home and waited to see what would happen. Jenny’s mother got angry sometimes, but when she did, her voice was really quiet—a whisper almost. When Mrs. Lambert was angry, she yelled, loud enough for everyone in camp to hear every word. She had yelled about what an incredibly irresponsible thing it had been for Jenny and Dora to run out like that. And how unacceptable it was for them to smoke cigarettes! Furthermore, Mrs. Lambert said, since Jenny and Dora had proved themselves to be untrustworthy, she was in the process of notifying their parents to come get them. They wouldn’t be allowed to stay in camp for the remainder of the weekend.
For Jenny, who wasn’t used to being in trouble, Mrs. Lambert’s red-faced tirade was uncharted territory. Because Jenny knew she deserved it, she had taken the dressing-down with her own flushed tic e bowed in aching embarrassment.
Dora, on the other hand, had casually shrugged of the whole thing. As soon as Mrs. Lambert finished yelling at them, grabbed her cell phone, and marched outside, Dora had stuck her tongue out at Mrs. Lambert’s retreating back as the door closed.
“What does she know?” Dora demanded. “The hell with her! I’m going to go take a shower.”
“A shower!” Jenny yelped. “You can’t do that. You heard what Mrs. Lambert said. No showers. There isn’t enough water. If you use too much, the other girls may run out of water before the weekend is over.”
“So what ?” Dora asked with a shrug. “What do I care? She’s going to send us home anyway.”
“But we’ll get in even more trouble.”
“So what?” Dora repeated with another shrug. “Who cares? At least I’ll be clean for a change.” With that, she flounced into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
Jenny, alone in the living room, was left wondering. She had always thought Dora was dirty because she liked being dirty and that her body odor was a result of not knowing any better. Now, as Jenny listened to the shower running for what seemed like endless minutes, she wasn’t so sure.
There was a knock on the door. Jenny jumped. She started to get up to answer it, but then thought better of it. “Who is it?” she asked. Since the shower was still running, she prayed whoever was outside wouldn’t be Mrs. Lambert, and her wish was granted.
“It’s Frank Montoya, Jenny,” the chief deputy said. “I need to talk to you.”
Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Jenny raced to the door and flung it open. Then, embarrassed, she stepped away. “Hello,” she said in a subdued voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “I guess so,” she said. “Did you call my mom?”
“Yes.
“Is she coming home?”
“Not tonight. She’ll he home tomorrow.”
Jennifer Brady heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn’t yet ready to face her mother.
“Your grandparents are coming to get you,” Frank Montoya continued.
Jenny’s stomach did a flip-flop. “Which ones?” she asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Brady. They’ll be here soon.”
Jenny swallowed hard and offered Frank Montoya a tentative smile. Grandpa and Grandma Brady would be far easier to deal with than Grandma Lathrop Winfield would be. Her mother’s mother had a way of always making things seem far worse than they were, although, in this case, having things get worse hardly seemed possible.
“What about Dora’s mother?” Jenny asked. “Is she coining, too?”
“So far we haven’t been able to contact Mrs. Matthews,” Frank Montoya explained. “We may have to ask your grandparents to take Dora into town as well. If Mrs. Matthews still isn’t home by the time you arrive, maybe your grandparents can look after Dora until we’re able to notify her mother.”
“No,” Dora said, emerging barefoot from the bathroom. She was wearing the same dirty clothing she’d worn before, but her clean wet hair was wrapped in a towel. “I can go home