Mary Anne And Camp Bsc Part 7

Karen whipped a flashlight out of her backpack, turned it on, and held it under her chin. It made her face look scary and her gla.s.ses look shiny and ghostly in an owl-like way.

"Ooooooh," moaned Karen. moaned Karen.

Kristy held up her hands. "Let the ghost stories beginnnnnnn," she intoned in a creepy voice.

Everyone giggled and whispered and snuggled closer to one another.

Logan cleared his throat. "Okay," he said. "Once upon a time there was a man who always wore a yellow ribbon around his throat..."

"And when he took the yellow ribbon off his head fell off," said Charlotte briskly. "We all know that one. Tell us something good and scary." scary."

"Yeah," said Ricky. "Super "Super scary." scary."

Logan was speechless.

Claudia giggled.

Then Mal cleared her throat. She told a ghost story that really was chilling. She filled it with b.l.o.o.d.y footprints and headless people. And she ended it with everybody dying.

We looked at Mallory in amazement. Was she able to tell such a gruesome story because she was going to be a writer? Or had growing up in the Pike family given her a ghost-storytelling edge?

But if Mal's fellow counselors were disconcerted, none of the campers were. "Oooh," said Karen. "That was a good one!"

Logan stood up and whispered something in Kristy's ear. She looked thoughtful. Then both of them stood up and stepped away from the ghost-story circle.

When they returned, Karen was in the midst of a standard Karen-brand ghost story, full of wild flights of imagination and extra scary details, involving a cave full of vampire bats and a man whose digital watch kept beeping.

After that, we all took turns telling truly gruesome ghost stories. I told one about a ghostly cat (something that had sort of happened to Dawn). Some of the others were so outrageous that they were funny. The campers shrieked - and giggled.

Logan leaned over. "I'll be back in just a minute." I nodded, caught up in the ghost-story spell.

Then Kristy looked at her watch. "Time for one more story. Then we're going to make s'mores and then it's time for everyone to go home."

Silence fell over the group.

Kristy said, "Once upon a time, there was a ghost that hated cookouts. In life, he'd never been allowed to go to camp. He'd always had to stay home. So when he became a ghost, he vowed that he would haunt camps and cookouts forever. One night, he saw a group of campers go into an old, old barn ..."

"No!" squeaked Natalie, in a thrilled tone of voice.

Kristy's voice sank to a whisper. "Yes."

Suddenly, a strange moan came from the back of the barn.

"Who's there?" cried Kristy, jumping up.

All the kids leaped to their feet, too.

And Logan leaped out from behind the edge of an old stall.

"Eeeeeh," several kids cried out. several kids cried out.

Several others began to laugh.

"Gotcha!" said Logan.

"That was great," great," said Karen. said Karen.

"Good one, Logan," said Kristy. "Great idea!"

Everyone began to laugh and talk at once. Dawn blew out the lantern carefully. The campers and counselors went back outside. (Sharon had been keeping an eye on the camp-fire from the house.) The s'mores were excellent. Logan helped Jackie a.s.semble a double chocolate, single marshmallow s'more (with the marshmallow totally blackened). He helped Matt make a s'more out of Reese's Pieces that Matt had brought just for the occasion. He made a couple of chocolate-only s'mores with the marsh-mallows on the side.

And he ate about a zillion marshmallows himself. He said he felt a little like he imagined Pow might have felt if Pow had come to the cookout.

Soon it was time for the kids to leave. One by one the campers' parents arrived. Jackie went home with Kristy and Karen and David Michael and Andrew. His mother would pick him up at the Brewers' house later.

Logan went home still laughing to himself. He'd been afraid he was going to scare the campers to death with his story. And even when the story had been a bust, he'd been worried that his idea to "haunt" the barn would be too scary.

But he'd been wrong. The members of Camp BSC - and Jackie Rodowsky - were a lot cooler than he'd given them credit for.

In fact, Logan said, he almost felt sorry for any ghost that they might ever happen to meet!

Chapter 10.

"Hey, campfire ghost!" called Dawn, waving. She and I were sitting on the front porch the afternoon after the cookout. It was a hot July day and Dawn had turned her face up to the sun. I pulled on a cap, but I was enjoying the sun, too. And enjoying not doing much of anything.

Although I admit that I couldn't help thinking there was a lot that Dawn and I could be doing. Such as cleaning the house.

My dad would be home in another week. Was a week enough time to get the house back in shape?

But the appearance of Logan, riding his bicycle up our driveway, banished the dark thoughts of housework from my mind.

"Logan!" I said.

"You guys ready?" he asked.

"We're wearing our swimsuits under our clothes and we've got towels in our backpacks," I reported.

"Excellent," said Logan.

We were going to have a long, lazy day, hanging out and riding our bikes around Stoneybrook, ending up at the town pool for a swim. As we pedaled down Burnt Hill Road I began to relax.

We cruised along some of the quieter roads in Stoneybrook. People were out gardening and mowing lawns and reading the newspaper in hammocks and washing cars and walking dogs.

"What a wonderful day!" I called back to Logan and Dawn. "What a wonderful, beautiful day."

"Mary Anne!" Logan shouted.

"Logan!" I shouted back. "Hooray for the day!"

"Mary Anne!" Logan and Dawn shouted at once. "Look out!"

It was too late. I looked down just as the front wheel of my bike was swallowed by an enormous pothole. The wheel bounced down. It bounced up. I wrenched the handlebars sideways, trying to maintain control of the bike.

Then the back wheel hit the pothole, bounced out, and propelled the bike into a tree.

