Witch Twins Read online

  “Um, it’s our other camp color besides blue?” Pam answered in the same how-did-you-get-so-dumb? voice that Justin sometimes used. But Claire had known Justin all her life, and she had met Pam only five minutes ago. A how-did-you -get-so-dumb? voice was not a very friendly way to talk to an almost-stranger.

  “Buff is another word for light brown or beige,” said Tammy nicely. “Blue-and-Buff Day is our all-day sports competition. We pick captains, divide into teams, and compete for the title. Last year, the Blue Team won. That’s why a blue flag flies over the camp. But I’m senior captain of the Buff Team, and I want a new flag raised! Check the back of your name tag. Is the sticker on it blue, or buff?”

  Claire checked. “Buff!” she said. “Is there a tug-of-war?”

  “Oh, yes! Plus rope climbing, canoeing, archery, capture the flag, lemon-spoon balancing, volleyball, three-legged races—you name it. Okay, I better go round up my campers. See you later.”

  “Wait! Watch my trick!” Claire said. She wanted to impress Tammy quick before she disappeared back to the Green Gables cabin. But just as Claire dropped into a handstand (her plan was to walk backward on her hands), her foot kicked out into someone’s leg, which, as she jumped right side up, she saw was attached to a skinny red-haired girl.

  “Sorry,” said Claire, although she had the feeling it was really the red-haired girl’s fault.

  The girl just rolled her eyes and brushed past.

  “Show me later,” called Tammy, with a wave good-bye.

  Claire watched Tammy go with a heavy heart. Why did cool Tammy have to be a counselor for Green Gables, while she was stuck inside Sleepy Hollow with yuck, rule-crazy Pam?

  And why did she have to be in the same cabin as a mean red-haired girl who might have pushed against her and might have wrecked her handstand for totally no reason?

  She looked over at Luna, who had found her trunk and was kneeling in front of it, unpacking and refolding and arranging her clothes carefully in the bottom drawers of a bureau. Luna was not going to be much help in this situation. She had not even checked her name tag to see if she was on the Blue or the Buff Team. (Claire checked—luckily, Luna’s sticker was buff, too.)

  If Claire wanted to be Camp Bliss Girl, well, she would have to figure it out on her own.

  3

  The Pillowcase Fund

  LUNA DID NOT KNOW what to do about her top-bunk sickness. As soon as she realised that there were no more bottom bunks left in the Sleepy Hollow cabin, the symptoms—a small cramp in her stomach and a drumming at her temples—started.

  She tried to make the top-bunk sickness go away by thinking of nice things. Such as how peaceful her kitten looked when she slept in her basket. Or the taste of warm summer strawberries. Or the silken brush of beach sand between her toes.

  All she could feel was sick at the prospect of sleeping in the top bunk.

  She confessed her problem to Claire at that night’s Welcome Campers cookout. Claire was no help.

  “Toads and tamales, Luna! It’s not my fault we got top bunks. Everyone called the bottom bunks before we came.”

  “I could sleep in the office. There’s a first-aid room in the back. It has a bed. I saw it.”

  “Sure, go ahead. If you want kids to make fun of you, that is.” Claire sniffed. “They’ll call you names before camp has even officially started. Like Chicken Luna or Loser Luna or Luna Boo-hoo or—”

  “Okay, okay. I get the point.”

  Luna could tell that Claire was distracted by so much else going on around them. So many new faces to see. So many names and rules and songs to learn. The last thing Claire ever would want to do was to sleep in the first-aid room and miss out on everything.

  Zestlessly, Luna carried her paper plate over to a space all by herself and took a bite of her charred hamburger. She chewed and sighed and thought. Five weeks of teetering on the top bunk, and no way out. How long would she last? How would she even last the night?

  After the cookout, there was a sing-along, and the counselors introduced themselves. Then the counselors performed a skit that tried to teach some of Camp Bliss’s rules in a funny way. Then it was time for bed.

  Camp is stupid, Luna thought, as she trudged back to Sleepy Hollow, where she changed into her nightshirt and brushed her teeth. And when it’s not stupid, it’s bad. Nothing but rules and burnt burgers and top bunks and smarty-pants Pam.

  She went to the outhouse and stayed so long that girls yelled and pounded on the door for their turn. Just before she began the dreadful climb up, up, up to her top bunk, Luna thought about using her bottle of Marigold Zest, which she had hidden carefully in her bureau in her plastic soap case. But, no, zest was not what she needed. Zest would not help her get a good night’s sleep on the top bunk.

