Five Summers

by Una LaMarche

  “Sunglasses indoors. How very Kanye West of you,” Emma said tersely, picking at her pancakes.

  Skylar didn’t know what to say to Emma now. She should have just told her right away, or at the very least, when Emma had admitted that she was still going after Adam. That would have been hard, but it would have been the right thing to do. The display at the lake had been more “showing” than “telling,” but either way, Emma had clearly started to get the message. Even if she didn’t know that they were hooking up behind her back yet, she definitely thought Skylar was moving in on her territory. To tell her now would just make things worse. Especially since, as of around midnight, Skylar and Adam were officially over.

  The immediate aftermath of the sandbar debacle was slightly muddy in her memory thanks to the drinking, but Skylar was pretty sure that after Emma got out of the water, Jo and Nate had followed her. Maddie had helped Skylar dry off and get back into her clothes, but then she’d left, too. Adam was being kind of quiet, but he offered to walk her back to the girls’ side. They had held hands, she was sure of that, and then at one point he’d tried to kiss her. That must have been the moment the last of her buzz had worn off, because Skylar remembered the rest of the night quite clearly.

  “Not now,” she’d said, pushing him away.

  “Are you mad?” he’d asked.

  “I’m not mad, I’m just . . .” She’d been hurt, but she couldn’t tell him that. “I’m tired,” she finished.

  Adam had sighed heavily. “You came on to me like a freight train back there. And now you’re tired?”

  “Okay, maybe I’m a little mad.”

  He’d flashed his trademark grin, which usually charmed her but which suddenly felt impersonal, like a one-size-fits-all flirtation device. “I knew it,” he’d said, going in for another kiss.

  “Uh-uh,” she’d said, batting him away again. “You don’t get to do that and be all over Emma, too.”

  “I thought we were casual,” Adam said. “I thought we agreed we could hook up with other people.”

  “Yeah, people,” she’d said. “Not Emma.”

  “You don’t get to choose.”

  “Actually, when it’s my best friend, yeah I do,” she’d snapped.

  “Well, nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen.” Adam had yawned then, which had really made her furious. As soon as he’d figured out he wasn’t getting laid, he’d turned narcoleptic. So typical.

  “Don’t lie,” she’d said. “I saw you all over her.”

  “Yeah, well, she saw you all over me. Thanks for that. Very subtle.”

  “I made a mistake,” she’d admitted. “But at least I wasn’t trying to hook up with Nate right in front of you.”

  “You can do whatever you want,” he’d said. “I wouldn’t care.” As if that was a good thing.

  That was what did it. At that moment, Skylar knew Adam would never talk to her the way he talked to Emma, or look at her the way he looked at Emma. He would never choose her over Emma. And she realized she didn’t want him to. If the feelings she had for him didn’t go both ways, then she didn’t want it. She’d been through too many superficial relationships to settle yet again for a guy who treated her like an on-demand movie he could watch whenever he got the urge. She deserved someone who saw something in her that they didn’t see in anyone else. Something below the surface.

  “Skylar? Hello, Earth to Skylar. You guys, I think she passed out.” Emma’s voice swam up through her haze of hangover and heartache. Skylar took off her sunglasses and attempted a smile.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “Just tired.” This time, it was true.

  Emma’s face softened. “Maybe you should get some more sleep before we leave for the beach,” she suggested.

  “Yeah, no puking off the side of the boat,” Jo said.

  “At least not on the way there,” Maddie added with a wink. “Sexy Island has a way of making people fly their freak flags.”

  Skylar closed her eyes. She had never felt less sexy, or less confident. The reunion was not going the way she had hoped, although she realized that she’d been naive to hope it could go anyplace but disaster. Camp could never be the same as it was—and it was all her fault.

  Emma

  Reunion: Day 2

  IT WAS A PERFECT HIGH-SUMMER DAY—80 DEGREES and breezy, with a gorgeous blue sky dotted with clouds like cotton balls. As they hiked down the path to the dock, retracing their steps from the night before, Emma almost couldn’t believe it was the same place. In daylight, the dock seemed to bounce invitingly on the surface of the lake like a picture on a postcard. There was no sign of the emotional melodrama that had played out on shore just twelve hours earlier.

