Camp by Elaine Wolf Page A

believe you’re related.”
    So Erin noticed it too—how Robin and Rory had become buddies. How could Robin be the same girl who used to invite me to her birthday parties? And why did she seem to hate me now?
    Erin and I sat on the boathouse floor that afternoon, our backs to canoes racked against the wall. I tried to tuck my legs to the side rather than cross them. Patsy would manage to sit like a lady, I was sure. My mother too. They would assume the perfect pose no matter how hard the damp floorboards pushed against their limbs. I wriggled to find comfort and poise, then gave up. Why chafe my thigh when my mother wasn’t there to see me? I crossed my legs as the story about Rory and her father burst out. “But don’t tell anyone,” I said. “Donnie said no one’s supposed to know.”
    “Well, actually, I heard that rumor last summer,” Erin said.
    “But doesn’t it bother you?”
    “I don’t know. Guess I don’t think about it much or I would’ve already told you. I mean, why should I even think about that? Why think about something that might not even be true about someone I hate to think about in the first place?” Erin paused to stare at an army of ants working its way up a paddle. “But what I do think about,” she went on, “is what Rory did to you. And what really makes me angry is she gets away with it. And she’ll do it again and again till someone stops her. So maybe that’s what we ought to be talking about. It’s time for revenge, I say. Don’t get mad; get even.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Maybe we should get her before she tries anything again.” Erin twirled a pigtail with her index finger. “It’s like I told Nancy: I’d rather eat worms than cave in to Rory all summer.”
    “So what can we do?”
    “Give her a taste of her own medicine. That’s what I say. Make Rory suffer for a change.” A smile crinkled Erin’s face, visible in the thin line of sunlight that snuck through the boathouse door, which we always left cracked open. She threw a playful punch at my shoulder. “We’re smart. We’ll think of something.”
    “But last night, when Uncle Ed threatened to kick her out of camp, you should have seen her.”
    “ What ? He did what ?”
    I told Erin what had happened the night before.
    “That’s great. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner. So how’s this? We get Rory to do something really bad when your uncle’s around. Maybe at the Saginaw social.” She twirled her pigtails until I thought her hair would spring from her head. “Holy moly! We could get her sent home.”
    “I don’t know. You didn’t see how Rory looked when Uncle Ed said he’d kick her out.” I surprised myself with this hesitation. Of course I wanted Rory kicked out. Sometimes I still wished she would drown in the lake. Every time I looked at her now, I imagined pushing her off the float and waiting for the snapping turtle to strike. But even so, I didn’t want her to suffer at the hands of her father.
    “Listen, Ame.” There it was: my nickname, the bridge to friendship. Best friends for the next six weeks. Maybe getting even with Rory wouldn’t be wrong, no matter what might happen to her. After all, she had threatened Erin and the others when they left my initiation. Maybe it was my turn now to do something for them: help them go after Rory. An eye for an eye. That old Hammurabi Code I’d learned about in social studies.
    “Listen,” Erin said again. “We need to make a plan. The Saginaw social’s coming up. Whaddaya say we get our gang together tomorrow at rest hour and work it out?”
    “What gang?”
    “You know: you and me, Donnie, Fran, and Karen. The ones who turned on Rory during that stupid initiation. And Paula too, from my cabin. We’ll meet here in the boathouse. Rory’ll never find us. You and I are the only ones who use this place. So tomorrow then. I’ll spread the word. Rory watches you more than me, so I’ll get everyone here. You just show up