As we finished, Trinity reminded us that we had art next. Sounded cool. I’ve always liked to look at art. Dad’s taken me to the art museum several times—I love it. There are zillions of pictures of pale European ladies, who, frankly, looked to me like they were bored out of their minds. I felt sorry for them—all dressed up in really uncomfortable-looking high-necked dresses, sipping tea or gazing out a window.

  What I really like is the modern art wing, where a purple-edged square can be a political statement, or a glop of chartreuse is supposed to represent birds in flight. Dad always makes up crazy stories about the paintings to explain what the painter was thinking of when he or she decided to draw that truck or that bird or that baby.

  I thought back to the patterns the trees made, the palette of blue making up the lake. Hey, maybe this was actually a chance to make the paintings I saw in my mind—at least with color! We headed over to what Trinity called the art department, which turned out to be a wide, sunny barn filled with tables that were splashed and speckled with multiple layers of every possible color.

  “Sorry, not sorry about the mess,” Trinity announced as we looked around. “But great art sometimes emerges from incredible chaos. And you can’t mess up here. Whatever you create is yours, and if you create it, it’s art!”

  Our counselors cut necks and armholes out of the sides and bottoms of massive green garbage bags and slid them over our heads.

  So, my fashion statement for the afternoon is a giant green plastic trash bag! Look out, Seventeen, I am your next cover model, for sure! Don’t know why I even worried about choosing the exact right earrings this morning… do butterflies go with garbage bags? NOT!

  Karyn wheeled herself back and forth in front of us. She turned, posed; turned, posed. “I’m wearing a one-of-a-kind outfit from a brand-new designer—La Green Glades,” she cooed, pretending to pout in front of cameras. “Okay, please, please, no more photographs!”

  I typed, “I’d like to order two, please! But you gotta find some sleeker styles.” Athena, catching on, said, “I want four!” Even Jocelyn chimed in: “Three, three, three for me!” We all cracked up. The counselors just shook their heads, laughing. Kim motioned for us to pull up to a table, then brought over a stack of poster board.

  “Okay, campers,” she said. “How many of you have ever made a massive mess at home or school and kinda got in trouble for it?”

  Athena waved wildly. “Me! Me! Me! I make a mess ALL the time!”

  Jocelyn looked away, but I spied a little smile on her face.

  Karyn said, “I never make a mess.”

  “Yeah, right!” I typed, and we bumped elbows.

  “Well,” Kim said, “I’m giving you permission to make a mess. Actually, I’m encouraging you to be messy. No, let me be more emphatic—I’m requiring you to MAKE A MESS!”

  We looked at her like she was crazy. I was sure none of us had ever been told that before. I thought back to all the times I’d spilled my spaghetti or my juice and how Mom would never actually fuss at me, but she’d sigh a little as she cleaned it up. I always felt bad when that happened. Really bad. And now this lady was telling us to do it on purpose? All right then!

  “Falcons, you have your canvases,” she announced. “There are no rules. Do your thing!”

  Trinity had set up plastic jars of paint all around the table—cherry red and bluebird blue and the purple of real sweet grapes. Jade green and candy yellow. Sage added bright pink for Athena. And double jars of orange, since that was our color!

  “Now go for it,” Trinity told us. “There is no way you can be wrong here. Creation is never neat! Be a messy Matisse! Let the mess begin!!”

  We hesitated. Jocelyn lined up all the jars in a perfectly even row, looked at me, shrugged, then dipped one fingertip into the red paint. Karyn reached for the blue, paused, switched to yellow, paused, then, with a teasing smile, grabbed the pink… but before Athena could begin to protest, Karyn handed it to her in triumph. Athena laughed and laughed. She dipped her entire hand into the pink, and all the walls of hesitation came crashing down.

  Trinity had prepared small paper plates with a big plop of color in each for me. I went for the green first, and I gotta admit—globs of paint felt good! I smooshed my hands into its silkiness. Then I looked at my crocodile-colored fingers, and, because my hands already kinda wobble on their own anyway, I turned to Jocelyn like I was a fierce green dragon. She did the same—one hand red and the other grape-colored—and for the first time since we arrived, she flat-out laughed.

