Nothing Happened

by Molly Booth

  Each counselor was worth a different amount of points. The more points the counselor was worth, the harder they were to find. We used to ask the kids to assign the points, but now we did it randomly, because it became a terrible popularity contest, and Donald always won.

  One setting sun, sixty or so campers, a dozen counselors, half a dozen CITs. Mayhem.

  “All right!” I called out over the field. The murmuring and excitement began to die away, but Bee’s voice cut it down like a machete:

  “Listen up, Camp Dogberry!”

  Sixty silent, attentive faces. You could hear the peepers.

  Skills.

  “Thank you.” I nodded at her. She winked in response and my heart backflipped. It was almost like old times. “So tonight, we’re playing Counselor Hunt!” Applause erupted from the field, but they quieted down quickly for the rules. I ran through the basics for the new kids and then looked behind me on the grass, where I’d set down the points cards—colorful poster board with lanyard ties. The counselors wore them around their necks, like nametags.

  “Where—”

  “Bee is worth one thousand points!”

  I turned. Donald was already assigning Bee her points card, dramatically placing it over her head. The campers clapped, giddy. Great.

  “Donald…” I tried. He dodged around me and continued.

  “Hana is worth an entire birthday cake!” Everyone cracked up. “Which is equivalent to three hundred points.” Hana dipped her head through the loop and gave a little wave. “Claudia is worth five hundred points, and half an ice cream cake.”

  All right, well, he’d taken my job, but the entire field was rolling in laughter. Except John and Bobby, who were, predictably, worth ten points each.

  Finally, he got to the end of the line, awarded himself a thousand points plus the best sunglasses award. That was not a thing at all. Then he got to me—

  “Finally,” he said, holding up a points card. “Our young Benjamin is worth three thousand points.”

  We didn’t even have that card. I looked at what he put over my head: he’d added two zeros to the thirty points card.

  “You, my friend, are the Golden Snitch!” he announced proudly. That reference was lost on the majority of our campers, but they clapped anyway.

  After the fancy part was over, Donald handed it back to me for the actual game work. We divided the kids into teams and assigned them each a CIT or first-year counselor. They had to give us ten minutes to start hiding, and then BLAM. The older counselors had a quick huddle before we set off.

  “No hiding inside, under, or on buildings,” I reminded them. “And nobody take the waterfront.” I put my hand in the middle, we all did: one, two, three, Camp Dogberry! And we broke off.

  “Better hide somewhere good, Rosenthal,” Bee whispered, as we headed out. “Gotta live up to those points.”

  There wasn’t even any sarcasm in her voice. I grabbed the olive branch and tried not to do a maypole dance around it.

  “Back at you, Leonato.” That sounded normal.

  “Pshh,” she scoffed. “I’m apparently only worth a third of you.”

  “It’s hard being the best,” I admitted. “But someone’s gotta make the game interesting.”

  Pink sunrays hit her brilliant smirky smile; I tripped over a tree root. By the time I got up, her snickers were echoing down the trail. Donald, Claudia, Hana, and Margo had already disappeared.

  Hide, Ben.

  Right.

  Three thousand points. We’d never assigned that many. I ran through my options: goat shed, haystack, tire swing pine trees, under the outdoor clay sink? Could I burrow into the sand at the volleyball court? Impersonate a log at the sing-along fire pit?

  Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. I didn’t like the thought, but my feet started moving without my consent, as my stomach twisted.

  Quickly, I jogged past the waterfront, behind Dam, up the trail, out into Nest, where I found the fuzziest dogberry bush of the bunch, crouched down, and inserted myself into the branches. The raw, sticky wood rubbed at my skin, but eventually I found a position I could tolerate. It was the perfect spot: Nest was an easily forgettable location. The campers didn’t come up here often, maybe only for stargazing once in a while. And three thousand points was a lot of hiding responsibility.

  Still, I thought. I had other options. Why had I returned to the scene of the crime?

  A few minutes later, I heard distant hoots and hollers: the race was on!

