by P. J. Night
Yes!
She couldn’t believe it. A boyfriend. At last. It was something she’d always wanted—and one of the few things she hadn’t yet had.
Oh, sure, lots of boys had liked her. That wasn’t the problem at all. The problem was always that as soon as they liked her, she felt like moving on. But Dennis was different, that was obvious. It was just too bad that they’d met the last weekend of camp instead of the first. Then he could have been her boyfriend for the whole four weeks.
She walked on dreamily, holding his sweatshirt up to her nose.
“Sam!”
She stopped at the sound of her name and guiltily spun around.
“Oh, Gwen.” She spotted her counselor. “Uh, hi. What’s up?”
Gwen was seventeen and, as far as Sam was concerned, the best counselor in the world. From her cool beaded jewelry to her pretty, yet practical, French braids, she was just the kind of teenager that Sam hoped to be one day. Gwen wasn’t smiling at her though. Beneath her khaki cap, she had a stern look on her face.
The counselor eyed Sam up and down. “I think what’s up with you is the question,” she replied. “Where have you been all afternoon? And what were you doing? You’re a mess.”
“Me? Um . . .” Sam wanted to look for somewhere small and dark to hide. “Well, I had arts and crafts and then swimming . . .” she started.
Gwen’s eyebrows fell in together. “I’m talking about after that,” she said. “Where exactly have you been for the past two hours? Hmm? Did you go off by yourself into the woods? And how’d you get so dirty? What’d you do? Fall in a trap?”
Sam wasn’t sure if she turned red at that moment or as white as a ghost. What she did know was that she was sweating underneath the thick sweatshirt.
She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said, struggling to squeeze the meek sound out of her throat.
Gwen, meanwhile, shook her head, half in disappointment and half in dismay. “I can’t believe it, Sam. What were you thinking? What if you’d gotten lost? Or hurt? Here I’ve been thinking you were counselor-in-training material, and you go and break a major Minnehaha rule.”
Sam winced. Gwen’s words hurt a lot—mostly because they were so true. She wanted to explain why it had been so worth it, but then she thought again. I just had to meet this boy that I had a dream about. She could imagine Gwen’s reaction to that. Sam figured that the whole truth was probably best kept to herself.
The only thing Sam could do right now was beg for mercy. “I’m so sorry, Gwen. I am, really! Believe me, I can still be a good CIT.” It was something she’d been thinking about since the first day of camp. Only a few girls got picked, and Sam was determined to be one. She thought about it every day.
The counselor sighed and looked down at her wrist full of colorful bracelets, at least half of which Sam had made. She straightened the knots on a few. “Well, I hope so,” she said. “But I still have to punish you.”
Sam closed her eyes and nodded. “I completely understand.”
Gwen took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “I’m tempted to say no dance tonight, Sam,” she declared.
What? No! “I’m serious.” Gwen nodded.
Sam’s mouth fell wide open.
No! Anything but that!
“Oh, please, Gwen. Please. Can’t it be something else? I’ll clean the whole cabin. The latrine. Every bunk’s latrine! Anything! Anything at all, if you’ll only let me go.”
“I don’t know.” Gwen pursed her lips and gave her chin a wary rub.
“Oh, please, Gwen,” said Sam. “I’m so sorry. I really, really am.”
“Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you broke a rule,” Gwen replied. But then her face softened slightly. “Oh, Sam, don’t look at me like that.”
Sam held her breath and hoped. Maybe, just maybe, Gwen would change her mind.
“Oh, okay. Maybe I’m being too harsh. You have been the perfect camper till now. And you did admit the truth when I asked you,” Gwen went on.
Sam nodded and smiled weakly as her heart sputtered back to life.
“Plus I kind of like that latrine idea,” Gwen said. “You know, someone let the toilet paper unravel all over the wet floor.” She paused. “Okay, Sam, go clean it up, and I guess that’s punishment enough. This time. Don’t let there be a next time.”
“Oh, Gwen! You’re the best!” Sam reached out and hugged Gwen so hard that it knocked her hat onto the ground.
“Yeah, I know.” Gwen grinned as Sam dove to retrieve the hat and returned it to her head.
