Ivy and Bean Make the Rules Page 2

  At long tables, rows of girls were bent over tiny threads, knotting and knotting. Ivy nudged Bean and whispered, “Crafts?”

  “Friendship bracelets,” Bean whispered back. She looked up and down the rows for Nancy. There she was. She was crouched over a table piled with colored threads. She was knotting like crazy. She was knotting so hard that her tongue was sticking out of her mouth.

  “You want to do that?” whispered Ivy.

  Bean looked at the knotters again. It was real camp. In real camp, they made friendship bracelets. “Yeah,” Bean whispered.

  Ivy nodded. “Okay, if you want to.”

  Unfortunately, nodding let loose a big fluff of beard. And very unfortunately, Ivy breathed it in and began coughing. And extra-unfortunately, three Girl Power 4-Ever campers glanced up and saw a wolf and a choking Santa peeking in the window. And then, really quite unfortunately, they screamed, “OMG! OMG! WHAT WAS THAT?” and Nancy looked up.

  But fortunately, Ivy and Bean were long gone by that time. By that time, they were racing wildly through the trees, zip zip zip, tearing off the wolf mask and the Santa hat and beard. They reached Camp Flaming Arrow and flung themselves into their tent. Then they lay there, gasping.

  “Time for crafts!” Bean wheezed.

  Since Ivy was still choking on Santa fuzz, Bean ran to her house to get string. She came back to Camp Flaming Arrow a few minutes later holding twelve neat coils of colored string.

  “Where’d you get those?” asked Ivy.

  Bean said, “One of the best things about Nancy being in camp is that she isn’t in her room.”

  “Won’t she mind?”

  “Nah,” said Bean. “She has tons of it. She won’t even notice.”

  “Didn’t you just say that about the mask and the Santa?” asked Ivy. She looked at the strings. “How do you make a friendship bracelet, anyway?”

  Bean felt like a real counselor. “The first thing you do is pick your colors,” she said.

  They picked their colors. The twelve neat coils of string turned into a brightly colored mound of string.

  “Next, you put all six of your strings together and tie a knot,” said Bean. She was pretty sure that was what you did, anyway. She looked at Ivy’s knot. “Very good,” she said. “Now, you make more knots, one in each string.” The more knots, the better, she figured.

  “More knots?” asked Ivy. Making knots took a lot of concentration.

  “That’s what friendship bracelets are all about. Knots,” said Bean briskly. She started knotting her own strings. Knot, knot, knot. Knot. Wait. She had tied one string to another. Bummer.

  “My string’s all bunched up,” said Ivy.

  “Undo it,” said Bean, trying to untie her bad knot.

  “I can’t,” said Ivy.

  Bean sliced one of her strings in half with her fingernail. Now she had seven strings. Yow. String-o-rama.

  “Now my first knot’s undone,” Ivy announced.

  “Mine turned into two strings,” Bean said.

  “You know,” said Ivy. “I already know we’re friends. It’s not like I need a bracelet to figure it out.”

  Now three of Bean’s strings were split. She had thirteen strings. “Stupid strings,” she muttered. She tried to untangle them. When she looked up, she saw that Ivy had wrapped all of her strings around her own wrists. She was using her teeth to tie the ends in a knot.

  “What are you doing?” Bean asked. “That’s not a craft.”

  “I’m being Houdini,” said Ivy. “No rope could hold him. He could escape from anything.” She held out her wrists. “Tie this knot and I’ll show you how he did it.”

  Bean threw her strings on the ground. “There’s no way you’d escape if I tied my special knot.”

  “That’s what you think,” said Ivy. “I’m getting really good at escaping.”

  Bean leaned over and tied the string around Ivy’s wrists, knotting once, twice, three times. “Hey!” she said. “Look! It’s a friendship bracelet.”

  HAPPY CAMPERS

  Ivy had just finished tying Bean’s arm and leg together behind her back when they heard a voice say, “That’s weird.”

  “What?” said Ivy, looking around. She got up to investigate.

  “Hey!” called Bean. “You can’t just walk away!”

