Camper of the Year

Copyright





2001 By Ann Herrick

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 2

ISBN 1-58495-429-9

Electronically published in arrangement with the author

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by

printing, faxing,

E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without

permission of the publisher. For more information contact

DiskUs

Publishing

http://www.diskuspublishing.com

E-mail

[e-mail]

DiskUs Publishing

PO Box 43

Albany, IN 47320

*

This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and

any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

* * *

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 3

Dedication

"For my mother, with whom I spent a summer at a camp

full of boys."

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 4

CAMPER OF THE YEAR

Chapter 1

“This is not what I had in mind,” I muttered. Going to

camp with my mother was bad enough. But a boys camp?

Ugh!

“Hey, look!” said Alan, as we rounded a corner on the

winding dirt road. “There’s the sign. ‘Camp Challenge, On the

Shores of Lake Pollywog.’”

“Big deal,” I grumbled. Alan could get all excited. At

least he could stay in a cabin. I would be stuck in the

infirmary with Mom.

“Here we are,” said Mom, as we pulled up to a white

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 5

house with a big porch. A woman in a white uniform stood

watching, as if she’d been waiting for us. “That must be the

other camp nurse. If she has children, you’ll have a playmate

or two, Eleanor.”

“Whoopee.” At the age of almost twelve, I was beyond

playmates. What I wanted were friends, and all my friends

were back home in Glenwood.

Alan laughed. “Just what you need, Ellie. A couple

whiny little kids to play with.”

“Alan,” Mom said in her voice that meant cut it out. She

pulled into a parking spot. “Please help Eleanor and me carry

our things inside before you go to your cabin.”

I grabbed a suitcase from the trunk of the car. If only I

had the freedom Alan had.

“Hello,” said the woman on the porch. Her voice was

soft. She looked fragile, as if the breeze from the lake could

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 6

knock her over. Even her short curly hair looked delicate.

“I’m Abigail White.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Mom, shaking Mrs. White’s

hand. “I’m Mary Endicott, and this is Alan and Eleanor.”

“My son, Tim, is about your age, Eleanor.” Mrs. White

pointed to a path, just a few steps from the side of the

infirmary, leading to the lake. “He’s down there, feeding the

ducks.”

I squinted as I shielded my eyes from the sun with my

hand. I saw a scrawny little kid who looked about eight years

old. Not exactly someone I would have chosen for my only

“friend” for the entire summer.

Alan must have spotted Tim too, because he snorted

under his breath. I knew what he was thinking. My potential

“playmate” looked like a real wimp.

“You must meet Tim.” Mrs. White reached into her

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 7

pocket and pulled out a whistle. At the sharp sound, Tim

came running.

Alan and I exchanged glances. How embarrassing to be

whistled in by your mother! Thank goodness Mom has a voice

that can be heard halfway down the street.

“Yes, mother?” said Tim as he ran up the path. He had

the same whispery voice as Mrs. White.

“Tim, dear, I’d like you to meet the Endicotts.” Mrs.

White ran her fingers through Tim’s wispy curls. Alan

elbowed me in the ribs. He’d have a fit if Mom ran her fingers

through his hair.

“This is Alan and Eleanor,” said Mrs. White. “Eleanor

will be staying with her mother in the other apartment above

the infirmary. You’ll have someone to play with.”

“Hi,” said Tim, with a shy smile.

“Hi,” I said. Enough with the introductions, already. I

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 8

wanted to check out our apartment.

“Tim will be eleven in September,” said Mrs. White. “So

he’s too young to stay in a cabin this year. But next year his

father insists he enroll as an official camper.” Mrs. White

patted Tim’s shoulder. “My husband teaches history at a high

school where he also coaches football. This summer he off

doing construction work in Alaska. Will your husband be

joining you at all this summer, Mary?”

“I’m a widow,” said Mom.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” said Mom.

Then there was a silence that made me uncomfortable. I

never knew what to say at times like that. So, I didn’t say

anything.

Alan cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Can we

get this stuff inside, Mom? I want to stop by the kitchen and

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 9

then find my cabin.”

Ah, good. Prompting from Alan. Sometimes he was

actually useful.

“I’ll help,” said Tim. I didn’t think he could lift anything

heavier than a glass of water. But he grabbed my suitcase

with one hand and carried it in.

We headed up a flight of stairs that branched off halfway

up. We went to the left. At the top, Mom opened the door.

“Well, Eleanor, here’s our home for the summer.”

I took one look inside and wanted to jump in the lake.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 10

CHAPTER 2

The apartment was as small as a birdhouse. The

scarred furniture looked ancient. A table with two benches

and a sagging sofa filled one side of the room. At the other

side sat two lumpy looking beds. Missing was any sign of one

vital piece of furniture. A TV!

And unless one of the two doors on the other side of the

room led to a luxurious suite, this was it. No privacy!

I ran over and yanked opened a door. It was a closet. I

crossed my fingers and opened the other door. My heart

shriveled up. I was looking at a bathroom no bigger than an

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 11

outhouse. The skinny shower stall looked barely big enough

to turn around in. “No tub?” I asked, hoping maybe there was

a hidden panel.

“I’m afraid not,” said Mrs. White.

I almost choked. I liked taking long hot baths.

“We don’t need a tub, since we have a lake almost at our

back door,” said Mom. “We can go swimming every day.”

Mom was being polite. She never learned to swim. She

wades in the water only up to her knees. And she does that

only if it’s really hot out.

Alan snickered. I think he liked to see me suffer.

“Say,” said Tim. “Where do want your suitcase,

Eleanor?”

“I’ll take it,” I said. “And please call me Ellie.”

“Sure, Ellie.” Tim looked as if he could really use a

friend. Too bad he seemed like such a wimp.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 12

“Well, we’d better leave and let you unpack,” said Mrs.

White.

“I’ll clear out too.” Alan grinned. “I want to store my

gear in my cabin.”

While Mom was busying saying good-bye to Mrs. White,

I stuck out my tongue at Alan. It wasn’t fair that he got to go to

camp for real, when I was the one who’d always wanted to.

After everyone left, Mom said. “Let’s unpack.”

I sighed as I swung my suitcase up onto the bed closest

to the bathroom.

After we finished putting away our clothes and stuff,

Mom asked, “Ready for lunch?”

“I’m starved.” Meals were probably going to be the

highlight of my day all summer.

It was a short walk through a wooded area, then up the

hill to the dining hall. Cabins stood in two rows on both sides.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 13

Down front, I saw a long rack filled with canoes. Two

docks reached out into the water like fingers. A small raft with

a slide was anchored close to one dock. Farther out was a

bigger raft with a bigger slide. I wouldn’t mind swimming

there.

Inside the dining hall, college pennants hung from

beams in the ceiling. I saw Tim and his mother sitting at a

table. She waved to us. As we sat down, she introduced us to

a man across from her, Ken Ketter. “He’s the sports director.”

“Hi,” said Mr. Ketter. He was a big man with a deep

voice. He said to me. “You look like a tomboy. Are you good

at sports?”

Tomboy? What century was he from? A lot of girls

wore their hair pulled back in a braid and preferred jeans and a

T-shirt instead of some dumb frilly dress. Hesitantly, I said, “I

like some sports.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 14

Actually, I love to swim and ice skate, stuff I can just do

myself. But I’m not too crazy about team sports. There’s

always at least one player who shows off and bosses

everyone around.

“Tim here doesn’t like sports,” said Mr. Ketter.

Tim looked down at his plate.

“Bong, bong, bong.”

The gong echoed through the dining room. Everyone

stopped talking.

“Welcome to Camp Challenge!” said a bald man with a

big smile. “I’m Mr. Wyatt, Camp Director!”

Everyone clapped.

Mr. Wyatt signaled everyone to be quiet. “And welcome

to your first meal at Camp Challenge!”

More clapping. I noticed that camp counselors led the

applause.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 15

“Appetites are always sharp at Camp Challenge!” said

Mr. Wyatt. “Growing boys need plenty of wholesome food

prepared and served by a top-notch kitchen crew.”

The kitchen door flew open. Boys filed out carrying

trays of food. Real cheering erupted in the dining room.

Alan served our table.

“If you’re an example of the top-notch kitchen crew,

Alan,” I said, “we’re in trouble.”

“Hmmph.” Alan set down a bowl of what looked like

chunky dog food in gravy and a basket of something that

resembled white hockey pucks. Next came a bowl of what

was probably once baked beans and a big metal pitcher.

I reached for the pitcher. I figured I couldn’t go wrong

with milk.

“Enjoy the bug juice,” said Alan, just before he headed

back to the kitchen.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 16

I ignored his dumb remark--until I poured a purple liquid

from the pitcher into my glass.

“They do call it bug juice,” said Mrs. White. “It’s one of

those powdered fruit drinks. The boys here love it. They’d

have it for breakfast too, if they could.”

“Oh,” I said. I took a sip. It tasted like swimming pool

water.

“Try a biscuit.” Mom handed me the white hockey

pucks.

I took one and hoped for the best. But, it was as hard as

it looked.

The dog food stuff actually tasted okay as long as I

didn’t look at it. The baked beans, however, tasted like a mud-

pie I tried once when I was four. Without thinking, I drank

some bug juice to wash away the taste of the baked beans. I

almost gagged.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 17

Maybe I could run away back to Glenwood. My friend

Molly could hide me in her closet and sneak food to me all

summer. At this point, it was worth a try!

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 18

CHAPTER 3

After lunch, I went back to the apartment to plan my

escape. First, I had figure out the route home. I remembered

getting on the turnpike and turning off onto Route 67. Then

Mom told Alan and me to keep our eyes peeled for Route 63.

Or was it 64?

I needed to get the map from the glove compartment of

the car. Maybe I could grab it when no one was looking.

It had taken only a couple hours to drive here. So, if I

knew where I was going, it probably wouldn’t take long to get

back to Glenwood. I’m a fast walker.

I had to try. This was not camp as I’d always dreamed it

would be. I knew from talking to Molly that camp was short-

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 19

sheeting our bunkmates, giggling under the covers, telling

ghost stories at midnight. Who was I going to tell ghost

stories to? Mom?

It wasn’t fair. I’d wanted to go to camp ever since Molly

told me how much fun it was. But at the time, we couldn’t

afford it. Then Dad died last October, so we couldn’t even

think about it. At first, I didn’t even want to think about it.

But then, for a while, I was angry. How could Dad go

and die? How could he leave us? How could he leave me? I

just wanted him back.

Then one morning at breakfast, Mom said, “Eleanor,

you’re going to camp this summer.”

I almost tossed my cereal bowl in the air. I was so

excited, until Mom explained the gory details.

She’d quit her job at the hospital because she didn’t

want to have different shifts and work weekends. She had

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 20

lined up a job as nurse for the grade school, but that wouldn’t

start until fall. Meanwhile, she said, she was going to work at

Camp Challenge for the summer. “It’ll be fun.”

So now, here I was. Stuck not only in a dumb boys

camp, but living above the infirmary with my mother!

I was just about to sneak out to the car to get the road

map, when Mom called me.

“Oh, Eleanor. Mr. Wyatt stopped by with a schedule for

you and Tim. He said after this you can just check the bulletin

board in front of the dining hall. Isn’t it nice that he wants you

to be included in the camp activities?”

“Hmmm.” I scuffed my foot on the floor. If there was

one thing worse than having nothing to do, it was having to do

something I didn’t want to do. I looked at the schedule Mom

handed me.

Swimming was listed for two thirty that afternoon. Well,

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 21

okay, swimming was fun.

A whistle blasted in my ear. I hadn’t noticed Mrs. White

standing in the doorway. In an instant, Tim came running up

to the porch.

“It’s almost time for you and Eleanor to go swimming,”

said Mrs. White. “You’d better hurry and change.”

“Do I have to?” Tim asked.

“Yes, you have to,” Mrs. White said briskly.

Tim grumbled and clomped upstairs. I dashed ahead of

him. I wanted to go swimming.

I changed and grabbed a towel. Mom made me wait on

the porch for Tim. She said we should go together. Since she

could see the porch from the inside of the infirmary, I couldn’t

sneak off.

After what seemed like a month, Tim came out.

“Let’s go,” I said, “or we’ll be late.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 22

“I don’t mind being late,” said Tim.

I hurried him along the path through the wooded area.

The shady dirt was cold on my bare feet.

“Don’t you like to swim?” I asked.

Tim shook his head. “I’m always getting water in my

eyes, my nose, my ears and my mouth.”

“Well, sure,” I said. “That’s part of the fun!”

“I don’t think it’s fun. It hurts my eyes and my ears.”

I was about to urge Tim to hurry anyway, when I noticed

a line of boys standing on the dock. I slowed to a walk. It

dawned on me that this wasn’t going to be a fun swim. It

looked as if they were lined up for a lesson.

A guy who looked just a few years older than Alan

stepped onto the dock. He wore a Camp Challenge sweatshirt

and carried a clipboard. “Hi, Tim.”

“Hi, Patrick,” said Tim.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 23

“You must be Eleanor,” said Patrick.

“How did you guess?” I said.

He ignored my sarcasm and waved us into the line.

“Welcome to Camp Challenge, everyone. I know you’re all

first-timers. Except for Tim. He’s been here three years, but

not as a regular camper. He’s what we call a 'special guest.'”

Tim squirmed as everyone stared at him.

“As you can see,” said Patrick, “Eleanor is also a

'special guest.'”

Could this Patrick guy possibly make us feel any more

out-of-it?

Some of the boys snickered. One idiot even whistled. I

had nothing in particular to whistle about. And even if I did, I

wouldn’t want some jerk whistling at me.

“Our greatest challenge at camp,” said Patrick, “is to

teach every camper to excel at swimming.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 24

I sighed. Lessons were bad enough. I hadn’t expected

to suffer through a lecture too. Fortunately, Patrick kept it

short. We marched down onto the yellow sand. Then we were

supposed to wade into the water up to our waists.

With one toe in the water, I was reminded that this was

not a heated swimming pool. It was a lake. An icy cold lake! I

was about to protest, when some of the boys started to

complain.

“There will be no whining,” said Patrick. “You are not

babies.”

I gritted my teeth and waded in. I had goosebumps the

size of Mount Rushmore. I tried not to shiver.

