on a brick. It was fun!" She ate another bite and chewed quickly. "Cal was going to put Rockman's paw on one, too, but then the dorky dog chased a squirrel right over the bricks, so we have dog and squirrel prints."

Toby leaned over from his seat on the other side of Dara. "Was Cal really mad?"

"Nah, he liked them that way. Anyway, he said we should be baking bread by next week, sooner than he thought."

"Does that mean about the time the parents arrive?" Toby asked.

His question cast a damper over a number of his seatmates.

Caroline answered for Corinne, who had suddenly gone quiet. "Cal said parents are going to arrive on Wednesday, so they'll be here the last two nights of camp."

Jim looked from Corinne to Jake. "My mum's coming," he offered into the silence. "My dad's working, doing some deep sea research in the South Pacific. He's hoping to find another Yeti crab."

Corinne came to life. "Yeti? As in abominable snowman Yeti?"

"Yeah, it's this pale-looking crab with long hairy arms. The first one was found more than 2 kilometers below the surface."

"That I'd like to see," put in Jake. 'Have you ever been down that deep?"

"No, you have to be in a submersible to go down that far. I will one day, though," Jim stated matter-of-factly.

"That's so cool! Wait 'til I tell my dad!" Toby exclaimed. "Are your parents coming?" he asked, looking at Dara and turning the conversation back to the last days of camp.

Dara pushed potato salad around her plate, parsing the pickles and onions from the rest, while Caroline and Drew watched her with concern. She didn't meet Toby's eyes when she told him that she thought her mom, at least, would be coming. She wasn't sure about her dad. He was always very busy.

"Oh," Toby responded, a little deflated. "Well, um...both my parents will be here. Maybe your dad will be able to come, too."

"Maybe," Dara said, without enthusiasm. Dara's Rule, she thought: "Don't count on it, whatever it is."

"Both of ours will be here, too," Caroline offered. Drew nodded. He reached over and rested a large, warm palm on Dara's back. Dara smiled wanly.

Jake had been silent. He scowled as he declared, "My dad won't show up. He hasn't shown up for about 5 years."

Everyone looked startled except Jim. He carefully chewed a bite of chicken sandwich, swallowed, and turned to Jake. "How about your mum, then? Will she be here?"

An image of his mom laughing came to Jake's mind and he experienced a jolt of fierce love and longing. He blinked and then his rare smile dawned. He nodded his head. "Yeah, she'll be here. She sent me a letter a couple of days ago saying she would."

Jim smiled back at him. He and the others turned to Corinne, the only one of them who hadn't said anything about her parents.

She had watched Jake's smile in wonder, but when all eyes turned to her, she flushed. "What?" she demanded, as her fork clattered on her plate.

Corinne peered up at Jim and held his gaze for a few seconds before exhaling a huge sigh. "Oh, alright!" Another sigh followed. "My dad will be here, for sure. I'm hoping my mom and step-dad _don't_ come. I'd like it if my little sister could be here."

"Why don't you want your mom to come?" Jake asked the question the others had thought.

Corinne frowned, trying to think of how to express the twisted feelings she had about her mother. "Well, she...left," she began. "Left us, me and my sister and my dad. My dad's been great, but my mom...she took off with this dumb ass guy and ended up marrying him. Whenever we...my sister and I, go visit them, she treats us like guests instead of her kids. I mean, she's kind of stiff, like making sure we eat and everything, but not grabbing us and hugging us or telling us to clean our rooms, that kind of thing. And he...!" She snorted. " _he_ acts like he knows everything and you're a kid, so you don't know jack!"

She had started out speaking slowly, but she was on a roll now. "Do you know what they got me for my birthday this year?" she fumed. "A Barbie! And not just any Barbie...a special edition Hello Kitty Barbie! I'm 14½ years old!" Corinne hit the table for emphasis and sent her fork spinning into Jim's lap. He picked it up and put it back on her plate, suppressing a grin.

"They got Allison, my sister, the same thing, only hers was Dallas Cowboy cheerleader Barbie. Could you be any more clueless?"

They all shook their heads emphatically.

"It gets worse," she said, warming to her story. "My step-dad used to work at my school, one of the vice principals. NOBODY liked him. He'd ignore it if some football hero was picking on a 6th grader, and freak out if you wore one little thing that wasn't part of the uniform. Oh, yeah, we have to wear uniforms!" Her eyes were bright with indignation.

Caroline shared a look with Dara, both of them thinking they understood Corinne's wild clothes a little better.

"He moved to another school before he and my mom...well, people found out about it anyway, and I _hated_ going to school after that!" She grabbed the uneaten half of biscuit on her plate and began tearing it into tiny pieces. "We go to their house and my mom acts all fake-nice, and he's his usual full-of-it self...it got so bad we practically stopped going...just a few days at Christmas and a week this summer."

Corinne stopped talking and stared down at the ruined biscuit on her plate. Jim fished the last biscuit out of the basket and set it beside her without a word, winning a small, crooked smile. Corinne picked it up, tore it in two and offered half to Jake. He accepted it with a nod of thanks, pulled his half apart and handed half of his half to Dara. She popped it into her mouth and chewed slowly, looking at Jake and Corinne with a calmness she hadn't felt a few minutes earlier.

This feels weird, Dara thought. She hadn't been to a pool, without doing laps, in years. Maybe she hung out after practice sometimes, but it was always after she'd put in the work. Even at camp, it was laps first, then play. She sat on the edge of the pool, feet dangling. She had done her laps that morning and gone back to the pool after dinner. It wasn't crowded. There were a couple of kids she didn't know, and the rest had all become friends. Jake and Toby were in the shallow end, whacking each other with noodles. Jim and Corinne were laughing as they did pull-ups on the diving board. Well, Jim did pull-ups and Corinne tried to, but kept falling back in the water halfway up, Dara noticed. Caroline was squatting by the filter, using her cupped hand to rescue floating bugs. Drew had said he'd be there later. He had finally discovered a team sport he liked: lacrosse. Patrick and Sean were still bemoaning their lack of foresight in leaving their sticks at home. They had found Dave, another boy at camp who played, and who had been smart enough to bring his own stick. After dinner, the four of them trotted down to the field with two good sticks (Ron let them borrow his) and the two best homemade ones.

She tilted her head back and took a deep breath. The air smelled warm and sweet, with a slight overlay of chlorine. A perfect evening. Dusk was setting in and she figured the others had to show up soon since the field had no lights. Just as she thought this, she heard the gate creak open and saw four boys jostling each other as they came through. Drew's eyes met hers and he smiled. Dara felt the perfect evening get better. He dropped t-shirt, shoes, and towel on a chair and came to sit beside her. The other three threw their towels on the ground, kicked off their flip-flops, and whooping, jumped into the pool.

"Hey, Okie, I've got 3 hits for every one of yours!" Jake taunted, grinning as his noodle missed Toby's shoulder by an inch.

"You're crazy, Jake! Mine have landed twice as many times as yours!" He blocked Jake's noodle as it came slashing down, twisted his own under Jake's guard as he brought it back up, and rammed it into his chest.

"Hah!" he called out triumphantly.

"Lucky shot!"

"Luck?! I..." Toby's comeback was literally drowned out when Patrick, Sean, and Dave grabbed noodles and joined the fray. Noodles flew, heads got dunked, and the night was filled with loud adolescent male voices, laughing, cracking, and talking smack.

Corinne hung onto the edge, watching as Jim swam effortlessly to retrieve an abandoned alligator floatie and bring it back for them. They each hooked an arm around one of the alligator's.

"I can swim, but you make it look so easy."

"I don't remember not knowing how to swim. I've always been in and around water." He pronounced it "wuatta", making her smile.

With her hair wet and flat against her head, he could see the delicate angle of her jaw, and luminous blue eyes fringed by blonde, dark-tipped lashes. Clothes and attitude had not been her only camouflage; her wide halo of hair hid her, as well.

"You're treasure map gave away some secrets," he said, liking the way her smile had changed from a tight grimace when they'd first met to something soft and easy. "Or rather, told me that what I thought I already knew was true."

They had walked from the lodge back to her cabin right after dinner, and she brought out her treasure map to show him. She waited anxiously as his eyes scanned the paper, half-relieved, half-mad when he broke into laughter.

"What?! I _told_ you I wasn't sure I did it right, I said I..."

He stopped her voice with a kiss, then took her face between his hands. "It's perfect. It's you," he said simply, and kissed her again.

Corinne felt something ease inside her. Tears filmed her eyes, but didn't fall. When he leaned back, she was smiling. She took the paper from him and began to tell him about some of the things on her map.

"This is my favorite rock," she said, pointing at a picture of a flat boulder in a garden, next to an artificial waterfall. My dad built this pond with a waterfall, and I like to sit here and think. The spray is cool, I like the sound, and I can smell sweet almond and roses." She moved her finger down the page. "I'm thinking about fashion design for when I'm older." There were a couple of cutouts of runway models pasted in the corner. "Either that or a doctor." A Bandaid with a heart was stuck on a photo of a little girl. "I helped my sister when she broke her arm, and I'm real good at cleaning up cuts and making people feel better."

Jim nodded gravely. "I'll bet you are." He placed his finger on another picture and asked her about it. They kept looking at her map and talking until it was time to meet the others at the pool. After years of drama and stress, Corinne couldn't remember ever feeling so content.

She hung on to the floatie, her head close to Jim's. Looking into his eyes, she kicked her feet lazily beneath the surface. "Oh, and you still have to show me yours!"

"I will. I was thinking about your rock. I have a place quite like it, only it's not in my backyard. It's not on land at all, but on my dad's boat. There's a place on the aft deck where I can sit up fairly high and see almost all of the ocean around the boat. I can catch a breeze, watch dolphins, read a book...It's the best!"

"Hmmm, I'd like to see that some day," Corinne responded wistfully.

"And I find them pitching woo again," a voice called out from the deck near where they floated.

Jim grinned and lifted a hand in greeting. Corinne kicked the floatie around until she was facing Cal. "Don't you ever use words from this century? Pitching woo?"

Cal shot her a steely gaze. "Guy walks into a bar...," he began.

"Oh, god, no!" she groaned, lolling her head back in the water.

Cal laughed and kept walking. Must be headed for the weight room Corinne thought, secretly a little disappointed he hadn't told another joke.

Jake had joined forces with Toby against the other three, and Drew jumped in to even out the sides. His size was an advantage, but Patrick was lightening quick. Jake had some unexpected moves, Sean and Dave made precision hits, and Toby specialized in mindless, wild whacking, hitting his teammates and the others equally.

Caroline padded around the deep end and plopped down next to Dara. "Loud enough for you?"

Dara laughed. "You better hope they don't start going for the diving boards or the slide, or we'll be in the war zone." She watched Toby get knocked backwards into deeper water, then come charging out again with a war cry that terrified no one. His noodle slashed down, the front end batting away Sean's noodle, and the back end coming around to catch Drew in the chest. Sean and Drew both grabbed for Toby's noodle and all three went under water.

"He finally showed me what he wrote in the Magic class," Dara commented, pointing her chin at the roiling waters.

"Toby?"

"Yeah. And he told me why he's been acting so weird. He was afraid I wouldn't want to be around him anymore now that I...now that Drew...," she blushed, and Caroline smirked.

"I get it. He didn't think you were interested in him like that, did he?" she asked incredulously.

"No, nothing like that. I think he felt like I'd rather be with Drew and with you instead of him. We worked it out, though."

"Good! I like the little twerp, too. What did he do in Magic, or can you tell me?"

They talked about Toby's plans, and then Dara asked Caroline, "What about you? You said you were deciding between two things. Did you make up your mind?

Caroline kept her eyes on the water, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Actually, I came up with something completely different." She paused, reaching down to trickle her fingers back and forth in the water. "You know, I did a treasure map about going to the Galapagos?"

Dara nodded.

"Well, I still want to go there, but I thought of something else, something new, while I was in that class. You know how I like science?" she asked Dara.

"Yeah, I know...Weirdo!" she added, flicking her foot to splash Caroline.

Caroline chuckled. "Uh huh. I love science and I love animals and...you live in California...have you ever been to the Wild Animal Park, in San Diego?"

"Sure, lots of times. I like it better than the zoo, except they don't have a seal show."

"It's an awesome zoo, but I like the Wild Animal Park better, too. Soooo, I was thinking, wouldn't it be great if I could work there or even at the zoo?"

"You want to be an animal trainer?"

"No, I want to be a vet. A wildlife vet."

"That would be so cool!" Dara hugged her. "Would you give me a tour, like a behind-the-scenes thing? Anything but snakes and lizards, OK?"

"Actually, the Park has a special tour of their Veterinary Medical Center, but you have to be 16. My mom checked it out online. I'll do the tour, if they still have it when I'm 16, but I'm going to work there, too!" she declared, her face flushed and her eyes bright. "When I get home, I'm going to find some colleges with wildlife vet programs. I bet my dad can help, too. He has a friend who works at the Boise zoo, and maybe he can tell me what I need to do."

"That's great! You're so smart, I know you'll do it!"

Caroline started to thank Dara and ended up squealing when a miniature tsunami flowed over their legs. A half dozen thrashing boys were at the epicenter of a noodle fight that had gradually shifted toward the deep end. Dara leaned back to avoid getting even more soaked, and noticed Corinne clinging to her floatie, wiping away the water that dripped into her eyes. She sure looked different without all that hair floating around her face.

"Hey!" Corinne called out sharply. The boys paid no attention and she narrowed her eyes. "This is war," she said to Jim through clenched teeth, abandoning the floatie and dog paddling to the side of the pool. Pulling herself up on the edge, she trotted over to a storage box and debated between a water blaster water cannon and a Super Soaker Aquashock Hydroblitz. Jerking loose the water cannon, she ran back to the pool's edge and filled up.

Jim saw her and looking alarmed, called out "Oy! I wouldn't do that if..."

Corinne paid no attention and blasted the group of boys with a powerful jet of water.

Jim shook his head fatalistically.

The boys yelled and froze, searching for the source of the blasts.

Corinne used that moment to start reloading, but before she finished, all six boys were heaving through the water towards her. She glanced up, saw a blur of six determined male faces, gulped, and tried to swing the cannon up to fend them off.

Before she could blink, she felt the cannon being pulled from her hands and she was flying through the air. A spectacular fountain of water marked where she landed, and another wave soaked Dara and Caroline.

Corinne surfaced to triumphant yells from the boys. A strong hand immediately clasped her upper arm and towed her to the side of the pool near Dara and Caroline.

"You OK?' Jim asked, letting go only after she was holding tightly to the edge. Corinne nodded breathlessly. "Slight strategic error," she gasped.

He laughed at that. "The perils of not having any brothers, I guess."

"What were you thinking?" Caroline demanded. "Don't you know they're always into overkill? You're lucky they only threw you in the pool!"

"Yeah, not one of my smarter moves," she agreed, but then yelled at the boys. "Oh, sure, six against one! Aren't you the brave ones!" She managed to look belligerent and bedraggled at the same time.

"Good to see you haven't lost your...what's that word?...chutzpah, yeah, chutzpah, but some sense of self-preservation would be good, too."

"No kidding," Caroline commented dryly.

Jake, Jim, and Drew were the only ones left in the hot tub. The girls had gone off, dragging Toby with them, saying something about giving him a faux-hawk. Toby seemed willing to be their living doll; in fact, he looked quite pleased with himself as he strutted out the gate surrounded by three ladies.

Patrick, Sean, and Dave left shortly after the girls. Drew heard Patrick humming something familiar as he passed by, then snorted as he dredged up a long ago memory from his days watching an old Sesame Street video. Patrick had been humming in Ernie's voice, but the words came back to Drew's mind; "Rubber Ducky, you're the one. You make bath time lots of fun. Rubber Ducky I'm awfully fond of you..." At least it wasn't Barney, he thought.

Jake rested his head against the edge of the Jacuzzi, sighing as the hot water seeped into his bones. He stared up at the stars; there were so many more to see in the darkness away from city lights. It had been almost two weeks since he came to camp; in some ways, it seemed like two months, and then again, two days. He thought about his dad, about Ron, about his new friend, Jim, and he let the thoughts float away while he was cocooned in the warm water.

"I think he's dreaming."

"About what? Or who? How about that KiKi girl, the one from New York? I've seen him checking her out," Drew said.

"Could be," Jim mused. "Or maybe it's your sister. Can't keep his eyes off her when we're at the table."

"Just keep talking about me like I'm not here," Jake broke in. "And I watch Caroline eat because she eats more than me and she's still a stick. How does she do that?"

"Must be KiKi, then," Drew stated, ignoring his question.

Jake sat up. "It's not KiKi, OK? Unlike some people, I can think about other things than girls," he countered.

Unrepentant, Drew and Jim grinned at each other. "And what would that be?" Jim enquired.

Jake sank back down again, sighing. "Camp. How I didn't expect to have any fun, and now I'm sorry it's going to end soon." He rolled his head to the side to look at the other two. "You may have noticed I wasn't exactly thrilled when I first got here."

Drew rolled his eyes. "No, man, you had us fooled." He grabbed a discarded noodle and lobbed it at Jake's head. It bounced off and Jake grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well..."

"Sean told us what you said to him, and to Patrick and Toby, the day you got here...about not wanting to make friends."

"Airy-fairy love your neighbor crap" was my favorite bit," Jim commented appreciatively. "You had a way with words, when you spoke at all."

"I talk now...a lot more than I used to," Jake defended himself.

"We noticed that, too. And you're not so...?"

"Rude?" Drew offered. "Cruel? Annoying? Snotty? Obnoxious?"

"OK, OK!" Jake held up a hand. "Just because you two grew up with two parents who loved you and..."

Drew and Jim let out loud groans that drowned out Jake's words. Drew played an imaginary violin while Jim said "He asking for a dunking!"

Jake had the grace to smile.

"Seriously, what your dad did stinks," Drew told him. "Personally, I'm glad you decided to quit acting like a shithead and making yourself miserable because of what _he_ did. You're much more fun this way."

"Thanks, I think," Jake retorted, but warmed by what Drew said.

"Anytime." Drew glanced across at Jim. "So, did you like him better before he decided to start talking or after?"

Jim looked as if he was giving the matter serious thought. "Still thinking," he said, and dodged to the side as Jake launched himself across the tub. A minor water fight ensued, but they soon subsided, too tired and too content to continue.

Chapter 21

What's Cookin'?

Cal heard voices and looked up from troweling mortar off an adobe brick. Corinne and Dara were approaching, a third figure with a slight build sandwiched between them. Cal did a double-take, finally recognizing Toby. He was wearing shades clipped over his glasses, and his dark hair had been coaxed into a faux-hawk with orange-colored gel.

