One S'more Summer

by Beth Merlin

  “Really pretty. Now go snag your Aussie.” Jordana had confessed to me about her crush on Jake, the Australian head of the waterfront staff.

  “His accent just does it for me. I close my eyes and imagine I’m making out with one of the Hemsworth brothers,” she said, spritzing perfume in the air to make a cloud and walking through.

  “I know what you mean. Even when Perry’s being insulting, he sounds charming. It’s not fair,” I said.

  “Maybe you just misread things that morning in his cabin? I mean, you both had been drinking. Maybe his rejection was something else?” she suggested. “Maybe he didn’t want to take advantage of you or the situation?”

  “No, he was pretty clear about not wanting me.” At least, I thought he’d been pretty clear. Maybe as a means of self-preservation I was forcing myself to find red flags that just weren’t there? “Why is everyone so invested in this anyway? All we’ve done is argue since the day we met.”

  “’Cause passion is passion, good or bad, and you have to admit there’s something there.”

  “Fine, I admit there maybe could have been something there, but I’m not looking for anything complicated and he’s complicated.”

  “One of these days, are you going to extinguish it?” she asked.

  “Extinguish what?”

  “This torch you’re carrying for someone who obviously hurt you badly.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s a hundred and five. How’d you get so wise?”

  “I’m the oldest of three sisters. Comes with the job,” she answered.

  “I have to go out for roll call. Can you make sure none of them walk out of here with anything exposed that shouldn’t be exposed? Oh, and can you give Tara this?” I said, tossing my Dior lipgloss at her.

  “Are you going to change out of that outfit?”

  “I’ll put something else on that’s not khaki, I promise.”

  “Or Army green. It’s really not your color,” she shouted at me as I walked out the bunk door.

  I went into the horseshoe and called for roll call, but nobody came. After I shouted a couple more times, a few girls trickled out. After the fifth time, the rest of them finally showed up dressed to the nines. “You all look great. I don’t need to remind you that we’re currently beating Birch for The Gordy, so keep that in mind tonight, but have fun. I need to see Candice, Erica, Dana, and Jen from Bunk Eleven. Also, Brooke and Michelle, can you hang behind?”

  There was a collective groan from the four of them as the other girls left to go to the social. I turned to Michelle and Brooke. “I only need one of you to hang behind for this. Brooke, why don’t you head over to the social? Michelle, can you hang back with me and the campers?”

  Michelle rolled her eyes and muttered the word “unbelievable” under her breath.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “No. Well, actually, yes. I just think it’s really petty for you to make me stay behind to keep me from hanging out with Perry,” she said.

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Four girls from your cabin were caught smoking pot behind The Canteen. I need one of you here to help me keep an eye on them until we let them join the social. You were standing closest to me, so, congratulations, you won,” I said, heading toward the bunk.

  “Right,” she muttered from behind me.

  I spun around on my heels. “If you have something to say, Michelle, just say it.”

  “It’s just a little desperate, that’s all.”

  “Desperate?”

  “To throw yourself at Perry the way you do.”

  “Perry’s all yours. He’s all yours, after you do your job and watch these girls.”

  After that, Michelle didn’t say a word to me. For exactly an hour and a half, we sat in Bunk Eleven in silence. At one point Candice rose to fix her makeup at the mirror, and Michelle shot her a look that made her sit right back down. When the time was up, I released them to go to the social. I started to walk back to the bunk to change but decided there was no point. I wasn’t here to impress anyone, so what difference did it make what I was wearing?

  When I got to the tennis courts, a slow song was playing, and most of the campers were dancing. I immediately spotted Perry talking to Michelle under a huge floodlight. Jordana was getting herself some punch at the refreshments table. I joined her.

  “Why are you still wearing that?” she asked.

  “I added a jean jacket,” I said defensively.

  “Didn’t you tell me you were a fashion designer?”

