Crossing Over

by Stacy Davidowitz

  Melman didn’t want to make him feel awkward by withdrawing completely. Her triple Big Mac of a heart was feeling mushy anyway. “That was all you, Totle,” she shouted over the still-chanting crowd.

  “Nah,” Totle said, playfully waving it off. “The whole is more than the sum of its parts.” Melman cocked her head. “No way we could’ve done it without you,” he paraphrased.

  “Or you!” Sophie said to Steinberg. She hugged him around his waist and swung him a couple inches above the grass.

  “Or me,” Jenny said, giggling. “I totally inspired this sexy cut.” She ran her fingers through a silky, damp tuft of Melman’s hair, while Missi and Jamie affirmed Jenny with zealous nods.

  After a big group hug that was a little bit sweaty, mostly itchless, and 100 percent full of Hamburger-Faith love, the guys and girls split ways. They’d see each other fifteen minutes from now in the Dining Hall for grilled cheese, so there was no need to be so dramatic. But everyone knew mass hugs were the best way to wrap up an epic morning.

  Slimey offered her back to her hero, and Melman accepted, hopping on. They made it only four steps before Slimey broke into a griggle—an indecipherable groan and giggle—and the two of them collapsed onto a bed of dandelions. “We’ll meet you back in a sec!” the girls chimed to the others, trying to recoup from their now straight-up giggling.

  While the rest of the girls headed to Faith, Melman and Slimey lay in the tickly grass, head-to-head. Melman imagined that if either of them had lice, they’d lay eggs on overlapping strands of hair. Melman hoped that wasn’t the case—she’d caused enough hair drama for one summer—but sometimes at camp, gross thoughts were the first ones that crept to mind. She squashed the thought and focused on the fluffy clouds floating above them. One even looked just like the baby dragon she’d spotted the first week of camp.

  She pointed straight-ish up. “What do you see?”

  Melman could feel Slimey’s head tilt in the grass for perspective. “I dunno. Like a cute dinosaur that breathes fire or something.”

  “You mean a dragon?” Melman laughed.

  “Oh yeah! It’s totally a dragon!”

  Melman knew they should probably head back to Faith, but then she got sidetracked by a cloud that looked like a penguin. Or a skull. She was on the cusp of asking Slimey what she thought about it, when Slimey spoke up. “Hey, Mel,” she said softly, like she was going to say something serious, “you know how in the beginning of the summer I said Scottie looked . . . I dunno . . .”

  Weird? “Yeah . . .”

  “I don’t think that anymore.”

  Melman smiled and flipped to her tummy. “You mean you don’t think I look weird?”

  Slimey flipped to her tummy, too, all nervous. But she relaxed when she was met with Melman’s no-biggie smile. “I guess,” she said sheepishly, plucking a blade of grass.

  “It’s cool,” Melman said. She thought about asking “Penguin or skull?” now, but could tell by Slimey’s locket fingering that she wasn’t finished. She waited patiently, while her heart sped up just a touch.

  “It’s just, sometimes I feel like we know each other better than we know ourselves, ’cause we’re like soul sisters . . .”

  Melman nodded with a mini-smile. She loved when Slimey called them that. It made her feel like their bond was forever. ’Cause, well, it was.

  “But then sometimes you surprise me—and in case you ever feel like you’re surprising yourself, just know, I’m here for you.” Slimey cautiously raised her eyes to meet Melman’s.

  Melman’s heart swelled to the size of the penguin/skull cloud, which was way bigger than three Big Macs. Since “Thank you” or “You’re the best” couldn’t possibly express the concoction of security, joy, and relief she was feeling, Melman instead swallowed her words and pressed her forehead against Slimey’s. They stayed there, their eyes closed, connected by the warmth of their faces.

  Melman hadn’t thought about it the way Slimey did, but she totally understood what she meant. In the past four weeks she had changed her look three times, experienced her first-ever kiss, broken down boundaries, and shaken up camp history. So . . . Did she surprise herself? Duh. Was she surprised that she’d surprised Slimey? Nope. Did at any point she feel alone? Maybe.