Cal straightened, sticking the trowel upright in the bucket of mortar.

"Dude," he greeted Toby, then nodded at the girls.

"'S'up?" Toby responded.

Cal had a hard time controlling his smile, but he managed.

"Nice 'do."

"Thanks!" A boyish grin split Toby's face, at odds with his previous cool dude stance.

"Doesn't he look great?" Corinne enthused. I wish I'd brought blue gel, it would have gone better with his eyes."

"No, I like the orange," Cal said diplomatically. "Almost done here," he added, pointing at the oven. The walls of mortared bricks rose up and canted inward to begin forming the roof. Most of the inside of the oven had been covered in a layer of mud mortar, as well.

"Have to finish the roof, let it dry, then plaster the outside."

"There's nothing for us to do here now. How about we go on that ride to the meadow?" Corinne asked Dara and Toby.

"I've got to swim this morning. But I've been to the meadow already. I hiked there with Drew and Caroline. You'll like it."

"I want to see the meadow, too," Toby told Dara apologetically.

"Don't want to get your hair wet, huh?" she guessed.

"Not yet," he admitted. "We should ask Sean and Patrick, too. Let's go find them."

Corinne looked less than thrilled with this agenda, but allowed herself to be towed away by Toby.

"So when do we get to bake the bread?" Dara asked.

"Probably by Tuesday."

She stared at the primitive-looking pile of dried mud. "Dara's Rules: Don't count on it," she murmured.

"What's that?" Cal asked, puzzled.

"Oh," she exclaimed, disconcerted. She usually didn't say her Rules out loud. "I'm sorry, I have a hard time imagining this will work...as an oven, I mean."

"Oh, it'll work," he said confidently. "But I thought you said something about Dara's Rules?"

Embarrassed, Dara fiddled with the pockets of her shorts. "It's just that I have these rules I say to myself sometimes. It sort of helps me, um, well, it just helps me." She felt awfully stupid and was afraid Cal would laugh.

She glanced up and saw him watching her with a curious expression. "Give me an example," he said. "Like, what was the one you said just now?"

"That one was "Don't count on it". Actually, it's "Don't count on it, whatever it is."

Cal nodded, wincing inwardly. Ouch, he thought. "When you think about "Don't count on it, whatever it is", does it remind you of anything?"

Rocky trotted over to Dara and put his paws on her knees. She squatted down and scratched under his chin, and he promptly dropped and rolled in an unmistakable plea for a belly rub. She smiled and obliged, thinking about Cal's question.

"Yes, it makes me think about my mom and dad. I mean, I know they love me, but I can't count on my mom to stand up for me. She doesn't stand up to my dad about anything. And I can't count on my dad except for whatever he thinks will get me to the Olympics. It's like...he makes sure I get to practice, he found me a great coach, stuff like that, but...it seems like that's _all_ he cares about. He was supposed to come see my play – I was one of the flying monkeys in _Wizard of Oz_ – but he got busy and didn't come. I got an award for English Composition and there was an award ceremony in the gym one night; he missed that, too. If I want to go to the movies with friends or have a sleepover at someone else's house, I can't ever count on him to let me. Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn't, and I can't figure out the reasons either way." She gave a humorless laugh.

"Uh huh. So, what do you think about all that? I mean, when you think "Don't count on it", what do you feel, what do you think?"

She frowned. "I think it saves me from being disappointed. It hurts when he doesn't seem to care about anything but swimming. If I don't expect anything from him, then I can't be disappointed...except I am anyway."

"You're saying the Rule doesn't work. It doesn't work to keep you from being disappointed," he clarified.

"No, I guess not."

"I wonder if your other Rules work."

She looked up quickly, then down again. "I'd have to think about them all." Rocky placed a sturdy paw on her hand, urging her to resume scratching.

"I've had rules or beliefs that worked and others that didn't, too. There was one that got me in a world of trouble," he reminisced. "It was "I'm smarter than my dad." When I was in high school, I used to sneak out of the house at night to hang out with my friends. I'd wait until my parents went to bed, stuff pillows under my covers, and pop the screen off my window or tiptoe out the front door. We'd meet in the park, maybe do some drinking, maybe egg cars or toilet paper houses."

Dara looked at him disapprovingly.

Cal nodded. "I know. Bad ideas. Anyway, I thought I was so smart and my dad was so clueless he'd never find out. One time when I snuck back in the house through the front door, I heard my dad get up and start down the hall toward the kitchen. I hid behind a chair, snuck around him, and made it back to my bedroom. I was full of myself for days after that." He sighed. "And then the cops caught us one night. We were breaking curfew and we had a bottle of tequila. They brought me home at 3 in the morning and pounded on my parent's door."

Dara blanched. "My dad would have killed me!"

"Part of me thought that and the other part was trying to bluff my way through, acting all cocky. After the cops left, my mom said she couldn't deal with me right then and she went back to bed. She was crying. After she'd gone, I bragged to my dad that I'd snuck out a bunch of times and he never knew it."

She gasped, and he continued. "I'm sure he must have felt like grabbing me by the throat at the time, but he didn't. He didn't yell at me. Instead, he told me quietly that there is no honor and no skill involved in tricking those who trust us, so my bragging rights weren't worth squat. He had a bit more to say, and I did get punished, but what he said about trust was what stuck with me. I felt like such a slimeball. My relationship with him didn't change overnight, but that's the night it started. That's the night I began to grow up."

He smiled at Dara and scratched Rocky's neck. "My belief was that I was smarter, and it turned out that smart had nothing to do with it. These Rules of yours...you might want to give them some more thought. Figure out which ones are worth keeping and which ones are better off chucked out the window."

"We're hungry!" Jake declared, coming into the kitchen with Jim.

Shelley pulled her head out of the refrigerator, clutching a head of lettuce in one hand and a block of cheese in the other.

"Forage all you like, you won't get served in here."

Jim already knew the drill and was making a beeline for the pantry in back. Jake looked like he didn't know where to start, then quickly followed Jim.

Shelley smiled as they emerged from the pantry a few minutes later, laden with bread, tomato, avocado, onion, a jar of pepperoncini, two bags of chips, and a bag of Oreos. Jim set his load down on the prep table and moved to the fridge, adding mayo, mustard, and a pack of honey roasted turkey breast to the pile.

"Can we have some of that cheese?" Jake asked Shelley. "And some lettuce?"

She handed it over. "Just a light snack before dinner?"

"Lunch was hours ago! And I didn't get seconds because Caroline got to it first," Jake responded in a voice of ill-usage.

They made thick sandwiches, grabbed the chips and Oreos and headed for the door with a brief thanks to Shelley.

"Hang on...not the entire bag of Oreos, OK?"

Jake grinned, stuffed a few in his pocket, offered another handful to Jim, and held the bag out to Shelley.

"Goes back in the pantry...and your knives go in the sink...in the pot with the soapy water."

Jake stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He trotted back to the pantry, returned the Oreos to the shelf, grabbed the two knives and dumped them in the pot, and caught up with Jim as he backed his way out the swinging door.

They walked outside, rapidly chewing and swallowing large bites of sandwich. Sarah strolled by them on her way into the lodge; she gave Jake a big smile, and he nodded back, murmuring a low greeting. She kept going, and Jake turned around to look. When he turned back Jim was grinning at him. "Nice smile. Young, don't you think?"

"You can't tell by looks. She's my age...just short."

"Fancy her?"

Jake turned a little pink. "No, are you kidding? I mean, she's nice, but I'm not...I don't..."

Jim nudged him with his shoulder. "Someone else? Caroline, maybe?"

Jake sighed. "Why are you busting me? I like Caroline, too, even if I do have to fight her for food, but I'm not looking for a girlfriend right now. Just because you and Corinne are tight doesn't mean the whole world has to pair up."

Jim laughed. "True. No worries, I was just wondering."

They continued munching and walking, no particular destination in mind, until Jake stopped suddenly.

"Do you hear that?"

Jim stopped, too, staring at the ground as he listened. "Yeah. What is that? It sounds like...I don't know, but it's familiar."

Jake nodded. "It sounds like someone singing the Oompa Loompa song," he said, disbelieving. "I bet it's Patrick."

"Oompa Loompa...? Oh, Willy Wonka...the old one!"

They changed direction, heading toward the sound. Rounding the corner of the lodge, they spotted several groups of kids scattered around the patio.

"You will live in happiness, too," sang a boy Jake didn't recognize, then the kids all around him joined in on the final line "Like the Oompa Loompa doompadeedo!" They laughed as they finished singing, with backslapping and friendly shoving.

"One more time?" asked the boy.

Jim saw Noreen on the far side of the patio and started toward her to get an explanation.

"Hi, guys!" she greeted them.

"What's this about?" Jim asked.

"It's kids who went to the Get Real classes. We're getting ready for the show, for parent's night."

"Can we do it, too?" Jim asked, horrifying Jake. Jake shook his head vigorously, signaling to Jim that he would rather spend an entire afternoon watching chick flicks with a group of chattering girls than to help put on a show.

Noreen looked measuringly at Jake. "Have you been to a Get Real class, Jake?"

"No. I went to the other two, but not that one." He glanced at Jim, then back at Noreen. "I'm not exactly the acting type."

Noreen and Jim both broke into smiles. "You've done some excellent acting since I've met you. Truly wonderful!" Noreen commented admiringly.

"First class, mate!" Jim added.

Jake blushed for the second time that day, but couldn't keep the smile from his own face. He held up a hand in acknowledgment. "OK, but I still don't like the idea of acting in front of parents and everybody."

"Actually, this particular part is only supposed to be the kids who've gone to the class."

Jake breathed a sigh of relief, but then Jim piped up. "I could do some of the exercises with him, if that would work," he offered. "I've done it plenty of times with mum and other people."

Jake glared at him murderously, with no visible effect on Jim, who continued to look at Noreen.

"Great idea! Jake, you can pick the skit or skits you want to be in, and if you decide after all that you don't want to do it, you don't have to. How's that?" Noreen waited expectantly.

Jake had had so many new experiences since he came to camp, he felt like a different person. He thought about what Jim and Noreen suggested and he knew his old self would have run away and never looked back. Somehow, he found himself agreeing to do some of the Get Real stuff with Jim, but he made no promises about being in a skit.

"Hey, Jake! Jim!" Patrick yelled, waving them over. He, Sean, and Caroline were standing together by the big pine tree.

"Do either of you guys dance?"

They both shook their heads.

"Too bad. We need more Napoleons."

"Yeah," chimed in Sean. "We've only got Patrick and Caroline who can dance. I'm hopeless at it."

"I've never seen anyone more uncoordinated," corroborated Caroline. "I don't know how he manages to play lacrosse."

"Thanks a lot! I..." Sean started indignantly, and Patrick cut him off.

"Utterly atrocious!" Patrick said, channeling Simon Cowell from American Idol.

"If you've finished building up my ego, can we decide what we're going to do?" Sean demanded.

"What are you planning on doing with a bunch of dancing Napoleons?" Jim inquired. "Is everyone supposed to have a Napoleon complex?"

"Huh? Oh, wrong Napoleon. This is Dynamite, not Bonaparte."

"Who is Napoleon Dynamite?"

Patrick stared at him as if he was from another planet. After a beat he said in his best Southern redneck voice, "Yore not from around here, are ya, boy?" He turned to Jake. "Can you watch the movie with him in the next couple of days, so he knows what we're doing?"

"Do I really want to see this film?" complained Jim rhetorically.

Patrick squinted at him, Sean, and Jake. "Maybe two of you can make fun of the dancers and the other one can clap and get into it."

"That might work," mused Sean.

Jake had followed the conversation, but was now fixated on one point. He stared at Caroline. "You can dance like Napoleon Dynamite?" he asked, disbelieving.

She smiled and did a few moves while Jake looked on, amazed.

"I'm from Idaho, dude! The movie was huge there!"

Patrick couldn't resist. "Napoleon, don't be jealous that I've been chatting online with babes all day. Besides, we both know that I'm training to be a cage fighter."

While he hadn't seen the movie, the nasally-geeky voice of Kip made Jim laugh along with the rest of them.

"Alright then, I guess I must watch it."

Toby collapsed onto the shady bench outside the lodge. His faux-hawk was still stiff, upright, and very orange, but his face was beet-red. He wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his t-shirt, leaving a thin orange smear, and yelped when someone placed an ice-cold can against his neck. He grabbed it gratefully when Corinne lowered the root beer in front of his face.

She dropped beside him and took a gulp of cold water from a Dasani bottle. "Home-made peach ice cream tonight. Shelley said we'll have to take turns cranking. They'll have 3 ice cream makers going."

"All peach?"

"I didn't think of that. If they have three, we could do different flavors, huh? What's your favorite? No, let me guess...vanilla."

He eyed her unlovingly. "What if I said pistachio nut?"

Corinne stared at him blandly.

"OK, it's vanilla," he sighed. "But sometimes I like it with chocolate chips or blueberries on top," he said, as if this was wildly adventurous.

She grinned, but cuffed him affectionately on the shoulder. "Can you guess mine?"

Toby frowned. "Bubble gum? Rocky Road? Pralines 'n' cream?

Corinne shook her head, eyes sparkling. "Chocolate."

"No kidding? Chocolate...I thought it would be something more...well, different."

"Chocolate is a necessity of life. B&R's used to have this kind with chocolate-covered cherries in it." She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "And this little ice cream shop downtown had one that tasted like those chocolate covered orange sticks, you know, with the kind of orange jelly centers?"

"Oh, those are so good!"

"You should try the ice cream!"

"Wish I could." He took another sip of soda. They sat in silence for a few minutes, cooling down after the hike.

"Maybe we should go ask them about doing something besides peach," Toby suggested.

"Tell you what...did you still want to go swimming?"

"What about Jim?"

"What about...Oh, we're going to watch the movie after dinner tonight. He's doing something with Jake this afternoon."

"Then, yeah, I want to go swimming...not that I couldn't go swim by myself if you were busy," he added, with a show of confidence.

"Of course," she agreed with a grin. "What if you go see about the ice cream, and I'll go check on Cal's oven, and I'll meet you at the pool. I really want to see how far he got."

Toby nodded, pushing himself off the bench, and Corinne headed down the hill.

Rocky gave a happy bark, stubby tail wiggling, and ran up to her as she neared the oven. "Hey, tough guy!" He abased himself and offered his belly.

She shook her head. "Shameless. Don't you ever get tired of having your belly scratched?" Corinne looked around for Cal, but didn't see him.

"Where's your friend?" she asked Rocky. He stared back at her with no change of expression. "Lord and Master? Guy with the funny clothes?" she tried. Ignoring her questions, he reached out a paw to remind her of her duties.

"OK, OK, pest!" She scratched him some more, then straightened up and walked over to the oven to check it out. Near the top, the adobe bricks were staggered to approximate something like a cone-shape to create the roof. In the center, sticking out between the top bricks, was an empty can with both ends cut out. Smoke hole, Corinne figured.

Since Cal wasn't around, she started back toward her cabin to change into her swimsuit. Rocky trotted by her side, nose to the ground. She was thinking about what a great dog he was when he stopped, turned in a circle, hunched over, and began extruding perfect little cylinders of poop, like a Playdoh Fun Factory. Corinne wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Rocky finished, smiled up at her, and raked the ground vigorously with his back paws, tossing dirt, grass, and twigs over the pile he'd left.

"That's revolting!" she exclaimed.

"Are you going to clean that up?" a voice to her right said. Cal ambled out of the shade.

"What?!" She noted his green and pink-striped board shorts with envy.

"Well, looks like you're in charge of him right now, so it must be your mess to clean up."

She forgot about the board shorts. "Not my mess, his mess," she said, pointing at Rocky.

"No opposable thumbs. He can't pick it up. You'll have to do it for him."

Corinne looked mulish.

Cal laughed. "I guess I could do it, seeing as how you haven't been trained for the job. Me, I've had lots of practice. Rock here is one prolific pooper...a pooping machine, a master of..."

"I get it, I get it. TMI, man!"

He laughed again, but stopped talking and pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. He made short work of picking up the pile and tied off the bag. "What did you think of the oven?"

Corinne had been riveted by the oh-so-gross bag of poop swaying from his fingers, but she tore her eyes away. "It's cool! I can't wait to try the bread!"

"Me, too!" Cal agreed. "I'm going to go toss this. Is he OK with you?"

"Now that he's emptied himself, I guess so, if he can come to the pool with me, that is."

"Yeah, if you go to the pool, he'll just sack out under the slide. It's one of his favorite spots." He didn't tell her that Rocky had by no means emptied himself. Sometimes he had 3 or 4 good poops in him on any given day. Maybe I should give her a couple of bags, just in case, he mused. The thought made him smile, and he trudged up the hill to find a trashcan.

Chapter 22

Vote for Pedro

"I talked to Noreen. We don't need to find another TV to watch _Napoleon Dynamite_. It'll be the movie for the whole camp tonight....AND, we're having home-made ice cream for dessert!" Jake's mouth watered at the thought.

"What flavor?" Jim asked.

"She didn't say. I like them all, so I didn't ask." He was thinking about dinner and dessert, when Jim brought him back to Earth.

"We've got time to work on the Get Real stuff before dinner. Why not do it now?"

Jake's stomach plummeted, but he'd agreed to do it. He nodded at Jim, and they made their way toward Jim's cabin, Jake as grim as a march to the guillotine.

When he opened the door, the first thing Jake saw was Drew sitting on a bunk with his back to the wall. "I didn't know you were in the same cabin as Drew."

"Yeah, he's fairly hard to put up with, but we suffer through," Jim teased.

Drew laughed. "No harder than us trying to figure out what you're saying, Aussie!" He put down the sketchbook he'd been holding, stood up, and stretched, his fingers nearly brushing the ceiling.

"Mind if I take a look?" Jake pointed at the sketchbook.

Drew picked it up and handed it to Jake, who began slowly turning the pages while Jim looked over his shoulder.

Jake smiled when he saw the meadow, remembering that he'd surprised himself by having a lot of fun when he'd been there. The bois d'arc pod he'd picked up was carefully packed away in his duffle.

Turning another page, he and Jim both laughed out loud at a sketch of Ron. He was standing next to the blue roan, Squidward, with an arm flung across the saddle. His bright yellow t-shirt pictured Mr. Miyagi from _The_ _Karate Kid_ , and the words "Wax-on, Wax-off".

The next page was an intricate pencil drawing of a forest pool surrounded by ferns and towering pines. An elf was standing calf-deep in the water. Silvery blonde hair draped her shoulders and hung to her waist, a few strands covering one side of her face, the rest tucked behind pointed ears. Her eyes peaked out from behind the curtain of hair, intelligent, mischievous, laughing. With a start, Jake realized the elf was Dara.

