other people’s feelings. Her mama said she was different from most children by the way she cared about other people’s feelings.
Wish I didn’t, Cammy thought. Wish I could be just hard as nails like some people I know.
She looked at Patty Ann. Cammy felt hard as nails inside toward her one second. The next second, she felt peevish that she wasn’t more like her.
Why wasn’t I made that pretty? she wondered. Why does she have everything and I don’t? Good in school, and I am good only sometimes, not in everything. Knows how to say things to the teachers that they like. And can sit just as still in Assembly when it is all so pitiful! Me and Elodie have to slump down and poke each other. Like the rest of the kids, and cause a commotion. Not Patty Ann!
Don’t think about it. Oh, look out the window. Oh, look! We’re off the D-bone already. We’re climbing the steep road up to the State Park. Oh, it about drives me crazy that it takes so long. But we are up and up, soon. We go around the school forest. Kids planted all the trees there for at least the last seventy-five years, Mama says. Whew! That’s a lo-oo-ong time!
Cammy looked over into the pine forest as they went by. She could see some of it, the paths where the trees were cut and dragged out at Christmastime.
Everybody in town came up to get a Christmas tree and have hot chocolate. Her mama said it was a swell tradition, the Christmas tree-cutting at the school pine forest.
You can see our town—Mama says its no more than a village. If you are a town, you have to have a jail! But you can see our “town” way off on another hill from where the bus goes by, Cammy thought. She caught a glimpse of it just now.
She leaned back to watch as the gravel road changed to a dark, pavement road. And they were in the State Park. Wood signs, direction arrows carved in the wood. Upper Level, Lower Level.
Old coach road to Cincinnati. Parking, Lower Level.
There’s the sign I want! Oh, great! Shelter, Lower Level. That’s us! Cammy thought, excitedly.
“It’s so fun, the first thing in the morning,” she said to Elodie.
“Yeah, it is,” Elodie answered. She was close behind Cammy’s back. Cammy leaned against her. Elodie rested her chin on Cammy’s shoulder. For a moment, they were just like sisters, looking, feeling the same and seeing the same.
“I can’t wait!” Cammy said. “You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, me neither,” Elodie said. They both straightened up and turned facing front.
The bus pulled into a parking space. They all grabbed their belongings and headed for the stone and wood shelter. It was open all around for four feet above the stone walls. The roof was dark brown like the trim. The shelter was large and roomy, with long tables, a standing grill in the center and a big, old fireplace at one end. You had to sign up for the shelter.
Our day camp has it for three mornings a week, Cammy thought.
“Line your lunches on the table,” said Ms. Devine, as they went inside the shelter.
The counselor for the day camp met them there. He was John Blockson. Mr. Blockson had the kids write their names on slips of paper and pin the papers to their swim-towel rolls. These were then stowed in duffel bags. Next, their lunches were stacked in a kind of rolling locker. Tim took the duffels and locker on a wagon to stow in the baggage part of the bus.
Cammy was so excited! The duffels with their lunches and swim clothes would go to the next stop and be waiting for them at lunchtime.
When Tim came back, he blew his whistle. No need to tell the campers. They all lined up on the open grass behind the shelter. The dew was still dampening the ground and wetting their sneakers.
“Calisthenics,” said Mr. Blockson. Tim helped him lead, bending deeply where the counselor couldn’t.
They went through their routines to music from a tape player with a small loudspeaker. Oh, they sure could exercise to music. The girls tried to make it almost a dance,
Wish I didn’t, Cammy thought. Wish I could be just hard as nails like some people I know.
She looked at Patty Ann. Cammy felt hard as nails inside toward her one second. The next second, she felt peevish that she wasn’t more like her.
Why wasn’t I made that pretty? she wondered. Why does she have everything and I don’t? Good in school, and I am good only sometimes, not in everything. Knows how to say things to the teachers that they like. And can sit just as still in Assembly when it is all so pitiful! Me and Elodie have to slump down and poke each other. Like the rest of the kids, and cause a commotion. Not Patty Ann!
Don’t think about it. Oh, look out the window. Oh, look! We’re off the D-bone already. We’re climbing the steep road up to the State Park. Oh, it about drives me crazy that it takes so long. But we are up and up, soon. We go around the school forest. Kids planted all the trees there for at least the last seventy-five years, Mama says. Whew! That’s a lo-oo-ong time!
Cammy looked over into the pine forest as they went by. She could see some of it, the paths where the trees were cut and dragged out at Christmastime.
Everybody in town came up to get a Christmas tree and have hot chocolate. Her mama said it was a swell tradition, the Christmas tree-cutting at the school pine forest.
You can see our town—Mama says its no more than a village. If you are a town, you have to have a jail! But you can see our “town” way off on another hill from where the bus goes by, Cammy thought. She caught a glimpse of it just now.
She leaned back to watch as the gravel road changed to a dark, pavement road. And they were in the State Park. Wood signs, direction arrows carved in the wood. Upper Level, Lower Level.
Old coach road to Cincinnati. Parking, Lower Level.
There’s the sign I want! Oh, great! Shelter, Lower Level. That’s us! Cammy thought, excitedly.
“It’s so fun, the first thing in the morning,” she said to Elodie.
“Yeah, it is,” Elodie answered. She was close behind Cammy’s back. Cammy leaned against her. Elodie rested her chin on Cammy’s shoulder. For a moment, they were just like sisters, looking, feeling the same and seeing the same.
“I can’t wait!” Cammy said. “You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, me neither,” Elodie said. They both straightened up and turned facing front.
The bus pulled into a parking space. They all grabbed their belongings and headed for the stone and wood shelter. It was open all around for four feet above the stone walls. The roof was dark brown like the trim. The shelter was large and roomy, with long tables, a standing grill in the center and a big, old fireplace at one end. You had to sign up for the shelter.
Our day camp has it for three mornings a week, Cammy thought.
“Line your lunches on the table,” said Ms. Devine, as they went inside the shelter.
The counselor for the day camp met them there. He was John Blockson. Mr. Blockson had the kids write their names on slips of paper and pin the papers to their swim-towel rolls. These were then stowed in duffel bags. Next, their lunches were stacked in a kind of rolling locker. Tim took the duffels and locker on a wagon to stow in the baggage part of the bus.
Cammy was so excited! The duffels with their lunches and swim clothes would go to the next stop and be waiting for them at lunchtime.
When Tim came back, he blew his whistle. No need to tell the campers. They all lined up on the open grass behind the shelter. The dew was still dampening the ground and wetting their sneakers.
“Calisthenics,” said Mr. Blockson. Tim helped him lead, bending deeply where the counselor couldn’t.
They went through their routines to music from a tape player with a small loudspeaker. Oh, they sure could exercise to music. The girls tried to make it almost a dance,
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