Tim was beside me. Next to him was a tall red-haired

boy blanketed with freckles. On the other side of him was a

chubby guy with a chin as round and pink as a scoop of

strawberry ice cream. We all inched our way in up to our

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 25

kneecaps.

All of a sudden, there was a loud thrashing. As I turned

around to see what was happening, someone splashed me. It

was like being pelted with ice. “Yikes!”

Although I had water in my eyes and could hardly see, I

started to chase after the creep. I managed to grab his arm.

“Never mind, Eleanor.” Patrick pulled my hand off the

guy’s arm. “Shawn Day, that’s ten demerits.”

Shawn Day ran down the beach, so I didn’t get a good

look at him. But I sure would remember his name.

Patrick blew his whistle. “A little water never hurt

anyone. Eleanor, you’re already wet. Show me how well you

dog paddle.”

“Dog paddle?” He’d just said we weren’t babies!

“If you can’t do it, I’ll have someone show you.”

“I can do it.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 26

As I paddled, Patrick said, “I want everyone to do all the

strokes, so I can find out how well you can swim."

Everything went okay through the dog paddle and the

sidestroke. Some of the guys had trouble with the backstroke.

Tim seemed to be doing all right for someone who didn’t like

to swim. That is, up to that point.

“Tim, show me your crawl,” said Patrick.

Tim shook his head.

“Come on, Tim. Just do it as well as you can.”

Tim shook his head again. There was a funny look on

his face. For a second I thought he was going to try. Instead,

he crossed his arms in front of his chest and said, “No.”

There was a gasp from the other guys, followed by quiet

mumbling.

“That will be ten demerits, Tim,” said Patrick. “Go stand

by the canoes with your back to the water until class is over.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 27

No one said a word for the rest of the class. Except for

the silence, I had a pretty good time. I’d gotten used to the

water, so I wasn’t cold.

It turned out that I was one of the better swimmers. That

meant I had free time near the end of class. The not-so-good

swimmers had to practice their strokes. I swam out to the

small raft and slid down the slide a couple times.

After class, Tim and I walked back to the infirmary

together.

“Tim, you should have at least tried to do the crawl,” I

said. “Maybe you would have earned some free time.”

“I can do the crawl,” said Tim. “I just don’t like to put

my face in the water.”

“You don’t have to be afraid—”

“I’m not afraid,” said Tim, his voice getting louder with

each word. “I just don’t like to put my face in the water!” He

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 28

swung his towel over his shoulder and ran ahead of me.

“Wait up, Tim,” I yelled. “I was only trying to help!”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 29

CHAPTER 4

“Tim. Wait.” I ran to catch up with him. “Slow down. I

didn’t mean anything. Really, I was just trying to help.”

Tim didn’t say anything, but he did slow down to a walk.

I tried to think of something to say. “Um, uh...say. What

are those demerits that Patrick kept giving out?”

“It’s just a punishment. Each demerit means one point

subtracted from any someone might earn toward being

camper of the year.”

“Camper of the year?”

“You get points for how well you do at swimming and

other activities. Also, for keeping your bunk neat, being on

time, good behavior, stuff like that,” said Tim. “Whoever has

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 30

the most points by the end of summer is the camper of year

and wins a prize. Last year it was a twelve-speed bike.”

“Wow. Could you or I be camper of the year?”

“I can, so I’m sure you can, too,” said Tim. “But we

don’t stand a chance. Some older camper always wins.”

“Well, maybe I’ll try,” I said. If I couldn’t figure out how

to escape from camp, it would give me something to do.

“Suit yourself.” Tim dashed up to his apartment.

I saw that Mom was busy bandaging someone’s finger,

so I went upstairs, too. I didn’t know what to do during free

time. Then I thought of the ducks. I changed into shorts and a

camp T-shirt and went down to the lake. Within seconds, I

was surrounded by ducks. They all quacked at me!

“Hey!” I tried to shoo them away. They quacked louder.

I nearly jumped out of my sneakers. A huge goose came

out of nowhere and honked right in my ear. He nibbled at my

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 31

hand. Ouch! He and the ducks formed a circle around me. I

was trapped!

“Here, Mort! Here, Matilda! Come on, Samuel.” It was

Tim. He threw pieces of bread at the flock. The ducks and

goose ignored me and almost trampled him.

But Tim stood calmly as the ducks and goose swarmed

around him. They pecked at every piece of bread. Sometimes

they pecked at nothing. A few ducks even ate right out of

Tim’s hand.

“They sure are hungry,” I said over the quacks and

honks.

“Yes. They get pushy when they’re hungry,” said Tim.

“I hope they didn’t scare you.”

“Scare me? Of course not!”

“Oh, good.” Tim held out a piece of bread. “Here. You

can feed them.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 32

“Well...uh...okay.” Just as I took the piece of bread, the

goose nipped my finger with his beak. “Yeow!”

“Careful,” said Tim. “You have to be quick.”

“I was just surprised.” I stuck my hand in my pocket.

My finger throbbed with pain.

“Here, have some more bread.”

“Well. Gee. I don’t know—”

“Come on. Just toss it real fast and you won’t get bit.

Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared!” I grabbed some bread, pulled off bite-

sized pieces and threw them as quickly as I could.

The goose and ducks waddled after the bread. I took

some and scattered it around. While the others were busy

pecking away, I hand-fed a pretty brown duck.

“You’re a fast learner,” said Tim

“I’ve always known exactly how to feed ducks,” I told

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 33

him.

“Oh.”

After a while, we ran out of bread. The ducks and geese

paddled away to the middle of the lake.

I sat on a smooth, flat rock at the edge of the water.

This section of the beach formed a small cove that could be

seen from the infirmary, but because of the trees, not from the

rest of the camp. The water was clear. I could see the

bottoms of several boulders that sat a short way out. A few

feet from me, a rowboat rested on the shore.

“This is a nice part of the lake,” I said. “Is it okay for us

to use that rowboat?”

“Sure. As long as we don’t row out past the boulders,

where it’s deep. It’s a nice beach here. I like to play in the

sand.”

I thought playing in the sand was kind of babyish. But I

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 34

might want to swim here during free time, if I didn’t figure out

how to get back to Glenwood right away. Mom would want

someone older around when I went swimming. Mrs. White,

maybe? “Say, Tim, how about--”

There was a horrible blaring sound from the main part of

camp.

“Yikes!” I said. “What was that?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 35

CHAPTER 5

“That’s just the signal for supper,” said Tim. “Let’s go.”

We got to the dining hall just as Mr. Wyatt put down a

dented bugle.

“He plays that to signal supper, the flag-lowering

ceremony and reveille,” said Tim.

“It might add something to the atmosphere of camp if he

knew how to play it better,” I said. “I’ve seen enough cavalry

charges in old movies to know that the sound can be

inspiring. That noise just rattled my bones.”

As we headed up the stairs to the dining hall, Mr. Wyatt

made an announcement.

“Before we go in for supper, I want to show you all

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 36

something.” He pulled a fat rope. A bell rang loud enough to

be heard all over camp. “I hope that’s the last time you’ll hear

it. It’s for emergencies only!”

The next morning I woke up to the racket of the bugle. It

was worse than the thunderstorm that blew through during the

night. I couldn’t get back to sleep, even if it was only the crack

of seven-thirty.

“Good morning, Eleanor.” Mom yawned and stretched

and beat me to the bathroom.

I had to move at fast-forward speed. We had only

twenty-five minutes to wash, dress and race to the flagpole for

reveille. Everyone stood at attention until the flag reached the

top of the pole.

Then we all dashed to the dining hall. I was starved. I

crossed every part of my body that would cross, wishing that

breakfast would be better than lunch and dinner.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 37

Finally, the kitchen doors flew open. Waiters charged

around the dining hall.

“Here you go, Ellie,” Alan said with a grin. “Your

favorite cereal.”

I eagerly picked up my spoon. I was about to plunge it

into the bowl, when I saw something that was not my favorite

cereal. It was oatmeal!

It looked like glue. I put my spoon in it. It stuck like

glue. I could only imagine what it would do to my insides. I

closed my eyes. Maybe not seeing it would make it easier to

eat.

It didn’t.

After breakfast came cabin inspection. It turned out our

mothers checked how Tim and I made our beds and reported

to the head counselor. Just my luck. I was sure my mother

was more picky than some nineteen-year-old counselor.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 38

After I made my bed and smoothed the blanket to make

a good impression, I went downstairs to wait for Tim.

“Mom?” I looked in the infirmary room.

“Back here,” said Mom. “I’m doing a load of wash.”

I went in the back room and sat on the spare cot set up

in there.

“What did you want?”

“I’m just waiting for Tim,” I said.

“Well, how’s camp so far?” Mom poured a cup of

detergent into the washer. “Did you have fun swimming

yesterday?”

“Yes. I’m the best in my age group.” I paused, then

said, “Tim won’t put his face in the water. It’s ridiculous. He

won’t even try.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Well, he says—”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 39

“Hi, Ellie.” Tim stuck his head in the door. “Ready to

go?”

“Yes! Bye, Mom.”

We hurried to see the cabins while they were all opened

up. They had sliding doors and side-flaps that could be

opened to let in light and air. Each cabin had eight bunks and

just enough room in the middle for everyone’s trunks.

“Hey, Ellie.” Alan waved us over to his cabin and led us

inside. “Sure beats the infirmary, doesn’t it?”

“It’s all right,” I said. He knew I wished I could stay in a

cabin. But what kind of sister would I be if I didn’t act as if I

had the better deal? “At least I don’t have to use an outhouse.

I’m closer to the lake and we have our own private beach.”

Alan stared at me.

I gave him a sharp look right back.

Alan said, “You’re just jealous.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 40

“Eleanor!” Mr. Ketter stood in the doorway.

I went stiff in surprise.

Ketter’s shadow darkened the whole cabin. “You’re not

a boy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I was just visiting my broth—”

“It’s almost time for morning activities to start. You and

Tim ought to get going. Besides, you’re a girl. You don’t

belong here.”

I started to leave, but I muttered under my breath to Tim,

“I do so belong here.”

“What!” Mr. Ketter’s voice was loud and sharp. “What

did you say?”

The skin on the back of neck tightened. I didn’t know he

could hear me. “Ummm, I said, ‘It won’t take us long to get

there.’ You know, to the morning activity.”

“Oh. Well. Get going.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 41

I did. Tim and I ran to the bulletin board in front of the

lodge to see what we were in for. Campers were divided up by

some mysterious method and assigned a color. Tim and I

were blue.

There was a blue dot next to softball. I noticed a red

ball, too. I figured that meant that more than one group could

have the same activity at the same time.

Tim showed me the path through the woods behind the

lodge. It led to a big open field for softball and archery.

When we got to the softball field, I got a squishy feeling

in my stomach. Mr. Ketter was the softball coach. Was there

no escape from that man?

“Blue group! Stand along the first base line!” Mr. Ketter

boomed. “Red, the third base line!”

I ran to line up. I didn’t want any demerits. If I couldn’t

escape from camp, my next choice was to be Camper of the

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 42

Year.

Tim was the last to get in line. I noticed the red-haired

boy and the chubby one from our swimming class were in the

blue group, too.

“Okay, everyone,” Mr. Ketter shouted. “Answer ‘here’

when I call your name.” He went through the blue group first.

Then, halfway through the red group I heard him say Shawn

Day. That name sounded familiar. Then it came to me--he was

the one who’d splashed me!

He looked about thirteen or fourteen. He had sandy

brown hair, blue eyes and the kind of looks Molly’s older sister

would probably flip over, since somewhere along the line

she’d turned boy crazy.

Shawn stood with his hands on hips. He had a look on

his face that said he thought he was the greatest thing since

toilet paper.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 43

“Okay,” said Mr. Ketter. “Each group will play as a

team. I want you blue guys to learn from these older fellas.

Blue, bat first.”

Tim and I were put last in the batting order. Just ahead

of us were Red Hair and Rosy Chin. We all sat together at the

end of the bench.

“Hi, Eleanor,” said Red Hair.

“Hi,” I said. “Please, call me Ellie.” I was impressed

that he knew my name. But then, I was the only girl in the

whole camp.

“Sure, Ellie. I’m Paul and he’s Fred.” Paul aimed his

thumb toward Rosy Chin.

“And you’re Tim?” Paul asked.

Tim nodded hello. He was studying Shawn Day, who

was pitching.

The first batter hit a fly ball right to the first baseman.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 44

“Good try,” said Mr. Ketter. “We’ll work on form later. I

want to see how everyone does. Just try your best. The worst

thing is to strike out without even swinging.”

Shawn tugged on his cap and wound up for the next

pitch.

“Hey, Paul,” I said. “What do you know about the guy

who’s pitching?”

“Shawn Day? Watch out for him. He’s in a cabin with a

bunch of older guys, fifteen, one may be sixteen. They’ll be

out to make your life miserable.”

“Oh?” Why didn’t that surprise me?

“Shawn’s cabin is next to Fred and me,” said Paul. “I’ve

already had a couple bad times with that whole group.”

“Me too,” said Fred. “Yesterday morning they made me

push an acorn twenty feet with my nose. They said they didn’t

like the way I was looking at them.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 45

“So let me guess,” I said. “They’ll bug anyone who’s

different.”

“Right,” said Paul. “Me, because of my red hair and

freckles. Fred, ‘cause he’s...husky. Tim because he’s small

and you, well obviously, you’re a girl.”

“I won’t let them push me around,” I said.

Suddenly there were three outs and it was our turn to

take the field. We hadn’t gotten any runs or even any hits for

that matter. Shawn Day swaggered off the mound with a big

grin on his face. He must have thought he was a big shot

striking everyone out.

“This is my own special glove,” Shawn said to me. He

punched it twice. “It’s real expensive. My dad gave it to me.”

“Big deal.” I yawned.

“You two!” Ketter pointed to Tim and me. “Get in that

outfield!”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 46

I was glad I’d been put in right field. I hated having to

try to catch a ball. I wanted to duck when one came right at

me.

Unfortunately, our pitching was terrible. Everyone on

the red team was getting a hit. Luckily, the ones that headed

my way were either grounders, which I could handle, or home

runs.

Tim wasn’t so fortunate. Someone hit a line drive right

at him. He didn’t even try to catch it. He just jumped out of the

way as the ball sailed by him.

“Get that ball!” Ketter yelled.

Tim did, but it was too late. Even though Tim made a

good throw, the batter scored.

