Read Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 for Free Online Page A

tell them to get a new bunk bed pronto,” Deb says. “Plus I'm making them check over every bed here to make sure they're secure. In all my years here, I have never seen that happen!”
    What can I say? She's never had a witch for a camper.
    Just one more thing I can't blame on Tigger.

 
     

     
     
    3
THE ART OF UNPACKING
     
    Once everyone calms down, I explore the rest of the cabin. The cubby room is a large rectangular space filled with—you guessed it—wooden cubbies. Some of the cubbies are already stuffed with clothes, though most of them are empty. Duffel bags are piled in the center of the room.
    Omigod. You've got to be kidding me. I'm expected to change right here and prance around naked in front of all these strangers? They're going to see my deformity!
    From inside the cubby room, I can peek into bunk fifteen. Instead of two bunk beds and one single, it has three bunk beds.
    The cubby room leads to the bathroom, which I realize I very badly have to use.
    Yes, the bathroom! I can change in there, can't I?
    I squeeze through the girls and the bags and step inside. There are three stalls on my left and four sinks on my right.
    But where are the showers?
    Beyond the bathroom is a dangling white sheet. Maybe the showers are on the other side? I pull aside the sheet to take a look.
    “You can't come in here,” snaps a dark-haired older teen, who appears to be napping on one of two single beds. “It's the counselors' room!”
    The sheet drops out of my hand like a hot potato. Not that I would ever hold a hot potato. Who came up with that expression, anyway? The girl must be Penelope, the counselor for bunk fifteen. Good thing I got Deb. “Sorry,” I mutter.
    I vaguely remember Alison mentioning showers being on Upper Field. Does that mean there are no showers in the cabins?
    I retreat into one of the stalls. One of the tiny stalls. There's no way I could ever change my clothes in here. I lock the door, cover the seat with flimsy one-ply toilet paper, bang my knees against the door, and pee.
    I also read all the graffiti on the back of the door. Lynda D. seems to still really love Jon C.
    Once done and out of the stall, I smile at myself in the mirror, pump some of the communal soap into my palms, wash my hands, then dry them on someone else's black towel and look around. I think I'm finally getting my bearings. The cabin is shaped like the letter T. First you have the two sleeping rooms, which both lead into the cubby room, which leads into the bathroom, which leads into the counselors' room.
    No problemo. Now back to the cubby room . . .
    Or shall I say, the disaster zone.
    There are bags, clothes, and girls everywhere. I try to tune out the loud chattering (“My butt got so much wider over the year!” “You have to see my adorable running shoes.” “Did you get your belly pierced?”) while I locate my two bags. Of course, I find one of them under a pile of others and practically break my arm yanking it out.
    I don't understand how I'm expected to keep this cubby organized. Honestly. How am I supposed to cram
     
    8 T-shirts
    3 pairs of shorts
    2 pairs of jeans
    2 pairs of sweatpants
    1 pair of black pants (dry-clean only, so they'd better not get dirty)
    2 long-sleeved shirts
    2 sweatshirts
    12 pairs of socks
    12 pairs of underwear
    8 bras
    3 bathing suits
    1 jean jacket
    1 pair of sneakers
    1 pair of flip-flops
    1 pair of cute strappy black sandals
    9 towels (3 hand, 4 beach, 2 shower)
    1 alternate pillowcase
    2 alternate twin-size sheets (1 flat & 1 fitted, both boring and white)
    2 laundry bags
     
1 invisibility shield, aka enchanted umbrella (Let me tell you, it was no easy feat sneaking this past my mother's snooping eyes to pack. Though it's a good thing it becomes invisible only when cloaking someone. Otherwise, how would I ever find it?)1 bathrobe
     
    into a space the size of my school locker? What I need is some sort of organizing spell. While waiting for the room to clear, I brainstorm,