  Over the next hour, voices floated up from Dam and the garden. There were screams of victory, and cries of defeat carried up to me on the wind as counselors got away.

  Finally, I heard footsteps coming up the trail. At this point, I was ready to be found. Usually I was a patient hider, but this spot I’d picked…I’d just been staring out into the middle of the clearing, watching the sun set, the stars come out, the scene in my head projected onto the space before me. There was Bee, there was me, there was my arm around her, there was the briefest hint of possibility. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted our former selves to scrap the whole thing and go to bed, or whether I wanted them to try harder. To be more honest with each other. What if she had just told me that she only wanted to hook up—nothing more? Would I have said fine and done it and been hurt anyway?

  So yeah, after an hour of that circle of hellish thinking, I was A-OK with being found.

  But it wasn’t campers.

  “Is he here?” Donald’s voice at the top of the trail.

  “I don’t see him, but where else could he be?” Claudia.

  They must’ve been found already. Suddenly, I saw this for what it was: an excellent opportunity to scare the crap out of my friends. I could see their outlines in the dark—they turned and started seeking on the other end, making their way around Nest’s edges. Soon they’d be close enough that I could reach out and grab their ankles.

  Their voices were lower on the other end of the clearing, so I couldn’t hear them. I was mostly focused on the space in front of me, holding my breath till I could see their shoes.

  Footsteps and voices sounding closer, closer, closer. Shoes. Yes. I could grab one of each foot. I slowly, silently wove my hands through the bush’s branches. I was just about to reach out—

  “I told you: we definitely can’t tell Ben,” Claudia said.

  Wait, what?

  “Bee is in love with him, and we’re not going to tell him?” Donald asked.

  “NO WAY,” I replied. “We’re not telling him. What good would that do?”

  Donald eyed the bush, trying not to laugh. We’d both just heard Ben squeak.

  “I don’t know…” Donald managed, grinning like a madman. “I feel like he deserves to know.”

  He looked at me expectantly. Crap. I’d completely lost my lines. Everything we’d rehearsed had gone right out of my head. And I hated improv.

  Donald mimed smacking his forehead but picked it up: “I know Hana told you not to say anything.”

  “Right!” I said. “She did say that! She told me not to tell anyone!” This didn’t sound super realistic coming out of my mouth. What were words, what was saying things? Did I ever sound realistic?

  “I get that, but how can she drop this news on you and not expect us to tell our friend?” Donald continued. Okay, okay, Claudia. Focus. What came next?

  “Yeah.” I snapped my fingers. “She said that Bee was going crazy with Ben being back this summer.”

  “Like how?” Donald prompted.

  “She’s so obsessed with him she can’t think about anything else!” I said. That sounded good. And currently what I was experiencing with Hana. “And she can’t sleep! Or…eat dairy!”

  “Dairy?” Donald said, genuinely surprised. I was on a roll.

  “Yeah, her stomach gets upset,” I explained. “Bad poops. She’s so stressed. She can’t even shower!”

  “Shower?” Donald repeated, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, she keeps forget
ting to shower,” I said. “Because she’s so in love with him?” This was starting to sound fake. I quickly added: “That’s what Hana said, anyway.”

  Donald held a hand over his mouth, literally holding in laughter. Jerk. After heaving a few deep breaths he finally spoke in a rush of air: “Well, you know, love is a powerful thing, man. So is stank, though. I hope she’s swimming…and avoiding dairy.”

  “Me too,” I said. Was this over yet?

  “So anyway, I guess what you’re saying is, we can’t tell Ben because he would never, ever admit to liking her back.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. Stick to questions, Claudia, not statements.

  Donald glanced in the direction of the dogberry bush, then winked at me. “Well, you know Ben. He’s got the emotional depth of a dinner plate.”

  “Maybe a canoe?” I offered.

  Ben

  Seriously? Fuck these guys!

  Claudia

  We heard another small, indignant noise from the branches, and out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the shadow of a middle finger.

