Kristy's Book Read online

  Jill answered both questions. “There are two softball cabins,” she explained. “We’re the Bluejays. The cabin next to us are the Robins. Our cabins make up the teams that play one another during softball practice. For those games the Bluejays wear blue T-shirts or hats and the Robins wear red ones. It’s sort of a camp tradition.”

  “Neat,” I said. I rifled through my footlocker for my blue T-shirt.

  When we walked into the mess hall I didn’t have any trouble spotting the Robins’ table. Every girl at table eight had something red on.

  We sat down. The camp director, Mrs. Spence, made a short speech welcoming us to Camp Topnotch. Then two girls from each table went to the kitchen to pick up platters and bowls of food. When Jill handed me the bread plate she whispered, “Watch the Robin on the end. The one with the red headband.”

  “Why?” I whispered back.

  “Because she just put sugar on her potato instead of salt.”

  I watched the girl take a bite of her potato. She pulled a face that said, Hey, this tastes weird. Then she cautiously took another bite. Jill had to put her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh out loud. The girl picked up the salt shaker, sprinkled some “salt” on the tip of her finger, and licked it. I saw her tell the other girls at her table that there was sugar in the salt shaker. They all looked toward our table. One of them gave us a thumbs-down sign.

  “The war has begun,” whispered Jill. Most of the girls at the Bluejays’ and Robins’ tables were smiling and kidding around about the prank, so I figured the competition between the Robins and the Bluejays was all in good fun.

  I had trouble falling asleep that first night at camp. I was afraid that when I woke up I’d forget where I was, step out of bed, and fall five feet to the floor. Also, the country night noises were unfamiliar to me. The crickets were having a battle of the bands! But mostly I couldn’t fall asleep because I was homesick. Homesick for my home and my family.

  The next morning I woke up to a trumpet playing reveille. As I climbed out of the bunk I remembered how sad and lonely I’d felt when I was trying to fall asleep. “It’s a great day for softball,” Jill remarked. Softball! Today I was going to play softball all day long. I wasn’t sad anymore.

  Our coach, Victoria Martin, was terrific. She started us off with calisthenics. By nine-thirty we were doing batting and fielding drills.

  When I caught a pop fly on the run, Coach Martin shouted, “Good play, Kristy.” I kept an eye on Samantha Hunter. She was a good player, too. But I made up my mind that this year I was going to be Camp Topnotch’s best shortstop.

  After lunch Coach Martin told us the positions we’d each play for our first Bluejays versus Robins game. She listed the Robins’ positions first. I wasn’t surprised when she said, “Samantha Hunter. Shortstop.” Next, Coach Martin announced positions for the Bluejays. If only I could be shortstop, too. Then Coach Martin could see what a good player I was and then I’d have a chance of being the first-string shortstop for the camp team. I held my breath as Coach Martin read the names and positions. Finally, she said, “Kristy Thomas. Shortstop.”

  Yess! I thought. Jill and Melissa both patted me on the back.

  Between the first and second innings Samantha and I passed one another in the field. “Hey, Shorty,” she said, “how’s it going?”

  “Good,” I replied. I punched my glove. “Real good. But my name’s Kristy.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Listen, Shorty, I’m going to be shortstop for the camp team. So don’t forget it, okay?”

  “Break it up out there,” called Coach Martin. “Let’s play ball.”

  Samantha punched her fist in her glove and smiled at me. I didn’t think it was a friendly smile.

  I didn’t let Samantha ruin the game for me, though. It was great to play with seventeen other girls who loved softball as much as I did. By the top of the seventh inning the Bluejays were down two runs. And Melissa — our best hitter — was coming up to bat with two girls on base. Trouble was, when Melissa started walking toward the on-deck circle, she fell on her face.

  A lot of us ran over to see if she was okay. By the time Coach Martin reached Melissa she was standing again and brushing herself off. “I’m okay,” she said. “Tripped over my own two feet.”

  Everyone laughed, especially the Robins.

  But Melissa lost her concentration because of that fall. She struck out and we lost the game. Softball was over for the day. It was time for free swim.

