Yours Till Niagara Falls, Abby

by Jane O'Connor

“OUR LAST DAY. I can’t believe it,” Abby was saying as she finished packing. “It doesn’t feel like the end of the summer. I mean, nothing momentous has happened.”

  “I survived in one piece. That’s momentous enough,” Roberta said, sweeping all the medicine off her shelf into a plastic zipper bag. “Last year I came home with two broken fingers.”

  “Ouch!” Abby cried as she fumbled with the suitcase lock. “I’m gonna break mine trying to get this stupid thing closed.” Abby had stuffed in all her souvenirs of the summer—the china egg from Roberta’s parents, a scrapbook of snapshots, the shrunken head from Eileen, and assorted arts and crafts projects including an elaborate Indian feather headdress for Emily. “It’s lucky I couldn’t find my jeans or my slicker. They wouldn’t have fit in anyway.” Then Abby giggled. “Somehow I have a feeling Ma isn’t going to see it that way.”

  Late in the afternoon, everybody climbed in their bathing suits for one last swim. Abby decided not to go with the other mackerels. Instead, she jumped into the Fish Bowl with the guppies and goldfish. It wasn’t just that she wanted to be with Roberta and Eileen. From the Fish Bowl, Abby couldn’t see out to the dolphin float. It absolutely killed her to watch Bonnie out there.

  Abby grabbed Roberta’s hand. “I’m gonna show you something Laurel taught us the other day. It’s called a T.B., for tushy bump, and it’s really fun.”

  “Go find somebody else to be your guinea pig,” said Roberta. She tried to paddle away but Abby’s grip was firm.

  “Lookit, I promise you won’t drown. Just take a deep breath and when I count to three we both go underwater, understand?”

  Then still holding hands, they brought their knees up close to their chests, pressed their feet against each other’s ... and pushed. Up shot their legs, their tushies bumped, and they both surfaced, spluttering and laughing.

  Abby shook the water out of her eyes. “See? I told you it was fun.”

  “Eileen, come here!” Roberta was shouting. “We got something neat to show you!”

  By the time the whistle for “All out” was blown, there was only an hour left until Banquet Dinner.

  The girls of Buttercup busily spruced themselves up for the big night. Since Marty was nowhere in sight, everyone, except Lisa, sampled the lipsticks from her make-up case.

  Abby carefully applied some “Passionately Pink.” “For God’s sake, don’t be such a poop,” she said to Lisa. “Whoever’s going to be prize camper has already been picked.”

  “For your information, I wasn’t even thinking of that,” Lisa snapped.

  Roberta smiled widely into the bathroom mirror and smacked together her ruby-red lips. “This color is definitely me!”

  “Hurry up and finish getting ready,” Abby whispered to her. “Remember we have something to do before we go to the Mess Hall.”

  “Oh, that,” Roberta said, turning down her lip-sticked mouth. “I still think it’s a dumb idea.”

  “That’s your problem,” Abby hissed. “You just have no sentiment. Now HURRY UP.”

  Abby grabbed the necessary items and pushed Roberta out the door and down to the summerhouse which was curtained off from the Mess Hall and the rest of the camp by a thick stand of birches and pine.

  Abby fished out her pen and a piece of paper from her blazer pocket and carefully wrote in majestically curling letters:

  “I’m just warning you,” Roberta grumbled, “I get faint at the sight of blood—especially my own.” Abby paid her no mind. She produced a safety pin from her pocket, blew the lint off it, scrinched up her eyes, and quickly jabbed her finger. A dot of red appeared. “See! That didn’t hurt a bit.”

  “Do it and do it fast.” Roberta held out her hand and turned her face away. “Ouch!”

  “I haven’t touched you yet!”

  “OUCH! You did now.” Roberta waggled her wounded hand. “I’ll probably get gangrene,” she grumbled. “Only for you would I do this.”

  Abby gazed at her fondly. “Dummy, that’s the point. You’re not supposed to go around jabbing yourself for just anybody.”

  Then they pressed their pricked fingertips together and each made a bloody fingerprint beside their signatures.

  “Now it’s official,” Abby said with satisfaction. She knelt down and began digging up a little dirt. “This is where we’ll bury our blood pact. And next year, if we’re here, we can come and dig it up.”

  Roberta shook her head furiously. “Fat chance. There isn’t going to be any next year. No way am I coming back to this dump.”

  “Famous last words,” said Abby, leaning back on her heels. “Forget about next year. Who can tell what’s going to happen then, right?” Abby had to smile at her own words. That should be my theme song, she thought.

  Then they buried the letter, tamped down the ground, and placed a stone on top as a marker. “That does it,” Abby said. “Now we’re really blood sisters.”