  “Did you hear a mouse?” Donald asked innocently. We both cracked up, silently, but I pulled out of it fast: I didn’t know how much longer Ben could hold it together. “So yeah. I don’t think he’s, um”—there were a few stray tears of laughter running down Donald’s face—“I don’t think he can deal with…feelings.”

  “Tell me about it.” I rolled my eyes. He’d been such a jerk when I’d told him about my feelings for Hana.

  “And he’s never even had a girlfriend.”

  “So true,” I said, feeling the smug slip out. I mean, I had a girlfriend.

  “Now that I’m thinking about it,” Donald pondered. “Even if he liked Bee, he would totally shoot her down or fuck it up somehow.” I couldn’t tell if that was acting or not.

  “You’re right,” I said. Because that seemed to be what Donald wanted.

  “And Hana’s right,” he said firmly. “We wouldn’t want Bee to have to deal with that. It’s probably better this way. Her feelings’ll fade eventually.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t want that to happen to her. Rejection from Ben. Double ouch.” We both laughed.

  “Me neither.” Donald sighed. “Bee’s kind of the greatest.”

  “Well…”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Donald shoved me lightly. “Something about how ‘her sister’s cool, too.’”

  “She is.”

  “Speaking of which, shouldn’t we go? The game’s almost over, and I feel like you’re gonna want to gaze adoringly at Hana across the fire.”

  I frowned at him. But then I realized that’s totally what I wanted to do.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  He put an arm around my shoulder and started steering me toward the trail again. As we left, I tried not to look back at Ben, who I’m sure was throwing the most dramatic fit of all time.

  THEY WALKED BACK to the trail, trampling through my dreamscape of Bee and me on the picnic blanket. I waited for an extra thirty seconds, just to make sure they were really and truly gone, then I stepped out into the clearing and sat down. Hard.

  Dam’s generator whirred from down below. The moon and starlight hummed. A beetle landed on my forearm and stared up at me judgmentally.

  Bee liked me?

  The back of my neck burned. Was I sunburnt or blushing or both?

  I closed my eyes, pictured Bee. Her high forehead and cheekbones, her round, dark eyes flanked by darker lashes. That smirk on her lips—her lips—that so easily broke into a grin. Crossing her arms. Bursting into laughter. Pointing one finger with such command that an entire room of children pretending to be jungle animals instantly became taxidermy.

  The greatest. Donald was right. She was.

  And she liked me—loved me?

  My heart beat into my stomach, into the grass and ground beneath me.

  I loved her.

  If a nearby pine tree had fallen on top of me, that would’ve been a lighter blow than this.

  “Ha-ha, what?” I said out loud. To no one. Maybe the judgmental beetle.

  I launched off the ground, almost blacked out from dizziness, steadied myself, and started pacing around in circles.

  I loved Beatrice Leonato. Really, her full name? a part of me protested.

  My pacing picked up—I jogged in wider and wider circles. It helped me think, break this down.

  Claudia had said that Bee was afraid that I’d reject her if she’d said anything. But I had told her last year that I liked her, and she’d rejected me: just friends. She’d rejected me! But maybe she regretted it now? And thought I wouldn’t forgive her?

  Or had something else happened that night? Something I hadn’t understood?

  Donald and Claudia clearly thought I would fuck things up if the opportunity presented itself. Maybe they weren’t wrong.

  Sidenote: Why had I spent so much time in bushes listening to people making fun of me this summer?

  THE MUSIC SWELLED, the stars danced, and fireworks went off—prematurely. Because we were standing on that rock, holding each other, our pulses racing, lips moving closer. And then we were distinctly doing none of those things.

  Okay, so she didn’t want to kiss me. Or…well, we’d both jumped back before it could happen. And then I’d tromped behind her on the trail, trying to wrack my brain for a memory made a moment ago. Did one of us jump back first? Which one?

  The brown boat shed, Stickleback, came into view. If we took a hard right, it was a fifteen-minute walk back to camp. A rough fifteen minutes. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I felt all of this, whatever it was, slipping away as the sky grew ever so slightly brighter.