  Zest was not the same thing as bravery.

  “’Night, guys,” called Pam from her cot. “We’re up at six tomorrow, so I’d advise against talking to your neighbors.” She extinguished the door lantern. The cabin went dark and, after some giggles and whispers, quiet.

  It was a terrifying first night. Every time Luna almost drifted off to sleep, she thought she could feel herself falling. Rolling down a mountaintop or plummeting through black outer space or dropping clean off the side of a—argh! She jolted awake with a start, her pulse pounding as her hands gripped the mattress edges. Safe! For now. Until she closed her eyes and was on the top of the mountain again. Oh, she would never get a good night’s sleep!

  A kick lifted her mattress from beneath.

  “Would you shut up?” The voice was loud and deep, especially for a girl.

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s me, Lakshmi, who sleeps under you. Or I’m trying to, at least. But it’s pretty hard, with you muttering and groaning and sighing like some kind of haunted house.”

  “Sorry.” Luna pictured Lakshmi’s face, her velvet brown eyes staring up angrily at Luna’s mattress.

  “Get to know your cabin mates,” Pam had told them earlier, at the cookout. “You’re going to be spending a lot of time with them.”

  So Luna (who was good at memorizing) had matched up an adjective to the name of every girl who bunked in Sleepy Hollow. First came Know-It-All Pam, the counselor. Then Chunky Penelope. Then there was a red-haired girl, Ella, whom Claire had warned her was a jerk. (Jerk Ella, the red-haired girl.) Next was Nature-Girl Gladriole, or “Glad,” who had waist-length bumpy hair and was a vegetarian. Then Laughing Min Suh, because she had a really loud, happy laugh that made everyone else crack up just to hear it. And Expensive Haley, who wore a ladylike gold watch and gold hoop earrings and had mentioned her vacation house in Bermuda three times already. And then there was Lakshmi, who was gorgeous, with perfect teeth and a silky black ponytail and even a little cleft in her chin. Luna was a big fan of clefts in people’s chins.

  Gorgeous Lakshmi.

  Now Luna revised her list. Gorgeous Lakshmi, Who Hates Me.

  Luna pushed herself closer to the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was scared to be hissed at or kicked again. But just as she was about to fall asleep, she imagined that she was dropping off the side of the mountain, and (in spite of herself) she must have let out a very loud moan-mutter.

  Below, Lakshmi gave a fed-up noise and muttered something herself. Something mean, Luna bet.

  The next morning, Luna climbed down from her bunk, too humiliated to look at Lakshmi. She felt too shy even to apologize for keeping her awake. At breakfast, she watched out of the corner of her eye, ready to duck if Lakshmi decided to confront her. Which she probably would. Luna could sense that while Lakshmi was a quiet type, she was not meek. And while she kept to herself, Lakshmi didn’t seem lonely. In fact, Lakshmi didn’t seem to want to be at Camp Bliss at all.

  Luna avoided Lakshmi until after breakfast. As soon as Claire got up from the table, Luna followed to sidle up behind her twin.

  “You know that girl, Lakshmi? She hates me,” she whispered.

  “Lakshmi who?” Cl
aire looked around.

  “Lakshmi the Gorgeous Indian Girl. Don’t look.”

  “Oh.” Since Lakshmi was the only Indian girl at camp, Claire looked straight at her. Lakshmi stared straight back.

  “Hi.” Claire waved.

  “Which one of you kept me up all night with your stomachache?” Lakshmi asked in her loud voice. “If you do it again tonight, I’m asking for a bed switch. No offense, but I need my sleep.” She yawned.

  “My sister has top-bunk sickness. She was scared to be up so high.’”

  “I was dizzy. Not scared,” Luna corrected.

  “Oh.” Lakshmi gave Luna a quick once-over, then turned her attention back to Claire.

  “My sister’s really good at drawing, though,” Claire said. “She drew a picture of our kittens, and it was so cute.”

  “Uh, okay.” Lakshmi shrugged.

  “I’m Claire,” Claire continued. “And if you really want to tell us apart, Luna’s got a teensy little chicken-pox scar under her chin. See?”

  Lakshmi squinted, then saw. “You shouldn’t have scratched,” she said.

  How terrible, Luna thought, to have an ugly chicken-pox chin and be lectured to by a girl with a gorgeous cleft chin! She stared down at her feet and rubbed her finger over her scar and said nothing.

