CHAPTER 11

  Trinity twirled my wheelchair around, saying, “You’re the first Falcon to check in. How about we get ourselves a little pre-lunch snack, and I’ll tell you more about the camp. Sound okay to you?”

  At my nod, Trinity rolled my chair to the kitchen, trying to guess my favorite slushy flavor along the way. Nope, not grape—not lime, either! She dug around in a freezer for a minute, then pulled out two. “Cherry or orange?” she asked. I pointed to the cherry one, and she made a silly face. “How did you know that’s the one I wanted?” That made me laugh.

  Trinity draped a towel she pulled out of her backpack around my neck as we slurped our slushies. Okay, so it was weird having this strange woman spoon cool cherry ice into my mouth. I HATE having to be fed, but gee, that slushy was good.

  We ate in a grassy area in front of a row of cabins, tall pines swaying in the distance. Other campers were checking in. Some kids with walkers and fancy motorized wheelchairs. Others on crutches, and some walking with no apparent devices at all. A few cried. Some had carloads of family members hovering near them. Others had only one adult holding a hand or pushing a chair. And nearly everyone looked wide-eyed and wary—I bet I looked exactly the same.

  As a passing counselor-looking person stopped by to say, “Hey” to Trinity, I snuck a better look at her. Her hair, dyed a reddish-brown, was styled in intricate box braids, long and flowing. They were twisted to perfection—it must have taken hours. And her perfume was awesome—was that jasmine and hibiscus?

  Her makeup—eyes and lashes and lips—looked like it had been professionally done. Who gets fancy makeup done for camp? Hmm. Maybe she could teach me a couple of things. I don’t think it’s ever occurred to Mom that I might be interested in lipstick or eyeliner, although Penny got a pretend makeup kit for her birthday. Candy-flavored lip gloss and lavender sparkle eye dust. When she’d unwrapped it with an ooh, I’d wondered why I’d never been given anything like that. I’d love to sprinkle on a little flowery-scented cologne some mornings.

  Trinity told her friend she would see her later and turned back to me. “Here’s the deal, Melody. I want you to understand that I am your counselor. Only you. We have a one-on-one policy here at Camp Green Glades. So I am here for you one hundred percent.”

  I tried to keep my nose from crinkling. “Every single second?” I tapped.

  “Absolutely!” she replied. “Our pledge is to keep you safe and secure while you are here.”

  She probably thought that would make me feel comforted. My mom would be glad to know that, but… every single second? No free time at all? Yikes.

  Trinity continued, “Here’s the basic cabin setup. Like I said earlier, there are four girls on our cabin. And four counselors. We, the Fiery Falcons—” She paused. “I know, I know—goofy name. But all the teams have silly names, and T-shirts,” she added, “just to make it more fun.”

  I wasn’t really getting how that was fun, but I was paying attention.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “cabins are grouped into teams. Two cabins of girls, two cabins of boys. Sixteen kids in total, per team, plus the same number of counselors. Our team includes us and the Green Gazelles for the girls, and the Blue Badgers and the Purple Panthers for the guys. But of course we think the Falcons are the finest!”

  I managed a small smile.

  “The boys’ cabins are across the road, and our team shares a number of activities and meals together.”

  My face must have looked like a question mark, because she quickly added, “Showers and bathroom stuff, are, of course, in two separate buildings.”

  That’s a relief!

  “Even though this place is huge, with lots of ‘teams’ dotted through the campground, we keep each team small—partly for safety, and partly so we can really get to know each other.”

  I didn’t tap anything on my board, just let her talk, taking it all in.

  “I promise to take very good care of you. I’ll be with you for every game you choose to play, every meal you eat, and every activity you decide to try. And remember, there’s not one moment when any of you will be alone.”

  Not one moment?? That seemed a little intense; even Mom wasn’t with me 24/7! I made a face, but I don’t think she noticed.

  She paused. “And if you decide to do nothing at all, I’ll sit next to you and do that, too!” I looked at her with genuine surprise. Did she really mean that I could sit around doing nothing and get away with it? So I asked her.

  She gave me a sideways glance and grinned. “Yep. Nothing is cool. Boring… but cool, nevertheless.”

