One S'more Summer

by Beth Merlin

  I pointed to Madison and Alex, who were kissing in a dark corner of the field. “Until you realize they’re actually thirteen and you’re the grown-up.”

  He took hold of both my hands and said, “So tell me, grown-up, how’d we get to this place?

  I pulled my hands back and turned away from him. “All I wanted was to run away from my life and the mistakes that’d been piling up. And where did I run to? Chinooka, where a million memories came flooding back to me every day. You and Alicia. Me and Alicia. You can tell me that you’re unsure about this marriage and unsure about Alicia and that you maybe love me too, but I’m the one person you can’t lie to. I’ve been part of your relationship with Alicia for as long as you’ve had one. I know better than anyone that it’s always been, and will always be, her.”

  He pulled me back around so we were face-to-face. “That night in June outside the restaurant, you asked me if you were just a distraction,” he said.

  I swallowed hard. “I remember.”

  “You’ve been my truest friend, and I put you in an impossible situation. I was selfish. I headed straight for your arms—I knew you’d be there for me the way you’ve always been there for me. But you weren’t a distraction, Gigi, and what I felt for you then was real. I need you to know that.”

  “I do know that. At least I know it now. It means everything to hear you say it.” I took Joshua’s hands into my own. “And you didn’t put me anywhere. I wanted to be there. It’s all I’d ever wanted.” I reached into my pocket. “Here,” I said, handing him back the key necklace he’d given me last summer. I’d retrieved it from my Band-Aid box earlier in the day.

  He closed his fist tightly around it. There was loud cheering off in the distance, and we both turned to see where it was coming from.

  “It must be the relay races going on at the athletic field,” I said.

  Joshua tucked the necklace into his shirt pocket, but when he opened his fist, I could see the key had left a small imprint.

  He stood up. “I should let you get back to them,” he said, motioning to the field.

  I threw my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, “She may be having cold feet but be patient, she’ll come around. I know it.”

  “Thank you, Gigi,” he whispered back.

  “Be good to her, Joshua.”

  He nodded without saying a word and walked out of the gazebo, heading back to Alicia. Back where he belonged.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Color War raged on for two more days. By the time the final night arrived, the kids were completely battle-worn. I stopped trying to keep track of who was in the lead, instead of putting all of my energy into the Creative Trifecta. The war’s final outcome could be completely changed depending on which team won the song, plaque, and cheer. Poor Davis had been up the last two nights, writing and rewriting his song, knowing that Perry had long completed his.

  I gathered the team at the lakeside amphitheater so we could rehearse. Davis passed around sheets with the lyrics and then went to the front of the stage. He sat down at his electric keyboard and started playing the intro to ‘Holding out for a Hero,’ the eighties song by Bonnie Tyler of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ fame. It was a good song and actually made a great Color War song, but, unfortunately, most of the campers were too young to know it. When we got to the chorus, a few more campers and some of the counselors chimed in, but not many. Not being familiar with the melody, the kids were butchering it. Davis looked horrified. I nudged Madison and asked her if she remembered anything about Perry’s winning song from last year.

  “It was awesome. The theme was the Future versus the Past, and he wrote a mash-up of all these techno songs with classical music, almost like they were battling each other.”

  “And if you were to compare it to this song?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “No contest.”

  Davis was doing his best to teach the kids the words. Our eyes met and he gave me a weak smile. Obviously, we weren’t winning the song, but we still had a fighting chance with the plaque and cheer, not to mention the final event of the Color War—the trivia contest.

  The event pitted the two team generals in a rapid-fire trivia face-off, fielding a series of questions covering a variety of topics, like pop culture, literature, and Chinooka history. As the rounds went on, the questions grew harder and the point values increased. Past generals had become camp legends based on how well they did during the event. Jordana and the rest of Bunk Fourteen had been quizzing me on different subjects over the last few days. Tara took the lead on pop culture, catching me up to speed on reality TV and the latest celebrity gossip, courtesy of the magazines she had her parents send up weekly. The rest of the campers filled in my knowledge gap on some of the more recent changes at Chinooka. I hadn’t studied so hard for anything since my LSATs, but by the time the final night came, I felt ready to face General Gillman.