He said the first thing that came to mind. "She'd going to love this."

"I hope so," Drew replied quietly. "I'm going to give it to her on the last day of camp."

Jim drew in a breath. "You really are good!"

"Thanks. It took me a long time to get that one just right."

Jake continued to turn pages, smiling as he recognized his friends, simply admiring other sketches, while Jim made comments from time to time. As he flipped another page, his face froze, unable to believe what he saw. It was a portrait of himself, no, two portraits, side by side. The Jake on the left scowled, dark brows drawing toward his nose, lips sneering. His legs were planted wide and his arms were crossed, shoulders hunched against the world. The Jake on the right stood at ease, one arm raised in greeting. An infectious grin spread across his face, lighting his eyes with laughter, inviting someone to come play.

Jake stared down at the sketches, his eyes blurring. Jim tried to take the sketchbook from him to get a closer look, but Jake had a death-grip on it. He raised his eyes to meet Drew's, but couldn't say anything around the lump in his throat.

Drew moved around Jake's back to stand beside Jim, so that all three of them were looking at the sketch.

"Do you think I got it right?" he asked.

Jake nodded slowly, still unable to speak.

Jim pointed at the two Jakes. "Same person, different identities."

"You mean like multiple personalities?" Drew asked in disbelief.

"No, it's still Jake, but Jake putting on an image, a false front, versus Jake being himself."

Jake cleared his throat. "That's how it feels, you know," he said softly. "Before...before, everything was so hard. Now, I don't have to try to...well, I can just be myself. I don't even know how it happened."

He turned around and handed the sketchbook back to Drew. "Thank you. Thank you for...thank you," he finished simply.

Drew turned the sketchbook around, carefully tore out the page, and gave it to Jake.

Jake's eyes widened in surprise and he smiled with pleasure. "Thanks," he repeated.

"You're welcome." Drew flipped some pages ahead. "Hey, what do you guys think of these?"

There were a number of sketches of lacrosse sticks, modern, stylized, and some looking as if they'd been made by Native Americans a couple hundred years ago. Jim and Jake looked up at Drew inquiringly.

"I was trying to think of ways to earn money, and I had this idea about t-shirts. All guys like t-shirts...look at Ron," he grinned. "And from what Ron said, lacrosse is really growing fast as a sport. I'm good at drawing..." he was interrupted as Jake said "No kidding!" at the same time Jim said "You're joking!".

"...AND I figured I could come up with some cool designs that people would want to buy, maybe add some words with the pictures."

"It's great!"

"Brilliant! Have you shown these to Ron?" Jim asked.

"Not yet." He abruptly slammed the sketchbook closed and headed for the door. "I'll go ask him. Sean and Patrick, too." He was gone on the words.

Jim and Jake stared at the open door. "Well, I guess he can get excited after all. He's always so laid back," Jake noted.

Jim nodded. "Time for us to get started, if we're going to finish before dinner."

Jake had forgotten about the Get Real stuff. He sighed, carefully laying aside the drawing from Drew.

They showed up at the lodge just as food was being carted out to the tables.

"Perfect timing!" Jake said, his eyes glowing with anticipation. He and Jim found room on the bench by Caroline, Dara, Corinne, and Toby. They were quickly joined by Sean, Patrick, and Drew, and their voices blended with the general din.

Jake helped himself to a barbecued turkey burger, roasted potatoes, green beans, and his favorite, cornbread slathered with honey butter. He kept a wary eye on Caroline, but there was plenty of food to go around. In between bites, he listened to Patrick, Sean, and Drew talk about lacrosse gear, and occasionally joined in the girls' conversation about the unfairness of not being allowed to text at school. It didn't seem long before he was pushing his empty plate away and wishing he'd left more room for ice cream.

"You missed a spot." Caroline pointed at a small drop of barbecue sauce on Jake's otherwise clean plate.

He lifted his chin at her, picked up the plate, and licked off the last bit of sauce.

"Nice table manners," she said in a snarky voice, but then she picked up her lemonade and slurped it nosily, wiped her chin with her fist, and belched.

Jake burst out laughing and Caroline joined in, along with everyone who'd watched their exchange.

Noreen clapped her hands for quiet just as their laughter faded. "A few short announcements and then you can bring your dishes in. First, we need a bunch of volunteers to take turns cranking the ice cream makers, so we can all have dessert in time for the movie. We'll bring the fixings out as soon as the tables are cleared. For those of you who may not have heard, the movie tonight is _Napoleon Dynamite_." There was loud cheering and some groans. "Just a reminder – parents will start arriving the day after tomorrow. We don't have a lot of extra room, so some will be doubling up in the empty cabins, others will share cabins with the counselors, and a few have chosen to stay at the motel in town." There was a lot of murmuring from the campers. Dara, for one, couldn't imagine her father sharing a cabin with anyone else... that is, if he came.

"Oh, and if you're wondering what kind of ice cream, we'll have 3 flavors; fresh peach, and by special request, chocolate and also blueberry." Noreen walked away toward the kitchen and the noise rose again as talking resumed, benches scraped, and plates and utensils clattered.

"Will somebody _please_ take over?" Corinne moaned. "My arm is about to fall off."

Toby looked through the window at the clock inside the lodge. "You've been at it for a little less than 2 minutes."

"Yeah, but it's gotten a lot harder to crank. It was easy when you were doing it."

"Stop your whinging and move over," Jim commanded, softening his words by taking her hand from the crank and helping her up. He sat down in her place and began vigorously turning the crank.

"Show off," she commented, admiring the muscles in his arms and back as he worked.

Toby dropped more ice into the bucket and Sean sprinkled rock salt over it. "We have an electric one at home," Sean said. "You still have to feed it ice and salt, but you don't have to crank." He leaned forward, watching the churning creamy mass through the plastic lid.

Ron came over and peered down. "How's it coming?"

"Harder, but not done yet," Jim responded.

"You guys got the blueberry," he said, mesmerized by the purplish cream swirling inside the cream can. "I'm following you in when it's done."

Toby smiled. "You like blueberry, too?"

"It's my second-best favorite."

"What's your favorite?" Sean asked.

"Bing Cherry. Have you had home-made ice cream with fresh sweet cherries?"

"Yeah, that's Patrick's favorite, too! We have a cherry tree back home. It's good, but I like peanut butter and Oreo better."

That got Corinne's attention. "Ooooh, that sounds good! I've never seen that in the store."

"I don't think it is. We sort of made it up."

"Sounds like a natural," Ron said.

Sean thought Jim was cranking more slowly. "You want me to take over?"

He nodded. "Definitely getting harder...We should put Corinne back on for the last bit; she can use her left arm this time."

He felt a soft punch in the ribs and let out a dramatic "ooof". Corinne flashed him a satisfied smile.

"Corinne, I heard from your dad," Ron stated. "Did you know he's bringing your little sister on Wednesday?"

"Uh-huh. I got a call from him and Allison texted me...my mom and step-dad aren't coming though, are they?" she added anxiously.

"Not that I've heard. And I should have heard by now. We did invite them."

Corinne nodded rapidly, kept nodding longer than necessary. "Well, no big deal. It's not like I expected her to come, especially if my dad's going to be here, and who knows what my step-dad has planned, he probably has some important..." she ran on, as Toby watched in fascination and Sean kept cranking. Jim finally reached out and put a hand on her arm and she stopped talking immediately. She was breathing hard, looking from Jim to Ron. Taking a deep breath, she started again, this time at normal speed.

"Part of me wants them to come and another part doesn't. I think, mostly I don't want them to come. It's better for me if it's just my dad and Allison. I'd rather talk to my mom after I get home...and my step-dad, well, him I'll just put up with, whenever I _have_ to see him."

Ron nodded his understanding. He waited a few seconds, then asked "Do you want to take a turn at the crank? Work off some of that energy?"

Jim, Sean, and Toby all laughed.

"No, thank you," she replied sweetly, while casting the puke-eye at the boys.

"It's done anyway," Sean put in.

He stopped turning the crank, and took it off. Ron carefully pulled off the lid and Jim lifted the dasher a couple of inches out of the can. There was a lot of "ooohing". It looked perfect. Jim dropped the dasher back down and Ron replaced the lid.

"Let's get this back to the kitchen."

They carried it through the swinging door and saw a group gathered around two other ice cream makers. Peach and chocolate were also done.

"Thank you, thank you," Noreen said, bustling around with a stack of bowls. I'd like 3 of you to stay and start scooping, if you don't mind, and the rest can go out and get ready for the movie."

People filed out slowly, reluctant to leave the ice cream.

As LaFawnduh and Kip rode away and the screen went black, Jim looked down at Patrick. "Did I miss something? Was that untranslatable into Australian or was everyone in that movie insane?"

"Certifiable."

Sean leaned forward from the seat on the other side of Patrick. "Napoleon's elevator doesn't go all the way to the top."

"He's not the sharpest pencil in the box," added Patrick.

Corinne laughed. "His river doesn't flow all the way to the sea."

Jim grimaced. "He has kangaroos loose in the top paddock."

Patrick clapped his hands. "Can't top that one, man." He high-fived Jim.

"Seriously, that movie was popular years ago?"

"Huge."

Jim shook his head, baffled. "The dance was funny, anyway." He turned around to address Caroline. "You did it exactly right, when you were showing us before."

"Thanks!"

"I don't even know why that movie makes me laugh, but it does," put in Jake.

Jim shook his head again. "I don't know why it makes you laugh, either."

Ron turned the television off. "Tomorrow will be your last full day before parents arrive. We won't have any classes, you can do whatever you feel like doing. I know some of you will be working on skits for the show. Cal said we should have bread from his adobe oven for dinner. And the pool will be open an extra hour tomorrow night."

There were a few cheers.

"Goodnight, all!"

Chapter 23

Manna

Dara came out of the bathroom with her hair up in a towel. She walked to her bunk, bent over, and grabbed the towel as it fell, rubbing her hair to get most of the water out.

Corinne and Caroline watched her comb it smooth. "How do you keep your hair from turning green?" Caroline asked. "You're in chlorine all the time."

"Oh, I've had green hair a bunch of times. A lot depends on how the water's treated, I mean chemicals, how much chlorine, and the metals in the water. I've heard all kinds of things to do for green hair – wash it in lemon juice, tomato juice, tomato paste, crushed aspirin, baking soda...I put conditioner on before I swim and I always wear a cap, unless I'm just messing around. That usually works, and if I do get green, there's a special shampoo that helps get the green out."

"I think it would be cool to have green hair!" Corinne declared.

"Of course you do!" Caroline laughed. "I think I'd rather have green hair than shampoo with tomato paste, anyway."

"Well, hurry up with your gorgeous hair and we'll get started on the pedicures. Do you want _Blue Frost_ , _Grapetin_ i, or _Purple Passion_? _Classic Coral Crème_? _Always Sheer Camisole_?"

"What color is _Always Sheer Camisole_?"

"Hmmm. Kind of light pink, I guess."

"How much nail polish did you bring?" Caroline asked, astonished at the array of tiny bottles Corinne had lined up on the table.

Dara came over and sat down on the bunk next to Caroline. She reached out and picked up a bottle. "I like this one. _Beach Blue_."

Caroline examined the colors again. She had never painted her toes before. It had seemed like a waste of time, but with Corinne and Dara, it sounded like fun.

"No, no!" Corinne exclaimed, taking the bottles from their hands. She handed Caroline something that looked like a goose egg.

There was a flat side to the "egg", and when Caroline turned it over, she saw that it said "PedEgg". She pulled the two halves apart and noticed what looked like a cheese grater on the underside of one of the halves.

"Oh, I've seen those!" Dara said. "There for taking dead skin off your heels."

Corinne nodded, took the egg, and demonstrated on her own already-smooth heels. "We'll get started with this." She reached down into the biggest make-up case Dara had ever seen. It was covered in geometric designs of purple, red, blue, and pink, and the zipper pulls were enameled red lips and red lipsticks.

Corinne pulled out a smaller zippered case and opened it to reveal a tool kit a surgeon might envy. The girls glanced at each other uncertainly, while Corinne sighed happily.

After their feet were shaved, sanded, scrubbed, and soaked, nails trimmed, filed, and smoothed, and cuticles moisturized, pushed back, and cleaned up, Corinne allowed them to apply a base coat. She began on her own toes, but after critically surveying Dara's and Caroline's work, shook her head and took over for both of them. Dara and Caroline sat back against the wall with their feet propped on the table, under strict instructions not to move an inch, while Corinne labored over their toes.

Twenty minutes later, while Dara admired her _Beach Blue_ toes, Caroline was surprised how much she enjoyed looking at Purple Passion nails against her turquoise flip-flops. Corinne was finishing up her own toes, applying topcoat to the last one. She sat back, replacing the brush in the bottle and screwing it tightly closed. Of the six colors she had brought with her to camp, she was wearing six colors. Her little toes were _Beach Blue_ , the big toes were _Grapetin_ i, and the rest of her toes had a mix of the other 4 colors.

"What are we going to do for the rest of the day?" Caroline asked lazily. "I've got to work on that skit in awhile, but that won't take long."

"Make bread with Cal, later. Swim. Other than that...I don't know." Corinne stretched her arms above her head, yawning.

Dara stared blankly at her toes. "What are you and Jim going to do?" she asked suddenly, coming out of her trance.

"Oh, he's in on that skit, too. Then we're hanging out by the pool after lunch."

"No, I mean, what are you going to do when camp is over? He lives in Australia and you live in Texas!"

Corinne smiled ruefully. "Yeah, nothing like a long-distance relationship." She ran her hands through her curly blonde hair, making it stand out even more. "We've talked about it some. He usually comes here once a year, but that's it. And I don't have any plans to visit Australia anytime soon." She added wryly. "So, we're left with email, maybe some phone calls and texting, if we can figure out a way to do it so it doesn't cost too much. Maybe Skype. And we'll see..."

Dara nodded.

"You know, my mom flaked out on us, but my dad's pretty cool, even though he's a guy. I mean, he still freaks when I ask him to buy tampons, stuff like that, but he helps me, too." She picked at a minute speck of polish next to the nail on her big toe. "One time, I was so depressed about this guy I liked...well, he dumped me when my mom ran off with the idiot vice-principal and _everybody_ was gossiping about it." She was pleased to notice that she could talk about it now without cringing, without wanting to somehow run away as far and as fast as she could. "Anyway, besides saying the guy was a worthless jerk if he wouldn't stand by me..."

Dara and Caroline clapped their approval.

"...my dad said that relationships at my age are usually just practice swings, like in baseball. You don't usually marry the person you date in junior high, or even high school. You still have the same feelings and it can hurt, but it's really practice for later on. He said he read it in a *chick book, if you can believe that, and it stuck with him. It kinda makes sense to me, too."

She folded her lips and leaned back against the wall. "So, I know Jim's probably like a practice swing, but I'd really like to stay friends with him, at least. He's...special...different." Corinne looked directly at Dara. "What about you and Drew? Idaho and California?"

"He's promised to keep in touch." Her eyes softened. "He said he wants me to know I can talk to him whenever I want, especially if my dad's been "bullying" me...he thinks my dad's a bully."

Caroline and Corinne looked at each other.

"What would you call it? What he does?"

Dara brushed a fingertip over the smooth surface of one of her newly painted nails and Corinne swatted her hand away. She laughed shortly, then sobered.

"I actually looked it up in the dictionary. I mean, I know what "bully" means, but I wanted to see the definition anyway. You know how sometimes when you look up one word it leads you to another, and then another one?"

Corinne looked at her uncomprehendingly, but Caroline nodded slowly.

"I like to write, I like words," she admitted sheepishly. "Anyway, the word that seems to fit the best is _oppress_ , meaning to keep down and to make anxious or uncomfortable," she quoted. Heaving a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders. "That's my dad."

"Drew always keeps his word, so you can count on him, Dara, like he said." Caroline patted her arm. "And you've got me, too."

"And me!" put in Corinne.

"Thanks. I really mean that. I think having someone to talk to about it, someone who understands...will make a big difference. You know, I used to think my dad would be happy if I was good enough in swimming...like if I was the best, then he'd relax and...and be nice...and show he loves us. Now, I think he's a real "put down" kind of guy. And whether I swim great or mess up big time, it won't change the way he is."

"Wow. That's pretty harsh."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

* _Faking It, by Jennifer Crusie_

Toby put his hand close to the oven's surface, but didn't touch. He could feel the heat, as he watched a thin curl of smoke rising through the can in the roof.

"What do you do, let the fire die down, then put in the bread?" he asked Cal.

Cal wiped his forehead with the back of one gloved hand. "This is just a starter fire. You build a little one first so the walls don't crack. We'll start a bigger fire later and let it burn for about an hour, then put the dough in the oven." He bent down to the open oven door and used a small black broom to brush the coals and ashes into an old coffee can.

"Do you want to help me make the bread? He squeezed Toby's bicep. "You look like you could do some excellent kneading."

Toby lifted up his arm and flexed his muscle, with no noticeable effect. "Bring it on."

Cal laughed, and they headed over to the kitchen. Corinne caught up with them just as they were taking the dough out of the big industrial mixer. "Just in time. We'll knead it a bit by hand before we let it rest." He looked down and noticed Corinne's feet.

"Nice nails."

"Thank you!" she beamed.

Toby was punching down the last ball of dough when Sean, Patrick, and Caroline strolled through the kitchen door. He had a small smudge of flour on his right cheek. Corinne had flour on her face and arms, and in her hair.

"We're starved!" Patrick claimed to no one in particular. He walked over to Toby. "Is that edible yet?"

Toby held up the dough.

"Guess not." He turned in a circle, making Geiger counter noises, as he searched for food.

Sean opened the refrigerator and took out some sliced Muenster cheese, and Caroline took down a box of Triscuits and a box of Wheat Thins from the shelf.

"You guys want some cheese and crackers?" Sean asked the others.

Toby had finished with the last ball of dough. He set it down next to the rest and Cal covered them with towels. "Sure," Cal answered. "We can have a quick snack, then I need to get out there and build a big fire in the oven."

Sean's eyes lit up. "Sweet! Can we help?"

Fortified with cheese, crackers, and fruit, they all trooped out to the oven. Sean and Patrick made a good Boy Scout tepee of kindling inside the oven, and Toby added a modern touch using a long-handled butane lighter to get it started. They watched the kindling catch, the age-old fascination with fire holding them entranced. Patrick and Sean piled on bigger pieces of wood as the flames rose higher, and Caroline was thinking they should have brought out a bag of marshmallows and some hangers. And chocolate. And graham crackers. Had she known, Corinne was thinking along much the same lines.

