Just a Boy and a Girl in a Little Canoe

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “You’re looking hot!” Prague says.

  “You are too young to use the word hot,” I say. “Unless you’re talking about weather . . . or soup.”

  She blows me a kiss.

  The four of us say goodbye and hurry down the road to the office to catch the bus. We join and pick up some of the other counselors as we walk down the road. Everyone is so happy to be getting out of camp for a party. It’s a nice night—the sky is inky black and the stars are bright and it’s not too cold. Josh and Jill are staying behind to make sure nothing goes horribly wrong.

  I climb onto the bus and take an empty row. Talia sits beside me. She’s wearing her hair down and extra curly.

  I’m not sure what to expect at the party. Will everyone be making out?

  Sigh. Maybe there will be cell service?

  At least Gavin will be there. Without anyone to make out with either.

  “So what exactly happens at a staff party?” I ask.

  “Dancing, mostly,” Talia says.

  “The counselors were always so loud when they came back.”

  “They were probably drunk,” she says. “Mine always were.”

  “Ooooh, that explains it,” I say. “But how? Everyone’s under twenty-one.”

  “There’s always some booze being snuck around.”

  I do not think I want to get drunk and risk being fired. That would not look good for future teaching jobs at all.

  The engine turns on. There are woots from the back. The bus starts rolling down the dirt road.

  More cheers.

  When we turn onto a bigger street, the signal bars on my phone come on. I wish it were earlier so I could call Eli. We haven’t actually spoken on the phone for like three days now. Talia is checking her phone too. My texts stream in.

  Eli: Hi babe.

  Eli: Look at me with David’s Michelangelo!

  Eli: Night, Beautiful. Hope you had a great day. Wish we could talk more.

  “I love how much your boyfriend misses you,” Talia says, reading over my shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I say, although to me the “Wish we could talk more” feels kind of like a dig. It says, You are not trying hard enough to call me.

  He’s in freakin’ Europe! Isn’t he having fun?

  I wish we could talk more, too. I just can’t run to the office every period.

  I also have a few texts from Lauren and Emily. And then also from Fancy’s annoying mom, which is how I’ve identified her in my phone. Apparently I give mean nicknames now too.

  Fancy’s Annoying Mom: Hi, Sam! I looked on the website and saw a group picture of Francie—she wasn’t smiling. Is she unhappy?

  “Group picture?” I ask Talia. “Do they post pictures of the kids somewhere?”

  “Um, yeah. The pics that Jill is always taking? She posts them online.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes way. What did you think they were for?”

  “I don’t know. A slideshow at the end of the summer?”

  “That too. But she also posts like fifty pics online every night. The parents sit there and wait for them. Parents are crazy.”

  Fancy’s Annoying Mom: Her cheeks also look a little flushed. Is she wearing her sunscreen?

  Fancy’s Annoying Mom: Also wondering if she is using conditioner in her hair? Please make sure she does. Her hair gets tangled. It looks tangled in the picture.

  Fancy’s Annoying Mom: Hello?

  Fancy’s Annoying Mom: I would really appreciate if you responded.

  Three dots appear on my phone and I drop it in my lap hot-potato style. Stalker!

  “OMG,” I say. “Fancy’s mother keeps texting me.”

  “Oh no!” Talia says. “How did she get your number?”

  “She met my mom at a grocery store . . . long story.”

  “She’s the worst. She calls Josh twice a day. She complains about everything! What did she say?”

  “That Fancy looks unhappy in the pictures.”

  “Just ignore her. Do not engage. Do not engage! The worst kids always have the worst parents. And the worst parents always tip the worst at Visiting Day.”

  “Tip?” I say. “Parents tip?”

  “The nicer ones do,” she says.

  “There’s no way my parents tipped,” I say.

  “Then they’re assholes.”

  I laugh. “But I was a good kid. I think?”

  “I was a bitch,” she says, and goes back to her phone.

  I flip to Instagram. We’re not allowed to post while we’re at camp, but I can still see what Eli is up to.