  All the evening Color War events took place on the athletic field, except for last night’s contests, which were held on the tennis courts. Gordy had hired back the DJ from the dance to help him emcee. When both teams got onto the court, we separated onto our respective sides and waited for Gordy to announce the order of events.

  The team cheer was first. Gordy called up the cheer captains and flipped a coin to see which team would go first. He nodded at the Blue Team to take the stage. The cheer captain proceeded to lead the Villains through an inspiring chant. Everyone was on their feet, but there was nothing particularly memorable about it. When they were finished, Gordy nodded to our team, and Jordana stepped forward to lead the Heroes through our cheer.

  Jordana had the idea to have the campers leading the cheer dressed up like different movie and storybook heroes. Harry Potter, Robin Hood, and Batman were over on the Villains’ side, heckling them, while Ironman, Indiana Jones, and Hercules were rousing the rest of the Heroes and judges. When the Gold Team finished, Gordy’s smile told me everything I needed to know. The Heroes had won the cheer round.

  Next, each team brought forward their plaques for presentation to the judges. The Blue Team’s had different villains from comics, movies, and TV depicted in black-and-white mug shots. Their names and prison identification numbers were printed below each portrait. The word Villains was spray-painted across the plaque in bright blue. I had to admit that it was pretty clever.

  Sally and some of the campers who’d helped with our plaque then brought ours to the judges’ table. It was well executed, but not nearly as creative as the Blue Team’s. It didn’t take long for the judges to render their decision, awarding all the plaque points to the Blue Team.

  Finally, came the song. We presented ours first. Even after several rehearsals, the kids still didn’t know the melody or words. Most of them rushed through the lyrics, getting to the chorus way too fast. I looked over at Perry, who was leaning forward, trying to recognize the underlying tune. Davis stood behind the electronic keyboard trying to conduct. The look of horror on his face was unmistakable. He could not be put out of his misery fast enough. When it was over, Gordy was on his feet clapping, relieved it was finally over.

  When it was the Blue Team’s turn, Perry led the campers to the center of the tennis court and instructed them to crouch down to the ground. When the lights on the court dimmed and Perry nodded to the DJ to turn on the fog machine, I knew we were in trouble.

  Then I heard it. The unmistakable first notes of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller,’ blasting over the speaker system. Suddenly, the squatting campers started to rise to the beat of the music. The music alternated back and forth between ‘Thriller,’ ‘Bad,’ and then ‘Smooth Criminal.’ He’d mashed together all three songs perfectly, and his entire team was singing and dancing seamlessly, with Perry leading the way. When it was over, there was no question they hadn’t just won—they’d crushed us. I stood up and gave Perry his due. It was an impressive show, and he deserved the win.

  When the applause died down, Gordy called Perry and me to the center of
the tennis courts for the final showdown. We took our places behind the two podiums set up next to each other. Gordy took his place at a podium facing ours. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, carefully unfolded it, put on his glasses, and recited the rules.

  “Round One will consist of ten questions, each worth ten points. The team generals may confer with any member of their team for the answers. Round Two will consist of three questions, each worth twenty-five points. Incorrect answers will result in a ten-point deduction. During Round Two, the team generals may only confer with the three designated trivia captains for the answers. Can the captains please take their place behind their team podium?”

  Tara, Jordana, and a camper named Hunter from the Pine Group ran up and joined me. Tara was my designated pop culture expert. Jordana had literature, history, and geography. Hunter was my authority for any sports-related questions. On Perry’s side, I saw Alex Shane and two campers I didn’t know.

  Gordy continued, “The final round will consist of just one question worth fifty points. Incorrect answers will result in a twenty-five-point deduction. Team generals will not be allowed to confer with anyone during the final round. Do the team generals have any questions?”