  I responded with what I hoped looked like a smirk.

  “I’ll be with you for your swimming lessons….”

  And yeah, even though I’d read about it in the brochure, the idea of me swimming was pretty scary.

  “I won’t leave your side,” Trinity continued. “Basically”—and now she laughed—“you can’t get rid of me!” She paused and gave me her full attention. Then she said, “So, did I hit all your questions? Did I miss anything?”

  I tapped on Elvira. “What about the horses?” My hand went extra shaky, so it took a while to tap it out.

  “You want the honest truth?” she asked. I braced myself.

  But all she said was: “You’re gonna love it. The horses are specifically trained, and they are ridiculously gentle. I guarantee this will be your favorite activity.”

  From my point of view, the words ridiculous and gentle somehow don’t go together. But before I could tap anything, she was saying, “And once you feel the magic and power of a horse, you’ll never be the same.”

  Okay, Trinity wasn’t half-bad. But she was gonna lose that horse bet, for sure.

  She then rattled off info about meals (they were delicious), activities (lots), and safety protocols (double lots), and finally said, “However, missy, now is not the time to do nothing. Let’s go get unpacked.”

  I gave her a nod of agreement.

  “This way, Fiery Falcon,” she said with a flourish, sending the dozen or so bronze and gold-colored bracelets on her arms clinking like wind chimes. Okay, another plus for Trinity—she knew her bracelets!

  CHAPTER 12

  Trinity likes earrings, too. As we unpacked my stuff, she carefully unwrapped a small box wrapped in tissue paper. Mom had tucked in three pairs of tiny earrings—teeny butterflies, red rhinestones, and golden dots. After oohing over each, Trinity showed me her own collection—hoops and loops and one set that perfectly matched her bracelets.

  “Wanna wear a pair today?” she asked me, holding them out.

  “Sure!” I tapped. I chose the butterflies and she popped them in.

  We’d barely finished putting my stuff away in an overhead compartment when the three other girls assigned to our cabin arrived all at once, along with three more counselors.

  The first girl, wearing a pair of really cute pink-framed glasses and a T-shirt the color of strawberry ice cream, bounced in, grinning hugely. It was impossible not to smile back.

  Next came a girl in a neon-green wheelchair. She had a stony look on her face, and her arms were crossed. I couldn’t tell whether she looked scared or angry. She had on unscuffed brand-new shoes.

  The third girl walked in on her own power like the first girl had—no wheelchair or walker or obvious special equipment—but she didn’t say a word and made no eye contact with anyone, just plopped down in a chair and began picking at her fingernails.

  The room was huge, but with two wheelchairs and four stuffed duffel bags, plus the counselors’ luggage and four bunk beds, the cabin felt full, crowded—almost like a house with a family.

  An iPad, cranked up high, was playing Bob Marley’s “One Love.”

  Trinity greeted everyone with a hello and then declared, “Cabin Chat! Cabin Chat! Let’s make a circle, Falcons.”

  The other girls froze. The music went silent. What’s a cabin chat?

  I rolled myself over to the center of the room, trying not to look too obviously at the two girls who looked as uneasy as I felt, the girl with pink glasses beaming at us all. Okay, it was totally awkward. But I was curious, too.

  Trinity flung her arms out wide. “Welcome, Fiery Falcons! I am so excited to be here with you today, our first day at Camp Green Glades!” she exclaimed. “This is going to be home for the next week, and we want you to feel one hundred percent comfortable here. So again, welcome, welcome, welcome, to our four Fiery Falcons!”

  The other three counselors, wearing T-shirts identical to Trinity’s, made whoot, whoot, whoot noises, like we were at a football game or something, then broke into: “Falcons! Falcons!” The other three girls stayed silent. One was peering at me, one had slid down onto the floor and wouldn’t look up, and the girl dressed in all pink was bobbing up and down on her toes. Their eyes darted around the room, observing everything. It was clear none of us was sure what we should do yet.

