Politically Incorrect Page 8
“Priya, it’s my turn to use the mirror,” Sarah said, clutching her makeup bag.
“Can’t you see that I’m brushing my hair?” Priya replied.
“You’ve been brushing it for an hour,” Jenna teased.
“Quit it, guys,” Sloan said, irritated. “We don’t want the press to walk in here and see everyone bickering.”
“Sorry,” Priya said and stepped out of Sarah’s way.
“I still can’t believe we’re going to be in the National Gazette,” Brynn said brightly. “All my friends back home are going to be so psyched.”
Sloan smiled, thinking about how the Gazette readers were going to learn all about the great things Camp Walla Walla was doing these days.
“Has anyone seen Chelsea? I wanted to borrow her tortoiseshell hair clip,” Joanna asked.
Sloan was concerned when no one answered. After Chelsea had ducked out of the nature walk yesterday, no one had seen that much of her. Sloan thought it was kind of odd that Chelsea would go missing at a time like this. The interview was about to take place, and Chelsea had an obligation to be there—she was cochair of the Green Committee, after all! A knock at the door interrupted Sloan’s thoughts.
“They’re here!” Sloan said in an excited whisper. “Everyone act normal, okay?”
“Just not too normal, or else we might scare them,” joked Jenna.
Sloan opened the door to the tent and saw a smiling Dr. Steve standing next to a young woman with dark black hair and tanned skin. Behind them was a short, stocky man with a very professional-looking camera in his hands.
“Hello, Sloan. May we come in?” Dr. Steve asked.
“Yes, of course!”
Dr. Steve escorted the National Gazette crew into the tent, where all the girls stood in a group, with sincere grins plastered across their faces.
“Ladies, this is Miss Lorraine Gonzales, a reporter with the Gazette,” Dr. Steve said.
“Hello, Miss Gonzales,” the girls said in unison.
Lorraine flashed a beautiful, soft smile. “Nice to meet all of you.”
“And this is her photographer, Lloyd.” Dr. Steve pointed to the short, stocky man, who waved hello.
“Thank you again for having us here,” Miss Gonzales said to Dr. Steve.
“It’s our pleasure,” Dr. Steve said. “And I’d love for you to meet Sloan, who is running the planning committee for the Green Festival.”
“Welcome to Walla Walla!” Sloan said with enthusiasm as she shook Miss Gonzales’s hand.
“We hear that the president’s daughter, Tricia, is staying here for the festival. Is that true?” Miss Gonzales asked, looking around the group of girls and trying to spot her.
Sloan swallowed hard. The interview was apparently starting right now!
“Yes, it is,” Sloan responded. “But she and another camper are staying in a separate bunk.”
“Interesting.” Miss Gonzales scribbled something down on a small steno pad, then returned her attention to Sloan.
“I’d really like some time with her,” Miss Gonzales said, her soft smile slowly disappearing. “Find out what her experience has been like. You know, big fish in a small pond, that kind of thing.”
Sloan glanced at Dr. Steve, whose face was slowly turning pink with what she imagined was anxiety. Sloan could feel her palms getting sweaty, too. She had to redirect this interview with Miss Gonzales so that the Green Festival would get some attention.
“Um, sure. I could set that up,” Sloan said. “But wouldn’t you like to hear more about our Green Festival? My friends and I have been working hard to coordinate it.”
Miss Gonzales scribbled some more notes. “Actually, Sloan, I do have some questions about that.”
Sloan breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. What would you like to know?”
“We received this anonymous tip yesterday.” Miss Gonzales reached into her large satchel and pulled out a folder. She opened it and gave Sloan two pieces of paper. “Can you shed some light on this, please?”
Sloan’s mouth went dry as she reviewed the contents of the folder. One of the papers was a short e-mail to the National Gazette, and the other was a color printout of pictures of a filthy garbage bag filled with nonbiodegradable refuse outside one of Walla Walla’s bunks.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Sloan stammered.