  I flip to his stories and see that he posted a picture. He’s with a group of people—girls and guys. So many people I don’t know. He hasn’t tagged them. Guys. Girls. Girls holding beers.

  Pretty girls holding beers.

  The drinking age in Europe is only eighteen. My shoulders tighten at the idea of him on the other side of the world drinking with random pretty girls.

  I flash back to a keg party, his hand under my skirt.

  He better not put his hands under any of these girls’ skirts!

  I study their outfits. They are all wearing sundresses. I hate them all.

  I really should call every day.

  Now I’m the one being needy.

  I click off my phone and put it away. I am not going to worry about Eli hooking up with someone in Europe! Sure, he’s probably flirting with other girls and that’s fine! I am flirting with other boys! There is nothing wrong with flirting!

  But I should call more. Should I call now?

  No. It’s the middle of the night there.

  Everyone cheers when we pull into the restaurant’s parking lot. The door is open and the music is already blasting even though no one is inside. There’s a table filled with cupcakes.

  Aw. Cupcakes.

  After about ten minutes or so, people start dancing. All the lights are on, so it feels less like a party and more like an awkward sixth-grade social.

  “Hey,” says Gavin, coming up beside me. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I thought they’re all free,” I say.

  “They are. I was trying to be chivalrous,” he says with a smile.

  “Ah,” I say. “Well then, yes. I’ll take a Coke.”

  “Two rum and Cokes,” he tells the bartender.

  The bartender raises an eyebrow. “It’s a dry bar,” he says.

  “Boo,” Gavin says. “Two Cokes, then.”

  Eli isn’t drinking Cokes. Eli is drinking actual alcohol.

  “Does it seem unfair to you that our significant others are out there guzzling Heinekens and French wine while we’re drinking rumless Cokes?” I ask.

  “It does,” he says. “We can drink on our day off at least. Are you coming with us to Botts’s?”

  “What’s happening at Botts’s?”

  “He has a cottage about thirty minutes away. We will drink Heineken and French wine. He told me he was going to invite you. For our day off. If you can take a Tuesday/Wednesday.”

  That’s sweet. “Oh, thanks,” I say. “He hasn’t mentioned it. I was maybe going to see my parents . . .”

  “Parents? Where are they?”

  “Rhode Island.”

  “What? That’s too far. And parents are no fun. Come to Botts’s. Heineken! French wine!”

  “Honestly,” I say, “I don’t even like Heineken.”

  He laughs. “What about French wine?”

  “I can make that work,” I say. “But in a taste test I would not be able to tell the difference between French or Italian wine. Or wine from New Jersey.”

  “Here’s what I know about wine—white is served cold,” he says.

  I laugh. “Look at you, fancy pants.”

  I lean against the wall and look around. But not at Gavin’s fancy pants. Which are actually jeans. Which encase a pretty nice ass.

  Not looking!

  “Want to take bets on who’s going to hook up with who tonight?” he asks.
/>   “That seems wrong,” I say. “But yes.”

  We both spot JJ in the corner dancing with one of the swim staff. “That looks possible,” I say.

  “JJ has been eyeing that guy for weeks.”

  I spot Lis, Talia, and their friend Allie whispering to each other in the corner. She’s tall, with long, wavy brown hair.

  Muffs is trying to get Lis’s attention.

  “Does he have any chance with her?” Gavin asks.

  “I don’t think so,” I say.

  “Is it the earmuffs?”

  “Possibly what the earmuffs are hiding.”

  “Lis likes Botts, huh?” he asks.

  “I cannot reveal bunk secrets,” I say. “But do you think she has a chance with him?”

  He hesitates. “Maybe. He had a serious girlfriend for the last few summers. Cassie. But they broke up in the fall. And she didn’t come back.”

  “Oh, that’s sad.”

  Then he laughs.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been meaning to give you a heads-up—Eric has a thing for you.”

  “Eric?” I ask.

  “The office guy!”

  I blush. “The stoner? Seriously?”

  “Yes. He says you spend a lot of time there.”

  “Yes, calling my boyfriend!”