  “What are you doing?” asked Ivy.

  “I’m trying to get the heck out of this rope!” yelled Bean. But Ivy was talking to someone else. Two someone elses. They were peeking out of a bush.

  “We’re running away from home,” said one of them. He was a little kid, littler than Ivy and Bean.

  “No, we’re not. He says anything,” the other one said. She was about their age. “Are you doing a trick?”

  “Welcome to Camp Flaming Arrow,” said Bean in her best counselor voice. It was hard to look like a counselor with her foot tied to her hand, but she tried.

  “Camp What?” asked the girl.

  “Camp Flaming Arrow,” said Ivy. “You know, whoosh through the air, sizzle.” She added, “Some people call it Camp Neanderthal.”

  The girl looked at Bean. “Why is she all tied up?”

  “Crafts!” yelled Bean, struggling to get her foot free.

  The boy set down his backpack. “That’s a good craft. Can I be in your camp?”

  “I thought you were running away from home,” said Ivy.

  “No.” The girl shook her head. “We’re visiting our great-aunt. She told us to come here and play. We can’t go back to her house until dinner.”

  “Wow,” said Ivy. “Dinner’s a long time from now.”

  The girl nodded. “She’s kind of crabby.”

  Bean heaved herself over onto her side with a thump. She smiled, showing all her teeth. “Welcome to Camp Flaming Arrow, a week of fun and inspiration for g—kids.” The boy was a boy, so it couldn’t be just for girls. “I’m Counselor Bean, and that girl is Counselor Ivy.”

  The boy’s name was Harlan, and he was six years old. His sister was Franny, and she was seven. Harlan asked where the other campers were.

  Bean tried to think of a good answer. She couldn’t. “Actually, there aren’t any other—”

  “Camp doesn’t really start until next week,” Ivy broke in.

  “Right!” said Bean. “This is practice week. Just for counselors.”

  “But we’ll make an exception for you,” said Ivy.

  Bean nodded seriously. “You’re lucky. If you came next week, you might not get in. This camp is pretty popular.” Ivy nodded seriously, too.

  “You don’t look very old to be counselors,” said Franny.

  “Oh, we’re old all right,” said Bean.

  “We’re short for our ages,” said Ivy. “Really short.” She sighed sadly.

  Harlan and Franny could tell that it wouldn’t be polite to ask any more questions about that.

  “Now! We always start with a little talk about camp rules!” said Bean, rubbing her hands together. “So sit down! Crisscross applesauce! Hop to it!”

  Harlan and Franny plopped down on the grass and waited obediently. Ivy and Bean looked at each other with shining eyes. This was going to be good. No one ever let them make the rules.

  “Rule number one!” said Bean. “You can only have as much fun as you are willing to get hurt!”

  “What?” said Franny.

  “Rule two!” said Ivy. “Live and learn!” Her mom said that a lot.

  “Rule three!” yelled Bean. “The counselor is always right!”

  Ivy began to giggle. “Rule four! If you want to make an omelet, you’re going to have to break some eggs!”

  “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!” bellowed Bean.

  “Don’t get mad, get even!” yelled Ivy.

  “I don’t think this is a real camp,” said Franny.

  “Time for crafts!” shouted Bean.

  “How was your day, Bean?” her dad asked that night at dinner.

  “Great,” said Bean.


  “What did you do?”

  “Great,” said Bean. She was thinking about crafts. It had been a lot of fun. Even Franny and Harlan had had fun. They were the kind of kids who enjoyed having their hands tied to their feet.

  “What?” said her dad.

  Bean turned to Nancy. “How was Girl Power 4-Ever?” she asked.

  “Super-duper fun!” Nancy said, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

  “What exactly did you do?” asked Bean.

  “Well! We did nature study first, and then—”

  “What’s nature study?” asked Bean.

  “You know, studying nature! Duh!” said Nancy. “And then we had crafts and dance and I’m in a routine and—wait.” Her eyes got narrow. “Why do you want to know?”

  Bean opened her eyes wide and pitiful. “I’m just interested in your life. Isn’t that all right?”