“Isn’t it awfully unusual for a camp that’s committed to being good to the environment to dispose of its trash in this haphazard fashion?” Miss Gonzales asked.
All the girls started whispering nervously as Sloan stood there, completely still. Lloyd went to take a photo, but Miss Gonzales put her hands on the lens and shook her head.
Dr. Steve took the papers out of Sloan’s hands and looked at them worriedly.
Jenna snuck up behind him and glanced over his shoulder. “Isn’t this in front of Natalie and Tricia’s bunk?” she gasped. Jenna immediately put her hands over her mouth, like she couldn’t believe she had just ratted her friends out.
Miss Gonzales jotted down more notes as Sloan’s head began to throb.
“Yes, but this has to be a mistake,” Sloan said.
“Sloan’s right. Neither Natalie nor Tricia would be so careless,” Priya piped up.
“It’s true, they’re both very conscientious girls,” Dr. Steve added.
“Well, why don’t we go talk with them?” Miss Gonzales suggested. “I’m sure they can clear this up.”
Sloan’s body felt like it was melting. “Okay.”
Miss Gonzales, Lloyd, Dr. Steve, and Sloan left the bunk and walked silently to Natalie and Tricia’s tent. The closer they got, the more Sloan felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach. How could this be happening to her? She had put all her heart and soul into planning the festival, which was only two days away.
Now it seemed as though Miss Gonzales was going to write an article based on this incriminating photo and e-mail and completely ignore all the good she and her fellow campers had been doing. At this point, Sloan just hoped that meeting the president’s daughter would make Miss Gonzales forget all about this minor scandal.
When they got to the tent, Sloan was relieved to see that the garbage bag was no longer there. Still, Dr. Steve seemed rather irked when he knocked on the door. Natalie answered it with an unassuming smile.
“Can we have a word with you, Natalie?” Dr. Steve asked.
Natalie appeared to detect the tension in the air and her smile vanished. “Sure. What about?”
Dr. Steve handed Natalie the papers.
“I told them that it was all a mistake. That you and Tricia weren’t responsible for this,” Sloan said, willing Natalie to agree with her.
Natalie’s face went completely white as she looked at the photos. “I . . . um . . . well . . . this isn’t a mistake. The trash is mine. I’m sorry.”
Sloan couldn’t believe it. Natalie was responsible for all of this.
“I wish I could explain right now, but it’s all so . . . complicated,” Natalie added, her voice wobbly.
Miss Gonzales wrote something in her notebook and then clicked the top of her pen. “Is Tricia here? We’d like to speak with her, too.”
“Tricia and one of her security guards took her dog, Paris, to the vet,” Natalie explained, her voice wavering. “She came down with a bad case of fleas or something.”
Dr. Steve looked at the reporter and her photographer. “Well, why don’t we go to my office and talk first,” he insisted. “I’m sure we can clear this up in a jiff.”
“That’s fine,” Miss Gonzales replied.
“Natalie, I’ll send Jasmine over when we’re ready for you, so maybe you could take this time to sort everything out in your mind,” he instructed.
Sloan’s heart ached as Natalie nodded her head, her lower lip trembling. In fact, Sloan was hurting so much that she couldn’t look at Natalie any longer. As Dr. Steve, Miss Gonzales, and Lloyd walked toward his office, Sloan turned and ran away, even though
Natalie was calling out to her, asking her not to leave.
After Sloan went back to the bunk and explained to her friends what had just happened, she decided to sit under a tree near the lake and watch the CITs teach the younger campers how to dive. She hoped it would relax her and clear her head. As a light breeze swirled around her, she thought about Natalie and what may have possessed her to act this carelessly. Didn’t Camp Walla Walla’s reputation mean anything to her?
“Mind if I sit with you?”
Sloan looked up and saw Miles towering above her. His eyes were glistening more than the water in the morning sun. Although she was happy to see him, Sloan wasn’t sure now was a good time for them to talk.
“I’m kind of in a bad mood, Miles. I don’t think I’ll be good company,” she replied.
