Friends ForNever (8 page)

Mary Claire shrugged. “I don't mind.” She reached for the neck of her T-shirt but then stopped herself.

“And your counselor is okay with that?” I was really fuming now. Sarah was in a trance, staring at the grass. Nicole just stood there with one eyebrow raised, like she couldn't wait to get away.

“She's always in the shower. Anyway, she wouldn't care,” said Alyssa.

I stepped up really close to her, trying to intimidate her. “You might not know this, but it's a rule here at Pine Haven that every camper has to make her own bed and do her own chores. If your counselor did find out, she would not be happy. And if Eda, the camp director, finds out, you'll be in big trouble.” I tried to sound like an authority figure.

“That's not true.” Alyssa stood in front of me with her hands on her hips and shook her head.

“Yes, it is!” I looked at Mary Claire. “Mary Claire, you don't have to do her chores for her, okay? If
this girl
gives you any problems, come to us.”

“Bossy Middlers,” I heard Alyssa say as we walked off.

“Thanks for backing me up, guys. You were a huge help,” I said to the two mutes beside me.

Sarah looked up. “Oh. Sorry. Who were those kids?”

Nicole shot me a quick glance. “The fat one lives in my neighborhood. She's always following me around.”

“The fat one? You are so mean,” I snapped. “You better not call her that to her face. You'll give her an eating disorder.”

“What are you so mad about?” asked Nicole.

“Hello? Did your spaceship just land? Doesn't it make you mad to see your . . .
neighbor
bossed around like that?” I wasn't sure which made me madder—the way that brat had treated Mary Claire or the fact that Nicole didn't even care.

Nicole kept quiet, but I could tell she was offended by the way the corner of her mouth was bent down. Nobody said anything else.

By the time we got to Crafts Cabin, I'd calmed down a little. Gloria Mendoza, the crafts counselor, was busy putting out plastic trays full of fabric strips on all the wooden tables.

“We're making pot holders.” Gloria seemed really sweet, with her soft voice and shy smile. She was new this year. New counselors usually got stuck with a boring activity like crafts because no one else wanted it.

“Thanks. We'll work outside,” I told her. Crafts Cabin had a porch on the back that overlooked the lake. It was shady and cool out there; plus it would give us privacy while we talked. I carried one of the trays out with us and we sat down on the wooden benches.

“Why did I even come along?” moaned Sarah.

“Have you even tried to talk to Whitney?” I asked. I set the tray on the bench between Nic and me so we could both reach it. She still hadn't said anything.

Sarah shook her head. “I can't.” She picked up one of the fabric strips and wrapped it around her thigh, then twisted it like a tourniquet.

I wove a red strip of fabric over and under a row of yellow and green pieces I'd laid out in a crisscross pattern. It was good to have something to do with my hands.

“You know, if Whitney hadn't overheard us, everything would've been fine. Yeah, she was getting on our nerves, but we all like her. And she's your best friend. As mean as it was to say stuff about her behind her back, we weren't trying to hurt her feelings. We were just venting.”

Lots of times I'd vented to one friend about another one, and afterward I always felt better. In some ways I thought it was a good thing. Blowing off a little steam about a friend who was bugging me probably kept me from getting really mad at her.

“I know, but she did hear us. And yeah, she can be annoying at times”—Sarah's voice dropped to a whisper, as if Whitney might be lurking under the porch—“but she's such a good sport. She's always put up with me making fun of her. How many people would do that? And she's a sweet girl. If Whitney had been there when we were dissing someone else, I guarantee you she would've told us to stop it.”

Nicole gave Sarah a skeptical look. “Wait a second. Whitney was criticizing all the new campers—listing all their problems and saying we needed to fix them.”

Sarah let out a low growl and twisted the tourniquet tighter. “It's not the same. She wants everyone to get along. She wants peace, love, and harmony. She's such a good girl!” Sarah wailed. A couple of people sitting inside looked at us through the open door.

“I still say we just apologize to her. We all feel bad about it. We're really and truly sorry. I'm sure she'll forgive us.” If Whitney was such a good girl, how could she turn down a sincere apology?

Sarah twisted a piece of fabric between her fingers. “Okay. I'm going to apologize to her. But I want to do it alone. If you guys want to talk to her after, fine. But I think I owe her a private apology first.”

Nic and I agreed that that was probably a good idea. I wasn't really looking forward to facing her either, but it was something we needed to do.

“When are you going to do it?” asked Nicole.

“I'll go right now. I'll be waiting for her when she comes back from her riding lesson.” She stood up and dropped the fabric pieces back into the tray.

“Good luck,” I told her as she walked away.

Nicole waited till she was sure Sarah was gone. “I don't really get why Sarah's so upset. It doesn't even seem like she likes Whitney that much. I always thought she just liked having her around so she could make fun of her.”

“Well, I guess that's not all there is to their friendship.”

Nicole looked at me. “Are you mad? Because I didn't talk to Mary Claire?”

“No, I'm not
mad,
but I wish you'd stick up for her a little more.”

Nic grinned. “Well, I would, but you're a better big sister than I am.” She handed me her newly finished pot holder. “I made this for you. A token of our friendship.”

I laughed. “How sweet! Guess what? I made you one too!”

“I hope things go better today with Sarah and Whitney,” I told Nicole as we left the cabin for morning activities.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. Sarah's making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be,” said Nic.

Monday after Sarah had left us at Crafts Cabin so determined to apologize to Whitney, I thought we would finally resolve the problem. But she totally chickened out. She told us she'd panicked, that she just couldn't bring herself to face Whitney. This morning Sarah said she was going to try apologizing again at tennis.

