Are camp guys always so attractive, or am I just finding them all attractive because I am not allowed to have any of them?
The girls do drills, which mostly involve them lining up and Smokin’ Hot Benji lobbing balls at them, which the girls try to hit with their rackets. They take water breaks every four minutes.
It’s at least a hundred degrees out. Everyone misses most of the balls, except Shira, who is actually pretty good.
“He’s straight, by the way,” Janelle whispers to us, doing the eyebrow waggle again. Then she turns back to him. “Benji? Can you help me with my backhand?”
“Sure,” he says.
She runs toward him and he stands behind her, showing her the moves, his hands on her shoulders.
Now his hands are on her waist.
Now her hands are on his waist. She is making a move on Smokin’ Hot Benji!
“I feel like we’re watching something we shouldn’t be,” Lis says under her breath. “Maybe they want to get a room?”
Eric’s voice echoes over the loudspeaker, calling an end to the period.
“Come on, girls,” I say, leading them back to the bunk.
Benji and Janelle stay in their positions.
“We’ll see you at lunch!” I call out.
“She’s after your nickname, Porny,” Lis says to me. “Gross.”
“At least someone’s getting some action,” I say.
The girls are whiny as we head back to the bunk. They’re hot and hungry.
“Can we never have tennis again?” Fancy asks.
“I like tennis!” Shira says.
“’Cause it’s the only thing you’re good at,” Fancy barks back.
Shira turns bright red.
“That’s not true,” I say. “Shira is great at a lot of things.”
“Like what?” Fancy asks.
“Like folding.”
“And crying,” Fancy says.
I stop walking and crouch next to her. “Fancy, stop it. I am not going to stand by while you hurt Shira’s feelings. Do you understand? Enough is enough. Think about how you would feel if someone said something like that to you. Would you like it?”
She bites her lower lip and she shakes her head.
“Then stop. And it would be nice if you apologized.”
“Sorry,” she mutters to Shira, her face flaming.
“It’s okay,” Shira says.
“Thank you, Fancy,” I say, and take Shira’s hand. “Let’s sing a song.”
“That’s a good idea,” Prague says. “What song?”
I think back to cheers and songs I sang in camp. “Okay, girls, repeat after me. We’re going on a bear hunt!”
“We’re going on a bear hunt,” Prague and Shira say.
“I meant everyone!” I call.
“We’re going on a bear hunt!” they all sing.
“We’re gonna catch a big one!” I say.
“We’re gonna catch a big one!” they repeat.
“A big grizzly bear!”
“A big grizzly bear!”
“Well, I’m not scared!”
“Well, I’m not scared!”
We go through the rest of the song all the way to the bunk. They get louder and louder with each line. Other campers stop to stare but our kids keep going.
They’re smiling and singing and swinging their hands. Even Fancy.
I realize I’ve lost Talia and Lis along the way. Not that I’m surprised.
“You’re a really good counselor,” Em tells me.
Maybe I am.
I plan on calling Eli at Rest Hour, but it turns out all the kids have to write letters home, and it’s my job to supervise them.
Prague has preprinted fill-in-the-blank camp stationery and is finished in a minute.
The stationery says:
Dear _______ , Hello from Camp ________. My favorite activity is ________. My least favorite activity is __________. My favorite meal is _______. My least favorite meal is ________. The counselors are ________.
I read over her shoulder and am pleased to see that she filled in great for the counselor one.
Look at me! I am great!
I help the rest of them write return addresses, explain where the stamp has to go, and help them spell canoeing.
I never make it to the office.
But I do make it to archery.
“Look at me, I’m Katniss!” says Slugger. Considering she couldn’t spell canoeing, I can’t believe she’s reading The Hunger Games, but then I realize she probably just saw the movies.
“Want to try?” the archery teacher asks me.
“I do want to try!” I say. After all, I did read the books! I get into position, pull the bow back, and aim for the target.
I miss. Spectacularly.
“Try again,” the teacher says.
This time I get it on the target. Woot!
“You’re a natural,” she says. “Want to go for the bull’s-eye?”
“Let’s let the kids have another go,” I say.
Slugger actually gets a bull’s-eye, putting me to shame.
And then so does Talia.
“I am also shockingly good at bowling,” she says.
I don’t make it the office for the rest of the day. Prague skins her knee at Dinner Washup, and since I am somehow covered in lake water from GS (General Swim), I decide I need to shower at Free Play.
It starts to pour during Evening Activity, and it’s too wet and dark to venture to the office.
I miss Eli. I miss his voice.
I don’t care if I have to take a boat to get there, tomorrow I’m getting to the office.
The next day, I finally, finally make it to the office at Dinner Washup.
There are many texts from Eli.
UGH I can’t believe I missed your call! I fell asleep! The phone was right by my head! I don’t know how I didn’t hear! SORRY!
OK, will make sure to have the phone nearby tomorrow at 1 your time! I miss you!
Hi! It’s one! Waiting!
1:10.
It’s 1:30 now. Maybe you’re stuck somewhere. Going to a bar in a few. Not sure if I should wait or not.
I gotta go. Busy day, I guess.
You have not called in a while. Everything OK?
