Camp Wisahickon

Chapter Seventeen

Warning: this chapter contains major Cartelia feels. Read at your own risk.

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A blessing came in the form of a stomach virus later that morning. Of course, a stomach virus is hardly the blessing you'd hope for, but it wasn't me who got sick. It was Mrs. Brady, who then canceled piano for the next three days, because she needed time to recover. So, even though unfortunate, the sickness did end up being a blessing that I was in desperate need of.

After Carter and I talked by the lake for hours, we split up again so I could head back to my cabin and shower to rid myself of dirt I had acquired in my hair from sleeping outside. When I was finished, I had gone to the auditorium to get the blessed news about my lack of practice, and went on a mission to hunt down Poppy.

I caught a glimpse of wild brown curls in the window of the Recreation Center, and pushed through the front doors to see my best friend sitting at a table. Her feet were up on the table, her chair leaned back, and a smirk on her lips as she effortlessly annoyed the living daylights out of Martino, our least favorite counselor.

"Tell me, Tino, how to do you keep your hair so greasy?" Poppy asks in mock interest.

Martino is just about fuming at this point, sitting down at his desk glaring at her fiercely. The camp counselors weren't supposed to indulge in the campers when they acted like this- Marcus' orders- but Poppy had a knack for testing their limits. I stifle my laughter as I approach the scene, giving Poppy a silent nod when I slide in the seat beside her. Clearly, she was in the middle of something, so I let her continue.

"How many times a week do you shower? I can smell the B.O. from over here," Poppy wrinkles her nose. "Seriously, how do you expect to find a girlfriend if you don't wash yourself?"

Finally, Martino snaps, his fists coming down on the table. "Listen here, you little-"

He stops speaking when he tries to stand up, but can't. His legs extend and he stands, but the seat is still firmly pressed against his butt. I watch his face turn from red to redder, and can no longer hold back my laughter when I realize Poppy had pranked him.

In the middle of my laughter, I turn to her and ask, "Superglue?"

She smirks. "All over the chair."

"I'm going to tell Marcus about this, you brat," Martino spat, fuming at the both of us.

Poppy rolls her eyes. "You're going to tell a grown man that you, another grown man, let some teenage 'brat' glue your butt to a chair?" She raises her eyebrows at him. "I'm shaking."

Martino bares his teeth at her in an unattractive snarl, and I can't help myself from laughing at his desperate attempt to intimidate Poppy. She apparently feels the same, because she chuckles and stands up, then turns to me as if there wasn't an angry camp counselor glued to his chair a few feet away.

"Want to go to the lake?" She asks casually.

I nod happily. "Sure."

We leave Martino behind, ignoring his shouts of protests from the Recreation Center as we let the door slam behind us. As we walk back to our cabin, there are a lot of campers walking around, in a flurry of excitement, and I understood why. Today was a beautiful day with clear blue skies and a slight breeze to make up for the seventy five degree heat.