Eventually it was our turn at bat again. I gloated at

Shawn after one of our batters walked and another got a hit. It

proved Shawn wasn’t the hotshot pitcher he thought he was.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 47

Then Tim was up at bat. The first two pitches were

balls. I thought Tim would get a walk. The next two pitches

were straight down the middle, but Tim didn’t even swing at

them.

Ketter turned fire engine red. “What did I say about

going down looking?”

I silently rooted for Tim to get a hit.

The next pitch was a ball. If Shawn threw another one,

Tim would walk. That would be as good as a hit.

“Strrrrike three. You’re out!” Ketter boomed.

Tim didn’t look at Mr. Ketter. So, he didn’t see him

standing with his arms across his chest, his breath coming

out his ears. Tim just walked back to the bench and sat down.

That meant it was my turn at bat. I clamped my lips tight

as I went to the plate.

Shawn gave me a wicked smile. I suppose he thought

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 48

that would shake me up. Well, okay, so maybe I was a bit

nervous. But I was determined to bluff my way through and

get it over the best I could. I wanted points, not demerits.

I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and swung at the ball.

Nothing but air. I really wanted a hit. Not just for the points. I

wanted to show Shawn he wasn’t as great as he thought he

was. Since I didn’t have to catch the ball, just hit it, I decided

to force myself to keep my eyes open.

Shawn took his time scuffing around on the mound

before he finally threw the next pitch. Ha! It was low.

“Ball one.”

The second pitch was high.

“Ball two!”

I grinned at Shawn.

The third pitch zoomed in. I thought it was low, but

Ketter called a strike. Shawn’s lip curled into a smile.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 49

I dug in my heels and gripped the bat tighter. I smacked

the ball so hard the bat stung my hands. I raced toward first.

But the left fielder was already scooping up the ball.

The first baseman easily caught the throw. He stepped

on the bag a second before I got there.

“Out!” called Mr. Ketter.

“Nice try, girl.” Shawn smirked.

I wished I could have it out with Shawn right then and

there. But yanking out all his hair probably would cost me a

fatal number of demerits.

Justice would have to wait until no one was looking.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 50

CHAPTER 6

I tried calling Molly that night, but it turned out I couldn’t

dial long distance from the infirmary phone. All I got were a

bunch of boops and beeps. I’d have to save my change and

try to find a pay phone somewhere. That or just show up on

Molly’s doorstep and hope she could sneak me in without

anyone seeing. Of course, that was assuming I could ever get

my hands on the map. With the car parked right in front of the

infirmary, there never seemed to be an opportunity to sneak

into it when no one was looking.

For the next few days I didn’t see much of Shawn except

in the dining hall, and I figured I couldn’t get even with him in

there. I did think, however, that I had to be accumulating a lot

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 51

of points for camper of the year. I was the best swimmer in my

group and I always tried my best, even if I had to fake my way

through something. I also made sure I was always on time

and that I was a good sport, whether or not I felt like one.

The thought of being camper of the year made me feel

better, because I always pictured the look on Shawn’s face

when I won. I was sure he thought he was going to win the big

prize, whatever it was. Boy, would he be surprised.

Meanwhile, I slacked off on trying to encourage Tim to

give things a try. He still refused to put his face in the water or

make an effort to get a hit in softball, even when we played the

yellow team, which was no better than we were. Whenever I

tried to give him helpful hints or urge him on, he told me he

could do whatever he felt like doing. I guess he was just

trying to cover up that he was scared.

Then we had a week of rain. It was a relief when I

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 52

snapped the shade up one morning and saw the sun. “Hey,

Mom, it stopped raining!”

“Thank goodness,” said Mom. “I was starting to think

we’d need a boat to get to the dining hall.”

“Oh, Mom, you’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe. At any rate, it is nice to see the sun.”

“I’ll say. It means I get to go horseback riding today!”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Mom as she combed her hair.

“Have a good time.”

“Don’t worry. For once, I’ll have a great time.”

As we gathered around the camp van, Shawn sauntered

up to me. He wore a white cowboy hat.

“See this?” He flicked the brim. “My folks gave it to

me.”

I felt like yanking it off his head. Instead, I tried to look

bored and said, “Big deal. Who’d want a dumb old cowboy

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 53

hat, anyway?”

“Attention!” said Patrick, as he unlocked the camp van.

“You’ll be getting professional instruction from Mrs. Howard.

So listen to everything she has to say and do just as she

says.”

We all promised to listen to Mrs. Howard and then

climbed into the van. I grabbed a window seat. Tim sat next

to me. All during the ride, I craned my neck looking out,

hoping to spot the stable. “This is going to be fun.”

“I guess.” Tim shrugged. “I just hope they give me a

small, tired old horse.”

“I hope I get a golden palomino,” I said. “What about

you, Paul?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never ridden before.”

“Neither have I,” said Fred.

“It’s fun,” I said. “Just wait—”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 54

“I suppose the girl here thinks she knows all about

horses,” Shawn butted in.

“This is a private conversation.” I gave him an icy stare.

“Excuuuuuse me, girl.”

I was ready to sock Shawn. But I caught a glimpse of

Patrick eyeing us in the rear-view mirror. So, I ignored Shawn

for the rest of the ride.

Patrick pulled the van into a long driveway with pastures

on both sides. “We’re here,” he said. “Remember, pay

attention to Mrs. Howard.”

As soon as the van stopped we all ran off and headed

straight for the stable. A stocky woman in jeans, boots and a

white cowboy hat stood by the door.

“Okay, everyone. I’m Mrs. Howard. You listen to me

and do just as I tell you and we’ll get along fine. Form a line!”

We lined up.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 55

“If everyone behaves,” said Mrs. Howard, “there will be

no problems.”

“In other words,” Tim whispered, “no horsing around.”

I laughed.

“You there!” Mrs. Howard looked right me.

“Me?” I pointed to myself.

“Yes, you. You can’t be listening if you’re talking. I

expect everyone to be quiet!”

I gulped and nodded.

There was a moment of silence during which I tried to

look invisible. Then Mrs. Howard told us about riding and

horsemanship. She explained how we had to be firm with the

horses, but also calm.

“Now then,” said Mrs. Hoard. “I’m going to match you

up with the proper horses.”

I crossed my fingers for a palomino.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 56

“If you’ve never ridden a horse, you’re a novice,” said

Mrs. Howard. “If you’ve done a little riding, you’re a beginner.

Then there would be intermediate and expert. Now, as I go

down the line, each of you call out your experience.

A couple boys said they were beginners. Tim, Fred and

Paul were all novices. I’d gone riding a few times at a stable in

Guilford. I figured I’d say I was beginner. But then Shawn

said he was an expert.

So, when Mrs. Howard got to me, I blurted out,

“Intermediate.”

As Mrs. Howard finished, a bow-legged man with white

hair and a red mustache brought out a beautiful golden

palomino from the stable.

“Thank you, Frank,” said Mrs. Howard. “Now, I need a

volunteer to demonstrate the proper way to mount a horse.”

I raised my hand and waved it wildly.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 57

Mrs. Howard looked at me, frowned and turned to

Shawn. “How about you, Shawn? I remember what a good

rider you are, and I’m sure Goldenrod remembers, too.”

Shawn’s face split into a wide grin. “Sure, Mrs.

Howard!”

“Hmmmph,” I mumbled to myself.

“You mount a horse from the left side,” said Mrs.

Howard. “Left foot goes in the left stirrup.”

Shawn swung up onto Goldenrod with ease. I couldn’t

help but admire how gracefully he’d done it. Goldenrod was a

big horse.

“This is a western saddle,” said Mrs. Howard. “The

rider should sit with his legs slightly bent at the knees. His

weight should be directly over the balls of his feet. The reins

should be held in one hand, just above the saddle horn. The

free arm should be straight down.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 58

Shawn looked as if he’d been born in a saddle.

“Thanks, Shawn,” said Mrs. Howard. “You can take

Goldenrod into the riding ring while I match up the others with

their horses.”

She put Fred and Paul with a couple of small horses that

didn’t look too energetic. Tim got a spotted Welsh pony. I

would have been embarrassed to get a pony, even one as big

as a Welsh. But Tim smiled and patted the pony’s neck.

Finally, it was my turn.

“Give her Ringo,” Mrs. Howard said to Frank.

“Sure thing. Come along, miss.” Frank led me to a

shiny chestnut colored-horse that was almost as big as

Goldenrod. “I’ll give you a hand up. Ringo here is a pretty big

fella.”

“Thanks,” I said, as Frank boosted me up. I slipped my

feet into the stirrups. Frank handed me the reins. I gently

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 59

kicked Ringo’s sides with my heels. “Let’s go.”

In the ring, I savored the situation as we walked our

horses in a circle. The sun on my back, a breeze on my face,

the feel of leather and the steady clop-clop of horses’ hooves

made the whole summer at Camp Challenge suddenly seem

worthwhile. I didn’t need to sneak home, not if I got to ride

again. It wasn’t a regular activity and it did cost extra.

The third time around in the circle I noticed that Tim was

stopped at the side of the riding ring. His pony had his head

to the ground and was nibbling grass growing through the

bottom of the fence.

“Whoa.” I stopped Ringo next to Tim. “Remember what

Mrs. Howard said. You have to be firm with the horses. You

can get your pony to go.”

“I don’t mind,” said Tim. “I like watching him eat.”

“Just pull up on the reins and—”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 60

“You just worry about yourself, young lady.” It was Mrs.

Howard. “You’ve done nothing but yak ever since you got

here. Get back in the circle with the others.”

I felt my cheeks turn red and hot as I edged Ringo back

into the circle.

Shawn was ahead of me. He turned around. He had a

funny smile on his face.

Paul pulled up next to me. “What was that all about with

you and Mrs. Howard?”

I swallowed a lump in my throat as big as an orange and

told him.

Paul’s eyes widened.

“That’s not right,” said Fred, who was just in back of

me. “You’ve hardly said a word!”

“Yeah, well..." It was nice of them to try to make me feel

better. “I guess I’d better be totally quiet from now on.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 61

“Guess so.” Paul slowed down his horse and got back

in line.

I was in back of Shawn again.

“Mrs. Howard,” Shawn called out. “Is it all right if I

canter?”

“Of course, Shawn. Just don’t disturb the others. Go

through that gate and use the other ring.”

Shawn nudged Goldenrod into a trot as he headed for

the gate. Ringo broke into a trot and followed him.

“W-whoa, Ringo.” I pulled back on the reins. My teeth

chattered as I jogged around in the saddle. I grabbed the horn

to steady myself. “Whoa, b-boy!”

But Ringo ignored everything I said and everything I did.

I’d lost control of him. He cantered into the other ring.

Shawn had Goldenrod in a nice slow steady canter. But

Ringo was in a fast canter. I was afraid he’d break into a

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 62

gallop. I didn’t want him to run away with me!

I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and jumped off. I

landed flat on my backside.

“Hey! Are you all right?” someone shouted.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got Ringo.”

I looked up. Shawn held Ringo’s reins and had both

horses under control.

“What on earth happened?” Mrs. Howard ran into the

ring and knelt beside me.

“I...uh...fell off.” I wanted to bury my face in the dirt.

“I’m not hurt.”

“Thank goodness for that. Next time I’d better put you

on a pony.”

As far as I was concerned, there wasn’t going to be a

next time. The trip to Glenwood was back on.

“Let me help you up.” Frank smiled down at me with his

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 63

hand out.

I grabbed it and pulled myself up. “Thanks.” As I

started dusting myself off, I heard Mrs. Howard talking to

Shawn.

“Thanks for rounding up Ringo. No telling what might

have happened with a horse running loose.” She took Ringo’s

reins and led him back to his stall. Not a word about how

maybe Shawn shouldn’t have started his horse trotting right in

front of mine.

“You sure you’re okay?” Frank asked as he led me out

of the ring. He walked me over to the van.

I nodded, too embarrassed to speak. I could only

imagine how many demerits I’d get for all this. And Shawn

would probably score points for rounding up Ringo!

“Now don’t fret about anything Mrs. Howard said. She’s

just better at dealin’ with horses than people, that’s all.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 64

I nodded again and gave Frank a small smile of thanks.

The ride back to camp felt endless. Everyone asked me

about “falling off” Ringo. I mumbled something about not

knowing exactly what happened.

The only one who didn’t say anything was Shawn.

Then it hit me. I hadn’t lost control of Ringo. Shawn

must have planned it. Yeah, that was it. It was Shawn’s fault.

He must have known I was right behind him. He probably

knew Ringo would follow Goldenrod no matter what I did.

Sure, that was it!

Ooooh, I’d get even with Shawn. I promised myself. I’d

get even.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 65

CHAPTER 7

“Neat!” said Tim. “Arts and Crafts.”

I didn’t want to believe it. But it was right there on the

bulletin board.

We walked over to the Arts and Crafts building. Well,

Tim walked. I trudged.

“Come in, come in!” A short man with bulging eyes

stood in the doorway and greeted us. He looked like a frog, if

frogs had black, curly hair. “The shop is always a busy place.

Projects completed here often become lifelong treasures.”

He’d never seen any of my projects.

Once everyone was inside the frog introduced himself

as Mr. Stangel. “Everyone take a seat.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 66

We sat on benches pulled up to long wooden tables.

Tim sat next to me. Paul and Fred sat across from us. Tim

was the only one who looked excited about being there.

“There’s something for everyone here in Arts and

Crafts,” said Mr. Stangel.

Maybe if there were a paint-by-numbers kit. That would

be my speed.

Mr. Stangel continued. “Beadwork, which includes

making the beads, can be difficult. Painting ceramic tiles is

fairly easy. Most of the work involving wood, metal or leather

falls somewhere in-between.”

Painting ceramic tiles. Easy. That’s for me.

“Take a look around.” Mr. Stangel waved his arm in a

circle. “See what appeals to you. Once you decide on a

project, you can work at your own pace. So some of you may

finish several projects by the time camp is over, others only

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 67

one or two. The point is to create something and have fun

doing it.”

That last sentence sounded like a contradiction to me.

I moseyed around the room. I’d already decided to do

whatever was easiest, and that seemed to be painting a

ceramic tile.

Paul and Fred checked out making reed baskets. Mr.

Stangel showed them some finished ones that looked pretty

good. But off in a corner gathering dust was a lopsided

basket. Probably it was left there by someone too

embarrassed to take it home.

