Witch Twins at Camp Bliss (8 page)

“A non-witch’s wish? Ha! It’s a joke, it takes absolutely nothing to undo,” said Grandy. “And it’s not permanent, anyway. Luna can restore you to regular size on a pinkie spell. As for that girl, Ella, and her extra kicking energy, that’s where you have a problem. As you two have learned, Marigold Zest is a non-witch-friendly powder, and since Ella correctly shook the Zest on her feet, she’ll probably be the star of any sport where she needs a good, strong, zesty kick. If perchance she faced west, her power would be even greater.”

Claire felt tears sting as her mind’s eye imagined Ella Edsel zestfully kicking goal after goal. Good-bye, Buff Team Victory! Good-bye, loving cup!

Mostly, though, Claire wanted to be the right size again.

“Grandy, I hate being puny!” she yelled as loud as she could. “Make me grow back before Ella squashes me like a flea!”

“Buck up, Claire. Terrible things happen to people every day, and you don’t hear them squeaking on and on about it.” But then Grandy quickly recited a “return-to-size” spell for Luna to cast on her sister. “Listen, girls. The reason I’m calling is to tell you I arranged for your father and Justin to pick you two up next week,” she announced. “Foolishly, they think it might be a fun road trip! Oh, Fred, gorgeous shot! Now, remember. Absolutely No More Spells! Hugs and kisses! Good-bye!”

Claire heard Luna send a kiss and replace the phone.

“Hurry, Loon!” she squeaked, hopping up and down. How big was a flea, anyway? A centimeter? A millimeter? Awful Ella Edsel!

“Luna, if your cup is empty, come toss it in this bag.” From somewhere in the room came Talita’s voice. Claire strained through the cup to see Talita’s shadowy outline in the office door. “I’m taking the trash up to the lodge.”

Claire felt Luna’s fingers close around the cup protectively.

“Okay,” said Luna. “Let me just, um …” And then, before Claire could squeak in protest, she felt herself being lifted and shaken forward, sliding from the cup where she landed—yuck!—in the damp warm cave of Luna’s mouth. It was dark as midnight and smelled like peanut butter. Claire perched herself on her sister’s right front molar and pinched her nose against the peanut-butter fumes.

“Bye, then,” Talita called. “Don’t forget to turn off the computer.”

“Mmmggrlk,” Luna answered.

“Open up!” Claire shouted, her teensy sneaker kicking the edge of Luna’s tongue. “It’s hot in here! Sitting in your after-lunch mouth is beyond blecchh!”

Gently, she felt herself being spit from dark to light to land on the pink island of Luna’s palm. Then Luna crouched to let Claire drop to the ground, where she scrambled to stand on her own two tiny legs.

“Sorry about that. It was the only place I could think of to hide you. Now, sister-witch, be thou ready?”

Claire nodded. “Aye.”

She looked up and watched as Luna’s enormous pinkie hovered over her like a rain cloud as she cast:

Undo this curse of cruel despise

Return Claire to her natural size.

It’s only logical to me,

My sister cannot be a flea!

Slowly, Claire felt herself stretching and pulling and shaping back into her regular old self.

“What a relief!” she said when she stood eye to eye and was the same size as her sister, the way it had been since Claire could remember. I’ll never look at a flea the same way again. Or your mouth. Pee-yew, Luna! You should brush after lunch. You’ve got me smelling like a peanut-butter-and-bad-breath sandwich!”

Luna frowned. “There are more important things to think about than how you smell. You have Ella Edsel to compete against, and her feet are zesty.”

“I understand how rebel witches turned out to be rebel
wishers.
But what I still don’t get,” Claire said as they began to walk up to Sleepy Hollow, “is who did the apple spell?”

“Apple spell? What apple spell?” asked Luna.

“I didn’t want to scare you, Loon, but a few weeks ago, I found an apple quartered and buried right outside Sleepy Hollow. You and I both know that’s an Old School, problem-solving spell. That’s why I still think Ella Edsel might be a real-live, sneaky rebel witch.”

Luna cleared her throat. “Actually Claire, the apple-caster was me. It was just this dumb thing I did my first week here, when I hate-hate-hated Camp Bliss. I knew Grandy had said No Spells, but an apple spell has almost no magic at all: I told my problem to the apple because I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to wreck your fun.”

“You like camp now, though, right?” Claire asked.

Luna nodded. “It took longer, but I guess there’s a place for me here, too.”

Claire threw her arm around her sister. “Of course there is! I’m proud of you, Loon. You’re not a great athlete, but you’re a great sport.”

