“I’m Georgica Goldstein,” I answered, trying to raise my voice above the noise. I pushed my way through the crowd toward a twenty-something guy in khaki shorts wearing his Camp Chinooka T-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt. He had dark, curly hair being held back with a bandana and some of the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen. Across his face was the perfect amount of stubble, making me wonder if he was trying to look cool or just couldn’t be bothered to shave.
“I’m Perry Gillman,” he said, juggling several things in his hand. “Head counselor for the Birch boys. Figured I should introduce myself.”
“Great,” I said, staring into his big brown eyes. “I’m Georgica, which I guess you already know. Everyone calls me Gigi.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, looking completely unruffled.
“I’m gonna start organizing the Cedar girls into bunks. I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Without a doubt,” he replied coolly.
As I walked away, I tripped over a pile of trunks and duffles, wiping out on the gravel in front of everyone.
Perry reached down to help me up. I stood up and brushed the dirt off my knees.
“Might want to pay closer attention to where you’re going,” he said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered.
I hadn’t handled the first introduction to my male equivalent for the summer particularly well. I was caught off guard by his looks and being back at camp, not to mention the number of adolescent girls gathering under the Cedar sign.
“Hi, everyone,” I said, making my way toward them. “My name’s Gigi. I’ll be your head counselor this summer.”
A few of the girls rolled their eyes and snickered. I tried not to focus on them, but I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. “I have your bunking assignments on this clipboard. Please listen carefully.”
I heard one girl in the back of the group say, “Listen carefully,” mimicking the sound of my voice. I wiped the sweat from my palms and swallowed hard. During my interview, the camp director had explained that head counselors were required to live in the bunk with the campers. I’d have a co-counselor and a CIT to handle some of the day-to-day stuff, but would be living right there with them, as a way to interact more with the girls.
I read off from the huge list of names organizing the campers, counselors and CIT’s into different cabin assignments.
“Okay, last but not least, my bunk, Bunk Fourteen,” I said, trying to rev up the remaining girls. “Your counselor is Jordana Singer. “I looked back down at the clipboard and realized that Tara was the only CIT not yet assigned.
“Lucky us, Tara Mann’s our CIT,” I said, smiling at her. “I need the following campers front and center: Emily Barnes, Han- nah Davidson, Madison Gertstein, Alana Grif n, Jessica Jacoby, Lexie Simon, Rachel Stauber, Abby Wexel, and Emily Zegantz.”
The girls settled themselves into a line and waited for their next set of instructions.
“Dinner’s at six. Go to your bunks, get unpacked, and we’ll meet in the Cedar horseshoe for roll call.”
The girls took off running to make their claims for the bottom bunks and the best cubbies. I followed behind them with Jordana, who introduced herself as we walked. She was eighteen and going to be a freshman at Brown University in the fall. She’d been a camper at Chinooka and thought it would be fun to work as a counselor before going off to college. She had fair skin and really pretty straight red hair that was held back with a tortoiseshell headband. I could tell immediately we would get along.
“What’s your story? Where do you go to school?” she asked as we walked toward the bunk.
“I’m not in college. I’m twenty-seven, actually,” I answered. She repeated the number, understandably a little puzzled by it. “I know, a little old to be working here,” I said. “Are you a teacher or something, with the summer off?” “No, I worked as a designer for Diane von Furstenberg up until a couple of weeks ago.” “Wow,” she said. “Don’t be too impressed. I was downsized.” It was a lie. I hadn’t been downsized. I’d been red. In fact,
the minute Human Resource’s number had flashed on my desk phone’s caller ID, I knew what was coming. I’d been anticipating the moment for months, and when it finally happened, I had to admit I’d felt relieved.