  Roberta slung an arm around her as they headed for the Mess Hall. “Well, I guess I was getting kind of sick of being an only child.”

  For Banquet Dinner the Mess Hall had been transformed with twists of green and white crepe paper looped back and forth across the ceiling and sweet-smelling pine branches on every table.

  “This meal was really good,” Abby paused as she worked her way through a second piece of blueberry pie and ice cream.

  “They always give us a good send-off,” Roberta smiled, exposing teeth stained deep purple. “I guess they figure they owe it to us, before throwing us back into the cruel world, sob! sob!”

  Just then Aunt Tillie stood up at the head table and like magic the room began to quiet down.

  “Goody,” whispered Lisa. “Now we get to the important stuff.”

  Bonnie looked excited too.

  “The way I figure it,” Phyllis told her, “you’re sure to get at least five awards.”

  “Wow, do you think there’ll be room in your house for you and all the trophies?” Abby asked wide-eyed.

  Bonnie smiled patiently at Abby. “Jealousy is such an ugly emotion.”

  “Hey, come on, everybody,” Eileen pleaded. “It’s our last night.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” muttered Marty.

  First came the dubious distinction prizes. A broom was presented collectively to Larkspur for scoring the lowest marks in cleanup all summer; then a chubby girl from Phlox received the “Leadbelly” award—a bottle of Pepto-Bismol—for eating the largest sandwich at Dagwood Night. Finally Katy awarded a tongue depressor to “the infirmary’s best customer—Roberta Harrison.”

  “Speech! Speech!” Abby shouted.

  “Thank you,” Roberta stood up and nodded to the crowd once the applause died down. “This is a great honor and I want you all to know I worked very hard for it.... Well, I guess that’s all I have to say, ’cause if I talk any longer, I’ll probably get laryngitis and wind up in the infirmary.”

  “At least one of us isn’t going home empty-handed,” Abby whispered, clapping her on the back.

  Then Aunt Tillie rose for silence once again and began her speech. Abby gazed quite fondly at the tiny camp director who was saying how sorry she was to see the summer end. Aunt Tillie really wasn’t a bad egg, Abby decided. Sure she was scary and definitely not the laugh riot of the century. But she was fair and she really seemed to mean all the corny stuff she said about camp.

  In her clipped manner, Aunt Tillie went on about how she felt sure that for each girl, the summer had been an important one. “Now I don’t like long speeches, but I do want to say that what means the most in the end is not how many baskets you made in arts and crafts or how many bull’s-eyes you made in archery, but whether or not you have made good friends.” Abby beamed at Roberta who crossed her eyes and made gagging noises. “There are some girls, however, who have shown special ability or achievement and for that they deserve recognition. So now we’ll start with the presentation of awards for the different sports and activities.”

  “Bonnie’s pa
rents are going have to move to a bigger house to fit all her trophies,” Abby whispered a while later. “She’s gotten four already—archery, softball, volleyball and tennis,” Abby counted off on her fingers. “What I don’t get is how Lisa won drama. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I thought—”

  “Will you shut up!” Bonnie hissed. “They’re doing all the waterfront stuff now.”

  “That makes numero five,” Abby said as Bonnie popped up to receive the boating award.

  Then Laurel stood up. “For the ten year olds,” she announced, “the swimming award goes to—Abby Kimmel!”

  Abby clutched Roberta. “That’s me! That’s me!”

  Roberta jabbed her affectionately. “Well, don’t just sit here like a moron.”

  Abby stumbled towards Laurel who looked unfamiliar with her blond hair curled and no sun cream on the nose. “The swimming award! Me? I don’t understand. I mean, it’s not like I passed or anything.”

  “Abby, will you kindly stop yapping and take this trophy? Look, you improved and that counts too. Okay?” Laurel smiled, handing over a small brass swimmer perched on a wood base. “And from here on in, you should learn that you don’t put up a fight when someone offers you a prize.”

  “Sorry. You know me—Miss Mouth,” Abby smiled sheepishly. “And thanks.”

  “She didn’t deserve it,” Bonnie was saying when Abby returned to the table. “She only got it because they felt sorry for her.”

  “You can say that again,” Phyllis chimed in.

  “A bet’s a bet,” Roberta insisted. “Fork it over.”

  “Oh, all right.” Bonnie slapped something into Roberta’s outstretched hand.

  “What’s that all about?” asked Abby.

  “Bonnie thought she was a cinch to win swimming too. But I knew you’d get it.” Roberta looked immensely satisfied. “I was positive all along, so I bet her her last three candy bars.”

  “Congrats, Abby.” Eileen squeezed her hand. “I’m so happy you got it.”