  “He’s not picking up on your reasons for visiting.”

  “Can you tell him I’m not available?” I say. “He should like someone else.”

  “Feelings are feelings, I guess?”

  Our eyes lock a moment longer than they should.

  Just then Botts walks up to us. “Rosenspan! What are you doing for your day off?”

  “Coming to your cottage!” I say. “Drinking French wine!”

  Botts punches Gavin’s shoulder. “He invited you already? Bastard. Stole my thunder.”

  “I did,” Gavin says.

  “So you’re in?” Botts asks me.

  “I am. As long as I can take the Tuesday/Wednesday. Let me check with Talia and Danish. And thanks for the invite.”

  I laugh and go find Talia, who is still whispering in the corner, laughing with Lis and Allie.

  She waves me over.

  “Our co-counselor is one second away from doing a pole dance,” she says. The counselors beside her laugh.

  I look over at Janelle. She’s standing on a chair, dancing, in a hot pink tube top. Smokin’ Hot Benji and Jamon, one of the Australian kitchen staff, are dancing beside her.

  “She’s drunk,” Talia says.

  “I think she’s just naturally spirited,” I say.

  “No, Smokin’ Hot Benji has a flask,” Lis says.

  “She’s totally going to hook up with one of them tonight,” Talia says.

  “She’s just dancing,” I say. I think about Gavin. I think about Eli and the sundress girls. “Not all flirting is prelude to hooking up.”

  “We’ll see,” Talia says. “But my money’s on Jamon.”

  “Mine’s on Smokin’ Hot Benji,” Lis says. “They were almost making out the other day. Sam?”

  “Since I have to be celibate all summer, and since I am hoping to live vicariously through you people, I am hoping for Smokin’ Hot Tennis Benji.”

  “Okay, Porny,” Talia says with a laugh.

  I know she’s joking, but my cheeks heat up, and I turn around before she can see.

  I wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of soft moaning.

  I open my eyes for a split second and see two bodies in Janelle’s bed, under the covers.

  I put my pillow over my head and go back to sleep.

  “Rise and shine, everyone!” Danish says. She’s standing in front of our doorway. “Time to get up!”

  Janelle groans. Unfortunately, I’m at this point very familiar with her groaning sounds.

  At least the guy is gone. I saw Jamon leave just as the sun was coming up.

  And I will be buying some earplugs on my day off.

  Janelle pushes her covers off her face.

  “Fun night?” I ask her.

  “Oh yeah,” she says, laughing. “Super fun. We didn’t wake you, did we?”

  “You woke me,” Talia calls from the back room.

  “And me,” Lis says.

  “And me,” I add.

  She laughs even harder. “I am so sorry! Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I didn’t want to . . . interrupt?” Lis says.

  “Next time just throw something at me,” she says.

  “Or maybe next time you could go to his bunk,” Talia says.

  “Totally,” Janelle says. “I told him to come visit and he did! I wasn’t sure he was going to come!”

  “Oh, he definitely came,” Talia says.

  She laughs even harder. “Ha! We didn’t have sex. But yeah, still fun. I’m totally going to be a zombie all day.”

  She jumps out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

  “That was gross, yeah?” Lis asks, zipping up her sweatshirt.

  “Yeah,” Talia says.

  “I just wish they could have gone somewhere more private,” I say. I am definitely getting earplugs on my day off. “Oh, Talia, before I forget, are you okay with me taking Tuesday/Wednesday for my day off? That means I leave Tuesday night and come back Wednesday?”

  “Yeah, and that’s fine. Lis and I were both going to take Friday/Saturday together. Will you be okay with just Janelle? Promise to be back before the Saturday overnight.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” It’s not like Talia and Lis do that much to help.

  “If Janelle brings someone back, you can always try sleeping in my bed,” Talia offers. “At least you won’t be right on top of them.”

  I sigh. She has the top bunk. “I’m not sure I want an aerial view.”

  “Don’t go! Don’t go!” Em cries, wrapping her arms around my waist. The girls are walking to flagpole, and I am heading to the office where I’m supposed to meet Botts and friends. I am carrying a backpack with my clothes for the night.

