Camp Confidential 06 - RSVP Read Free Page B

we’re in a Skittles commercial!”
    With a big guffaw, Chelsea stopped walking, too. The hood of her jacket fell back as she lifted her chin, imitating her mother. The two of them stood in the falling snow, shouting out flavors:
    “Lime!”
    “Grape!”
    “Sour apple!”
    “Bubble gum!”
    By the time they got in the car to drive to school, their faces were half-frozen. Chelsea experimentally touched her cheeks and sighed with contentment as the heater began to defrost her chin and nose.
    The houses and trees were covered with snow, creating a beautiful winter wonderland. Chelsea’s mom said, “It would be fun to see New York like this, Chelsea. Maybe you girls will go skating at Rockefeller Center. Are ice skates on Natalie’s list of things to bring?”
    “I don’t remember,” Chelsea replied. “She had a lot of lists.” The envelope containing the invitation from Natalie was about twice as thick as the one from Camp Lakeview, even counting the map to Village Bowl and the RSVP card and envelope that had been enclosed.
    Her mother smiled. “Natalie’s working hard to make sure you have a good time. I’m sure she’s cooked up all sorts of exciting things for you to do.”
    Chelsea shifted uncomfortably. She knew her mom was trying to make it easy to talk about the weekend, but Chelsea still felt funny discussing it.
    “Mom, I know you want me to go,” she said. “But those girls are different from me. They’re really immature. I probably wouldn’t have a very good time.”
    Her mom braked at the red light on Emerson Street. Chelsea’s school was only two blocks away. She was glad. She wanted to get out of the car so they wouldn’t have to talk about this anymore.
    “I thought you wanted to go back to Camp Lakeview this summer,” her mom reminded her. “Some of those girls will probably be your bunkmates again. It seems like it would be fun to catch up and see what’s been happening with them before next June.”
    “Maybe I won’t go this summer after all,” Chelsea said, before she had really thought through what she was about to say. She caught her breath. Not go to camp? Then she shrugged. “Maybe I’ll stay home. I could even get a job!”
    Her mom tousled her hair. “A twelve-year-old with a job?”
    “Sure. So I could, you know, make money,” Chelsea said excitedly, imagining herself behind a cash register at Limited Too at the mall. Or maybe she could work for Mr. Markham, who owned a dog grooming business. She’d love to bathe frisky little puppies and give poodles fancy haircuts!
    “What do you need money for, Chelse?” her mom asked, her expression growing more serious.
    “Oh, you know, to help out.” She shrugged her shoulders, wondering if she had suggested something that was wrong. Her mom had such an odd look on her face. Was she angry? “So you guys don’t have to worry so much.”
    “We aren’t worried,” her mom assured her. She reached out and brushed a tendril of hair away from Chelsea’s forehead. “Well, we’re a little concerned. But that’s something for us to worry about, sweetie. Not you. Everything is going to work out. Just have a little faith.”
    Suddenly Chelsea felt like crying. She didn’t really know why. Her moods went up, then plummeted like the waterslides at Wet World. It seemed she never knew how she was going to feel from one moment to the next.
    “Okay, Mom, I’ll have faith,” she promised. She nodded and smiled at her, and then she looked out the window. At this time on weekday mornings, the streets were always clogged with SUVs and minivans brimming with kids. It was pretty much a madhouse, and Chelsea almost envied the students who lived far enough away to take the bus. The last bus she had ridden had been the one home from camp, and it was fun to participate in the laughter and singing. She’d even listened to one girl’s iPod for over an hour.
    Their SUV pulled up to the curb. As she gathered up her backpack, Chelsea spotted