Just a Boy and a Girl in a Little Canoe

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “I’m going to run the whole thing, with the kids,” he says.

  “If you’re up for it,” I say.

  “No problem,” he says.

  “I’ll make sure everything is set,” I say. “So that’s it? Day one is done? Do you think we’re in the lead?”

  “We’re definitely tied with yellow at least. Beating red for sure.”

  “Good,” I say. “Good night, then.”

  “You too. Sweet dreams.”

  “When I say sweet, you say dreams. Sweet!”

  “Dreams!”

  “Sweet!”

  “Dreams!”

  “Omigod, we’re losing it,” I say.

  “We really are. Blue!”

  “Balls!” I say, and giggle my way up the porch and into my bunk.

  Professional enough.

  The next day, I’m walking up to the lookout to check on the five inter girls who are going to be making a human pyramid when my phone rings. I’ve been secretly carrying it around with me to snap some pictures, but had not expected it to work. Why is there no service hardly anywhere in camp, but there is service in the middle of the forest? Cell service, you so crazy.

  The relay is supposed to start in five minutes.

  It’s Eli.

  “Hello!” I say.

  “Hello, Beautiful!” he says. “I was starting to worry about you! Where are you?”

  “Literally in the middle of a forest. Where are you?”

  “Still Prague. But leaving for Switzerland today. I was going to leave you a message. I’m so happy to hear your voice instead.”

  “I can only talk for a minute—it’s color war,” I say. “I’m captain!”

  “You would love it here. It’s gorgeous. How are you? Your voice sounds weird. Are you sick?”

  “No, just hoarse. Lots of cheering. It’s this crazy two days of competitions. Like the Olympics. I’m head of the blue team. Which is a big deal. So I haven’t slept in two days because we’re—I’m—running the whole thing. And the relay race starts in five minutes. So I have to check on the human pyramids.” I know I’m rambling, but I can’t stop. Once again, I am not mentioning Gavin! I’m running the whole thing? Really?

  “I have no idea what you just said. Was that English?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Last night we—”

  “Attention, all campers and counselors. Attention, all campers and counselors. The relay race begins in two minutes. Two minutes until the relay race begins.”

  “I’m so so so sorry, I want to hear all about everything, but I really have to go,” I say.

  He sighs. “Okay. Enjoy your game.”

  The way he says game rubs me the wrong way. I’m not playing Jenga. “It’s not just a game, it’s my job.”

  “What?”

  “It’s my job! I’m working! I am sorry I can’t talk all the time! But I’m working!”

  “It’s not a real job, Sam.”

  My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I have SMALL CHILDREN who rely on me. I’m helping them through what for a lot of them is their first time ever away from home. There’s all kinds of social and emotional learning that goes on at camp, community building, team building—it’s not just a game, Eli.”

  “Okay, don’t snap at me.”

  All the stress and adrenaline comes tumbling out of my mouth. “I meant it when I said I don’t get a lot of sleep here. And I’m working every second I’m awake. When I pee, I’m working. When I shower, I’m working. This color war, I have to organize huge numbers of people, and make sure the kids are happy, and working together, and deal with people being anxious and scared. I have to show them they can do it. I’m being a role model. And you never ask me about anything that’s happening here. You just make jokes about bugs and whatever. You know I want to be a teacher. You know education is important to me. And this is, like, the first time I’ve ever gotten to do anything really related to that, besides babysitting, and I’m working my butt off, and you just call it a game.”

  “Isn’t it a game, though? Color war?”

  “Yes, but—” Suddenly, I don’t feel like making him try to understand. “I have to go. The race is about to start and I need to win. I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll try you tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” he says, and I can hear the edge in his voice. “If you’re not too busy.”

  I hang up as fast as I can, pissed off. If I’m not too busy? Seriously? After all that?

  Screw him.

  And just like that, bam, I’m back in the game, and Eli is on the other side of the world.

  Canoe racing!

