Читать книгу Secrets at Camp Nokomis - Jacqueline Dembar Greene - Страница 3

“Pay attention,” Mama warned Rebecca. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

Rebecca could barely take her eyes from the brightly painted stars dancing across the dome of the train station. She had never imagined that Grand Central Terminal was so elegant.

Grandpa followed Rebecca’s gaze. “In the country, you’ll see real stars,” he said, putting his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder. “So close—you can almost touch them.”

“You won’t see stars if we don’t find your camp group,” Mama said. She craned her neck trying to see over the throngs of people. Families ushered children through the vast terminal, shouting over the echoing din of voices. Several men in sporty knickers stood near a marble staircase holding camp banners. One read “Sunrise Lake Camp,” and another “Camp Pinewood,” but none named Rebecca’s camp. Rebecca guessed that the young men must be counselors for boys’ camps.

“There!” Mama announced, pointing to a tall woman in a yellow skirt holding a sign for Camp Nokomis. Rebecca’s pulse raced. She was going to spend eight whole days in the countryside! If only her friend Rose were here, too. It would have been so much more exciting to be heading to camp together, as they had planned.

“It is good you can leave the city,” Grandpa said. “You get fresh air, and even swimming, instead of heat and sickness all around.”

Rebecca bit her lip at the mention of sickness. Grandpa didn’t have to remind her that polio, a sudden illness that left many of its victims paralyzed, had begun to plague New York City. It seemed to strike children most. That’s why Rose was at home while Rebecca was ready to board a train.

She and Rose had been thrilled when their applications were chosen for the very first camp session. Every neighborhood family without money to spare signed their daughters up for the free camp. There were never enough spaces for everyone, but Rebecca and Rose had been among the lucky girls picked by the City Children’s Society to attend Camp Nokomis.

Then, just a few days ago, a boy in Rose’s building became ill with polio. City health workers nailed a quarantine sign on the front door. No one could go in or out of the building, in order to prevent the dangerous disease from spreading. Now poor Rose was stuck in her apartment, and Rebecca would be at camp without her.

“I wish I knew someone else going to Camp Nokomis,” Rebecca said anxiously.

“You’ll make new friends,” Mama reassured her. Rebecca hoped Mama was right.

They pressed forward until they stood in front of the lady holding the camp sign.

“Your name?” the woman asked, looking down at Rebecca.

“Rebecca Rubin, Miss,” she answered politely.

“I’m Miss Henry,” the woman said, “and I’ll be accompanying you on the train.” She looked at Mama. “I’ll need Rebecca’s health certificate.”

Mama handed Miss Henry the doctor’s form that had been issued after Rebecca’s physical exam. Miss Henry added it to a large envelope and checked off Rebecca’s name on a neatly typed list. Rebecca saw some names with lines drawn through them and felt a pang of sadness. Maybe one of them was the name of her friend, Rose Krensky.

When all the girls were assembled, Miss Henry addressed the parents fussing over their daughters. “Don’t worry a bit. The girls will be well cared for.” Some parents had tears in their eyes as they hugged their daughters good-bye.

Mama kissed Rebecca on the cheek. “Do take care, Beckie,” she said. She smiled, but Rebecca saw that her mother’s eyes were moist. Rebecca felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. She truly wanted to go to camp, but without Rose, it was harder to leave.

With Miss Henry leading the way, the girls trooped off, clutching carpetbags and cardboard suitcases. They gawked at the huge glass windows in the station and the seemingly endless stairway. As they neared the tracks, the sound of chugging train engines filled the terminal.

“Here’s our train car, girls,” Miss Henry announced. “All aboard!”

Miss Henry carefully counted heads as the girls found seats in a passenger car. Rebecca slid into a window seat. In moments, the train blasted a piercing whistle and clattered out of the station. Rebecca felt her stomach lurch. She really was going away to the country—all by herself.

Miss Henry raised her voice above the noisy train wheels as they clacked along the iron tracks. “This is the smallest group we’ve ever had,” she said, frowning at her list. “Unfortunately, several campers canceled at the last moment, and it was too late to contact more girls.” She pasted on a faint smile. “Aren’t you lucky! You’ll have lots of space inside your tents. You’ll learn to swim, and canoe, and make some lovely crafts. Not to mention there will be an abundance of nutritious food.” Then she added with a grin, “And some not-so-nutritious toasted marshmallows!” A few girls clapped their hands in delight.

Swimming! Canoeing! Rebecca felt sorry for anyone who had to miss such a wonderful trip. Perhaps, like Rose, some girls were stuck in quarantined tenements—or worse, maybe they were sick themselves. Rebecca tried not to think too much about Rose.