  We crammed our poster board with a kaleidoscope of colors. Jocelyn’s paper began to fill up with different-sized ovals—each one perfectly symmetrical. Then she filled each one with three more perfectly shaped ovals. And then each of those had three. Whoa. I almost couldn’t paint myself because I wanted to see how many ovals she could cram onto her paper.

  As for Athena, she looked like she had bathed in cotton-candy pink paint. There was more paint on her hair than on the paper.

  One of my hands dripped with purple and blue; the other with lime green and a bit of random red. I smooshed them around on the paper, but sometimes I missed the paper completely! I’m not sure what I ended up creating, but it didn’t matter.

  The finished project was a gloppy mess, and so was I, but no one cared, and no one tried to fix or change anything. Splashed in a dozen shades of color, we stopped first at the huge industrial sink in the corner of the room to clean up before leaving. As Trinity ran a wet paper towel over some paint on my forehead, I thought, One day I hope to be able to do stuff like this by myself.

  Paint from my hands mixed with the paint of the other girls, down the drain. Best mess ever!

  CHAPTER 16

  I couldn’t believe how fast the day went. It was already time for dinner. Trinity explained that we’d eat in shifts every day. So I guess half the camp was there. I counted eight other wheelchairs besides Karyn’s and mine. Cool. But the food? This was the most disgusting-looking dinner I’d ever seen! We all stared at our bowls in horror. It was some kind of broccoli mash-up—a deep avocado green—like Penny’s Play-Doh after she’s mixed all the colors together. One purple T-shirted boy at a table across from us made a loud, deliberate, gagging noise, and we all cracked up.

  Athena asked, “Uh, does this come in pink? I think I might be allergic to whatever this is.” That made everybody laugh some more.

  It seemed like no one dared take a first bite. But I was really hungry, so I got my brave on and nodded to Trinity. She held a spoonful out to me. I did a quick survey—other kids were about to be fed too. Okay, then. Let’s see if this broccoli-hooey stuff was as gross as it looked. I swallowed the first bite, and I immediately thought of Mrs. V, who always told me never to judge things by how they look. I hated to admit it, but this stuff was the bomb!

  “What do you think?” Trinity asked.

  “Not bad,” I tapped. Then I gave her a big green smile. “You gotta give this recipe to my mom!” She couldn’t spoon it in fast enough. Even Jocelyn ate it without complaints.

  By the time we finished, the sky was beginning to darken and an uneasiness came over me. What would it be like to sleep in a strange wooden bed? I’ve only ever slept in my own bed—maybe Mrs. V’s a few times. What if I had a bad dream? Dang! What if I had to go to the bathroom? What if I missed my mom and dad and Penny? I felt tears pricking at my eyes. Good thing Mom wasn’t here. She’d whisk me right home!

  But before I had the chance to say anything, Trinity clapped her hands for our attention. “Okay, my Fiery Falcons, are you ready for Fire Time?”

  Fire what? Despite our confusion, our counselors shouted, almost in unison, “Yes! Fire Time!”

  Karyn looked over at me and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I’m outta here! They said try one day. I did. Tomorrow, after swimming, I’m gone.”

  We stopped by our cabin to quickly finish unpacking. Athena had clearly brought the state of Ohio’s entire supply of pink clothes. Jocelyn—yay—was a sneakerhead like me.

  Trinity informed me she had a very fashionable sweatshirt for me. Well, for all of us. She handed out the brightest orange sweatshirts in the universe. Seriously. But we all looked the same, and it was camp, and we were gonna have fun, right? Right. So I let Trinity tug it over my head, and we rolled and bounced and thumped over to the fire pit. It looked pitiful at first. But ha-ha, so did dinner. The fire area was stacked with logs and branches, and others were also rolling or walking up to… whatever this turns out to be!

  Pretty soon the other three cabins in our little team—I could tell by their T-shirt or sweatshirt colors—had made their way over, half of them boys. I’d only seen the boys in passing so far or at meals—their cabins were on the other side of the dirt path that I think led to the woods. I was a little surprised at how many kids in total were here—and how many different color T-shirts.