  Human pyramids!

  Froop Loop sorting!

  Gavin runs alongside the kids the entire time. At some point he takes off his shirt.

  I am not the only counselor staring. I catch all the CIT girls making googly eyes. Just like when we were kids.

  I run beside him. I do not take off my shirt.

  Blue team gets to the beach first! Woot! We start our bonfire. But the yellow team is right behind us! Unfortunately the Tank is not only a killer at tug-of-war, he is also great at bonfires.

  Gavin is in the thick of the smoke with the other staff working on the fire, while I am getting the kids to cheer them on.

  “Burn, baby, burn! Burn, baby, burn!”

  “B-L-U-E, blue team on to victory!”

  “Blue team for the win!”

  Suddenly the yellow team and ours are tied. Both of our fires are burning and the ropes are turning black. Which will break first?

  Their fire goes sky high.

  Their rope breaks in half.

  “The yellow team wins!” Josh yells.

  Crap. Crap crap crap.

  The yellow team is all cheers.

  I look at Gavin. We both make a face.

  My whole team looks sad.

  “It’s all right, it’s okay, we’ll still beat you, anyway!” Janelle shouts. She motions to the juniors to sing along. “It’s all right, it’s okay, we’ll still beat you, anyway!”

  I try to shrug off the disappointment and join her cheer.

  We spend the rest of the day practicing for the finale tonight. We teach the kids the song, we check on the senior skit, the junior cheer, the CIT magic act, and the inter dance. Our skit is funny and our juniors are adorable, although teaching them the cheer is hard since the seven-year-olds can barely read. The inter dance is a hot mess. The blue team got the best inter campers on their team according to the staff, and our CIT magic show does not seem that magical. Our song is good. It could be great. It would be great. If we were not so off-key.

  Gavin and I, on the other hand, are very on-key.

  Instead of splitting up, we run from the beach to the dining hall together. He holds the walkie-talkie, I hold the clipboard.

  We overhear the red team’s junior song on Lower Field and share a look that says, Ours is soooo much better.

  “Don’t forget your water bottles!” I call out to the kids. “And your—”

  “Hats!” he finishes.

  We are exhausted. We are a team. We are delirious.

  We push through the day until eight o’clock, when the whole camp heads to the Rec Hall.

  Everyone is abuzz. Everyone is wearing their colors. We are in second place but it’s all about tonight.

  “Okay, everyone, quiet!” Botts says. We all scream our quiet-down cheers.

  “Red!”

  “Hot!” the kids yell back.

  “Blue!” we yell.

  “Ribbon!” our kids yell back.

  And finally:

  “Mellow!”

  “Yellow!”

  First up is the junior cheer. Which is pretty much just a song, but cheered. The yellow team goes first. Even though it’s the opposing team, I can’t help but think the kids are adorable. Especially Prague and Em. They sing a version of “Here Comes the Sun.” Their noses are painted yellow. There are lots of jazz hands. Everyone oohs and aahs.

  Talia d
oes the movements in front to help the kids along. It is seriously cute.

  Next come our juniors! They sing—and by sing I mean scream—the words to the first minute of “Blue Suede Shoes.” It is super cute and short, and involves kicking their feet up and spinning. Lily does three perfect cartwheels across the stage. We totally won this one. Janelle killed it.

  I am so proud I feel like bursting.

  I wrap my arms around Janelle. “You are THE BEST.”

  “Of course I am!” she says back.

  Next up are the inter dances, which we for sure lose, and then the senior skits. Finally, it’s time for the team song.

  We’re last.

  “Let’s do this!” Gavin cries.

  We pile onto the stage. We wait for the first few notes of “Shallow” on the piano. One. Two. Three.

  The juniors sing, the inters sing, the seniors sing, and we all sing our hearts out. We sing about best friends, and time going too fast, and blue skies.

  On the final chorus, my eyes fill with tears.

  “We’ll miss the days, we’ll miss the nights.

