CHAPTER ONE Slap! Jenna winced as her palm connected with the side of her neck. Her fingers searched for the crawly thing that had tickled her skin, but when she drew her brown, sweat-glazed palm toward her face, there was no flattened bug. Insects, especially the flying ones, always pulled tricky disappearing acts, and for a moment, Jenna envied the mosquito that had seemed to vanish into thin air. She, too, wished she could disappear. She would give her troop leader the biggest, itchiest bug bite imaginable and then poof--she would flee to that secret otherworld where insects went in the milliseconds between when they tickled a person''s neck and dodged the resultant slap of death. It was the last leg of a three-day summer camping trip through the sticky woods of Massachusetts, and Jenna was ready to go home. She yanked at her neckerchief and then hooked an index finger between the fabric and her flesh to loosen it a little. When she''d begged her mom to join Cottontail Scouts, she hadn''t known that the uniforms would be this uncomfortable.
The khaki shorts were as stiff as cardboard, the required knee-high wool socks made her legs itch, and she thought the neckerchief was totally unnecessary. She imagined herself bursting through the front door of her home the next morning, where she would peel off her grimy scout uniform and announce to her mom and grandpa that she would not be returning to Cottontail Scouts because the uniforms were stupid. At least, that''s what she''d been telling herself all morning because the truth was much harder to swallow. She yanked at the fabric around her throat again and wondered if the neckerchief was too tight or if her throat was just getting ready for a good cry. Jenna loved the outdoors and had always felt at ease in the woods . until two days ago. She wasn''t quite ready to say it out loud, but her desire to go home probably had less to do with the required uniform and more to do with her new troop and its leader. In a matter of two days, Troop Leader Heather Winslow--a pale woman with stiff lips and a pinched face--had managed to steal Jenna''s joy of the outdoors.
The woman wasn''t warm or friendly. Her answers were short, and her face was made up of sharp angles that refused to curve into a smile whenever Jenna was in her presence. She had managed to make Jenna feel unwelcome in the great outdoors. Jenna wiggled her shoulders, trying to shake off the bad energy from her troop leader, but that negative feeling was quickly replaced by another . The unsettling feeling of being watched. "It''s too quiet," Jenna said. Silence had shrouded the woods ever since Cottontail Scouts Troop 3122 set out earlier that morning. With bared teeth and curled fingers, her best friend, Reese, arched her thick, dark eyebrows and said, "That means a predator''s close.
" Ahead of them, their fellow scouts giggled and talked, completely unaware of potential danger nearby. During a rare moment of quiet from Reese, Jenna had picked up on the lack of outdoor noise, and now she couldn''t unhear the silence. It was like someone had put a muzzle on the natural world. It unnerved Jenna. But her best friend wasn''t bothered by the silence and filled the quiet with the sound of her own voice. Reese''s nonstop chatter made Jenna think of the rude nickname that Reese''s two older sisters, Tiara and Candace, used regularly: Runny-Mouth Reese. Jenna had never repeated the name out loud, but in her private thoughts, she was willing to admit this one truth about her very best friend: Sometimes . Reese really did talk too much.
As Jenna ran a hand across the back of her neck to chase away the prickling feeling, she was actually glad that Reese talked too much and would rescue them from the eerie silence. "Oh! I forgot to tell you," Reese shouted. "Tiara and Candace said if we get stuck with lockers on the bottom floor near the gym, we should try to switch with someone else." Jenna edged around a partially fallen log that blocked the trail, accidentally bumping shoulders with Reese. "Why?" Jenna asked. Reese''s eyebrows shot up as if the answer were obvious. "Uhhh, because all the bottom-floor lockers end up smelling like cafeteria food," Reese said. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she hopped over a tangle of branches.