Then nothing today.
I call him.
He answers on the first ring.
“Hi! You’re alive!”
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s so busy here!”
“I’m busy too,” he says. “But I still have time to text you.”
“Ah, but you have Wi-Fi access,” I say, suddenly annoyed. “I don’t.”
“I know,” he says.
“And you’re on vacation,” I snap. “And I’m working.”
“I know,” he says again. “I just miss you.”
I sigh. “I miss you, too. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get to the office as often as I can.”
“I’m sure you are,” he says, and there’s a pause.
“So how were your last two days?” I say.
“Good,” he says. “We went to some museums. How were yours?”
“I did not go to a museum. I schlepped children from one end of camp to the other.” I decide to give him a little bit. “But I also went in a canoe.”
“You did? I love canoes!”
“Me too.” I don’t tell him about swimming with Gavin or sailing with Gavin or Gavin splashing me when I was in the water.
We talk for another twenty minutes until I hear him yawn. “Can you call me tomorrow?” he asks.
“I can try for Rest Hour or Dinner Washup. But sometimes something comes up and then I feel terrible. Like letter-writing day.”
“Just do your best, I guess,” he says. His voice sounds a little bit condescending, but I decide to let it go.
“Will do,” I say instead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The next two days are busy, but I manage to make it to the office every day. We get m
ore eights at cleanup. I make a chore wheel. I get people into the right clothes, wearing the right shoes. Talia French braids their hair and we try to teach her how to make Princess Leia buns.
I play soccer. We sing more camp songs. I put sun block on everybody.
I catch the raccoon making a run for it from our bunk with a package of SweeTarts, so we spend our Rest Hour searching for all the candy that the campers have taken pains to hide from us in their underwear bags and under their beds.
Finally, it’s Friday night, and we all change into white shirts for Friday Night Dinner. That is part of our not-Shabbat but kind-of-Shabbat tradition.
Dinner is roasted chicken and veggies, and we all get grape juice, which seems like a bad idea with white shirts. But! Tradition! Not-Shabbat!
After Free Play is Sing-Song, my favorite camp activity. We all cram into the Rec Hall and the screen comes down, and while the camp owner plays the piano and Priya plays the guitar, we follow along with the lyrics and sing all the regular camp songs.
Then we go into “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” “House at Pooh Corner,” “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh,” “Hey There Delilah,” “Closer to Fine,” “One Tin Soldier,” “Summer Nights,” “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do,” and “Wonderful Tonight.” Finally, we sing “Stay (at Camp),” the final song. Everyone sings their parts.
“Why can’t we stay at camp,
Just a little bit longer.
We want to make our friendships,
Just a little bit stronger . . .”
It’s like time hasn’t passed at all. I feel like I’m eleven all over again. Except this time, I am sitting next to Janelle, I have Lily on my lap, and they are both singing as loud as I am.
Botts is sitting on the edge of the stage singing his heart out, too.
Where’s Gavin? I spot him in the back of the room, chatting to the Tank. He spots me looking at him and winks.
I wink back.
It’s okay, it doesn’t mean anything. Right?
After Milk and Cookies, I’m on OD again. I change into sweats and a cozy shirt, and then tuck the girls into bed one by one.
“Good night, Prague,” I say, patting her on the head.
“Good night,” she says, closing her eyes.
“Good night, Em,” I say.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Shira,” I whisper.
“Good night, Mommy,” she says.
Everyone laughs, including me.
“Oops,” she says, blushing.
“I don’t mind,” I say.
“You’re kind of like our mom here.”
“More like a big sister,” I say, and kiss her head.
The next day is a whirlwind. Tommy, one of the junior boys, has an unfortunate run-in with a canoe paddle and has to go see an emergency dentist.
His family lives in Miami, so Danish has to take him.
She grabs my arm at lunch. “Sam? I need a favor,” she says.
“Of course, what’s up?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be back for Evening Activity. Priya will cover me at GS but can you take over tonight, running the activity?”
“Sure,” I say, suddenly nervous. “What is it?”
“It’s Family Feud,” she says. “Have you seen it?”
“Of course,” I say. In the real Family Feud they ask a hundred people a question, like name the best dessert. Then the top five answers are put up on a board. Contestants have to guess the top five answers.
“You’ll have to finish putting together the surveys. It’s pretty easy. I have the questions, I just need you to ask twenty kids for answers. Hopefully I’ll be back for the activity, but if not, just run it. Make sure to do a bunk check and see that the kids all leave to get to Milk and Cookies on time. Sound okay?”
“Um . . .” I hesitate. Running an activity? That sounds scary. But I can do it. Teachers plan activities all the time.
“Sure,” I say eventually. “No problem.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Awesome. You’re the best. Thank you!”
Now what?
During Rest Hour I head to Bunk 4 in search of non-junior campers to interview. I ask them questions like name a Disney princess. Name a magical power. Name a camp dessert.
The answers range from Moana and Tiana to flying and invisibility to s’mores and chocolate pudding. I spend Free Play writing all the answers out on poster boards and then carrying them across camp to the Rec Hall.
I stand onstage.
“Hi, guys!” I say. “I’m running the activity tonight!”