  Emma looked over her shoulder at Skylar, who was still sluggish despite an hour-long nap. She still looked great, of course, in her peasant blouse and cutoffs, her unwashed hair in a messy bun, and the trendy sunglasses that Emma knew were hiding tired, bloodshot eyes somehow only made her look more glamorous, like a slightly disheveled celebrity caught by paparazzi: Stars—they get wasted and act weird around their best friends’ unrequited crushes! Just like us! She’d barely spoken to Skylar all morning, which felt weird, but what was she supposed to say? Skylar hadn’t said a word to her about what had happened out on the sandbar, or her nasty attitude beforehand. Things were definitely, officially tense, and Emma knew that a day trip to the beach, no matter how perfect the weather, wasn’t going fix it.

  “Hey girl,” Maddie said, jogging up beside her. “Stop walking so fast. We can’t keep up.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Emma slowed down, and Jo soon joined them, dragging Skylar with her. Ahead of them, the sun gleamed on the planks of the dock. The rowboats, right side up now, were bobbing alongside. Each could hold four people, so the counselors would be making trips back and forth all afternoon. Jo, naturally, had insisted that they be in the first group in order to claim the best hangout spot. Jo was nothing if not strategic.

  “I wish there was some way to get to the island that didn’t involve a boat,” Skylar moaned, massaging her temples.

  “Then it wouldn’t be an island,” Emma snapped. She instantly felt bad and tried to backpedal. “But I know what you mean.”

  “It’s only a five-minute ride,” Jo said. “Don’t be such a wimp.”

  They reached the dock and joined the crowd of campers reluctantly donning their life vests.

  “Do these come in any color other than orange?” Sunny Sherman yelled to no one in particular.

  Maddie sucked in her cheeks and puckered her lips, fanning her face in a dead-on impersonation. “I’d rather die looking fabulous than live dressed like a Cheez-It,” she whispered as she slipped her vest over her head.

  “At least yours matches your hair,” Skylar said.

  “If my hair is this color,” Maddie said, gesturing to the dirty neon polyester, “do me a favor and shave my head, please.”

  “If you both don’t stop talking about life vests like they’re fashion accessories,” Jo said, “I’m going to capsize us on purpose. Now, into the boat.”

  Maddie got on first to sit in the rear—it was unanimously decided that Skylar should not be trusted with an oar—where Jo joined her. Skylar was trying to steady herself against the bobbing dock when Sunny’s voice rang out again. “Come on, we can make room!”

  Emma looked over at Sunny, Jess, and Aileen, who were sitting in a rowboat a few yards away. Kerry was still standing on shore. Since none of them were counselors, they couldn’t take the boat out unchaperoned, and with a chaperone they couldn’t all fit.

  “No, we can’t make room,” said Tina, the nineteen-year-old counselor unlucky enough to be Sunny’s chauffeur. “Four people max. Safety regulations.”

  “It’s okay,” Kerry said. “I’ll just go with the next group.”

  “But she’s so skinny!” Sunny
cried. “So am I. Together we barely make one fat person. And you couldn’t not take a fat camper, right? So what’s the big deal?”

  Tina—who was herself big-boned—looked like she wanted to throttle someone. “I don’t make the rules,” she said. “I couldn’t take four fat people, either.”

  “Really,” Kerry said, getting embarrassed that people were looking, “it’s okay.”

  “Why don’t you take my spot?” Emma volunteered. Jo and Maddie looked up at her like she was crazy.

  “I need to put sunblock on,” she explained. “Plus, I’m feeling a little nauseous, too. I think I need to sit on dry land for a few minutes. You go, take Kerry, and I’ll catch up with you.”

  Kerry looked hesitant. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Totally,” Emma said.

  “Whatever,” Jo said impatiently. “Just someone get in the boat, please.”

  Sorry, Emma mouthed to Jo as Kerry clambered in. She realized that she needed some time away from Skylar—even if it was only five minutes.

  “I have my cell,” Maddie called as they rowed away. “Text me when you get there!”

