Free Campfire Cookies by Martha Freeman

and their mom, Kendall,” I explained. “Here. You can see if you want.”
    Dear Lucy,
    Your camp can’t possibly be eight weeks long, can it? Did you know there are 1,344 hours in eight weeks? I used the calculator on my phone.
    I have hired another girl to come over to wrangle the triplets starting tomorrow. Meanwhile, to preserve the collective sanity, Arlo, Mia, and Levi are watching a lot of SpongeBob.
    Anyway, cross your fingers about this other girl. As you know, my darlings can be a handful.
    They have drawn some pictures for you, which are enclosed.
    Have fun at camp!
    Love,
    Kendall
    P.S. Seventy-two hours down. Only 1,272 to go.
    â€œWow—I think she really misses you,” Emma said.
    I giggled. “I know. And look at the pictures the kids sent.”
    The first one showed what looked like an openmouthed brown animal with big teeth. It was standing on its hind legs and leaning over a tiny human stick figure with a yellow blob on his head. The blob might’ve been hair. A speech bubble like the ones in cartoons said, “Hep!!!!”
    â€œIs that supposed to be Arlo?” Emma asked.
    I nodded. “That’s the way he draws. And I think the letters are supposed to say, ‘help.’ ”
    â€œOh, I get it,” Emma said. “He wants you to save him from another wolf.”
    I studied the picture again. “Or possibly a bear?”
    â€œEither way, he definitely sees you as fierce,” Emma said.
    I handed her the next picture. It reminded me of Olivia’s flag—only don’t ever tell her I said that, okay? The drawing took up the whole page—a giant face with red lips, blue eyes, black lashes, and pink dots for nostrils. From the eyes to the bottom of the page there were lines of little circles in every color.
    â€œTears?” Emma guessed.
    â€œMia can be kind of a drama queen,” I said.
    The last one was from Levi. Instead of drawing his message, he had written it in red crayon: “Com bak rit now!”
    Emma laughed. “Do you miss them, too?”
    â€œKind of,” I said. “But when I’m busy here, I don’t think of them that much.”
    â€œAre you going to write back?”
    â€œSure,” I said. “But I bet this is the last letter I get from them. When the new babysitter comes, they’ll forget all about me.”
    Only I turned out to be wrong.
    The Fourth of July was the next week, and on the day after that I got another fat envelope. There was no letter from Kendall this time, but there were two drawings that I think were supposed to be fireworks, along with another note from Levi. This one said: “Plis com back rit now!”
    I wondered if the added “plis” showed the new babysitter’s influence. Maybe she was teaching them good manners.
    Before dinner that night, I wrote a reply.
    Dear Arlo, Mia, and Levi,
    Thank you for the beautiful drawings. I have tacked them up above my bunk bed so I can admire them every day. Levi, I am afraid I can’t come back yet because camp isn’t over. I am glad you miss me, though, because I miss you, too.
    Yesterday was Fourth of July. Buck,the camp director, does not believe in fireworks because (he says) they spook the cattle. So instead of fireworks we had a barbecue outside. But guess what? Nature decided there were going to be fireworks whether Buck wanted them or not, and she provided a huge storm.
    It was really pretty looking across the desert into the sunset and seeing chains of lightning as tall as the sky. The loud cracks scared some kids but not me. In the end, the rain part lasted only a few minutes, but we still had to move the picnic inside.
    Boo-hoo.
    How do you like the new babysitter? I am sure she is really nice and makes good snacks and plays good games. Even so, please don’t forget me.
    Tell your mom and dad hello. Remember too much SpongeBob turns tender brains to mush.
    Love,
    Lucy

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