  As the Bluejays walked back to the cabin to change into our swimsuits, the Robins skipped past us chanting, “We won because we won because we won because we won …”

  I thought that was pretty obnoxious and said so to Jill.

  “What’s more obnoxious is why they won,” Jill said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The Robins tied my shoelaces together,” Melissa explained. “When we were changing sides, a whole bunch of them started poking around the ground near the bench. They said they were looking for someone’s retainer. What they were really doing was tying my shoelaces together. I didn’t notice because Sam distracted me by talking about the game in that teasing way of hers.”

  “Did you tell Coach Martin they did that?” I asked.

  “We never tell Coach Martin about this stuff,” said Melissa. “It’s between the Robins and the Bluejays.”

  Jill gave Melissa a little punch on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Melissa,” she said. “We’ll get back at them.” And we did.

  At dinner the Bluejays asked for seconds on buttered noodles. I snuck the refilled bowl under the table and dropped the noodles into a plastic bag. When the Robins climbed into their bunks that night they thought there were worms under the covers with them. You could hear their shrieks all over camp.

  The next morning after breakfast Patti told us to “cool it on the pranks.” But the night before I’d heard the Robins’ counselor and Patti laughing about our prank. No one at Camp Topnotch was taking our intercabin pranks and rivalry too seriously. Not yet, anyway.

  That afternoon during the practice game Samantha purposely got in my way when she was running to third and I lost the path of the ball. I made an error. I was furious at her. And it’s hard to play good ball when you’re angry. I made another error on an easy ground ball in the seventh inning. Samantha was getting to me.

  We still won that game by a score of seventeen to ten. “Good game, Robins and Bluejays,” Coach Martin said. “Now go be fish for awhile. It’s free swim time.”

  On the way back to our cabins, the Bluejays chanted, “We won because we won.” Even though I had thought it was obnoxious when the Robins did that the day before, I shouted “We won” louder than anyone else.

  It was a hot day and we were dusty and sweaty from playing ball. I couldn’t wait to jump into the cool clean lake. The Bluejays raced one another around the cabin to the clothesline in the back where we’d hung our suits out to dry. The line was empty. “Maybe Patti put them inside,” I suggested.

  We went into the cabin. Our suits were nowhere in sight.

  “The Robins,” muttered our pitcher, Rita. It took us ten minutes to find our suits. They were stuffed into Jill’s pillowcase, all tied to one another in a big knot. A note was pinned to the tangle of suits.

  We were fifteen minutes late for afternoon swim. At dinner that night Mrs. Spence announced to the whole camp that the Bluejays were demerited ten points in the competition for Cabin of the Year. The Robins applauded. Mrs. Spence scolded the Robins publicly for their poor camp spirit and told the Robins to apologize to us. The whole Robin table said, “We’re sorry, Bluejays.” We knew that they didn’t mean it, of course.

  Before lights out that night, Patti gave us a lecture. “Girls,” she said, “I can’t understand how you could all be so late for swim period. Don’t you want us to be best cabin? If we win, we can go to Splish Splash Amusement Park the second to last day of camp. Now come on, let’s have a little team spirit here.�
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  We told Patti we were sorry and that we’d try hard to win best cabin. I wasn’t enjoying the pranks very much. I wished we’d stop playing them and concentrate on playing good softball. But the pranks weren’t over.

  When I got into bed that night I discovered that my bed had been short-sheeted. I curled up inside the little bit of space that was left for me under the blanket. I felt a piece of paper in there with my toes. I knew that a Robin had snuck into our cabin, short-sheeted my bed and left me a note. When I was sure Patti was asleep, I pulled my bedding apart and remade my bed. Then I got under the covers with my flashlight and read the note:

  I couldn’t fall asleep after that. I worried about whether I was a good shortstop after all. Being at camp with other girls who loved softball as much as I did was fun. But it also meant that I was with other very good players. I had to face the fact that maybe I wasn’t as good a player as I thought I was, that maybe I wasn’t as good as Samantha Hunter.