  I guess they were like me—a little scared, a little curious, a little I don’t know these people! At the same time, I knew that these girls, like me, had been to countless doctors’ appointments, and specialist consultations, and probably physical therapy and occupational therapy sessions. They were no doubt real familiar with schools where we either sat in the back of a class full of kids without disabilities, or in a room designed for us, with ramps and pull-up bars and security straps to make sure we didn’t fall. Some of us would have to be fed. Most of us would need a little extra help in the bathroom.

  Yep, even though I didn’t know these girls, I kinda knew them. Which meant they kinda knew me as well. Huh.

  Right on cue, Trinity said, “Time for introductions. We’ll start with the counselors. I’m Trinity. I was born on the island of Jamaica, and I grew up in a neighborhood in New York called Jamaica. How cool is that? I’m really glad to be here with you, and I’m here to help you with anything you need.” Then she waved her arm toward me, bracelets jangling. “And now I’d like to introduce my camp buddy for the week. Would you like to say something, Melody?”

  What? I thought the counselors were going first! I hadn’t planned on that. Why did I have to go first? I tried to keep my face from frowning—not sure if it was working. Then I told myself to get over it.

  So I tapped out, “My name is Melody. This is my first time at any camp. I’m a little bit scared, and a big bit excited.” It took a little while to tap all that, but they were all surprisingly patient. I looked up as Elvira repeated my words in her mildly mechanical voice.

  The girl in the sharp green wheelchair muttered, “I’m a little scared too. I’m not sure I like it here.” I glanced over and she gave me a small nod. I smiled back, I hoped encouragingly.

  Her counselor squatted beside her. “I completely understand. But let us show you around, try out a few activities, okay?”

  The girl’s chin trembled, but she didn’t say no.

  Her counselor introduced herself next. She was short and muscular and had reddish-orange hair and a face full of freckles. “Hey, everybody! I’m Kim, and I’m from Kalamazoo, Michigan. And you guessed it,” she said with a laugh, “my favorite letter of the alphabet is K! My mom is deaf and my dad is not, so I grew up knowing both spoken as well as sign language. And this lovely lady in the snappy green wheelchair”—she nodded to the girl beside her—“is my camper friend Karyn, spelled with a K, of course!”

  Karyn, the girl who was ready to get out of here, managed a smile and a wave. Her wheelchair was really cool—the frame sparkled. She didn’t look like she had cerebral palsy like me, but it was clear she wasn’t gonna walk out of here on her own steam.

  “Hi, I’m Karyn with a K”—flashing a shy smile at Kim—“and I’m eleven and three quarters. I’ve never been to camp before.” She paused, then said in a rush, “The upstairs part of my body works fine. The downstairs part—not so much. They call it spina bifida. I call it a pain in the butt. And I really think I want to go home. Can somebody call my mom?”

  The other two girls’ eyes went wide, but Kim, all calm, simply said, “I totally get it. Let’s just wait until later this afternoon to call her, okay? We’ve got lunch and swimming coming up. How about we call her after that?”

  Karyn said okay, but she didn’t look happy.

  The next counselor quickly jumped in. “Hello, fellow Falcons! My name is Sage. And this is just my second time here at camp. I like to fix computers and play online games when I’m not camping in the fresh air. And I love music!”

  That drew some claps. I was thinking, Oh, good. Some music kids here.

  Sage, who was lanky and totally toned, went on. “I guess my claim to fame is that I once tried out for the Olympics. Swimming; my specialty was breaststroke and back stroke.”

  “Ooh! Tell us more about that!” Kim said.

  “Well, to be honest, I didn’t make the team,” Sage said with a shrug. “I wasn’t fast enough. The girls who made the team were like sharks. I was more like a sea turtle, comparatively.” She let out a laugh. “But then I was hired to help them train, and I cheered them on, and when one of the girls from my hometown won a bronze medal, man, was I proud!”

  Hmm, I never thought about that—you almost never hear about the folks who didn’t make the team. Sportscasters aren’t ever interviewing them. And yet, without someone like Sage, the Olympians might not be able to get where they get. Interesting!

  “Introduce me! Introduce me!” the girl wearing the cool pink glasses piped up.

