“Do either of you guys dance?”
They both shook their heads.
“Too bad. We need more Napoleons.”
“Yeah,” chimed in Sean. “We’ve only got Patrick and Caroline who can dance. I’m hopeless at it.”
“I’ve never seen anyone more uncoordinated,” corroborated Caroline. “I don’t know how he manages to play lacrosse.”
“Thanks a lot! I…” Sean started indignantly, and Patrick cut him off.
“Utterly atrocious!” Patrick said, channeling Simon Cowell from American Idol.
“If you’ve finished building up my ego, can we decide what we’re going to do?” Sean demanded.
“What are you planning on doing with a bunch of dancing Napoleons?” Jim inquired. “Is everyone supposed to have a Napoleon complex?”
“Huh? Oh, wrong Napoleon. This is Dynamite, not Bonaparte.”
“Who is Napoleon Dynamite?”
Patrick stared at him as if he was from another planet. After a beat he said in his best Southern redneck voice, “Yore not from around here, are ya, boy?” He turned to Jake. “Can you watch the movie with him in the next couple of days, so he knows what we’re doing?”
“Do I really want to see this film?” complained Jim rhetorically.
Patrick squinted at him, Sean, and Jake. “Maybe two of you can make fun of the dancers and the other one can clap and get into it.”
“That might work,” mused Sean.
Jake had followed the conversation, but was now fixated on one point. He stared at Caroline. “You can dance like Napoleon Dynamite?” he asked, disbelieving.
She smiled and did a few moves while Jake looked on, amazed.
“I’m from Idaho, dude! The movie was huge there!”
Patrick couldn’t resist. “Napoleon, don't be jealous that I've been chatting online with babes all day. Besides, we both know that I'm training to be a cage fighter.”
While he hadn’t seen the movie, the nasally-geeky voice of Kip made Jim laugh along with the rest of them.
“Alright then, I guess I must watch it.”
Toby collapsed onto the shady bench outside the lodge. His faux-hawk was still stiff, upright, and very orange, but his face was beet-red. He wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his t-shirt, leaving a thin orange smear, and yelped when someone placed an ice-cold can against his neck. He grabbed it gratefully when Corinne lowered the root beer in front of his face.
She dropped beside him and took a gulp of cold water from a Dasani bottle. “Home-made peach ice cream tonight. Shelley said we’ll have to take turns cranking. They’ll have 3 ice cream makers going.”
“All peach?”
“I didn’t think of that. If they have three, we could do different flavors, huh? What’s your favorite? No, let me guess…vanilla.”
He eyed her unlovingly. “What if I said pistachio nut?”
Corinne stared at him blandly.
“OK, it’s vanilla,” he sighed. “But sometimes I like it with chocolate chips or blueberries on top,” he said, as if this was wildly adventurous.
She grinned, but cuffed him affectionately on the shoulder. “Can you guess mine?”
Toby frowned. “Bubble gum? Rocky Road? Pralines ’n’ cream?
Corinne shook her head, eyes sparkling. “Chocolate.”
“No kidding? Chocolate…I thought it would be something more…well, different.”
“Chocolate is a necessity of life. B&R’s used to have this kind with chocolate-covered cherries in it.” She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “And this little ice cream shop downtown had one that tasted like those chocolate covered orange sticks, you know, with the kind of orange jelly centers?”
“Oh, those are so good!”
“You should try the ice cream!”
“Wish I could.” He took another sip of soda. They sat in silence for a few minutes, cooling down after the hike.
“Maybe we should go ask them about doing something besides peach,” Toby suggested.
“Tell you what…did you still want to go swimming?”
“What about Jim?”
“What about…Oh, we’re going to watch the movie after dinner tonight. He’s doing something with Jake this afternoon.”
“Then, yeah, I want to go swimming…not that I couldn’t go swim by myself if you were busy,” he added, with a show of confidence.
“Of course,” she agreed with a grin. “What if you go see about the ice cream, and I’ll go check on Cal’s oven, and I’ll meet you at the pool. I really want to see how far he got.”
Toby nodded, pushing himself off the bench, and Corinne headed down the hill.
