“Sure. Is Slimey a nickname?” he asked.
Good. Now I have something to talk about! she thought, relieved. “Well, yeah, that’s what everyone calls me.”
“Oh. I bet you can get them to call you something else, like, uh, Cool . . . Cat, since you’re not slimy.”
“Thanks.” She giggled. “But I actually like Slimey. I wish I was called it at school instead of Stephanie Gregson, ’cause there’s, like, three Stephanies in my grade.” Does he think I’m cool? Or just as cool as a cat? She thought cats were cool, but not as cool as cockatiels.
“Where did it come from?”
“Oh, so when I was eight, I was a little dyslexic, but not really, and my grandparents used to call me ‘Smiley’ in their letters. So when I wrote back, I signed off ‘Love, Slimey’ instead of ‘Smiley,’ and it was funny, and it stuck.”
“Cool.”
He thinks I’m cool! she cheered herself on. “So, what’s your real name, Smelly?”
“Yeah, I was hoping you missed that when Rick was pairing us off. It’s Robert. The guys are calling me Smelly—but I don’t smell, I swear—so they should really just call me Bobby.”
“OK, Bobby.” Slimey took a sneaky whiff, and he was right—he didn’t smell bad at all. In fact, he smelled like piña coladas.
Rick clapped to get their attention. “All right, now that you’ve learned some random info, let’s move on to a Camp Rolling Hills favorite. Each pair is going to get one of these marshmallows on a licorice string.”
“Sweet-sauce!” Play Dough exclaimed.
“Do not eat the marshmallow.”
“Sour-sauce!”
“Each partner is going to take an end of the string and put it in their mouth. When I say go, you start eating. Whoever gets to the marshmallow first wins!”
Bobby looked confused. Slimey figured he’d never played this game before, and she was suddenly jittery-excited to show him how it was done.
Rick waited a split second, and then: “On your mark, get set, go!”
Slimey went at it, chewing the licorice as fast as she could. She looked at Bobby’s face getting closer and closer to hers, and then she looked up at his hair to avoid eye contact. She noticed he was doing the same. Her lips closed around the marshmallow. “Yes, I win!” Slimey took the marshmallow out of her mouth, sucking her saliva off it. “Want a bite?”
Bobby crossed his arms. “Uh, it was already in your mouth.”
“It’s camp. We share everything.”
“That’s . . . weird.”
No, it’s not, Slimey thought. It’s not like I have the stomach flu. A little hurt, she put the marshmallow back in her mouth and chewed. It didn’t taste so good anymore. It would be a million times better if it were roasted. She bet he’d share it with her then.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “I guess I just have a lot to get used to.”
His apology gave the marshmallow some of its flavor back. “Well, how do you like camp so far?”
“It’s . . . fine.”
Fine? No one describes camp as fine. Amazing, incredible, life-changing, maybe. But never fine.
“The first time I came here,” she offered, “it took me a couple of days to realize how much I loved it, but once you do, you love it forever. You’ll see.”
“That would be cool, to love camp. For this summer, at least. Next summer, my parents told me I could go back to baseball camp and play All-Stars.”
But everyone comes back to camp. No matter what, she thought. “Cool . . . ,” she said instead.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to come here, but my parents are . . . not getting along, and they wanted the summer to sort stuff out. Baseball camp’s only three weeks.”
Slimey could feel her heart tighten in her chest. She got it now. Bobby hadn’t come here because he’d begged his mom to let him, the way she had. He was forced away because stuff at home was bad. That explained his rudeness. “Oh. I’m sorry. About your parents, I mean.”
“Yeah, well . . .”
“I know this isn’t baseball camp, but when things are tough at home, isn’t it nice to just be away?”
Bobby smiled and shook his head.
She wasn’t sure if he was disagreeing or agreeing. She hoped he agreed.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
He agrees!
“I miss home a little, but I don’t know how much more of it I could’ve handled.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Slimey loved spending time with her mom, but sometimes it was hard to cheer her up when she wished she could crumble in her mom’s arms instead of her mom crumbling in hers. “Anyway, camp is weird. It might take a couple of days to like it, or sometimes it hits you when you’re home at the end of the summer, and you’re, like, ‘Wow, that was amazing. I’m reverse homesick—I’m camp-sick.’ And then you can’t stop thinking about it and feeling this very real feeling, you know?”