“Hey, Ellie,” said Tim. “What are you going to do for

your project?”

“A ceramic tile.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll give it to my mother,” I said. “She can use it as a

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 68

coaster for her coffee mug.”

“That’s a nice idea.”

I almost hated to ask. “What are you going to make?”

“A beaded necklace. Of course, I’ll make my own beads

too.”

“Oh, of course.”

Tim grabbed my hand. “Come on. I’ll show you the

sticks of wax. Help me decide what colors to use.”

“You make beads out of these?” I inspected the sticks

of wax.

“Sure, it’s simple,” said Tim. “You heat the wax over a

flame until small pieces can be broken off. Then you heat the

tip of a needle. Stick it through the wax. Heat the wax on the

needle over a flame. Mold the wax into whatever shape you

want. I think I’ll make small round beads.”

“So...then you string the beads together and you have a

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 69

necklace?”

“That’s right,” said Tim. “But I’ll weave them together in

three or four rows. That way the necklace is thicker and

stronger.”

It sounded complicated to me. “Guess I’ll get to work

on my ceramic tile.”

“But first you have to help me choose the colors!”

“Well...okay.” I didn’t see why. But I figured choosing a

few colors would take less time than arguing about it.

Besides, I could always say I helped make the necklace if it

turned out okay.

“There are so many colors and so many shades of each

color,” I said. “I like blue. How about using all the shades of

blue, and maybe some white for contrast?”

“Is that what you like best?” Tim asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I think it would look beautiful.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 70

“Okay, that’s what I’ll do.

If only painting a ceramic tile was as easy as choosing

the colors for the necklace. I wanted to do a red border, a blue

background and my mother’s initials in yellow in the center.

But right away I goofed on the red border. The line was

wavy. In one place my hand slipped and left a mark that

looked like a red tail. I sat there staring at it, wondering what

to do.

Mr. Stangel looked over my shoulder. “How’s it going,

Ellie?”

“I can’t keep the edge straight.” I pointed to the tail. “I

really messed up here.”

“No problem!” Mr. Stangel borrowed my paintbrush.

“Add a stroke. Make a curlicue. It’s easy to hide a mistake.

Pretend it’s part of the design! No one else will ever know.”

“Thanks!”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 71

“You’re welcome, Ellie. Keep up the good work.”

I wasn’t sure my work was good. My plain red border

was turning out to be a festival of curlicues.

It was impossible for me to start painting the blue

background. The colors ran together whenever I touched the

red with the blue, which I did several times. I had to wait for

the red paint to dry before I could continue.

So, I walked around the room to see what everyone else

was doing. Belts, trays, baskets and jewelry bloomed all over

the place. Everything looked a whole lot better than my

ceramic tile.

Lined up on a counter were a bunch of projects other

groups were working on. A leather belt caught my attention. I

picked it up.

Someone had started etching a design on it. It was an

intricate pattern, the sort of work that would win lots of points

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 72

toward camper of the year.

As I examined the belt more closely, I noticed a tag. Oh,

no! It said Shawn Day!

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 73

CHAPTER 8

“Come on, Mom,” said Tim. “You said you’d come

down to the lake with us so we could swim.”

It bugged me the way Tim said “we.” He always played

in the sand while I swam. The only time he went in the water

was to get a pail of water for making one of his ornate sand

castles or sometimes to hop in the rowboat while I rowed.

“Mo-o-o-o-m!” Tim yelled.

“I’m right here,” said Mrs. White, as she stepped out the

back door. “You don’t need to shout.”

“Do you have the bread, Ellie?” Tim asked.

“Of course I have the bread.” It was impossible to go

swimming unless we fed the ducks first. They insisted on

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 74

their usual allotment before they would clear out and leave us

in peace. Actually, I didn’t mind. I was getting good at feeding

them.

After we fed the ducks, Tim said, “The beach is skinnier

than ever.”

“You’re right,” I said. “That big flat rock I like to sit on is

completely underwater now. I guess it’s all the rain we had

again last week.” I moaned just thinking about the hours

spent trapped in the dining hall playing board games.

“It’s a good thing the cabins are on high ground,” said

Mrs. White. “I’ve heard that some homes and summer

cottages on the edge of the lake have water almost up to their

back doors.”

“That sounds like fun.” I waded into the water. “You

could just jump out the back door to go swimming!”

Either the water in the lake was getting warmer, or I was

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 75

getting used to it. It didn’t take me long at all any more to get

wet.

I liked to float on my back and stare up at the sky. I

watched puffy clouds move and change shape. With my ears

under water, it was as quiet as outer space.

Suddenly I noticed something casting a shadow over my

face. I looked to see what it was. “Paul! Fred! What are you

guys doing here?” I asked as I stood up.

“Shhh.” Paul held his finger to his lips. He and Fred

ducked back behind some rocks.

“We aren’t really supposed to be here,” Fred whispered.

“But we wanted to see you and Tim. The guys in are cabin are

having a burping contest and we’ve had enough.”

Tim waded out to us. “My mom saw you guys, but it’s

okay. She said you can visit if you stay where she can watch

us.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 76

“Great,” said Paul. “I just want to float round on my

back like you were, Ellie. It’d be nice to have some peace and

quiet for a change.”

“Yeah,” said Fred. “Camp is fun. But I need a break

from the other guys.”

So, we all floated on our backs, not talking, just looking

up at the sky. Even Tim. As long as he didn’t have to get his

face wet, he didn’t seem to mind being in the water too much.

Just as I was getting so relaxed that I could have fallen

asleep, Mrs. White blew her whistle.

“Sorry, everyone, but you’ll have to come up on the

beach. I’m needed in the infirmary.”

We all went up on the tiny stretch of beach. It was hot

there in the sun.

“There’s not much room to sit with the water so high,”

said Tim.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 77

“Let’s go sit under the trees,” I said. “There’ll be more

room and it’ll be cooler.”

“Good idea.”

I grabbed the bag of leftover bread. We went to a fallen

tree, spread our towels on the trunk and sat down. As we

talked, it reminded me of being back in Glenwood, sitting

under our maple tree with Molly and other kids in the

neighborhood.

“Shhh!” Paul said all of a sudden. “Look there,” he

whispered. He pointed to a small bush.

At first, I didn’t see anything. Then I saw something

move. It was a chipmunk.

Tim nudged me and pointed to the bag of bread. I

grabbed it, took out a slice and tore off a piece. The chipmunk

watched with great interest.

I tossed the piece of bread near him. He scurried

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 78

forward and grabbed it. Then, he ran back under the bush and

held the bread in his front paws as he ate.

When he was done, he ran out from under the bush

again and stopped three feet away from us. Tim tore off a

piece of bread and threw it. Again the chipmunk ran under the

bush, ate the bread and was back in a shake of his tail. He

came a bit closer, ready for another handout.

“Here you go, fella,” said Paul, as he tossed out a piece

of bread. His voice didn’t seem to bother the chipmunk.

“Cute little guy,” said Fred, as he took a turn feeding the

chipmunk. “Maybe we should give him a name.”

“Good idea,” said Tim. “How about—”

“How about ‘Wimp’?” It was Shawn Day. No telling

exactly where he’d come from or how long he’d been spying

on us. “Wimp would be a good name for such a puny

squirrel.”

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“A lot you know.” I jumped off the log and stepped

toward Shawn. “First of all, it’s a chipmunk, not a squirrel.

Second of all, what we do during free time is none of your

business.”

But the damage had been done. Paul and Fred were

already running in the direction of their cabin.

“Why do you have to spoil our fun?” I glared at Shawn.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Don’t you have any

friends of your own to bug?”

“I...I have friends.”

“Really? Then why do you have so much time to annoy

us?”

“Well...some friends you have. You hang around with

the biggest bunch of wimps in the whole camp!”

“You take that back!” I pulled back my fist, ready to

swing.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 80

“Ellie!” Tim yelled. “Your mother’s calling us.”

I listened. I did hear my mother. She sounded worried.

“We’d better go,” said Tim

“Arrgh...all right.” I didn’t like backing down. But

something told me it was urgent. I left Shawn standing there

as Tim and I ran to the infirmary.

I was still really ticked off at Shawn, but one look at

Mom’s face and my anger evaporated. “What’s wrong?”

“Tim,” Mom said, “it’s your mother.”

“What is it? Is she sick? Is she hurt?”

“She hurt her arm,” said Mom. “She was getting some

iodine from the top shelf and she slipped getting off the stool.”

“Is it broken?” Tim asked.

“We don’t know how serious it is yet.” Mom patted

Tim’s shoulder. “I have to drive her into town to get it X-

rayed.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 81

“So it’s just her arm?” Tim asked. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” said Mom. “What I need is for one of you to

watch the infirmary for a bit and the other to find Mr. Ketter.

He’s trained in first aid, so he can take over while we’re gone.”

“I'll find Mr. Ketter,” I said.

“I’ll watch the infirmary,” said Tim.

“Thanks,” said Mom. “I knew I could count on you two.

Tim, you can help me get your mother into the car.”

“I’ll go get Mr. Ketter right now,” I said. I figured the

playing fields would be the best place to look.

As I headed for the path to the playing fields, I spotted

Shawn. He was by himself, leaning against a cabin. He had

his arms crossed in front of his chest and his head was

hanging down.

I was tempted to go over and make some remark like,

"Why are you all alone? Where are your so-called friends?"

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 82

But, I had to find Mr. Ketter.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 83

CHAPTER 9

“Good thing I’m right-handed,” said Mrs. White the next

morning. She dabbed calamine lotion over a case of poison

ivy that almost obscured one poor camper’s face. “I can still

work. In fact, the only thing I won’t be able to do is swim!”

A tiny selfish part of me was annoyed. Now there was

no one to watch me and Tim swim at the cove.

“Can we go to breakfast now?” said Tim. “I’m starved.”

“Sure,” said Mrs. White, putting away the calamine

lotion. “Let’s go.”

I wasn’t in a big hurry. It was my birthday. Yes, my

birthday. I’d almost forgotten. It was easy to lose track of

what day it was at camp.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 84

But, I’d remembered this morning. It made me think

how much more fun it would be back in Glenwood, celebrating

with my friends. At camp, I didn’t have much to look forward

to.

In fact, I was dreading the distinct possibility that Mr.

Wilson was going to make me stand on a chair while everyone

sang "Happy Birthday" to me. That was the camp tradition. I

didn’t look forward to a room full of guys staring at me. If only

Molly’s sister could take my place. She’d love it!

Breakfast started off better than I thought it would.

There was no mention of my birthday. Then Alan arrived at

our table carrying a platter of muffins. “Fresh blueberry

muffins, Ellie, just for you on your birthday. I asked the cook

to make them.”

“Thanks.” I reached for a muffin. It was like Alan to

take the credit, even though it was probably just a

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coincidence. But as each bite of blueberry muffin melted in

my mouth I didn’t care whose idea it was.

“Happy twelfth birthday,” said Mom. She handed me a

package wrapped in paper dotted with red balloons.

“Oh, neat! Thanks.” It was a new book from my favorite

mystery series.

“We have something for you too, Ellie,” said Mrs. White.

“Gee, thanks!” I wasn’t expecting anything from Mrs.

White and Tim. I tore open the package. It was note cards

with pictures of ducks swimming on the lake. “They look like

Mort and Matilda!”

“You noticed!” said Tim.

“And now,” said Alan as with a flourish he handed me a

box wrapped in aluminum foil. “I picked it out myself.”

“What is it? A car part?” I joked. But everyone at the

table was watching me with big smiles on their faces. I had

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 86

the feeling they all knew what the gift was. That really made

me curious.

I peeled off the aluminum foil. There was a layer of

newspaper. I tore that off. There was grocery-bag paper. I

tore that and finally got down to the box.

“A camera! Neat!” Or was it? Maybe it was a trick.

Maybe when I went to take a picture I’d get squirted in the eye.

I looked at Alan. He seemed too proud of himself for it to be a

joke. “Gosh, a camera. Thanks!”

“Now you can take pictures of everything at Camp

Challenge, so you’ll remember all the fun you had here.”

“Uh...yeah.” Maybe Alan was having a great time a

camp. But I was more anxious to get home and take pictures

of my friends. Still... “Thanks, Alan.”

Breakfast was almost over. I’d escaped without the

agony of being made the center of attention of the whole room.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 87

Then I heard the gong.

“Attention, everyone. Attention!” Mr. Wyatt said.

“Someone very special has a birthday today!”

I wanted to slide off my chair and hide under the table.

“Eleanor Endicott! Come on over!”

For a second I considered running out the door and

hurling myself into the lake. But how long could I hide

underwater? I hoped for an instant earthquake or monsoon.

Anything to escape my fate!

“Smile, Eleanor, smile! It’s your birthday!” Mr. Wyatt

thumped me on the back and almost sent me sailing to the

floor.

I managed a weak smile.

“Up here.” Mr. Wyatt grabbed a chair.

Now I knew how all those old movie cowboy villains felt

on their way to their own hangings. I gulped and stepped onto

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 88

the chair.

The force of more than a hundred pair of eyes bore in on

me. I tried to stare at ears, chins, noses. Anything but all

those eyes!

Mr. Wyatt led the singing of "Happy Birthday," croaking

each note in his own special way. I looked around the room

trying to avoid direct contact with anyone’s eyes.

But as I turned to my left, I saw Shawn Day. He wasn’t

looking at me, but he was singing. Probably the counselor at

each table made everybody sing. Still, I was surprised at how

Shawn was going all out. You’d think it was the first time he’d

ever sung "Happy Birthday" to anyone.

Finally, the singing ended. I leapt off the chair and fled

for the safety of my table.

Tim had left and Mom was gathering up my presents

and wrappings.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 89

“I took a picture of you on the chair.” Alan grinned.

“You looked petrified.”

“Gee, thanks.” At least Alan was back to normal.

“Be sure to take a picture of all your boyfriends.”

I glared at Alan. “No way do I have any boyfriends.”

Alan laughed. “Well, you seem to have friends here.

And they’re all boys. Are you afraid to admit you like boys?”

“They’re just guys! My friends are all back home in

Glenwood.” I bunched my fists. Then I noticed that people

were starting to stare. So I took the camera from Alan, smiled

ever so sweetly and said, “Thanks again for my present.”

