Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 (17 page)

Carly takes a break from her sit-ups, and Morgan stops tweezing her eyebrows. Poodles continues flipping through her magazine and asks, “What now? Gonna send another one of us home?”

“Come on, girls,” Deb says. “Cheer up.”

“Whatever,” Carly says.

Liana is silently standing by the door, her arms folded across her chest. What is she doing here? Eavesdropping again?

“I have some news that I think you're all going to be excited about,” Deb says.

“You're bringing Alison back?” I ask, my eyes lingering on Liana.

Deb shakes her head. “No, we can't do that. By now she's—”

“Probably grounded for life,” Morgan mutters.

Poor Alison.

“Back home,” says Deb. “Anyway, Janice was concerned about the small number of girls in this bunk, so she asked if anyone in fifteen would consider moving over to this side—and Liana volunteered!” Deb finishes.

You've got to be kidding. We're all silent.

Liana flips her hair.

Un-friggin'-believable. Why does she want to be on this side, anyway? We're practically at war with her and her friends!

Deb waves the intruder over. “Liana, welcome to your new home! You're going to love it on this side of the world. Why don't you bring your blankets over and make your new bed?” she suggests, and then points to—no, don't do it!—the bottom of my bunk.

Nooooooooooo.
Why didn't I take it when I had the chance? Though honestly, I think it would be worse to have Liana on top, always climbing over me whenever she wants to get up to her bed. Knowing her, I think she'd purposely step on my face.

I'll show her. I'll toss and turn and turn and toss, so that she never gets a good night's sleep.

Liana moves right in. By the end of rest hour, she's made her satin purple bed and set up her section of the shelf. She has more makeup than the pharmacy in there, as well as a heavy-looking antique jewelry box. What kind of person brings something so fancy to camp? What if it gets broken? And what kind of jewelry does she have inside, anyway? I never see her wearing any of it.

The rest of the girls are watching her with curiosity. I'm watching her with a whole lot of suspicion.

I pull Poodles over during basketball drills on Lower Field to share my thoughts: “Something is up with Liana.”

Poodles' blue eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

I bounce my ball to her. “I don't know. But why would she ask to be switched when she's BFF with her whole bunk? It's not like she's friends with any of us.”

She bounces the ball back to me. “That is a good point. She could be up to something. We'll keep an eye on her. I'll tell the others.”

The next day, all four of us watch and treat her suspiciously. We are a unit and Liana is the outsider, and we display this during second period at soccer. Liana is now on our team—not that you could tell. None of us passes her the ball. There's no way I'm going to believe she'd actually play against her buddies from fifteen.

After ten minutes of running around, Morgan is gasping. “Does anyone have water? I could have sworn I brought mine, but I don't know where it went.”

Liana appears next to her with a full bottle. “You can have some of mine,” she says sweetly.

Morgan steps back in surprise. After a moment's hesitation, she takes a long sip from Liana's bottle. “Thanks,” she says, smacking her lips.

Liana smiles. “Happy to help.”

After that, Morgan passes Liana the ball. And Liana doesn't waste it. She kicks it directly into fifteen's net.

“Go, Liana!” Morgan cheers.

Go away, maybe.

So she scored a point for our team. So what? She's obviously up to something. But what?

After soccer, Morgan seems to have either forgotten or dismissed our Proceed with Caution plan. Suddenly, Morgan and Liana are BFFs. They sit together at lunch. They pick each other as partners for tennis.

Part of me is not entirely surprised. I like Morgan, but sometimes she's a little obnoxious, not to mention crude.

“There's something off about her,” Poodles says after tennis, as we pick up our stray balls. “But I can't put my finger on it.”

“I never did trust Morgan a hundred percent,” I say.

Poodles looks at me funny. “Why are you backstabbing Morgan? I'm talking about Liana. I don't trust her at all.”

My face burns. I feel chastised, and even angrier at Liana. Look what she's turning me into! A backstabbing bunkmate. “I don't trust Liana either,” I say. “Or like her.”

We look up and catch Liana glaring at me. Then she whispers something to Morgan and the two of them crack up.

Poodles tosses her ball into the air and then catches it. “The feeling is obviously mutual. She doesn't seem to like you, either.”

Raf and I are in the playground, swinging side by side, enjoying our afternoon snack.

Everything about this moment is yummy to the power of three. One, instead of plain milk, there's surprise chocolate milk; two, I'm on a swing; and three . . . well, Raf.

“How do you like your new bunkmate?” he asks.

I kick my legs up to gain momentum. “There's something weird about her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just something,” I say noncommittally. Recalling what Poodles said about backstabbing, I don't tell Raf all about why I don't like her. I don't want him to think I'm mean. Or paranoid.

“Hi, guys,” I hear.

Speak of the devil. Liana is standing in front of us with Morgan. Morgan is wearing her typical itsy-bitsy bikini top and short swim shorts. Liana, on the other hand, is looking glamorous, as usual, in a tight white halter top and a long navy blue wrap skirt.