Bobby nodded. His eyes had a little bit of caramel in them, she noticed.
“I’m not saying it’s definitely gonna be like that for you, but maybe you’ll like it better than baseball camp, is all. ’Cause this place is a home away from home where you can forget about all that painful stuff and just be yourself with the people who, like, truly get—or at least truly want to get—who you are.”
“Huh. I guess I’d never thought of camp that way before. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Now that I’ve met you and stuff.”
Rick announced the next activity, but Slimey had no idea what he’d said. It could’ve been the egg toss, it could’ve been the shuttle run, it could’ve been anything, really. All Slimey could hear was her heartbeat, and all she saw was Bobby, chewing the inside of his cheek, blinking his brown-caramel eyes, and waiting patiently for her.
“I can . . . do you mind if I . . . ?” he asked softly, looking down.
“Sure,” Slimey answered quickly. Mind if you what?
Bobby bent down and tied the shoelace on Slimey’s left Chuck Taylor to the shoelace on his right Nike. He awkwardly showed her the crook of his elbow, and she slid her arm inside.
“On your mark, get set, go!” Rick bellowed.
The three-legged race began, and Bobby and Slimey weren’t in the lead—they were taking their time—but anyone could see they were perfectly in sync.
“The fact that they’re calling him Smelly is clearly a red flag,” Missi announced.
Slimey rolled her eyes and climbed to the top bunk. The girls had been gossiping about this summer’s “fresh meat” for twenty whole minutes, even though no one but Slimey had even talked to him. If his nickname was worthy of a red flag, then so was hers. Slimey plopped by Melman’s side and let her legs dangle over the edge.
“I noticed he was dressed like a flag, too. An American one, not just a red one,” Jenny joked.
Jamie cracked up so hard, she nearly choked. Melman gave Slimey a The J squad is still annoying as ever look and aimed her soccer ball to chuck at Jamie’s head. Slimey laughed into Melman’s sleeve to muffle the sound.
“Fivesies!” Jamie swooped up five jacks from the cabin floor. Her stringy hair hung over her face, and it was a wonder she could see the jacks at all.
“I have allergy meds if you’re feeling the aftermath,” Sophie offered Slimey, her eyes glued to her vampire book.
“I didn’t smell anything,” Slimey protested. “Except piña coladas.”
“So, he’s an alcoholic?” Jenny asked, smoothing her yellow bangs to the side of her forehead. “Like, it’s not bad if he’s tried alcohol, but if he needs it to have a good time at camp, then that’s a problem.”
Slimey answered Jenny with an exasperated sigh. She’d wanted to ask Melman what she thought of Bobby the whole walk back to Anita Hill, but Jenny hadn’t let up.
“What if I need hamburgers to have a good time at camp?” Melman asked in all seriousness. “Slimes, feel my monster.” Slimey felt Melman’s six-pack of a stomach. It rumbled
like crazy, even though Melman had just scarfed down a Milky Way at Canteen.
Jamie swooped up five more jacks. “Sixies!”
“I’m bored. Can you mess up already?” Jenny asked. “It’s been, like, five minutes.”
“She can’t mess up now—she’s almost at tensies!” Missi shrieked, pulling her chicken legs to her chest. “Go, Jamie, go! Before Sara calls Lights Out!”
“Ow! Missi, you’re hurting our ears,” Jenny complained. “Jamie, make her stop.”
“But her cheering helps me.”
“Missi, stop,” Jenny reprimanded.
Melman raised the soccer ball over her head, now targeting Jenny, and Slimey playfully smacked it down to Melman’s lap. She knew her best friend wasn’t actually going to throw the ball at the J-squad, but still, it would have been awkward if they’d seen her aiming. Melman nodded with approval—she liked to see Slimey use her reflexes.
“Well, he sounds kinda weird-sauce,” Missi warned Slimey, her eyes bulging.
“He’s not weird-sauce. He’s . . . nice.” Slimey looked to Melman for backup, but she was busy tossing the soccer ball at the ceiling. Boy talk bored her.