“Sure.” Alan grinned. But he didn’t say anything more

about boyfriends.

“I’ll take your gifts back to the infirmary,” said Mom.

“So you won’t be late for your first activity.”

“Thanks.” I ran to catch up with the others.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 90

Paul and Fred joined Tim and me on our way to the

bulletin board and wished me happy birthday.

“Thanks, guys--”

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday girl.” Shawn sauntered over

to me.

“Buzz off, Shawn,” I said, as if words would make him

disappear.

Shawn held up his hands in protest. “Hey, I just wanted

to wish you a happy birthday, up close and in person.”

“I’m thrilled.”

Fred laughed.

“So,” Shawn said casually. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m twelve. Not that it’s any of our business.”

“Twelve, huh?” Shawn raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the matter?” I stopped and squinted at him.

“Don’t you believe me?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 91

He shrugged. “I thought you were older, that’s all.”

“Oh?” I just stood there for a second. For some dumb

reason it pleased me that Shawn thought I was older. To

cover my confusion I demanded, “How old are you?”

“I’ll be fourteen at the end of August.” Shawn lifted his

chin. “My folks are going to take me to Disney World for my

birthday.”

“Aren’t you kind of old for Disney World?” I asked, even

though I was dying to go there myself. I just didn’t like the

way Shawn bragged about it, as if it made him—and his

parents—superior.

“Well...no,” said Shawn. “Of course not! Everyone

wants to go to Disney World.”

Tim, Fred, Paul and I exchanged nervous glances. No

one could argue with Shawn about that and sound convincing.

Finally, Tim said, “We’ve got to go, Shawn. We need to

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 92

check the bulletin board.”

“That’s right.” I sniffed as the four of us trooped off like

a team of horses hitched to a wagon.

I peeked back over my shoulder once just long enough

to see Shawn trailing in back of us, scuffing his shoes in the

dirt. I wanted to figure out a way to get him to leave us

alone—permanently.

Meanwhile, we checked the bulletin board and headed

for our first activity, softball. I noticed that Shawn’s group had

swimming. Thank goodness. We wouldn’t have to put up with

him for a while.

“This is a dull game,” said Paul. We sat on the bench

waiting for our turns at bat.

“Ellie hit a double,” said Tim. “That was exciting.”

“You could get a hit too, Tim, if you try,” I said.

He scowled at me.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 93

“Sorry,” I said. “I was—”

“Only trying to help!” Paul and Fred said in unison.

“Well, I was.” I knew they thought I was butting in. But

it bugged me that Tim refused to try. I changed the subject.

“You know what we should do about Shawn?”

“Ignore him,” said Tim.

“That won’t help.”

“Don’t you want to ignore him?”

“Of course I do! It’s just impossible, that’s all,” I said.

“What we need to do is find out something that would

embarrass him. Then we could threaten to tell everyone if he

doesn’t leave us alone.”

“Ah, yes,” said Paul. “Blackmail. I believe you can get

arrested for that.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “We wouldn’t be demanding

money.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 94

“All right,” said Paul. “We’ll assume for a minute we

won’t have the law breathing down our necks. What do you

have in mind, exactly?”

“I figure we can sneak into his cabin and find something

that would embarrass him.”

“Like what?” Fred asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. That he sleeps with a teddy bear.”

“And just what is wrong with sleeping with a teddy

bear?” Tim asked.

“Oh. Well, nothing. If you’re under twelve..." I chewed

my lip for a moment. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a stuffed

animal. Just something he wouldn’t want anyone else to

know.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting even,” said Fred. “He laughed

his head off when those guys in his cabin made me push that

acorn around with my nose.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 95

“Hmm,” said Paul. “I don’t know.”

“Snooping around in his cabin doesn’t seem right to

me,” said Tim.

I thought for a minute. “Look, he has bunkmates. There

are guys in and out of cabins all the time. So we happen to

stumble through there some time. So what?”

“I just don’t like the idea,” said Tim.

“It would be hard to find a time when no one would be

there,” said Paul. “I don’t think it’s a good idea either.”

“Eleanor Endicott!” Mr. Ketter shouted. “Your turn at

bat!”

I hopped up from the bench. “Wish me luck at bat,

guys,” I said. “Later we’ll work out a plan to get even with

Shawn.”

That night as Mom and I were getting ready for bed I

tried to think up a way to put Shawn in his place.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 96

“Ellie, Mom said, ‘How was your day?’”

“Sorry, Mom. I was thinking.” I kicked off my shoes. “It

was okay, I guess. Except for this guy Shawn. He thinks he’s

so great.”

“Oh? How can you tell what he thinks?”

“He’s such a braggart! He made such a big deal that his

parents are going to take him to Disney World. You’d think no

one else ever had nice parents.”

“Well, I don’t blame him for being excited,” said Mom,

as she combed her hair. “Some day I hope we can see Disney

World.”

“Yeah, well...he’s always butting in on me and Tim and

everyone.”

“Maybe he wants to be friends with you.”

“That’s not it.” I tugged my nightshirt over my head.

“He’s older. He’s in a cabin with older guys.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 97

“That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want to be friends with

you.”

“Yeah, well... he always refers to me as, ‘Girl.’”

“Maybe he means it in a friendly way, to get your

attention.”

“No way!”

“Hmmm.” Mom smiled. “I think maybe you protest too

much.”

“Oh, Mom..." There was no point trying to explain. If

only I was in a cabin with girls my age. I could gripe and get

better feedback.

Some times Mom just didn’t understand.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 98

CHAPTER 10

I scanned the poster on the bulletin board. “There’s

going to be a camp carnival? What’s it like, Tim?”

Tim pointed to the small print. “It’s sort of a Las Vegas

night, only you use peanuts instead of money.”

Fred wrinkled his brow. “What’s a 'Las Vegas night?'”

“It’s gambling,” I said. “You know...roulette wheels,

dice, cards, things like that. A lot of organizations raise

money that way.”

“Hmmm.” Paul rubbed his chin, then grinned. “I

remember Mom being wowed because the Camp Challenge

brochure said it was a ‘wholesome atmosphere.’ Isn’t

gambling kind of unwholesome?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 99

“As I said, we use peanuts,” said Tim. “The camp gives

everyone a bag of them.”

“So we can eat our winnings!” Fred licked his lips.

“Actually,” said Tim, “we’re supposed to learn the evils

of gambling. But mostly everyone just has fun, except for the

big winners who eat too much.”

“Does winning get you anything besides a lot of

peanuts?” I tried not to sound too greedy.

“Sure,” said Tim. “Each peanut you have at the end of

the evening counts as a point toward being camper of the

year.”

“But isn’t that rewarding gamblers?” Paul said with a

smile.

“Well,” said Tim. “I never thought of it that—”

“Come on guys!” Patrick shouted. “Time for your

swimming lesson.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 100

I barely made it through swimming or the rest of the

day’s activities. I was too excited. I had visions of winning big

at the carnival.

Finally, we were done with supper. We raced over to the

carnival, eager to make our fortunes. At least I was.

Rows of booths stood decorated with balloons and

staffed with counselors. Strings of lights made the carnival

area as bright as mid-afternoon instead of early evening.

We lined up for our peanuts. Fred waited about three

seconds before he started eating his.

“Fred!” I exclaimed. “You’ll never be a high roller if you

eat all your peanuts before the carnival even starts.”

Fred shrugged. “Can’t help it. They’re good!”

“Eating them is better than losing them,” said Tim.

“I suppose you’re going to eat all yours and not even try

to win,” I said.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 101

“Wait and see.” A grin spread across Tim’s face.

“Hmmph.” I clutched my bag of peanuts and marched

off. I was determined to win every peanut in the place.

It wasn’t long, however, before I learned my own

personal lesson about gambling. I discovered that greed did

not equal skill and luck when it came to cards and dice. I

fumbled in my bag and counted my few remaining peanuts.

“So, having a big winning streak?”

I looked up. It was Shawn, holding a bag bulging with

peanuts. I tried to hide my limp bag by holding it down at my

side toward the back of my leg. “I’m doing okay.”

“The carnival is fun, isn’t it?” Shawn had the same kind

of smile on his face as he did the day he was singing "Happy

Birthday" to me.

“Yeah...it’s okay,” I said warily.

“Hi.” Tim joined us, along with Paul and Fred. “You’ve

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 102

got a lot of peanuts, Shawn. How are you doing, Ellie?”

“Okay. So far. I haven’t tried the roulette wheel yet.”

“That’s where I won all mine!” said Tim.

“Ah, ha. So you did gamble!” I said. “Where are all your

peanuts?”

“I ate them,” said Tim. “Since we’re supposed to learn

that gambling is wrong, it didn’t seem right to keep my

winnings.”

“But you did keep them,” I pointed out. “You still have

in your stomach. Besides, you could’ve given them to me.”

“Well, I ate mine, too,” said Fred. “Not because I was

worried about gambling. I was just hungry.”

Shawn laughed, not in a mean way, but sort of friendly.

Maybe that’s why it was catching. I found myself laughing,

too.

Then Paul joined in and then Tim and even Fred. My

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side ached. Tears rolled down Fred’s face.

“Whew!” Paul gasped. “What are we laughing about

anyway?”

That set us all off again. I don’t think any of us knew

why. It was just one of those things.

Eventually we all ran out of breath. Paul cleared his

throat. Fred wiped the tears off his face.

“Hey, Shawn!” someone called out from a group of

guys from his cabin. “We’ve been looking for ya. Come on!”

Shawn turned red. He dashed over to his friends

without a word.

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” said Fred. “I’m done

gambling for the night. I think I’ll just walk around.”

“Me, too,” said Tim.

“Maybe I’ll give the dice table a try,” said Paul.

“Well,” I said, “I guess I’ll try the roulette wheel. See

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 104

you.” I hurried off. I didn’t want them to see how few peanuts

I had.

I stood around and watched for a while. I couldn’t

decide if I should risk my few peanuts or not. At least I still

had some. If I gambled and lost, I’d be wiped out. Of course,

if I won...

A few guys playing roulette won. But most of them lost.

I was still trying to make up my mind what to do when I saw

Shawn again. His bag of peanuts was even fuller than before.

He was having a hard time carrying it.

He stopped and took a breath. Then he walked over to a

nearby cabin and placed his bag of peanuts under the steps.

He held out his hands and shook them, as if they were sore.

Then he walked away, leaving the peanuts behind!

I couldn’t believe it. The peanuts were just sitting there.

Anyone could walk over and...just take them.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 105

I headed toward the cabin. The closer I got, the slower I

walked. Finally, I stood next to the steps. I peeked at the bag

of peanuts.

A twig napped. Mr. Ketter walked by.

My heart pounded. I didn’t think he saw me.

I heard someone else coming. I turned to see who it

was. It was Tim.

“Hi. What are you do—" He noticed the bag of peanuts

under the steps. “That’s a huge bag of peanuts. What are

they doing there?”

I hesitated, then said, “Shawn put them there.”

“Bob Shelton is the only one I’ve seen with more than

that. He’s one of the oldest guys here. Of course, last time I

saw him he’d started eating his supply. So, who knows how

many he has now. Say, I heard there was something big going

on at the dice table. Want to watch?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 106

“Um...I need to sit for a minute. My foot hurts. I’ve got

to check my shoe. I think I might have a rock in it.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll see you at the dice table.”

“In a few minutes,” I said.

As soon as Tim was out of sight, I grabbed Shawn’s bag

of peanuts. I knew I couldn’t keep them. It was pretty obvious

to too many people I wasn’t a big winner. But I could dump

them somewhere. Everyone would think Shawn had just lost

them and at least he wouldn’t get any points.

I sneaked around in back of the cabin and slipped into

the woods. The path was dark, so I had to feel my way. I

didn’t dare go too far. If I couldn’t see the lights of the

carnival, I could get lost.

When I tripped over a tree root, I decided it was time to

ditch the peanuts. I heaved the bag as far into the woods

away from the path as I could. Once I heard it land, I hurried

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 107

back to the carnival and found Tim and Fred watching Paul at

the dice table.

“Hi,” I said casually. “How’s Paul doing?”

“Not so good now,” said Fred. “He had a winning

streak, but it turned into a losing streak. He’s almost out of

peanuts.”

“What took you so long?” Tim asked.

“Oh... the rock was in my sock, not my shoe. So, I had

to take off my shoe and my sock. Then I had trouble getting

my sock back on.” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop.

“My sock got all wrinkled, and I had a hard time getting my

shoe back on—"

“Okay, okay!” Tim held up his hands. “I get the

picture.”

We watched Paul gamble away his peanuts until he had

only one left. He rubbed his chin. He shifted his weight from

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 108

one foot to the other. Finally, he said, “I’ll keep this one

peanut as a reminder of how once I was rich for fifteen

minutes.”

“At least it wasn’t money,” said Fred.

“True,” said Paul. “For a while, I almost forgot.”

“What about you, Ellie?” Tim asked. “How many

peanuts do you have?”

“A few.” I held up my meager supply for inspection.

“Hey, guys!” It was Shawn, accompanied by his

bunkmates, who hung back and looked menacing. “Have you

seen my bag of peanuts?”

“We’ve been too busy to notice,” said Paul.

“I left them over there.” Shawn pointed to the cabin.

“Now they’re gone.”

My stomach churned. I didn’t say a word.

“You had a ton of peanuts,” said Tim. “They’d count a

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lot toward camper of the year.”

“I know,” said Shawn. “That’s why I really want to find

them.”

“Maybe a counselor found them and put them

somewhere for safe keeping,” Paul suggested.

“I didn’t think of that! Thanks, Paul. I’ll check with the

counselors right now.” Shawn and his buddies ran off.

“Too bad about Shawn’s peanuts,” said Paul. “I mean,

I’m not crazy about the guy. But I feel awful for having

gambled mine away. He must really feel bad losing his.”

“Maybe someone stole them,” said Fred.

“I don’t know,” said Tim. “I thought of that. But it

would be pretty obvious if someone suddenly had lots more

peanuts. Everyone kind of knows how much everyone has.”

Whew. Tim didn’t suspect a thing.

The strings of lights blinked twice, signaling that the

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 110

carnival was over.

“Well, time to head back to the cabin,” said Paul.

“We don’t have much to show for the night.” Fred

turned his empty pockets inside out.

“I don’t know about that.” Tim patted his stomach.

