Read Online There's a Bat in Bunk Five by Paula Danziger - Free Book Online Page B

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    Ted’s waiting in the parking area.
    I get into the car.
    He looks different, a little less like camp, a little more dressed up. Blue jeans, just washed and even pressed. A short-sleeved T-shirt with the insignia from his sister’s college, Princeton. Even his sneakers look like they’ve been washed.
    Neither of us are wearing the usual layer of camp dirt that seems to collect on us as soon as we’ve been out for an hour.
    â€œDid you see Nick?” I ask.
    He nods. “I’m afraid of what he’d have done for twenty bucks.”
    Ted starts up the car and heads out of the driveway.
    We’re on our way.

CHAPTER 8
    W oodstock, only eight miles from camp. Here we come.
    â€œDo you have to sit all the way at the other side of the car?” Ted asks. “I promise to keep both hands on the steering wheel.”
    I move closer to him and look at the scenery.
    He says, “I think you’re going to like Woodstock.”
    â€œCorrine says there are some great places to shop. Do you like to shop?”
    â€œSometimes. When it’s places I want to go and my mother’s not along telling me what I should buy.”
    I continue to look at the scenery.
    â€œSo what do you really want to be when you grow up?” I ask and giggle. Giggling’s truly catching. A regular plague. By the end of the summer I’ll probably turn into a laughing hyena.
    He says, “A set of Tinker Toys. And what do you want to be when you grow up?”
    â€œI want to be a kumquat.” I don’t even know what a kumquat looks like. I just like the way it sounds.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    I nod. “But if the job market’s tough and there are lots of kumquats out looking for work, I guess I’ll be a novelist.”
    â€œI want to be a doctor, if I can’t be a set of Tinker Toys. And no matter what, I always want to be able to play music.”
    We grin at each other.
    Getting into town, I see how small the shopping area is. I’m used to the shopping malls around my house. Ted parks behind the bank, and we walk to Tinker Street. There are lots of people around. Folks are sitting on the village green, talking, playinginstruments, looking around, resting. Some of them look like pictures of the sixties, long hair, headbands. Some are wearing jeans, long skirts, dresses, shorts. It looks like anything goes when it comes to dress. Everyone looks summery. Comfortable. No one is wearing a prom dress. Corrine was right.
    Ted holds my hand. “Come on. Let’s start at the library and work our way down.”
    We walk along, swinging our hands and looking at everything.
    The Woodstock Library is a wonderful little building, one story, made of wood. It looks like a house that elves could live in.
    â€œLet’s go in,” I say. “I love books.”
    â€œMe too.”
    We walk up the path. People are sitting all over the lawn, reading and talking.
    We enter. It’s great, real homey with librarians who smile and offer to help.
    â€œI wish I had a card here, even though I don’t have much time to read,” I say.
    â€œThere’s a bookstore farther up,” Ted says. “We can stop there.”
    As we leave, I hear one of the librarians talking tosomeone about the fair that’s going to be run later on in the summer. Rummage sale, games, plays, good stuff like that.
    We walk up farther.
    There are lots of great stores, beautiful jewelry, clothes.
    â€œHere we are,” Ted says. “The Golden Notebook.”
    In we go. I love the place. It’s got natural wood, books all over, piled up on the floor, shelves practically up to the ceiling. By the nature section there’s even a real spider weaving a web. I point it out to Ted.
    â€œThey probably pay it to be there,” he says.
    â€œMaybe it’s going through an identity crisis and thinks it’s a worm—a bookworm” is my comment.
    I feel like a