“Who are you?” asks one of the junior boys.
“I’m Sam!”
“Sammy!!!!” my whole bunk cheers. I wave.
“Danish can’t be here tonight, because she’s with a camper—”
“Toothless Tommy!” one of the Bunk 5 boys yells, and the kids laugh.
“Is he really toothless?” one of the nine-year-old girls calls out.
“Is the tooth fairy coming?”
“There’s no such thing as the tooth fairy!” a boy yells.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” I say, giving the stink-eye to his counselor. I do not want to shatter anyone’s innocence at my first nighttime activity. “Tommy is going to be fine! But first let’s do a bunk check. Bunk One—”
“Is there a mic? We can’t hear you!” someone yells from the back.
“Oh, um, I don’t know. I can talk louder?” I raise my voice.
“There’s a mic on the piano!” Janelle calls out.
“Oh. Okay. One sec.” I hurry off the stage. It doesn’t look too far from the ground, so I decide to jump off, but I land weirdly on my foot, which kills.
I wince.
I hobble to the piano, pick up the mic, and try to figure out a way to turn it on. Omigod. I am totally messing this up.
“There’s a button on the side,” one of the counselors says.
Ah. Got it. I turn it on. “Testing?”
There is a ton of interference. Great. Um. I turn it off.
“You’re too close to the speaker!” someone else calls out.
Omigod. I’m like one minute away from people throwing tomatoes at me.
I try to calm myself down and carefully climb up the stairs. I kind of feel like all my camp nightmares are coming true. I’m not wearing a bathrobe, am I? Or am I bleeding through my pants?
I take another deep breath and try the mic again. “Hello?”
It works. Yes! Small miracle.
“Let’s start over,” I say. “Bunk One!”
“Check!”
So far so good. “Bunk Two!”
“Check!”
I go through them all.
“Bunk Five!”
“Check,” say JJ and Muffs.
“Six A!”
“Check!” says Talia.
“Six B!”
“CHHHHHHHECK!” says Janelle. “Go, Sammy!”
“Awesome,” I say. “We’re all here. And tonight we’re playing Family Feud!”
The room is quiet.
“Can I get some excitement, please? Tonight we’re playing Family Feud!”
The counselors clap.
“Tonight we’re playing FAMILY FEUD!”
This time everyone claps.
“That’s better! We’re going to start with Bunk One versus Bunk Five! Counselors, you can help organize but no giving answers, ’kay?”
A little girl from Bunk 1 and a boy from Bunk 5 come up.
And here we go.
Bunk 2 wins, but everyone seems to have had a great time.
“Nice work,” Gavin says to me as I send the kids off to Milk and Cookies.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Heading for a Wi-Fi run?” he asks.
Oh crap. I haven’t had a chance to call Eli today. I guess I could go now. But I really need a shower.
“I am going to try and squeeze in a shower,” I say. “I’ve been interviewing kids and making posters all day. And it’s not like he’
s awake anyway. . . .”
“Good point. You going for pizza tonight?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Great,” he says. “See you there.”
Huh. I smile. I guess I’ll see him there.
“Thank you so much,” Danish says, back in the bunk later that night. “I heard you did a good job.”
“Thanks,” I say. “How is Tommy?”
“Not actually toothless,” Danish says. “Although I suspect the nickname will stick.”
“Yikes.” I wince. “It’s a bad one.”
“Keep up the good work, Sam.”
It’s completely uncool, but I know I am beaming. “Will do.”
Janelle is OD, but I tuck all the girls in and say good night before leaving.
“Are you coming for pizza?” Lis asks me. “We’re getting a ride.”
“Yup, coming!”
I think about school. Eli is usually the one everyone invites to parties. I am the one who goes along. He’s the one everyone likes, and I’m the plus-one.
So who am I? Porny or Plus-One or Pizza Party Girl?
Here at camp, I’m feeling more and more like the last one.
It’s nice to be the one everyone likes.
It’s nice to be me. Known for who I am.
It’s nice to be here.
WEEK 2 SCHEDULE—BUNK 6A
Week 2
After a full day of POTH—Putting On the Hits—a lip-syncing contest where we lose, I am getting ready for our first staff party.
I am wearing my nicest jeans, my low-heeled sandals, and a cute black shirt that’s open in the back. I have a black sweater with me too, for when it gets chilly. I have blow-dried my hair and put on makeup. This is as glam as I can get at camp. (Glamp?) Not that I care that much about looking good, since I’m not trying to impress anyone.
Well, not totally true. I want to look good. For me.
There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?
Gavin will be at the party. We shared a pizza at Slice. Not just me and him; Muffs, Lis, and Talia had some with us.
All the counselors in the junior section will be at the party. The CITs are sitting OD so we can all go.
“The bus leaves in fifteen minutes,” I say, lining my eyes with blue in Lis’s mirror. “Are you ladies almost ready?”
“Yes!” Talia says. She turns to me. “I love your lipstick. Your whole look is so New York.”
“Thanks,” I say, almost done. “Bye, girls!” I call out, giving them all good-night hugs and tucking them in.
Just a Boy and a Girl in a Little Canoe Page 9