Luna threw her arm around Claire. “Good luck tomorrow,” she said. “I know you’ll be terrific. You have all the zest you need, with or without spells. I’m pulling for you.”

“You better pull for me,” Claire said soberly. “You’re on my team. Together, we’ve got to make the extra effort to crush Ella.”

Claire kept away from Ella for the rest of the evening. She did not even bother to go out to Cow Patty pasture to watch how far Ella could kick the soccer ball. “Luna’s right. I don’t need magic zest,” she whispered to herself. “I’ve got enough zest in me already.”

The next morning dawned bright and muggy, with a light wind off Lake Periwinkle. The camp was set up for a day of competition. The fields had been mowed, and the air smelled like the fresh, clean, blue and buff T-shirts that had been ordered especially for Blue-and-Buff Day.

“Go, Buff, go!” Claire called to anyone she saw in a Buff Team shirt.

“That’s the spirit, Claire!” said Tammy.

Everything was going to be okay, Claire decided. Spirit was practically the same thing as zest.

At breakfast, though, Claire saw that Ella had pulled her hair into two pom-pom pony tails, and she had painted her face with blue stripes.

“I am Big Bad Blue!” Ella sang zestfully “I am True Blue!”

“Great spirit!” Tammy, Pam, and Talita declared. Some of the older girls from Cabin Eight whistled and clapped approvingly.

Claire wished she had thought to paint her face buff or make a pom-pom hairdo. If she did it now, she would look like a copycat.

After breakfast, Glad lent her a tan bandanna, which she tied around her head. Then she wrote
Tuff Enuff for Buff
on her leg, using a yellow glowpaint pen.

“Oooh! Let me try!” The other girls on the team borrowed the paint pen to write on their legs, too.

“Great slogan, Claire! Good leadership!” called the counselors as the entire camp assembled on the field, waiting for the games to start.

Pam strode to the head of the group and lifted her whistle. “Sports fans! The all-day sports-athon known as Blue-and-Buff Day has officially begun. Get set for some volleyball action!” Then she put her mouth on the whistle, puffed out her cheeks, and gave the loudest, longest, screechingest blast yet.

The teams divided. Two volleyball games, one on the North Court, one on the South Court, would be played at the same time. That way, everyone had a chance to participate. Claire and Ella were both on the North Court.

Claire’s eyebrows raised, and her mouth buttoned in determination as she and Ella faced off across the net.

“Blue’s ups!” Ella shouted. But then she only served an easy pop-up that Claire slammed down the middle.

“All right!” cheered the Buff team.

Ella scowled and served again.

Again, Claire slammed a return into the ground.

“Yes!” cheered Buff.

“Be a team player, Claire!” yelled Pam.

Ella served once more, and the ball went out of bounds.

“Out! Out! Out! Yer out! Buff’s ups! Our serve!” shouted Claire.

Blue-and-Buff Day was underway.

In every event, Claire and Ella were neck and neck. If Claire got a bull’s-eye in archery, Ella leaped farther in the long jump. If Ella did an extra chin-up, Claire shaved a second off her relay time.

“True Blue!” Ella crowed as she slammed a grounder between second and third base during the softball game.

“Tuff Buff!” Claire shouted back when she slung and shot her third bull’s-eye in the archery competition.

They kept their eyes on each other, waiting to see who would break the truce and cheat. As far as Claire could see, Ella was playing as honestly as she was playing zestfully Now that she was charged with the extra zing of magic zest, Ella seemed to be more agreeable to rules and fairness. Well, of course, thought Claire grimly. Anyone would be a good sport if she had magically zesty feet!

A chalkboard had been set up by Wuthering Heights cabin. Every time Claire checked on it, the Buff Team was either up by one or down by one. Sometimes Ella swooped by to check, too.

“You’re toast!” Claire would hiss.

“Takes one to know one,” Ella hissed back.

“Ella Edsel and Claire Bundkin! Stop checking the board,” Pam called. “Just enjoy the competition.”

Enjoy it? Impossible!

The Buff Team won the rope climb. The Blue Team won capture the flag. The Buff Team won the softball game. The Blue Team won the canoe relay, which was to be expected since Luna was the worst canoer ever to paddle Lake Periwinkle. (But Claire was truly proud of Luna during the canoe relays. Although she wore two life jackets and did not open her eyes the whole time she was on the water, Luna paddled all the way to the finish line.)

