The Sign in the Smoke (Nancy Drew Diaries #12)(2)

“Kids?” asked Ned.

Bess shrugged. “Well, Camp Larksong was in business for twenty-three years, so . . .” She turned to me, her face as eager as a puppy’s. “What do you think?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bess stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “I have so many happy memories of this place! I was sort of thinking of applying to be a counselor on my own, but it would be so much more fun with you guys!”

George looked at her cousin. “You really think I could take care of a bunkful of children and not lose my mind?”

“You’d have help,” Bess admonished her. “We’d each be assigned a CIT, counselor-in-training, who’s a few years younger. And of course, we’d all be there to help each other. Besides”—she pointed an accusing finger at George—“you like children. You’re a great babysitter! Remember when you watched cousin Gemma for the day and taught her how to code?”

George’s lips turned up. “Well, she was an exceptional kid. She had a natural talent!”

“I guess we’d have activities to keep them busy, George,” I said, trying to imagine the three of us relaxing by the lake in the photo. “It’s not like we’d be starting from scratch.”

“And the activities are really fun,” Bess went on. “I know neither of you went to summer camp, but it’s the greatest! Swimming and hiking and playing capture the flag and . . .”

I looked at George. Bess was right, I’d never been to summer camp . . . but it did sound really fun. And definitely more exciting than sitting in our backyard rereading Harry Potter with my feet in a kiddie pool, which was basically last summer. (When I wasn’t sleuthing, that is.) “It would only be a week or two,” I said quietly.

Bess looked at me, her eyes bulging in excitement as she realized she’d gained an ally. “Ten days,” she squealed. “The mini-sessions are just one week of camp, and three days’ training. That’s not so bad, right? Even if you hated it, it’s only ten days.”

The silence that followed was broken by a crunch! We all turned to see Ned finishing up his waffle cone. “I’m sold,” he said after he swallowed. “But unfortunately, I’m using the summer to bang out my science requirements. You’re on your own, Nance.”

Bess smiled at him. “You weren’t invited anyway,” she said. “It’s a girls’ camp. What do you say?” she asked, looking eagerly from me to George.

“I’m . . . in,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. A week at camp! It was the last way I thought I’d spend my summer, and yet it was somehow perfect. I looked back down at the photo on the brochure. It looked . . . peaceful.

Bess squealed and turned to George, squeezing her arm. “It’s on you, cuz,” she said, looking George in the eye. “You know this would be fun. Come on. Everything I suggest for us turns out to be fun!”

I held up my hand. “Actually . . .”

Ned raised a finger in the air. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to object to that one too.”

George laughed.

Bess pretended to glare at me. “We’re still all alive, anyway,” she pointed out. Then she turned back to George. “Cuz, will you make my summer? Come on, say you’re in.”

George took the brochure from me and looked down at the photo. A slow smile crept across her face. “Okay,” she said. “But if I get a bunkful of princessy mean girls, I am coming for you in the night, Bess.”

“I can live with that,” she said quickly. “I’m fast. I know how to hide. Anyway, yay!” She grabbed me suddenly around the waist with one hand, pulling in George with the other. “Group hug! We’re headed back to Camp Larksong!”



Six weeks and endless application forms later, I sat on my bed, cramming in my last two T-shirts into my camp duffel bag. Our housekeeper, Hannah, had helped me sew labels bearing my name onto all my clothes. Eight shirts, six pairs of shorts, two pairs of jeans, pj’s, one casual dress—I was officially ready to go!

And not a minute too soon, because as soon as I zipped up my bag, I heard the toot of Bess’s horn in the driveway. I hefted my bag onto my shoulder—whoa, I hope I don’t have to carry this far—and maneuvered it down the stairs and into the front hall. Dad and Hannah, having heard the horn too, were standing there waiting to say good-bye.

Dad grinned at me. “I can’t believe you’re going to camp,” he said, shaking his head. “You were never a camp type. You were a stick-your-nose-in-a-book type.”

“It looks really fun, Dad,” I said. “Besides, it’s a great excuse to spend some time outside and get to know some new people.”

He nodded. “I know you’ll have fun,” he said, and leaned in for a hug.

“Don’t forget to eat,” Hannah advised as I finished up Dad’s hug and went to hug her. “You’ll be running around a lot!”

I chuckled. “Well, I can guarantee the food won’t be as good as yours,” I promised. “I’ll miss you both. Write to me?”

Dad pulled out some folded paper and a preaddressed envelope from his shirt pocket. “Ready to go,” he promised. “Don’t worry, you won’t miss any of the big news from River Heights.”