Rocky gave a happy bark, stubby tail wiggling, and ran up to her as she neared the oven. “Hey, tough guy!” He abased himself and offered his belly.
She shook her head. “Shameless. Don’t you ever get tired of having your belly scratched?” Corinne looked around for Cal, but didn’t see him.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked Rocky. He stared back at her with no change of expression. “Lord and Master? Guy with the funny clothes?” she tried. Ignoring her questions, he reached out a paw to remind her of her duties.
“OK, OK, pest!” She scratched him some more, then straightened up and walked over to the oven to check it out. Near the top, the adobe bricks were staggered to approximate something like a cone-shape to create the roof. In the center, sticking out between the top bricks, was an empty can with both ends cut out. Smoke hole, Corinne figured.
Since Cal wasn’t around, she started back toward her cabin to change into her swimsuit. Rocky trotted by her side, nose to the ground. She was thinking about what a great dog he was when he stopped, turned in a circle, hunched over, and began extruding perfect little cylinders of poop, like a Playdoh Fun Factory. Corinne wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Rocky finished, smiled up at her, and raked the ground vigorously with his back paws, tossing dirt, grass, and twigs over the pile he’d left.
“That’s revolting!” she exclaimed.
“Are you going to clean that up?” a voice to her right said. Cal ambled out of the shade.
“What?!” She noted his green and pink-striped board shorts with envy.
“Well, looks like you’re in charge of him right now, so it must be your mess to clean up.”
She forgot about the board shorts. “Not my mess, his mess,” she said, pointing at Rocky.
“No opposable thumbs. He can’t pick it up. You’ll have to do it for him.”
Corinne looked mulish.
Cal laughed. “I guess I could do it, seeing as how you haven’t been trained for the job. Me, I’ve had lots of practice. Rock here is one prolific pooper…a pooping machine, a master of…”
“I get it, I get it. TMI, man!”
He laughed again, but stopped talking and pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. He made short work of picking up the pile and tied off the bag. “What did you think of the oven?”
Corinne had been riveted by the oh-so-gross bag of poop swaying from his fingers, but she tore her eyes away. “It’s cool! I can’t wait to try the bread!”
“Me, too!” Cal agreed. “I’m going to go toss this. Is he OK with you?”
“Now that he’s emptied himself, I guess so, if he can come to the pool with me, that is.”
“Yeah, if you go to the pool, he’ll just sack out under the slide. It’s one of his favorite spots.” He didn’t tell her that Rocky had by no means emptied himself. Sometimes he had 3 or 4 good poops in him on any given day. Maybe I should give her a couple of bags, just in case, he mused. The thought made him smile, and he trudged up the hill to find a trashcan.
Chapter 22
Vote for Pedro
“I talked to Noreen. We don’t need to find another TV to watch Napoleon Dynamite. It’ll be the movie for the whole camp tonight….AND, we’re having home-made ice cream for dessert!” Jake’s mouth watered at the thought.
“What flavor
?” Jim asked.
“She didn’t say. I like them all, so I didn’t ask.” He was thinking about dinner and dessert, when Jim brought him back to Earth.
“We’ve got time to work on the Get Real stuff before dinner. Why not do it now?”
Jake’s stomach plummeted, but he’d agreed to do it. He nodded at Jim, and they made their way toward Jim’s cabin, Jake as grim as a march to the guillotine.
When he opened the door, the first thing Jake saw was Drew sitting on a bunk with his back to the wall. “I didn’t know you were in the same cabin as Drew.”
“Yeah, he’s fairly hard to put up with, but we suffer through,” Jim teased.
Drew laughed. “No harder than us trying to figure out what you’re saying, Aussie!” He put down the sketchbook he’d been holding, stood up, and stretched, his fingers nearly brushing the ceiling.
“Mind if I take a look?” Jake pointed at the sketchbook.
Drew picked it up and handed it to Jake, who began slowly turning the pages while Jim looked over his shoulder.
Jake smiled when he saw the meadow, remembering that he’d surprised himself by having a lot of fun when he’d been there. The bois d’arc pod he’d picked up was carefully packed away in his duffle.