She really does have the best clothes—and a lot of them. Now that I think about it, I realize I've never seen her wear the same outfit twice. How is that possible? Her cubby is too neat to hold so many clothes. But I guess she has to keep it that way to keep track of them all.

I'd be happier right now if I weren't wearing a particularly grubby black T-shirt and gray shorts that I love to wear but keep forgetting to toss into my laundry bag.

Liana's eyes are on me. “Need a push?”

“No, thanks.” Unless it involves pushing you out of the way.

She turns to my quasi boyfriend and smiles. “Raf, I'd love to give you a push.”

The chocolate milk in my stomach curdles. I can‘t believe she said that. Who introduced them, anyway? She smiles at him sweetly. Why is she flirting with him?
Hands off,
I want to yell.
Step away from the swing!

“I'm all right,” he says.

“You know, Raf,” she says, “you look so much like Will. Don't you think so, Rachel?”

Just where is she going with this? She doesn't know about us, does she? She can't know . . . unless Morgan told her.

“I think he looks like himself,” I answer, and glare at the two girls.

“Really?” Liana purrs. “I think he looks just like Will. But better-looking.”

If she doesn't stop hitting on my Raf, I'm going to . . . Before I can control myself, her chocolate milk leaps out of her glass and lands in a blob on her previously clean white halter.

She looks at her shirt in shocked silence. Then she looks up at me and scowls.

As if it's my fault.

Okay, it
is
my fault, but she has no way of knowing that.

I feel guilty for a half second, before Raf jumps off his swing and offers to get napkins from the kitchen. Liana follows him, giving me a nasty smile.

Morgan spots Will and runs off to shake her boobs.

Thanks, Liana, for killing my romantic moment by the swings.
Yeah, I know it's my fault for letting my magic get the best of me, but it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't flirted with my guy.

As I sit on the swing by myself, I decide that I might need to make another visit to Miri tonight. It's becoming apparent that I need something stronger than megels.

Deb, Poodles, Carly, and I decide to work on our tans during GS, while Liana and Morgan and all of bunk fifteen splash around in whale.

“I can't believe they're BFFs all of a sudden,” Carly says while reapplying suntan lotion to her legs.

“Girls, be nice,” Deb says. “She's not that bad. Sure, she's a little high-strung, but—”

“You
have
to be nice,” Poodles snorts.

I spot Miri alone in her bunk line. The rest of her bunk is in the water. I wave her over. “What were you doing?”

She spreads out her towel next to mine. “Thinking.”

“Why aren't you swimming?”

She shrugs.

“Want me to go swimming with you?”

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“I'm not wearing a bathing suit.”

“Miri, you have to wear a bathing suit on the beach.”

“I didn't think I'd have anyone to go swimming with.”

“I'll swim with you.”

“I don't have my suit on, remember?”

I sigh. “You should be socializing during GS, not just thinking.”

“Raf isn't socializing.”

I look at where she's pointing and spot Raf lying on his back, engrossed in a book. He's so cute when he's studious. “That's different. He's not socializing because he wants to read, not because he doesn't have any friends.”

I swear I didn't mean for that to come out as awful as it sounded.

“Why are you so mean to me?” Miri snaps, turning bright red. She pushes herself off the sand, grabs her towel, and starts walking away. “I've made friends, by the way. Not that you would notice.”

“Mir, stay. I'm sorry. Hang out with me.”

For a second, I think she's going to keep walking, but then she sits back down. “Can we do some Glinda-ing tonight?” I ask. My code word for training.

She hesitates. “I can't.”

“Why not?”

She plays with the lanyard bracelet on her wrist. “Because . . . because I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night and I need to get some rest.”

“Oh. Well, fine. Tomorrow night?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. And I like your bracelet. Great stitching. Very impressed that you learned square.”

A long shadow cuts across my upper torso. Liana is blocking my sun.

“Hi, Rachel.” She gives Miri a big smile. “Hi, Miri.”

Excuse me? First Raf and now Miri? “How do you know my sister?”

Liana kneels down on my sister's towel, and Morgan sits beside her. “Mir and I are old friends.”

“Oh, really?” Mir? Is she kidding me?

“We're taking tennis together,” Miri explains hurriedly. “As an elective.”

Liana takes a big drink of her water. “Deb, you look kind of dehydrated. You'd better drink some water.”

“What? Oh, thanks.” Deb takes a gulp, then hands the bottle back.

“Poodles, do you want any? You're also looking kind of red.”

“No, thanks.”

Liana shrugs. “Carly?”

Carly shakes her head.

Gee, thanks. She offers it to everyone but me and my sister. Not that I want any. We don't need any Liana cooties.

“Your sister is fantastic, Rachel,” Liana says. “Her serve is deadly.”

Miri beams. “That means so much coming from you. Did you know that Liana is an internationally ranked player?”

Oh, please. She is such a liar.