My Extra Best Friend (7 page)

Her fingers twitch and I see a chip of orange polish sparkle on each nail.

I frown and sit up a notch.

She hates orange,
I think to George.
It always reminds her of real oranges, which are hard to peel and have those sticky white strings.

I lean forward, squinting to see if her fingernails really are painted orange or if I need glasses too.

My bed creaks.

Elizabeth’s eyes pop open.

So do mine.

She blinks a few times. Yawns. Rubs away the sleep. “What are you looking at?” she whispers to me.

“Um…” I reply, shrinking back. “I thought…I saw something. Under your bed. A mouse maybe. Or a squirrel.”

Elizabeth pulls her sleeping bag off the floor. “Really?” she says, reaching for her glasses.

I nod. “They sneak in sometimes. Looking for food.”

“But there’s no food in here,” Elizabeth whispers. She puts on her glasses and looks around. “Is there?”

I do a very casual snort. “Duh-
no
.” Then I force myself not to look at Brooke’s backpack. Elizabeth doesn’t know about the snacks. I want to keep it that way.

But, sometimes, the more you try not to do something, the more you can’t help but do it. My eyes dart to the backpack on Brooke’s bottom bunk. It’s as plump as a Thanksgiving turkey. When I look at Elizabeth again, her eyes are fixed on it too. The only thing in the room that’s still zipped up tight.

Elizabeth turns to me and does a sly grin, like she’s Sherlock Holmes or something. “There
is
food in here,” she whispers. “That’s why Jenna spazzed last night at the campfire when Jolene wanted to save a marshmallow for the chipmunk she saw on our cabin steps. What was it Jenna said to Jolene? Oh yeah. ‘Between you and Brooke, Chickadee is going to turn into Noah’s Ark.’”

She studies Brooke’s backpack again, still grinning. “You guys brought snacks!”

I do an
I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about
look.

Elizabeth does an
I-know-I’m-right
look back.

I squint. “You better not tell.”

She grins bigger. “Why not?”

“Because those snacks are none of your business. Because friends don’t tell on each other.”

She leans in. Her grin tightens. “So we’re friends now, huh? You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I wasn’t talking about—”

Beep! Beep! Bee
—
!

Jenna shifts above me. The beeping stops. A moment later, two fuzzy braids hang over the edge of her bed. So does Jenna’s sleepy face.

“Rise and shine,” she says in a groggy voice. “Breakfast in thirty minutes.” Then she lumbers down and starts waking up the other girls.

I turn back to Elizabeth, but she’s already out of bed, pulling clothes from her suitcase. She ducks into the bathroom.

I scramble out of my sleeping bag and find the notepaper my mom packed for me in case I get the sudden urge to write a letter home. I grab a
gel pen, bite off the cap, and start scribbling what I didn’t finish saying to her. All capital letters, so she’ll know I mean business.

I WASN’T TALKING ABOUT
ME
.
I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE OTHER GIRLS.
IF YOU WANT
THEM
TO BE YOUR FRIENDS,
THEN YOU
BETTER NOT TELL!

I drop the note on Elizabeth’s bed, grab my clothes, and stomp to the bathroom.

“Whoa,” Randi says, inching away as I get in line behind her. “Someone’s not a morning person.”

Stacey looks over from her bunk. Her hair is so poufy, eagles could build a nest in it. “What’s wrong?” she asks me.

“Nothing,” I grumble. “I just got up on the wrong side of the bed. The
Elizabeth
side.”

“Why? Does Liz snore?” Meeka asks, straightening her sleeping bag.

“No,” I reply. “She just talks too much.”

“In her sleep?” Jolene asks.

I shake my head. “In her
awake
.”

“So switch bunks.” Jenna gets in line behind
me with her towel and toothbrush. “Take the one above her. Then you’ll be closer to me.”

“Yeah, come up to
my
level,” Brooke says, still lounging on her top bunk. “The view is fantabulous!”

The bathroom door opens. Elizabeth steps out. Everyone goes hush-hush.

Elizabeth looks around suspiciously. “What did I miss?” she asks.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Jenna snips.

“Ida’s moving,” Brooke tells her. “To a top bunk.” Then she slides down, grabs some clothes from the tangled heap on her bottom bunk, and slips into the bathroom ahead of Randi.

“Hey!” Randi shouts, pounding on the door. “No cuts!”

Brooke clicks the lock.