"That's enough, I think," Cal said. "It's got to burn for an hour or so, then we can sweep it out and put the bread in. Do you want to come back in an hour, or do you just want to try some of the bread at dinner?"

Sean and Patrick looked at each other, then at the other three.

"We could go play lacrosse for an hour," Patrick suggested.

The others didn't look thrilled.

"Or not," Patrick added, watching their faces.

Caroline grinned at Patrick. "Why don't you and Sean go play, and we'll meet you back here?"

"OK. Sean?"

Sean nodded and he and Patrick took off to get the equipment, shouting a quick good-bye to Cal over their shoulders.

"Let's go find Dara," Toby said, predictably.

"She's with Drew," Caroline informed him.

His face fell. "Hey, what are we, yesterday's meatloaf?" Corinne demanded, grabbing him by the back of the neck and giving him a little shake.

He knocked her hand away, but laughed. "Let's go find Rocky, then. Cal said he was off chasing squirrels by the pond."

They returned roughly an hour later, to find Sean and Patrick already standing by the oven. Rocky ran ahead, racing around Cal with a joyous bark, leaping on Sean, then Patrick, then prancing back to the other three, ears flattened and 3-inch long tail vibrating.

"You look like you've had a good morning!" Cal told him, reaching down to pat his back. Rocky smiled up at him, doggie delight evident.

Cal used the broom once again to sweep out the coals and ashes. The balls of dough were sitting on a tray on top of a stump. He grabbed a flat wooden paddle and handed it to Corinne. "You want to do the honors?"

She tried not to show how happy it made her, but a grin broke through. Accepting the paddle, she scooped up a dough ball and transferred it to the oven. When all six were cozy inside, Cal closed the door and stopped up the smoke hole with a rag.

"How about a little volleyball while these are baking?" He had planned ahead and brought the ball and a cooler of drinks.

Toby, Patrick, and Sean were on one side, Cal, Corinne, and Caroline on the other. Corinne sent her first serve not over the net, but sideways into the trees. Rocky had been near the line of fire, and he wisely retreated to a spot well behind the court.

Toby ran to retrieve the ball, and when he came back, Jim and Jake had come down from the lodge. They split up, with Jim on Corinne's team and Jake on Toby's.

Corinne got ready to serve again, even more self-conscious than she'd been before.

"Watch it, Jim!" Patrick called out. "Wild server over there!"

Corinne narrowed her eyes at him, cocked her arm back, and sent the ball sailing over the net directly at Patrick. It surprised her almost as much as him, and he was late in reacting. He caught only the very edge of the ball and it flew out of bounds.

Corinne tried not to look smug, but was unsuccessful. Various good-natured threats and trash talk went back and forth as they played, until they began to smell the bread.

"Oh, man...that smell!" Jake sniffed loudly. "Is it done yet?"

Cal shook his head. "Not yet, I don't think. It's hard to say, because it's not like you can set it for a certain temperature. I'll check it in ten minutes and we'll see."

They tried to play for a while longer, but the smell distracted them. They finally quit, helped themselves to drinks from the cooler, and sat down in the shade. Rocky approached Corinne, flopped down beside her and rested his chin in her lap.

"Hey there, Rockman, howzitgoin'?" She gently pulled one long ear and then the other, and he once again rolled to his side to give her access to his belly. She obliged with a good belly rub, while Rocky braced himself with a paw on her knee.

"Do you have a dog at home?" Jim asked, watching her smile at Rocky.

She nodded. "Uh huh. He's a Cairn terrier, with attitude."

Toby frowned. "What kind is that? What does he look like?"

"It's the same kind of dog as Toto in the Wizard of Oz."

"Now you've done it," Sean groaned, as Patrick's eyes lit up.

"That dog's a menace to the community. I'm taking him to the sheriff to make sure he's destroyed," Patrick began in the Wicked Witches' voice, then switched to Dorothy. "Destroyed? Toto? Oh, you can't! You mustn't! Auntie Em, Uncle Henry, you won't let her, will ya?"

Sean kicked out at him, landing a blow on Patrick's shoe.

"I'll get you anyway, Pee-wee," the Cowardly Lion's voice said, as Patrick put a head-lock on his brother.

"OK, OK!" Sean pleaded, pulling at his arm.

Patrick subsided, with some difficulty. The Wizard of Oz was one of his favorites, and a rich mine of excellent voices.

"What's your dog's name?" Toby was finally able to ask Corinne. "Mine's Rufus."

"Rufus is a good name," Corinne said. "My aunt named my dog before she gave him to us and...well, she really liked that game show, _The Price is Right_ , so she named him...Bob the Barker."

Cal burst out laughing, while the others looked puzzled.

"The host's name was Bob Barker...get it?" Corinne explained.

Toby laughed then. "I like Bob the Barker!"

"Yeah, it grows on you," Corinne agreed with a grin.

"Jim!" a voice called from a little way up the hill.

Jim's head shot up, a smile spread slowly across his face, and he leaped to his feet.

Noreen was walking down the hill with another lady who was shorter and a little broader, her sandy brown-blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail.

"Mum!" He strode forward and grabbed her in a bear hug. She hugged him back, and laughing, took his face between her hands and gave him a smacking kiss.

"There, did I embarrass you enough, chooky?"

"Not until you called me chooky."

Toby looked from one to the other, trying and failing to see a family resemblance, except maybe for the hair. "What's a chooky?"

"You don't want to know," Jim said solemnly before she could answer.

"It's a term of endearment," she went on anyway..."it means..."

"Means heart of a lion," Jim put in quickly.

She shook her head at him and before she could explain further, he said, "You're early! I thought you wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

"The flight worked out better if I arrived today, so here I am. I won't interfere with you tonight, promise. Just do whatever you were going to do, and I'll be with Noreen and Cal and everyone."

"That's right, Nicky can be with us." Noreen gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze, and sniffed the air appreciatively. "Cal, you are a genius. It smells amazing."

"They should be just about ready. I should check them." Cal had hoisted himself off the ground when he saw Jim's mother. He gave her a hug. "Good to see you, Nicky."

"And you, as well...Nice boardies," she teased, tugging on the leg of his baggy, gecko-covered boardshorts.

"Too conservative, almost boring, but good for baking bread," he answered seriously. "You want to hear a joke?"

"No!" a half dozen voices responded as one.

She chuckled. "I'd like to see this bread, anyway, and the famous oven Noreen's been telling me about. But first, I want to meet everyone." She turned to Toby and held out her hand. "I'm Nicky, Jim's mum, though you probably already know that part."

Toby shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you Mrs...I mean..." he faltered.

"Roberts. But Nicky will do."

"Nicky," Toby repeated with a shy smile.

Jim took Corinne's hand and pulled her forward. "This is Corinne." He thought of so many things he could add, that she was brave and true, that she babbled when she was nervous, that she wore wild clothes with her head held high, and had the kindest heart...He didn't say any of it, just presented her to his mother with a happy grin.

Corinne thought she just might pass out or throw up from nervousness. No, maybe have diarrhea, then throw up. No, more like have diarrhea, throw up, and pass out. At least she was shaking instead of babbling. Shaking was better than babbling, right? Why am I so nervous about meeting his mom? There's nothing to be nervous about, she told herself, just shy of hyperventilating.

Nicky interrupted her thoughts, giving her a quick hug. "So happy to meet you." She spared a quick, shrewd glance for Jim, and focused on Corinne again. "You have such lovely curly hair. I always wanted hair like that." She held up her ponytail. "Mine is stick-straight, no matter what I do to it."

"Bet I could make it curl," Corinne ventured. "I have this super holding gel and I gave Toby a faux-hawk," she began, then picked up speed, "and if I can make his hair stand up, I can probably get some curls to stay in your hair, for awhile, anyway." She stopped talking with a gulp, and Jim grabbed her hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Jake stood in the shadows, but Jim's gaze found him, and he stepped forward.

"Mum, this is Jake."

"Oh, Jim sent me some texts about you!" Nicky exclaimed. "I'm glad you've become friends. You make him laugh, and he loves people who make him laugh."

"I do?" said Jake, amazed.

Jim laughed. "See?"

Jake shook her hand, and Jim introduced the others.

Cal led them up the hill to the oven, where Jim's mother was properly impressed with their achievement. He used the broom to open the oven door, and shoving the paddle under one of the loaves, brought it out for inspection. The fragrant loaf was golden brown and everyone ooohed over it.

He tapped it with a finger and smiled with satisfaction at the hollow sound. "Done!" Setting it down on the tray, he reached in and brought the others out, one by one. "I say we take these to the kitchen and split a loaf between us; the rest we'll need to save for everyone else for dinner.

This suggestion was met with hearty approval and they followed Cal like rats after the pied piper.

Chapter 24

Just for Fun

"Don't tell Cal, but I like the cornbread better," Jake whispered as he licked melted butter off the side of his hand. "This stuff's good, but..." He shrugged.

" I think it's fantastic!" Corinne said, reaching past Jake to pluck another small slice out of the basket.

"I like this better, too," put in Caroline, "but the cornbread's a close second."

There were nine of them grouped at one end of the table, and besides bread, they were feasting on barbecued chicken, beans, veggie kabobs, and a tomato, corn, and avocado salad. Caroline kept pace with Jake in the eating department, Sean and Patrick were heatedly discussing the rival merits of various lacrosse sticks, and Corinne, Jim, and Toby made plans for putting that evening's extended pool hours to good use. Drew and Dara were talking quietly, happy in each other's company and wanting to make the most of the time they had together.

Drew caught a bit of Toby's conversation with Jim and Corinne, and looked up. "Is everyone going to the pool after this?"

Jake nodded, chewing fast, and Caroline managed a murmured "uh hungh" while she worked on a sticky chicken thigh.

"We're in," Sean pointed at himself and Patrick.

Drew looked at Dara questioningly and she nodded. It didn't matter much where they were or what they did. She just wanted to spend this last night with her friends. Tomorrow would be different.

Drew understood. "I guess we're in, too."

Jim glanced at his mother, sitting across the room with some of the counselors. She had known a number of them for years and they were good friends. His family usually came to the States every year, almost always stopping here for at least a short visit. Cal had stayed with them in Australia while he was on a surf trip, and Shelley usually visited every couple of years for a week or two. They had known Jim since he could barely walk.

Nicky saw him looking and gave him a smile and a little wave. He got up and jogged over to her to say goodnight, since he'd be at the pool after dinner and wouldn't see her again until the morning.

Corinne watched him go, wishing she got along that good with her mother. She sighed. At least she was tight with her dad and her sister. Jim trotted back to sit down beside her and her world got a little brighter.

Patrick floated peacefully on his back in the deep end, long toes sticking up out of the water like popsicle sticks. Toby dog-paddled up to him.

"Did you guys finish your stuff for the show?"

Patrick didn't hear; his ears were underwater and he was concentrating on the stars, having spotted a constellation that looked like the slinky dog in Toy Story.

Sean, treading water nearby, answered for him. "Yup. It's going to be so cool. Wait 'til you see Caroline do her dance."

Toby paddled in a circle, searching for Caroline, and saw her bobbing up and down on a noodle next to Corinne and Dara. He swung back around to Sean. "Teddy and I are doing one, too. A skit, I mean, not a dance."

"What are you going to do?"

Toby looked mischievous, cat eyes sparkling in reflected light from the water. "You'll see."

Another group of kids came through the gate and Patrick's peace was interrupted by hurrying feet, followed by a series of huge splashes as a couple of people came down the slide and another did a cannonball off the diving board. Patrick came up spluttering, wiping water from his eyes. "Guess everyone wants to use the pool tonight. I'll show 'em how a cannonball is supposed to be done." He pulled himself out of the water and headed for the diving board. Toby and Sean swam backwards toward the shallow end so they could watch.

As the evening wore on, the pool cleared out again. "On three. One, two, three!" Drew shouted.

They raced toward the deep end, Jake, Drew, and Jim pulling Caroline, Dara, and Corinne, respectively. Each girl straddled a noodle and was not allowed to help by kicking, paddling, or any other means. Drew and Jim had the advantage over Jake, both in size and swimming ability, but Jake was holding his own through sheer determination. It also helped that the noodle slipped through Drew's hand and he had to grab the wildly waving end before he could go forward again. Corinne fell off, inhaled a mouthful of pool water and went into a coughing fit while trying to get back on her noodle, and that slowed Jim down considerably.

Jake yelled in triumph, touched the edge, and spun Caroline around to head back to the finish line. Drew had regained his hold on the noodle and was picking up speed, gliding through the water with powerful one-armed strokes. Corinne was gasping, but upright on her noodle, and Jim was making up lost ground, or water, fast.

Feet kicking furiously, Jake put everything he had into reaching the finish before Jim and Drew. It seemed impossible that he could hold onto his lead, but with his final stroke, he felt the rough edge of the plaster beneath his fingertips, one second ahead of Drew, and two ahead of Jim.

"Yes!" He shouted, slapping the water with his open palm. He turned to Caroline and they shared an exuberant high-five.

Caroline threw both arms up in the air and yelled his name, and Jake felt the thrill of victory like never before. Jim and Drew waded over and dunked him, and he surfaced with the same joyful smile he'd been wearing when he went under.

They were joined by Patrick, Sean, and Toby, and the races continued with variations on riders and pullers. Patrick claimed, illogically, that the yellow noodle was the fastest. Corinne was shocked when she actually won a heat; despite her skill, Dara was handicapped by Drew's weight, and Sean was disqualified when he leapt off his noodle and beaned Patrick with it in retaliation for a misplaced kick. Toby teamed with Jim to win another heat. He was now thinking that given his small size and large lungs, he'd make a fine coxswain. Nobody else knew what a coxswain was, so he had to explain. His dad had sculled for Yale and later, for a team that competed in the Olympics. They had placed fifth, so he didn't get a medal, but his Dad always said being in the Olympics was one of the best experiences he'd ever had. Probably, riding the noodle was a little different from sitting in a scull, but Toby figured he could do it, no problem.

Exhausted, they all squeezed into the Jacuzzi, letting the warmth seep in, sighing with contentment. Someone turned the bubbles on high, but it was so loud they couldn't hear each other talk. Sean reached over and turned the bubbles back down, and the first thing he heard was Jake suggesting a run on the kitchen.

"Are you _always_ hungry?" Corinne demanded.

"I thought it was a great idea!" Caroline said with conviction.

Dara looked from Caroline to Jake and shook her head.

"Kitchen's closed and so's the pool area in another 15 minutes." Ron walked out of the gym, with Shelley beside him, carrying a water testing kit.

Everyone groaned. "Come on, it's our last night of freedom!" someone pleaded.

"Pathetic." Ron commented to Shelley.

"I thought they had more imagination. That's so sad." She shrugged.

"We thank you with enormous gratitude for chasing away the foosa," Patrick intoned in an Indian accent.

"Better," Ron smiled. "What was that one from?"

"King Julian. King of the lemurs in _Madagascar_.

"Thank you. You still have to get out in 15 minutes."

Patrick rolled his eyes.

Shelley squatted down at the pool's edge, opened the kit, and took out a test tube. Ron looked around the deck area, seemingly hit by an explosion of noodles. He turned back to the group in the Jacuzzi, but before he opened his mouth, Jim said "We'll straighten up."

"If we clean up, can we stay a little longer?" Caroline wheedled.

Ron raised both eyebrows and didn't say anything.

"Right, we clean up anyway."

A corner of his mouth quirked up, and he nodded. "Thanks."

He moved closer to Shelley and taking the tube from her, reached his arm deep into the water to fill it.

"Time to shower up, I guess," Sean sighed, but instead of getting out, he sank deeper into the water.

"So, parents tomorrow. What will they _do_ all day?" Patrick mused.

"I heard Noreen say they're going to have mini-sessions of the classes for them, like Get Real and Dream Working. Just the parents, not us." Toby thought his parents would like the classes. They were interested in just about everything.

"I can't imagine my dad in those classes," Dara confessed. "He probably won't do it...maybe won't let my mom do it, either."

There was silence for a minute or two. Drew finally pulled his gaze away from the swirling water and met Dara's eyes squarely. "It doesn't matter what he does. You know what he's like, and there's nothing you can do about it except concentrate on who _you_ are and what _you_ want."

"Drew's right," agreed Jim. "He's your dad and you have to live with him, for now. But seeing his behavior for what it is, that should help you deal with it better."

Dara nodded. "It already feels better. At least now I'm not wondering if it's something I'm doing or not doing, or if he'd be different if I was better...I wish I could help my mom, though." She lifted her hand up through a drift of frothy bubbles and watched them pop and disappear.

"Maybe you will be able to," comforted Caroline. "My mom, on the other hand, is going to eat this stuff up. She's a counselor and she's always taking classes and reading books on how people act."

"Yeah, and dad's probably going to demand scientific evidence, especially on the Magic stuff," Drew added.

Jake had been quiet, but he suddenly spoke up. "I think my mom will like it. My dad won't come." He said it without emotion; on the inside, he felt a small twinge, but he let it go with a sigh and a nod. "I want my mom to meet all of you...to show her that I...I'm not a total loser."

Jim started to speak, but Patrick began making Darth Vader heavy breathing noises. "I find your lack of faith disturbing," he said, before switching to Yoda. "Strong in the Force you are...and friends you have here." Patrick held out a fist and Jake met it with a fist bump.

The quiet settled in again until Corinne shook her head, saying, "Nah, I liked him better the way he was when he first got here...cocky, stuck up, mean, mad at everybody..." That was as far as she got before Jake splashed her with water, which started a general water fight that expended the last of their energy and left them all dripping.

Corinne pushed a heavy lock of wet hair off her forehead. " I guess I'll show my sister around while my dad goes to class. My mom's not coming. It might be good for her if she did come, but I'm really glad my step-dad won't be here."

The others nodded, almost too tired to speak. Jim reluctantly pushed himself up to stand. He held a hand down to Corinne and she grabbed it gratefully. Patrick stood, with a groan, and pulled Toby up.

"We can lock up after these old folks make it out of the Jacuzzi," Ron commented to Shelley. She laughed, watching the kids move slowly down the deck toward the gate.

Patrick had enough left in him for a parting shot. "You better be nice to us...we'll be the ones taking care of you when you're old, you know."

"Now, there's a frightening thought," Ron retorted. "You need some help getting to your cabin, old man?"

Patrick shook his head and flapped an arm at him, yawning hugely.

Ron laughed. "Goodnight y'awl."

There were some tired murmurs in response as they disappeared through the gate.