  “Okay!” Emma yelled, waving cheerfully. She didn’t bother telling Maddie that she hadn’t brought her phone. She needed time to clear her head, and besides, camping was supposed to be under the stars, not under the limitless broadband of 4G wireless Internet.

  As she sat on the grass near the dock, watching the boats leave one by one, Emma wondered if anyone would notice if she snuck back to the bunk and spent the afternoon rereading Little Women and stress-eating instead of following everyone to Wexley Island. Probably, she decided; Jo almost certainly had some kind of clipboard stashed in her backpack.

  Emma looked around for other people she knew, but she couldn’t find anyone else from their year. She knew she had a tendency to self-sabotage and psych herself out, but it seemed pretty obvious that the day was going to be a waste. The red bikini she had on under her clothes—which was a kind of racy purchase for her, and which she’d bought specifically for reunion (and, if she was being honest with herself, more specifically for Adam)—now felt silly. After all, if anything was going to happen it would have happened last night, when she’d basically thrown herself at him in her underwear. The only person who would care what she looked like in a bikini now was Jo, who would probably say something like, “Hey, Em, didn’t anyone tell you they canceled the Victoria’s Secret swimsuit catalog shoot?”

  Sneaking back to her aunt’s car and hightailing it back to New York was looking increasingly attractive, until Emma saw a familiar Sox cap in the distance. Sure enough, Adam, Nate, the twins, and a few other guys were making their way toward the dock from the boys’ side path. She thought they were too far away to see her, but then Adam raised his hand in a tentative wave, and Emma’s fight-or-flight response roared into action. If she stayed put, she realized, she would have to talk to him about Skylar and the sandbar and her amateur stripping, and the potential awkwardness of that conversation was too much for her to bear. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a boat with three people in it that was getting ready to leave, and she practically sprinted over.

  “You guys leaving?” she panted.

  “Yeah,” said the twentysomething brunette holding the oars. “You need a ride?”

  “Desperately,” Emma said.

  The girl looked strangely familiar, but it wasn’t until Emma already had one foot in the boat that she realized it was Meredith, one of the drunk girls from the bonfire.

  “Well get in,” she said. “We need another body anyway, otherwise we’ll get stuck with a weirdo.”

  “Yeah,” chirped Allie, whose Jeopardy! buzz had decidedly worn off. “And I’ll give you five dollars if you row, because my head is killing me.”

  Emma sat down next to Ruth, the third spin the bottle enthusiast, and helped steer the boat away from shore, just as Adam stepped onto the dock. “Meet me on the beach?” he called. Emma just waved, as if she hadn’t heard him.

  It didn’t take long for Emma to realize that although she’d jumped ship, she wasn’t necessarily in for a relaxing ride.

  “That guy with the fedora will not stop texting me,” Meredith groaned. “Can you say stalker?”

  Allie shuddered. “Do not remind me about the events of last night. I am never letting you talk me into tequila shots again. We’re not nineteen anymore.”

  “I just want to curl up on my towel with my Kindle,” Ruth sighed as they reached the open water.

  “What are you reading?” Emma asked.

  “Anna Karenina,” Ruth said. “I read it in high school but some of my coworkers started a book club, and this time I think I might actually get it.”

  Allie laughed. “I did my thesis on Tolstoy,” she said. “It’s only been a year since graduation and I can’t remember any of it. Do you think I can get a refund on some of my student loans?”

  “I so know what you mean,” Meredith said. “I think I’ve gotten dumber since college. Probably because I traded my brain in for a BlackBerry. Pity the first-year paralegal!” She shook her phone and studied the screen. “I can’t get a signal out here. How am I supposed to get in touch with work?”

  “You’re not,” Allie said, slapping at the phone. “Put that away.”

  “I can’t!” Meredith cried. “Some of us have real jobs.”

  “You don’t even want to be a lawyer,” Allie shot back.

  Emma studied the bags under Meredith’s eyes and the acne dotting her jaw line. She wondered if she could ever let herself end up chained to a phone, in a job she hated, getting drunk at a camp reunion just to let off steam. Apart from the acne, she realized morosely, that was already kind of her life.

  “Sorry,” Ruth said to Emma. “This must be so boring for you. What are you, sixteen?”

