Summer Camp Adventure by Marsha Hubler

corral if you need me.” The man’s voice trailed away.
    Skye sat on her haunches, contemplating her next move. Jonathan stared off into space with crocodile tears streaming out of his big brown eyes. By now, his nose had joined in, thick liquid running down over his lips.
    Skye reached into her jeans pocket for a wad of tissues. All in one move, she pulled one loose and reached toward Jonathan’s nose.
    Smack! Jonathan slapped Skye’s hand so hard the tissue flew. With eyes full of contempt and the nastiest scowl he could muster, he stared straight at her.
    “I hate you!” he signed viciously.
    Favoring her stinging hand, Skye sat dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that,” she signed. “You always say you like me.”
    “I don’t like you!” he said. “I hate you! Just leave me alone!” Again he turned, this time with his back toward Skye. He buried his face in his arms, and again cried in loud sobs.
    Slowly Skye stood, and for a brief moment stared at the heartbroken boy. He hates me .
    The last time she had heard those awful words was in one of her foster homes, a long time ago, where she lived above a garage and was treated like a maid. The other kids in that home had said that too. At that terrible place, she knew she wasn’t wanted, spending more time in the garage than in the house. Ugly memories filled her mind like a flooding cesspool. Her own eyes filled with tears.
    Should I try to help? she asked herself. Can I? She reached and almost touched Jonathan’s quivering shoulder but quickly withdrew her hand.
    I’m not helping him at all , she told herself. I’m only making things worse . With her own tears streaming, Skye turned and fled the barn.
    “Skye!” Mr. Wheaten yelled from behind. “Wait!”
    Halfway across the road, Skye stopped. Wiping her eyes, she turned as Mr. Wheaten covered the distance.
    “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” Mr. Wheaten’s eyes and opened hands expressed his deep concern.
    Skye’s body heaved with deep sobs. “Oh, Mr. Wheaten, I just can’t help Jonathan. He hates me. I just can’t do this anymore.”
    “Aw, little lady,” the big man said. He reached his muscular arms around Skye and drew her toward him. He patted her on the head. “That’s all right, Annie. You’ve done the best you could.”
    “But—but I don’t want to disappoint you—or the Lord!” she cried, wiping her nose on her arm.
    “Oh, you haven’t,” Mr. Wheaten said in a consoling voice. “I think you just need a rest from all this pressure. Don’t feel so bad. I’ll reassign Jonathan and his classes to Tim and Linda. Maybe my wife can help too. Now don’t you worry your pretty little head over this. We’ll help this kid yet.”
    Skye stepped back from the man and stared into his compassionate eyes. “But I can’t! And I wanted to help him. I feel like such a failure!”
    “Well, now, the summer’s just startin’. You can work with him again, if you want to. Maybe in a week or two, you’ll feel strong enough to try it. What do ya say?”
    Skye pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. “If you say so, Mr. Wheaten. This might be the best thing for all of us, especially Jonathan.”
    Mr. Wheaten looked around and then focused on the barn. “Is he still in there?”
    “Yeah.” Skye sniffled.
    “You tend to the horses,” Mr. Wheaten said. “I’ll get Tim, and we’ll take care of Jonathan. Sooner or later, he’s gotta learn to listen.”
    “I sure hope it’s not later,” Skye said, walking toward the corral.
    “Me too, little lady,” Mr. Wheaten said. “Me too.”

chapter thirteen
    T he next morning in the cafeteria, Skye and Morgan monitored their girls at the Five Ferns table. Caleb had just gotten Morgan her tray and was sitting beside her. Skye sat down at the other end of the table and searched the room, looking for a certain blond young man. At a corner table Chad and Linda sat together, laughing up a storm. Skye just smiled.
    At the doorway