Turning another page, he and Jim both laughed out loud at a sketch of Ron. He was standing next to the blue roan, Squidward, with an arm flung across the saddle. His bright yellow t-shirt pictured Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid, and the words “Wax-on, Wax-off”.
The next page was an intricate pencil drawing of a forest pool surrounded by ferns and towering pines. An elf was standing calf-deep in the water. Silvery blonde hair draped her shoulders and hung to her waist, a few strands covering one side of her face, the rest tucked behind pointed ears. Her eyes peaked out from behind the curtain of hair, intelligent, mischievous, laughing. With a start, Jake realized the elf was Dara.
He said the first thing that came to mind. “She’d going to love this.”
“I hope so,” Drew replied quietly. “I’m going to give it to her on the last day of camp.”
Jim drew in a breath. “You really are good!”
“Thanks. It took me a long time to get that one just right.”
Jake continued to turn pages, smiling as he recognized his friends, simply admiring other sketches, while Jim made comments from time to time. As he flipped another page, his face froze, unable to believe what he saw. It was a portrait of himself, no, two portraits, side by side. The Jake on the left scowled, dark brows drawing toward his nose, lips sneering. His legs were planted wide and his arms were crossed, shoulders hunched against the world. The Jake on the right stood at ease, one arm raised in greeting. An infectious grin spread across his face, lighting his eyes with laughter, inviting someone to come play.
Jake stared down at the sketches, his eyes blurring. Jim tried to take the sketchbook from him to get a closer look, but Jake had a death-grip on it. He raised his eyes to meet Drew’s, but couldn’t say anything around the lump in his throat.
Drew moved around Jake’s back to stand beside Jim, so that all three of them were looking at the sketch.
“Do you think I got it right?” he asked.
Jake nodded slowly, still unable to speak.
Jim pointed at the two Jakes. “Same person, different identities.”
“You mean like multiple personalities?” Drew asked in disbelief.
“No, it’s still Jake, but Jake putting on an image, a false front, versus Jake being himself.”
Jake cleared his throat. “That’s how it feels, you know,” he said softly. “Before…before, everything was so hard. Now, I don’t have to try to…well, I can just be myself. I don’t even know how it happened.”
He turned around and handed the sketchbook back to Drew. “Thank you. Thank you for…thank you,” he finished simply.
Drew turned the sketchbook around, carefully tore out the page, and gave it to Jake.
Jake’s eyes widened in surprise and he smiled with pleasure. “Thanks,” he repeated.
“You’re welcome.” Drew flipped some pages ahead. “Hey, what do you guys think of these?”
There were a number of sketches of lacrosse sticks, modern, stylized, and some looking as if they’d been made by Native Americans a couple hundred years ago. Jim and Jake looked up at Drew inquiringly.
“I was trying to think of ways to earn money, and I had this idea about t-shirts. All guys like t-shirts…look at Ron,” he grinned. “And from what Ron said, lacrosse is really growing fast as a sport. I’m good at drawing…” he was interrupted as Jake said “No kidding!” at the same time Jim said “You’re joking!”.
“…AND I figured I could come up with some cool designs that people would want to buy, maybe add some words with the pictures.”
“It’s great!”
“Brilliant! Have you shown these to Ron?” Jim asked.
“Not yet.” He abruptly slammed the sketchbook closed and headed for the door. “I’ll go ask him. Sean and Patrick, too.” He was gone on the words.
Jim and Jake stared at the open door. “Well, I guess he can get excited after all. He’s always so laid back,” Jake noted.
Jim nodded. “Time for us to get started, if we’re going to finish before dinner.”
Jake had forgotten about the Get Real stuff. He sighed, carefully laying aside the drawing from Drew.
They showed up at the lodge just as food was being carted out to the tables.
“Perfect timing!” Jake said, his eyes glowing with anticipation. He and Jim found room on the bench by Caroline, Dara, Corinne, and Toby. They were quickly joined by Sean, Patrick, and Drew, and their voices blended with the general din.
Jake helped himself to a barbecued turkey burger, roasted potatoes, green beans, and his favorite, cornbread slathered with honey butter. He kept a wary eye on Caroline, but there was plenty of food to go around. In between bites, he listened to Patrick, Sean, and Drew talk about lacrosse gear, and occasionally joined in the girls’ conversation about the unfairness of not being allowed to text at school. It didn’t seem long before he was pushing his empty plate away and wishing he’d left more room for ice cream.