  Sage grinned at her. “You betcha! And sitting next to me, with the glossy black hair and infectious smile, is Athena! On the walk over here, she told me she wants to be an artist. She’s going to love Messy Paint Day!”

  Athena popped up and took several bows. She was seriously into pink, even neon-pink leggings. She had the best grin, and she seemed ecstatic to be here.

  “I am Athena,” she announced, “and I am royalty. I love the color pink. I have probably twenty Barbie princess dolls at home. I don’t play with them—I’m too old for that—I collect and display them. They like pink too!”

  She bowed again and added a curtsy before sitting down. Then she popped back up again, reached over to her duffel bag, and pulled something from the top.

  “I forgot to tell you!” she said, hugging a well-worn woven pink blanket. “This is Blankie. Blankie sleeps with me and keeps me warm.”

  She bowed once more and sat down, but then, a second later, was up again. “And oh, I forgot to tell you—I love horses way more than even Barbies.”

  Then she bowed one last time, sat down, and stayed down. So we clapped at last.

  I already liked Athena—I hoped she’d like me. I think Athena might have Down syndrome, but I’m no expert.

  “Well, Athena,” Sage said. “I’m pretty sure you’ll get to ride a horse while we’re here!”

  Athena hugged herself. “Yay!”

  The last counselor wore a backward baseball cap and some sleek purple Doc Martens. She must have been at least six feet tall.

  “Hi, I’m Lulu. I was this tall by the time I was in the eighth grade. But my mom taught me to be proud of my height and ignore what other kids might say. So that’s what I did. I’ve got serious basketball skills, and, believe it or not, ballet!”

  I imagined her leaping for the basket doing a jeté, and grinned.

  Lulu then swung her arm toward the girl sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  “This here is my camper buddy, Jocelyn. She just turned twelve, and she sometimes likes to keep to herself, but hey, that’s true for all of us, right?”

  Jocelyn seemed much more interested on tracing the pattern of curves of the wood grain with her finger than in meeting us.

  But just as Lulu finished, Jocelyn tilted her head. “So we just gonna sit here all day? Let’s get this party started! Started. Started.” And she popped up.

  All right, then! Everybody laughed.

  “We’ve got twenty minutes till lunch—let’s go check out the lake,” Trinity suggested. “It’s just sitting there, waiting to say hello.” She grabbed the camera hanging on a peg by the door and strapped it around her neck, and we headed out into the sunlight.

  CHAPTER 13

  So, my cabinmates didn’t seem so bad, and the cabin was just like the one on the website, so I was trying to find something awful, something to complain about, but the weather wasn’t going to be it either—at least not today. The air was soft, with the breeze barely a breath on my skin. Sunlight trickled through the leaves of the trees overhead, making design shadows on my arms. I had an urge to paint the pattern, it was so pretty. Not that I’ve ever painted, but I can in my mind. And thinking of that made me realize that I hadn’t even thought about being nervous since we set out for the lake. I looked back for Karyn, wondering how she was feeling.

  The path was dusty and covered over with boards—to make it easier for wheelchairs, I guess, though mine was doing plenty of bumping. But the boards kept the dust out of the chairs’ gears. Points for that, Green Glades. As we rolled along, I didn’t think I’d ever seen so many shades of green. Must be how the camp got its name. I mean, yeah, we have trees and plants at home, but this was a whole other level. How many shades of green were there in the world? I think I was looking at them all!

  As tree limbs swayed, they created their own breeze, cooling us as we headed down the path, which was taking forev—ooh! Ohhhh! If I could stop short, I would have stopped short. Because, wow.

  “Campers, I have another introduction,” Trinity exclaimed. “Meet Lilliana. Lake Lilliana!” She grinned like she was introducing her best friend. But I didn’t blame her. The lake was pretty big; I could barely see to the other side. And it was the most gorgeous shade of blue. I’d sort of assumed the website had photoshopped the color—it seemed impossible. But nope. It was the exact same, the prettiest blue I’d ever seen. Actually, it wasn’t just one blue; it shifted from teal, to navy, to turquoise, even to green. The sky above was another expanse of blue—cornflower broken up by feathered white clouds. I wished again I could paint—I’d have a ball with the blues in my palette.