"Tiara''s coat always used to smell like chicken nuggets when she came home from school," she added. Tiara and Candace were now in high school, but all summer they had been sharing their laundry list of Sturbridge Middle School dos and don''ts with Reese, who then passed the vital information along to Jenna. Of course, Jenna was glad for the sacred knowledge, but Tiara and Candace had made middle school sound scary and impossible. She wondered how easy it would really be to swap lockers, especially on the first day, when their new school was double the size of what she and Reese were used to. Reese squealed and threw her hands in the air as she skirted a trio of green leaves. Sure that Reese was overreacting to a bug, Jenna grabbed hold of the leaves to inspect them. "No! Don''t touch it!" Reese shouted. Jenna let go of the leaves in a panic and bounced on her toes.
"What? What?!" she screamed. "Hold your hands out!" Reese said. A few of their fellow scouts turned to look at them, but Jenna didn''t have time to explain what was wrong. She didn''t even know what was wrong, but she trusted her best friend completely and positioned her hands under Reese''s thermos to catch its droplets of lukewarm water. As Reese struggled to shake more water from the bottle, Jenna''s stomach tightened. The look on her best friend''s face confirmed her fear: She''d touched something poisonous, and water wasn''t going to cure it. "This isn''t gonna help, is it?" Jenna asked. Reese shook her head.
"I don''t think so." "Which one did I touch?" Reese''s lips tightened as she tried not to look worried. Then she mumbled something that sounded a lot like poison ivy. Jenna''s shoulders stiffened. "Are you sure?" But Jenna knew it was a stupid question. Reese might not know when to be quiet, but she could spot plants and trees faster than a professional horticulturist. Jenna didn''t wait for Reese to answer. She tightened her fists and kicked at the air.
"Cool!" she yelled. Even though her situation was very uncool. When most people touch poison ivy, they develop an irritating red rash. But not Jenna. Her poison ivy usually turned into blisters that eventually required a trip to the hospital. The thought of returning home with poison ivy that left her scratching at her brown skin until it was pink and raw irritated her whole soul. Jenna adjusted her hat. A lukewarm whisper of air dried the sweat that had collected near her hairline.
She gently patted her braids and then pulled her hat back onto her head. It was early, but the day was already warm and sticky, and the heat would only get worse. Jenna looked up at the sky searching for clouds through the spaces in the canopy of trees. She could use a downpour right about now. She''d rather be wet than have poison ivy. But there wasn''t a single cloud in sight. Just a steady stream of warm, stubborn sunshine. "It''ll be okay," Reese said.
"When we get to camp, we''ll wash your hands and it will be fine. And maybe we''ll stumble across some jewelweed." "What is that? Will it help?" Jenna asked. Reese shrugged. "Some people think it helps," she said. "Be on the lookout for orange flowers." Jenna inhaled and tried to calm her irritation, but she choked midway through her deep breath. She covered her mouth and nose with the hand that wasn''t slowly festering with poison ivy.
"What''s that smell?" she asked. Reese turned her nose up to the wind and sniffed a few times. Her nose crinkled. "I don''t know. Rain?" she asked. But the scent that hung in the air did not smell like any rain that Jenna had ever smelled. The scent was sour--like sweat and unwashed hair. It was strong and Jenna was sure she could taste it on her tongue.
The sharp sound of a whistle punctured the air. Troop Leader Winslow''s voice barely reached them, but Jenna heard the words "Keep up." She and Reese rolled their eyes at each other and continued walking behind their fellow scouts. Reese, of course, was always ready to fill the silence with her own voice. "Oh, did I ever tell you what it''s called when you can smell the rain? It''s called petrichor. I don''t know if I''m pronouncing it right because I read it in a book but--" Talk of the weather made Jenna think of Reese''s dad, Mr. Morgan, who was a meteorologist at the local news station. "Are you going to your dad''s next weekend?" Jenna asked.
She knew she had cut Reese off, but sometimes that was the only way to be part of the conversation. Reese''s parents had separated several months before, and now she and her sisters had to spend weekends with their dad, which left Jenna bored and lonely on Saturdays and Sundays. She hoped Reese wouldn''t have to go. It was a selfish wish . but she also knew that her best friend didn''t like the living arrangement either, so that made her feel a little less self-absorbed. "I don''t know. My mom said he might have to travel to report on that hurricane ." Reese snapped her fingers.
"Brandy? I think it''s Brandy. So we might get to stay home next weekend." "At least you''ll get to.