“Hold this,” I say to Jenna, handing her my bathroom stuff. Then I march past Elizabeth, gather up my sleeping bag, and throw it onto the bed above hers.

George grunts when he hits the mattress. Maybe he’s not a morning monkey. Or maybe he’s not a fan of moving.

But this is
my
decision.

It’s my turn to leave Elizabeth Evans behind.

I get back in line and take my stuff from Jenna. “I feel better already,” I say to her, hoping Elizabeth hears me.

Jenna nods. “I knew you would.”

Brooke bursts from the bathroom a minute later dressed in a bright orange cami and orange-striped shorts. Her hair is brushed long and smooth. She strikes a pose.

Randi scowls and shoves past her, slamming the bathroom door.

Brooke scoffs. “How R-U-D
rude
.” Then she struts around the cabin, modeling her orange outfit. “It’s
new,
” she tells us.

“Nice!” Elizabeth says as Brooke step-turns in front of her. “I
love
orange, see?” She wiggles her sparkly orange fingernails at Brooke.

Brooke gives Elizabeth an approving smile. “There’s hope for you yet, Liz
butt
Evans.”

I just shake my head, watching Elizabeth giggle as Brooke glamour poses around her.
Buddying up to Brooke? Pretending to like orange best? She must be desperate to get friends.

Brooke twirls back to her bunk.

Elizabeth sets down her stuff.

She sees the note on her bed.

Picks it up.

Starts to read.

I watch out of the corner of my eye, waiting for her face to pinch when she finishes. When she realizes it won’t work to buddy up to
me
.

“Your turn, Ida,” Jenna says as Randi comes out of the bathroom. She’s wearing a big boyish T-shirt. It’s almost as long as her cargo shorts.
Sarcasm is my specialty
is printed across it.

Brooke glances over. Wrinkles her nose at the T-shirt. “Where did you get
that
?” she asks.

Randi puffs up her chest and grins. “Swiped it from my brother. I got a whole collection. Wanna borrow one?”

“
No
thank you,” Brooke snips. She straightens the straps on her orange top. “And please don’t sit by me at breakfast.”

Randi snaps her fingers. “Darn.”

“Go, Ida!” Jenna says, nudging me impatiently toward the bathroom. “The bell is going to ring in seventeen minutes!”

“Yes, please do hurry, Ida
dear,
” Brooke adds, brushing out her already brushed hair. “I have places to go and people to impress.”

I step into the bathroom, glancing back at Elizabeth.

She’s by the wastebasket now.

Crumpling my note into a hard paper pebble.

She pitches it into the trash.

Plink!

Then she looks at me.

Does that annoying smile-grin.

“Ha-ha, beat you!” Rusty shouts fifteen minutes later as Alex leads us up to the dining hall. Quinn, Joey, and Tom are there too, standing near the door with their counselor, Connor. Pajama pants. Wrinkled T-shirts. Crusty eyes. Messy hair. They look the same as always.

Brooke crosses her arms and tilts her hips. “Haven’t you ever heard of
ladies first
?”

“Yep,” Rusty replies. “Show us where they are, and we’ll let them take cuts.”

All the boys snort.

Brooke squints.

“Hi, Elizabeth!” Tom says. “Good to see you again.”

Elizabeth smiles. “Same to you, Tom.”

“Did you come to camp with Ida?” he asks.

I stiffen.

“No,” Elizabeth replies quickly. “I came alone.”

Quinn scratches his head, confused. “You guys know each other?”

“Duh, Quinn,” Brooke cuts in. “It’s
Liz Evans.
She used to go to our school. Now she’s moving back.”

Tom perks up. “You are?”

Elizabeth nods. “I already have, actually. My parents are painting my new bedroom this week!”

“Ooo…what color?” Jolene asks.

“Blue!” Elizabeth replies.

“Knew it,” I mumble.

“You should text your parents immediately,” Brooke says. “Tell them blue is
out,
orange is
in
.” She flicks back her hair from her orange top. “Then I can plan an orange-themed sleepover!” She thinks for a moment. “Everyone will wear orange, of course. And bring orange snacks. Gummy bears…cheese puffs…orange soda. We
can even write the invitations on actual
oranges
! And call it the
Orange
You Glad Liz Moved Back Snooze-Fest
!”

