Part 11 (1/2)
”Trust me, you do,” Mr. Myner said.
Dylan folded her arms across her chest and stuck her tongue out at him the second he looked away.
”Do I need to remind you that your performance on this trip is worth extra credit?”
The girls immediately turned to one another to discuss what to save and what to surrender. While they debated, Mr. Myner made the rounds with a big green garbage bag. One by one they reached into their handbags and dumped their bubble gum, sugar-free gum, Luna bars, yogurt bars, wheat-free bars, carob chocolate bars, and baked Lays into the bag. Layne tossed her tube of Go-Gurt in and swore up and down that it was her last.
”If it's all right with you, Ms. Block, we took the liberty of leaving your five cases of vitamin water on the bus.”
”Whatevs.” Ma.s.sie shrugged.
”Next I am coming around for all of your electronics, so please have those out,” he said. ”Cell phones, Sidekicks, BlackBerries, video games, DVD players, and computers-all of it. A violation buys you a ticket home, no exceptions.”
Mr. Myner ignored the enraged protests that followed and stayed his course.
”And another thing,” he said. ”Claire and Layne, you will have to get rid of your glittery shoes.” He pointed to their rhinestone-covered sneakers. ”They attract bears and other wild beasts.”
”Yes!” Ma.s.sie lifted her hands above her head and punched the air with her fists.
Layne sighed and started picking the black rhinestones off her Chucks. Claire simply took hers off and dumped them in his trash bag.
”You too, Ma.s.sie,” Mr. Myner said.
”Ew, puh-lease, I would never wear glittery sneakers,” Ma.s.sie insisted.
”Your necklaces,” he said. ”The light reflects off them as well.”
”I can't.” Ma.s.sie grabbed her chains like they were her life support.
”You will.” Mr. Myner held out his hand.
Ma.s.sie ran her fingers through the gold tangles around her neck, separating one chain from the other. When she found the one she was looking for, she held it in the air like an Olympic medalist showing off her gold. ”This one has a compa.s.s. And I'll need that out here.”
Mr. Myner stepped over the girls on the floor on his way over to Ma.s.sie. She held the round gold compa.s.s in front of his face while he examined it closely. He lifted it in his manly chapped palm and turned it in every direction to make sure the needle moved.
”Ow, you're choking me.” Ma.s.sie rubbed her neck.
”Fine.” Mr. Myner dropped the compa.s.s. ”But the rest have to go.”
Ma.s.sie grinned. In the context of this day, she considered this a major victory.
”You have exactly ten minutes to wash up and dress warmly. I'd like to see you all in front of Powwow Log at fourteen hundred hours. That's the big stump to the right of the dining pavilion.”
Olivia raised her hand.
”Yes, Olivia?”
”My watch only goes up to twelve,” she said.
Everyone laughed. Olivia looked around with a confused expression on her face.
”Fourteen hundred is military time for two o'clock,” Mr. Myner said kindly. ”I will be happy to explain how it works if you'd like.”
”Nah.” Olivia waved him away. ”It's not like I'm going to join or anything, but thanks anyway.”
Mr. Myner raised his voice so he could be heard over the laughter. ”The Adirondack park patrol will stop by to remove your excess luggage and put it in storage. Please cooperate with them.” He turned the k.n.o.b on the cabin door and looked back at the girls with a satisfied smile on his face. ”Welcome to paradise!” He threw open the door and breathed in the crisp, sun-drenched mountain air. ”Ahhhhh.” He exhaled, then left.
Ma.s.sie reached for her PalmPilot to enter her latest State of the Union only to realize Mr. Myner had confiscated it. Maybe Kristen didn't have it so bad after all.
LAKE PLACID, NEW YORK FOREVER WILD CAMPSITE POWWOW LOG.
Monday, February 23rd 2:02 P.M. P.M.
”I bet she's memorizing TV Guide TV Guide.” Alicia b.u.t.toned her gray cashmere Ralph Lauren coat.
”I bet she's checking out the sales at Target,” Dylan guessed.
”You're all wrong,” Ma.s.sie said. ”She's probably working on her college admissions essay.”
While the girls played guess-what-Kristen's-doing on their walk to Powwow Log, Claire tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of twigs snapping beneath her two-toned boots. It was a little game she'd just invented called step 'n' snap. The object was to crack a twig with every step she took. It was her latest attempt to take her mind off of Cam and focus on something else. But it wasn't working. Didn't he miss her at all? Was she that easy to get over?
Cam's unmistakable snicker instantly distracted her-a cross between a giggle and a rusty jackhammer. He was standing ten feet away on Powwow Log, with his hands stuffed into the side pockets of his brown leather jacket. He was kicking his heels into the thick, dry wood and talking to Plovert, who was leaning on a crutch, trying to stay balanced on the soft ground.
”Look how tough he is.” Dylan tapped her heart when she saw Plovert. ”One working leg and he's out here braving the elements.”
”Why don't you go over there and tell him how you've been madly in love with him since eight-thirty this morning?” Ma.s.sie gave Dylan a playful shove.
”Shut up!” Dylan smacked Ma.s.sie lightly on the arm.
Within seconds the two girls were throwing pine needles in each other's hair and laughing hysterically.
Claire wondered if they knew they had an audience, then a.s.sumed they did. Ma.s.sie rarely did anything without one.
”Catfight!” Derrington shouted as he approached the log with Kemp Hurley and Josh Hotz. Five other guys lagged behind them, but Claire didn't even know their names. According to the Pretty Committee, they didn't count because: 1) They never bothered to flirt.
2) They weren't on the soccer team.
3) They were barely tall enough to turn on a light switch.
”Watch out,” Ma.s.sie shouted. ”We're coming for you next.”
Claire admired Ma.s.sie for being able to act comfortable around Derrington even though she wasn't. How did she do it? If only Claire could pretend to be happy without Cam. But it was impossible. Every time she tried, her voice sounded higher than usual and her movements felt foreign and exaggerated, like she was watching a bad actress play the role of Claire Lyons in the movie version of her pathetic love life.
”Bring it!” Derrington put up his dukes and punched the air.
”Hold me back.” Ma.s.sie pretended to lunge toward Derrington but stayed close to her girls.
”Relax.” Mr. Dingle jogged up behind Derrington, grabbed his fists, and lowered them. ”We're not here to beat up the girls.”