  Here we’re not alone

  So much we share, we’ll see you next year

  Blue Springs is our home.”

  Cheesy, yes. But so good. This summer is the best. Camp is the best.

  Why did I miss so many years of it? Because of one mean girl? I wish I could tell my eleven-year-old self what I know now. A nickname is just a nickname. You don’t have to let it define you, or run away from it either. It’s not you—it’s her. Stay strong. There are true friends out there. Find them. Focus on them.

  And I know that even though I can’t tell my eleven-year-old self that, I can tell my campers that. I can show them. I am showing them.

  Time does go so fast.

  It feels like I just got here, but on the other hand, like I’ve been here forever.

  After our song is done, we all cheer like crazy. Then the red team starts to cheer and the yellow team starts to cheer and everyone is stomping on their benches and on the floor and the room is alive with noise and happiness.

  “B-L-U-E! Blue team on to victory! B-L-U-E! Blue team on to victory!”

  “We are red! The other teams are dead!”

  “Yellow! Submarine! Yellow! Submarine!”

  I spot the head staff sneaking out of the room, presumably to tally the points. My watch says it’s already ten. It’s going to be a late night.

  A few minutes later, Jill comes onstage and motions to us to quiet everyone down.

  “Red!”

  “Hot!” the kids yell back.

  “Blue!” we yell.

  “Ribbon!” our kids yell back.

  And finally:

  “Mellow!”

  “Yellow!”

  “All teams!” Jill calls out. “Please make your way to the pool to find out who wins!”

  “The pool?” I say to Gavin. “Why?”

  He shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  The teams squeeze through the doors and we all head to the pool, laughing and giddy with nerves. We congregate on the pool lawn.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Danish says. She is using a megaphone. “The six captains are going to stand on the edge of the pool. Six members of the head staff will stand behind them. On the count of three, the two winning captains will be pushed into the pool!”

  Seriously? Everyone except for the captains cheers.

  “So if we win, we lose, and if we lose, we win?” I say to Gavin as we make our way toward the pool with the other captains. I glance down at my favorite jeans and my electric-blue sweater.

  “Should we all take off our shoes just in case?” Ilana asks.

  “We definitely should.”

  The six of us kick off our shoes and socks.

  “Maybe we should just all get completely naked,” Brody says.

  “There’s no way that’s happening,” Audrey says.

  “I would, but it’s really cold,” Gavin says.

  “You think it’s going to be warm getting out of the pool all wet?” Brody asks.

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Smokin’ Hot Benji tells him.

  “Now I don’t even want to win,” I say.

  “Yes we do,” Gavin says.

  “Yes we do,” I agree.

  “Let’s do this!” Priya says, her voice reverberating through the megaphone.

  Everyone cheers.

  “Step back, guys!” Jill says.

  The six of us all stand by the deep end of the water.

  Danish stands behind me.

  Botts stands behind Gavin.

  “Tell me somebody brought towels,” I say.

  “That would have been smart,” Priya says. “Unfortunately, we did not.”

  Botts takes the megaphone. “And the winner . . . of this year’s color war . . . is . . .”

  My heart races. I have never been pushed into a pool! I want to be pushed into the pool! I want to win! I will be very disappointed if I don’t get pushed into the pool!

  But I also don’t really want to get wet.

  “. . . The BLUE TEAM!”

  I feel Danish’s hands on my back and the next thing I know I’m falling face-first into the water. And it’s cold! Ah! Actually, it’s warm, but it’s still shocking. But this means I won! I won color war! I am the best captain ever!

  I pop up from under the surface and hear the deafening cheers from my team outside and then Gavin is hugging me and screaming, “We won! We did it!”

  “We did it!” I scream, trying not to be pulled under.

  The other captains jump in too.

  Gavin pulls me close and I feel the water on his skin, and his breath on my neck.

  We hold on to each other way longer than we should.

