A Parthan Summer - Julie Steimle (large ebook reader TXT) 📗

on the lawn were canceled. Canoeing was canceled. And all hikes were canceled. Because of that, pranks were the new sport—after all, there was only so much a person could do in the craft cabin and in the lodge.

It started with a boy from Billsburg high. He had put mayonnaise in the donuts in Monday’s evening treat. Then someone put flour on the lodge ceiling fans, so when they got turned on it snowed everywhere. Someone else rigged a few bottles of two liter colas so that a couple Mentos fell into the liquid when the cap was opened—causing the soda to explode. A few people rigged buckets of water over cracked-open doorways, and a few more loosened all the lower lightbulbs in the lodge and several of the cabins, both on the girls’ and boys’ sides.

By Wednesday afternoon, the cabin counselors had decided to ground the entire camp to the cabins, each counselor standing at the door, or just inside—which everyone thought was a big mistake. After all, most of the pranks happened at mealtime anyway. In fact, at dinner, a ketchup bottle exploded, spraying everyone within twenty yards of the bottle spout. Someone had dumped baking soda in it and had passed it on to an unsuspecting person who, naturally, shook it to get the ketchup to the spout.

So, Thursday, Miss Betiford ended up sitting just outside the door under the lip of the cabin porch reading a novel, bored out of her mind. And the girls inside were going stir-crazy.

 Zormna stared out the window through the mesh screen, leaning on her elbow. Her dislike for rain had increased that week. Normally, rain falling just seemed like a waste of water. But that week the very planet seemed to spill over the camp. She had never seen so much water. She was also starting to really hate the song Raindrops Keep Falling On my Head and planned to smother Joy as if she sang another verse.

Joy smiled and cocked her head, opening her mouth. “One more time! Oh… Raindrops keep falling on my head, just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed! Nothing seems to fit! Oh…”

“Shut up!” shouted Michelle from her cot, throwing a crumpled sheet of paper at her.

Joy dodged the paper wad and kept on singing. “Raindrops are falling on my head. They keep falling!” 

Michelle pelted her with another paper, and Stacey joined in. 

Joy only laughed and sang. “So I did some talking to the sun….”

Zormna buried her head against her cot, covering it with her pillow, groaning. Why did Joy have to be like this?

Jennifer stepped up to Joy and grabbed her by her arms, seriously staring into Joy’s giddy face.  “Isn’t there some other song you can sing?”

Joy smiled, replying, “Sure! —It’s raining! It’s pouring! The old man is snoring….”

“Shut up!” Michelle yelled again, tossing the entire pad at Joy and Jennifer in frustration. 

Joy only laughed harder.

Sitting up from her bed, Zormna covered her ears and glared at her friend. “Do you have to sing?”

Joy smiled cheerfully and nodded. “Yes! I love rain! Man, when I lived in Washington there would be these storms—”

Michelle threw her pencil at Joy then scrambled for her shoes to throw at her also. “I don’t want to hear about Washington! I don’t want to hear about rain! You have talked incessantly about rain this whole week! It is now Friday, and I’m not getting my tan!”

Joy smiled apologetically and cleared her throat. “Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day. Little—”

Joy could hardly finish her song. As soon as she started singing, Zormna jumped to her feet, grabbed Joy by her arms and shoved her out the cabin door, slamming the door behind her and locking it.

Joy stood in the rain for a moment. Blinking back the drips that ran down her forehead and into her eyes with a glance to Miss Betiford, she weakly chuckled. Yet, loudly, and in a robust happy voice, she sang, “I’m singing in the rain! Just singing in the rain! What a glor….”

Zormna tromped over to each of the wooden shutters and closed them until Joy’s voice barely echoed through the wood. Glaring at it when done, Zormna threw herself back down on her cot and covered her head with a pillow, though it was amid claps and cheers from her fellow cabin-mates.

Michelle smiled and walked over to where her notepad lay on the ground also picking up her pencil and pens. She whispered to Zormna as she walked back to her cot, “You go, girl.” And handed her packaged brownie.

Zormna laughed to herself. It wasn’t the worst thing she had done all week after all, and she knew Joy was such a good sport, it didn’t matter. But putting the flour on the fans had been fun—especially with how sneaky they had to be. But the ketchup bottle prank was her favorite. And Jennifer McCabe winked at her, as they had something really great planned for dinner that night.

*

The following Saturday morning, Zormna awoke and lay in her cot, blinking her eyes. She blinked again as she realized that the rhythmic patter of rain had ceased. She could hear birds singing in the wet pines. Their bright melodies twittered amongst the needles and spread across the valley. It was a sunny day.

Zormna quickly sat up, flung off her sleeping bag then ran to the screen window, peering out and smelling the air. The cool morning air had no traces of wetness or wind. She smiled.

Thursday’s prank had been executed perfectly. As usual, no one had figured out who had done it. Or how it had been done. But she had rigged sound system so that when people spoke in the microphone their voice sounded like a chipmunk. Everybody thought it was the funniest laugh yet. On Friday, it was still broken. It was probably still not fixed—and to be honest, nobody really wanted it to get fixed. It was too hilarious listening to Mr. Hart sound so ridiculous.

