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them, because campers weren’t allowed to use the computer in the camp office.
    Reb read, “ ‘Yo, Reb! What up, chica? Hope you’re having fun at camp, ’cause it’s sure boring round here. So what have you been doing? I went to Big Surf with Mikey on Tuesday. We saw Lindz and Brittney. Got to go. Have fun, but not too much. Try not to miss me too much. Later. Bye. Wes.’ ”
    Reb looked up and grinned. Okay, it wasn’t wildly romantic, but at least he wrote her, and first.
    Jennifer got up and stood in front of the mirror. “Pretty good letter.”
    â€œI guess,” Reb agreed. “But he’s trying to make me jealous, mentioning Lindsay. She’s always liked Wes. She’s probably chasing him while I’m at camp.”
    â€œReally?” Jennifer squinted at her reflection. “You oughta write her and tell her to keep her hands off your boyfriend.”
    Reb shrugged. “Well, if Wes and I break up, I’ll start going out with Daniel Cook. He’s liked me since fifth grade. I thought Wes would want to break up since I was going to camp, but he didn’t. He must really like me. Wanna see his picture?” She grabbed her school annual from the shelf by her bed.
    Then she showed us every place Wes Mitchell appeared in the annual. He and Reb were in there a lot—they were both on the soccer and swim teams, plus Reb was on the tennis team. Reb was the class president and Wes was the treasurer. And they were both on the annual staff, except her school called it the yearbook staff. There was a picture of the two of them sitting at a table together. It looked like they were making vital decisions about which pictures to put where.
    Wes was drop-dead gorgeous—the kind of guy who always made me speechless. Of course Reb would have a bf like that.
    â€œYou’ve got so many cute guys in your school,” Jennifer said, looking at all the pictures. “I hate going to a girls’ school. And wearing a uniform. And going to Mass.”
    â€œMy parents thought about sending me to a girls’ school too, but we decided Country Day was giving me the best preparation for college.”
    Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Reb, shut up. You’re only going into seventh grade. I can’t believe how obsessed you and your parents are with college already. They can’t even leave you alone at camp.”
    It was true. Reb’s parents e-mailed her math problems to work on and vocabulary words to study. Every rest hour, she sat on her cot with a pad of paper in her lap and a pencil clenched between her teeth. I thought it was weird, but Reb didn’t seem to mind.
    â€œWe’re not obsessed with it. We’re just preparing, that’s all. And why are you always criticizing my parents? If it weren’t for them . . .”
    â€œI know, I know. If it weren’t for them riding you all the time, you wouldn’t be perfect. But you are perfect, so you’d think they’d get off your back and just let you be a kid. I thought my parents were tough.”
    Reb slammed her annual shut and threw it at the shelf. It banged against the wall and fell to the floor. We all stared at it, like we didn’t know how it got there. None of us moved. The rain drummed against the roof.
    I don’t know how I knew what to say, but somehow I did. I looked at Reb and said, “Wow. Nice serve.”
    Reb looked at me and burst out laughing. “Thanks. Fifteen-love. Your service.”
    Jennifer and I were both laughing now too. “I can’t serve like that!” I said.
    â€œWell, of course you can’t, because you’re not perfect like me, now are you?” asked Reb, laughing. She screwed up her face and snarled at Jennifer, who snarled back.
    I let out a shuddering laugh. “Well, if we’re not going to play tennis, what are we going to do? We have the whole cabin to ourselves.” I was