I pick out a candle. Actually it’s a beautiful bowl with a candle in it, one that can be refilled.
Ted’s by the cash register, talking to the two guys there.
I continue to look around, at the sign on one of the shelves that says, SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED BY THE LORD and at the candle that’s taller than I am. Actually it’s one that they keep adding to.
As I pay for my purchase, Ted introduces me to the two guys, Dennis and Martin.
Everyone’s very friendly.
When we get outside, I hand the bowl with the candle in it to Ted. “I want you to have this. It’ll always glow, not melt down and be gone.”
He doesn’t seem at all embarrassed by the gift.
“It’s symbolic, like us, huh?”
“Writers are known to deal in symbolism,” I say.
We take the packages back to the car and then continue walking around town.
Then Ted and I drive all around. I sit in the car, daydreaming about what it would be like to spend the rest of my life here, the rest of our lives. I even have the names of our two future kids picked out. Heather and Dylan. Dylan because it’s the name of one of my favorite poets, Dylan Thomas, and also the name of Bob Dylan, the singer who once was part of Woodstock. Heather because it just seems right for this place.
We stop by a stream, get out of the car, and go down the banks and sit there.
For a long time we talk. It feels so comfortable. So right to be there with Ted. So this is what it’s all about. Being in love. I don’t want it to ever end.
We get back in the car, head back to town, and then sit for a while in the car holding hands and talking.
Dinner. Then a movie. It’s fun, but I want to be alone with Ted, without other people around.
By the time we get out of the movie, it’s very dark. There aren’t any streetlights.
“I guess we’ve got to go back,” I say.
Ted nods. “Yeah, but I don’t want to. Do you?”
I shake my head.
Another kiss. I think I’ve been kissed more times today than the total of all the times I’ve ever been kissed before.
This time, when I get into the car, I sit right next to Ted.
It’s real dark on the road.
We drive along. My head’s on Ted’s shoulder. I put my hand on his knee.
He gives me a kiss on the top of my head and says, “Watch it. I’ve got to keep my mind on driving.”
I take my hand off his knee and move away.
“I didn’t mean you had to leave. Are you always a person of extremes?”
I nod, move back, and just sit there.
We pull into the camp parking lot. Ted stops the car motor, turns off the headlights, and puts his arms around me. “Now I don’t have to keep my mind on the driving.”
Reading books never really prepared me for how I feel. It’s one thing to read about love and caring and wanting to hold someone and be held, but this is one time that the twenty-six letters don’t come close to the real thing.
“Making out” is such a dumb expression for something so special.
Finally Ted says, “This steering wheel’s really uncomfortable. Why don’t we find someplace else to go? Like the backseat?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Afraid?”
I nod.
He kisses me. “Okay. Let’s just sit here a few minutes and relax.” He leans back.
I think about how wonderful he is. How I’ve always heard that lots of guys won’t take no for an answer. But Ted’s really nice. And I’m not ready yet. I know that. It’s not just the question of what’s right or wrong about sex. I know that right now it would be more than I could handle to actually “go all the way” as the kids in the cabin always say.
I put my hand on his knee and say, “I really care about you.”
He takes my hand off his knee and says, “That’s not going to help me to relax, to have you do that right now. I’m glad you care. I do too.”
More kissing.
“Want to reconsider your decision about not moving to the backseat?” he asks, touching my face.
“I keep reconsidering it, a lot. But no,” I say.
“Okay, then I think we should go back,” he says.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. I just think it’s best for us to stop now, if we’re not going any further. Otherwise it’s going to be very hard for me to maintain my reputation with you as ‘nice.’ ” He pats my hand. “Come on. Let’s get going.”
As we walk up the hill, he says, “Tomorrow morning I’ll talk to Carl about giving us the same days off again for the next time, if you want that.”
I nod. “I want that.”
We get to the cabin. Just as we start to say good night, we hear a lot of screaming coming from the bunk.
We rush inside.
There’s a bat in bunk five.
CHAPTER 9
There’s a bat in bunk five!
It’s flying all over the place.
I duck and feel like throwing up. What if it swoops down and its wings touch my face? Even worse, what if it bites me?
The kids are screaming, crying, and running.
Corrine’s trying to kill it with a dust mop.
Ted grabs a broom.
One of my worst fears is coming true. There really is a bat. Just when things are going well, something happens to ruin it. It’s like I’m being punished for being happy and doing what I want to do. That’s why I’m so scared much of the time. Either things are going badly or they’re going well and I expect disaster to strike.
The screams are getting louder. I think I’m one of the people screaming.
It’s bedlam, absolute craziness.
Corrine trips over Robin, who’s in the middle of the floor, curled up in a ball shape.
Stacey yells, “Don’t kill it. Let’s try to catch it and make it the bunk mascot.”
Someone throws a Frisbee.
A Paddington bear flies through the air.
Ellen’s trying to get it with her tennis racket.
Ted gets the bat.
Wham.
It falls to the floor.
He finishes off the job.
Crunch.