  “Seventeen,” Emma said quietly. She felt a stomach-turning flash of motion sickness, the same as she’d felt watching her parents drive away from the Green her first summer.

  “You’re a baaaaaaaaaby!” Allie cried, attempting to light a cigarette despite the powerful crosswinds.

  “Seventeen is the perfect age,” Meredith said, nodding down at her phone. “You’re old enough to have fun but not old enough to be held responsible.” Emma briefly wondered what Meredith’s law firm would think about her “you get to kiss me” prowess.

  “I guess,” Emma said. “But the guys act like they’re still thirteen.”

  “Oh honey,” Meredith said. “If you think they’re immature now, just wait ’til they go through four years of beer pong and intro psych seminars.” Emma bit her lip and concentrated on rowing.

  “So who was that cutie on the dock?” Ruth asked. “Is he the one you desperately needed to get away from?”

  “Yeah,” Emma said. “It’s complicated.”

  “It always is.” Meredith looked up for the first time since they’d left the mainland.

  “So, what, did you hook up with him?”

  “No,” Emma said.

  “Why not?” Allie said. “He’s adorable. And he likes you.”

  “How do you know?” Emma asked. Meredith put down her phone and touched Emma’s knee.

  “He practically dove off the dock after us. Guys don’t do that anymore when they get to be our age.”

  “Yeah,” Ruth said. “He’s way into you. And you’re the right age for him. You should go for it. I would if I was seventeen again.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” Meredith cautioned. “I thought I would want to spend all weekend drinking and chasing guys like the old days, but it turns out that now all I really want is a beach chair, a decaf soy latte, and my sudoku.” She sighed. “I am officially old!”

  Emma wanted to remind her that she’d spent at least part of the previous evening giving some guy a hickey in public, but thought better of it. All she really w
anted was to get out of the boat and get back to people her own age, instead of these frightening Ghosts of Christmas Futures, with their Kindles and their student loans and their borderline alcohol abuse.

  “We’re heeeee-re!” Allie trilled, and Emma looked over her shoulder at the fast-approaching shore. Wexley Island looked like an undeveloped miniature of the main camp property, with a short rectangle of flat beach on its south end that led out into a thick forest covering almost all the rest of it. There was an unfinished cabin on the northwest end, but other than that the only signs that human beings spent any time there were a few scattered picnic tables tethered with chains to the trees at the edge of the woods, so that they wouldn’t blow away in case of a bad storm.

  There was no dock, so Ruth and Emma just steered the boat gently in on the tide until it stuck in the sand. A few other boats were pulled up on shore, but as she climbed out Emma couldn’t see signs of Jo, Maddie, or Skylar; all she could see were a few clusters of abandoned towels and some guys playing football.

  “Bye, seventeen!” Allie called as the older girls walked up the beach clutching their tablets and bottles of sunscreen. “Don’t forget to wait for that cute boy.” Meredith, lost in her texting, just raised a hand in a distracted wave.

  Emma looked back out at the water. If she squinted, she thought she could see Adam’s Red Sox cap peeking out of a boat on the horizon.

  She decided to give him one last chance. For old times’ sake.

  Skylar

  The Third Summer ♦ Age 12

  Middle of Second Session

  “Friendship Rule: Best friends ALWAYS kiss and tell!”

  “OKAY,” SKYLAR SAID, LEANING IN CONSPIRA- torially. “Say when.” They were sitting up in the barn loft during the afternoon free period, all four of them high on sugar from a one-pound bag of Skittles Jo had smuggled up in the pouch of her sweatshirt. As the rain whipped against the roof, they had painstakingly pooled them and divided them by color. Skylar liked the reds, Emma got the yellows, Jo took the purples, Maddie got the greens, and they saved the oranges—the communal least favorite—to play Skit-ball, a game they’d invented that involved flicking the candies off the edge of the loft and trying to hit beams on the other side of the barn. But Skit-ball could only be played once, since retrieving the playing pieces took so much effort, and so they’d moved on to MASH, which was more up Skylar’s alley. It was Emma’s turn, so Jo and Maddie had started a game of spit with the deck of cards they kept stashed under a box of extension cords. Emma closed her eyes and Skylar started drawing a spiral, around and around and around and around and—