“Omigod, do you like him?” Jenny asked.
“Omigod, yeah, Slimey, do you want to go out with him?” Jamie asked.
“Omigod, yeah . . . ,” Missi followed awkwardly.
“What? I dunno. I mean, I just met him.” Slimey’s heart pounded just thinking about Bobby. But she wasn’t about to tell Jenny that. Or her sidekicks.
Slimey thought back to their One Tree Hill summer, which had been Jenny-free. It was awesome. They’d had giant Uno tournaments, and during Rest Hour they’d put their heads on each other’s tummies and played the laughing game. On the last night, they’d dreaded the thought of being apart so much, they’d all smushed into Melman’s bed at Lights Out. Slimey squeezed her eyes shut for a quick second and wished the six of them could become more like the five of them had been three years ago.
Slimey opened her eyes to Missi pointing at her cat poster. “There is such a thing as love at first sight. Like me and Buttercup Whiskers III.”
“Did you just compare Smelly to a cat?” Melman asked.
“He wishes.”
“Well, if you don’t like him, Slimey, then can Jamie ask him out?” Jenny asked.
Slimey’s heart stopped. “I mean . . . ,” she began.
“No one cares about any of this stuff but you, Jenny,” Melman said, tossing her soccer ball from hand to hand.
Slimey chewed the inside of her cheek, a little embarrassed. She wished she didn’t care—she’d never cared about this stuff any summer before—but she couldn’t help it with Bobby.
Jenny plowed on. “Um, it’s not every summer we get cute fresh meat in our age group, so I want to make sure.” She smiled expectantly, like she was waiting for her cabinmates to applaud her for being so sensitive. “Plus, Jamie is so pretty and so adorable and would be so good as a girlfriend.”
Slimey felt a kick of jealousy in her gut. She could tell that Melman was staring at her to share a Can you believe the J squad? smirk, but she thought it best to keep her eyes on Jenny. “Well, I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea. He just got here, and he’s going through a lot,” she said, trying to sound casual. She slid down from the edge of Melman’s top bunk to the floor.
“Going through a lot?” Jenny said. “If he’s struggling with alcohol and other stuff, then, omigod, hot-sauce, Jamie. He needs you. You have to do it.”
Slimey puffed out a breath in frustration, half wishing Melman had tossed the ball at their heads.
Jamie’s face emerged from her hair. “But none of us have ever been with any of the Rolling Hills guys. You think I should be first? What if he says no?”
“He won’t. We’ll make a plan. Omigod, it’ll be so much fun. He could be your Christopher.”
“Christopher!” Jamie sighed dreamily. “Have you heard from him yet?”
“Omigod, yeah, he texted me before dinner.” Jenny slid her cell phone out from her cubby. “Miss ya. Smiley face.”
“Omigod, that is so cute-sauce. You are so lucky your mom let you bring your celly.”
“I know!”
“Did someone say ‘cell phone’?” Sara grumbled from her bed, out of sight.
Slimey watched as Jenny shoved the phone back into her cubby and stuck her left hand into Jamie’s sock drawer. Sara pushed through the hanging beads that separated her Counselor Corner from the Camper Cabin and caught Jenny’s fingers fumbling through the socks.
“Je-nny . . . ,” she articulated, shoving her palm out expectantly.
Jenny grabbed hold of what was clearly a different cell phone and gave it over.
“I get fifty bucks for every one of these puppies I hand in to the Captain. So, I will find ALL of them. And I will read your texts over the PA and dramatize those emoticons so hard, you’ll be wishing cell phones were never invented.” She scanned the room. “Anyone else?” In the silence, Slimey watched Jenny pretend to sulk. “Lights Out in ten.” Sara stormed back to the Counselor Corner, shoving in the earbuds that were hanging around her neck. Jenny un-sulked.
“What’s up her butt?” Melman muttered.
“You wanna know?” Missi asked, the excitement hissing out of the gap between her two front teeth.
“What’s up her butt? Ew, no.” Jamie giggled.
Missi darted her eyes around to capture her audience. “Sara’s just mad because she only came back for Todd Bergman, who was supposed to come back, but then he dumped her AND didn’t come back.”
“They didn’t break up!” Jenny snapped at her. “Why would you say that?”