  “Watch this,” said Claire. She jumped out of line, stretched into a handstand, and walked on her hands.

  “Hey, that’s pretty expert,” said Lakshmi.

  “You’re from Los Angeles, right?” asked Claire when she came right side up again.

  “Yeah,” said Lakshmi. “I took a plane here. Five hours, all by myself.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oops! I’ve got to go to the office to call my dad and let him know I’m safe. I was supposed to do that yesterday.”

  “Put your tray on mine,” said Claire, reaching for it. “I’ll dump it for you.”

  Lakshmi handed over her tray. “Thanks! See you later.”

  Claire waved. “Bye.” Lakshmi jogged off.

  “See, Loon? She doesn’t hate you.” Claire smiled confidently. “The way I figure it, every one would always rather be buddies.”

  Luna nodded. It was difficult to explain to her twin that she did not have Claire’s same knack for making friends. Claire thought friends just appeared from nowhere on a sunny day and stuck naturally, like freckles.

  After breakfast, the counselors and cabins scattered for Early Meeting. That was when special announcements were made. Some counselors picked scenic spots by the tennis courts or Lake Periwinkle. Pam picked under a scrawny fir tree by the parking lot.

  “Form a semicircle around me!” shouted Pam. Then she blew into her whistle. Of all the counselors, Pam seemed to be the most excited to use her whistle. She blasted it a lot.

  Luna thought about sitting next to Lakshmi. Everyone would rather be buddies, she reminded herself. She sort of smiled at Lakshmi, who sort of smiled back. Chunky Penelope would be easier to sit next to, Luna thought. Penelope was so shy, and she looked like a girl who would be grateful for a buddy. Gorgeous Lakshmi would not be grateful. Luna could tell just by the way she was flopped at the edge of the grass, her ankles crossed, leaning back on her elbows and not noticing anybody.

  Luna sat down next to Penelope.

  “Hi,” she said. Penelope smiled gratefully.

  Pam blew into her whistle again. “Listen up, sports fans!” she said. “As you know, for the next five weeks, I run Sleepy Hollow. And this summer, as a senior counselor, I’ve decided to implement a new policy.”

  Luna gave Claire a thumbs-up, since implement was the word that Claire had won the fifth-grade spelling bee with this past spring. Claire was nuts about words. Claire gave a thumbs-up back.

  “Twins!” shouted Pam, with a chirp on the whistle. “Please don’t send each other cutesy hand signals while I’m talking. Understood?”

  They nodded solemnly. Pam continued. “Here’s my policy. We’re going to pool our resources. That means each person has to donate to the Sleepy Hollow Cabin Fund. A certain something you brought from home that will be used by the whole cabin. Nothing big. I’m talking about a bottle of hand lotion, a sun visor, or maybe some homemade brownies your parents packed. Stuff like that. It’s a great way for everyone to share! So check your trunks, your bags, or maybe even your pockets for something useful.”

  Pam unfolded a white pillowcase that she had been carrying. “I’m leaving this pillowcase by the door of our cabin. Let’s have nine donations in it by lunch. I’ll go first.” She took a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. “This is my spare pair, with UV-ray protection. For the next five weeks, anyone can use them.” She dropped the sunglasses into the pillowcase. “Who’s next?”

  There was a silence.

  Then a voice rang out, loud and stubborn. “No way.”

  The voice belonged to Lakshmi. Heads turned. Lakshmi brushed the grass from her hands. She was not smiling.

  “Excuse me?” Pam fumbled at her whistle, although it was not exactly a whistle-blowing moment.

  “I’m not donating to your pillowcase fund. All my stuff belongs to me.”

  There was a stirring of whispers. Luna let out a breath of relief. She didn’t want to donate any of her things, either. She was a careful person, and she knew she had not packed anything for Camp Bliss that she wanted to share.

  Pam smiled, but she looked annoyed. “Wow, Lakshmi, you’re a party poop,” she said in a falsely cheerful voice. “Anyone else want to be a party poop? Speak up, people!”

  Silence.

  Luna watched Pam, enjoying the look on her face, which was bright red and a touch scared. Maybe she was just starting to realize what a stupid idea this pillowcase fund was. Forcing people to share! As the silence lengthened, Luna bit her lip to hold back her smile.

  “I have a box of saltwater taffy, and I hate saltwater taffy.” Ella spoke up. “My mom put it in my trunk instead of my brother’s by mistake.” She shrugged. “I’ll donate that.”

