Just a Boy and a Girl in a Little Canoe

by Sarah Mlynowski

  I stare up at the sparkling sky as we walk. The stars are everywhere, like white paint splattered across a black canvas.

  “I missed the stars,” I say. “There are no stars in the city.”

  “What do you mean?” Talia asks.

  “Too much light pollution,” I explain.

  “No stars! That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lis says. “We have a ton of stars in Long Island.”

  “North Caldwell, too,” says Talia.

  “It is pretty sad,” I say. “You don’t even realize it, though, until one day, you do. It’s hard to see the moon too. Not as hard, but it’s always hidden by buildings.”

  Before going back to the bunk, I stop at the secret spot by the showers to send a quick text to Eli.

  Me: Good night! Good morning! I hope you had a great flight. I sang songs by the campfire. Miss you. Love you.

  I read through my other texts too, and write back to my friends from NYU, and my mom, and my dad, and then head back to my cabin before I get eaten by a bear. Kidding. I’m sure there aren’t actual bears at camp. Mosquitoes, yes; bears, no.

  Hopefully.

  I’m in bed when Priya sticks her head through the door sheet. “Everyone here?” I take a moment to admire her perfectly arched eyebrows.

  “Aye,” calls Lis, from her bed.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Janelle is in the bathroom. Not sure where Danish is.”

  “She’s in the head staff office answering some parent emails,” Priya says. I remember the head staff office being by the Dining Hall. It’s the office above where the doctor lives. “Good night, ladies. See you in the morning.”

  Her head disappears and then the front door slams behind her.

  I look at my phone one last time before bed. No signal. I’m glad I sent a text, though, so Eli will arrive to a message from me. I wish I could say good night from bed. At school, he lucked out with a very absent roommate, so I slept over almost every night. But whenever we weren’t together, we would text each other good night, or a kissy emoji. I plug in the phone beside my bed and leave it on a shelf. Lis and Talia are getting changed and climbing into bed.

  “Hey there,” Janelle says, joining us. “Did someone come in?”

  “It was Priya checking on us,” I say. “Do they always do that or was she just worried one of us fell into the bonfire?”

  “They always do it,” Lis says. “One of the head staff comes around every night to make sure all the staff members are tucked into our cabins and not out gallivanting around the camp.”

  “Got it,” I say.

  “Janelle, will you turn off the lights?” Talia asks.

  “Just gimme a minute,” she says, and strips off her pants. She takes off her bra, and climbs into her sleeping bag in her tank top.

  “You forgot to turn off the lights,” Lis says.

  “Oh! Right! Sorry!” She gets out of her sleeping bag and turns them off. The room is dark, but the porch light is still on.

  “Outside one too?” Lis asks.

  “Oops!” Janelle says. She runs outside without pants and runs back into her sleeping bag. “Done!”

  “Thank you,” Lis says.

  “Wait, Danish is still out,” I say.

  Janelle laughs. “On it!” She runs back outside again.

  She’s a trooper, that’s for sure. I pull my comforter up to my chin.

  “I love this place,” Janelle says, getting back inside her sleeping bag. “I’m so glad I’m here. I’m glad you guys are here too. Are you glad you’re here?”

  “Sure,” I say, because I don’t want to be a downer. The fire was nice, but my mattress is saggy, I miss my boyfriend, and I’m cold. And it’s hard to fall asleep in a new place. I know in a few nights, it will feel normal, but right now it still feels strange. Right now, I can’t help but wonder if I made the right choice coming here. What if I hate it and I’m not good at being a counselor?

  “It’s going to be an excellent summer,” Janelle says happily.

  “I hope so,” I say.

  My phone lights up. A text from Eli? I reach over to see. But it’s nothing. Just a phantom light. My heart sinks. He’d still be on the plane anyway. I turn over the phone so it’s facedown, close my eyes, and try to fall sleep.

  “Good morning, ladies!”

  I open my eyes and see that our room is bathed in light, since apparently, the white sheet hanging over our window is not the world’s best shade.