“Thanks.” Gwen reached up to straighten it, then her eyes grew serious again. “The thing is, Sam, this rule is no joke. It’s dangerous to be out in the woods all by yourself. I mean, we try not to talk about it, but things have happened in the past.” She eyed Sam’s stained face and knees. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” she asked.
Sam wagged her head back and forth quickly. “No, no. Not at all. I’m fine.”
“Hey.” Gwen seemed to suddenly notice Sam’s sweatshirt. “I didn’t know you had one of those old Hiawatha sweatshirts. I haven’t seen one of them in a while.”
“Old?” Sam looked down self-consciously, but hopelessly happy, as well.
“You know, I don’t know why they changed them and added a pine tree,” Gwen went on. “I think the plain letters looked perfectly fine.”
“When did they change them?” Sam asked. “Last year?”
Gwen shook her head. “Oh no. Gosh.” She thought for a second. “It was before I even started coming here, so I’d say at least ten years ago. This one still looks pretty new, though.” She gently brushed Sam’s shoulder. “Except, of course, for all that dirt.”
Sam shrugged, half smiling and wholly hoping that Gwen didn’t ask her where the sweatshirt was from. At the same time, Sam had the very same question. She’d assumed it was Dennis’s camp sweatshirt from this year. But now it sounded like it couldn’t be. She wondered where he’d gotten it. Just another question to ask him that night at the dance, it seemed.
The dance!
“What time is it?” Sam suddenly asked Gwen.
Gwen checked her watch. “Six o’clock.”
Sam nodded toward the latrine. “Well, then I’d better get to work!”
Moments later another red-haired girl stepped out from behind the arts-and-crafts hut where she’d been hiding ever since Sam walked up. At first she’d been smiling. But not anymore. It was Ali, and from the moment Sam set off on her hike, she had been looking forward to seeing her sister squirm. It was because of Ali, in fact, that Gwen knew that Sam was gone. Gwen hadn’t even asked. Ali just found her in the cabin and happily let the cat out of the bag. She couldn’t remember the last time her sister had gotten in trouble, and it gave Ali goose bumps to watch Gwen chew her out. And then when she heard the counselor say “No dance,” she was so thrilled she thought she’d burst!
But then, just like always, lucky-duck Sam came out just fine. Ali was glad, at least, that she had walked away from that mess in the bathroom and left it for Sam to clean up—although Ali knew she could have made it much messier.
Ali knew that if she’d been caught doing what Sam did, she would have missed the dance for sure. She slept through one breakfast the first week of camp, and Gwen gave her a broom and made her sweep out the whole bunk.
How did Sam do it? That was all Ali wanted to know.
And why couldn’t she lead Sam’s charmed life, just for once.
CHAPTER 7
“Are you ready yet?” Ali asked, tapping her foot against the pale linoleum floor. “Everyone else is on the bus. If we don’t go right now, they’ll leave without us.”
Sam spun around from the latrine mirror with an eager smile across her face. “Okay, I think I’m ready,” she told her sister. “But first, be honest. How do I look?”
Ali shrugged. Sam looked amazing in her favorite green T-shirt, her cutest jeans, and the bead choker she’d made in arts and crafts that week.
Her hair was held back with a thin glittery headband and hung past her shoulders in soft coppery waves. Ali had the instant urge to rip out her sparkly barrettes and do her hair the same way. But no, she could never give her sister that satisfaction. She left both barrettes in place, despising them with all her heart.
“You look fine,” she told Sam dryly. “Anyway, it’s too late to change.”
“Okay.” Sam sighed and grabbed a backpack off a nearby hook. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Ali eyed the bag. “What’s in there?” she asked.
Sam hugged the backpack close and grinned. “Dennis’s sweatshirt. I’m going to return it. Oh, and a brush. If you need it, just let me know.”