  When enough of us had gathered, a counselor I’d seen only once before introduced herself. Instead of a sweatshirt, she wore a long, flowing, multicolored dress. “My name is Kya,” she said, her voice both quiet and powerful. “And I was born in Ghana. My name means ‘diamond in the sky.’ So I offer you welcome to both fire and sky tonight.” She bowed her head slightly. “I run the zip line here, so I’ll meet most of you over the next few days.”

  We all looked at each other, not sure what was going to happen next. Kya knelt by the logs with this literally foot-long match and lit the twigs at the bottom. At first I saw only smoke, but then a flicker of orange licked skyward, and whoosh! With crackles and pops, suddenly that flicker became a flame, and the flame found fuel in the wood and sticks and charcoal around it. Orange and red and yellow began dancing around each other, changing, merging… just becoming.

  Becoming… pretty. It was a little strange—the evening air was cool, but the flames were hot and bright, decorating the night.

  Athena clapped happily. A boy across from us reached out to try and catch a stray spark. As if they were starving, those small flames gobbled those branches and grew and grew. More sparks rose into the sky, and as I looked up to watch them—whoa! I’d never seen so many stars!

  At home, if I’m out late at night, I might see a few milky white dots in the sky—maybe the moon if it wasn’t hiding behind clouds. But here, each star popped proudly through the inky darkness. There had to be a million of them. If she were here, Mrs. V would have had me learn a million adjectives to describe what I was seeing. Blazing. Dazzling. Glistening. Luminous.

  The bonfire. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen pictures of bonfires. But nobody I know even has a real fireplace in their house. Mrs. V has a little square heater that has a fake fire inside made out of lights that flicker and glimmer, and look almost real. She once told me if I closed my eyes and imagined, I would know what a real fire felt like. She was wrong about that one.

  The dancing flames gobbled the logs in the pit, turning them red hot, then ashy white. I could have watched it forever.

  I glanced around the circle of kids—they, like me, seemed entranced by the fire. It was awesome to see so many confident-looking kids in wheelchairs. Like we were all the insiders instead of the outsiders for a change. One girl had streamers woven through the spokes of her wheels—cool. How had I never thought of that? And one boy rolled back and forth, back and forth, with a fire-engine-red motorized chair—pretty sweet.

  But even though everyone was chattering and giggling and pointing at the flames, I also bet that most of them were as unsure as I was about what might happen during our first full night at camp.

  Cassie jogged over, baseball hat off. Her hair was short and spiky—the tips dyed blue and orange and green and purple. I guess she was aiming to claim all of us! Mom says I can’t do anything to my hair until I’m sixteen. We’ll see about that!

  Small as Cassie was, as she stood in the firelight, she loomed large. “Welcome to Fire Time, campers,” she called out. She stopped and smirked. “Well, actually, every night around here is Fire Time—we do like our bonfires—and anything made with chocolate!”

  As I sat there in my massive sweatshirt, a shiver ran through me. Not because I was cold, but because this was actually kinda awesome! And also, what was it with these folks and chocolate? I chuckled. There are other flavors, you know.

  “Since we have lit up the night with fire, let’s fill up the night with some songs! But I hope a few of you can sing better than me.” That broke the ice—we all cracked up. She had set up a cool-looking speaker system. She fiddled with the back of it until something that sounded like WEE-WOW erupted from the speaker. That sure woke me up!

  Athena shouted, “Volume control!”

  “Sorry, people!” Cassie apologized. “I think I have it working now.”

  When the music started, I recognized the guitar strum, strum, strum of the song. The Black-Eyed Peas started singing, “I gotta feeling…” I knew that one! And so, apparently, did everyone else. We started chanting, “Tonight’s gonna be a good, good night…” Well, I didn’t exactly chant, but hey, I was right there in it, humming along. And when I hum, I can actually stay in tune! And you know what, it really did feel like a good night.

  Just as the last notes of that song were ending, Cassie shifted to “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” We sang even louder, really feeling the words, “Oh girls, they wanna have fu-un/Girls just wanna have fun!”

  By this time Athena had jumped up and started dancing to the music all by herself. Jocelyn rocked in place, singing softly. It turned out that Jocelyn had an amazing voice! She’d hardly spoken ten words all day, but whoa—she could really sing. Even Karyn sang, so maybe she was having fun too?