“That’s right!” Fred laughed and patted his stomach,

too.

With that we said goodnight and Tim and I headed back

to the infirmary.

“Too bad about Shawn losing all his peanuts,” said Tim

as we climbed the steps of the infirmary.

“Yes. Too bad. Really too bad.” I couldn’t stop

babbling. “Just a shame. Yes, sir. A real shame.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 111

CHAPTER 11

It was morning. Tim and I sat on the back porch. “I

don’t understand why you won’t go horseback riding again.

“I told you. It’s too expensive.”

“You went last time,” said Tim. “Besides, we get a

special rate.”

“I just don’t feel like it.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Afraid? What makes you think I’m afraid?”

“Well, you always accuse me of being afraid when I

don’t want to put my face in the water or swing at the softball.”

“Hmmph. But I tried horseback riding. It was...it was

boring.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 112

“There’s an old saying about riding,” said Tim. “When

you fall off a horse, you should get right back on.”

“Ha, Mr. Smarty. I didn’t fall off, I ju—er, uh, I mean...”

“What do you mean?”

I didn’t like the way Tim looked at me. He must’ve

guessed that I’d jumped off my horse! I felt my cheeks turn

red. “I didn’t mean anything, you...you wimp!”

Tim’s eyes widened. “What did you call me?”

“I said ‘wimp.’ You’re scared of the water and you’re

scared of the softball.” Even as I spoke, I knew I should take

back what I said. But I was angry, and embarrassed. I just

kept gabbing. “You’re probably scared of your own shadow!”

I couldn’t stand the look on Tim’s face. I ran upstairs,

slammed the door and threw myself on the bed.

A few minutes later Mom came up. She sat on the edge

of my bed and ran her hand across my forehead. “Hi. What’s

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wrong? Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I—I do feel kind of crummy.” I put my hand on my

stomach. I couldn’t tell Mom how awful I’d been to Tim.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No! Um, I mean, I just have a stomach ache. That’s

all.”

“Well...get some rest.” Mom stood up to leave. “Let me

know if there’s anything I can do.”

I nodded.

But I couldn’t rest, thinking about what I’d done. What

was wrong with me lately? First, I took Shawn’s peanuts.

Now I called Tim a wimp. I didn’t know what to do. I paced

around the room.

Finally, I decided to go down to the lake and feed the

ducks. The water was way up now from all the rain we’d had.

At least most of it had been at night, so we could still go

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 114

outside in the day.

The ducks quacked and scurried around. But feeding

them didn’t cheer me up. I started to leave. But I noticed that

the rowboat was in danger of floating away. I pulled it up out

of the water.

To be safe, I went to the back room of the infirmary and

got a piece of rope. I looped that through a metal ring on the

boat. Than I tied it to a tree. I made a triple knot. It looked

secure.

But keeping busy for a few minutes didn’t keep the

mean things I’d said to Tim from buzzing in my head. So, I

went for a walk. I saw some guys pitching horseshoes, so I

stopped to watch.

I saw the van coming back from the stables. I had to

find Tim. I had to apologize.

Unfortunately, Shawn was the first one off the bus. He

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 115

headed right for me.

“Hi,” he said. “Why didn’t you go riding with us today?”

“Because I didn’t.” I tried to look past Shawn to find

Tim.

Shawn touched my sleeve. “You know, you shouldn’t

be scared just because one time you—”

“Scared? Who said I was scared? I’m not scared.” I

turned around and walked away, leaving Shawn standing there

with his mouth opened. To think that I was going to apologize

to Tim. That blabbermouth said something to Shawn about

me “falling” off my horse!

For the rest of the morning, I avoided Tim. I didn’t talk

to him at lunch. I ran ahead to softball so I wouldn’t have to

walk with him.

“Hi, Ellie,” said Fred. “Where’s Tim?”

“How would I know?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 116

Paul said, “But you two always--”

“Not now,” I said.

Paul and Fred exchanged glances.

“Okay, everyone!” Mr. Ketter yelled. “Play ball.”

Tim arrived just in time to grab a glove and take the

field.

After that, Tim and I avoided each other as much as

possible. I noticed Mom and Mrs. White giving us odd looks

from time to time. But when she asked, I always told Mom

nothing was wrong. I’m sure Tim told his mother the same.

Meanwhile, I threw myself into trying to score points for

camper of the year. I was better than ever in swimming. I

practiced and improved a lot in archery. It bugged me that the

only one better in my group was Tim.

Softball was a struggle. But I was hitting the ball. I even

got a double off of Shawn. I knew improvement meant a lot in

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 117

Mr. Ketter’s book. So, I was optimistic on that score.

I didn’t make much progress in Arts and Crafts. I kept

messing up my tile. Each time I did, Mr. Stangel found a way

for me to turn my mistake into yet another decoration. That

wasn’t enough, however, to keep my stomach from tightening

every time I saw Tim working on his necklace. It was

beautiful.

If I’d been speaking to him, I would have told him so...

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 118

CHAPTER 12

PARENTS DAY!

I had to stand nearer the edge of the lake to get a good

look at the banner hung across the front of the dining hall.

“My folks are coming all the way from Stonington for

Parents Day,” said Shawn.

“Oh?” I said.

“They’ll be driving their sports car,” said Shawn. “It’s

got red leather seats. You can sit in it if you want.”

I wanted to feel irritated with Shawn, as usual. But it

was hard to look him in the eye, knowing I’d taken his peanuts.

He was bragging, as always, but was he also trying to be nice?

Of course, that was probably phony. Yeah, that was it. He

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 119

was up to something. “No, thanks.”

I turned and walked away. I was miserable enough

without having to figure Shawn.

“Hey, Ellie.” It was Paul, with Fred. “What’s Shawn

bragging about now?”

“Oh, this time it’s his parents and their sports car.

Shawn tries to make it sound as if they’re wealthy. They’ll

probably show up in a beat up old heap.”

“Yes,” said Fred. “It’s hard to believe anything Shawn

says.”

“Well, our folks are going to be here soon,” said Paul.

“See you later.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. The trouble with avoiding Tim

was that it meant avoiding Paul and Fred whenever they were

with him. Which was most of the time. That left me exactly no

one to hang around with.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 120

As Paul and Fred were leaving I spotted Shawn waving

to a couple pulling up in a white sports car. Even from where I

stood I could see the bright red seats. Shawn hadn’t made

that up. But one car didn’t mean everything he said was true.

Suddenly, I had an idea. Shawn was sure to show his

parents his cabin. Maybe I could go over there and spy on

them and find out what they were really like. Maybe they were

mean old creeps. Maybe I’d get some proof that Shawn had

been making up most of what he said.

I sneaked over to Shawn’s cabin. No one was around,

so I decided to go inside and look around for a minute. I

tiptoed up the stairs, listening carefully to make sure the cabin

was empty.

I peered inside. The coast was clear. I saw a trunk with

Shawn’s name on it. Maybe I could find something in there. I

started to lift the lid. Then I heard someone coming!

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 121

I gently closed the lid and jumped out the door. There

was nowhere else to hide, so I rolled under the cabin. I prayed

no one could see me. What if I got caught? I bit my lip. What

if Mr. Ketter found me? I curled up in a ball and tried to make

myself invisible.

“This is my cabin.” It was Shawn.

“It’s a nice as you said it was,” a man’s voice replied.

Shawn’s dad.

“Just as you described it in your letters.” Ah, Shawn’s

mom.

“So you’ve really been having a good time at camp?”

Shawn’s dad asked.

“Oh, yes!” said Shawn. “I get to swim, play softball, go

horseback riding. I’m making a belt in Arts and Crafts. I’ve

made a lot of friends this summer. There’s even a girl who’s

really neat and...and cute, too.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 122

My mouth flew open. Shawn thought I was neat? And

cute? No. He must’ve been saying that to try to impress his

parents or something.

“So you’ve really been having a good time here this

summer?” Shawn’s mom said.

“I sure have! Of course, I’ll have even more fun at

Disney World when we—”

“Um, Shawn,” said his dad. “About Disney World...”

“You see,” said his mom, “something happened and...”

“We can’t go?” It was silent for a moment. Then Shawn

said, “It’s okay if we can’t go. I’ve had a great time at camp

again this summer, and just living with you...” His voice

trailed off. “What is it? What happened?”

“Oh, Shawn.” There was a catch in his mother’s voice.

“This is so hard. We didn’t want to have to tell you now,

here...but it can’t wait,” said Shawn’s dad, his voice cracking.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 123

“Your mother...the agency...The agency said your mother

changed her mind and wants custody of you again. They

consider her rehabilitated. She wanted to take you right away.

We did talk her into at least waiting until camp is over. But of

course it means we...we can’t adopt you after all.”

“My mother!” Shawn stomped on the floor and almost

scared me right out from under the cabin. “But...but I’ve

hardly even seen her for two years. She didn’t care whether

she saw me or not. How do they know she won’t start

drinking and...and everything again?”

My head spun. These must be Shawn’s foster parents.

Shawn would die if he knew I knew everything. Spying and

hiding was a big mistake. If I’d been on speaking terms with

Tim, he would have had the sense to talk me out of it. What a

jerk I was!

“You...you just have to believe your mother has

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 124

changed,” said his foster mother. “The agency is convinced

she can care for you now. Her rights weren’t going to be

terminated until all the t’s were crossed and i’s dotted, and,

unfortunately, when your mother changed her mind at the last

minute, that didn’t happen.”

“But what if...if she starts all over again?” Shawn’s

voice shook. “I don’t think I could take it.”

“We’re going to keep in touch with the agency,” said

Shawn’s foster father. “You know we’ll always be there for

you.”

“Yes,” said his foster mother. “Always.”

I swallowed hard. Shawn’s life was turning inside out

and there I was, spying on him.

“I won’t even be able to go to camp next year!” I could

hear Shawn flop down on the bunk and pound the mattress.

“My mother would never send me, even if she could afford it.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 125

And I don’t think I could earn enough myself.”

“I-I wish there was something we could do about that,”

said Shawn’s foster father. “But we already talked to her and

she won’t hear of letting us send you.”

“We love you and we always will,” said Shawn’s foster

mother. “Remember that.”

“I-I know. Me, too.” Shawn paused, then said. “I want

to be alone for a little while, okay? Just a few minutes.”

“We’ll take a walk down by the lake,” said Shawn’s

foster father. “Just look for us when you’re ready.”

As soon as Shawn’s folks left, I heard the bedsprings

squeak and then muffled sobs. My body was one big knot. A

fat spider stared at me from his web. I felt as though I was

trapped in a dungeon. I probably deserved to be locked up.

After a while I heard only sniffles. Then Shawn got up,

took a deep breath and left. I was afraid to move. But, I had to

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 126

get out of there.

I stretched the kinks out of my arms and legs. I

slithered out from under the cabin and looked around. The

coast was clear. I blasted out of there. I ran all the way back

to the infirmary.

“Well, hi,” said Mom, as I skidded inside. “What are you

doing here at this time of day?”

“I, um, it’s Parent’s Day.” I gave Mom a big hug. “I

thought I should spend it with you.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 127

CHAPTER 13

That evening I barely picked at my supper. I wanted to

talk to Tim. But whenever I looked his way, he had a deep

frown that looked as if it had been set in concrete.

“The forecast is for more rain tonight,” said Mom

“Yes, I heard,” said Mrs. White. “The lake is getting so

high.”

“If it gets any higher,” said Mom, “Mr. Wyatt is going to

have to close the camp early—whether he likes it or not. I’ll

see to it.”

With this news, Tim and I exchanged glances for a

second. But then his face frosted over again.

So after dinner I went for a walk by myself. At first, I

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 128

didn’t know where I was going. But soon I found myself on

the path through the woods in back of the boys’ cabins that

led to the softball field.

Somewhere in those woods were the peanuts I’d stolen

from Shawn. I’d felt a little guilty before, but now the thought

of what I’d done made me feel hollow. Maybe I could find the

peanuts. Maybe I could return them to Shawn and he could

still get points for them.

I looked around, trying to figure out where they might

be. Suddenly I tripped on a big root in the path.

“Darn.” I dusted myself off. “Stupid root. Root! That’s

it.” This was the spot where I’d thrown away the peanuts. I

thought about what direction I’d been facing and started

hunting.

Bramble scratched my legs. Branches caught my hair.

Leaves brushed across my eyes. No peanuts. I was about to

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 129

give up, when I spotted the brown paper bag under a bush. I

got down on my hands and knees and pulled it out. It was

torn, and empty except for a few broken shells.

A chipmunk scurried out from under the bush and ran

up a tree. Of course. Chipmunks had eaten all the peanuts.

I doddered my way up to the softball field and back. I

wandered over to the wooded area next to the infirmary.

Maybe if I sat and stared at the lake I could get rid of the

feeling that something was eating my insides.

I flopped down on a fallen log and peered out at the

lake. The water was creeping into the edge of the woods and

the ground there was squishy. I picked pieces of bark off the

log and threw them into the lake.

I heard footsteps. Maybe it was Tim. My insides twisted

with hope. I turned to look.

It was Shawn.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 130

“Hi, Shawn,” I said in as friendly a voice as I could

possibly manage. My cheeks burned as I thought of how I

spied on him and what I heard.

Shawn’s face was pale. He tried to smile. “Hi, Ellie.”

It was the first time he’d ever used my name.

I cleared my throat. “Um...want to sit down?”

“Yeah,” said Shawn. “Thanks.”

We sat for a few minutes without talking. I wanted to

say something to make him feel better. I wanted to make up

for being such a jerk. If only I’d tried to be friendly sooner. I

could see now that Mom had the right idea about Shawn.

Trouble was, I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t let

him know I’d been hiding under the cabin and heard

everything.

Finally, I said, “Looks like rain again, doesn’t it?” Oh,

boy. If ever there was a feeble attempt at conversation, that

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 131

was it.

But Shawn lifted his head to see the sky. “Yes. It looks

as if a real storm is coming.” He swung around to look at me.

Then he added, “It’s rained almost every night lately.”

“I know.” Something told me Shawn just wanted to talk.

It didn’t matter what we said. “My Mom thinks Mr. Wyatt

should close the camp if we get much more rain.”

“Really?” A look of interest brought some color back to

Shawn’s face. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. I think because the infirmary is so close

to the lake. She probably worries that we’ll be cut off from the

rest of the camp.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” said Shawn.