Miles sat down next to her anyway and smiled. “I can put up with it.”
Sloan laughed a little. “So where are you supposed to be right now?”
“Archery, but Ben sent me to get more arrows,” Miles said. “This is just a pit stop.”
“I see.” Sloan could feel her eyes tearing up, so she quickly turned away.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Miles asked.
Sloan thought about the second Green Festival meeting and how smart Miles’s ideas were. He would probably be able to give her some advice on what to do in this situation.
“Actually, I do. Thanks,” Sloan said, slowly turning back to him.
Miles smiled again. “Go ahead.”
For the next couple of minutes, Sloan filled him in on the day’s scandalous events. Miles sat quietly and listened. When Sloan was finished, his eyes widened, like he’d just heard the camp was closing down or something.
“I just can’t believe it. How could she do such a thing?” Sloan said, her voice quaking.
Miles reached over, took her hand in his, and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I have no idea. I mean, I don’t know Natalie that well, but she doesn’t seem like someone who’d pull something shady like this.”
“Yeah, but she’s been acting so strange lately,” Sloan said, sniffling. “Chelsea has been, too. I guess I just don’t know what to think or who to trust.”
Miles laced his fingers through Sloan’s. “Maybe you should just sit them both down and talk it out.”
Sloan really liked how cool Miles’s skin felt against hers, and how supportive he was being. She was glad that she had decided to confide in him.
“Natalie tried to get me to hear her out, but I couldn’t. I just ran off,” she explained. “Anyway, I’m not sure I’m ready to face her. I’m still pretty mad.”
“What are you mad about? That Natalie did something stupid, or that she got caught by a reporter?” Miles asked.
“Well, getting caught wasn’t Natalie’s fault,” Sloan said. “Someone here e-mailed those pictures to the Gazette.”
“Right. Whoever did that has some major issues.”
“But we’re never going to know who sent the e-mail. It came from an anonymous account.”
“Good point.” Miles furrowed his brow.
“I guess I’m most mad about the festival and the camp getting bad press. So many people are going to be hurt by this,” Sloan said sadly.
“Do you think there might be a way to get the reporter not to print it?” Miles suggested.
Sloan exhaled deeply. “How are we going to do that? Miss Gonzales doesn’t seem easily swayed.”
Miles let go of Sloan’s hand and stood up. Then he began to pace back and forth, thinking hard. After a minute, he stopped in his tracks. “What if we tell them that the trash bag is only a prop for an anti-litter skit that Natalie is producing for the festival?”
That settles it. Miles is officially boyfriend material.
“I love that idea,” Sloan said, beaming with joy.
“Why don’t I run to the counselor’s bunk on my way back to archery and talk with Natalie while you go stall Dr. Steve?”
“He’s probably still with Miss Gonzales. I don’t think he’d appreciate me barging in on him.”
“You’re probably right.” Miles paused for a moment. “Why don’t you run to the resource center and send him an e-mail? That way it’ll pop up on his BlackBerry right away and distract him.”
Sloan shook her head. “I’d rather not do that with other people lurking around.”
“I see,” Miles said.
“Wait a sec. Chelsea snuck her laptop into camp,” Sloan remembered.
“Do you think she’ll let you use it?” Miles asked.
“She hasn’t been around all day, so I’m not sure,” Sloan replied. “But I do know where she keeps it.”
“This is an emergency. She’ll understand,” Miles assured her.
Sloan couldn’t agree more with Miles. This was an emergency, and besides, Chelsea knew how much the Green Festival meant to her. There was no way she’d get mad over this, given the circumstances.
“Well, we’d better hurry up. We’ve got no time to lose!” Sloan exclaimed.
chapter THIRTEEN
“So, Natalie, can you explain why all this garbage was found outside yours and Tricia’s bunk?” Dr. Steve asked gently.
This was, without a doubt, one of the worst days of Natalie’s life. When Natalie had cleaned up Tricia’s mess a couple days ago, she had had no idea it would land her and Camp Walla Walla in so much trouble. The only thing Natalie was guilty of was waiting until she could find a golf cart so that she could dispose of the trash bag properly because it had been way too heavy to carry.