She glanced at the other girls, wondering if they wanted new friends, too. Some of them already knew one another. They hugged and laughed and chattered about all they had done in the past year. They barely looked at the new campers.

Rebecca turned to the girl sitting next to her. “I’m so excited,” she said brightly. “Aren’t you?” But the girl just stared down at her lap. She was younger than Rebecca and seemed about to cry. Rebecca patted the girl’s hand. “Don’t worry, we’re going to have a grand adventure,” she said firmly. She tried to swallow the lump in her own throat.

Rebecca watched through the train window as city buildings flew by in a blur. Before long, the view changed to villages, trees, and fields. The train stopped at a few depots, and groups of boys poured out of the cars, ready to head to their camps. They shouted and jostled each other while chaperones herded them together. At last the train pulled into a small station, and Miss Henry clapped her hands for attention.

“Camp Nokomis girls, gather your belongings and file out in a ladylike manner, please.” While the girls stood on the platform, Miss Henry dashed back into the train car to be certain no one had been left behind. Just in time, she stepped down as the whistle blew and the train pulled out of the station.

A sour-faced man in a stiff-collared shirt approached Miss Henry. “Jeremiah Turnbull,” he said, extending his hand, “Chairman of the town health committee.” Miss Henry introduced herself and stepped away from the girls. The two spoke quietly together and Miss Henry handed over the envelope containing the health certificates. The official riffled through them briefly before tucking the envelope under his arm and striding off.

A few townspeople milled around the station, but none smiled at the girls. Rebecca was relieved when a group of cheerful young women decked out in camp clothes approached.

“Welcome, campers!” one said.

A stout woman standing near the ticket window exclaimed, “Look at that!”

“Simply scandalous,” sniffed her companion.

“Folks here don’t think girls ought to be tramping around in bloomers,” the counselor told the girls. “But what else would we tramp around in?” She did a couple of energetic jumping jacks.

Rebecca didn’t care what the townspeople thought. She couldn’t wait to change from her everyday dress and shoes into her new camp clothes. The City Children’s Society had given the campers puffy bloomers and middy blouses with crisp sailor collars and blue bows. There were spiffy white sneakers and stockings, too. But Rebecca’s most treasured item was a bathing dress. At last, she would learn to swim.

As Miss Henry rejoined the group, one of the counselors shouted, “We’re off!” The girls formed a line behind her. Some of the counselors carried the bags that weighed down the youngest girls. They strode along the rough path with ease in their loose bloomers, while Miss Henry wobbled in her high button boots, her wide-brimmed hat bobbing and her skirt swishing.

Looking around, Rebecca saw colorful wildflowers blooming in green meadows. Above her, birds chirped and trilled in a cheerful chorus that filled Rebecca with a warm glow. She had never heard anything like it in the city.

“Look,” shouted a camper, “strawberries!” They all turned their heads toward a field of low plants with bright red berries clustered under the leaves.

“Oh, I adore strawberries,” gushed one of the girls.

“Maybe our cook will bake us strawberry pies,” said a counselor.

“Humph,” grumbled a redheaded camper. “There weren’t any pies last year. The cook thought we should all eat an extra serving of broccoli for dessert, she did!” The redhead spoke with an Irish brogue, and Rebecca liked the lilting sound.

“Oh, Red, it wasn’t that bad,” another girl responded. “I think I remember you having a pretty healthy appetite.” The redhead tossed her curly hair and ignored the comment.

“We were quite fortunate to hire a wonderful new cook this summer,” said Miss Henry. “She’s called Miss Pepper.” The girls twittered at the cook’s funny name.

“I hope she doesn’t put pepper in our food!” one of the girls joked.

The path meandered through towering trees, and Rebecca sniffed the piney air. A soft bed of pine needles cushioned her feet. The forest grew deeper, and a thick canopy of leaves shrouded the sunlight. After a long walk through the woods, the girls passed under an archway. Overhead, a carved wooden sign read “Camp Nokomis.”

Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat. She had left the city behind as surely as if she had walked into another world. Instead of crowded apartment buildings and alleyways, the girls filed past a row of tents and entered a clearing. A towering wooden pole stood in the center with a flag waving in the breeze. Nearby, a dazzling blue pond glistened in the sunshine.

“I wish you all an enjoyable and productive stay,” Miss Henry said. “I shall see you again in eight days.” She walked toward a rough log building with an open porch.