It rebounded off that, veered sideways, and flipped over onto the sidewalk, with me underneath.

I don't remember exactly what happened next. I do remember my foot hitting the ground hard as the bicycle skidded and then fell over. I remember landing with a thud on my side and sliding a little ways on the sidewalk.

I remember that it all seemed to happen in super slow motion.

Then I heard Logan saying, "Mary Anne, Mary Anne! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Don't move her," Dawn's voice said.

"Mary Anne, did you hit your head?"

"N-no," I said.

"Can you move your fingers and toes?" asked Dawn.

I experimented gingerly. "Yes." Then I groaned. "Owww. My leg hurts."

"You're all sc.r.a.ped up," said Logan. "I don't think you should move." I didn't feel like arguing because I didn't feel like moving. I felt more like crying. Instead I closed my eyes as Logan and Dawn lifted the bicycle off of me.

Then I heard a familiar voice say, "What happened? Do you kids need some help?"

"Mr. Braddock," said Dawn. "Mary Anne's bike hit a pothole and she fell off and we don't know how badly she's hurt."

"We don't think think it's serious," said Logan quickly and I knew he was trying to rea.s.sure me. "She didn't hit her head." it's serious," said Logan quickly and I knew he was trying to rea.s.sure me. "She didn't hit her head."

I opened my eyes to show Mr. Braddock I was still conscious. Logan smiled down at me and patted my hand.

Mr. Braddock said, "Still, better not take any chances. Let's take you over to the hospital, Mary Anne. It's a good thing I'm in the station wagon today."

Mr. Braddock's voice faded away. I closed my eyes again. I listened to the clatter of bicycles being loaded into the back of the station wagon. I heard Logan say, "We can all fit up front and Mary Anne can lie in the backseat."

A minute later, Mr. Braddock was bending over me. "We're going to get on either side of you and help you up, very slowly. If anything hurts suddenly, or you feel any sharp pain, let us know at once."

Together the three of them lifted me up. I didn't feel any sharp pains, just an all-over ache and burning sensation along my knees and calves - until I was standing up. "Owww," I moaned. "My leg. My foot."

"Put your arms over our shoulders. Logan, you get the door. Dawn and I are going to carry you to the car. Don't put any weight on your left leg."

And that's what they did. I slid gratefully into the backseat and closed my eyes again. I kept them dosed until we reached the hospital.

The emergency room physician's a.s.sistant asked me a few questions about the accident and did a quick examination. Then I was put on a high gurney and wheeled into a room off to one side.

"She doesn't seem badly hurt. And we should be able to get to her fairly quickly," said the a.s.sistant."

"I'll call Mom," I heard Dawn say. "She's my sister."

"May I stay with her?" asked Logan.

"For the time being," said the a.s.sistant. "But you must leave when we tell you to."

"I will," Logan promised.

A moment later, I felt Logan take my hand. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay."

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. My whole body ached and my ankle was starting to throb ferociously. And more than anything else in the world, I wanted my father.

But of course Dad couldn't come. And Logan was right. Everything was okay.

Sharon arrived in no time at all and took charge of things expertly. When Logan and Dawn were banished to the waiting room, Sharon stayed with me. The doctor checked me over and asked me more questions, and then Sharon asked her at least half a dozen. Then there were X-rays and another consultation, this time with the physician's a.s.sistant.

"We've taken a look at the X-rays," he said. "No bones are broken, no serious injuries. Just a lot of painful sc.r.a.pes and bruises that initially made things look worse than they are. And a badly sprained ankle. We're going to take off the temporary dressings on the abrasions and contusions and we're going to put that ankle in a soft brace and try to get you on your way as soon as possible."

He worked quickly and efficiently, I'm sure, but it seemed to take forever. I thought I was going to faint when he started work on my ankle. Tears came to my eyes and Sharon, who'd been sitting next to me, slipped a warm hand into mine. "Squeeze my hand," she said. "It'll help."

So I did. I must have practically broken her hand, but she never said a word. And when I was done, she told me she was proud of me for staying so calm.

She also wrote down all of the doctor's instructions and made sure that the nurse was going to wheel me and my new crutches to the door of the emergency room and help settle me comfortably in the car.

I slept for several hours when I got home. When I woke up, Sharon and Dawn helped me limp from my room to the telephone. I called Dad and told him what had happened.

"Mary Anne! You're not badly hurt? No concussion? Did you hit your head?"

"No, they checked everything," I a.s.sured him. "It's a sprained ankle and lots of sc.r.a.pes and bruises. A badly sprained ankle and lots and lots lots of sc.r.a.pes.... Can you come home now, Daddy?" of sc.r.a.pes.... Can you come home now, Daddy?"

I almost never call him Daddy anymore.

I heard my father hesitate. Then he said, "Sweetheart, is Sharon there? May I speak to her?"

Putting my hand over the mouthpiece, I called Sharon to the phone. She wasn't far away, just in the next room to give me some privacy while I talked to my dad.

"h.e.l.lo, Richard," she said, her voice loving and calm. She listened a moment, then looked over at me and smiled slightly, smoothing my hair back.

"She was very brave. And she's going to be just fine. Don't worry, I have everything well in hand. And with Dawn as a first-cla.s.s nurse and Mary Anne being such a good patient, there's not a thing to worry about.... No, we're going to take her to her doctor in a few days...Yes."

I turned away, disappointed and fuming. I was hurt. Couldn't my father tell how hurt I was? Didn't he care? Was this the reward I got for being brave and calm in an emergency?

Tears stung my eyes. Quickly I slid the crutches back into place and turned toward my room.