I tried to think of something else to say. But I couldn’t.

So, I just smiled at Shawn.

He started to smile back, a little.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 132

I felt something crawl on my leg. Without looking, I

smacked it. Suddenly a sharp pain jabbed deep into my leg.

“Yeeow!”

Shawn gasped. “It’s a hornet. You got stung by a

hornet!”

The pain dug deeper into my leg. Tears blinded my

eyes. I tried to blink them back.

“Come on.” Shawn put his arm around my waist and

helped me off the log. “I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

We took a few steps.

“Ow! It really hurts. I feel faint. I can hardly walk!”

“Lean on me.” Shawn pulled me closer. “That’s it.

Come on. Take it easy. You’ll be okay. Look. We’re almost

there.”

Through the tears pricking at my eyes, I could see the

infirmary steps.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 133

“Okay. One step at a time.” Shawn tightened his grip

and lifted me up each step. “Mrs. Endicott!” he called. “Mrs.

Endicott, please open the door!”

“What is—" Mom gasped and helped Shawn get me into

the infirmary. Together they lowered me onto a bed.

“It was a hornet,” Shawn said. “It stung her leg.”

Mrs. White and Tim ran into the room. “My goodness,”

said Mrs. White. “What happened?”

“A hornet stung Eleanor,” said Mom. “We’ll need some

ice.”

“I’ll get it!” Tim dashed into the back room, and came

back with a bowl of ice and a towel. Then he went upstairs.

Mom scooped a couple handfuls of ice onto the towel,

then pressed it against my leg. Mrs. White handed her a pair

of tweezers. Mom grabbed the stinger and carefully pulled it

out. “How’s that?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 134

“A little better,” I said. I turned to Shawn to see his

brow wrinkled with concern. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Sure,” said Shawn. “Any time.”

I smiled weakly, trying not to look guilty. Now I had

double reason to somehow make good on my peanut offense.

Mrs. White held up a bottle of pink lotion. “Let’s put on

some of the calamine for good measure.”

Mom doused a cotton ball with the lotion and smoothed

it over the hornet sting. It felt cool and soothing.

Tim returned. “I was going to wait until camp was over

to give you this.” He held up the necklace he’d made in Arts

and Crafts. “But now seems like a good time.”

“For...for m-me?” I stammered. “But...I...thanks, Tim.” I

sat up and slipped on the necklace. “It’s beautiful.”

Tim blushed and stared at the floor.

“Well..." Shawn shifted his weight from one foot to the

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 135

other. “You seem to be all right now, Ellie. I’d better get back

before my cabin counselor starts wondering where I am.”

“Oh. Okay.” I wanted to say more. A lot more. But all I

said was, “Thanks again, Shawn.”

“Yes,” said Mom. “Thank you so much.”

“Sure,” said Shawn. “Well. See you.” He didn’t look as

if he was in a hurry to go. But he turned and left.

“It’s getting late,” said Mom. “We should be going up to

bed.”

“Upstairs?” I tried to think quickly. I needed to talk to

Tim. Alone. “You know, Mom, I don’t know about getting up

the stairs with my leg still sore. I’m pretty comfortable right

here. How about if I sleep down here tonight? It would sort of

being like camping out.”

Tim must have read my mind. “I could sleep on the cot

in the back room,” said Tim. “In case Ellie needs anything.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 136

“Well...” said Mom.

“I suppose...” said Mrs. White.

“Thanks!” I said before that tiny look of doubt on Mom’s

face could grow any bigger.

“Remember, if you need anything, we’re right upstairs,”

said Mom.

“Okay.”

As soon as Mom and Mrs. White left I said, “Okay, Tim.

Now we can talk.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 137

CHAPTER 14

“I’m sorry I called you a wimp,” I said.

“I’m sorry I said you jumped off your horse.”

“I just wish you hadn’t said anything to Shawn.”

“What? I never said a word. To anybody. Honest.”

“But Shawn said..." I thought for a moment. Actually,

Shawn never said Tim told him anything. I had jumped to that

conclusion. “Oh, brother. What a jerk I’ve been. In more

ways than one.”

“I know you’re not perfect.” Tim grinned. “But, you’re

not a jerk.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.” I shuddered. “It was

awful.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 138

“Come on. How bad could it be?”

“Pretty bad.” I took a deep breath. I explained about

sneaking into Shawn’s cabin.

“Well, it wasn’t nice to snoop,” said Tim. “But it wasn’t

all that terrible.”

“You haven’t heard the worst part.” I hesitated. I didn’t

want to blab around what I knew about Shawn. But I had to

talk to someone, and I could trust Tim. I told him everything.

How I’d hid under the cabin and heard everything about

Shawn’s foster parents and his mother.

“Wow,” Tim said softly. “It must be rough for Shawn.”

“I know. I mean, Alan and I bug each other and bunking

with my Mom isn’t my idea of a great camp experience, but I

know they’re both there for me. I don’t know how I’d feel

about my mother if I were Shawn.”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “Sometimes my father and I don’t get

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 139

along. But it’s because we’re so different. I know I can count

on him.”

“Something else bothers me,” I said. “We always

thought Shawn was bragging. Maybe he was really truly

excited about what he was telling us about his foster parents.

Their behavior was something new to him.”

“I’ll bet you’re right--”

KA-BOOM! Thunder cracked. Lightning flashed. The

wind howled. A branch snapped. Heavy rain pelted the roof.

“Another downpour,” said Tim.

“Well, at least the sound of rain helps me sleep,” I said.

“Speaking of sleep,” said Tim. “I don’t know about you,

but I’m bushed. I think I’ll turn in. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” I lay back and pulled the sheet up. My

peanut-stealing confession would have to wait.

I don’t know if it was all the thunder, my leg starting to

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 140

ache and swell, or thinking about Shawn, but it took me

forever to fall asleep.

CHAPTER 15

I woke up to the sound of rain. But there was another

noise too.

Slap, slap, slap. It sounded as if it came from the back

porch. My leg was throbbing, but I got up. I limped over to the

back door and peered outside.

“Oh, my gosh!” I cried. “Tim, come here. Hurry!”

Tim stumbled in from the other room. “Ellie, what are

you—Yipes! There’s water up to the top step!”

“We’ve got to do something. My mother! She can't

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 141

swim. Your mother. Her broken arm.”

Tim ran to the side of the porch and peeked out through

the early light. “No one else is up. The water hasn’t reached

the lodge or cabins. Yet. Probably no one else even knows

we’re flooded. We could yell. But I don’t think anyone will

hear us with all this wind and rain.”

“The phone! I’ll call Mr. Wyatt in the lodge.”

“Of course.”

I picked up the phone and started dialing. “Oh, no. It’s

dead.”

“We’ve got to do something.”

I thought for a second. “The rowboat. We can all get in

the rowboat.” I hobbled out on the porch.

“You’re limping,” said Tim. “You’re leg is swollen.”

“No big deal,” I said. “I tied up the boat just yesterday.

But it must be at least thirty feet away. There are branches

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 142

and debris littering the water.” My heart pounded at the

thought of swimming through that mess, especially in poor

light.

I took a deep breath. “I’d better swim out there right

now. The water’s still rising. It won’t be long before the rope

pulls the bow of the boat underwater. Then we’re really sunk!”

I started for the edge of the porch. Suddenly, my leg

collapsed.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Tim as he helped me

up. “I’ll swim out and get the boat.”

“You?” I started to say. But the look of determination

on Tim’s face stopped me. This was no time to bluff. My leg

was too weak for me to swim.

“I’m a good swimmer—when I have to be,” said Tim.

He was about to dive off the porch, when I grabbed his

arm. “Wait! I’ll get a rope, so I can pull you in if you get in

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 143

trouble.”

“Oh, all right. But hurry!”

We took down the clothesline. I tied one end around

Tim’s waist and the other to the porch rail.

“Here I go, wish me luck!” Tim jumped in the water.

“Good luck!” I held the rope taut. If it got slack, I was

afraid it would get tangled on something.

It surprised me, but Tim was a strong swimmer. At least

he didn’t have to put his face in the water. But once he

reached the boat, I could see something was wrong. He held

onto the boat line. Then he went under the water.

Of course! I’d looped the rope through the metal ring.

Tim had to untie the line at the other end. How long could he

hold his breath? What if he panicked? Why hadn’t I insisted

on swimming out there! I started to count.

Nineteen, twenty... What was going on? I tugged on the

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 144

rope. I felt a tug from the other end. Twenty-four, twenty-five.

“Hurry, Tim. Hurry!”

Tim popped to the surface. He held up the other end of

the line!

I breathed a giant sigh of relief.

Tim climbed into the boat, untied the clothesline from

his waist and tied it to the boat. I pulled as he rowed.

“Heavens to my Aunt Gertrude!”

I nearly jumped out of my clothes. It was Mrs. White.

I heard Mom gasp. “What on earth is happening?”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 145

CHAPTER 16

“Good gravy!” Mrs. White shouted. “Is that Tim out

there?”

I fielded her question first. “Yes.”

“I knew this would happen.” Mom grabbed the rope and

helped pull Tim in. “I just didn’t expect it quite so soon. The

road will be flooded. We’ll all be stuck here at camp for at

least a couple of days.”

Funny how easily Mom and Mrs. White pitched in to

help. But then I guess nurses are used to emergencies.

When Tim was in reach, Mrs. White said, “Let’s get the

boat up onto the porch and tie it up good. We don’t want it

floating off."

When we pulled the boat safely onto the porch, Tim

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 146

said, “Ellie, did you have to tie such a good knot?”

Mrs. White laughed and gave him a quick hug. “We’d

better grab a few clothes and as many infirmary supplies as

possible. Then we’ll load the boat and hope we don’t sink!”

I found the necklace Tim gave me and put that on. Then

he and I headed upstairs. I spotted my camera, grabbed that

and gathered the basic necessities. By the time we finished,

Mom and Mrs. White had loaded the boat with medical

supplies. I heard Tim puffing and wheezing as we climbed in.

He shivered. His eyes were bloodshot.

“I’ll row,” I said. Tim didn’t argue.

The wind and rain made it tough going. My chest ached.

My arm muscles screamed as I pulled on the oars. Wet leaves

slapped my face. I could hardly see where I was going.

“Here! Over here!”

I turned and saw someone on land waving his arms. It

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 147

was Shawn. I pulled hard on the oars.

There was a loud snap.

“The oar broke!” I held up what was left of the handle.

There was silence. None of us was in any shape to

swim for it. Our only hope was that were close enough to

shore to somehow drift in.

“Shawn, don’t!” Mom screamed.

It was too late. Shawn dove in and swam toward us.

Suddenly there was a harsh crack. I looked up to see a

tree branch falling. Shawn was right under it.

“Look out!” I yelled.

Shawn dove under the water. The branch crashed into

the lake.

I held my breath. The branch bobbed and twisted.

Finally, Shawn surfaced just a few feet from the boat.

“That was close,” he said with a wet but cocky grin.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 148

I didn’t know if I wanted to hit him or hug him.

CHAPTER 17

“Throw me that rope,” said Shawn. “I’ll pull you to

shore.”

“Okay!” I tossed it to him, even though I doubted he

could tow us in. But if he had the rope to hang on to, maybe

he at least wouldn’t drown.

To my surprise, Shawn had us heading slowly towards

land. I crossed my fingers and hoped he’d have enough

strength to keep going.

Then, as if someone had waved a magic wand, half the

camp appeared at the edge of the water. They formed a chain

of people and ropes. Before I even had a chance to cheer,

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 149

they pulled us to shore.

“My boy!” cried Mr. Wyatt. He pulled a soaking and

shaking Shawn out of the water and engulfed him in a bear-

hug. “You must have been the one to ring the warning bell!

Thank goodness. The way the water’s rising, half of us

could’ve been washed away in our sleep!”

Alan helped Mom and Mrs. White out of the boat. “Gee,

you guys have all the fun.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. After a quick thanks to Mr. Stangel,

who helped me and Tim get out, I ran over to Shawn. “Thanks!

You saved us.”

“But I didn’t do any—” Shawn started to say.

“You’re a hero!” Tim exclaimed.

“Hold it,” said Shawn. “You guys really—”

“I don’t know if we would have made it without you,

Shawn,” Mom said.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 150

“Mercy, yes,” said Mrs. White. “We’d still be drifting in

circles out there! We could’ve ended up in the middle of the

lake in danger of being swamped.”

“Well, let’s get this hero—and the rest of you—up to the

dining hall and dried off,” said Mr. Wyatt. He led us on a

march up the hill.

The canoes had all drifted away. Even one of the docks

was gone. Two cabins were now flooded. A pair of shoes

floated out of one of them. The water was up to the second or

third step of the other cabins.

The dining hall was high enough so that the water was

just starting to lap at the bottom step. As we trouped inside,

Mr. Wyatt announced, “We’ll have the awards ceremony

tonight! Who knows how much longer we’ll be able to stay

here!”

I could see by the look on Mom’s face that she intended

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 151

to see that we didn’t stay in camp one minute longer than

necessary.

Campers were setting themselves up in the dining room.

We settled into the attic, where we dried off and

changed our clothes. The attic was dark and musty. I could

have sworn I saw a bat flying around. But at least it was warm

and dry and had several reasonably sturdy cots set up. I put

my necklace and camera on a wooden box next to my cot.

Thank goodness, I hadn’t lost them in the flood.

Mom, Tim and Mrs. White all lay down and closed their

eyes. I tried to rest, but my conscience was bothering me too

much. I couldn’t straighten out Shawn’s home life, but maybe

I could help him another way. I tiptoed downstairs and

knocked on Mr. Wyatt’s office door.

“Come in!” said Mr. Wyatt. “Oh, Eleanor. I was

expecting Mr. Ketter. We have to plan for the ceremony

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tonight.”

“About the ceremony..." I had to confess about the

peanuts if Shawn was going to have a chance to win. “It’s

Shawn. Um, that is, he doesn’t have as many points as he

should. I mean, he deserves more. Probably enough to win.

You see, uh, he, um, I--”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Mr. Wyatt.

“I’m trying to tell you...Shawn deserves the award

because—”

“An award for Shawn? Hmmm.” Mr. Wyatt rubbed his

chin.