  “Give me a break. You don’t know the attitude I just got from Michelle for making her stay behind with me. She thought I was intentionally trying to keep her from hanging out with Perry.”

  Perry came up to the table to get a drink.

  “Two, please,” he said to Jordana.

  “It’s self-serve,” she replied.

  He turned to me. “Gigi, how nice of you to dress up for the occasion.”

  I scanned the tennis courts. A bunch of the Cedar girls huddled together in one corner, talking and pointing to different couplings. All along the perimeter of the court were the counselors, who were half keeping an eye on the kids and half eyeing each other. The DJ, probably a local kid from Milbank, had his headphones pressed to his ear and was bouncing along to some hip-hop song nobody on the court seemed to know. You had to give him credit—even though most of the campers were acting like they were way too cool to even be there, the DJ didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “Who’s having a good time?” Gordy shouted into the DJ’s microphone. “I said, who’s having a good time tonight?” A few campers yelled back. “Right now, Cedar is just slightly ahead of Birch for The Gordy. Let’s bring Perry and Gigi out to the middle of the tennis courts for a dance-off worth ten points.”

  I looked at Jordana. “He can’t be serious.”

  “Apparently, he’s not only serious but armed with the spotlight, which he is shining at you right now,” she said.

  “Oh, God, really?” Looking up, I was almost blinded by the white light.

  She pushed me forward. “You better get out there. Nobody keeps Baby in the corner,” she said, laughing.

  Then, I heard it—the opening of the same song that Gordy had played at every social back when I was a camper at Chinooka. The classic, ‘Summer Nights’ from Grease. “Oh, I have this one in the bag,” I said to her over my shoulder.

  I knew every word to that song by heart. Apparently, so did Perry because before I could even get to the dance floor, he was already belting the first line of the song into the mic.

  I jumped in, took the mic from his hand, and sang the Sandy verse. Not to be one-upped, Perry slid across the floor on his knees giving the audience his very best Danny Zuko. After a few more exchanges, a group of Cedar girls ran over to join me in the center of the tennis courts. Perry motioned some of the Birch boys to join him, and after some pleading, a few of them did.

  The DJ turned up the volume and instantly the Cedar girls and Birch boys were transformed into Pink Ladies and T-Birds battling it out in the center of the court. When the song ended, Gordy stepped up to the microphone and announced that Cedar had won the dance off and the ten points. As the girls congratulated each other, I spotted Madison in the corner of the tennis courts, surrounded by a few of the other girls from Bunk Fourteen.

  “Hey, Tara, what’s that all about?” I asked, pointing to them.

  “Alex Shane’s been ignoring her. I think he’s into Candice now,” she replied nonchalantly.

  It definitely looked like Alex was into Candice. The two of them were in the opposite corner of the tennis court, slow dancing way too closely. I was about to go over and pry them apart when I saw Perry was already on his way to take care of it.

  Afterward, I went to comfort Madison. “Hey, girls, give us a second, okay?” I said, shooing away the small clique from Bunk Fourteen that had her surrounded. “Maddy, are you all r
ight?”

  Unable to speak from crying so hard, she simply shook her head no.

  “Look, he’s a thirteen-year-old guy, and thirteen-year-old guys aren’t mature enough to know what they want. Truth be told, experience has shown me that neither do almost thirty-year-old men.”

  She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down.

  “It’s not like that,” she said through controlled sobs. “Tonight, before the dance, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him I wasn’t ready for that and that I didn’t want to be exclusive. He got really mad and told me it was all or nothing. Now he’s dancing with Candice, who looks like a freakin’ model,” she said, pointing in their direction. “I’m an idiot, right? Every single girl wants to be with him. Why didn’t I just say yes?”

  “Why didn’t you just say yes?” I asked.

  “At home, someone like Alex would never be interested in me. You wouldn’t understand.”

  I smoothed her hair. “What do you want to do?”

  “Pull Candice off of him and tell him I made a mistake,” she said.