“I think I’m going to be sick. And they say New York City’s rough. I’ll take a cockroach to a bat any day,” Janie yells and heads outside.
Stacey starts to cry.
Ted comes over to me. “That was some BATtle, huh?”
Carl and Barbara rush in.
“What’s the problem?”
Corrine gets off the floor and points to the mangled bat. “Ted got it.”
“Good job, Ted,” Barbara says.
“I just happened to be in the neighborhood and came to the rescue.” Ted bows.
“My hero!” I say. “Perhaps I should be BATting my eyes at you.”
“I’ll dispose of this,” Carl says, pointing to the bat.
“We’ve got to give it a funeral and bury it.” Stacey’s still crying.
“I think its last wish was to be cremated,” Ted says.
“Bat killer,” Stacey says and steps on his foot. “I’m never going to talk to you again.”
Barbara explains to her about how bats may carry rabies and that Ted did the right thing.
Ginger interrupts, “And it might have been a vampire and sucked out someone’s blood and driven that person insane. The person would then have brutally murdered every other person in this bunk and then committed suicide by throwing her body on a newly sharpened marshmallow stick.”
“Warped. You’re absolutely warped. Look, let’s have the funeral and get some sleep. It’s after midnight.”
Ginger continues anyway. “The bat’s brother and sister vampires are probably going to come here and try to avenge its death. They’ll probably get all of us and we’ll leave here with fangs.”
“I wonder if my orthodontist has ever made braces for fan
gs,” Risa says. “Come on, Ginger. You’re just being obnoxious, as usual. Isn’t she?” She looks around, waiting for someone to say yes.
Barbara says, “Ginger, I think you could put your active imagination to good use. Why don’t you write some of this fiction down and submit it to the magazine.”
“She’d rather try to scare everyone,” Alicia says.
I think of how in the beginning I wanted to help her but haven’t. She’s so difficult. I don’t think she knows when to stop, what’s a joke and what’s cruel. That makes me nervous.
Corrine brings out a shoe box and shovels the bat into it.
We all grab flashlights and go outside.
Everyone shines her flashlight on one spot, and Ted makes a hole in the ground with the broom handle. Then he puts the box into the ground and says, “Now, somebody’s got to say a few words.”
“Me,” Risa yells and begins. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here . . .” begins Risa.
“That’s for weddings, dummy,” yells Ginger.
“No name-calling,” Barbara says softly, putting a hand on Ginger’s shoulder.
I expect Ginger to pull away, but she doesn’t. In fact she places her hand on Barbara’s.
Risa starts over. “We are here this evening to mourn this dearly departed bat.”
“He’s not dear,” Bobbie says.
“Well, he is departed. That’s for sure.” Risa continues. “While we did not know him for long, he will leave a memory in our minds.”
“Not in our hearts,” Helene says.
Janie pretends to cry. “He looks just like he did when he was alive.”
“Except that he’s squashed and dead,” Betsy says.
Risa continues, “. . . so we hope that he rests in peace.”
“Or pieces, ” whispers Ted, coming up behind me and putting his arms around my waist.
The girls all start to go back into the bunk.
Bobbie says, “I think we should bury the broom too. I’m never going to touch it. It’s disgusting.”
“We’ll wash it,” Carl says. “Now, those of us who live in other bunks should think about going back to them. It’s really late.”
“I guess he means me, since they’ve got a house and I’m the only other person not assigned to bunk five,” Ted says with a smile. “Carl, don’t you think I should get special visiting privileges since I saved the day?”
“Back to your bunk or I’ll have you arrested for hunting out of season.” Carl points toward the boys’ bunk area.
“And for carrying and using an unregistered broom,” I add.
Ted gives me a quick kiss good night and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Barbara turns to me. “We’re still friends, aren’t we? You’re not still upset about this morning, are you?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m trying to learn that we’ve all got the right to be human and less than perfect.”
“Except for me. Remember that I’m perfect,” Carl says.
Barbara shines her flashlight in his face. “Okay, Mr. Perfect. Then how come you left the coffeepot on tonight, forgot about it, and burned it out?”
“A momentary lapse.” He shines his flashlight into her face. “Let’s go home now.”
She nods and mumbles something about practice making perfect.
Corrine and I go into our room.
The girls have all quieted down and seem to be going to sleep.
As we change into our pajamas, Corrine says, “Boy, am I glad you two arrived when you did. Did you have a good time in Woodstock?”
“Wonderful.” I must have said or thought “wonderful” a million times today.
We climb into our bunks.
I tell her about our day and how my panty hose rolled down. After we finish laughing about that, I ask, “Corrine, how old were you when you fell in love for the first time?”
“Oh, it’s that serious, huh? Well, the first time I was eleven and he was my fifth-grade teacher. The first time the love was mutual and serious was when I was fourteen. Boy, was that great . . .and very confusing, ending when his parents decided to move to Ohio. We swore our undying love but it’s hard from a distance. After that, I fell madly in love with John, but he broke my heart. I still think about him sometimes, but it wouldn’t have worked out in the long run. Now I’m in love with David. I really miss him. He’s in France. We decided we needed some distance, some time apart. This love I hope is going to last forever. I even have the names picked out for the kids we’ll have someday.”