She ran back to her cot, hastily slipping her shorts on underneath her nightgown and pulling her bra inside her sleeve, hooking the back carefully under the cloth. Peeking about to make sure the others were still sleeping, she slipped off her top and pulled on a tee shirt, tucking it in her shorts. Taking her medallion, which had moved to the back of her neck in the night, she pulled it back to the front and tucked the metal disk into her bra. Carefully, she clipped the fiber necklace to her bra straps then checked for an indication that it peeked out. Satisfied, Zormna dug out her socks and shoes to slip them on. Within seconds she was out the door.

Zormna stared at the blue sky with a broad smile.

“First one up?” a voice from behind said.

Zormna stumbled back and saw Holly Joyce walking down the hill in her karate suit.

“You’re plotting some prank I suppose, now that the sun is out and your precious hair won’t get wet,” Holly said, walking further down the hill and stopping next to her. 

Zormna scowled.

“I happen to be enjoying the sunshine, and you are spoiling it,” Zormna snapped back rather rudely. She proceeded down the hill with a jerk, heading to the grassy knoll to look out over the lake. Holly spitefully followed her.

“Oh no. Pious and mighty Zormna is enjoying the sun. How dare anyone else exist,” Holly said in a dramatic mocking tone.

Zormna stopped. “I never said or insinuated that others could not exist. I would simply prefer that you did it away from me.”

She continued on her march, hurrying her pace. Holly kept up with her, walking quicker also as if in a race.

“Well, you happen to be going where I’m going,” Holly said.

Zormna stopped. “And where is that?”

Holly sneered, putting her hands on her hips. “I don’t have to tell you.”

Zormna opened her mouth and huffed. “And you think I’m being unreasonable,” she said. Then more sharply, Zormna snapped, “Listen. If we are simply heading in the same direction by coincidence, then just tell me where you are going so I can go someplace else. Okay?”

Holly scowled. Turning her head away from the Pennington girl, she said, “I’m going to the lake.”

Zormna frowned with a glance at the cloudless sky. She had so hoped to skip rocks and think for a while alone—but Holly refused to be pleasant.

Deciding, Zormna said, “Fine. I’m going to the lodge.”

Holly watched Zormna walk away, actually looking surprise. She clearly had not believed that the pale blonde girl had really meant to be alone. Holly had been sure Zormna was up to mischief.

*

The Pennington wrestling team had KP that morning. So Jeff and his cabin mates woke early and scrambled to the lodge. They had to set up the lodge alone since the counselors slept in, as did the director. So only they and the cooks were up.

 Jeff and Mark pulled the tables out and arranged them in proper order, matching them to the numbers painted on the concrete, while the others were unfolding them or getting the benches. As Mark dragged the table across the concrete floor, clenching the edge for a good grip, he noticed a funny bump under the wood rim. Curious, he bent down to peer underneath it.

Calling out, Mark waved over to his friend. “Jeff, c’mere.”

Jeff walked down from the other end of the table and crouched beside Mark, looking where he was looking. “What is it?”

Mark pointed to a small dark circular thing on the underside of the table. “Now if this were a movie or a television show, I’d say this thing was a bug. But in reality it could just be a screw that leads to… nowhere. What do you think? Am I being paranoid?”

Jeff peered at it. It was about as big as a tortoise shell shaped thumbtack, except he could see holes in it. Squinting one eye to adjust perception then glancing at his friend, Jeff replied, “There is one way to find out.” 

Leaning into the piece, Jeff motioned for his friend to move in closer.

Silently lifting fingers on the count of three, both boys opened their mouths. “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Immediately, from the kitchen, they heard a bang then a crash of pots striking the wall and the floor, clattering down as one man cursed loud. The head of the new cook’s helper popped up from over the serving window to the cafeteria. Panting, he stared out at who was yelling. One earbud dangled out from under his shirt.

Seeing him, Jeff and Mark burst out laughing. Holding their sides, their eyes watered from the corners of their eyes.

“What is all that racket?” the sloppy-looking man called out, sticking a pinky finger into his ear. He wasn’t doing a very good job of masking the proximity the noise had on him.

Jeff smiled triumphantly back at Mark. “Yep, you were right!” 

Mark continued to laugh, wiping his eyes.

The assistant cook flushed, though he pretended that he didn’t know what either boy was talking about. 

“There is work to be done. Chop! Chop!” The man barked at them, striking the side of his hand to his palm. 

Jeff and Mark stood up from the floor, still trying to control their laughter.

“Now why would anyone come to this camp and bug it?” Mark asked, still chuckling to himself. He shook his head with a glance at the cook’s helper who looked upset that they weren’t responding to him.

Jeff patted his friend on the back, assuring him of the known facts. “Zormna.”

“Oh…!” Mark nodded to himself with a scrutinizing look at the new cook’s helper. “That’s right. The FBI is following her.”

Jeff smirked and nodded.

“You know about that?” The cook blinked again, as he forgot to act for a minute.

Mark continued laughing to the cook’s face, though he walked with Jeff to get more tables. Thinking excitedly, he cried out, “Hey! Let’s see if we can find some more bugs!”

A mischievous look in his eye, Jeff hopped up in