  “No,” said Nancy. Her eyes got even narrower. “Leave my life alone.”

  “Nancy,” said her mother. “Don’t be mean to your little sister.”

  “Yeah,” said Bean. “I’m just a little kid.”

  When their parents weren’t looking, Nancy stuck her tongue out at Bean.

  MONKEY PARK GONE WILD

  Ivy was the counselor in charge of nature study. It was only fair. She knew a lot about nature. She knew about bugs and dinosaurs and tornadoes. But what the heck was nature study? Ivy wasn’t sure. So the next morning, she brought every nature-y thing she could think of to Camp Flaming Arrow.

  “Please be seated,” said Ivy to Harlan and Franny. They sat.

  “These are our nature study materials. Our kit.” That was good. A kit sounded like something a counselor would have. “This is a magnifying glass.” She held it up.

  “We know,” said Franny.

  “Shh,” said Bean.

  Ivy held up a pair of goggles. “These are goggles. They protect your eyes during explosions.”

  “Explosions?” said Harlan.

  Ivy held up binoculars. “For seeing things that are far away.”

  “Like what?” said Franny. “What are we going to see?”

  “Shh,” said Bean.

  “Paper bags,” said Ivy, waving them. “For specimens.”

  “What specimens?” said Franny. “I don’t see any specimens.”

  “Hey,” said Bean. “The counselor is always right.”

  “I don’t think this is real nature study,” grumbled Franny. “Let’s do more crafts, like yesterday.”

  Bean was just about to get mad when Ivy spoke. “Fine,” she said, like she didn’t care. “If you want to go off by yourself and do crafts, that’s okay. But you’ll be missing a very special event. A very unusual event.” She smiled. “Today’s nature study is,” she paused dramatically, “the Komodo dragon.”

  “A dragon?” squeaked Harlan.

  “Komodo dragons are lizards,” Ivy explained. “They’re longer than two grown- ups put together. Their spit is red and poison-ous. And guess what: They don’t ever poop.”

  “What do they look like?” asked Harlan. “How can they not poop?”

  “They look like giant brown lizards,” answered Ivy. “They can’t chew. They don’t have any taste buds.” She didn’t know how they could not poop, so she didn’t answer that question.

  “Do they live here?” asked Harlan, looking around. “How can they not poop?”

  “They eat goats whole,” said Ivy.

  “And they live here, in Monkey Park?” asked Franny. She didn’t sound like she believed it.

  Ivy looked at Bean. “Komodo dragons are very, very rare in Monkey Park,” she said. “But we might get lucky today.” This was true. There might be a Komodo dragon that had escaped from the zoo. “It’s just possible. In fact, I think I’d better go get my Komodo-catcher, just in case.”

  “Really?” said Harlan. He bounced a little. “We’re going to catch one?”

  “Maybe,” said Ivy. “I’ll be right back.”

  While Ivy ran to her house, Bean gave the campers a pep talk. At least, it started out as a pep talk. “Nature study is one of the most important parts of camp,” she said. “But it’s also the most dangerous.” She squinted her eyes like a cowboy. “We’ve lost a few campers in nature study.”

  “Lost?” asked Harlan. “Where?”

  Bean shook her head slowly. She was feeling more like a cowboy every minute. “Monkey Park,” she drawled. “It’s wild land.”

  Harlan looked worried. “Maybe we should skip nature study.”

  “It ain’t camp without nature study,” said Bean. She wanted to spit, but usually it dribbled down her front, so she didn’t. “Don’t fret, little fella. We’re a-going in prepared.”

  “You sound like a cowboy,” said Franny.

  “Well, ma’am,” began Bean, but just then Ivy came running back with a butterfly net in her hand.

  “That’s a butterfly net,” said Franny.

  “It’s a Komodo-catcher,” said Ivy.

  Bean picked up a thick stick. “And this-a-here is a Komodo-whopper.”

  Harlan put on the goggles. “What if they eat us?” he asked.

