The Moon by Night by Madeleine L'Engle Page A

there had been during dinner and when the hoods threw the Coke bottle.
    The boy was about John’s age, very thin and not a bit suntanned, so that he looked white in comparison to everybody else. Even his parents looked a lot browner than he, but maybe they’d been sitting around under sun lamps. They were the type. He had this velvety black hair that made him look even whiter, and he wore brand new blue jeans and a pink Ivy League–type shirt under the jacket. He was really pretty spectacular.
    They began setting up camp and you’ve never seen such stuff; it would have filled a store. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. I kept wanting to see what they’d pull out next.
    â€œThey’re had; they don’t have,” Mother murmured.
    They went about unpacking without glancing our way or saying a word to us. With the entire campgrounds to choose from I don’t know why they had to pick the site next to ours if they weren’t going to be friendly.
    The tent trailer when they unfolded it was easily large enough for all of us. It was filled with built-in gadgets and they’d added a lot of extra ones. There was a plywood base they’d obviously had made for it. Then the mother saw to it that the boy and the father laid down a linoleum carpet, clucking over them the whole time.
    â€œI guess he’s not one of those other kids after all,” I murmured.
    â€œ Him ,” John grunted. “The poor sap’d probably faint if he ever saw that gang.”

    We heard the sound of another car, and John stated categorically, “That’s Daddy,” and our station wagon came up, looking very shabby in comparison with the shiny black new one, and backed in to our parking space and up to the tent so that we’d be able to fit the back flaps over the tail gate.
    Daddy told us that he and Rob had met the ranger just about to come up and check on us. The kids who’d thrown the Coke bottle were a gang that had been causing trouble, and they’d slipped into the park while the ranger was out getting supplies. His wife hadn’t dared stop them, but she’d called him in town to come right home. He was very apologetic, Daddy said, and he was going to keep the park gates locked from now on. The people in the next campsite had arrived to get their camping permit just as the ranger was telling Daddy all this; the mother was very upset and wanted to go to a hotel, but the boy insisted on coming up to the camp anyhow.
    I realized that they were probably camping next to us because the mother was scared, but you’d still think they could have said hello.
    Now the boy and the father were struggling to tie a plastic top over the entire tent. Daddy and John called over and asked if they could help.
    â€œThanks, it’s very simple, we don’t need any help,” the father said, rather ungraciously.
    Mother asked, “Just what is the plastic for?”
    The plump mother replied, “So the top of our tent won’t get dirty.”
    Mother smiled and said, “I think we’re going to enjoy the battle scars on our tent. It’ll make us feel that we’ve really traveled.”

    (Daddy said afterwards that that was not nice of Mother at all.)
    The father paused in tying plastic and looked down his nose at our tent. “We had an outfit like yours last year. But we like to have the very best so we threw it out and got this. It only takes seven minutes to put up.”
    I didn’t know which seven minutes he was referring to, because we saw them working at it for over half an hour. Daddy and John had already got our tent time down to eleven minutes, and figured that in a couple more weeks they could cut that.
    Mother said in a low voice to Daddy, “What on earth are they doing on a camping trip? She’d look more at home at a bridge table than in a state park.”
    â€œShe ought to know better than to wear plaid pants,” Daddy