“My sister told me, you know, ’cause she and Todd’s sister are totally BFFs. Anyway, it’s . . . complicated.” Missi sighed theatrically.
Slimey peered in the direction of Sara’s area. Sara had been so understanding and cool last summer when everything took a turn for the worse. She could tell it wasn’t the right time to comfort her, but she wanted Sara to know she was there if Sara needed her. Not that Slimey knew what it felt like to be dumped. She imagined it hurt a lot, though. And she could relate to hurt.
Jenny collapsed dramatically onto her bed. “But Toddara is beautiful. They belong together!”
“ ‘Toddara’?” Melman looked at her funny.
“Todd-Sara mash-up. Duh.”
Missi squeezed next to Jenny on her bed. “OK, apparently he told the world he wasn’t coming back to camp via Facebook status, broke up with Sara via emoji—”
“Which emoji? I know them all.”
“Broken heart.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah, and he started hooking up with Jordana Tyne-Farnhorn.”
“The lifeguard who saved my life?!?” Jamie asked.
“Jordana didn’t save your life. She told you to stop breathing underwater,” Sophie corrected.
“Well, if she didn’t give me that advice, I probably would have drowned.”
“Omigod, Jamie, I just want to put you in my pocket, you are so cute!” Jenny reached out for her, and Jamie clutched her finger the way a baby would. Missi reached out for Jamie, too, and Jamie clasped Missi’s finger with her free hand.
Slimey had had enough of the J-squad for one day. She crawled into her bottom bunk and started to tape her pretty poster of melting crayons to the wall.
“Omigod, Jenny, I’m so sorry about your phone,” Jamie said.
“Omigod, it’s fine!!!” Jenny shouted loudly enough for Sara to hear. “I totally deserved it!!!!”
Slimey looked over her shoulder as Jenny slid her real phone out from her cubby. Jamie’s jaw dropped. “I gave her my old one—hid it in your sock drawer,” Jenny whispered.
“Omigod, you are a genius!” Jamie squealed.
“Shh!”
“You’re a genius,” she mouthed.
“It was my mom’s idea. So, what should I say back to Christopher?”
“LOL?”<
br />
Jenny held Jamie’s cheeks in her hands. “See? You’re so good. This is why we need to get you a boyfriend, stat.”
Slimey’s heart raced as she finished taping her poster to the wall. She scooted back and noticed it was upside down, so she tried to peel it off. It ripped in two.
“I know, but I just don’t like anyone right now.”
“You just said you were totally into the new kid.”
“I did?”
No, you didn’t! Slimey wanted so badly to scream.
“Why are you blocking your emotions so early in the relationship?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe I’m scared.”
“There’s no need to be scared. Having a boyfriend is amazing.”
Ow! Slimey knocked her head on the underside of Melman’s top bunk. A half-taped picture of a squawking Lois fell onto her comforter. She couldn’t tell what hurt more—her head, or the idea of a puppeteered Jamie stealing her crush. She decided it was the latter. By a lot.
Melman’s face appeared upside down over Slimey’s bed. “You OK?”
“What? Oh. Yeah . . .”
“Can you imagine, Slimes, if we were like that?” she whispered.
Slimey shook her head. She could never imagine being as in-your-face about everything as the J-squad.
“What do we need guys for when we have each other?”
Oh. Slimey’s heart somersaulted down to her belly. She loved having Melman as her camp sister/soul sister/BFF, and she didn’t need guys, sure, but . . . what if she wanted one?
Jamie’s whining interrupted Slimey’s train of worry. “I know, but Christopher’s perfect, and what if no one’s perfect for me?”
“What would be perfect is if you had a boyfriend. We could talk about them together! I’d be like, ‘Christopher looks hot today,’ and you’d be like, ‘Yeah, my boyfriend looks hot today, too.’ ”
“That’s a joke,” Melman said, shoving her wild, dirty-blond hair into a ponytail. “Don’t listen to Jenny, Jamie.”
“WHAT?” Jenny lashed out.
“Just ’cause Jenny has Chris—”
“Christopher,” Jenny corrected.
“—doesn’t mean you also need a boyfriend.”
Camp Rolling Hills Page 4