“Thank you for taking care of us!” Winnie said with a grin.
I wasn’t sure the campers understood the full scope of what had happened the night before—and that wasn’t a bad thing, in my mind. They knew that Harper had left camp and I’d gone after her. Deborah had brought Harper, Olivia, and Queenie back to the main camp, where they’d spent the night with Deborah in her safe, locked house. They were all shaken up, but otherwise unhurt. Sam had been brought to the camp nurse, then taken off in an ambulance. She was in a nearby hospital while her parents and the police discussed next steps. Everyone else, including me, Bess, and the rest of the campers, had stayed at the campout site until morning. With the threat removed, Miles saw no reason to move the entire camp back to the cabins in the middle of the night.
The campers had been told that Sam had a breakdown and had to go home. They hadn’t been told about her plot to hurt the girls, or me. I had no problem with that. Knowing wouldn’t make them any safer, and would probably scare them.
I hugged each of the girls in turn. The last was Harper, who stood squinting without her glasses. I gave her the hardest hug of all, not sure what to say to her that could possibly express my gratitude.
“I made you a gift in arts and crafts,” Harper said into my shoulder as I squeezed her.
“You made me a gift?” I asked, amazed. “It’s me who owes you.”
Harper shook her head. “I could have had a terrible time here,” she said, “but you looked out for me. You helped me get to know the other girls. That’s why I did what I did, Nancy. Not everyone cares as much as you do.”
I felt my eyes tearing up and pulled Harper closer in a hug.
“Here,” she said when I let her go. She pushed a sheaf of papers at me.
It was a small homemade book, with a cardboard cover decorated with ornate illustrations. CAMP CEDARBARK was the title. I flipped it open and gasped. The handwritten narrative told the tale of all our adventures at camp—minus the craziest one last night.
Harper looked sheepish. “I finished it yesterday,” she said, “so it leaves some things out.”
“That’s probably fine,” I said with a smile. “Thank you so much, Harper.”
I gave her another huge hug.
“We have to get on the bus,” Harper said, “but can we get your address, Nancy? I’d like to write you letters.”
“Letters?” Cece chuckled. “What is this, 1985? How about e-mail???”
“You can’t draw on e-mail,” Harper said with a shrug.
I handed out little sheets I’d printed up for the campers with my snail mail and e-mail addresses. “Here you go,” I said. “I hope I hear from all of you! I’ll really miss you guys.”
“Me too,” said Maya, handing out her own little slips. The girls took them eagerly and exchanged hugs with her, too.
“Thank you for being such a great counselor and CIT,” Winnie said. “We’ll really miss you both!”
After a bunch more hugs and promises to keep in touch, the girls hefted their bags and took off running for the buses. There, Miles helped them load their luggage in the back and climb on. I waved furiously as they all boarded the steps, then disappeared from view.
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Maya asked, moving over to stand beside me. “We only knew them for a week. A week,” she said.
“It feels like forever,” I replied. “And I hope they will keep in touch.”
Maya smiled. “You’ll keep in touch with me, too, right?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said sincerely, smiling.
As we spoke, Janie and Marcie were running over from where they’d been saying good-bye to Bess and George. They both carried their luggage and sleeping bags. Maya turned back toward the cabin and picked up hers, too.
“Are you leaving already?” George asked, stepping up behind me. “You guys aren’t taking the bus, are you? I thought those were just for campers.”
“They are,” Marcie replied. “But Maya’s dad is giving us all a ride.”
“Yeah!” said Maya excitedly. “It turns out we all live within fifteen minutes of each other.”
Janie nodded. “We’ve already made plans to meet up for a slumber party in a couple of weeks,” she said. “We really want to stay in touch after school starts.”
We all hugged our good-byes, and I whispered to Maya that she really had to write me e-mails, or I would cyberstalk her. Maya just smiled and told me I had nothing to worry about—I would get sick of her e-mails. I told her that was very unlikely.
Once we had all said our farewells, the three CITs grabbed their bags and ran over to the same cool convertible Maya had arrived in. A man I assumed was her dad was at the wheel, I saw, and he tooted his horn in greeting. All three girls piled in and waved to us as the car drove away.
“Amazing,” said George as we watched them go.