Chapter 25

Company

There were undercurrents of excitement and uncertainty at breakfast. Some who had not been in the least homesick were now anxious to see their parents. Others wondered what would happen when their parents arrived. Many felt the first glimmerings of sadness over the fast approaching end of their stay and the realization that they'd soon be leaving new friends. Still others were worried about performing in front of all the parents.

Bowls of oatmeal, mounds of scrambled eggs, stacks of toast, baskets of fat, sweet strawberries, and platters of cantaloupe slices were consumed, but it was quieter than usual. No one was making plans for the day, no one was deciding whether to go horseback riding or hiking, swim or play baseball or volleyball or lacrosse, read or watch a movie or listen to tunes; all were waiting on the expected visitors to find out what the day would hold.

At the end of breakfast, Noreen told them about the mini-sessions, stating these would be optional for all parents, but strongly encouraged. They wanted the parents to get a taste of what their kids had experienced while at camp. Before and after the sessions, parents would be free to wander around with their kids as guides, to take part in whatever activities they wanted and to meet friends and other parents. After dinner, they would end the way they began, with a big campfire, s'mores, singing, storytelling, and hopefully, lots of laughter. The next day would be another mini-session and more free time until the evening's entertainment. The last official camp get-together would be breakfast Friday morning. People would start leaving after the meal.

Drew's fingers were laced with Dara's under the table. She had barely touched her food or said more than a few words. He gave her what comfort he could with the reassuring touch of his hand.

"Hey, Caroline, would you pass me the eggs?" Jake's appetite was unimpaired.

Caroline picked up the bowl and stared at him without handing it over.

"What?"

She continued to hold the bowl out of reach, waiting.

"Please?" he ventured.

She passed the bowl with a smile.

"I thought you just wanted to eat it all yourself," he said, spooning a large helping onto his plate.

The smile disappeared, "Jake, you...you..."

"I know," he sympathized. "Want some strawberries?" He held the basket out as a peace offering, and she accepted it, but couldn't resist throwing a small strawberry at him.

It bounced off his shirt with a splat, but since he had chosen to wear a t-shirt with swirls of color instead of his usual black, the red mark blended right in. Jake didn't retaliate other than to comment "So juvenile!", making a tsk tsk sound.

Caroline threatened him with another strawberry, but decided the wiser course would be to ignore him.

"You know, you two act more like brother and sister than you and Drew," Corinne told Caroline.

Drew laughed. "Hey, I think she's right. Jake, if you want to know how to really piss her off, I've got lots of ideas."

Jake nodded, a spark of interest in his eyes, and continued eating, while Caroline gave her brother the puke eye.

"When are your dad and sister getting here?" Jim asked Corinne.

"My dad sent me a text last night. They should be here right after breakfast."

He noticed she left it at that, no babbling, no racing speech. And she wore what, for her, was a relatively tame outfit of brown flip-flops, orange plaid shorts, and a turquoise t-shirt printed with neon–colored frogs, a skinny purple headband holding back her curls. His heart swelled with pride and affection.

People began standing up and hauling their empty plates and bowls to the passthrough. Dara dawdled, and Jake offered to take her plate in with his. She thanked him with a smile that disappeared almost before it began, too nervous to speak. Drew pulled her out the door, intending to take her on a short hike to burn off some nervous energy. As soon as they cleared the arbor, they saw a dark blue Honda CRV pull up to the lodge. They didn't recognize the man who got out of the driver's seat, but the slender girl with the wild blonde curls was a small clone of Corinne. Seeing her made Dara smile for a moment, before she turned toward the sun, following Drew along the path to the ball field.

Ron had been watching through the lodge office window for the first arrivals, and had seen the Honda pull up. He strode out of the building and greeted Corinne's dad and little sister.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Pavlicek."

"It's Tom, please."

"Tom, then." Ron shook his hand and turned to the girl. "You can't be Corinne's sister. There's no family resemblance at all. Are you a friend of the family?"

Allison grinned, shaking her head. She was all too used to people telling her she was a "carbon copy" of her big sister.

"I'm Ron." He shook her hand, too. " You'll be sharing a cabin with the Taylor's. I'll help you with your bags."

They were unloading the back of the car when Corinne and Jim came out of the lodge and saw her family. "Allison!" She ran up to her sister, lifted her off the ground and spun her around before setting her back down on her purple high-tops.

"Rinny!" Small arms tightly clasped her neck and Corinne felt tears, warm and wet, her own and her sister's. She gave her a tight squeeze and straightened, turning to her dad.

He was watching her with a smile of such tenderness that her tears overflowed as she walked into his arms. "Don't ever go away again for so long, OK, not until you're at least thirty," he said wryly, holding her tight against him. He kissed the top of her curls and released her. It really wasn't that long since he'd seen her, but she looked different somehow. It reminded him of when she was a baby and he'd taken a 10-day trip to Mexico. When he came back, he stood over her crib and stared down at an 11-month-old Corinne, sleeping peacefully in her pink Cindy Lou Who pajamas with attached footies. Fine strawberry blonde curls brushed her collar and the sound of her soft breathing was balm to his soul. He remembered thinking, "Is she really mine? She looks so different...That's _my_ baby girl." The same sense of wonder and gratitude rushed through him again as he looked down at a more grown up Corinne.

Corinne dashed the tears from her cheeks. "Oh, Dad, this is Jim, my friend Jim."

Her dad saw a tall boy with streaky brown hair, whose eyes met his directly and who called him "Sir."

They shook hands and Mr. Pavlicek smiled. "This is Corinne's sister, Allison," he said, grasping her small hand and pulling her forward.

"I'd never have guessed," Jim responded, smiling down at Allison.

Mr. Pavlicek cocked his head as he heard Jim speak. "Australia?"

"Yes, sir. Brisbane."

"A great city. I spent some time in Australia years ago. Loved it."

Corinne looked up at her dad, shocked. He'd been to Australia? When had that happened? "When did you go to Australia? Why don't I know this?" she demanded.

"It was before your mother and I got married. I was only 20 and was traveling around in between junior college and going to the university."

"What did you do?" She couldn't imagine her dad just wandering around the world, couldn't imagine her dad at age 20.

"Oh, met new people, saw new things, surfed, ate different food..."

"Surfed?" Jim's ears perked up. "I thought you lived in north Texas."

"Now I don't get the chance much, but I grew up in Southern California."

Before Jim could pursue this interesting line of conversation, Corinne's dad pointed out that they were keeping Ron waiting. Jim grabbed one bag and Mr. Pavlicek picked up the other, and they followed Ron to a cabin on the other side of the lodge.

Toby was sitting on the stone wall that topped the hill and edged the parking lot. His parents said they'd arrive around 9:30a.m. and it was twenty after nine. As much fun as he'd had, he missed them like crazy. He swung his feet impatiently, willing the time to move faster, but no dust trail appeared to announce another arrival.

"Soon, huh?" Shelley boosted herself up onto the wall next to him. The rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker broke the silence and both of them searched the trees for the source.

"There." Toby pointed at the pine tree that towered above Drew and Jim's cabin.

Shelley focused on the trunk and finally saw a black and white shape with speckled wings, a small red patch visible on the back of his head. He rapped the trunk sharply, flitted up a couple of inches and rapped again.

Toby turned back to the road, saw dust swirling up, and finally heard gravel crunching under tires. It could be anyone, but...yes, it was his dad's car! He started to jump off the wall, then settled back, waiting until the car pulled up and his parents got out. He barely got off the wall in time to prevent being tipped over it backwards when his mom grabbed him into a hug. His dad hugged them both at the same time, and Toby didn't think he could smile any bigger.

"Are you past my chin now? How did you get taller in three weeks?" his mom exclaimed. Toby sucked in his breath and went up on his toes, bringing the top of his head up to her eye level. She laughed, pushing down on his shoulders. "It's going to be so strange when you're taller than me."

Toby was looking forward to it. Shelley, who was even shorter than Mrs. Parker, came up to stand beside Toby, measuring herself against him. "I've still got you beat."

"Not for long," Toby retorted.

'You got that right. Practically _everybody's_ taller than me."

She shook her head in mock regret and turned to Toby's parents. "Good to see you again, Mark, Patty," she said, nodding to each in turn. "You'll be staying with me. We can take your bags over there now, give you a chance to get settled in."

Mr. Curran collected a suitcase from the trunk and they all followed after Shelley.

Dara walked slowly beside Drew, retracing their route along the outskirts of the baseball field. She felt better, not quite so wound up, but still really nervous about her dad. What would he say? Would he be mean to her friends and would they hate her for it? They made their way up the hill and as the path curved, bringing the lodge into view, Dara spotted her parents standing by the arbor with Noreen. Her stomach plummeted to her shoes and her grip on Drew's hand tightened convulsively.

Drew followed her gaze and saw the people standing with Noreen. Dara obviously got her pale blonde hair from her mother and her height from her father. Instead of her easy grace, however, Drew noticed that her father's stance was rigid, like he had a ruler up his...Well, let's do this, he thought. He let go of Dara's hand in case her dad would give her grief about it, but stuck by her side.

"Mom. Dad." She stopped before her mother and was folded into a soft embrace. She pulled back before her mother was ready to let go, and turned to her father.

He put a hand on her shoulder and nodded to her. "Have you been practicing every day?"

Drew inhaled quickly, but managed not to say any of the things that ran through his mind.

"Yes, every day. It's going good," she answered. "Um, this is my friend, Drew. He and his sister are here from Idaho."

Mr. Sorensen turned his hard gaze on Drew. "Drew. You have a last name, Drew?"

"Parker, sir," Drew replied neutrally.

"It's so good to meet one of Dara's new friends," Mrs. Sorensen told him in her soft voice. "She's told us about you and your sister. It sounds like you've had lots of fun here."

"Jean, let's get back to the hotel," Dara's father broke in. "I want to set up my laptop and check in with Keebler."

Mrs. Sorensen smiled hesitantly. "I wanted to see you right away and let you know we're here. We'll be back in a bit, dear," she said to Dara. "We're having lunch with you and all the others."

Noreen stepped forward. "Yes, I think you'll enjoy the lunch. The cooks went all out today, and then afterwards we have some activities planned that will give you an idea of what Dara's been doing at camp."

The words chilled Dara, but her mother said she was looking forward to it. Her dad gave Noreen a perfunctory smile, nodded at Drew, patted Dara twice on the back, and got back into his rental car without another word.

Dara watched them drive off, afraid to turn back and meet Noreen's or Drew's gaze. When the car had disappeared and she couldn't put it off any longer, she turned around.

"What have you been talking about, Dara?" Drew asked, his voice puzzled. "I got the warm fuzzies just being around your dad," he claimed.

Noreen gave a bark of laughter, throwing an arm around Dara's shoulder and squeezing tight. "What did you notice about what just happened?" She looked at Dara's profile.

Dara leaned into the hug. Instead of clamming up, she gave it some thought. "Let's see...he didn't hug me, nothing different about that...he asked me about swimming, and didn't say he missed me or hoped I'd had fun or anything like that...he was rude to Drew...he was rude to my mom...and she let him...and he was rude to you...I guess that about covers it. And my mom was sweet to me. She always is." Dara shook her head slowly.

"That's pretty much what I noticed, too," Noreen said. "Do you think there's anything you can do to change your dad's behavior?"

Dara shook her head again. "No. I wish I could think of the right thing to say or do, but then I think there isn't anything. He's going to do what he's going to do."

"I agree. I think your dad can change if he wants to and I don't think you can change him. Let's try a little experiment. You be your dad and I'll be you, OK? Say something like your dad would say."

Dara pondered, and in a gruff voice, barked, "You'll never make it to the Olympics with that kind of sloppy work!"

Her imitation was so good it made Drew snort with laughter.

Noreen's brow puckered in worry. "I was trying really hard. I'm just tired from running track at school today, on top of swim practice."

"That's no excuse. You think Olympic champions get that way by whining about how tired they are?" she scoffed, and at odds with the words she used, she felt a smile begin.

"OK, I'll try to do better, really I will," Noreen said in a very small voice.

"Just see that you do!" ordered Dara, frowning, before she broke into a grin. "Wow, I see what he's doing!" she said excitedly.

"Great. Now, let's do it again, a little differently." She lifted her chin at Dara cueing her to begin.

"Oh...um, you'll never make it to the Olympics with that kind of sloppy work!"

"Yes, I'll have to work really hard to make it to the Olympics."

"Oh, well...see that you do!"

Noreen didn't respond for a moment, then asked Dara, "Do you see the difference? You can get sucked into his game or you can play your own. You can let him ping-pong you around, or you can be your own paddle, and choose where you want to go with it."

Dara was thinking hard. "This is going to take some practice."

"Undoubtedly," Noreen agreed. "Not getting sucked in to someone else's "stuff" is a fantastic skill to perfect. And I know you can do it."

"Of course she can do it!" Drew stated emphatically.

Dara felt a bubble of laughter inside and something akin to relief.

It was just before lunchtime when Shelley called out to Ron. "The van's here!"

He came around the desk and peered out the window. "Is this the second group from the airport?"

"Uh huh. Should be the twin's parents, the Parker's, and Jake's mom."

Ron was eager to meet all of the parents, but especially Jake's mother. He strode quickly out the door with Shelley, and they welcomed the new arrivals. The McConnells and the Parkers were bunking together in one of the empty cabins, and Shelley led them away to get situated before lunch. Mrs. Bridger, Jake's mom, would be staying with Noreen.

"How has Jake been?" she asked Ron anxiously. "He's not very communicative over the phone, but it didn't sound as if he's been unhappy here."

"No. No, I don't think he's been unhappy, but you'll have to see for yourself." He grinned at her. "I enjoy your son very much. He's bright and he has a great sense of humor."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, silent for a few moments. "I know that, but...well, lately, he hasn't shown that side of himself to many people. If you got him to feel comfortable enough to do that..." she trailed off.

"Oh, I don't think we made it at all comfortable for him. But he's faced down some things that were eating at him, in spite of not liking it one bit." He looked at her straightly. "It takes courage to do that, especially for a thirteen-year old boy who was in a lot of pain when he arrived."

Jake's mom sighed heavily. "I haven't known what to do for him. I tried talking to him, loving him, tough love, nothing I did seemed to get through...and I know he was hurting." She looked off down the hill briefly and turned back to face Ron. "His dad..." She folded her lips, searching for words.

"Jake told me."

"He did?" she exclaimed, shocked.

Ron nodded. "Wait until you read what he wrote in our Real World Magic class. He's a special kid, a special person."

Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back, nodding her agreement, unable to reply.

Ron touched her arm briefly and picked up her suitcase. "I'll show you to Noreen's cabin, Mrs. Bridger. She'll be happy to have some company for a couple of days."

"Please, call me Lacy. And I appreciate Noreen's willingness to share her cabin with me."

"Lacy Bridger," Ron said, testing the sound of it. "Great name. And Jake Bridger sounds like the name of one of those guys in a romance novel."

She laughed. "Not intentionally. And how would you know that, anyway?" she teased as they walked across the lawn. "Unless your taste in books runs to romance novels?"

Ron snorted. "My taste in literature is broad, but not that broad. No, I used to have a girlfriend who liked them and whenever I looked at a back cover, the guys all had names like "Colt" or "Raul".

"Raul?"

"Raul."

She laughed again, trying to remember if she had ever read a romance book in which the hero's name was Raul. She didn't think so.

They talked about books as they made their way to Noreen's cabin, finding some shared tastes despite differing on romance novels. She was much less anxious by the time she got to the cabin, and very eager to see Jake and give him the biggest hug ever.

Chapter 26

Lunch and Beyond

Jake was sandwiched between his mom and Jim. Nicky was on the other side of Jim, and across from them sat Corinne, her dad and little sister, and Toby and his parents. Jake slid a glance at his mom. She was talking with Toby's parents about the tour of the camp the kids had given them. He had seen her unhappy so much of the time that he hardly recognized her beaming face. Every once in awhile, she'd touch him on the arm or shoulder and smile.

He would never forget what it felt like when he first saw her at camp. Ron came to his cabin and got him, told him his mother had arrived, and led him over by the pond. She was standing there with Nicky and Noreen, listening intently to the other two, until Ron hailed them. She turned and spotted Ron first, then saw Jake beside him.

Jake had never seen anyone's face light up like that. She half ran to him, threw her arms wide, and with surprising strength, lifted him off the ground in a hug he could still feel. He hugged her back and did not want to let go. Eventually, they walked together back to his cabin because he wanted to show her two, no, three, of his most prized possessions from camp.

The first was the bois d'arc seed pod, which she exclaimed over, never having seen anything quite like it. The second was Drew's picture of the two Jakes. He heard her quick intake of breath as she studied the two figures.

"Amazing. I know both of these Jakes, but I haven't seen this one in a very long time." The tip of her index finger gently tapped the drawing on the right, where Jake #2 smiled and waved. "What...what does this mean to _you_?" she asked him.

"Freedom." He didn't know where the word came from, didn't know if it even made sense, but that's what came out.

Instead of asking him what he meant, his mother kissed him softly on the cheek.

He turned back to his duffle bag to retrieve another sheet of paper that had been carefully tucked into a side pocket. He was afraid for her to see it, and at the same time, determined.

"I went to this class, Real World Magic it was called, and Ron talked about magic and thinking about what you want and how to get what you want...well, I think you get to go to a class like that, too, while you're here. Maybe it would make more sense if you read this after you went to the class...," he babbled.

He held the paper out to her and she grasped it without taking her eyes off him. When he said nothing else, she finally looked down at the paper and began to read.

1. I love my dad, even though I know he's got problems that keep him from being a good dad to me.

2. It's not my fault that my dad is the way he is and I deserve a dad who treats me right.

She bent her knees and sank onto the bunk behind her, fingers over her mouth, as she continued to read.

3. I love my mom, A LOT.

4. I still want a dad in my life, even if he's not my real dad.

5. I'm willing for my mom to find someone great to love us both, someone who'll show he cares, want to do stuff with me, and will be like a real dad should.

"Jake..." she managed the one word, tears welling and overflowing. She grabbed him and held him close, stroking the back of his hair.

Even as he chewed and swallowed a mammoth bite of potato salad, Jake felt a warm rush of emotion when he thought of his mom's reaction.

"Jake?"

Jim kicked him under the table. "Ow! Huh, what?" He blinked and saw Mr. Curran watching him expectantly.

"Sorry, I didn't hear. Did you ask me something?"

"Yes. Your mother was telling me about the bois d'arc pod. I'd love to see where you found it, see if there are any more."