“You missed a spot.” Caroline pointed at a small drop of barbecue sauce on Jake’s otherwise clean plate.
He lifted his chin at her, picked up the plate, and licked off the last bit of sauce.
“Nice table manners,” she said in a snarky voice, but then she picked up her lemonade and slurped it nosily, wiped her chin with her fist, and belched.
Jake burst out laughing and Caroline joined in, along with everyone who’d watched their exchange.
Noreen clapped her hands for quiet just as their laughter faded. “A few short announcements and then you can bring your dishes in. First, we need a bunch of volunteers to take turns cranking the ice cream makers, so we can all have dessert in time for the movie. We’ll bring the fixings out as soon as the tables are cleared. For those of you who may not have heard, the movie tonight is Napoleon Dynamite.” There was loud cheering and some groans. “Just a reminder – parents will start arriving the day after tomorrow. We don’t have a lot of extra room, so some will be doubling up in the empty cabins, others will share cabins with the counselors, and a few have chosen to stay at the motel in town.” There was a lot of murmuring from the campers. Dara, for one, couldn’t imagine her father sharing a cabin with anyone else… that is, if he came.
“Oh, and if you’re wondering what kind of ice cream, we’ll have 3 flavors; fresh peach, and by special request, chocolate and also blueberry.” Noreen walked away toward the kitchen and the noise rose again as talking resumed, benches scraped, and plates and utensils clattered.
“Will somebody please take over?” Corinne moaned. “My arm is about to fall off.”
Toby looked through the window at the clock inside the lodge. “You’ve been at it for a little less than 2 minutes.”
“Yeah, but it’s gotten a
lot harder to crank. It was easy when you were doing it.”
“Stop your whinging and move over,” Jim commanded, softening his words by taking her hand from the crank and helping her up. He sat down in her place and began vigorously turning the crank.
“Show off,” she commented, admiring the muscles in his arms and back as he worked.
Toby dropped more ice into the bucket and Sean sprinkled rock salt over it. “We have an electric one at home,” Sean said. “You still have to feed it ice and salt, but you don’t have to crank.” He leaned forward, watching the churning creamy mass through the plastic lid.
Ron came over and peered down. “How’s it coming?”
“Harder, but not done yet,” Jim responded.
“You guys got the blueberry,” he said, mesmerized by the purplish cream swirling inside the cream can. “I’m following you in when it’s done.”
Toby smiled. “You like blueberry, too?”
“It’s my second-best favorite.”
“What’s your favorite?” Sean asked.
“Bing Cherry. Have you had home-made ice cream with fresh sweet cherries?”
“Yeah, that’s Patrick’s favorite, too! We have a cherry tree back home. It’s good, but I like peanut butter and Oreo better.”
That got Corinne’s attention. “Ooooh, that sounds good! I’ve never seen that in the store.”
“I don’t think it is. We sort of made it up.”
“Sounds like a natural,” Ron said.
Sean thought Jim was cranking more slowly. “You want me to take over?”
He nodded. “Definitely getting harder…We should put Corinne back on for the last bit; she can use her left arm this time.”
He felt a soft punch in the ribs and let out a dramatic “ooof”. Corinne flashed him a satisfied smile.
“Corinne, I heard from your dad,” Ron stated. “Did you know he’s bringing your little sister on Wednesday?”
“Uh-huh. I got a call from him and Allison texted me…my mom and step-dad aren’t coming though, are they?” she added anxiously.
“Not that I’ve heard. And I should have heard by now. We did invite them.”
Corinne nodded rapidly, kept nodding longer than necessary. “Well, no big deal. It’s not like I expected her to come, especially if my dad’s going to be here, and who knows what my step-dad has planned, he probably has some important…” she ran on, as Toby watched in fascination and Sean kept cranking. Jim finally reached out and put a hand on her arm and she stopped talking immediately. She was breathing hard, looking from Jim to Ron. Taking a deep breath, she started again, this time at normal speed.