I remember how I’d trudged down the long hallway to HR, and saw my boss waiting for me in one of the large glass-enclosed of offices. I’d offered him a weak smile as I sat down, so he’d know none of this was his fault. The HR rep had sat across from us and poured me a glass of water. She slid a box of tissues toward me and placed a manila folder containing what I was sure was my termination paperwork on the table. My boss spoke first, reciting a well-rehearsed speech about how painful the decision to let me go was. Then, the HR rep had launched into her part, rattling off information about COBRA coverage, applying for unemployment, and rolling over my 401K into a personal IRA. I didn’t hear any of it. The voice in my head telling me I was a total failure had completely drowned her out.
Two years ago, I’d done something totally out of character and tried out for a new reality show, Top Designer, where fourteen contestants competed for a chance to show their collections during New York Fashion Week. Although I had no formal training, I was convinced I could take the fashion world by storm. While there were certainly far more talented people on the show, I believed I had something special—a sense of style that set my work and me apart. The judges had obviously agreed because I made it all the way to the finale. Although I wasn’t the ultimate victor, I did win some money to start my own line and more importantly, Diane von Furstenberg had invited me to join their creative team.
I’d broken the news of my decision to be on Top Designer to my parents while we were sitting at Georgica Beach over Memorial Day weekend. Embarrassingly enough, I was actually named for that particular Hamptons beach. I like to tell people I was conceived during a particularly hot summer following a particularly dull display of Fourth of July reworks. The unfortunate truth was that my yuppie parents had hoped they’d one day be able to afford a piece of property in the East Hamptons and thought the name would prove inspiring. My grandfather had never approved of me being named after a Long Island beach (can you blame him?) and immediately started calling me “Gigi.” Fortunately, like any good nickname, it had stuck. Thank God I didn’t have siblings, or one might have had the misfortune of being named Martha’s Vineyard, another of my parents’ favorite summer vacation spots.
As predicted, my parents hadn’t taken the news of my reality show stardom well. Although they’d offered to pay the entire cost of a law school education, they’d made it very clear they were not at all interested in contributing to what they saw as a “self- indulgent waste of time.” So, I did what any headstrong twenty- something does when faced with what they believe is their own do-or-die moment. I moved out of my parents’ apartment and in with my best friend, Alicia. I used every scrap of savings I had to cover my expenses while I was on the show and prayed that all of it would prove worthwhile. The day Diane von Furstenberg offered me a position, it seemed as though I was on my way. And the day they red me, everything had changed.
Thankfully, Jordana knew enough not to ask any follow-up questions relating to my former employer, but her next question was even worse.
“Boyfriend?” “No,” I answered, without even the smallest inflection. “You?” “I broke up with him a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to be tied
down this summer. Good thing—there are some really cute counselors this year. Have you met Perry?”
“I just met him a few minutes ago—seems nice,” I answered. “Not my taste, but definitely cute. Some girl will scoop him up.” Before we even walked into the bunk I could already hear the
girls arguing over who got what bed and which cubby. Tara’s voice was louder than all of them. I looked at Jordana and said, “Here we go.” She nodded and pushed her way into the bunk, no easy task with clothes and trunks covering most of the floor
. Finally inside, Jordana immediately went to open up some windows, while I took a good look around.
Five bunk beds lined the far wall with stacks of cubbies between each bed. On the opposite side were the two single beds meant for Jordana and me. I threw my bags down on the bed that had my name on it. I turned on the bathroom light and saw two sinks, two stalls, and another row of cubbies for toiletries and sheets. I’d forgotten there were no showers in the bunks. It was nice to see the camp retained some its original rustic qualities, but walking across the lawn, with nothing between the world and my bare behind but a towel... I shuddered at the thought.
Tara had the bottom bunk right across from us and was com- plaining about not getting a single to anyone who would listen. While the rest of the girls were settling in, making their beds, and hanging posters, I put my own things away.
First, I made up my bed, then turned the top of the cubby into an improvised nightstand. I set up an alarm clock, small lamp, and took out a framed picture of Alicia and me as campers at about the same age as the girls I was now in charge of. I stared at the two of us standing on the porch of the bunk, our hair pulled back with white bandanas, smiles from ear to ear. When one of the campers interrupted my trip down memory lane, I wiped the tears from my eyes.