  “Oh, Harlan,” said Franny. “It’s just made-up. There aren’t any Komodo dragons.”

  “Don’t be so sure, Missy,” said Bean, rubbing the part of her face where a beard would be. “Let’s move out, nice and slow.”

  Ivy led them through the little woods. They wound among trees, their feet crunching quietly over leaves, and Bean began to think that if there were a Komodo dragon, it would be very hard to see.

  It might creep up on them.

  With its red and poisonous spit.

  “Halt!” Ivy whisper-shouted. Bean and Harlan and Franny halted. Ivy bent down and scrabbled in the dirt. “Look!” She pointed. “Footprints!”

  Bean leaned in and saw a big, five-toed footprint. “Komodo?” she asked.

  Ivy nodded wisely. “Be very quiet,” she whispered.

  Hardly breathing, they walked on. Step, step, step.

  “Hark!” Ivy whispered. “Was that the call of the Komodo dragon?”

  “Who-o!” Bean said out of the side of her mouth.

  “That’s you!” said Franny.

  “No. That was the yellow-bellied sap-sucker,” said Ivy. Suddenly, she bent and scrabbled in the dirt again. “Look!” she cried. “A specimen!” She held up a muddy lump. “The Komodo has been here.”

  Harlan lifted up his goggles to get a good look. “What is that thing?”

  “This? This is the remains of the Komodo’s breakfast.” Ivy peered at it carefully. “I believe it was a goat.”

  “A goat?” Harlan said. “That was a goat?”

  “Oh, Harlan,” Franny said. “It wasn’t a goat. She’s just making it up.”

  Ivy turned a little bit red. “I am not making it up.”

  “Yes, you are,” said Franny.

  “I said I believed it was a goat. And I do.”

  Bean could see that Ivy was getting mad. Bean knew from experience that when Ivy got mad, she got stubborn. She could see that Franny was stubborn, too. They were probably going to have an argument. Yup, now they were having it.

  “You don’t know anything about Komodo dragons,” Ivy was saying.

  Bored, Bean sat down and looked over at the field. The soccer teams were there again. It wasn’t a game, with moms and dads watching. It was a bunch of kids kicking a ball around while a teenager yelled at them. Soccer camp, Bean guessed. Hey, one of the kids was Leo, who went to school with Ivy and Bean. He was mostly their friend, even though he called them wackos sometimes.

  As Bean watched, the teenager stopped yelling and walked away, talking on his cell phone. As soon as his back was turned, the soccer kids went bonkers, kicking balls this way and that. “Goal! Goal! Goooal!” they screamed, racing around the field. Leo was one of the fastest, zigzagging and screeching and waving his arms wildly.

  Wildly.

  Bean started to laugh. “Hey!” S
he poked Ivy with her stick. “Check it out! An escaped Komodo dragon!” She pointed at Leo.

  “What?” said Franny.

  Ivy turned and saw. She giggled. “Wow. A whole herd of them.”

  “Get the big one!” yelled Bean. She jumped up and began to run, waving her whopper. Ivy followed with her butterfly net. “Komodo hunt!” Bean screamed to Franny and Harlan, and they took off behind her.

  Leo was so busy zipping around that he didn’t notice Bean until she was right next to him. “Hey!” he said. “Bean! What’re you doing?”

  “Get him!” she yelled to Ivy.

  Ivy almost got the net over Leo’s head, but he dodged away.

  “Head him off at the pass!” cried Bean to Harlan and Franny.

  Leo didn’t bother asking any more questions after that. He just ran.

  Waggling the whopper over her head, Bean charged after him. “Circle around! Circle around!” she shrieked. Leo looked over his shoulder and headed for the trees. Ivy and Franny and Harlan tore after him. He swung around and headed in the other direction, but there was Bean and her whopper. Leo turned again, and ran smack into Ivy.

  “Got him!” Ivy yelled, which wasn’t exactly true, since she and Leo were both on the ground.

  “Bag him!” hollered Bean, and Ivy dropped the net over Leo’s head. “Good work,” panted Bean, galloping up with Harlan and Franny.