  Perry and I both shook our heads no. Gordy nodded to the DJ. The lights dimmed so that there was only a spotlight on the center of the court where we stood, adding to the already tense atmosphere. Once he had absolute silence, Gordy asked the first question. “If all the state capital cities in the US were listed in alphabetical order, what would be the first two?”

  The Gold Team was crowded together when I broke into their huddle. The campers were frantically shouting out the names of different state capitals, and I was repeating them back, trying to work out which one came first in the alphabet. “Let’s see. There’s Boise and Baton Rouge. Baton Rouge comes before Boise. What other capitals besides Albany start with an A?”

  Michelle raised her voice above the other campers, who were yelling out names. “There’s Atlanta, Augusta, Annapolis, and Austin.”

  I quickly ran through the letters of the alphabet. “So, the first two would be Albany and Annapolis, right?”

  “Right!” she said.

  It was the first time all summer that she’d offered me any help, but I was grateful for it. I ran back to the podium, hit my buzzer, and shouted out, “Albany and Annapolis.”

  “Correct, ten points awarded to the Heroes,” Gordy yelled into his microphone. The Gold Team erupted in cheers. I mouthed “thank you” to Michelle, who smiled back.

  Gordy rattled off a few more questions and then announced we were moving on to Round Two. He switched out his index cards for a new set and read off the first question.

  “What American playwright wrote screenplays for the films Ronin, Wag the Dog, The Spanish Prisoner, and Glengarry Glenn Ross?”

  I turned around to my trivia captains, expecting Jordana to give me the answer, but instead, Tara jumped in and said, “David Mamet.”

  “Are you sure?” Jordana asked.

  Tara put her hands on her hips. “Positive.”

  I hit the buzzer. “David Mamet.”

  “Correct!” Gordy said, jumping up and down.

  I turned around to Jordana, who looked completely mystified by Tara’s aptitude. Tara whispered that Glenngary Glenn Ross was her boyfriend, Brian’s, favorite movie.

  “Final question. Which two teams were involved in the thrown 1919 World Series?”

  I turned around to my experts, and Hunter quickly said, “The Chicago White Sox and the Pittsburgh Pirates.”

  I hit the buzzer and repeated his answer.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s incorrect. Ten points deducted from the Heroes. Do the Villains have an answer?” Gordy asked.

  Perry conferred with his captains and then answered, “The Chicago White Sox and the Cincinnati Reds.”

  “That’s correct. Twenty-five points are awarded to the Villains. Now on to the final round. Remember, the generals will have to answer this one on their own without help from their teams or the trivia captains. Captains, please return to your seats.”

  While Tara, Jordana, and Hunter sat down, Gordy took a sealed envelope out of his pocket. He opened it and unfolded the paper inside, laying it flat on the podium. Reading carefully, he said, “This sewing machine has been a fixture in the arts and crafts cabin ever since I took over as director. What is the nickname of this sewing machine?”

  I looked over at Perry and hit the buzzer with lightning speed. “Big Bertha?”

  “Correct,” Gordy cried.

  The Gold Team came rushing up to the podium as Perry tipped his imaginary hat to me. When the excitement died down, Gordy sent everyone back to their seats so he could announce the final scores and the winner of Chinooka’s one-hundredth Color War games and the coveted Gordy.

  The tennis court was dead silent as Gordy conferred with the other judges on the scores. They stood in a semicircle, comparing notes from their clipboards. After what seemed like an eternity, Gordy walked over the podium. He tapped the microphone a few times to make sure it was on, and then said, “I’ve been the director of Camp Chinooka for thirty-five years and head judge of thirty-five Color Wars. Never before have I seen such a close matchup between teams. However, it is with great pleasure that I announce that the winner of the Camp Chinooka Centennial Color War—the Heroes!”

