Tips for Taking Over Summer Camp Chapter 15: (Bang! Bang! Bang!) “You Can’t Kick Us Out of Lunch! We Live Here Too!” (Bang! Bang! Bang!)

Chapter Fifteen: (Bang! Bang! Bang!) “You Can’t Kick Us Out of Lunch! We Live Here Too!” (Bang! Bang! Bang!)

We were left, stranded, in front of the door to the mess hall. Silvia was pounding on the door, shouting, “LET US IN! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” At the same time, Cora was looking at her hands, her eyes misty and Griffin had his head to his knees, uttering soft sobs.

“Silvia,” Christian said in between her screams. “Sil—Silv—S—Silvia! Stop!”

Silvia turned to him, her eyes filled with concentrated rage. “What?!”

“Stop. It’s not going to do anything,” he said calmly.

“They wouldn’t let us in and they locked us out!” she exclaimed. “It’s not fair! I can’t believe that the councillors would be allowed to let them do that! They’re going to eat all of our lunch and we’re going to starve!” She hit the door a few more times. “They can’t do that!”

“Silvia, listen to me,” Christian begged.

“Never!” she shouted.

For a while now, Rowan had been pacing around the building, grumbling to herself. I had caught a few words of what she was saying, but they were strange ones: acupuncture, alliteration, antidisestablishmentarianism, sporangia, and hammerhead shark. She had come around again, sat down next to me, and started to meow.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

To that, she just shrugged and looked back at Silvia, who had started to rant again.

“Just because we lost?! Well, I’ll make them lose. I’ll make them lose all their teeth and feeling in their…everywhere!”

It went on like this for another hour before my belly started to rumble violently. I knew that I wasn’t going to starve to death or anything, but it was still cruel. I could even smell all of the delicious food wafting towards us from inside. Bread… Pizza… Rice… Oh, I wanted it all so badly.

Just before I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, the door swung open and all of the other campers filed outside. Some of them clutched their stomachs and groaned while others complained that they needed to lie down.

Silvia gasped. “They ate all the food! They ate more than they needed to! Why those…” She then went on with a stream of curses and insults where some involved horses rolling down hills in wheelbarrows and barrels made of titanium. I didn’t even know that there were so many ways to say ‘I hate your guts’ while using hopscotch terms.

The only reaction she got out of any of them, however, was, “Meh. Get over it.”

That just made her even more angry and she started screaming her whole vocabulary of hateful words at them.

Much to our dismay, the last one out was Trent. He was smirking cockily and was crossing his arms in an I’m-way-better-than-you sort of way.

“Sucks to be in theater, doesn’t it?” he sneered.

Silvia growled like an angry wolf and tried to lunge at him, only to be held back by Christian and Cora.

“When I get my hands on you,” she snarled, “You’re going to regret even thinking about CALAC!”

“Oh, I’m so scared!” he snorted, sauntering away.

Griffin then decided to look up, revealing his red face and puffy eyes. His knees were slick and wet and a tear dribbled down his cheek. He looked back at the door and then at Trent, who had just joined his fellow music campers. Griffin then got up slowly to his feet. His legs were twitching slightly from having been sitting in the same position for so long. Then, with the speed of a hawk swooping on its prey, he dashed inside.

The rest of us exchanged a few glances, wondering if it was a good idea, but decided that it was worth it and followed him in.

The mouth-watering smells were still present in the mess, but so was an actual mess. Pizza crusts, bits of rice, globs of pudding, leaves of lettuce, chunks of mashed potatoes, and utensils of all types littered the floor and tables. It looked like a re-enactment of World War One of food had taken place. Everything was strewn about carelessly as if the other cabins had intended to waste so much food.

I nudged a fork which laid at my feet. Is this what they wanted to punish us with? How could they do such a terrible thing such as wasting food?

I took a glance at Silvia who was an utter wreck. Angry tears streamed down her scrunched-up face, her eyes blazed with red-hot flames, and her mouth opened and closed. She let out an angry scream which made all of us plug our ears.

Some of the members of the kitchen staff came out immediately, concern plastered over their faces.

“I’ll get the Chef,” one of them murmured to the others and ran into the kitchen. They came out a few moments later with a woman in white chef’s clothing and a fancy chef’s hat. She appeared to be around thirty with short black hair and thin red lips. She had broad shoulders and large hands which could probably support at least seven large bowls. Her gaze lit up when she saw us.

“Ah, hello,” she said. Her voice was soft and sweet, much like an nice grandmother’s, but younger. “We’ve been expecting you.” She snapped her fingers. “Wally, clean up their usual table and Diana, get them their servings.”

Two members of the staff instantly broke off from the rest and did as they were told.

As soon as one of them finished cleaning off our table near the back, we rushed over and got seated just as the other staff member brought us over three platters. She quickly uncovered them, revealing some golden chicken, creamy-looking mashed potatoes, and an apple pie which was still warm.

“We knew what the other camps were doing, so we saved some food for you guys,” the Chef explained. “You get the better stuff, you deserve it. What you also deserve is that freshly-made pie. The other camps didn’t get that either. Do you realize how hard it was to contain the smell from the other camps?” She let out a chuckle. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you!” we said in unison as she went back to the kitchen.

Without wasting any more time, we dug in.