"Oh, there's lots more, but I think I got the biggest one. I'll show you if you want, though. It's not too far a hike, or we could take the horses, if Ron says it's OK...and comes with us to take care of the horses," he added.

"Hiking's fine with me." He looked at his wife and at Jake's mom, and they both nodded their agreement.

"There's a beautiful meadow up there," Nicky told them. "You might want to bring a camera, and definitely some water. The path has a tricky bit over some rocks...you'll need to wear good shoes and mind your step."

"We'll do that, thanks. Do you want to come with us, you and Jim?"

"Thank you, but no. Jim and I will be going off in a different direction with Corinne and her family. It's a pretty hike, too, a little easier and shorter than the one to the meadow."

Parents and kids continued to make plans for the free time they would have after the mini sessions and before dinner. After the dishes were cleared and the tables wiped down, the kids said goodbye and the parents broke up into two groups. Each group would attend either Get Real or Dream Working, and then switch after a short break. The next day would be the final session, Real World Magic.

"What a load of hooey!" Dara's dad exclaimed as he exited the lodge after the Get Real session. "I can't believe we paid good money to send her to _this_!"

"She's had a good time, Doug, " her mother offered softly. "And it did make sense, when you think about it...I mean, not putting others down...that's a _good_ thing!" She raised her eyes to his face, hoping to see some sign of understanding.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Of course. But you need to be firm with people, otherwise, they'll walk all over you. If you get in the first lick, they usually back off."

She stared at him in disbelief as a sense of utter hopelessness washed over her. He didn't get it, would not get it. Her head drooped in defeat.

"Let's see the pool before we have to go to the next stupid class." He strode off down the hill, and she watched him in silence for a few seconds before following in his footsteps.

"Can you imagine what Pat and Sean made of that class?" Mark McConnell asked his wife. "The twins thrive on insulting each other!"

His wife shook her head. "Sometimes...other times, I think Sean's hurt by it. He covers well, but..." she shrugged.

"They're as close as two people can be, but I know Pat's hard on him sometimes. Maybe we should be paying more attention. I just assumed they always work it out."

"Show them, we will," came Yoda's voice from nearby. Patrick and Sean met up with them by the volleyball court. "Hey, we thought we'd show you the oven we helped build, before you go to the next class."

"Yeah, it was so cool, we got to stomp in a mud pit to make adobe bricks!" Sean told them.

"Doesn't get any better than that," his dad responded. "Let's go see!"

His mother looped her arm through Sean's, and they all walked across the grass to where the oven sat.

"Look at this!" she exclaimed, peering through the door. "That's pretty impressive!" She turned to Patrick, standing next to her with a grin on his face. "How's the bread taste?"

"Awesome!" he replied.

"Excellent!" added Sean.

"I wonder how the...oh, I see, the bricks are canted so you don't need extra internal support," Mr. McConnell mused, his hand on the oven roof. He straightened up and looked at Patrick and Sean. "We just finished that Get Real class. What did you guys think of it when you did it?"

Patrick and Sean glanced at each other and then at their parents.

"It was good." Patrick said, without elaborating.

"Good?" his dad asked, waving his hand toward himself in a "gimme more" gesture.

"Well, you know that "build up" and "put down" stuff they talked about?" Sean asked his parents. "It made us think about stuff in our lives, how it makes people feel..." He pointed his chin at Patrick. "We worked some things out because of it. I didn't realize how much some things bothered me until we practiced in that class."

"Yeah, and Sean was real good at practicing putting down. I didn't know he had it in him," Patrick commented dryly.

Sean beamed. "Got you good, didn't I?"

"That's for sure."

Sean suddenly remembered what Patrick had told him when they were playing lacrosse. "Hey, don't you have something you need to tell mom and dad? About what happened at school?"

Patrick looked blank.

"You know, the toilet?" Sean prompted, savoring the moment.

Patrick's face flushed. "Oh, yeah." He swallowed. "Do you remember...well, I _know_ you remember, but...you know when that toilet got blown up and the teacher fell and broke her ankle?"

His parents nodded, watching him expectantly.

Patrick took a big breath. "Actually...that was me, not Sean." He waited for an explosion, but while his dad raised his eyebrows, neither parent said anything, merely waited for him to continue.

"I did it as a joke and I never meant for anyone to get hurt, but then Sean got blamed and I...well, I let him take the fall for it. I already apologized to Sean. And told him I'd never lie to him again." He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, we got that one cleared up," he said,

locking eyes with Sean.

"When we get back to school, I'll tell the teacher and apologize to her, too. I just want to say...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the trouble it caused and I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth."

His dad nodded gravely. "Apology accepted."

"I agree," his mom added. "Thanks for telling us." She touched Patrick on the arm. "Do you remember what Sean had to do because of that incident?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

Patrick frowned in concentration. When the memory came back to him, his eyes widened. "Oh, no!" he groaned.

"Oh, yes!" she laughed.

Sean twirled in a circle, arms raised overhead. "Yes!" he yelled in triumph.

"So, in addition to letting the teacher know the truth about what happened and apologizing to her, it looks like you will also be the chief pooper-scooper for 6 months after we get home. And I gotta tell you, we switched dog food because Sulley was having some problems with the old kind. He and Mike really like the new stuff...they've been _real_ regular," his dad smiled.

Patrick thought about Sulley, their Irish wolfhound, and Mike, a mastiff/rottweiler mix, and the volume of poop they had previously produced. If it was even more now...

His chin dropped onto his chest, shoulders drooping.

"Does that sound fair to you, Sean?" his dad asked.

"Sweet!" Sean replied, his face alight with laughter.

"We'd better get going to the next class," Mrs. McConnell said, wrapping Patrick in a one-arm hug. She gave Sean a quick hug, too, before walking up the slope with her grinning husband.

"Where is he?" Allison demanded excitedly. "I want to see him!"

"Oh, probably off chasing squirrels somewhere. He's not very good at it, but he keeps trying," Corinne answered. She had used her phone to send her sister a picture of Rocky, and Allison had fallen in love on sight.

"Yeah, he's almost as fond of squirrels as he is of you!" Jim commented.

Corinne's lips quirked with amusement once again at his pronunciation of "squirrel". "Say it again," she pleaded.

He tilted his head, but obligingly repeated the word.

This time she laughed outright, eyes dancing.

"Corinne!" her dad said sharply.

"It's OK, sir. I give her aboriginal words to say, and they're barely recognizable the way she pronounces them."

Corinne nodded her head. "Might as well be Chinese."

Nicky had been following the conversation with a smile, but when she noticed a brown shape moving through the trees at the bottom of the hill, she put two fingers to her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.

Everyone but Jim looked at her in surprise, and the brown shape changed course and shot toward them at top speed.

Rocky barreled into Nicky first, then moved on to Corinne. He frisked around her legs, then ran a short way off before freezing, rear end in the air, nose on the ground, bright eyes focused on her intently.

She faked a lunge at him and ran around behind Jim. Rocky gave a short, high bark of joy and raced after her. Corinne did an about-face and caught him in her arms. He squirmed out and promptly rolled onto his back, legs jerking, head lolling, tongue panting.

"Allison, I think he's ready for a belly rub."

Rocky flipped onto his feet and approached Allison, sniffing interestedly. She let him sniff first, then she put out her hand, and he nosed it up like a cat wanting to be scratched.

She laughed and plopped down on the ground, hands already stroking his wiry fur.

"Fickle," Corinne stated, shaking her head sadly.

"Oh, no," Nicky reassured her. "He'll take whatever he can get whenever he can get it. You'll be next, as soon as she stops petting him."

Corinne's dad asked about Rocky's breed, and while Jim explained, Corinne looked around the grounds at the groups of kids and parents. Toby was towing his parents toward the pool, his dad holding one of those big seed pods under his arm like a football. Caroline and Drew and their parents were walking away from the covered patio, all looking at what Corinne figured must be a treasure map. She turned her head to the left and saw Ron, Jake, and Jake's mom moving toward the stables, Jake talking nonstop and the other two listening. There were other kids she didn't know, but everyone seemed to be busy going somewhere, talking, laughing, and exploring. She sighed happily.

Dara's dad looked large and uncomfortable standing in the small cabin. Her mom was sitting on the bunk, poring over Dara's treasure map as if it was a canvas by DaVinci. Every once is awhile she would glance up at Dara, her eyes moist, her fingers almost, but not quite, touching the objects on the map.

It had taken every bit of willpower she had to summon the courage to show her parents her map. She just knew her dad would put it down, and her mom would probably say something like, "That's nice, dear", and that would be that.

Instead, her dad didn't comment on her map at all. "What is wrong with you, Jean?" he asked mildly, as her mom continued to hold the map like the precious cache its name implied.

"I used to want to write," she said in a far away voice. She looked down at the map again. "I did write," she amended. " About my family, about desert islands and tropical rainforests, and bunnies who talked. Lots of different things."

Dara stared in amazement. Her mom? Bunnies who talked?!

Her dad looked blank. 'What are you talking about? You never wrote anything besides a grocery list."

That brought her head up. She met his eyes with an uncharacteristic hint of steel in her own. "Yes. Yes, I did. You never saw my stories. I wouldn't let you."

"Mom?"

"Dara...I hope you'll let me read your stories...I couldn't be more proud of you."

Am I in an alternate universe? Dara wondered.

"She can't waste time writing fairy tales when she's got to be focused on swimming."

Dara ignored his comment, asking a question instead, a question she would never have been brave enough to ask before coming to camp. "Are you proud of me, Dad?"

"Proud of you?! Have you both gone crazy? I don't know what either one of you is talking about."

"Are you proud of me?" Dara persisted.

"For wanting to make up stories? I'm supposed to be proud of you for that?"

"For _anything_. Are you proud of me for anything?" She held his gaze and did not look away.

He started to speak, folded his lips, and tried again. "Dara, you're a champion swimmer...of course I'm proud of you."

She nodded. "Is that all? Just because I'm a good swimmer?"

He looked perplexed. "No, I...you're a beautiful girl, you work hard...I lo..." he stopped abruptly. "You're my daughter," he finished on a puzzled, almost pleading note.

Dara listened and watched, seeing him in a different light. She couldn't decide exactly what it was, but somehow things had shifted, her perception had shifted. Everything was the same, except it wasn't.

She went to her dad, put her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his chest. After a moment, his arms came around her hesitantly and he rested his cheek on top of her hair.

Dara hugged him tight and stepped back. Turning to her mother, she bent down and kissed her cheek before looping her arms around her mother's neck. "I'd love for you to read my stories. If you still have them, I'd like to read yours, too."

Her mother grabbed her in a tight hold. "Yes," she managed through tears. "I'd like that very much."

Her dad had been standing, statue-like, during this exchange, but came suddenly alive. "Wait a minute. She's got to concentrate on her swimming. You have a goal, Dara!" he reminded her sharply.

She let go of her mother, and stood up, tall and straight, facing her father. Had they seen her at that moment, Patrick would have paid homage in elvish and Drew would have felt his heart swell.

"You know, Dad, before I came here, to this camp, I wasn't sure I wanted to go to the Olympics."

Her dad gasped and opened his mouth to speak, but Dara went on.

"I love swimming, you know that, and I'm good at it...but it seemed like it was more important to you than it was to me."

She held up her hand before her dad could say anything. "Let me finish...please. My stories are important to me. But so is swimming. I can do both, Dad."

Dara's gaze fell on her treasure map. "I will keep writing. And I'll keep training for the Olympics because I really, really want to go to Sydney and compete. Not for you...I can't keep swimming because you want me to...but I can swim because I love to swim and I want to be in the Olympics."

Her dad stared at her without speaking, and after coming to some silent conclusion of his own, nodded slowly. "Alright, Dara."

Chapter 27

Campfire

"C'mon, all you pyros out there! Start feeding this fire some fuel," Cal urged.

The smaller kindling had caught, and kids and parents needed no additional encouragement to add a few branches to the crackling flames. Cal rolled a large stump over beside the fire pit, and went back to the pile for an armful of split wood.

Patrick tossed in a handful of twigs and plopped down next to his parents, throwing an arm across his father's shoulders. "Well, Squidward, what have we learned today?" he asked in a nasally voice.

"The Crabby Patty hasn't been the same without you," his father replied in a fair imitation of SpongeBob.

Patrick laughed and patted the top of his dad's head. "Not bad...not as good as me, but not bad."

"You live with _two_ of them?" Shelley was perched on an old tree trunk that had been split in half lengthwise and sanded smooth. Sean sat between her and his mother.

Mrs. McConnell shook her head in mock sorrow. "Sean and I have a lot to bear," she replied, and grinned at Sean. She looked up as the Parkers arrived, along with Dara and her parents. They all arranged themselves around the fire pit, pulling up chairs, stumps, and anything else available to sit on. Other people were sitting on the low wall between the volleyball court and the firepit, and some were clustered around the refreshments table where Lauren and Noreen were serving up mugs of hot chocolate and cider.

Patrick spotted Drew and gave a jerk of his head toward his father. Drew nodded and pulled out the notebook he had tucked under his arm. Patrick scooted over to make room, and Drew sat down between them, his notebook on his knees.

Mr. McConnell saw the notebook and looked at Drew with interest. "Are these the drawings Patrick and Sean were telling me about? For lacrosse?"

"Uh-huh. I don't know if people would be interested in stuff like this, but...well, I like them, even if I did draw them myself." Drew flipped open the notebook and handed it to Mr. McConnell.

Mr. McConnell scanned each page carefully before slowly moving on to the next. He finally whistled softly and met Drew's eyes. "These are good...really good. Clever. Kids are always looking for something different. I think these would be perfect for a line of shirts, caps..." he broke off, thinking. "Have you talked to your parents about this?"

Drew nodded. He stared at the page and his fingers twitched as the flickering light from the fire gave him another idea. Clearing his throat, he brought his attention back to Patrick's father. "Yeah, I showed them my drawings and told them what Patrick said...that you could probably tell whether we could sell them on t-shirts and things."

"I think there's a very good chance of that." He stood up and asked his wife to scoot over a bit. "I want to talk to Drew's parents."

The Parkers had chairs on the far side of the log bench. Mrs. McConnell moved closer to Sean, and Mr. McConnell sat down next to her on the edge of the bench. He reached across and gave Sean a brief pat on the knee and began to talk in low tones with the Parkers, occasionally gesturing at the notebook he cradled in his hand.

Dara took the opportunity to move next to Drew, ignoring a keen look from her father. "Hi," she whispered softly. Deliberately, she reached down and clasped his hand in hers.

Drew cut his eyes to Dara's father and back to her serene face. He squeezed her fingers lightly. "Why are we whispering?"

She shrugged, her blush invisible in the firelight.

"How'd it go? Did you talk to them?"

Dara stared at their entwined fingers. "Yeah, I did. I think it's going to be OK...not easy," she added wryly, "but OK." She paused and took a deep breath. "My mom said she used to write stories...I never knew. She' never said a word about it before."

Drew's eyebrows rose. "Are you going to let them read your stuff?"

"My mom wants to, so, yeah. I actually feel good about that. And she's going to let me read hers, too. It's going to be so weird." She tossed a few blonde strands out of her eyes. "My dad sort of ignored the part about me writing. Definitely not interested," which should have made her feel bad, she thought, but somehow didn't. She might wish he could be different, but it didn't change how _she_ felt about her stories. She toed up a little pile of dirt, further smudging her long past white ballet flats. "He's good with the swimming, though. And so am I!" She gave him a satisfied smile and he laughed, feeling good about her, about his lacrosse drawings, and about life in general.

Jake, Jim, Corinne, Allison, and Rocky were lined up on a bench on the opposite side of the firepit. Rocky lay with his head on Allison's thigh, and she couldn't be happier about it. Their parents stood in a group a little behind them, laughing, talking about the day, gesturing with their cups, and joking about s'more-related personality traits.

Jake had three chocolate chip cookies balanced on his knee, and was looking forward to the s'mores. An arm suddenly snaked around him and snatched one of his cookies. He made a grab for it, but missed, and when he turned, Caroline was grinning at him, half a cookie stuffed in her mouth.

"There's a whole table of them over there, you know!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "Why don't you go get your own?"

"Because it's more fun to steal yours, of course!" She rolled her eyes as if he'd said the stupidest thing.

Jake's eyes flashed and he jumped up from the bench, knocking the remaining cookies into the dirt. Caroline let out a squeak and ran for it, Jake not far behind.

Corinne looked knowingly at Jim. "So, what will he do when he catches her? Kill her or ?"

"Oh, I think she'll be fine," he said slyly.

"You're thinking they've finally realized the brother-sister act is overrated?"

"I'd say she's known it for a long time, and he's just about to find out."

They laughed, and he handed her a clean cookie before reaching down to throw the dirty ones into the fire.

Ron edged by their bench with an armful of hangers that had been straightened for toasting. He set them on a row of bricks lined up near the fire, and grinned at Rocky, whose eyes were half closed in pleasure at Allison's touch. "Now, there's a happy dog."

Allison looked up at him and smiled shyly. The motion of her hand stopped. Rocky opened his eyes and gave her a sharp nudge with his nose. She resumed petting, and he heaved a sigh, as if to comment on the inadequacy of help these days, before resettling his head on her leg and closing his eyes.

"Spoiled rotten," Corinne commented without heat.

"What's he been doing?" Cal came up to stand next to Ron, eyes on his dog, his bright yellow madras shirt clashing magnificently with red sweats and sockless green Van's.

Rocky opened his eyes at the sound of Cal's voice and stared back at him with an innocent expression that clearly said "Who, me?"

Corinne eyed Cal's outfit. "Maybe he's color blind," she said to Jim in a stage whisper.

"Well, look who's calling the kettle black!" Cal gasped in mock outrage.

Corinne preened exaggeratedly. "I _am_ colorful, but perfectly matched and beautifully put together." She gave Cal a smile of patently false sweetness.

"She's got you, there," Jim said, smiling appreciatively at her. Her purple cami, pink hoodie, and plaid teal capris were indeed very colorful, yet somehow just right on her.

Cal bopped her lightly on the head with a box of graham crackers, and Rocky barked at him. "Guess I better be nice to you. You've got a protector...Traitor," he added to Rocky.

"Thanks, Rock," Corinne crooned.

Jake and Caroline returned shortly, which was a good thing because both his mom and her parents had witnessed them leaving and were watching to make sure they came back. Caroline appeared flushed, but pleased, and Jake looked like he didn't know what hit him. Jim almost laughed out loud when he saw their faces.

Caroline sat down on the bench and moved over to give Jake room. Jim caught his eye and Jake lifted his chin, daring him to comment. Jim just shook his head, smiling at him, and Jake's face relaxed into an answering grin.