  During softball practice the next morning we had more turns at bat than the other two days. Then Coach Martin hit some hard grounders to us. I missed two. Samantha didn’t miss any.

  After lunch we gathered around Coach to hear who would make first string for the camp team. “Okay,” said Coach Martin. “Here’s our team lineup. Everyone not on first string will be on the bench ready to come in at any time and to cheer the team on. I promise you’ll all have the opportunity to play in the All-Camp games. Remember, we’re not competing with each other. We’re competing with other camps.”

  “Right,” said Samantha. She winked at me. I didn’t think it was a friendly wink.

  Coach Martin read off the list of first-string players for Camp Topnotch. “First base. Jill.” I gave Jill a congratulatory punch on the arm. I was really happy for her. Melissa was second base. Now if only I could be shortstop.

  “Shortstop,” Coach Martin finally announced. I crossed my fingers behind my back and held my breath. “Samantha Hunter.”

  “Oo-oh, too bad,” Jill whispered. “I thought you’d get it for sure.” That day I had to face the fact that Samantha was a better player than me.

  Samantha walked over to me. “Tough luck, Shorty,” she whispered.

  I was thinking a lot of nasty things I’d like to say to her, but I just turned and walked away.

  That night the Robins found two snakes in their cabin. Believe it or not, the Bluejays didn’t put them there. But we took credit for it anyway.

  Camp Topnotch won the first All-Camp game. I kept my eye on the action, especially at shortstop. I had to admit to myself that Samantha Hunter was a terrific shortstop. I was beginning to think that coming to Camp Topnotch hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

  Our softball schedule for the next two weeks included six All-Camp games. Coach Martin put me in the outfield for a couple of innings each game, but it was boring compared to being shortstop. And being on the bench for the rest of the innings was very boring. We won three games and lost three. Coach Martin thought we should have won all of those games. She kept giving us speeches about team spirit. But it didn’t do any good.

  The problem with our camp team was that we were still involved in the Robins versus Bluejays competitions. We were more interested in the outcome of our pranks and the games between the Bluejays and the Robins than in the All-Camp games.

  In the van on the way to our seventh game Coach Martin gave us another pep talk. “Look, I don’t feel a team spirit here. To win you’ve got to play together as a team. It isn’t Robins versus Bluejays anymore. You’re all on the same team.”

  We lost our seventh All-Camp game.

  In the van on the way back to camp, Robins and Bluejays blamed each other for the loss. The team pitcher (a Bluejay) blamed the catcher (a Robin) for giving her misleading signals. The shortstop (a Robin) blamed the first baseman (a Bluejay) for a wide throw to second, ruining a possible double play.

  We went from that argument to arguing about which cabin team was better, the Robins or the Bluejays. We compared scores from the games we’d played against one another and said things such as, “We’re going to kill you the next time. Just wait and see.” And, “You couldn’t hit a T-ball.”

  Most of the times when kids talk like that they’re kidding. The Bluejays and the Robins were not kidding.

  During our argument Coach Martin was leaning back with her eyes closed. I figured she was taking a nap, but I soon realized she must have heard every word. As the van turned onto the dirt road that led to camp, Coach Martin suddenly jumped up and asked the driver to pull over and stop the van.

  “What happened, Coach Martin?” Alicia yelled.

  Jill mumbled, “A Robin probably put sand in the gasoline tank.”

  Coach Martin stood in the aisle and stared at us. She was silent and stern.

  The girls were calling out questions. “Hey, Coach Martin, what’s up?” And, “Why are we stopping?” And, “Is the van broken?” Coach Martin didn’t answer any of our questions. Finally, we all quieted down and waited to see what would happen next.

  Coach Martin spoke in a quiet voice, but you could tell she was angry. “I’ve talked to this team about team spirit until I’m blue in the face,” she began.

  “See, Coach Martin is a Bluejay,” someone called out. A few Bluejays laughed. Coach Martin didn’t. We were quiet again.

