Now George smiled as she turned to Bess. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, “but it’s awesome.”
Bess widened her eyes. “George?” She reached out and put a hand on her cousin’s forehead. George groaned and dodged away.
“I know,” she said, “embracing a bunch of seven-year-olds is maybe not expected for George Fayne. But it happened, and I’m not ashamed. I’m loving my bunk. How about you?” she asked Bess.
Bess tilted her head from side to side. “So far, so good,” she said. “I love my campers. They’re great. It is kind of a challenge, dealing with the whole group dynamic. Like, we had this whole battle today between the kids who are still super into Frozen and the ones who think Frozen is for babies.”
“Who won?” I asked. “I hope it was the over-it ones, or you’ll have to hear ‘Let It Go,’ like, two hundred times over the next six days.”
Bess snorted. “Next six days?” she asked. “You’re so out of touch, over there in ten-year-old land. I’ve heard it five hundred times today alone. Luckily, I like the song.” She began belting out her own version, but George quickly shushed her.
“How about you, Nancy?” Bess asked. I gave her an edited version of my adventures with the girls that day. Bess nodded. “Sounds like you and Maya are really gelling,” she said. “That’s great.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, glancing over to where Maya was sitting over on the other side of the circle with some other CITs. She was laughing and gesticulating wildly, clearly having a great time. “She’s terrific.”
Just then Deborah stood up and rang a cowbell she was holding, calling the campfire to order. “Campers, welcome!” she called. “I’m so happy to have you all here. I know that most of the campers are too young to remember, but some of the counselors and CITs may recall that at Camp Larksong, we always used to light this torch to symbolize the beginning of camp. The torch will stay lit all week, until we put it out on the last morning.”
She moved back so that we could all see a large, metal-based torch that sat up in a clear area several yards from the campfire.
“Miles, are we ready to light it?” Deborah asked. Miles moved out of the shadows, igniting a long butane lighter, the kind you would use to light a grill. Everyone grew quiet as he walked over to the torch.
Deborah closed her eyes and said, “With eager hearts and minds, we light this torch to symbolize all the good times, precious memories, and lifelong friends we will make over the next week at Camp Cedarbark. May this torch light our way to happiness!”
“May this torch light our way to happiness!” the campers—and counselors—repeated.
Miles touched the lighter to the torch, and it blazed into a huge flame. I gasped. It was surprising and beautiful. When I looked over at Bess, I saw that her eyes were wet. She glanced at me and gave me an embarrassed smile.
“Oh, shush,” she whispered. “You know this camp means a lot to me.”
I hope it’ll mean a lot to me after this week too, I thought. For the first time since we’d arrived, I felt really grateful to Bess for convincing us to come to Camp Cedarbark.
As I was turning back to the fire, I caught a glimpse of Bella out of the corner of my eye. She was wiping her eye too, staring into the flame. And her cheeks were bright pink, like she’d just been running, or—crying?
I wondered what was going on with her.
The rest of the campfire passed in a haze of songs, games, and one “spooky” (but not really) story from Miles about a bear he claimed used to hang around “a camp just like this one!” It was more corny than scary, but still, the campers shrieked and giggled. I was glad they were having a good time.
By the time the campfire ended and it was time to lead my campers back to Juniper Cabin, I felt ready to drop. I clicked on the flashlight I’d brought and slowly trooped up the path back to the main camp. Juniper Cabin was completely dark. I noticed footprints on the dirt path leading up to the door but figured we must have made them earlier, when we’d stopped by the cabin before the campfire.
Inside, the campers flitted around, grabbing their own flashlights from their dressers and flicking them on.
“Who’s first in the bathroom?” Kiki called. “We have three sinks and three stalls, people. Who wants first shift?”
“Me!” called Cece.
“Me!” called Katie.
But I noticed Nina standing in the middle of the room, shining her flashlight beam on each bunk. “Guys . . . ,” she said.
I looked where she was gesturing. Something was missing, but what . . . ?
“Oh my gosh!” I shrieked as it hit me. Maya and all the campers turned to me in alarm.
“Guys!” I cried, pointing at the bare mattresses. “Our sleeping bags are gone! Somebody stole all our sleeping bags!”
CHAPTER SIX
A Sleepless Night
“OH NO!”
“Are you kidding?”