However, when Natalie had been shown those incriminating pictures by the National Gazette reporter earlier today, she’d known that she couldn’t tell the truth about who was the real source of the trash. As one of the most well-known public figures in the country, Tricia’s image needed to be protected—Natalie knew this from having a movie star father.
Natalie also knew that in most of her dad’s movies, there was a hero that came to the rescue in the end. A short while ago, Miles had shown up at her tent with a masterful plan that he and Sloan had hatched, which was totally going to save her butt.
“Yes, I can,” she replied. “You see, I was working on a skit about how littering affects the environment. So I collected all this refuse to use as props.”
“What about Tricia? How was she involved?” Miss Gonzales inquired, still not satisfied with Natalie’s explanation.
Natalie steeled herself and took a deep breath. “She wasn’t. In fact, since I couldn’t attend the planning meetings, I figured it would be cool to keep the skit a surprise until the start of the festival. That’s why I was kind of secretive when you first asked me.”
Dr. Steve beamed with appreciation. He believed this story hook, line, and sinker. “I knew there was a reasonable explanation, Natalie. I’m proud of you.”
Natalie wasn’t too proud of herself right now. Actually, she felt terrible for accepting Dr. Steve’s praise when Sloan was the one who had gotten her out of this mess.
“Can you tell us a bit more about the skit? It sounds like it could be avant-garde,” Miss Gonzales said curiously.
Natalie gulped. Apparently she wasn’t out of this mess yet—Miles hadn’t given her any details beyond what she’d already told them. Still, she was relieved that Miss Gonzales had taken the bait, too.
“Oh, it is. Actually, the skit combines . . . interpretive dance and music wiiiiith . . . performance poetry.”
She wanted to smack herself on the forehead. Interpretive dance and performance poetry? It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
“Wow, I can’t wait to see that!” Dr. Steve practically cheered.
Natalie let out a small sigh. She couldn’t wait for the summer to be over.
By the time Natalie finally got up the courage to walk into her old bunk later that evening, everyone was so busy getting ready for dinner, they barely noticed her at first.
“Hey, guys,” she said apprehensively.
Natalie swallowed hard. This was going to be more difficult than she’d thought.
“I wanted to know . . . if it was okay for me to have my old bed back. The mattress in the counselor’s bunk is kind of lumpy.”
Actually, Natalie was being honest about this. She hadn’t been able to get comfortable in bed yesterday and had woken up several times throughout the night.
Priya rolled her eyes and Joanna let out a sarcastic laugh. Jenna looked down at her sneakers, Sarah furrowed her brow, and Brynn’s cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink. Chelsea looked as though she might cry.
As she looked at the pained expressions on her best friends’ faces—except for Sloan, who was currently MIA—Natalie realized that she had to tell them the truth about Tricia, regardless of whether it tarnished the girl’s image. She couldn’t risk losing the friendships she had made at camp. That was asking way too much of her.
After a drawn out silence, Jenna finally spoke up. “Natalie, we just don’t understand how you could have been so reckless.”
“Guys, if you’ll just listen to me, I’ll explain everything,” Natalie pleaded.
“This better be good,” Priya said sharply.
“Yeah, you really let us down, Nat,” Sarah added.
Natalie braced herself for what she was about to do.
“I know that I initially admitted that the trash was mine, but . . . I made it up,” she began.
“What do you mean?” Brynn asked. “You lied?”
“Yes, I did.” Natalie swallowed hard. “But I did it to protect someone. Someone important.”
Jenna looked perplexed. “Wait, are you saying that all of that junk was . . . Tricia’s?”
Natalie took a deep breath. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Wow,” said Joanna, her mouth hanging open in shock.
“Tricia kind of has a cleanliness problem, and I’ve been picking up after her for the past few days,” Natalie went on. “I knew I couldn’t admit that to the reporters. They’d plaster it all over the place.”