“That’s the lie,” Estelle muttered, still looking sulky. “He doesn’t turn into agreat whiteshark.”
“Estelle!” Finley protested. “It’s no fun if you tell everyone the answer straight away.”
Estelle tossed her silvery hair. “Well, come up with something I don’t know, then.”
“I can’t.” With a sigh, Finley sat down again. “You and Beth and Rufus know literally everything about me. Who hasn’t had a go yet?”
Flora’s hand shot into the air. “Me!” Without a pause, she continued, all on one breath, “My name is Flora, I’ve got seven brothers and sisters, I love skateboarding and soccer and basketball and ice hockey, and when I’m in my other form, I can poop CUBES!”
“Ewwwwwww!” Claire and Beth chorused in unison.
“Awesome,” Archie breathed.
Estelle glowered at him. “What, you don’t wantherto prove it?”
Archie’s attention was riveted to Flora. “Oh, I definitely want her to prove it.”
“Maybe later,” Honey said. “I think that’s another thing that we shouldn’t do in the dining hall.”
Finley’s brow furrowed. “Can you really poop cubes, Flora?”
“Yeah!” Flora said proudly. “Because I’m a wombat. We’re super strong and can dig really fast, and we have pouches, like kangaroos, only I never got ride in either of my moms’ because I didn’t shift until I was three, and by then I was too big to fit. Also, we have a thing called a dermal shield over our rear end, which is like really tough armor right under our skin, which we use to defend ourselves from predators. When I’m a wombat, I could crush your skull with mybutt.”
Archie gazed at Flora with the expression of a boy deeply, profoundly in love.
Claire was looking confused. “So, if the pooping cubes thing is true… do you not have seven brothers and sisters?”
“I wish I did,” Flora said sadly. “But my moms say that one of me is more than enough. So I’m an only child.” She perked up again. “Which is why I wanted to come to camp! To make lots and lots and lots of friends!”
“With those talents, I’m sure you will,” said a familiar growling voice from behind Honey’s shoulder.
“Buck!” Caught up in the kids, Honey hadn’t noticed him come in. With a surge of relief, she turned, only to discover that he wasn’t alone. A gangly boy in skinny jeans and a designer hoodie lurked behind him, his whole body one enormous scowl.
“Got someone for you to meet, kids.” Buck jerked a thumb at his sullen shadow. “This is Ignatius.”
“Ignatius AureliumGolden,” the boy said, stressing the last name.
From the way Finley and Beth exchanged startled glances, this had meant something to them. The rest of the kids simply looked nonplussed. Honey shared the sentiment.
“Bit of a last minute reshuffle,” Buck continued. “Turns out Ignatius will be joining our pack.”
It was hard to judge whether Buck or Ignatius looked more unhappy about this.
“Hi, Ignatius,” Honey said, deciding to ignore the boy’s clear lack of enthusiasm. “I’m Honey, your other counselor this year.”
Ignatius looked her up and down. His expression spoke volumes, if there was a whole nine-part thesaurus dedicated to synonyms for ‘contempt.’
Archie broke the awkward silence. “What kind of name is Ignoramus?”
“Ig-na-tius,” Ignatius said again, pronouncing each syllable with icy precision.
“Yeah, no,” Flora informed him. “That’s not gonna work. Can we call you Iggy?”
The look Ignatius turned on the girl could have frozen a campfire. “No.”
“If Ignatius prefer us to use his full name, then that’s what we’ll all do,” Honey said. “It’s nice to meet you, Ignatius. Take a seat. We were just playing a game to get to know each other.”
Ignatius didn’t move. “Dragons do not playgames.”