  The Gold Team went absolutely crazy at the news, cheering, hugging, and high-fiving each other. A few of the younger campers were even crying, simply overwhelmed with excitement. Over on the Villains’ side, one of the camper captains was leading their team in a cheer to boost their spirits. When they finished, Gordy gave them the nod that it was okay to go join the Gold Team. The formally divided Chinooka was once again a united camp. Out of the crowd of campers, I spotted Perry walking toward me, waving a small white flag.

  “General Goldstein, I applaud your victory,” he said, clapping as he approached.

  “Thank you, General Gillman. Does this white flag mean you’re surrendering?”

  “Completely,” he said, taking me in his arms for a long and passionate kiss.

  “I missed you, too,” I whispered back to him when we finally broke apart.

  Gordy returned to the microphone and asked everyone to take their seats again. It took a few more minutes for the noise to die down. At last, Gordy spoke. “As many of you know, tradition dictates that, on the final night of Color War, I also announce the winner of The Gordy. This year was especially close, with two groups taking the lead early in the summer. I’ve carefully reviewed the point totals, including the bonus points awarded from the Rope Burn Battle and the winning Color War team general.”

  I looked around the tennis courts and saw pockets of Cedar girls with their eyes closed, holding hands, anxiously waiting for the winner to be announced. I closed my eyes and grasped Perry’s arm.

  Gordy continued, “The winners of this summer’s Gordy Award are the Cedar girls and the Birch boys. For the first time ever in Chinooka’s history, it’s a tie.”

  Both groups jumped to their feet. Perry pulled me in for a quick kiss before running off to celebrate with his staff. The Cedar counselors hurried over to congratulate me. Not only had I survived the whole summer as head counselor for the Cedar girls, a feat accomplished by only a small handful of my predecessors, but I’d them to a Gordy win.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Color War was always followed by Lazy Day. After a week of wall-to-wall events and activities, on Lazy Day, the campers were able to sleep in, hang by the pool or lake, and just relax. With the winner of The Gordy already announced, there were no points or titles at stake. The kids could do as much or as little as they wanted with no consequences.

  Gordy left three different itineraries in my mailbox: one for Washington DC, one for Boston, and one for New York City. Perry and I were going to present each one to the campers and let them vote on the trip they wanted. When we gathered everyone later that day, some of t
he CITs were already making pitches for the city they wanted to visit. I could hear Tara trying to talk some of the girls in Bunk Fourteen into voting for New York.

  Perry took the stage and congratulated the campers on their win while the trip itineraries were passed around. As he started to read the New York itinerary, I noticed the dates printed on the top of the page. The trip fell smack over Alicia and Joshua’s wedding weekend. If the campers voted for New York, we would be staying just blocks from their reception at The St. Regis Hotel. Jordana noticed me clutching the piece of paper in my hand to the point of white knuckles and asked me if I was all right. I motioned for Tara to come sit next to me on one of the benches.

  “What’d I do?” she asked as she sat down.

  “I’m just curious why you’re pushing so hard to go to New York City?”

  “New York’s awesome,” she said.

  “It’s definitely awesome, but DC and Boston are pretty great, too.”

  “They’re okay,” Tara said, shrugging her shoulders.

  She wasn’t going to be any help in trying to convince the other campers to choose one of the other cities, so I took matters into my own hands and joined Perry on the stage. When he finished the New York spiel, I grabbed the other two papers from his hand and made the very best cases I could for DC and Boston. Perry looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “What’s with the hard sell? You getting kickbacks from the DC and Boston Chambers of Commerce I don’t know about?” he whispered when I took my seat.

  “I can’t go to New York.”

  He instructed the counselors to pass out the ballots and pulled me to the side of the stage. “What’s going on, Gigi?”

  “Joshua and Alicia are getting married that weekend.”

  His eyes opened wide with surprise. “I thought she was having cold feet. Isn’t that what he came here to tell you?”

  “When I spoke to Jamie last night, he said as far as he’s heard, the wedding’s still on,” I said.