I think of Heather and Dylan . . . Ted and my future kids.
I also think of the comment that Heidi once made about how she doesn’t want any kids. But I do, I think. But not until I’m older, about twenty-seven, and have had a chance to do a lot of stuff.
Corrine says, “I really think Ted’s great. I’m glad you and he hit it off.” She turns out the light.
“Just remember that camp’s going to be over and both of you live in different places.”
That’s something I don’t want to think about, not now, not tonight.
There’s a lot more I want to ask Corrine, about being in love and sex, but I’m too shy to ask and I don’t want to seem like a dumb kid, especially when she’s treating me like an adult. It’s hard to know who to talk to. I’ve never been able to talk much to my mother about it, even when she sat me down and told me the facts of life. Somehow that was hard because I kept thinking she and my father must have done it, since Stuart and I are here, but it’s weird to think of your parents having sex.
I’m not just shy, I’m tired, very tired. It’s been a long day.
I’m almost asleep when I hear screams of “raid” and someone playing a trumpet.
Suddenly the whole bunk is filled with kids from the boys’ intermediate cabin.
The girls are screaming again.
I quickly jump out of bed.
Corrine grabs her robe and puts it on.
I grab mine and do the same.
Opening the door, we get bombarded with water balloons and shaving cream.
Rolls of toilet paper are flying.
The trumpet’s still playing.
Pillows are being thrown. Feathers are flying.
As quickly as it began, it’s ended.
Bunk five’s a disaster area. It’s filled with toilet paper, water, and shaving cream.
There are also frogs running around, obviously collected and saved for just this occasion.
“Someone stole Paddington,” Stacey yells. “He was my favorite stuffed animal.”
“I managed to bite one of them,” Ginger calls out.
Alicia curses in Spanish.
“Get those frogs out of here before I die,” Linda yells.
“Try catching them and putting them in a blender,” Helene yells back.
“Not funny.” Linda stands on her bunk. “Please, if you catch them, I promise I’ll never tell those two jokes again.”
The frogs are caught—I hope we got all of them—and taken outside.
“Everything okay now?” Corrine checks.
“Someone stole my bra,” Robin says.
“Don’t worry. You don’t really need one anyway,” Ginger says. “A Barbie doll’s got bigger boobs than you do.”
“I’m going to kill her,” Robin yells, lunging at Ginger.
Corrine holds her back, while I say, “Ginger, apologize.”
“Robin, I’m sorry you don’t really need a bra.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Ginger sneers. “Sorry.”
Some of the girls give Robin a hug and say things like “Don’t let her get to you,” and “We should have made her eat those frogs.”
Corrine looks around the room. “Let’s get this all cleaned up and then we’re going to have to go down to the showers to clean off.”
We clean up.
We troop down to the showers.
I’m past being exhausted. I’m not even sure I’m alive anym
ore.
Everyone looks the way I feel.
Finally we all go back to bed.
It’s finally quiet.
I wonder what Ted’s doing right now.
The sheep I try to count are all jumping over rainbows. Frogs are hopping under those rainbows.
Someone from the bunk yells, “Revenge will be ours.”
I hug my pillow, pretending the pillow’s Ted, and fall asleep.
Reveille.
Someone should shoot the kid with the bugle. Or at least put a muzzle on him.
I’m tired. The only reason I can think of for getting up is to see Ted at breakfast.
That’s enough of a reason.
I jump out of bed.
Giggling. I hear giggling. How can anyone be alert enough to coordinate their giggling mechanism after all of last night’s disturbance?
I’m almost afraid of what I’m going to find when I open the door.
I peek out, into the righthand part of the cabin.
No one’s there.
They’re all on the left side.
“What’s going on?” I ask, wiping the sleep out of my eyes.
All of the girls, except Ginger, are sitting together, looking guilty.
I repeat my question.
Risa says, “We were just practicing kissing.”
“Each other?” I ask.
“No, ourselves. Look.” She shows me her arm.
I look.
She’s given herself a hickey, a big red mark on her arm.
The rest of the girls hold out their arms. They’ve done the same to themselves. All of them have hickeys, red turning to purple.
“I didn’t do it,” Ginger says. “For once, I’m the good one.”
Corrine comes in.
“You two do it too,” Risa says. “Then we’ll all be alike, except for Ginger, and she doesn’t count anyway.”
Ginger stomps off.
Corrine looks at their arms and then at me. “Marcy, I have a feeling that today’s going to be one of those days when I wish I’d taken another kind of job.”
I nod. But that’s not really true. There’s no place in the world that I’d rather be than Camp Serendipity.
“Okay. Get ready for breakfast,” Corrine says.
The girls try to convince us to give ourselves hickeys.
When we won’t do it, they all sing, “Every party has a pooper, that’s why we invited you, party pooper.”
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