  “Aaawwl right! Now we’re talking!” Pam whooped.

  A couple of girls clapped.

  “I’ve got a family-size tin of echinacea mints,” said Claire. “They ward off respiratory diseases and they taste great, too!”

  She said the last part in a goofy voice, and the girls laughed.

  “I’ve got three bottles of sunscreen. My family always uses it when we go to our house in Bermuda,” said Haley. “It’s made with jojoba and hazelnut extract. It doesn’t give you that greasy feel.”

  Luna looked over appreciatively. She hated-hated-hated her greasy sunscreen.

  Penelope offered her radio with headset.

  Min Suh donated the use of her special tennis racket, the same kind used by Venus Williams.

  “I already have a way-nice tennis racket,” said Haley. “How does that work for me?”

  “It’s a totally awesome donation!” said Pam. But Min Suh looked worried.

  “What about my coconut shampoo?” she offered.

  There was a show of hands. The tennis racket won over the shampoo.

  Glad offered free foot massages.

  “That’s not really a donation,” said Pam. “That’s more like a service.”

  So Glad offered her fruit-leather snacks. “Made with no processed sugar and lots of love,” she declared, and Luna got the feeling that everyone wanted the foot massages back.

  Which left Luna and Lakshmi.

  “Let me think about it,” said Luna. “I can’t figure it out right this second.”

  “Like I said, I’m donating nothing,” said Lakshmi in her customary calm, loud voice.

  “Then you’re using nothing, okay?” Pam said. “It’s not your fund if you don’t contribute.” Her face wore the relaxed, ear-to-ear grin of victory.

  Lakshmi shrugged. She seemed completely unconcerned.

  “Gosh, why does she have to be such a party poop?” murmured Penelope. Other girls looked over at Lakshmi reproachfully.

  Lakshmi stoo
d her ground. She did not seem to care a fig what people thought of her. Luna liked that, and she wished she had sat next to Lakshmi, after all. Then they would have been a team against Pam. A resistance.

  After the meeting, when they were walking down to the field house to pick bikes for a morning ride, Luna screwed up her courage. She fell into step beside Lakshmi.

  “I don’t want to give anything to the Cabin Fund, either,” she said.

  “Luckily, it’s optional,” said Lakshmi.

  “I feel really out of place here,” Luna said, clearing her throat.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Lakshmi stopped walking. “Why do you say that? Because I’m the only one here who’s Indian American?” she asked. Not in a mean way, but her voice was loud.

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Luna said hastily. Her face felt hot.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  Luna had no idea what to answer. “I just meant … I don’t know,” she squeaked. “See ya later.” She stumbled ahead, feeling stupid and hoping that Penelope would be around somewhere.

  It was too horrible. Her one chance to be buddies, maybe even to make an all-weather friend, and she’d blown it.

  A Personal History by Adele Griffin

  I was born in 1970 in my mother’s hometown of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I was the oldest of three children, and spent my early childhood as a “military brat,” moving between bases in North Carolina, California, Panama, and Rhode Island. I returned to Pennsylvania for high school, and then attended college at the University of Pennsylvania. After earning a bachelor of arts and sciences degree in 1993, I eagerly answered a “help wanted” ad in the New York Times and an “apartment rentals” ad in the Village Voice. That same week, I secured both my first job and my first apartment. I began working for Macmillan Children’s Books as an editorial assistant; living two blocks away from the office ensured that I didn’t get lost on my commute.

  While balancing days working in the editorial department with nights writing fiction, I discovered my abiding love of New York City, and knew that I would want to live there for the long haul. At Macmillan, and later Hyperion Books for Children, I read old favorites and new favorite fiction for younger readers, and in doing so rediscovered classic stories that had been so riveting in my youth. I was particularly enthralled to connect with Robert Cormier, an author whose work I idolized when I was a child—years later, I got to spend a day with him at Simmons College. It wasn’t long before I completed my first novel, Rainy Season (1996), which was accepted by Houghton Mifflin & Co. A semi-autobiographical account of family life on an army base in Panama, the book was recommended by Publishers Weekly as a “Flying Start” notable debut. My second book, Split Just Right (1997), told the story of a bohemian single mother raising her daughter. My third book, Sons of Liberty, a drama set in New England that addressed child abuse, was nominated for the National Book Award in 1997. I followed this novel with a contemporary supernatural story, The Other Shepards (1998), and then Dive (1999), a novel that grappled with the real-life unexpected death of my stepbrother, Jason.