  Danish has the door sheet to our room pulled back. “Rise and shine! Flagpole in fifteen!”

  This room could really use blinds—and doors.

  My cheeks are ice cold. It’s freezing. I forgot that camp mornings were cold, especially at the start of the summer. Need coffee. What time is it? I click on my phone. It’s eight thirty.

  No texts. No signal.

  Eli is in Europe! He landed! It’s after lunch there! I hate that I have no signal.

  I get up and start rifling through my cubby.

  Janelle groans from her bed. She’s facedown, with the pillow over her head.

  “Everyone just wears their pj’s in the morning,” Talia tells me, securing her curly hair into a bun on top of her head. “So don’t feel the need to get fancy.”

  “I remember that,” I say. “Vaguely.”

  “Although Janelle should probably put on some pants,” she adds.

  I stand up and throw a red zip-up hoodie over my shirt. I keep on my sweatpants, and find my sneakers under my bed. Just need to brush my teeth and I’m ready to go. I’m not looking my most glam, but it’s just camp breakfast.

  Cold toilet seat. Cold water. Cold teeth.

  I head back to our room and Janelle is still under her pillow. “Hey,” I tell her. “Janelle? Time for flagpole.”

  No response.

  “Janelle?”

  “Grrrst,” she mumbles.

  “C’mon, she’ll meet us out there,” Talia says, and pushes her way out of the room.

  I head out onto the porch, and see that a group of counselors are already standing around the flagpole area.

  “Morning, everyone!” says Botts. He’s wearing jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt, and his reddish hair is wet, like he’s already showered or gone for a swim. “Welcome to our first flagpole! Woot! When the kids are here, please make sure they get into their bunk lines as quickly and quietly as possible so we can start. Then we’ll call up a camper to raise the flag in the morning and lower it at night. We sing the national anthem in the morning and ‘Taps’ at night. Today, we’ll have”—he looks around at all of us and stops at me—“Rosenspan! Rosenspan’s here! Do you all know Sam Rosenspan? She got here last night, but she was here with me when we were kids. Welcome back, Rosenspan! She’s a counselor in the junior section. Everyone say hello to Sam!”

  Oh no. Please, no.

  “Hello, Sam,” everyone mumbles.

  “Come raise the flag, Rosenspan,” Botts says.

  Oh God, I’m not even wearing a bra! What the hell? Why am I not wearing a bra? It’s like I’m asking for Porny to come back!

  But no one says anything. No one seems to be pointing and whispering either as I shuffle to the flagpole.

  Just in case, I make sure to have my back to the counselors as I tug on the rope.

  I find coffee immediately. It is hot and it is free-flowing and it is located right inside the kitchen. Great coffee it’s not, but it is strong enough to get the job done. Once I find the Splenda, I am good to go. Ah.

  There are also slightly soggy waffles, melon, bananas, and Greek yogurts in all types of flavors. Also every table is given two different boxes of sugary cereals and a container of milk.

  “I haven’t had Froot Loops since I was seven,” I say. “But I am looking forward to changing that immediately.”

  “Yesterday we got Lucky Charms,” Talia says. “Those were fantastic.”

  “Bunk Seven has them today, if you miss them,” Lis says.

  “I do miss them,” Ta
lia says solemnly. “I really do. But I am too lazy to stand up. I will just hope that the box returns to us at some point in the future.”

  “Keep the faith,” I say.

  I am halfway through my bowl of sugar when Janelle marches through the doors.

  “These mornings are killers,” she says, standing by our table. She’s not wearing a bra either. She’s also not wearing a sweatshirt, just a thin T-shirt. Her boobs are everywhere.

  “Wait till the kids get here,” Lis says. “They’re up at, like, six.”

  “Ugh,” Janelle groans. “So what do we have after breakfast? Nap time?”

  “Swim test,” Talia says.

  “Noooooo!” Lis cries.

  “Yes,” Talia says. “And I have worse news.”

  “What?”

  She sighs. “It’s in the lake.”