Sam had told her sister all about Dennis, of course. But she’d decided to wait to tell the other girls in Bunk 9. She wanted to tell them—so badly!—but she was still self-conscious and even felt a little guilty about breaking the rules that afternoon. Plus she had had a whole latrine to clean while everyone else hung out talking and getting ready for the dance. She was actually glad that she didn’t have time to answer any questions about where she’d been and what she’d done. And besides her friends would find out about her dreamy, amazing new boyfriend, Dennis Shaw, soon enough. (Surprising them at the dance was going to be so much fun!)
She wished that Ali seemed more excited for her, but at the same time, she wasn’t surprised. She didn’t know why awesome things that made her so happy always put Ali in such a bad mood.
What Ali did seem was curious. She kept asking question after question, like, “So what did he look like again?” and “What color were his eyes?” and “He wasn’t at all creepy?” That one, in particular, she must have asked three times.
“No, he was nice!” Sam told her. “He was really sweet and cute!”
But instead of seeming satisfied, Ali frowned and looked confused.
The dance was in the boys’ camp mess hall, which wasn’t so different from the girls’. The floor, the walls, and the ceiling were all dark, well-worn wood, with thick timber columns running down the middle in two sturdy, spread-out rows. It had basically been transformed, though, by a big disco ball. The mirrored globe hung from a beam in the very middle of the room. A single spotlight was pointed at it. The hall was dark otherwise.
All the tables and benches had been pushed back to leave a wide-open space to dance, but it was still empty when the girls walked in and looked around. The boys hung back in the shadows by the benches, nodding and tapping their toes. The tiny lights cast by the disco ball were the only dancers so far. They swirled around the floor like tiny, cheerful ghosts.
“Well? Where is he?” Ali asked Sam, gazing around the hall.
Sam studied the scattered clusters of boys, in all their varying sizes and shapes. “I don’t know. I don’t see him yet,” she whispered back. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “He’ll get here later, I guess.”
But how much later? Sam started to wonder as five, then ten, then fifteen minutes passed. It was dark, though. Could he be there and she didn’t even know? Could she actually be missing that hair? And those eyes? She began to scour the room for a second, and soon a third, time.
By then a run of really good songs had gotten a few groups out onto the floor.
“Come on!” Jennifer said, running up to Sam and Ali. “Let’s all go out and dance.”
Ali sneered. “No thanks. I don’t dance in groups.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself,” she told her. “How about you, Sam? Come on!”
“I will,” Sam promised. “But not right now. You all go, and I’ll meet you out there in a little while.”
She watched her friends skip off together and let out a sigh. “Where is he?” she groaned to herself, looking all around.
But then, just at that very moment, Sam saw Ali’s eyes grow wide. She was staring at something over Sam’s shoulder. Sam instantly felt a flutter in her stomach as if she’d swallowed a little bird.
“Don’t tell me this is him,” Ali muttered, smirking.
Instantly Sam spun around. But where she first looked, there was nothing. Slowly her eyes drifted down. They landed eventually on a boy, but it wasn’t Dennis. No. Definitely not.
This boy had short, bristly hair and a thick layer of freckles, and enormous, bright red ears.
“Hi. Want to dance?” he asked quickly, as if he were afraid he might forget.
Sam smiled down at him sweetly. “Me? Oh thanks! I would, but I’m actually waiting for someone right now. Hey, his name is Dennis. Do you know him?” she eagerly asked.
The boy nodded. “Yeah, sure. He’s dancing with his girlfriend. Over there.”
What?
Sam choked then coughed. It felt like a hammer had slammed her throat. She followed his eyes across the dance floor as her whole body grew numb.
Beside her, Ali started laughing. “Aww, poor Sam,” she began to say.
Sam just kept peering. “Where is he?” she asked the boy.
“Right there,” he said, pointing. “That’s Dennis, there, with the blond hair.”
“Oh!” Sam smiled and automatically began to breathe again. “Wrong Dennis!” She turned to Ali to share the happy news. Then she turned back to the boy and explained, “I meant Dennis Shaw.”
“Oh, Shaw.” The boy nodded.
“Yeah. Do you know him?” Sam asked.
The boy shook his head. “Nope. Sorry, I don’t. I mean . . .” He paused to think, and Sam leaned toward him, waiting to hear what would come next.
“Yes?”