  “Well, then get out there. You can take her.”

  She started laughing.

  “What are you waiting for? Go bust in on them. He looks like he needs saving,” I said.

  “She does look a little bit like she wants to swallow him whole,” she commented. “Thanks, Gigi,” she said, pulling me into an embrace.

  “Anytime. It’s what I’m here for.”

  From across the tennis court, I watched Madison spill her heart out to Alex. I knew that no matter the outcome, she would be better for having done it.

  After the dance, I left Brooke and Michelle to sit OD and went to The Canteen. My cell phone barely got any reception at Chinooka, and I wanted to use the one payphone on the grounds to call Jamie and beg him to send me my sewing machine. When I got to The Canteen, I was relieved to see there wasn’t a line and stepped into the booth to call Jamie collect. He answered on the third ring.

  “Really, Gigi, you’re calling me collect? I didn’t even know that was still possible,” he grumbled.

  “Nice to talk to you too. My cell gets almost no service up here, and I didn’t want to bring a thousand quarters with me to use the payphone.”

  “It’s okay. I’m glad to hear from you. Your cell phone’s been going straight to voicemail. How are you? Ready to pack up and come home from the wilderness yet?”

  Even though he’d been born and raised in Griffin, Georgia, the epitome of small-town USA, Jamie was now of the mindset that anyplace outside Manhattan might as well not even exist. Except for the Hamptons, South Beach, and LA—he made exceptions for those locales.

  “Not quite yet. It’s been an adjustment, I’ll admit, but all in all, it’s been good for me to be here. I have a lot of time to think and reflect.”

  “Gigi, you went to work at a sleepaway camp. You didn’t run away to a Buddhist monastery,” he said.

  “I just mean it’s been good to be away from everything and everyone.”

  “Everyone, or one particular person? Out of sight out of mind, I hope?”

  “I wish it was that easy, but it’s getting easier.” I swallowed and asked him the one question I did and did not want to know the answer to. “Have you heard from Alicia at all?”

  He hesitated for a moment and then said, “She called me last week and asked me to meet her to look at wedding dresses. I think she just wanted my professional opinion or something.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Did she pick one?”

  “A gorgeous satin, trumpet-style Carolina Herrera gown. She had to get the sample because of the time frame, but fortunately, with her figure, she fit into almost everything.”

  “It sounds really pretty,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

  “Very. Simple, elegant, sophisticated, and timeless.”

  “Sounds like how people describe Ali.” I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my chest. The ache of missing my best friend was almost unbearable. “I’m really glad you were there to help her.” Tears rolled down my cheeks.

  “Camp’s how long? Eight weeks? Think you’ll be able to pull yourself together by then?” he asked sympathetically.

  “I’m working on it,” I said, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. “I guess this is a good segue into the favor I need to ask you.”

  I was about to ask Jamie about the sewing machine when someone pounded on the door of the phone booth.

  “One second, I’m still using the phone,” I shouted behind me. Jamie asked what all the background noise was.

  “Just some jerk wanting to use the phone.” The person pounded again, even harder.

  “Look, buddy, I need a couple more minutes,” I shouted again.

  More pounding. “This isn’t prison, asshole. There isn’t a five-minute rule. I can use the phone as long as I damn well please,” I screamed.

  I spun around in the booth, opened the door, and found myself eye to eye with Perry Gillman. “Good evening, guv’nor,” I said, mocking his British accent. “How can I help you?”

  “Me and all these other people,” he said, pointing to the long line that had formed behind him, “would like to use the telly. That is, of course, if you don’t mind?”

  “Well, I do mind, so you and everyone else will just have to wait.” I slammed the accordion door closed. “Sorry about that,” I said, getting back to Jamie. “There’s this counselor who seems to think he’s more entitled to use the phone than I am. He’ll just have to wait.”