  “This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Talia huffs as I push myself to the dock for the tenth time.

  “It’s like an ice box,” I say.

  “It really is,” Marissa calls out. She’s the head of swimming. I remember her from when I was a camper—she was a CIT with Danish. Maybe that’s when they dated. Marissa is wearing a bright yellow one-piece and a whistle around her neck. “I’m sorry! But there’s something wrong with the chlorine in the pool, and we can’t get off schedule—”

  “We better not be the only section taking the swim tests in the lake!” Lis cries.

  “The juniors always get screwed,” grumbles Talia.

  “No we don’t,” says Danish, who is swimming beside me. “It’s going to be terrific to be a counselor for juniors this year! You’ll see! Terrific! Go, juniors!”

  “It doesn’t seem terrific,” Lis says. “It seems freezing.”

  “I am actually finding the water refreshing!” Janelle says as she glides across the lake. Her strokes are long and fluid. Unlike the rest of us, she is an excellent swimmer.

  I like swimming, I just haven’t done it in a while.

  “Janelle, you’re done,” Marissa says.

  “Wahoo!” she cheers. She steps up onto the ladder and grabs her towel from the dock.

  “Danish, you have two left and the rest of you slowpokes have four,” Marissa says.

  “I hate you right now,” Talia says. “Just thought you should know.”

  Cold, cold, still cold. Will this ever end?

  Four laps later, we plant our feet in the sandy shore.

  “Way to go, ladies!” Marissa says. “You passed. You are allowed to do all boating activities and swim in the deep section of the lake!”

  “What if we hadn’t passed?” Talia asks. “Would we get to skip all those activities?”

  “Bunk Five!” Marissa calls out. “You’re next!”

  “Janelle!” Lis cries. “Can you get us our towels?”

  Janelle is at the top of the beach talking to the guys.

  “She’s a flirt, huh?” Talia mutters. “JANELLE! Janelle has too many letters. We need a nickname for her. Nelly? Belly? Ohhh, Jelly?”

  I can’t tell if that’s an insulting nickname or not. “Let’s just call her Janelle,” I say.

  “Jelly is a really good nickname,” Lis says.

  Janelle looks over at us.

  “Jelly! Janelle! Would you bring us our towels?” Lis cries. “We’re freezing!”

  “Of course!” Janelle calls back and runs back down the hill to the waterfront. She picks up our three towels and brings them to the edge of the water. “Here you go, m’ladies.”

  “Thanks,” Lis says, shivering. “Are my lips blue? They feel blue.”

  I thank Janelle for my towel as she hands it to me with a smile.

  The guys from Bunk 5 walk down the beach with Janelle. Muffs and wild-haired JJ. JJ is tall, thin, and pale. Muffs is shorter, tanned, muscular, and still wearing his earmuffs.

  “So what came first?” I ask him. “The nickname or the headwear?”

  “The headwear,” he says.

  “And why do you wear earmuffs during the summer?” I ask. “No judgment. Just curious.”

  “It’s kind of my thing,” he admits. “I have cold ears.”

  “Or maybe you have really nasty ears,” Lis says. “And you just don’t want to show anyone.”

  “That is absolutely a possibility,” he says. “I am not a fan of Q-tips. I’m going to take the earmuffs off to swim, though. So you can check them out.” He turns to me. “So why did you stop coming?”

  “Huh? You mean to camp?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I just . . .”

  “Oh, there was that horrible girl in your bunk! Zoe Buckman!” JJ says. “Was it because of her?”

  I nod. “Sort of.”

  “Bennett is a senior,” Muffs says.

  “Who’s Bennett?” I ask.

  “Her brother,” he says.

  “Her brother still goes here?” I ask. Ugh. Not that I’d recognize her brother. Or he’d recognize me. And anyway, he would be too young to have been here eight years ago.

  “My cousin was in your bunk,” Muffs says. “Kara Fortnoy?”

  “No way!” I say. “I remember her.”

  “She was a bitch too,” he says.