“Yes, you see..." I swallowed hard. “He...that is...I—”

“Eleanor, Eleanor,” said Mr. Wyatt. “I know what

happened. You don’t have to explain to me!”

“Really?” My stomach fluttered. “But when...how—”

“I understand. You’re right. Shawn does deserve an

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 153

award. I know just how to handle the situation. Now, run

along so I can—Ah, Ken. Come on in! We need to get

started!”

Mr. Ketter eyed me suspiciously. How much did he

know about the peanuts? Had he said something to Mr.

Wyatt? Was my picture going to appear on a Top-Ten

criminals poster?

Mr. Wyatt rubbed his hands together. “Well, Ken, let’s

get started!”

I might as well have been a totem pole once Mr. Ketter

and Mr. Wyatt jumped into planning the awards ceremony, so I

went back up to the attic. To my relief, it was empty. I paced

around and wondered how Mr. Wyatt knew about the peanuts.

Even more, I wondered what he meant when he said he knew

just how to handle the situation. Would he tell Mom? Would

he parade me in front of the rest of the camp as an example to

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 154

future would-be criminals?

I’d gotten myself into a mess, and I wasn’t even sure it

was going to help Shawn.

The day dragged by. I picked my way through a supper

of dry cereal and bug juice. The not-so-exotic meal was due to

flooded roads that had prevented trucks from making

deliveries.

If I had to drink nothing but bug juice, it wouldn’t be

long before I’d get up the nerve to swim my way out of camp.

Finally, evening and the awards ceremony.

Tim and I sat with Fred and Paul. I saw Shawn and

waved him over to join us. He sat next to me.

“I wonder who’ll win the big prize,” Shawn said.

I shrugged. I wondered what on earth Mr. Wyatt was

going to do and if Shawn would still want to sit next to me

after he did it.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 155

Mr. Wyatt droned on about the challenges we’d all faced

at camp and how the flood was just one more.

My stomach clenched tight. I glanced at Shawn. I

wished we hadn’t started off on the wrong foot. I wanted to be

his friend. But what would he say if Mr. Wyatt gave him a

prize, but said it was because of my peanut stealing? He’d

probably never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame him. I looked at

Tim, Paul and Fred. I bet they wouldn’t think much of me

either.

“And now,” said Mr. Wyatt. “The announcement you’ve

all been waiting for—Camper of the Year!”

Mr. Ketter stepped forward and handed Mr. Wyatt an

envelope. They acted as if it were the Academy Awards.

“The race was very close this year.” Mr. Wyatt tore

open the envelope. “The winner is..." He rubbed his eyes and

pretended he couldn’t read it.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 156

Shawn leaned forward.

I was stiff with dread.

“The winner is Bob Shelton!”

Shawn slumped back in his chair.

Bob clomped his way to Mr. Wyatt amid cheers and

whistles.

“Congratulations!” Mr. Wyatt shook Bob’s huge hand.

“Fortunately your prize was kept in a back room of the Arts

and Crafts building.” He clapped twice. “Bring it in, boys!”

The kitchen doors opened. Alan and another boy

carried in a box with the word COMPUTER printed on the side.

Bob’s eyes almost rolled out of their sockets.

My mouth was dry. If it weren’t for me, Shawn might

have won that computer.

“May I have your attention, please!” Mr. Wyatt held up

his hands as Bob and his friends carted off his prize.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 157

“Attention, please! This morning it was brought to my

attention that due to unusual circumstances another camper

also deserves an award.”

I gripped the edge of my seat. It had to be something for

Shawn. It just had to. But what exactly would Mr. Wyatt do?

Would I be packed off to the basement in chains?

“One of our special campers, a young lady, brought this

to my attention.”

Everyone looked at me. I wanted to dissolve.

“The award is a bit unusual,” said Mr. Wyatt. “But we

hadn’t anticipated the need for two prizes.”

I swallowed a sharp lump in my throat.

“Shawn Day, would you step up here, please.”

Shawn pointed to himself and mouthed "me?"

“Yes!” Mr. Wyatt waved him over. He put his arm

around Shawn’s shoulder. “Do you know why you’re getting

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 158

this award?”

Shawn shook his head.

“Let me explain.”

Explain and get it over with! I wanted to shout.

“You’re a hero, Shawn. This morning you rescued four

people."

“But—”

“Yes! A genuine hero!”

The words echoed in my head. Shawn got his award for

bravery. My peanut stealing had nothing to do with it. Maybe

my regret, shame and learning from my own bad decision

were punishment enough.

I jumped to my feet and started clapping. Tim joined in.

Within seconds, there was a standing ovation for Shawn. My

stomach relaxed. Shawn was getting his reward. And maybe I

didn’t deserve it, but I was off the hook. But I knew I’d never

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 159

pull a stupid stunt like that ever again!

“Attention, attention!” Mr. Wyatt quieted the room. Mr.

Ketter stepped forward and handed Mr. Wyatt another

envelope. “And now for Shawn’s award.”

I held my breath as Mr. Wyatt tore open the envelope.

“For meeting service above and beyond the call of duty,

for facing the challenge! Shawn Day, you are awarded a

certificate covering all expenses for a full summer at Camp

Challenge next year!”

Shawn clutched the certificate to his chest. His speech

was just one word. “Thanks.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 160

CHAPTER 18

The next day after a breakfast of bug juice and more dry

cereal I overheard Mom talking to Mr. Wyatt. “The phone lines

have been repaired. The water’s receding. It won’t be long

before the roads are passable. If you don’t close the camp as

soon as possible, I’ll call in the health officials and have them

shut it down!”

There was a silence. Then Mr. Wyatt said, “You don’t

need to call the authorities. I’m getting going on it right now.

We’ll call all the parents. We’ll get everyone home in a couple

days at the most.”

That was all I needed to hear. I ran out on the front

porch of the dining hall to tell everyone. “Guess what! Camp

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 161

will be closed soon. We can all go home!”

“At last,” said Tim.

“That’s a relief,” said Fred. “I was afraid they’d run out

of food!”

“I just want a warm, soft, dry bed,” said Paul. “Sleeping

in the dining hall is not my idea of fun.”

“At least it’s been exciting,” said Tim.

“That kind of excitement I can do without.” I still didn’t

agree with the way he handled stuff he didn’t like to do. But I

had to admire the way he got things done when he had to. He

was never a wimp; he was just stubborn. And even if he’d

been afraid, so what? Who isn’t some times? I landed a

friendly punch on Tim’s arm.

“Hey, no rough stuff, you guys.” Shawn had just

wandered over from the cabin area.

“I’ve got some good news,” I said. “Mr. Wyatt is going

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 162

to close camp early. We’ll be going home in a couple days!”

“Home..." Shawn plunked himself down next to me on

the top step.

I could have bit my tongue. Why had I mentioned

home? Who knew what “home” was going to be like for

Shawn? Quickly I changed the subject. “Congratulations on

your award!”

“Thanks, but you know all I really did was—”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “You saved us.”

“That was really brave, what you did,” said Paul.

“Yeah,” said Fred. “I wouldn’t have gone into that water

for anything.”

“Thanks, guys, but—”

“I bet next summer you’ll be camper of the year,” I said.

“You think so?” Shawn looked at me uncertainly.

“Sure! You’re great at sports. The belt you made was

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 163

beautiful. You won all those peanuts..." My voice trailed off. I

felt my face turn red and hot. Those peanuts would be on my

conscience for the rest of my life.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Shawn. He

paused, then said, “I hope I didn’t bug you guys by hanging

around so much this summer.”

For a couple seconds there was an uneasy silence.

Then I said, “You didn’t bug us any more than we bugged each

other!”

“That’s right,” said Tim.

“You bet.” Paul elbowed Fred.

Fred rolled his eyes. Then he said, “Hey, I just

remembered. Mr. Stangel said we should get our stuff from

Arts and Crafts. Let’s do it now.”

We all trouped over to get our projects. Mr. Stangel was

trying to supervise a mob of boys who’d all had the same idea.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 164

“One at time now. Let’s line up. We need some order

around here.” Mr. Stangel waved his arms like a conductor

leading an orchestra.

I snaked my way through the line to my table and found

my ceramic tile.

“Lovely work,” said Mr. Stangel as he checked my name

off his list on my way out. “The colors are really striking.”

“Thanks.” I appreciated his comment, even though Mr.

Stangel always said something nice about everyone’s work.

No matter what it looked like, he always found the good in it.

I elbowed my way back out of the building. I saw Shawn

sitting on a log examining the belt he made.

I sat next to him. “Hi.”

He looked up. “Hi, Ellie.” He looked as sad and droopy

as a wilted flower.

“That’s a beautiful belt you made. I really like it.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 165

“You do?”

“You bet.” I wished I could think of something more to

say.

“What’s that you’re holding?”

“This?” I held it up for him to see. “It’s a ceramic tile I

painted for my mother. It’s not very good, but it’s the best I

could do. I guess she can use it as a coaster.”

“Great colors,” said Shawn. “Your mother will love it.”

“That’s true. She always likes everything I make for

her.” I gulped. I made things between me and my mom

sound so rosy. That probably made Shawn feel worse.

“I made this belt for my dad,” said Shawn.

“I know he’ll love it.” I hesitated, then reached over and

placed my hand over his. I wished I could tell him that

somehow everything would work out, everything would

somehow be okay. But of course, I couldn’t.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 166

Something told me he needed to talk about his situation.

Of course, he might get really angry and not want to talk to me

at all after I said my piece. But I felt I had to take the chance.

I took a deep breath and swallowed my jitters. “I...I have a

confession to make.”

A flash of humor crossed his face. “You left the water

running and that’s what cause this flood?”

I shook my head. I wished I could find a way to talk

about it lightly. But there was no way. “Um...I was walking

past your cabin on Parents Day, and, uh, I didn’t mean to

eavesdrop...but I couldn’t help hear—”

“You heard?

I thought he’d be angry, but there was a tone of fright in

his voice that made me feel worse than if he’d yelled at me.

“It...It sounded as if your life is...kind of mixed up right now.”

For the world’s longest minute, Shawn didn’t say a

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 167

word. Finally, he said softly, “It is.”

For another long moment, he didn’t say anything else.

Then he sighed and got this look of relief on his face, as if he

was glad he could talk about it. “I’m worried. I love my

mother, but she hasn’t ever been what you’d call...reliable.”

He stared at the ground. “I guess she loves me in her way. I

know my foster parents love me. But I still feel, well, alone.”

“Hey, you know what?” I said a bit too cheerfully. “I’m a

good letter writer. Maybe you and I could sort of...keep in

touch.”

Shawn looked up at me and smiled, just a little. “I’d like

that.” He paused, then said, “I’m not sure exactly where I’ll be

living. Mom and I used to live in Westbrook, but I don’t know if

that’s where we’ll go or not.”

“I live in Glenwood!”

“That’s the next town over,” said Shawn. “Maybe we

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 168

could even...I mean...that is, if you didn’t mind..."

“We could see each other.”

“Yeah!”

“Look, I know definitely where I’ll be,” I said. “Before

we leave camp, I’ll give you my address and phone number

and you can get in touch with me.”

“For sure!” said Shawn.

Suddenly the other guys bounded over.

“Hey! Check out this basket,” said Fred.

“Not bad,” said Shawn—even though it was lopsided.

“How about this?”

“That’s neat,” I said. I meant it, even though his basket

was kind of floppy.

“Look at Tim’s basket,” said Fred. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, not really,” said Tim.

But I could see that he was proud. He’d had time to

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 169

weave the small basket after he’d made the necklace for me.

Suddenly I noticed Tim, Fred and Paul staring at me. Or

I should say, at my hand. It was still resting on Shawn’s. Tim

probably figured out the situation, but Fred and Paul looked

puzzled. But neither of them said a word.

I could have gotten embarrassed. Instead, I quickly

said, “I’ve got an idea. Let me get my camera. I want pictures

of this flood.”

I dashed up to the attic and grabbed my camera. I

spotted my necklace and put that on. As I ran downstairs, I

bumped into Alan.

“Ellie, I was looking for you. Mom says we’ll be going

home soon. Hey! The camera. Great. Take a picture of me

and the rest of the kitchen crew.”

“Well...okay.” I tried to sound as if I were doing him a

big favor.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 170

“I’ll round up everybody and meet you outside,” Alan

said as he ran off.

I went out to get some shots of the flood first.

“Over here,” said Tim. He smiled when he saw I was

wearing the necklace. He pointed to a clump of bushes half

under water. “It’s Mort and Matilda.”

I took their picture as they swam into view.

“Over here,” said Fred. “This chipmunk. He’s eating

something. I think it’s cereal.”

“Now why would anyone throw out perfectly good

cereal?” I joked. I knelt down to get a close shot.

I took pictures of water swirling around trees, the

flooded cabins and the infirmary.

“Here we are!” It was Alan with the whole kitchen crew.

“Okay, form a group,” I said. As I looked through the

viewfinder everyone jostled for position. “Hold still. Okay.

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 171

Got it.”

“Take another one,” said Alan. “Some camera hog was

blocking me.”

I took another picture, then checked my film. “Hey,

there’s only one picture left. I want one of me with my

friends.”

“I’ll take it,” said Alan.

Tim, Fred, Paul and I lined up on the top step of the

dining hall.

“Ready?” said Alan.

“Wait a second.” I looked around for Shawn. He was

off to the side, leaning against the porch rail. I waved for him

to come over. “Come on, Shawn!”

Shawn came over and stood next to me. I put my arm

around his shoulder. He slid his around my waist. “Okay,

Alan,” I said. “This is what I want. A picture with all my

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 172

friends.”

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 173

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ann Herrick grew up in Connecticut, where she graduated

from The Morgan

School and Quinnipiac University Her interest in writing grew

out of a love

of books developed by her parents who read to her, and great

teachers in an excellent school system.

Ms. Herrick is also the author of an illustrated e-book for

young children,

as well as four novels for older children. The Perfect Guy was

an

International Reading Association/Children's Book Council

Children's Choice winner and an American Library Association

Recommended Book for Reluctant Readers. The author also

writes short stories for children and teenagers and copy for

Camper of the Year Ann Herrick 174

humorous greeting cards.

Along with her cats, Ann Herrick now lives with her husband in

Eugene,

Oregon, where their grown daughter and grand-dog also

reside. She loves to hear from her readers and may be

contacted through her web site at

http://ann.herrick.home.att.net