Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 by Sarah Mlynowski

kick, which is basically holding on to the dock and kicking.
    Gee, thanks.
    Then we have newcomb ball against bunk fifteen. I had never heard of newcomb ball, but apparently it's a camp sport that's a lot like volleyball except easier, because you can catch the ball before lobbing it to the other side.
    “Damn!” Poodles says as the ball slips through her fingers for the second time. Bunk fifteen keeps whipping the ball over the net.
    We've been playing for only three minutes and we're already losing five to zero.
    “What is up with you guys?” Alison asks the other side. “I've never seen you so competitive.”
    “There's nothing wrong with wanting to kick your butts,” barks Kristin, her hands on her hips. She's somehow managed not to lose her pearl earrings. If they were mine, they would be at the bottom of the lake by now.
    It's Natalie's serve and she hurls it straight at me.
    “I got it! I got it! I got it!” I say as I hug the ball into my chest. Yes! I did it!
    “Way to go, Rachel!” my team cheers.
    Now all I have to do is throw it back over the net. The incredibly high-looking net.
    It's time for a little magic.
    It's time to fly!
    Newcomb ball, reach for the sky!
    And then I throw.
    And the ball goes up. And up. Way up.
    Over the trees, over the mountains, and then a distant splash.
    “I think it landed in the lake,” Trishelle says, rubbing her eye and smearing black eyeliner down her cheek.
    “Nice going, Rachel,” Cece says. “Now what?”
    My face feels hot and my neck feels hot and now my arms . . .
    Zap! Rush of cold!
    “Careful!” Alison shouts as the newcomb ball net tips over and crashes down on the bunk fifteen girls, trapping them beneath the mesh.
    Whoopsies.
    Deb and Penelope declare the game over.
     

     
    “We were raided!” Morgan shrieks.
    We wake up the next morning to find our beds and bodies tangled in toilet paper. My pillowcase is covered in shaving cream. Should I be concerned that I dreamed about eating ice cream?
    “This is so gross,” Poodles says, trying to comb the mess out of her hair. “How could anyone be so immature?”
    Our bunk has been totally trashed. Our shelves have been emptied, and our stuff is lying on the floor, covered in toilet paper and sticky orange and pink string. It looks like Times Square on January 1.
    “Do you think it was the boys?” Carly asks.
    The boys? In our bunk? At night! How adorable!
    “No, I bet it was them. ” Morgan juts her chin out at the wall separating us from bunk fifteen.
    Less adorable.
    “They wouldn't do this to us!” Alison exclaims. “They're our friends.”
    “They haven't been acting like our friends,” Poodles grumbles.
    Suddenly, we all realize how quiet the other side of the cabin is. And then we hear muffled laughter.
    Oh yeah, it was them.
     

     
    Of course they deny it. Naive Deb doesn't believe they would do that to us, and since we can't prove anything, we get stuck cleaning for most of the morning.
    “We have to get them back,” Morgan says, stuffing her foamy sheets into her laundry bag.
    “We will,” Poodles says. “But not tonight. We'll do it when they least expect it.”
     

     
    “This is so lame,” Morgan says the next day as she opens the rec hall door for evening activity. The rec hall is an old wooden room with rafters on the ceiling and the names of campers graffitied all over the walls. “It's a sing-down, I know it.”
    I, on the other hand, do not think it's lame. I don't think it's lame because Raf is on the other side of the room. Evening activity is the best, because it's either the whole camp or the entire Lion unit.
    “Rachel!” I look up to see Miri beckoning me to her.
    In a minute, I mouth, then follow my bunk to a bench in the corner. As soon as I sit down, Janice, green pen in mouth (that can't be good), flicks the lights on and off. “Settle down, everyone,” she says. “Sit with your bunks! It's time for a sing-down.”
    “Told you,” Morgan mutters,