since Mom and Dad were halfway to Honduras by now. Still, I had to try to reach them.
“Okay, settle down, ladies!” Emily called over the din. “I’m not sure how many other counselors are taking their kids—let alone how many are going to help their kids be extras with mad skills like this.” She moonwalked a few steps and spun in a circle, showing off her moves. “Not everyone is a fly chick like me, right, girls?”
A fly chick?
While we puzzled out another Emily-ism, she sighed.
“Never mind. Just keep the news on the down-low.” She smiled at me. “Now let’s see what Alex got.”
I’d forgotten about my present in the rush of news. I zippered my dress, twined my damp hair into curls, and picked up the present. A loud rip sounded in the hush as I tore the brown paper loose. My friends crowded around me.
Wouldn’t it be cool if I’d gotten the fictional version of that movie that was being filmed— Mine Forever? Not that I cared about mining, but I was curious now.
“A Girl’s Guide to Growing Up,” I read aloud, then frowned. What. The. Hell. Of course it was nothing remotely cool. “This is written for, like, ten-year-olds.”
“That’s a mean gift.” Piper turned up our window fan. Its blades stirred the humid air but did little to ease the heat or my irritation. I sprayed a cloud of hairspray to tame my frizz, wishing I hadn’t opened the present in front of an audience.
“It’s even nastier than the bottle of Midol Hannah got,” giggled Piper as she knelt and knotted her sandals’ hemp strings.
The mention of Hannah distracted me from the dumb gift. “Hey, did you guys notice she’s got something going on with Julian?”
“Hannah?” My cabin mates all chorused at once. Well, all but Yasmine who didn’t have the long history with the Divas’ Den girls that we did.
“Yeah. I think they’re like…a couple or something.” It sounded strange to say, but that’s the vibe I’d gotten when they’d exchanged looks at the bonfire.
Trinity shrugged. “The Divas’ Den girls aren’t so bad anymore.”
They’d had their moments at the end of last summer when they’d awarded us the dance trophy after a tie. It had been cool.
“The jury’s still out on that one.” Jackie snorted and swiped on deodorant. “And no matter who Hannah is with, I say the Midol is good for her. She’s always P.M.S.ing.”
“For her.” I held up the book. “But what about my present? I’m sixteen, not ten.”
“Act your age, not your shoe size,” Emily sang in a falsetto that halted our conversations. She laughed and threw her hands up. “Sorry. Random Prince reference.” Her eyes met our blank stares. “You know—the Artist Formerly Known as Prince?”
We shook our heads, clueless as ever about most of what Emily said.
“The ’80s pop star?” Emily’s brow wrinkled. “Anyone?”
Our eyes met one another’s, and then we nodded—our trademark way of dealing with Emily-isms without hurting her feelings.
Siobhan’s bunk squeaked when I sat and passed the book her way. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot on the floor. Did my Secret So-Not-an-Angel think I was juvenile? Needed to grow up? Past lectures from my father echoed from ear to ear. How many times do we have to tell you, Alex? When are you going to act responsibly, young lady? Why don’t you ever listen? Only I did listen and what I heard was, “You aren’t good enough.” I popped in three pieces of gum, chewed until they were soft enough for a bubble, and blew, distracting me from the sound of his discouraging voice. It popped with a satisfying snap.
Maybe Vijay sent the Secret Camp Angel book. The more my mind turned over the possibility, the more convinced I became. He’d called me a prude and a virgin. Now this book said I was a child. It had to be him, the jerk. If Javier and I hung out tonight, Vijay would think twice about calling me immature. He’d be wishing he hadn’t treated me like
“Okay, settle down, ladies!” Emily called over the din. “I’m not sure how many other counselors are taking their kids—let alone how many are going to help their kids be extras with mad skills like this.” She moonwalked a few steps and spun in a circle, showing off her moves. “Not everyone is a fly chick like me, right, girls?”
A fly chick?
While we puzzled out another Emily-ism, she sighed.
“Never mind. Just keep the news on the down-low.” She smiled at me. “Now let’s see what Alex got.”
I’d forgotten about my present in the rush of news. I zippered my dress, twined my damp hair into curls, and picked up the present. A loud rip sounded in the hush as I tore the brown paper loose. My friends crowded around me.
Wouldn’t it be cool if I’d gotten the fictional version of that movie that was being filmed— Mine Forever? Not that I cared about mining, but I was curious now.
“A Girl’s Guide to Growing Up,” I read aloud, then frowned. What. The. Hell. Of course it was nothing remotely cool. “This is written for, like, ten-year-olds.”
“That’s a mean gift.” Piper turned up our window fan. Its blades stirred the humid air but did little to ease the heat or my irritation. I sprayed a cloud of hairspray to tame my frizz, wishing I hadn’t opened the present in front of an audience.
“It’s even nastier than the bottle of Midol Hannah got,” giggled Piper as she knelt and knotted her sandals’ hemp strings.
The mention of Hannah distracted me from the dumb gift. “Hey, did you guys notice she’s got something going on with Julian?”
“Hannah?” My cabin mates all chorused at once. Well, all but Yasmine who didn’t have the long history with the Divas’ Den girls that we did.
“Yeah. I think they’re like…a couple or something.” It sounded strange to say, but that’s the vibe I’d gotten when they’d exchanged looks at the bonfire.
Trinity shrugged. “The Divas’ Den girls aren’t so bad anymore.”
They’d had their moments at the end of last summer when they’d awarded us the dance trophy after a tie. It had been cool.
“The jury’s still out on that one.” Jackie snorted and swiped on deodorant. “And no matter who Hannah is with, I say the Midol is good for her. She’s always P.M.S.ing.”
“For her.” I held up the book. “But what about my present? I’m sixteen, not ten.”
“Act your age, not your shoe size,” Emily sang in a falsetto that halted our conversations. She laughed and threw her hands up. “Sorry. Random Prince reference.” Her eyes met our blank stares. “You know—the Artist Formerly Known as Prince?”
We shook our heads, clueless as ever about most of what Emily said.
“The ’80s pop star?” Emily’s brow wrinkled. “Anyone?”
Our eyes met one another’s, and then we nodded—our trademark way of dealing with Emily-isms without hurting her feelings.
Siobhan’s bunk squeaked when I sat and passed the book her way. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot on the floor. Did my Secret So-Not-an-Angel think I was juvenile? Needed to grow up? Past lectures from my father echoed from ear to ear. How many times do we have to tell you, Alex? When are you going to act responsibly, young lady? Why don’t you ever listen? Only I did listen and what I heard was, “You aren’t good enough.” I popped in three pieces of gum, chewed until they were soft enough for a bubble, and blew, distracting me from the sound of his discouraging voice. It popped with a satisfying snap.
Maybe Vijay sent the Secret Camp Angel book. The more my mind turned over the possibility, the more convinced I became. He’d called me a prude and a virgin. Now this book said I was a child. It had to be him, the jerk. If Javier and I hung out tonight, Vijay would think twice about calling me immature. He’d be wishing he hadn’t treated me like
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