  Janelle brings me extra clothes, so after the kids go to a super late Milk and Cookies, the other captains, Gavin, and I take turns using the pool showers.

  Gavin is in the one next to me.

  On the other side of this curtain, Gavin is naked. Naked, naked, naked Gavin.

  Naked, soapy Gavin.

  Keep it professional.

  Professional, naked, soapy Gavin.

  “Can we get some food?” Audrey says afterward. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” Gavin says.

  “It’s already eleven,” Benji says.

  “But Jill said no curfew for any of us tonight,” I remind them.

  “I have the keys to the kitchen,” Botts says. “And I know where the good stuff is.”

  “Booze?” Gavin asks.

  He shakes his head. “Ice cream sandwiches.”

  Brody and Ilana head back to their bunks, but the rest of us follow Botts through camp and to the kitchen. He unlocks the door, and then turns on the light. “I’ll show you where the snacks are kept.”

  We go into the cupboard and find all the cookies and snacks.

  “Yessssss,” I say. “I found the black and whites! These are the best.” I bite into one. Ah. Heavenly. “Do you think I can take a glass of milk?”

  “I can do better than that. Take a glass of chocolate milk,” Botts says.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I say.

  Audrey laughs.

  “You want?” I ask Gavin.

  “Sure,” he says.

  I pour us both glasses. “To us!” I say.

  He clinks with me. “To . . . us,” he says.

  Our eyes lock.

  My heart starts to race again.

  One kiss wouldn’t be the end of the world. I can kiss him one time, and then I’ll say, we can’t do this, I have a boyfriend and you have a girlfriend, and he’ll pull away and agree with me, and then we’ll laugh and shake it off, and it will be five minutes of fun (hot, smoldering fun) and then it will be over. What happens at camp does not have to affect real life.

  It’s not like I would ever even see him again! He goes to school in Maryland!

  He puts his arm around my shoulder.
“We did it.”

  “We did,” I say. I put my head on his shoulder.

  “Tomorrow is going to be so weird,” Audrey says. “I’ve been running a team for two days and now I go back to dealing with just my bunk. So boring.”

  “Do you like your bunk?” I ask.

  “They’re assholes,” Audrey says. “Hilarious assholes. But assholes. Girls get meaner as they get older. I should have asked for juniors, but . . . I don’t want lice.”

  “My girls don’t have lice!”

  “Yet.” She laughs and yawns. “I need to sleep.”

  “I need to lock up,” Botts says, and we all follow him out of the kitchen.

  The three of them wave as they head toward Upper Field.

  “Are you tired?” Gavin asks.

  I am, but I’m also not. And I think the question actually means, do you want the night to be over?

  I don’t.

  “No,” I say. “Wired, actually. Oh, that rhymes. When I say tired, you say wired! Tired!”

  “Wired?”

  “Tired!”

  “Wired!”

  I laugh. I am giddy. I am nervous. I am charged with electricity.

  “I’m not tired either,” he says. “Winning was really fun. Losing would have been a bummer.”

  “But we won!”

  “You won,” he says. “You were a great captain.”

  “Thank you!” I say. It’s nice to be appreciated. “So were you. You ran the whole relay!”

  “We were a great team.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “We were.”

  We’re standing on the Dining Hall porch, facing each other. The light is on overhead. “Where should we go next?” I ask. “Should we break into the art room? Eat all the art supplies?”

  “I’m not sure how tasty the paint will be.”

  “I bet the clay is delicious.”

  Since the A&C is underneath the Dining Hall, we are there in two seconds. I sit down on the bench on the porch. Below us is the waterfront, and we can see the moon reflecting in the lake.

  It’s just the two of us. Alone. I can barely breathe.

  He sits down right beside me, almost touching me, and we’re both looking straight out at the lake.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi,” I say back.

  “I really want to kiss you,” he says.

  “I really want to kiss you too,” I say. “But I . . .” My words trail off.

  His lifts his hand and his fingers graze the top of my arm. My whole body is alive.