  Then a boy’s voice shouted out, “Hey! So do we!” And every time the word girls came on, all the guys screamed, “BOYS!” And suddenly we were all in a screaming war! If Cassie wanted to fill up the night with sound, we’d sure made that happen.

  After a few more songs—which nobody seemed to know all the words to, so we just made stuff up, which made us laugh even harder—the fire began to dwindle, and so did I. That’s when I saw it—flitting over Jocelyn’s head, as if it was attracted to the sound of her voice—a lightning bug. Then another. Then—wow—dozens! Where did they all come from? Had someone sent out an invitation to the Fire Time celebration? Had they traveled here from Mrs. V’s?

  Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the whole night sky began to blink. So many fireflies darting and zipping, each one brightening the night for less than a second, until the next flash. Hey, maybe Penny was looking at fireflies right now at home…. Wouldn’t that be cool?

  Suddenly a boy in a slightly dirty purple T-shirt came barreling past us on a walker. He let go of it as he reached out and grabbed into the air. “Got one—got two!” he shouted, nearly tripping over my wheelchair.

  “Ooh! Let me see!” Athena begged. The boy pivoted around, leaned on his walker for support, and partially opened his cupped hands to reveal a pair of fireflies.

  I was wondering, Who is this kid?

  “Ooh, pretty! Pretty. Pretty,” Jocelyn said, coming close, peering into the boy’s hand.

  “Do they bite?” Athena wanted to know, bouncing on her toes. I knew the answer to that! I made a soft grunt so she’d look over, and shook my head no.

  “Melody’s right!” Trinity agreed. “No. All they want to do is fly around and make the night sky pretty. Oh, and to find other little fireflies to hang out with.”

  “Why do they glow like that?” Karyn asked, straining to see. The boy bent forward to show her, too.

  “To send a message!” I typed out quickly. The boy looked at me for a moment, then nodded his head in agreement. He had thick, tousled curls and almond-shaped eyes that reflected the firelight. He. Was. Cute. And he never really stopped moving—sort of like the lightning bugs in his hands.

  “Points for Melody—right again,” Trinity agreed. “Their blinking backsides are like a text message to other lightning bugs that says, ‘Y’all come on out tonight—we’ve got a party going on here!’ ”

  The firefly boy gave a laugh, but then said, “We should let them go. Maybe they can find some glowworms and have a party!” His voice sounded a little hoarse, like he’d been gargling dirt or something.

  Karyn looked thoughtful, then said, “I bet they’re scared and just want to be home with their moms.”

  “True, that,” the boy said with a nod.

  Jocelyn murmured, “Scared. Scared. Scared.”

  Athena pursed her lips. “Yep!”

  “Anything that’s got wings ought to be able to zoom where it wants to!” Karyn added fiercely.

  And I tapped, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  A bunch of other kids had gathered to see the fireflies too, and now we circled around the boy as he spread his hands open like wings themselves. For several long seconds, nothing happened. Then the fireflies blinked their black and golden bodies and lifted themselves into the darkness.

  Free.

  CHAPTER 17

  By the time Trinity got my face washed and teeth brushed, and we’d gone back to our cabin, where I changed into my pajamas and was tucked into my bunk, I was wiped out. The bed—actually just a mattress on a rectangular wooden box—wasn’t soft like at home, but it wasn’t lumpy, either. And Mom had packed my favorite blanket—the turquoise cotton one that lived at the bottom of my bed. When Trinity snugged it around me, I could smell Dad’s bean soup and Mom’s scented candles; Penny’s raggedy old Doodle, which actually smelled pretty funky; and the hot doggy breath of Butterscotch. Interesting, I thought, to be not at home and still smell home at the same time. This place, I guess, smelled kinda brown—not ugly, mud-colored brown, but the brown of tree bark and paths made of earth. Not so bad.

  It was dim in the cabin, but not really dark. I guess they didn’t want anybody to get scared and freak out. The windows had shutters that filtered the moonlight from outside, but not so much that we couldn’t see what was going on. Once we campers settled in, our counselors climbed into the beds above us, those bunks hardly even shaking. I guess Mom would approve, but boy, they weren’t kidding when they told us the counselors never left our sides!