  “You girls are more interested in beating one another than in beating other teams,” she continued. “No team plays its best when there’s in-fighting. Believe me, it is no fun to coach a team that acts the way you do. It is no fun to watch your games, either. I am ashamed of your behavior. So guess what. I don’t want to have anything more to do with this team. I quit as your coach.”

  “What about the rest of the All-Camp games?” someone called out.

  “Mrs. Spence can assign someone to go with you to your games or she can withdraw the team from the competition. I don’t care. I’m not going with you.”

  “Aw, come on, Coach Martin,” someone shouted. “Don’t do that.”

  Coach Martin told our driver that she’d walk back to camp. Then she pushed open the van door and left.

  As soon as she was gone everyone started talking. Bluejays blamed Robins for not keeping the pranks secret. And Robins blamed Bluejays for bragging in front of Coach Martin about their wins in our intercabin games. I didn’t say anything. I was feeling pretty rotten about Coach Martin’s quitting. I was feeling pretty rotten about everything at Camp Topnotch. I wanted to go home.

  We went back to our cabins to change out of our sweaty, dusty uniforms. Since we’d been on our softball trip during mail call, Patti had put our mail on our pillows. I could see I’d gotten something. I climbed up on my bunk to read what I thought would be another letter from my mother. But it wasn’t a letter, it was a postcard with a picture of a carousel. I turned the card over. It wasn’t from my mother. It was from Mary Anne.

  “Your friend, Mary Anne.” I was suddenly sad and lonely. I missed my best friend. I thought about how kind Mary Anne was. I knew that if she were at Camp Topnotch she’d hate all the fighting between the Robins and the Bluejays.

  I read the card again. As I read, “Kristy + softball = fun” I thought, I’m not having any fun playing softball. I remembered what Coach Martin said to us in the van. “It is no fun to coach a team that behaves the way you do. It is no fun to watch your games.”

  The other girls in my cabin were still complaining about Coach Martin and blaming the Robins for all the trouble. Listening to them reminded me of the way I’d been behaving during the last few weeks. I had to admit to myself that I was part of the problem. I’d been playing pranks, I hadn’t had any camp spirit, and I’d been very jealous of Samantha. I wasn’t proud of myself. “And look how Sam took the shortstop position from Kristy,” complained Melissa. “She’s always bragging about it.”

  “Hey, Kristy,” Jill said. “What was that mean thing Sam said to you today?”

  I was about to repeat
a stupid insult that Sam had made during the game with Camp Buckley, but I stopped myself. Instead I said, “You guys, what are we going to do about our coach? It’s serious when a coach quits.”

  “Yeah, it is,” agreed Melissa. “And she’s a great coach.”

  “We haven’t been acting like a great team,” I said. “Let’s have a meeting and figure out what we can do to straighten things out and make softball fun again.”

  “It’d be fun to play a bunch of games against the Robins and show everyone who’s the best once and for all,” said Tammy.

  “But we’re supposed to be playing for the camp,” I said. “That means working with the Robins, not always fighting with them.”

  “Kristy has a point,” said Jill.

  “The only way we can fix things is if the Robins and Bluejays work together,” I said. “That means we have to sit down and talk with them about what’s been going on.”

  “The Robins want to have a meeting with the Bluejays, too,” said a voice from the door. We looked over to see Sam and the other Robins standing at our door.

  “It was our idea to have the meeting first,” one of the Robins piped up.

  “Hey, guys,” I said. “That’s not the point. We have to stop that stuff.”

  “Right,” said a voice. I didn’t even bother to think about whether it was a Bluejay or a Robin who said it.

  Jill suggested we go outside and sit in a circle in the area between our two cabins and have a meeting. Sam suggested that we invite our counselors to help us iron things out. At the meeting we all had a chance to talk.

  That evening the Robins and the Bluejays walked into the dining room … together. All talking stopped. The other campers were watching us. Instead of going to our tables we walked straight to where Coach Martin was sitting. Sam and I, as representatives of our joint cabins, handed her a petition that read:

  Everyone in the two cabins had signed that petition. Coach Martin read it, thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll watch your practice tomorrow. I won’t give you any instructions. I’ll just be an observer. Then I’ll decide.”