  “I’m sorry, girls!” I say, hugging them. “I’ll be back tomorrow! It’s just one day!”

  “Don’t leave me!” Talia cries.

  I laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I doubt it,” she says. “What happens if I call in sick?”

  “Lis and Janelle have to watch all of them.”

  “I will kill you,” Lis says, glaring.

  “Will you bring doughnuts?” Fancy asks.

  “Yeah! Bring us doughnuts!”

  “The chocolate frosting kind,” Fancy says. “The best counselors bring doughnuts.”

  “Is that a thing?” I ask Talia.

  “You’re asking if doughnuts are a thing?” she asks.

  “Is it a thing for counselors to bring back something for the kids?”

  She nods. “Yes. For kids and co-counselors. I like mine with sprinkles. Didn’t your counselors bring you stuff?”

  “I think I’m remembering Munchkins,” I say. “But I’ll see what I can do. Now line up, ladies! Have a great evening and I’ll see you tomorrow night!” I readjust my backpack, blow them all kisses, and head to the office.

  Gavin is already there. His backpack is slung over his shoulder. He is still wearing his sunglasses even though it’s after six.

  Emily would totally make fun of him for that. I kind of want to, but I don’t.

  “All good?” he asks. “Botts just left a few minutes ago with Lawrence, Brody, and Allie. Since we can’t all fit in one car, I said I would drive with you. Also, I have no car.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say. Just the two of us in the car. Nothing weird about that. We’re friends. Meaninglessly flirty friends. “And six of us are staying there? How many rooms does he have? Do we have to double up?” I don’t really know Allie. I am not sure I want to share a room with a virtual stranger. Although as soon as I say the words, I worry he thinks I mean doubling up with him.

  He laughs. “You have obviously never seen his cottage. Th
ere are a million rooms.”

  “A million?”

  “Probably. It has wings.”

  I smile. “It’s a flying cottage?”

  He blushes. “No, I mean—never mind. You’ll see.” Gavin types the address into his phone.

  “So tell me who the other people are who are coming tonight,” I say.

  “Allie and Lawrence were together last year. Brody is kind of a loner. He’s the Arts and Crafts specialist.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I heard he’s doing the nasty with the archery specialist.”

  Doing the nasty? Emily would make fun of that, too. “How do you know that?”

  “People like to gossip on sailboats,” he says. “Allie’s the biggest gossip, by the way.”

  “Oh. Okay.” And why is he telling me this?

  “She’s friendly with Kat. They went to the same preschool or something in New York.”

  Ah. “Small world,” I say. Is he trying to tell me that he’s not going to flirt with me in front of Allie? That I shouldn’t flirt with him?

  Whatever.

  After about twenty minutes, I pull onto a dirt road that leads us to a massive house.

  “This is a cottage?” I say. “More like a village.”

  “A small village,” he says.

  It’s seriously about the size of my dorm building at NYU. It looks like a wood cabin, but a massive one. To the left is the lakefront. Instead of a sandy beach, there is a perfectly manicured green lawn leading to a white dock. Docked in the water are a rowboat, a motorboat, and a canoe. The water is bright blue. “This is all his?”

  “His family’s,” Gavin says quickly. “They’re in Europe.”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “Us. We are not in Europe.”

  “With this house, maybe I don’t mind,” I say.

  I turn the ignition off. I sneak a peek at my phone to see if there’s service. There is!

  I have ten new texts. Seven are from Fancy’s Annoying Mom. One from my mom. One from my dad. One from Eli.

  Eli: Call me! I miss you!

  I should call him before he goes to sleep, but I really want to settle in. I drop my phone in my backpack and head for the house.

  It’s strange toggling between real life and camp. As soon as I get to the house, I take a steaming hot shower, without flip-flops, in my own private bathroom, in my own private guest room. It’s a beautiful lilac-wallpapered room, with a crisply made double bed and painting of a lakeside sunset on the wall. After getting out of the shower, I climb into the freshly made sheets and finally text Eli.