Ron clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "It s'mores time, for those that want any. We've got marshmallows and chocolate and everything on the table back there. Grab a skewer whenever you're ready."

A line of kids quickly formed in front of the pile of hangers and Ron got out of the way, moving to stand by Jake's mom. In a remarkably short time, there were a dozen or so marshmallows toasting over the fire.

"Flameout!" someone cried, as a marshmallow burst into blue flame.

"Oh, not again!" Corinne groaned, bringing her now-blackened marshmallow closer for inspection.

"No, not tonight. I'm not rescuing your sorry burned marshmallows again. I barely recovered from the last time," Ron told her, holding his stomach. "Try this...decide where you think is the perfect spot, then hold it 3 inches short of that or above it or both. No matter how tempted you are to get closer, don't."

Jim had scrapped the gooey mass off the end of her hanger and into the fire, where it sizzled briefly and imploded into a small lump of charcoal. He threaded another marshmallow onto the hanger and she took it from him with a word of thanks and a determined tilt to her chin.

Several minutes later, she was sure her marshmallow was just as white and just as untoasted as when she stuck it over the fire. She pulled it out of the fire and peered at it closely. "Oh, my god! Look, Jim, look at this!" Her marshmallow was lightly crusted with a warm, golden hue. She gently squeezed it with two fingers and it crackled a little, the soft center squishy beneath her fingers.

"Yes! I did it!"

"Would you make one for me, Rinny?" Allison asked her.

"You can have this one and I'll do another one for me." She held the hanger toward her sister, who gingerly pulled it off and popped it in her mouth.

"I'm going to go get more, and the chocolate and stuff." She jumped up from the bench and was gone before Jim could say anything.

Jim gave Ron a thumbs-up, and Ron pretended to wipe imaginary sweat from his forehead, having won a close call.

One and a half boxes of graham crackers, 2 bags of marshmallows, and a dozen bars of chocolate later, everyone had had their fill of s'mores. The only truly surprising variation, which was dubbed the "still waters run deep" personality, came from Dara's mother. She pressed a sliver of dark chocolate into the middle of a marshmallow, then used two hangers like tongs to toast it. More dark chocolate lined both sides of her graham crackers. People who tried to copy her technique had a hard time with the hangers-as-tongs concept, and she seemed to have a lot of fun helping people get the hang of it.

"Unless anybody wants s'more...," groans interrupted Noreen. "Hey, I didn't even mean it that way," she laughed. "We thought we'd play a little "Two Truths and a Lie"; does everyone know that game?"

Some did and some didn't. "Ill go first and you'll see right away how it works. The object is to guess which one is the lie." Noreen thought for a minute. "I have a son with eyes just like mine."

Teddy, who had been sitting on Shelley's lap, giggled and waved at everyone. People looked from him to Noreen. One truth, for sure.

Noreen smiled at him and Shelley ruffled his hair. "I grew up in Greenland. I love a good steak," she finished.

It seemed pretty obvious to most people. "Growing up in Greenland," someone called out.

Noreen shook her head.

"You grew up in Greenland?" Sean said in disbelief.

Noreen nodded. "My father is Danish and we lived in Greenland while he worked for a fish exporting business. We moved to the United States when I was 12."

"Wow! But you don't have any accent. Can you speak Greenland, er, Greenlandian, I mean..."

"Actually, it's Greenlandic. I speak Danish, too. Juullimi ukiortaasamilu pilluaritsi," she said, then laughed at Sean's expression. "It means Merry Christmas and Happy New Year," she explained.

"Glad I only have to learn Spanish in school," he responded. "So, no steak for you?"

"Not for this vegetarian," Noreen laughed. "Do you want to go next?" she offered.

"OK. Hmmm. "My brother and I are identical twins...I'm better at lacrosse than Patrick."

"That's your opinion!" Patrick called out indignantly. His brother held his gaze, saying nothing. "Oh, alright," Patrick relented. "That one's true...but not by much!"

"Someday, I want to sail all around the world," Sean finished.

People had their heads together, looking from Sean to Patrick, trying to decide just how alike they were. Mr. and Mrs. McConnell were staring keenly at Sean for a different reason.

Toby finally guessed, "You want to sail around the world."

Sean's eyes gleamed. "No, that's true."

"We never knew that, Sean," his dad said in wonder. "When...you grew up in Utah, so..."

"I'll show you my treasure map tomorrow. Both of you." Sean was quite pleased with himself for surprising his parents.

His dad nodded, looking very interested.

"You're not identical?!" Toby demanded in disbelief.

"Are you kidding? I'm much better looking than Sean," Patrick claimed. Everyone laughed knowing that if the twins cut their hair in the same style, not many would be able to tell who was who. Still, officially they were fraternal, not identical, twins.

"Toby, what about you?" Noreen asked.

"Oh. OK. Well...I have a rottweiler named "Fluffy"," he began.

Dara laughed delightedly. "Does he have three heads?"

Those who caught the Harry Potter reference laughed, others looked puzzled.

"Ah, no," Toby replied sheepishly. After a pause, he finished his last two sentences. "I want to go to Steve Irwin's zoo in Australia. I have six toes on my right foot."

Almost all of the kids knew Toby wanted to go to Australia. Those who had been swimming with him tried to remember if they had ever seen an extra toe. Since it would have been something that stuck out in their memories, so to speak, they decided that the toe must be the lie.

Toby acknowledged it, whipping off his shoe and sock, and wiggling all five toes.

Jake looked at him with a pained expression. "You named your dog Fluffy?"

"It's from Harry Potter!" Toby defended himself.

"The dog's gonna have a major complex."

"We don't actually call him Fluffy," Mr. Curran put in. "Part of his registered name is Elrond, so we usually just call him Ronny.

"Well, that's better then Fluffy," Jake allowed.

"And better than Squidward for a horse," added Ron darkly.

"It suits him!" countered Shelley.

"He doesn't look like an octopus to me," Ron shook his head.

"Here we go again," Noreen broke in. "Ron, what was the name of your first dog?"

"OK, OK I give," he said, without answering her question.

Toby zeroed in on Ron. "What was the name of your dog?"

Ron looked at Toby, then Shelley, who was openly laughing, then Noreen, and back to Toby. He threw up his hands in defeat.

"Hefty Smurf," he admitted resignedly.

"Smurf? You named your dog after one of those little blue guys?" Jake said incredulously, then threw back his head and burst out laughing.

Lacy stared at her son through eyes blurred with tears. How long had it been since she had heard that free and easy laugh?

"It wasn't just any Smurf, it was Hefty Smurf, the strongest dude in the village," Ron explained, meeting Lacy's eyes over Jake's head. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod and said to Jake, "He was a tough little guy, too. Lived up to his name."

Jake shook his head, still smiling.

"Who wants to go next?" Noreen asked.

Various people took turns, their truths sometimes surprising, sometimes funny, and always interesting.

Toby's dad held up a hand. "I'll go next." He shared a look with his wife, one of those silent, husband-wife communications. She nodded, and he began. "I like peanut butter, jelly, and bacon sandwiches."

He was interrupted by a chorus of "Eeewww!" and "Gross!" while a few people looked thoughtful. Toby knew this one was true...gross, but true. One truth and one lie to go.

"When I was 13, I made it to the finals of the National Spelling Bee."

That one was true, too, Toby thought. His dad had told him he'd been in the National Spelling Bee. So this next one was the lie.

"Our family is moving to Australia for a year."

The others debated which might be the lie, while Toby fumed. His dad _knew_ he wanted to go to Australia _so_ bad...he'd never known his dad to be cruel, and he couldn't believe he'd taunt him this way! He probably meant it as a joke, but it wasn't funny, not at all. Toby stared at his shoes, too hurt and angry to even look at his parents.

"It's gotta be the sandwich," Corinne's dad commented.

Mr. Curran shook his head. "Nope. And they're really good!"

There were a few more "eeewwws".

"Australia, then," someone else guessed.

Mr. Curran looked at Toby. "No, that's true, too."

Toby didn't understand. Had his dad said it was _true_? "Dad, you...you did go to the National Spelling Bee. I remember you telling me...mom said so, too."

"Yes, I did. But I was 12 years old, not 13," he explained grinning.

"Then..." Toby stopped and swallowed hard. "You mean, we're really going to Australia? For a whole year?"

"I've been put in charge of a project that should keep me busy there for right around a year. But it means we won't be able to take the vacation we planned this year. I won't be able to take time off to..."

But the rest of his sentence was drowned out by Toby's whoop of joy. He leaped off his seat and thrust both arms straight up in the air. Dara got to him first, running over and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back, but couldn't stand still for long.

"It worked, it worked, it worked!" he yelled, jumping up and down. He ran over to his parents and nearly knocked them off their seats as he grabbed them both. When he let go, he was swarmed by his friends; Caroline and Corinne hugged him, Jake slapped him on the back, and Jim, Drew, Sean, and Patrick circled around him, laughing, hooting, and high-fiving.

"Where will you be living, Mr. Curran?" Jim asked.

"Brisbane?" Toby said hopefully.

"No, Sydney. I'm sure we'll have time to visit Jim in Brisbane, if you both like, and, of course, go to Australia Zoo, too."

Toby was so happy he couldn't stop grinning. He looked across the flames and saw Dara smiling at him, and his smile got even wider.

Chapter 28

Light of Day

Dara swam with sure, measured strokes. Ten laps to go. Her mind occasionally touched on the events of the day before, but mostly she focused on her breathing, the rhythm of her arms and legs, the sensation of slipping lightly through water.

Drew stood at poolside and watched her thoughtfully. So graceful...she made it look effortless, and he knew first-hand it was anything but. Pulling goggles over his eyes, he dove in, gliding far under water, and surfacing in a smooth freestyle.

Dara heard someone enter the water, spared one glance, recognized Drew, and continued with her workout. Lap by lap they crossed and recrossed the pool. Dara kept on with the crawl while Drew switched off every other lap, fly, backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle. When Dara finally finished, she floated on her back while Drew did a few more laps.

Staring at a cloudless sky, she thought about her mom and dad. They'd been pretty quiet at the fire the night before. Her dad hadn't even said anything about her holding hands with Drew. It was strange...a few short weeks ago, she would have been so worried about what her dad would think, whether he'd approve or, more likely, disapprove. Now, it wasn't like she didn't care, but it didn't rule her life anymore. Rules...she hadn't thought of a single Rule in days. She tried to think of some of her Rules, but they just wouldn't come. She pictured a heavy-lidded chest with "DARA's RULES" stenciled on the outside, saw herself hauling it onto a raft and pushing it out into a river. She watched it float out into the current, the front edge of the raft catching the first small ripples, the chest bobbing slightly as the raft rode the ripples and gained momentum. She saw herself standing on shore, waving goodbye. No more Rules, she thought without regret.

"Man, haven't done that in a long time!" Drew panted as he flipped onto his back and floated near her. "I didn't think I was that out of shape!"

"It's why I can't take much time off. You lose it so fast!"

"Yeah, and skateboarding doesn't exactly give you the same workout."

She lifted her head out of the water and looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Not even close," she said dryly, letting her head fall back again.

Drew put his feet on the bottom, the water half way up his chest. He grabbed her arm as she floated by and pulled her to him, one arm wrapped around her waist. "Wait till I've been playing lacrosse for awhile. I'll be, like, totally ripped." He flexed his free arm, laughing, and it was evident to Dara that he must have been doing something more than skateboarding.

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. "Send me a picture, OK?" She pushed against him and he let her go.

His eyes turned serious. "I will. I'll stay in touch...you don't have to worry about dealing with your dad all alone."

"I know." She returned his gaze. "Having you to talk to...you and Caroline both...I know it's going to help get me through whatever happens. I just hope...I hope I get to see you again sometime. I'm going to miss you a lot."

Drew closed the space between them again. He thought of a number of things her could say. In the end, he said simply, "me, too" and let his actions speak for him as he tried to put all of his feelings into his kiss.

Dara drew back, smiling through eyes brimming with unshed tears. She squeezed his hand and turning, waded to the steps and out of the pool, just as Ron and Shelley walked out of the exercise room.

"Mornin'," Shelley greeted them, eyes twinkling. While they worked out, she and Ron had kept a discreet eye on the kids, lest the PDA escalate unacceptably. It came with the territory, as counselors at a camp with teens.

"Drew, do you want to give Mischief a last ride today? I was going to take Jake and his mom on the south trail, into the valley." He shifted his gaze to Dara. "You, too, Dara. You liked Nate the last time you rode, didn't you?"

Drew and Dara looked at each other and came to a silent agreement.

"Sure," Drew answered. "We'll go. Thanks."

"I'd like to ride Nate again. He's so sweet."

"Uh huh, unlike Squidward. You know, I rode him for two hours the other day, and he waited until he got back in his stall to relieve himself of a mountain of horse poop. Smiled at me while he did it, too," Ron complained.

Drew and Dara laughed.

"Job security for you," Shelley said, helpfully.

Ron shot her a baleful look. "I'm going to change. See you all at breakfast."

"I'd better go, too. See you in a bit," Dara said to Shelley, giving Drew a soft look.

"Well done on your treasure map," Nicky commented, fondly pushing a strand of brown-blonde hair off his forehead. "When he sees it, your dad will set you more work on the ship, the next time you go."

Jim tossed his head, sending the wayward strand back across his forehead. "I'm counting on it." He stared at his mother measuringly. "I know that with dad, I'm learning a lot of things first hand and it's great experience...but I still want to go to school at James Cook." He named one of the best marine studies universities in the country. "I know it's expensive, but I've been saving and I'll work hard..."

She held up a hand. "I know. Your dad and I have already talked about it, and we've figured out the finances. It's still a few years off, but, well...It's up to you to get yourself accepted, and give it your best; if you do that, we'll handle the tuition."

Jim's eyes lit up and he jumped straight into the air, crowing with triumph. "Yeah!" He pumped his fist, wrapped his arms around his mother, and spun her around in a circle.

She laughed breathlessly, feeling such joy at his happiness. He'd always been a funny kid. Old and young at the same time. Some people would call him an old soul, she supposed. She didn't know if it was more of a nature/nurture thing, just that it was her privilege to share his life, to teach him and learn from him, to love him and be loved by him.

"Can I have a spinner hug, too?" a small voice piped nearby.

Nicky turned and saw Teddy watching them, a Mickey Mouse ball cap sliding down over his ears.

Jim spotted him and swooped in, clutched Teddy to his chest and twirled him around and around.

"Whoa!" Teddy exclaimed after Jim set him down, staggering around and giggling at the same time. "Do it again!"

Jim tugged the brim of Teddy's cap. "I think you'd better get your balance back first." He looked past Teddy and saw Jake walking with his mother toward the lodge.

"Oy, Jake!" he called out.

"Hey, Jim," Jake and his mother changed course to join the Roberts and Teddy.

Jim told him about the school he would attend, earning a high five from Jake. They talked about plans for the day and it was decided that Jim would join the horseback ride. Jim was hoping he could talk Corinne into it, too. Nicky didn't do horses, and would be happier visiting with friends at the lodge.

After two more spinner hugs for Teddy (not nearly enough, in his opinion), they headed for the lodge and breakfast.

"I vote for the pool," Caroline stated with decision, positive she did not feel like hiking or horseback-riding. She ladled another large spoonful of scrambled eggs on her plate, and added a couple of melon slices.

"Sounds good to me," her dad said, looking to her mom for agreement. "Drew's going riding and we can relax by the pool."

Toby and his parents, as well as the twins and their parents, had also planned on spending a good part of the day at the pool. Toby didn't get the chance to swim at home very often and he wanted to make the most of it. Besides, Caroline would be there, and she was always fun. His parents would probably swim a little and read a lot.

"Corinne, what are you going to do?" Toby looked across the table at her.

"I'm going riding. Ron's taking a group out to the valley."

"I want to go swimming!" Allison declared.

Corinne's dad smiled. "That settles that, I guess. We'll be going to the pool then, too, while Corinne rides...good thing it's a big pool!'

As the day progressed, adults and kids swam, hiked, rode, read, played volleyball, lacrosse, and baseball, hunted tadpoles and lizards, baked bread, and ate well. For some, it was a chance to relax and have fun with each other in ways they didn't typically get to experience. Others had a harder time relaxing and relating, but the opportunities were there for all.

Chapter 29

Let's Put on a Show!

At dinnertime, the kids who were to participate in the show that night grew excited or nervous, by turns. Some, like Patrick, thrived on performing. Others were anxious about being up in front of an audience, even if they knew a lot of them well.

Corinne was extremely thankful she didn't have to perform. She was looking forward to watching Caroline and the others. It was hard for her to believe that just a few weeks earlier, she had despaired of having good friends, friends who would back you up and cheer you on, not cut you down and rip you apart. Now, she had Jim, a solid presence watching her back, Caroline, Toby, Jake, the twins, and more...even Cal and Rocky. It felt good, really good. She looked across the table at her dad, entertaining Allison and Teddy with an old magic trick she had seen dozens of time. As he finished, Allison clapped her hands and Teddy pleaded "again!" He was a good guy, her dad. And her mom had traded him in for...well it didn't make any sense to Corinne. She loved her mom, but she was very glad she lived with her dad. And he got over it, so why shouldn't she?

Jim leaned over and whispered, "What's going on under all that hair? You look like your brain is working overtime in there."

Her halo of blonde curls was bisected by a narrow, blue and green paisley scarf she had tied in a knot at the nape of her neck. "I'm thinking I'm pretty lucky, after all."

He smiled. "I'm feeling lucky myself." A split second later, his brows drew together in consternation. "I just meant...I didn't mean..." he stammered, uncharacteristically flustered.

"What are you talking about? Oh." She began to laugh. "You doofus. I didn't take it _that_ way."

"Just making sure." Jim looked relieved. He concentrated on finishing the rest of his pulled pork sandwich with grilled onions and peppers, looking forward to the cheesecake Noreen had promised for dessert.

Ron walked to the front of the room after judging that most people were done with dessert. "I hope you know how lucky you are to have tasted Noreen's homemade cheesecake."

Jim slid his eyes to Corinne and found hers brimful of laughter. His lips quirked up in a wry grin.

Everyone clapped with much appreciation, and Noreen gave a small curtsy. "As you all know, we're going to have a very special show tonight, put on by some of the local talent." Ron winked at Patrick. "It will take us awhile to get dinner cleaned up and the stage and seating arranged in here, so please give us an hour and then come back, ready to be entertained."

When they reassembled in roughly an hour, the lodge dining room had been transformed. The sofa and TV had been pushed against the far wall, and the stage area outlined in blue duct tape. Two large speakers flanked the stage, and the back wall behind the stage was draped with dark blue cloth. A room divider hid the back door, presumably allowing the actors to go outside for changes without being seen. The dining tables were stacked on top of each other at the edges of the room, and rows of folding chairs and benches faced the stage.