“I was just going to say the name does sound familiar. Shaw, I mean. I think some guys in my cabin had a counselor one year with that name. Hey, what cabin is your friend in?” he asked her.
“I don’t know.” Sam sucked her cheeks. She wished she’d thought to ask him that—along with so many other things. “But, I do know he’s a camper here.” She patted her backpack. “I have proof—a special sweatshirt that I have to return.”
The boy, in the meantime, seemed to have only just noticed that Ali was standing there too. “Hey, are you guys twins?” he asked, cocking his head.
Ali rolled her eyes. “No,” she said, pulling her hair across her chin.
“Oh, Ali!” Sam laughed off her sister’s sarcasm. Then she winked at her. “Hey, why don’t you two dance? I’m going to keep looking for Dennis. You guys go out and have fun.”
Ali glared at her smiling sister, but before she could say anything, they boy was dragging her away. He led her to the dance floor, where he immediately began to bob and sway. Ali cringed and closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him. He reminded her of a sad, short-circuiting robot—with ridiculous satellite-dish ears.
Why didn’t I dance with Jennifer and the other girls? she lamented to herself.
Meanwhile Sam’s eyes were off again in search of Dennis, still with no success. There was a refreshment table, she could see, near the kitchen. Maybe Dennis was over there.
There was food laid out: some chips, and some cookies and brownies, which looked freshly made. Sam picked up one—a blondie, her favorite usually—and took a half-hearted bite. It tasted fine, but it didn’t matter much since she had no appetite. All she could think about was Dennis Shaw. She wanted him, not something to eat.
You have to be patient, she tried to tell herself. Maybe he stayed a lot longer in the clearing. And maybe he’s still getting ready. He might have wanted to take a shower. And hey, who knew? He might have run into his counselor and had some latrine cleaning to do too.
Sam took another brooding bite of the blondie. Then she noticed the wall behind the table. It was covered with old camp photographs. She walked around to look at them more closely. It’s better than just standing here looking stupid, Sam told herself.
The photos, she saw, were of Hiawatha campers going all the way back to 1951. Wow, Sam thought. It was pretty amazing how alike the groups all looked. The only thing that really seemed to change was th
e haircuts—and color pictures, starting in 1974. Oh, and the sweatshirts, too, she realized. They had changed, just like Gwen said. The newer ones had a big pine tree encircled by the camp name on the front instead of a simple white CAMP HIAWATHA. The last year to have those, it looked like, was ten years ago. Sam’s eyes wandered across the faces of that year . . . then suddenly stopped.
That face. That smile. Those eyes. They were so familiar. The sweatshirt, too. And instantly Sam knew why.
They all belonged to Dennis Shaw!
But, no. Of course it couldn’t be. The picture was ten years old. There was no possible way that Dennis could be in it. That would make him an adult by now! Sam thought.
Still, the resemblance between them was unbelievable, and it sent a chill zipping straight up her spine. She wished she could turn on the lights in the mess hall and get a better, clearer look. If only there were names on that year, as there were on a few other ones.
Names!
Of course! Why hadn’t she looked at those before?
There was no picture for this year’s group yet, but there was for the year before. And yes, there were names for that year. She scanned them.
And yes, there was a Shaw!
Sam sighed, though. It wasn’t Dennis. This boy’s name was Ben. And he looked older, like a counselor, though his eyes were the same silvery blue like Dennis’s. She traveled back to the year before that one and found a slightly younger Ben again. And this time he wasn’t the only Shaw. There was another one named Nick. In fact, of all the pictures with names, she quickly realized, at least half had one Shaw or more—and the resemblance between all of them was amazingly strong.
Ah, that’s it! Sam thought. That picture from ten years ago wasn’t of Dennis. It was of his brother, or some young uncle, or cousin. Whatever. That wasn’t the point. The point was, this camp was full of Shaws, or at least had been in the past. And that explained everything, as far as Sam was concerned: the picture, the old sweatshirt, and how Dennis knew about that secret cabin hidden away deep in the woods. It even explained why he answered both yes and no when she asked him if it was his first summer at camp. His family has been coming here forever—he must feel like he’s a part of this place and this place is a part of him.