Nic and I were on our own for the time being, so we decided to go to the climbing tower.

The climbing tower was gigantic. At the bottom, humongous tree trunks were propped against each other and lashed together at the top with some rope, like a teepee without the skin. Above that were more logs and ropes and a wooden platform at the midway point. Higher up, there was some rope netting that looked like it should be hanging from the crow's nest of some pirate ship. At the very tip-top of the tower was the highest platform, with a roof over the top. I've always wanted a tree house, but our yard didn't have tall enough trees. Getting to the top would be like being in my very own tree house.

“Think I can make it to the top?” I asked Nicole, gazing up at the towering logs and ropes over our heads. So far we'd only made it to the midway point, but I'd always wanted to get to the highest platform, just to see if I could.

“I don't want to go to the top.” Nicole frowned.

“You don't have to. You can belay me while I go. Then we'll switch places.”

We had to wear safety harnesses when we climbed the tower, and every climber had to have someone on the ground belaying her. The belayer would hold the rope and keep enough slack in the line so the climber could climb easily, and if the climber happened to slip, the belayer would pull up the slack so the climber wouldn't fall very far.

“You look like you're ready for a challenge!” said Rachel, handing me a helmet and helping me step into the harness.

“Yeah, definitely!” I said, although my heart was already pounding like crazy and I hadn't even left the ground yet. “How high is it again to the very top?” I hoped my voice didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

“Fifty feet,” Rachel told me, locking the carabiner on my harness to the climbing rope. “But you can practice your climbing skills without going all the way to the top.”

Whew.
Fifty feet
. That was so high. I wanted to back out already! “I'm going to the top!” I blurted out. Saying it out loud committed me. Now I had to do it.

Jerry, the hiking guide, heard me say that and grinned. “Sounds good, but just do what you're comfortable with.” He was helping Brittany, the chatty girl from the Angelhair Falls hike, into her harness. Erin Harmon was belaying her. Rachel and Jerry stood behind the belayers to facilitate.

“Climbing,” I said to Nicole, to let her know I was ready.

“Climb on,” she answered.

The climbing tower was similar to climbing walls in some ways. It had the same kinds of holds all up and down the logs.

I was moving along at a pretty good pace in the beginning; the holds were close together, so it was easy to find my handholds first, then my footholds. Little by little, I was working my way up. But it didn't take long until my arms got tired. I stopped to rest and catch my breath.

I made myself look up and plan out the best way to get to the midway platform. The calf muscles in my left leg started quivering from the exertion I was putting them through. I tried not to think about it. I had only a short way to climb until I was high enough to grab the edge of the platform and wriggle myself onto it.

“Great job, ladies!” Jerry shouted from below us.

It felt so incredibly comforting to have something solid underneath me. I sat perched on the platform and peered over the edge at Nicole and the other belayers on the ground. Looking down made my stomach do flip-flops, so instead I looked up at the maze of beams and ropes over my head.

The top was still at least twenty feet above me. I looked up at the highest platform and imagined myself already up there, looking out over the whole camp and the surrounding woods, feeling such a huge sense of accomplishment because I'd made it.

That was a trick Paul had taught Blake and me when we shot hoops together. He'd tell us to picture the ball swooshing through the net before we made the shot. I wasn't sure if it worked, but it seemed like I'd gotten better lately.

Brittany's head appeared at the edge of the platform, then the rest of her. She pulled herself up so she was sitting beside me. “What a view!” she said when she'd caught her breath.

“I know. Just imagine what it'll be like at the top,” I said.

“This is far enough for me. Are you gonna keep going?” she asked.

“I think so. Wish me luck.” I looked down at Nicole. “Climbing!” I yelled.

“Climb on,” she called back.

I'd never made it this far. I concentrated on finding my foot- and handholds and wouldn't let myself think about how high up I was.

“Up rope,” I yelled down to Nicole because there was too much slack. I wanted to be sure that if I did slip, I wouldn't go very far. I felt her take up the slack from below. Then I let go of the pole so I could reach above me for the next handhold.

I'd made it all the way to the spider's web—the rope ladders that would take me up to the highest platform. It looked like it would be easy to climb, but with every step, the rope webbing swayed, making me feel like I was going to fall right through it. I kept going.

I concentrated on picturing myself at the top, and before I knew it, I was almost there. I pulled myself up and onto the top platform, legs shaking. Far below me I heard everyone burst into cheers and applause. The view was so scary, I couldn't look down. In fact, I wanted to get down as fast as I could.

“Rappelling!” I yelled. Slowly they let out the slack and belayed me down to the bottom.

“You're the first Middler to make it all the way to the top this summer,” Rachel announced. Everyone was patting me on the back and congratulating me. My legs wouldn't stop shaking, but other than that I felt great.

Brittany came up and gave me a high five. “Wow, I'm impressed! You got to the top of that thing in no time! Want to give me any pointers?”

I laughed. “Yeah. Rule number one—never look down! But the other thing that helped was staying positive. I kept visualizing myself at the top.”

“I wonder if people who break their legs visualize themselves at the hospital,” Nicole commented, which got her a few laughs. I knew she thought the whole “positive thinking” theory was ridiculous. Anytime I brought it up to her, she usually made fun of it.

I sat down in the grass next to the belay bench and tried to make my muscles relax. I looked up at Nicole. “Ready to try it? I'll belay you now,” I offered.