Kids and parents filed in and the rows quickly filled. The noise level was high as people talked and laughed, adjusted their seats, called out greetings to others on the opposite side of the room, and generally got settled in. The lights clicked off suddenly and the sound dropped to a low hum. A couple of spotlight-type floor lamps were turned on, illuminating a row of kids dressed in heavily padded white pants with suspenders of wide white ribbon, and cotton balls stuck to their eyebrows. The audience hooted and clapped, and the kids onstage grinned. The speakers emitted a crackling sound, followed by the beginning strains of the Oompa Loompa song. The choreography was less than perfect, as was the lip-synching, but it was even funnier that way. One girl turned the wrong way and smacked into the boy next to her, knocking them both down. Awkward in their augmented pants, they helped each other up, but were having trouble standing, they were laughing so hard. This earned them some elbowing from the Oompa-Loompas on either side of them, and they straightened up and managed to finish on time and almost in synch with the rest of the group.

People clapped wildly and stomped their feet, and even Dara's dad was smiling. The Oompa-Loompas took a group bow and hustled off stage as fast as they could shuffle. The lights dimmed again, and the audience could hear loud whispers and hissed instructions before the lights came on again.

Caroline stood alone on stage, wearing a baggy greenish costume decorated with large squares, and a green hoodie. Her dad frowned at her mother. "What is she supposed to be?"

Her mom shrugged. "I don't...oh, she's a turtle. I mean, a tortoise." Her eyes lit with comprehension. "Like her treasure map, the Galapagos!"

Caroline ambled slowly around the stage and was joined by two others wearing blue socks and outfits decorated with white feathers. Another person walked across and then off the stage, carrying a sign that read "Galapagos".

"We are blue-footed boobies," said one of the kids on stage with Caroline. There was general laughter, which grew raucous as the "birds" began performing the dance of the blue-footed boobies. Someone in a Jurassic Park T-Rex costume crawled on stage and sat with his held tilted in a lizard's one-eyed gaze.

"What the...?" Corinne thought, then heard someone behind her say, "Oh, I get it. It's an iguana."

Caroline came to a halt center stage and faced the audience. "My dream is to study wildlife in the Galapagos Islands." People applauded and she headed offstage, along with the "birds", then Jim appeared, standing in the middle of a cardboard boat that he held at chest level.

The iguana mimed diving into water, slithered around, and worked his way off stage. "I want to be a marine biologist and study sea life," Jim declared. People clapped again, and Jim bobbed up and down as if he were riding swells. A kid wearing a wig with very long dreads circled the boat in a rhythmic shuffle, and no one could figure out what he was supposed to be. A girl with yellow sponges covering her t-shirt appeared as Jim sailed off stage. The girl chased the bobbing rasta kid with a net that looked suspiciously like one of the homemade lacrosse sticks.

The puzzled murmurs continued until a voice behind the stage called out in a nasally, wistful voice, "Oh, Squidward, don't you just love jellyfishing?!"

Talking erupted in the audience, and while most of the words could not be distinguished, "SpongeBob" came through loud and clear. The "SpongeBob" on stage stopped and said in a loud, clear voice, "I want to be an animator and work on cartoons." She chased the "jellyfish" off stage to the sound of applause, at the last moment handing off the net/stick to Sean, who bounded on stage dressed in Ron's old lacrosse uniform. He dropped a lacrosse ball into the pocket and cradled it as he ran around the perimeter, dodging and weaving. "I want to be a professional lacrosse player," he yelled, and joined a group of about 8 kids who had appeared on the other side of the stage. The group circled around in a kind of scrum and then the circle widened to show a girl in the middle. She smiled widely. "I want to have more friends!"

The action on stage kept changing. One boy wanted to go to Disneyland, another wanted a puppy, and someone else wanted an "A" in math. A boy who wanted to understand girls got a big laugh, as did a girl who said she wanted her little brother to stop making disgusting noises during her favorite T.V. show. Parents and kids clapped and clapped until their hands were almost sore. The lights finally went out and there was a long pause before the next act.

When they came back on, Jim, Jake, and Sean were sitting in chairs at the side of the stage. Patrick and Caroline were standing next to each other, their hands in the front pockets of their jeans, both wearing t-shirts that read "Vote For Pedro", apparently written with a Sharpie.

"Oh, no!" someone called out. Patrick frowned, and nodded to someone off stage to start the music. As soon as the two of them started moving, someone began clapping in time to the music and others joined in. Jim looked around, a bemused expression on his face, Sean looked bored, and Jake's old sneer had reappeared as he watched the dancers in apparent disbelief. Patrick's lanky body looked closer to Napoleon's, but when Caroline took center stage with spot-on Napoleon moves, Jake couldn't keep a straight face, losing his sneer and laughing until he was red in the face. Jim and Sean lost it when Jake did, and instead of staying in character and scoffing at the dancers, they rolled in their chairs along with the rest of the audience. The applause was thunderous when they finished, and the dancers were panting and grinning ear to ear.

There were more acts to follow, but it was hard to top the _Napoleon Dynamite_ dance. Two kids did a funny skit demonstrating building up and putting down. Toby and Teddy were a hit as Dumbledore and a very short Harry Potter, respectively. Patrick had coached Toby relentlessly, and was rewarded when he heard Toby do a very fair imitation of Richard Harris saying "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Another couple of kids acted out having different identities and different nerves that got touched or buttons that got pushed. They had tried to get Jake to perform one of the parts, but he flat out refused. He was much happier watching that part of the show, instead of being in it.

The last act was pure fun and involved everyone who'd been in the show. They all came on stage in various costumes from the previous acts, and sang the theme song to SpongeBob Squarepants, looking so absurd that everyone had to laugh. Kids in the audience jumped on stage with them and joined in, making it a rousing finale. When the last chorus had been sung, an exhausted and happy group took a final bow. The parents and counselors gave them a standing ovation, Nicky letting loose with several piercing finger whistles. Ears ringing, performers and audience members came together and walked out into the night.

Chapter 30

Happy Trails To You

Weak morning light filtered through the cabin window. Still early, then, Toby thought. He inhaled deeply, the air dry and already warm. Soft breathing coming from the bunks next to his told him the twins were still asleep. Toby turned his head on his pillow and looked across the cabin at Jake. He was curled up on his side with one arm thrown out over the edge of the bunk. His face was serene, brows relaxed above the straight nose and slightly curved lips. It occurred to Toby that he almost looked like a different person, remembering the brooding, scowling kid who barely acknowledged him when he first arrived at camp. People are funny...you just never know, he thought. No, that wasn't right. Sometimes you think you know, and then you find out later you were completely wrong.

His eyes focused on a pinecone Patrick had dropped on the table the night before. He could see the brown scales clearly, a glob of amber sap suspended on one of the spikes. As he stared, his vision narrowed to exclude everything but the pinecone. Toby felt his heart speeding up, excitement making his eyes shine. He deliberately slowed his breathing and concentrated as hard as he could, willing the pinecone to roll toward him. His eyes began to blur and he refocused his effort. Nothing happened for perhaps a minute and then, to his amazed delight, the pinecone bounced! Not a big bounce, but it definitely moved! He sat up quickly and squinting, watched in disbelief as it rolled on its axis so that the tip was now pointing at Jake instead of him.

Sean's eyes popped open. "Whoa! Did you feel that?"

He grabbed his pillow and threw it at Patrick's head. "Hey, did you feel that?" he repeated.

Patrick grunted, threw the pillow back at Sean, but missed and hit the floor. He stuck his head under his own pillow.

Toby stared at Sean, his mouth hanging open. "You...you _felt_ that?" he asked, stunned.

"Yeah, did you feel it, too? It wasn't a big one. Patrick and I were in a tournament in California once, and there was a 6.4. That was really cool!" he grinned. "Stuff crashed on the floor with that one."

Toby continued to stare uncomprehendingly at Sean.

Sean raised his eyebrows. "Earthquake? Things shake, you know?"

Toby swallowed hard. Earthquake. He fell back onto his pillow, covering his face with his hands, and began to laugh.

His chest heaved he laughed so hard, and Sean started laughing even though he didn't know what was so funny.

Patrick lifted a corner of the pillow and peered out with a pained expression. "Something is funny at o-dawn-thirty?" he demanded.

Toby gasped for breath. His stomach hurt and a few helpless tears had rolled down his face. He shook his head, tried to speak, but started laughing again.

Patrick let the pillow fall back over his face.

Sean retrieved his pillow and lay back down again. He would get an explanation from Toby later. Right now, he thought, Patrick had the right idea.

Toby's laughter tailed off. He let his eyelids drift closed, feeling impossibly content. Sighing hugely, he rolled onto his side, deciding there was time for a little more sleep before breakfast.

Jake managed to sleep through the entire episode, earthquake and all.

Even this day, Dara did laps in the pool before breakfast. Drew had thought about taking a final hike, but didn't want to miss the time with Dara. They swam, lap after lap, strong, sure strokes that carried them on and on.

Jake wandered up to the barn to say goodbye to Squidward. As he passed Nate's stall, he saw the big horse snuffling up grain from a shallow rubber pan resting on the straw. Sarah stood with her arms around his neck, one hand raking the coarse hairs of his mane. Jake stopped, his feet scuffing the dirt, and she turned at the sound. Tears streaked her face.

He gazed at her silently, his face calm. "He's a good horse," he said softly, nodding his understanding.

Sarah nodded in return. "He is a good horse." She smiled through her tears. "See ya, Jake."

Jake gave her a crooked grin. "Later, Sarah." He moved on to Squidward's stall. Patting the soft nose, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the handful of baby carrots he'd snagged from the kitchen. He felt the velvety lips move across his palm, hoovering up the carrots and making short work of them with very large, efficient teeth.

Things will be different, Jake thought, the same, but different. To his astonishment and secret delight, Ron had already made plans to visit him and his mom in New Mexico. He told Jake he'd always wanted to see the Sangre de Cristo mountains, and now he had three reasons to go to New Mexico.

Jake smiled, giving Squidward a final pat. He was going home. He would get to see Ron again. He had Caroline's phone number and picture in his cell phone, and her email, too. She had threatened him with dire consequences if he failed to text, write, or call her. She said at the very least, they could trade recipes. That was assuming he learned how to cook. He was already an expert at eating. He'd talk to his mom about it. And he had Jim. Jim whom he had never fooled, who had his back no matter what. How lucky could he be?

"Corn nuts!" Corinne grinned into the camera. She leaned on the oven with one hand, a shovel in the other. Jim snapped the picture.

"Hey, I'll take one of you both, if you want," they heard Cal say. He continued walking up the hill until he stood by them, holding out his hand for the camera.

"Oh, and one of me and Rocky, too, OK?" she asked.

Cal handed the camera back to Jim, stooped and picked up Rocky with a grunt of effort. "Dang, you are one solid dog!"He placed him in Corinne's arms, and Rocky got in one good lick to her chin just as Jim took the picture.

Jim laughed and turned the camera around to show her. Rocky looked up at her adoringly, a long pink tongue plastered to her face.

"Perfect! Now, us!"

Cal took back the camera and snapped several shots of them, then Jim took one of Cal, Corinne, and Rocky. Corinne wanted one of Cal and Jim, so they posed on either side of the oven. "Say squirrel!" she sang out.

Jim uncharacteristically rolled his eyes, then gave up and smiled for her. Cal laughed as she got the shot, gave her a quick hug and winked at Jim. "A jumper cable walks into a bar," he began.

Instead of groaning, Jim and Corinne grinned at him. "What happened?!" they chorused.

Cal took a deep breath. "Jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, Ill serve you, but don't start anything."

This time they did groan, but Cal was already ambling off toward the lodge. Rocky seemed inclined to stay with Corinne, but a sharp whistle sent him flying after Cal.

Left alone with Jim, Corinne became suddenly fascinated with her shoes. For this special morning, she had chosen her favorite pair of Van's, blue and white plaid with black laces, along with orange capris, a t-shirt with broad green stripes, and a silver filigree clip holding back her curls in a thick ponytail.

Jim cleared his throat ostentatiously. When she finally got the nerve to look up he was smiling at her with such tenderness that she lost her breath.

"I am going to miss you so much," he said simply, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, yeah? What will you miss most?" she managed, her eyes holding a teasing challenge.

He folded his lips as though deep in thought. "Probably...no one asking me to pronounce "squirrel"."

"I love it when you say "squirrel". She laid her hand along side his jaw, smiling, and leaned in to place her lips softly on his.

"Squirrel, squirrel, squirrel," he said, when she pulled back.

Laughing, she kissed him again, three times in quick succession. This time when she tried to pull back, he gathered her in close and held on. Her hands were folded against his chest and she stood there, head resting on his shoulder, content.

Dara stopped outside Drew's cabin door, waiting for him to get whatever he wanted her to have. She wrapped the towel more securely around herself, and watched a ladybug crawl up the doorframe. And then he was back, filling the doorway, a quiet presence that soothed and gladdened her heart.

He silently handed her a slim folder. Opening it slowly, she saw that it contained a single drawing. It had been done in colored pencil, the fine strokes bringing to life a forest pool. Tall pines encircled the tiny glade, feathery ferns and pockets of flowers dotted the grass and led up to the water's edge, the pool itself a clear, unbroken surface except for the still figure standing in a shaft of greenish light.

Dara gasped. "She's beautiful!" she breathed, tracing a finger over the elf's flowing hair, taking in her strength, the intelligent eyes, the mouth full of mischief and humor.

"She's you."

Dara looked up so quickly she almost dropped the picture. She shook her head in denial, and Drew merely pointed at the figure in the drawing.

She looked more closely, staring at the face, and then her eyes blurred. Her voice shaking a little, she asked "Is this...is this really how you see me?"

Drew took the picture from her trembling hand, put it back in the folder, and set it down on the step. He took her hands, willing her to meet his eyes. When she did, he said again, "She's you....minus the pointed ears, of course, but everything else...she's you."

Dara couldn't speak. She just stared at him for a few seconds, then wrapped her arms around his neck and subsided onto his chest.

"Does this mean you like it?" He stroked the back of her hair, releasing a faint whiff of chlorine, a smell with good associations for him.

She pushed away, yanking up her towel a little farther, and nodded solemnly. "Drew...I..." she gave up, taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

Drew's arms went around her and he returned the kiss so sweetly Dara did not want to stop. When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his chin on the top of her head, and with a satisfied sigh, held on to her.

"Thank you," he heard her whisper after a moment, and his arms tightened around her.

"You both have real talent, you know. I almost hate to admit that to this one, considering the head he's got on him..." Ron teased, tilting his head toward Patrick.

"Hey!" Patrick cried in mock injury.

Sean gave him a superior look, and Patrick started to go after him, but Ron's next words stopped him.

"Would you rather play lacrosse or voice cartoons?"

"Both," Patrick replied without hesitation.

Ron grinned. "That's what I expected. So, for you, I'll look forward to seeing you play a college or professional game sometime, and hearing your voice in a Pixar flick or on Nickelodeon."

He turned to Sean. "And you...," Ron pretended to give it some thought. "A unique combination of strength, loyalty, honesty, intelligence, and athleticism. You look so much alike, and I see some shared traits, but there are many ways you stand out as individuals. I'd appreciate it if you'd send me a text or an email sometime, Sean, and let me know what you and Patrick are up to."

Dazed from Ron's compliments, Sean could only manage a faint, "Sure." He clasped Ron's outstretched hand.

Ron's firm grip relaxed as he turned to offer his hand to Patrick.

"Thanks for everything, man," Patrick told him, in his own voice and with heartfelt sincerity.

Breakfast had been relatively quiet. People exchanged numbers and shared plans while they ate. Noreen got up to say a few words, thanking everyone for being part of what had been, to her, a very special time, and inviting them to come back the following summer. Shelley and Cal made short speeches, and for once, Cal refrained from making or even threatening to make any jokes. Ron also thanked everyone, praising kids and parents alike for giving of themselves to come to camp, to learn, to forge friendships, and to have fun.

There were a few tears as people filed out of the lodge, scattering in different directions to do final cabin checks, pick up luggage, take a last look around, and say their goodbyes. Dara's dad was impatient to get on the road, glowering nearby as Dara hugged first Toby, then Corinne, Caroline, and finally, Drew. They all turned to wave as the McConnell's pulled away from the parking lot, Patrick hanging out the window, shouting goodbye in a Munchkin voice, actually several Munchkin voices.

Corinne's dad finished loading up the CRV, and Allison had to let go of Rocky to get in the car. Jim and his mother walked up to wish them a safe journey. They were staying on for a few more days before flying back to Australia. Jim pulled Corinne aside while Nicky spoke with Corinne's dad. They had already said everything that needed saying earlier in the day. She put her arms around him and tried to memorize everything about the moment, the warmth of his body as he held her tightly, the smell of pine mingled with Jim's eucalyptus shampoo, the sounds of people laughing, car doors slamming, and tires rolling on gravel. She did not waste time babbling, simply enjoyed everything that filled her senses.

Jake came up as Corinne opened the car door. "Hey, not leaving without saying goodbye to me, are you?"

Corinne grinned, and he pulled her into a quick hug, shutting the door for her after she got in the car.

Jake had loaded his own luggage, along with his mom's, in the old Ford truck. Ron would be driving them to the airport. He was very glad they were flying back, instead of taking the bus. He clasped hands with Jim, and then they were hugging each other. Jake pulled back, gave Jim a thumbs up and a smile, and made his way to the truck. Camp had been nothing like what he'd expected, except maybe for the s'mores. He had not sung any songs, made any crafts (the treasure map didn't count, he thought), and he hadn't even seen a canoe. He did have a cell phone full of new contacts, a giant seed pod, two portraits that told him more than he ever thought to face about himself, and a smile that kept popping up at odd times for no apparent reason. He slid next to his mom on the truck's bench seat, and Ron pulled slowly away. Jake's hand rested on top of the doorframe, fingers drumming to a tune, though his ear buds dangled down the front of his shirt. The sun warmed his face and a smile played around the corners of his mouth.

The End

About the Author

Lucinda grew up swimming past the breakers and occasionally making lifeguards nervous, and building forts and hunting for lizards in the chaparral. Now she lives in Idaho, where she enjoys exploring mountains, rivers, and deserts, and is entertained by two schnorgis, a smarty-pants with ears a jackalope would envy, and another, loveably half a bubble off plumb. She is a nurse in her day job, loves Star Trek and horny toads, and is grateful for kind people.