  “Nah,” I lie. She had been the one to notice my bloodstained sweatpants on my overnight. Then she told her BFF Zoe Buckman.

  “She totally was. It’s okay. She still is. So why’d you come back? Because they’re gone?”

  “I just missed the camp mac and cheese,” I say.

  He laughs.

  “And my boyfriend was going away and Danish offered me the job on the train. I’m studying to be a teacher, so it all worked out.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to take being a counselor, like, super seriously?” Lis asks.

  “Well, I want to do a good job,” I say. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Maybe you can do a great job for both of us,” Talia says, and everyone laughs.

  I think she’s kidding?

  “So are you still with the guy?” Muffs asks.

  “Of course,” I say. “We didn’t break up because he went away.”

  He laughs. “Good luck with that. Relationships never last at camp.”

  “What a terrible thing to say,” Lis says, swatting him on the arm. “Relationships last.”

  “No they don’t,” JJ says. “Name one.”

  “Trevor had a girlfriend last year!”

  “He did?”

  “He totally did.”

  “Didn’t he hook up with the office girl?”

  “The druggie?”

  “No!”

  “Yes!”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Look—” I interrupt, feeling a squeezing in my chest. “My relationship is going to last. We’ve been together a long time. Almost a year. And he’s the best. A summer apart is not going to make a difference.”

  Everyone’s quiet. “If you say so,” Muffs says. He readjusts his earmuffs.

  “Don’t be an ass,” Lis says to him.

  “Where did he go, anyway?” Muffs asks. “Your boyfriend who’s the best.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. “Europe.”

  “No way,” Muffs says. “Gavin’s girlfriend is in Europe too.”

  We all turn to the water, where Gavin is on a sailboat.

  “Is she backpacking too?” I ask.

  “I have no idea,” Muffs says.

  “I’m not the only one at camp with a significant other, then, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  “There you go.”

  “You guys can go hunt for Wi-Fi together,” Talia says.

  It might be nice to have a friend in loneliness.

  After swimming, we meet Dr. Harris back in the Dining Hall. She wears her blond hair in a tight bun and shows us how to use an EpiPen.

  We practice jabbing each other in the thigh.

  Post a lunch of make-your-own tuna sandwiches, I sneak over to the cell signal spot to try to call Eli. I know I won’t
be able to do this when the kids are here, since they aren’t supposed to see us on our phones, but today is fair game. A bunch of texts from him pour in, but I dial right away. My heart starts to thump as I wait for him to answer.

  He answers on the first ring. “Hi!” he exclaims.

  “You answered!”

  “I did!”

  “Hi!” I can’t stop smiling. “How’s Rome?”

  “Hot.”

  “What time is it there? Where are you? Are you with your cousin?”

  “It’s eight p.m. here,” he says. “And I’m at the hostel. And his plane lands at nine, so I’ll see him soon.”

  I wish I had met Yosef. I have no idea what he’s like. Or what he’s going to want to do. “Are you exhausted?” I ask.

  “I just woke up.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, no, it’s good you did. I need to shower and I slept for five hours anyway, which is way too long. How’s camp?”

  “Good. Better than the last time I was here, at least.”

  “No one called you any sexy names?” he says with a laugh.

  “It wasn’t sexy,” I say quickly.

  “I’m kidding,” he says. “I know how much that name bothered you.”

  I’ve told him about being called Porny. It was one of the reasons I waited seven months before sleeping with him. I felt so much shame about my body, about having sex, about being “Porny.”

  Eli was so patient, too. He never pressured me, even though he had slept with his high school girlfriend regularly. He waited until I was ready. Until one Thursday night, when we were just lying in his bed, my head on his NYU T-shirt, talking about where to go that night, when I told him I wanted to.

  He ran to the pharmacy so fast, I told him he should try out for track.

  I don’t know what changed in that moment. I just knew that I felt safe with him. And that I wanted to do it.

  “So no one’s being a jerk?” he says now.

  “No,” I say. “We’ve mostly been settling in. My co-counselor was mad that I was late, though.”