Twelve by Lauren Myracle Read Free Book Online Page B

his whistle, and she squeezed my arm and dashed off.
    â€œI don’t understand why she waited so long to invite you,” Mom said, grumpy at missing her TV show even though I set up the VCR to tape it for her.
    â€œI don’t know, because she was busy,” I said.
    â€œIt’s not the most convenient of times,” Mom said. “Sandra’s volleyball banquet is tomorrow, and I’m supposed to bring refreshments, which means I need to bake a couple dozen cookies. And I still haven’t hemmed your graduation dress.”
    I eyeballed her. She maintained her indignation for a moment, then laughed, knowing she’d been called out. Like she’d really be hemming my graduation dress instead of mooning over the cute gardener on her show.
    At Amanda’s house, the camp presentation had already started. Mom joined the other parents in the cluster of chairs and sofas, and I scurried onto the floor beside Amanda. Some of the girls I didn’t know. They were probably from Amanda’s neighborhood and didn’t go to Trinity. But I saw Maxine leaning against the coffee table, and Louise was sitting next to her. I gave a small wave. They waved back. Mysteriously, there was no sign of Gail.
    Mrs. Foskin, the camp lady, talked for a bit about Camp Winding Gap, then dimmed the lights for a slide show. We saw girls doing farm chores, girls paddling canoes, girls with their arms around one another in front of their cabin. They looked so happy. We saw girls eating dinner in a big room with rows of long tables. We saw a line of girls on horseback, framed by the setting sun.
    I glanced behind me at Mom. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I imagined myself hiking through the woods and building fires, and on Sundays having church in an outdoor chapel. I imagined myself galloping on a pure white horse, its mane flying in the wind. I’d never ridden a horse, but I’d seen people do it on TV. It didn’t look hard.
    â€œGood ol’ Lightning,” I’d say at the end of a satisfying day. My campmates would gather round as I brushed his silky coat. “We rode out early to see the sunrise, and then we just kept going. What about you guys? You ever ride a horse so fast it felt like flying?”
    The lights in the Wilsons’ living room came back on. I blinked in surprise.
    â€œCamp Winding Gap is a wonderful, positive, enriching experience,” Mrs. Foskin said, clasping her hands in front of her. “And now, I’d be delighted to answer any questions.” She lifted her eyebrows to acknowledge a woman in the back. “Yes?”
    â€œHow much does it cost?” the woman asked.
    Mrs. Foskin explained about two-week sessions versus three-week sessions. Amanda’s mom caught Amanda’s eye and subtly tilted her head, and Amanda got to her feet. She pulled me up with her.
    â€œIt’s time for snacks,” she whispered. “Come help.”
    In the kitchen, I fell into my role as if it were second nature. I remembered every little thing about Amanda’s house, even though I hadn’t been over for months. But when I went to get some napkins, I came up empty. The napkin drawer was full of plastic containers.
    â€œMy mom rearranged,” Amanda said, coming over and opening the next drawer up. She pulled out a stack of napkins, the good kind that were soft and thick. “Here.”
    â€œMercy buckets,” I said, stealing Mom’s fake French way of saying “thanks.” I started pairing brownies with napkins, arranging them on a tray. “So . . . why isn’t Gail here?”
    â€œShe already has a summer camp,” Amanda said. If she knew it was hard for me to ask, she didn’t show it. “It’s for being an equestrian. You know, horses?”
    â€œOh,” I said.
    â€œShe goes every year. She’s really good.”
    She would be, I thought. She probably wore those tight black pants and everything.