A counselor stepped forward. She wore her hair in one long braid. “I’m Barbara,” she said, “but everyone here calls me Babs. We’ll be spending lots of time together in Crafts.” Babs pointed away from the clearing to the row of tents. “You’ll be assigned to a tent according to your age. The first tent is called Turtle, and it’s for the eight-year-olds. Nine-year-olds are in Crane, and going up in age we have Deer, Beaver, and Loon.” Rebecca counted on her fingers. She would be in Beaver.

The campers stared solemnly at Babs. “Don’t look so serious,” she said. “You’re going to have a whopping good time!”

As the counselors introduced themselves and assembled their charges, Rebecca gazed at the pond. She could hardly wait to jump into the rippling blue water. Her eyes scanned the shoreline, where she saw a row of green, red, and yellow wooden canoes just waiting to slide across the gentle waves.

“Camp is so much better than being stuck at home,” Rebecca said to an older girl standing next to her. The girl nodded and grinned. Rebecca couldn’t wait for all the camp adventures to begin.

A slim, wavy-haired counselor called out in a perky voice, “Eleven-year-olds follow me to Beaver.”

That’s me! Rebecca realized and stepped forward. She thought the dimple-cheeked young woman looked sweet.

“I’m Virginia,” said the counselor with a bright smile. “I’m so glad to meet you all.”

Rebecca eagerly joined several girls as they approached the large white canvas tent. From the Loon tent next door came a rousing cheer. “Loonies, Loonies, hip, hip, hooray!”

The redheaded girl from the walk to camp was in Rebecca’s group. She nodded knowingly. “Some of us have been here before,” she said.

What fun, Rebecca thought. I hope I’ll be back next summer, too.

The Beavers filed into the tent, and Rebecca looked around at the empty bunk beds and rough wooden floor. She was surprised to see a camper already making up a bottom bunk. She didn’t recognize her from the train or the hike to camp. Of course, there were so many new faces, she easily could have missed her.

Virginia handed out bundles of sheets and striped wool blankets. “Can you make up your beds?” A few girls admitted they had never done it before. “Time to learn!” Virginia said. “I’ll turn you into experts.” As the girls collected their bedding, she told them, “There aren’t many rules here, but making your bed each morning is one of them. I want to see tight corners! In addition, you’ll be assigned a daily chore that must be done promptly and well. Never leave the campground without permission, and once you’re in bed for the night, no wandering outside the tent. There are plenty of skunks, and last year campers saw a bear prowling around.”

Rebecca gulped. Skunks and bears? The forest didn’t seem as safe as her own street back in the city.

“Now, pick a bed and I’ll give you a bed-making lesson,” said Virginia. The girls looked at the two rows of metal bunks, uncertain which beds to choose.

The red-haired camper with the brogue took command. “I was here last year, so I’ll help everyone set up,” she said, turning to the girl closest to her. “You’ll be up top here.” Then she patted her hand on the lower bunk and turned to a second girl. “You take the bottom.”

Rebecca could barely take her eyes from the girl’s flaming copper-red hair. Her skin was as pale as Mama’s milk pudding, and there was a sprinkling of cinnamon freckles across her nose and cheeks. Rebecca couldn’t help but admire the confident way the girl went about organizing everyone. Although she still missed Rose, Rebecca suddenly felt certain she would make lots of interesting friends at camp, starting with the spunky redhead.

She assigned Rebecca to the bunk above the girl who had arrived first. The girl smiled and Rebecca beamed at her. She was sure they were going to become best friends.

The red-haired camper plunked her bedding on the bottom of one of the remaining empty bunks and set her carpetbag on the upper bed. “I guess I have this entire bunk all to myself,” she announced. She sounded surprised, but Rebecca couldn’t help wondering whether she had planned it that way.

Rebecca looked for a place to store her carpetbag and saw a flat-topped leather trunk near her bunk. “Is this where we put our things?” she asked her bunk mate.

“Oh, no,” the girl said. “That’s mine.”

Rebecca stared at the large trunk. “How in the world did you carry it all the way from the train station?” she asked, setting her bag on a bench at the foot of the bunk bed.

“My mother had it sent,” the girl responded.

Rebecca flapped open her bottom sheet and tried to reach up to make her bed. The girl below scooted out. “You can stand on the edge of my bed,” she offered. She was dressed in a long, oversized jumper that nearly covered her feet. Rebecca tried not to stare at the ill-fitting dress.

“I’m Rebecca Rubin,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Christina,” the girl said in a soft voice. “Christina Pfeffer.”

“Now that we’re bunk mates,” Rebecca said, “we’ll get to know each other really well.” Stepping carefully onto the edge of Christina’s bed, she tucked the bottom sheet tightly around the edges. Christina handed her the top sheet and then the blanket. The girl’s wrists were as thin as straws, and bangs nearly hid her eyes.