The last event of Blue-and-Buff Day was the tug-of-war. Talita tallied the scores on the board. “If Buff wins,” she announced to the group, “this day ends in a tie. Then two flags will fly over Camp Bliss. If Blue wins, then the blue flag will fly alone for another year!”

“Tuff Buff!” screamed Tammy.

“True Blue!” screamed Pam.

“Tuggers, take your places!” Pam’s breath could barely fill the whistle as she blew into it. Everyone was splattered, battered, muddied, bruised, and beyond exhausted. Some of the Cabin One campers had quit the day long ago and were taking naps in the hammock.

Claire jumped to the head of line. She picked up the rope and gripped it firmly. A red handkerchief was tied around the middle of the rope to mark its dividing point. “Come on,” she whispered to the handkerchief. “A victory for Buff is a victory for me!”

Across the black goo of a lumpy mud puddle created by the counselors just for the tug, Claire stared into the eyes of a very sweaty Ella. Only faint smears of blue streaked her face now, and she had lost one of her pom-poms, which made her look lopsided. Claire knew that she herself was looking pretty messy, too. The yellow glowpaint down her leg had smudged into a bruisey color, and her lower lip was swollen from biting it too hard during the rope climb.

“Forget about winning, Lice Monger Queen of All Cooties,” Claire growled with what energy was left in her. “The Buff Team flag will fly.”

“In your dreams, Puny Pitiful Fleabite,” puffed Ella. “The Blue Team flag flies high and alone!”

Pam blew her whistle, and the tugging began.

Claire pulled. Her arms strained so hard she thought she could feel her joints popping out of her sockets, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was winning. She tugged as hard as she could. Ella tugged hard, too. She stomped her zesty feet so that mud kicked up everywhere, spattering Claire’s face. Claire stomped her own feet and spattered back.

The handkerchief I n c h e d over the mud puddle.

And I n c h e d its way back.

That’s when it happened. Maybe because of Ella’s lopsided pom-pom hair. Maybe because of her puffing, blue-smudged face. Maybe because of her giant, mud-spattered, zesty feet that were stuck like two scuba flippers in the mud. Maybe it was a combination of all three things. But suddenly, Ella Edsel looked very, very funny to Claire.

So funny that Claire felt something like a giant hiccup rising from her stomach. She tried to stop it by gritting her teeth. She pulled with all her might.

The handkerchief I n c h e d closer to the Blue Team side.

“Pull, Blue, pull!” she heard Pam yell.

“Pull, Buff, pull!” yelled Tammy.

Ella was glaring at Claire. Her face was fierce, but she seemed to be holding back an uncomfortable, hiccup-y expression as well. Did Claire look as fierce to Ella as Ella did to Claire?

“Mmm-mmm-mmm!” Ella started to make a noise in the back of her throat.

“Mmm-mmm -mmm!” Claire could not push the hiccup down.

It was impossible, later, for the counselors to decide who let go of the rope first. But as soon as Ella and Claire both lost their grip, everyone else did, too. In a confused instant, the line slammed sideways, skidding into the mud. Girls tumbled and slid into one another before being sucked down into sloppy, gooey mud.

Ella and Claire, who landed plop in the middle of the mud puddle, were holding their stomachs from laughing so hard.

“True Blue!” wheeled Claire.

“Tuff Enough!” Ella gasped.

Blue-and-Buff Day was officially over.

Mr. and Mrs. Carol, the camp directors, who had come to watch the last hour of Blue-and-Buff Day, ruled that the tug-of-war would not be counted in the official tally.

“And so the winner is—the Blue Team!” announced Pam at the pizza and root-beer-float celebration afterward. “The Blue Flag will fly another year! Hip, hip, hooray!”

As the counselors saluted the flag, all of the blue-shirted girls cheered and clapped. The buff shirted girls clapped, too, but more quietly.

Claire gave Ella a nudge and raised up her root-beer mug in a toast.

“You played really great today,” she admitted.

“You, too. You’re a terrific athlete,” confessed Ella.

“Takes one to know one!” shouted Claire, and they clinked mugs on it.

“B
OO!” THE VOICE AT
the lodge door was low and rumbly. At first, Luna did not recognize it. She jumped, startled, and dropped her Ping-Pong paddle.

“Justin!” She hardly recognized her brother. He had become so tall. And dark. And handsome.

“What happened to you?” she exclaimed.

Justin looked shy. Then, catching sight of Lakshmi at the other end of the Ping-Pong table, he recovered by pulling up his shirt-sleeve and flexing a muscle. Two hard bumps appeared. “I made a wad of money, too,” he said in his low and rumbling new voice.