Brooke squeals with excitement. She loves to plan parties. Once, when a soccer ball split Meeka’s lip in phys ed, Brooke hosted the
Don’t Give Me Any Lip Masquerade
. We all had to wear costumes. And lip sync to Brooke’s favorite songs. Then we ate banana splits. Poor Meeka had to put hers in the blender first so she could sip it through a straw.

“Sounds fun!” Elizabeth says all nicey-nice to Brooke. “But my parents already bought blue paint. And I didn’t bring a cell phone.”

Brooke does a dramatic sigh. “Too bad, so sad. We’ll have to settle for the
Blue Bedroom Bash
. Not nearly as imaginative as orange.”

Quinn studies Elizabeth, rapping a knuckle against his forehead. “Nope. Still not computing.”

Jenna rolls her eyes. “How can you not remember her, Quinn? She built that dumb valentines box in third grade. The
Mountain of Love
?”

Elizabeth twitches when Jenna says that. Her eyes dart to me, then away again. “It was called
the
Volcano
of Love,
” Elizabeth corrects her.

Jenna’s cheeks flash red. She hates being wrong. She hates it more when someone else is right.

“Hey, I remember that volcano,” Tom chimes in. “It was made out of papier-mâché. You had to lift the lava cork to put the valentines inside. Genius.”

Elizabeth gives Tom another smile.

Jenna steams.

“I didn’t move to Purdee until spring that year,” Quinn says. He looks at Elizabeth. “Sorry, but I don’t remember you. Third grade is kind of a blur. It sucks to move.”

Elizabeth nods. “I know.”

Now she and
Quinn
exchange smiles. The kind that says
We know something the others don’t.

The kind that makes you instant friends.

My stomach prickles. Quinn is
my
friend, not hers.

I look around for Alex. “How much longer until we eat?” I say loudly, trying to change the subject and stop all the smiling that’s going on.

Alex looks over from talking with Connor.
“Soon,” she replies, checking her watch. “We could sing a song while we wait.”

Nobody exactly squeals with excitement. It’s hard to get enthused about singing when you haven’t had your breakfast yet. And when your mouth is watering from the scent of bacon in the air.

“Finish the story you started last night,” Joey says to Connor. “I’m dying to know if the Meadowlark Monster ate you and Pete!”

Jenna snorts. “If a monster ate them, they wouldn’t be here.”

“Good point,” Joey says. He looks at Connor again. “Permanently maimed, then. Please?”

Connor rubs his chin. I can hear his whiskers waking up. “Okay, but I better start at the beginning, or the girls will be lost.”

“Too late for that,” Rusty says. “But go ahead.”

“It was a dark and stormy night,” Connor begins in a spooky voice, like we’re sitting around a crackling campfire instead of standing in the soft morning sun. “Pete and I were heading back to camp through the woods, when suddenly, there he was!
The Meadowlark Monster!
”

“Tell them what he looked like,” Joey says.

We all scoot in.

“He was as big as a bear.” Connor holds his arms out wide. “And his fur was matted with dirt and leaves, like he’d just crawled out of a
grave
.”

Meeka gulps.

Jenna huffs and checks her watch.

“He only had one eye left, but it
glowed
enough for two. And when he howled”—Connor does a howl that could seriously make you pee your pants if you hadn’t just gone to the bathroom—“it shook the trees!”

Other campers look over.

Meeka gulps again and squeezes my arm.

“He chased us through the woods, quick as lightning, snatching at us with his huge hands.”

“He’s got hands?” Quinn asks. “He didn’t last night.”

“Um…yeah…” Connor says, the words stumbling out, “…
webbed
hands…covered with
slime
.” He glances at Alex. She rolls her eyes. “Pete and I thought we were goners. But then, we remembered the one thing monsters hate most.”

He pauses, pushing back his floppy orange hair.

“This is where he left off last night,” Tom whispers.

“Tell us!” Joey cries. “What do monsters hate most?”

A smile flits between Connor and Alex.

Connor leans in. “The thing that monsters hate most…” he whispers, “…is
singing
.”

Our faces sag.

“That’s
it
?” Rusty says. “Singing?”

Connor nods. “That’s why monsters only come out at night. When the birds are asleep.”

Jenna does a sassy smirk. “So what did you sing? The Camp Meadowlark theme song?”

Connor shakes his head. “We needed something bigger than that.”

“‘The Star-Spangled Banner’?” Quinn offers.

“Nope,” Connor says. “Bigger. We sang
opera
.”

Jolene giggles. “That fancy music?”