“I’m Madison—Maddy,” she said. She was a slightly overweight girl in shorts and a T-shirt that were both a little too small on her.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I don’t have enough room to put away all of my things,” she answered.
“Did you see the cubbies in the bathroom?” I said, pointing to the back of the bunk. “There should be two assigned to you.”
She crossed her arms and spread her legs apart. “I already filled them.”
“Well, how much more do you have to unpack? Maybe you can just refold some of it a little smaller?” I suggested.
She pointed toward her bed, which was covered in piles of clothes.
“Give me a few more minutes to finish getting settled, and then I’ll come over to see what I can do.”
She had stopped listening and picked up the picture frame off my nightstand. “Who are they?” she asked.
“I’m the one on the left, and the girl next to me is my friend, Alicia,” I answered.
“No way that’s you,” she said. “I swear, that’s me when I was about your age.” “But you were ...” Her voice trailed off. I knew the word she was too polite to blurt out, so I said it for
her. “Fat.”
“Yeah, you were fat,” she mumbled. Her eyes were wide open, and she was still staring at the picture. “Are you still friends with that other girl? She was so pretty. Is she still really pretty?”
“She is.”
I took the picture back from Madison and looked at it. Instantly, I thought of how Alicia’d look with her hair elegantly slicked back into her wedding veil in a few weeks. More tears flooded my eyes as I imagined her standing there, alone, in her white dress, her parents delicately lifting up the veil and kissing their daughter on the cheek before escorting her down the aisle to meet Joshua. I wouldn’t be there to see it.
I was going to avoid being there. What kind of person did that?
“So what about all of my stuff?” Madison whined, snapping me back to reality.
Jordana, seeing the tears rolling down my cheeks, came to my rescue.
“You’re Maddy, right?” she asked, climbing over her bed to sit next to me on mine.
“Yeah?” Madison replied.
“Whatever you don’t plan on wearing in the next couple of weeks, keep packed in your trunk, okay? Then, in a few weeks, rotate.”
“I’ll try it,” Madison replied reluctantly.
Jordana put her arm around my shoulder. “Homesick already?” “Maybe,” I replied.
“Pull it together. You’re our fearless leader,” she teased, trying to get me to smile.
I went into the bathroom and washed my face. When I came out, Jordana had all the girls sitting in a circle on the floor of the bunk so they could introduce themselves to one another. After I told them a bit about myself, I went outside to the horseshoe for roll call.
Within seconds of yelling “Roll call,” almost fifty girls came streaming out from the five Cedar bunks, all of them raring to go. The counselors lined them up by bunk and then counted off.
When each counselor nodded to me that they had the appropriate number of campers, I took my cue to speak. This was my make-it-or-break-it moment. In the next few seconds, they would either see me as their friend, big sister, and mentor, or the person who stood in the way of them having a good time this summer. If it was the latter, their sole mission would be to get me to resign before the summer had even begun. Unfortunately, I knew this from personal experience.
“Before we head off to dinner, I just wanted to take a minute to say a few things. First off, if anyone has any problems or concerns, I want you to first talk to your counselor, but if you feel that what- ever it is isn’t being addressed, my door is always open. Second, we’re all here for the same reason—to have a good time and take advantage of everything that camp is about. We’re here to make friends and memories, so let’s try to work together and follow the rules, to ensure we have a great summer.”
I was losing them. I sounded like every other patronizing adult I used to hate at their age. I quickly changed my approach. “A little birdie told that the Cedar girls haven’t won the Gordy Award in over five years. Well, I don’t know about you, but I think that it’s our turn.”