  “Do you think the Bandytails are in there?”

  I almost bumped into Bee. We’d stopped. She walked up to one of the murky windows and was peering in.

  “We could check?” I offered. My heartbeats grew more deliberate.

  “Why not?” She opened the door. I followed her inside.

  Stickleback was dark and dusty, but my eyes adjusted. The air smelled stale and musty, but my nose adjusted. Odd wooden chairs and heaps of sunfish sails, looming empty boat racks.

  A pair of raccoons, called the Bandytails, often camped out in Stickleback. They left behind plenty of poop, footprints under the windowsills, and sometimes tufts of fur caught on the metal racks. Staff and campers had logged only a few actual sightings because they seemed to invade at night exclusively.

  Bee and I checked the couple old paddleboats in the back—no cute faces staring up at us. We checked in the tackle cubbies. We checked the closet with rigging, too. Nothing. We gave up.

  So much for those deliberate heartbeats. This was so over.

  Except on our way out, I tripped on a rope. I swear I didn’t mean to. I don’t think.

  I grabbed Bee on my way down, and laughing tiredly, we both fell onto a pile of tarps. We landed with Bee on top of me, face-to-face, chests pressed against each other. She stayed there.

  “This is actually pretty comfortable,” she whispered. I nodded. “Is there any poop?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  With those magical words, her lips were on mine.

  MAYBE SOMETHING HAD tangled that night. A misunderstanding. This whole time, I’d thought that I was the one confused and Bee had known what had happened. But it sounded like we were both in the dark. So maybe this wasn’t over.

  Holy crap, this isn’t over.

  A shadowy figure appeared at the top of the trail.

  “Ahhhh!” I screamed.

  “Ben? What are you doing?”

  Oh, it was her. Her voice demanded, sparkling with irritation. Like a powerful, angry bell, sounding through the windy silence, vibrating my entire heart and soul.

  She was standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of the clearing.

  “Bee! Hey!” I ran over and nearly slammed into her, stopping just short. She jumped, with sharp intake of breath, then relaxed and rolled her
eyes. I quickly looked her over. She did seem a little grungy….She wasn’t showering.

  “What are you—” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Whatever. Never mind.” She waved a hand. “They sent me up here to find you. Were you even hiding?”

  I stared at her for a minute. I didn’t know if I could talk.

  Hiding? Why would I be hiding?

  “Oh, yes!” I shouted, suddenly remembering, startling her again. “For the game. In that bush, for most of the night.”

  “Well, the game’s over, Houdini.” She sighed. “Nobody found the snitch. Hiding that well is kind of poor sportsmanship.”

  The game was over. I had no idea what else she said. “Thank you so much for coming to tell me.” Why did my voice sound so formal?

  She scrunched her brow. “You’re welcome? I got sent to find you. You’re, like, an hour late for s’mores.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said. “Sorry about that—didn’t mean to make you worry.” I smiled at her and strode toward the trail.

  She didn’t follow. I looked back, and she was staring at me as if I had horns. Would she still like me if I had horns? From what Claudia said, probably. Cool.

  “I wasn’t worried,” she said, and then stomped over. “It’s not like I care. You’re in trouble with everyone else.”

  Aha! “So you wanted to give me a heads-up?” I asked. “Thank you!” We came out at the bottom of the trail.

  “What?” she snapped. “No. Why are you being so weird?”

  “I’ll grab extra supplies, to make up for it.” Before she could protest, I jumped into Dam’s kitchen to grab an exorbitant amount of marshmallows and chocolate. And some extra bug juice mix, just in case. I threw all of it into a cooler while Bee watched.

  On our way out, I had a sudden thought and pointed to the bathroom. “Do you need to go before we head over?”

  She looked at the door, then me, then the door, then me. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it—but I didn’t want her to be in any sort of discomfort, and I had seen her eat a cheeseburger at lunch.