  “Hey, save the schmaltz for later, okay?” Roberta said. “They’re going to announce prize campers and I got stuff riding on this too.”

  Lisa arranged her face into a modest smile as Aunt Tillie explained how this award was meant to honor the girl who “in countless small and often unnoticed ways has shown the most sincere spirit of kindness and helpfulness.”

  “And so it is with great pleasure that I present—” Lisa seemed to tense slightly in her seat—“the award for the ten year olds to Eileen Wachsman.”

  Eileen! Abby was stunned.

  Several girls at other tables were twisting around to get a look at her.

  “I don’t think anyone even knows who she is,” Roberta said under her breath.

  “If it was up to Eileen, she’d keep it that way,” Abby whispered back, thinking it was hard to tell who looked more stunned, Eileen or Lisa. “Come on, Eileen. You’ve got to go up and get the award.”

  “I hate stuff like this,” Eileen wailed softly as Abby propelled her towards the head table.

  Then Roberta began to reach across to Lisa who was studiously attacking another piece of pie.

  “For God’s sake,” Abby hissed. “Can’t you leave her alone?”

  “She owes me two packs of gum,” Roberta answered just as Eileen returned lugging an elaborate silver loving cup.

  “Forget the gum, you’ll live without it.”

  Roberta looked surprised at the tone of Abby’s voice.

  Lisa got up and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

  “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for her?” Roberta’s round eyes were wide.

  “Well, maybe I do ... sort of.”

  Roberta snorted.

  “I know she didn’t deserve it. But she really wanted it. That should count for something—especially when Eileen doesn’t want it at all.” Abby sighed, feeling puzzled. Fair is fair, she tried telling herself, but she couldn’t help feeling that fair could be unfair too.

  “You’re nuts,” said Roberta, but when Lisa returned, she left her alone.

  The awards were over now and, at Aunt Tillie’s signal, everybody left the Mess Hall and began wending their way down to the lake for the last campfire. It was a beautiful night. The jet-black sky glittered with an explosion of stars and, walking among the girls in her bunk, Abby felt a curious sadness steal over her. The summer really was over. She felt it now. No more complaining about softball games she didn’t want to go to, or arguing about whose turn it was to sweep the bunk, or getting yelled at by Marty or into fights with Bonnie and Phyllis. And, of course, no more Roberta. That was hardest of all to imagine. Yet, two months ago, thought Abby, being separated from Merle had seemed like the end of the world—and it hadn’t been. Why was it, Abby wondered, that there was something sad realizing that too?

  Abby took her place beside Roberta and Eileen in the circle around the fire by the lake. Each girl crossed her hands in front of her and took the hand of the girl standing next to her. Slowly from side to side swayed the friendship ring. The flames from the fire danced and flickered on their faces as they sang the song that had opened every campfire since the beginning of the summer. Never before had the song seemed to Abby so sweet or so sad.

  Each campfire lights anew

  The flame of friendship true

  The joy we’ve had in knowing you

  Will last the whole year through.

  Everyone turned to her neighbor and for the last time exchanged the Pinecrest shake; then starting with the youngest girls in Sweetpea, each camper stood before Aunt Tillie, in the middle of the circle, and was handed a white candle imbedded in a small wooden boat. One by one the candles were lit and floated out onto the lake.

  “You have to make a wish before you put your can-die in the water,” explained Roberta. “Of course last year I wished I wouldn’t have to come back here and you see where that got me. So much for wishes.”

  Abby smiled although she couldn’t help wishing Roberta would act a little more choked up about their farewell. She cupped the flame of her candle with one hand and stooped down to the water. What could she wish for, Abby wondered. That Merle would be the same old Merle when she got home? That Roberta’s parents would decide to move to New York? Then suddenly Bonnie jostled her and sent her boat bobbing into the water. “Bon-nie,” Abby snapped. “I wasn’t ready to do mine yet.”

  “Tough toenails.”

  Abby watched her boat tilt and almost overturn but then it righted itself and began floating out toward the middle of the lake. So much for wishes, Abby silently repeated Roberta’s words. Well, that’s right, she thought. Even when they do come true, it’s never exactly the way you expected anyway.

  Abby stood back from the water. The tiny armada of candle boats was drifting and bobbing farther out in the lake and soon she was not sure which one was hers. The wind steered the flickering fleet onward past the dolphin raft and off toward a sandy hook of land that jutted out from the shoreline.

  “I’m really going to miss you,” Abby whispered to Roberta. She waited for a wisecrack but all Roberta said was “Ditto.” Then they stood watching until the last of the candles curved around the shoreline and couldn’t be seen anymore.