  “Gigi, while I admire the newfound I-am-woman-hear-me-roar thing you have going, this call is costing me like ten dollars a second. What’s the favor you want to ask me?”

  “Sorry, right—well, I agreed to make all of the costumes for the camp play. I really need my sewing machine from home. Can you send it to me with some of the bolts of fabric from my apartment?”

  “You want me to mail all of that to you?” he asked.

  “I really need it sooner than later, so if you could do it in the next couple of days, that would be amazing,” I pleaded.

  “Do you have any idea how heavy that machine is and how expensive it’s going to be to ship, let alone overnight it to you?”

  “Orrrr you can borrow Thom’s car and drive it up here? Please, Jamie, I’ll really owe you.”

  Thom was Jamie’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. They seemed to be more “on-again” whenever Jamie needed a car to use.

  “Okay, fine. I should be able to drive it up next weekend,” he said, sounding completely defeated. “Hey, Gigi, what’s his name?”

  “Whose name?”

  “The guy giving you a hard time?”

  “Perry. Why?”

  “Introduce me when I’m up there. Night, sweetie. See you next Saturday,” he said before hanging up the phone.

  I put down the receiver and reopened the door to see the long line of counselors and CITs that had formed to use the phone. Almost all of them shot me dirty looks as I emerged from the booth. Perry didn’t even make eye contact when he brushed past me to use the phone. He slammed the door closed before I could even form the words to apologize. Tara was waiting near the middle of the line.

  “Is it always like this?” I asked her.

  “God, Gigi, there is a seven-minute phone rule that everyone follows,” she said, emphasizing the word everyone.

  “Seven minutes?”

  “Yes, more than five less than ten. Just enough time to say hello and ask for what you want sent from home before hanging up.”

  “It’s not like there’s a sign with the rule,” I argued.

  She pointed to the sign posted above the phone booth that I had completely missed on my way in.

  “This is the first time I’ve used the phone since I’ve been at camp, so I must have banked some minutes, right?”

  She crossed her arms. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. I’m gonna get myself a Chipwich. Do you want anything?”<
br />
  She looked at me like I’d just offered her heroin. “Do you know how many grams of fat a Chipwich has in it?”

  I walked away before she could enlighten me. I went outside to The Canteen’s ordering window and knocked. I was shocked when Rita Henley came to answer. Rita and Herb Henley had The Canteen when I was a camper. Back then, they were semi-retired, running a small ski shop in Killington, Vermont during the winter and working at Chinooka in the summer. I ordered the Chipwich from her and took a twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket to pay for it.

  “Sorry, sweetie, we don’t take cash,” Rita informed me.

  “You don’t accept cash?” I questioned.

  “I’ll go ahead and debit your canteen account,” she responded.

  “I don’t have a canteen account. Unless you’re automatically set up for one when you fill out all the payroll forms like direct deposit, in which case, maybe I do have one? Can you check my name, Georgica Goldstein?”

  “It doesn’t work like that. You have to ask to set up a canteen account with Herb.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” I said. “I’ll set one up first thing in the morning. Tonight, can you maybe just make this one-time exception and take the money? Or just front me the Chipwich now and tomorrow I’ll ensure the three dollars are taken right off of the account?”

  She shook her head and told me that her hands were tied. Rules were rules.

  “Hey, Rita, put the lady’s ice cream on my tab,” an all-too-familiar voice said from behind me. “Actually, make it two.”

  “What, are you following me or something?” I asked, turning to Perry. “Rita, it’s okay, don’t worry about my ice cream. Just get him whatever he wants.”

  “Rita, I’ll take the two,” Perry said, ignoring me. She passed the Chipwiches to him through the window.

  “I don’t have anything smaller than a twenty. Do you have any change?” I asked, offering the money to him.

  “Don’t worry about it. I feel bad about harassing you while you were on the phone. Sit here and eat your ice cream with me.”

  “I was going to take it back over to Cedar.”

  “Forget to assign someone to sit OD?”