A few of them perked up. The Gordy Award, aptly named for Gordon Birnbaum, the camp’s director for the last thirty-plus years, was given to the group that showed the most involvement and spirit during the summer. The winning group got to choose between a trip to Boston, Washington DC, or New York City and the competition usually got pretty heated. Birch had taken it the last few summers, and from what I’d heard on the bus, were intent on winning again this year. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
My years of working in the corporate world had taught me that nothing bonds a group together faster than having a common goal, and even more than that, a common enemy. I’d become close with two colleagues when management hired a manipulative, tyrant-esque VP for our division whom we all hated. Our common disdain for him was the glue that forged our friendship, and getting him red had sealed it.
If I could divert Cedar’s attention to Perry and his boys, pitting them as the enemy, I would, if even just by default, become their friend. It was a desperate tactic, but these girls were going to look for every possible way to get me to resign, just as I’d done to all of my head counselors when I was a camper.
At their age, Alicia and I had sneaked into our head counselor Mindy’s bunk while she was sleeping, covering her in shaving cream, toothpaste, and whatever else we could and, just like the scene from the movie The Parent Trap. We hoped when she woke up, she’d be too preoccupied with the mess to notice that we’d sneaked over to the boys’ side of camp.
We’d continued our barrage of practical jokes and torments through the first half of the summer until Mindy was so fed up she quit. In hindsight, I realized how awful and immature we’d acted just to have a few moments alone with the boys, but I was not about to let what happened to her happen to me. “I want to remind you ladies that if we win, we get a three-day trip to DC, Boston, or New York, not to mention bragging rights for the rest of the summer,” I added. A few of the girls whispered to one another and I could tell I’d stirred up some excitement.
“So, I ask you, are we gonna win the Gordy this year?” I shouted in their direction. I heard a few girls grumble the word ‘yes.’ I raised my voice. “I can’t hear you. I said, ‘Are we gone win the Gordy this year?’”
A few more yelled out the word ‘yes.’ Jordana made eye contact with me and then nudged some of the quieter girls to speak up.
“Are we gonna kick the Birch boys’ asses and take the Gordy?” I screamed out like a mani
ac.
They yelled the word “yes” at the tops of their lungs.
“Good. So now I want you all to repeat after me: We are Cedar, we couldn’t be prouder, and if you can’t hear us, we’ll shout a little louder. We are Cedar, we couldn’t be prouder, and if you can’t hear us, we’ll shout a little louder.”
By the third verse, all the girls had joined in, and I started our march toward the dining hall. When the counselors saw my signal, they prompted the girls to follow. We headed to the Great
Lawn, screaming the chant, and continued cheering all the way into the dining hall. When we walked in, we had the attention of the entire room. Perry’s eyes were fixed on me. He looked upset we’d already gotten the upper hand and made a beeline in my direction.
“Throwing your hat in the ring for the Gordy?” The girls were still screaming the cheer behind me. “Maybe?” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “You know Birch has won it for the last three summers,” he said very matter-of-factly. “Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere,” I replied. “Well, it’ll be nice to have a worthy adversary for a change.” “I’m guessing you’re the one who led them to victory last year?” “Last year and the two years before,” he answered. “I’m planning on continuing our streak this summer.” “Whatever,” I said, feeling a bit argumentative. “There’s a new sheriff in town.” “Rubbish,” he answered. “Or, as you American girls say, whatever.” “We don’t say that. I mean, I just said whatever, but it’s not a fair generalization.” “Whatever,” he teased. “Stop saying that. If you think Americans are such rubbish, why are you here?” “I’m working on my doctorate, so I have my summers off.
Although I have to put in some time on my thesis.” Attractive or not, he was a little too self-satis ed. Before I could respond, Gordy made his way up to the microphone stand in the center of the room. I didn’t know if it was the Chinooka air or water that preserved him, but he hadn’t aged one bit. The entire room quieted, and he started to sing the Camp Chinooka alma mater into the microphone. Within seconds the rest of the room joined in. It was amazing how I remembered every word and every in direction, able to sing it effortlessly. When the song was over, Gordy welcomed us all to the centennial summer and invited everyone to enjoy the meal.
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