  She could tell this summer was just the start of something, but with best friends like Slimey and the rest of the Faithers at the most life-changing place in the world, she felt ready. First things first, she needed fuel. It was time for lunch.

  “Can I have your crusts?” Melman asked, sitting back on her heels.

  “Of my grilled cheese?” Slimey said, bursting into laughter. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

  Melman put Slimey’s hand on her belly. “What do you think?” Her rumbling monster told her yes.

  “Let’s get you some food!” Slimey said, pulling Melman to her feet. The girls raced off down the dirt road toward the Dining Hall, fingers interlocked.

  A few years ago, I was lucky to collaborate with the Spiegel brothers—Adam and David—on writing the musical Camp Rolling Hills. My friend Erica Finkel saw a workshop of the show and tossed out the idea that I write a book for middle schoolers. A few months later, I embarked on Camp Rolling Hills: the book! Erica is my fairy godmother, bestie, and editor, who grew the seed of an idea into a full-fledged series. I am forever grateful. Thank you to the amazing Spiegel brothers for your inspiration and permission to nurture the world we hold so close to our hearts.

  Camp has been a major part of my life and still is. I was lucky to transition from camper to counselor to upper staff at Tyler Hill Camp, where my mom was the Head of Girls’ Side. Mom and Dad, thank you for introducing me to this incredible, life-changing place, for daring me to be silly and take enormous risks, and for your endless love and support. To my brother, Mike, my sister, Amy, and my sister-in-law, Deanna, who all work in the camp industry: congrats on making a career out of the greatest cult. I love you.

  Grandma Terry, Grandma Joanie, and Grandpa Lenny—thank you for being my number one fans. You three are the world’s best.

  Lauren Kasnett Nearpass, thank you for brainstorming marketing and branding and for inviting me to blog for Summer 365. I’m honored to be working with you and your incredible organization.

  Aimee Berger, you’re a rock star. Thanks to you, It’s a Camp Thing, and Camplified for all your summer coordination and support!

  Jay Jacobs, thank you for conceiving the STARFISH Program and for granting me permission to reference it in the Camp Rolling Hills series. It’s a brilliant values system that defined so much of my personal experience at Tyler Hill. I’m so glad I can share it.

  Lexi Korologos, my teenage life coach, thank you for reading countless drafts, dishing your honest feedback, and brainstorming titles. Crossing Over is all you.

  Susan Van Metre, Erica Finkel (again and again), and the whole brilliant team at Abrams: Pam, Jim, Michael, Jason, Jess, Mary, Elisa, Rob, Carol, Caitlin, and Kathy. Thank you for seeing so much potential in an early draft and for providing the feedback that has enriched the story a million times over.

  Thank you to my friend and collaborator Elissa Brent Weissman for introducing me to my agent, Erica Rand Silverman. Erica, I’m so lucky to have such a camp-loving, fierce advocate of my work.

  My camp friends. My campers. My counselors. My co-counselors. The camps: Twin Oaks, Crestwood, Summit, Tyler Hill, A.C.T., Oxbridge. You have made me who I am today and provided me with the heart and experience to write this series.

  My partner-in-crime, Tim Borecky, thank you for lending me your wisdom and dramaturgy every time I cornered you to read you chapters. I appreciate your indulging my characters as if they are our friends.

  To all the camp people out there, enjoy the adventure and the s’mores.

  Stacy Davidowitz is a camp-obsessed writer of books, plays, and screenplays. She also enjoys acting, singing, running long distances, and teaching theater all over New York City. Her alma maters
are Tufts University, Columbia University, and Tyler Hill Camp. The Camp Rolling Hills series marks her debut as an author. Visit Stacy at www.stacydavidowitz.com and www.camprollinghills.com.

  Collect them all!