I don’t care how much they chant. I’m not kissing a slug.
We walked a million hundred miles through the woods. At some point, Candyman sidled up to me.
“Y’know,” he whispered, “if we had tunneled out of camp last night, we wouldn’t be doing this right now.”
“Yeah?” I replied. “Well, soon my parents will get the letter I wrote them, and they’ll take me home. I’ll be out of here.”
Finally, there was a clearing in the woods, and I could see Camp Ahdoanwanna. We must have walked ten miles in a big circle. In other words, we didn’t go anywhere. What a waste of time.
“Wasn’t that fun?” asked Uncle Ahdoanwanna.
“No!” we all shouted.
Before he left us, I saw him looking at my leg.
“Hmmmm,” he said, “you might have poison ivy, A.J. I need to take you to the infirmary.”
I’ve never had poison ivy before, but it sounds horrible because it has the word “poison” in it. Uncle Ahdoanwanna led us to a cabin that said INFIRMARY on the door. There was a lady inside.
“Hi, everybody!” she said. “I’m Aunt Debbie, the camp nurse. What’s the problem?”
“A.J. has poison ivy,” said Michael.
Aunt Debbie looked at my leg and said “Hmmmm” over and over again. And do you know what she did next?
She put a Band-Aid on my leg.
What?!
“Do you have any medicine?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m not allowed to give out medicine,” said Aunt Debbie.
In the corner was a box of Band-Aids the size of a mailbox. She must give out Band-Aids for everything. So I guess if you fall off a cliff and break every bone in your body, Aunt Debbie would give you a Band-Aid.
No way that lady is a real nurse. She probably kidnapped the real nurse and tied her up in an underground bunker somewhere. That stuff happens all the time.
“As long as you’re here,” said Aunt Debbie, “we should do a tick check.”
“I don’t have a watch,” I said.
“Not that kind of tick, dumbhead!” said Neil.
A tick check, I found out, is when the nurse checks to make sure you don’t have ticks. So it has the perfect name.
Aunt Debbie looked us over carefully. Nobody had ticks. Then she said she wanted to check us for head lice.
“Why would we have headlights?” I asked. “We’re not cars.”
“Not headlights, dumbhead! Head lice!”
Oh. I knew that.
We were supposed to have archery out in the field, but it rained.
We were supposed to go rock climbing, but it rained.
We were supposed to play pickleball, but it rained.
It rained all the time! On Tuesday and Wednesday, there were no outdoor activities. Instead, they had us do something called the Indoor Olympics.
The Lame Games is more like it.
First we had to play a game called Balloon Baseball. You hit a balloon up in the air, and then you have to run around the bases while the other team tries to keep the balloon in the air by blowing on it with straws.
That game was lame.
Then we played a game called Hot Seat. You sit in a chair, and one kid holds a piece of paper behind your head with a word on it. Everybody gives you clues to help you guess what the word is.
That game was lame.
Then we played a game called Musical Baby Food. You stand in a circle and pass around a spoon while music plays. When the music stops, whoever is holding the spoon has to eat a spoonful of baby food from a jar.
That game was lame too. We played all kinds of lame games. It was like the counselors were desperate to come up with indoor activities so we wouldn’t notice it was raining all the time. What a snoozefest. I just hoped my parents got my letter and would pick me up soon.