“I can’t wait to get out of this dress and put on my bloomers,” Rebecca announced when her bed was made. There was a chorus of agreement from the other girls. They pulled bloomers and blouses from their bags. Christina untied a thick piece of twine that fastened the latch on her trunk. She opened the lid a crack, reached her hand inside, and pulled out her camp clothes.

The red-haired camper glared at her. “Hey, you’re in the wrong tent. Beaver is for eleven-year-olds.” She put her hands on her hips. “Sure an’ you look like you belong with the Turtles!” The other girls chuckled, a bit nervously. Christina didn’t reply but started to leave the tent, holding her clothes.

“Wait, where are you going?” Rebecca asked.

“The privy,” Christina answered quietly. She clumped down the steps, her hand sliding down the railing.

While the girls changed and put away their city clothes, Virginia checked each bed, helping to smooth and tighten covers and demonstrating the technique. Rebecca glanced up when Christina returned wearing long, baggy bloomers that reached well below her knees. Her stockings sagged against her thin legs. She was so small, Rebecca reflected, that all her clothes were probably too long for her.

Virginia called the girls together. “Let’s get acquainted. We’ll become friends a lot quicker once we learn each other’s names.”

The red-haired camper started off. “I’m Mary Margaret Bridget McBride,” she announced. Christina was next and gave her name timidly.

“Christina?” Mary Margaret Bridget repeated. “We’ll call you Teeny Tina!” Christina opened her mouth in a wide O, as if to protest, and then clamped it shut without a word.

“Nicknames are fine,” Virginia said, “but everyone should be pleased with what she’s called. Perhaps Christina wouldn’t mind if we shortened her name to Tina.”

All eyes turned to the girl, and she nodded faintly. The girls completed their introductions, and Rebecca tried to remember each name.

“You know,” said Virginia, “the animal names for each tent are taken from the names of real Indian clans. The people in a clan were just like family, even if they weren’t related.” She smiled warmly at the girls. “Your tent mates in Beaver will be like a family, too.”

Rebecca was delighted. This was exactly what she had hoped for—new friends who would be as close to her as sisters.

Mary Margaret Bridget tossed her curly red hair. “Let’s all have similar nicknames to make Beavers special.” She thought a moment. “I’ve got it. We’ll pick names with matching endings!”

“Oh, that would be cute,” another camper agreed.

Mary Margaret Bridget pointed to each girl in turn, dishing out nicknames lickety-split, as confidently as she had assigned each girl to a bunk. “Rebecca, you’re Beckie,” she announced, and Rebecca nodded. Her family often called her Beckie. Mary Margaret Bridget kept going. “Sonia, you can be called Sunny. Camilla, you’re Cammie. Josephine—Josie! Roberta, you’re a bit harder. How about Bertie? And Dorothea, you can be Dottie.” She laughed and added, “Just don’t act dotty!”

Rebecca was amazed that Mary Margaret Bridget had remembered every girl’s name. She noticed that she had skipped Tina, though. Rebecca glanced at the redhead’s mischievous green eyes and could tell that she wasn’t going to stop calling Christina “Teeny,” at least when Virginia wasn’t around.

“What about you?” Bertie asked. “Are you just Mary?”

“She can’t be just Mary,” said Cammie. “She’s a Beaver, so she needs a nickname that matches ours.”

“How’d you get so many names, anyway?” Sunny asked.

“My mother says I’m named for a long line of sainted women from County Cork.” Mary Margaret Bridget tilted her chin up proudly. “Just don’t you dare call me Red, like they did last year!”

“How about Rusty?” Josie suggested.

The girl made a sour face. “That’s just as bad.”

“I’ve got it,” Rebecca said. “Since your names all come from County Cork, we’ll call you Corky.”

The girl’s green eyes sparkled and she smiled at Rebecca. Then she turned to Virginia. “As for you, how about if we call you Ginny?”

The counselor laughed. “Why not? That’s what my brothers call me.”

Rebecca thought Corky had picked nifty nicknames. Everything at camp was relaxed, and now their names were, too.

“I’m going to let you get settled,” Ginny said, “and check back in a little while.” She pointed to a tent near the main lodge. “I share that tent with a few other counselors, so you can find me there if you need me.”

As soon as Ginny was out of earshot, Corky sidled up to Tina and said, “See? You have to be called Teeny or your name won’t fit in with the rest of the Beavers.” Tina frowned and turned away.

If we’re to become fast friends, thought Rebecca, this isn’t a very good way to start.