Camp Rolling Hills

by Stacy Davidowitz

  Totle bowed to Bobby. “For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my toes.”

  “Why would I kiss her toes?” Bobby asked.

  “It’s very dark back there. You might not be able to see.”

  “Totle!” Play Dough shouted. “We’re trying to explain how much we WANT Smelly to go backstage.”

  “Oh. Yeah, dude. It’s awesome.”

  “So you’ve gone backstage?”

  “By myself, yeah.”

  Play Dough shook his head with frustration. “Look, if you do this, you will be THE MAN. No one in San Juan has gone to first base yet, and we need you to so we can grill you for advice when it’s our turn.”

  “Yeah, it would be sick, dude,” Totle said. “You do it, you tell me everything play-by-play, and I’ll record it all in my journal.”

  Bobby didn’t want to be the star of Totle’s diary. Especially since Play Dough had been doing dramatic readings of it at night once Totle fell asleep.

  Dover started to pace. “You’re about to go down in history with generations of campers who have made out backstage. What a thrill. I wanna be in your shoes. Can I watch?”

  Play Dough jumped in before Bobby could answer. “No! Stop creepifying this special moment for Smelly.”

  “I almost went backstage with Melman,” Wiener bragged to Play Dough.

  “No you didn’t.”

  “I’ve dreamt about it.”

  Play Dough ignored him, turned to Bobby, and held his shoulders. “Listen, Smelly. You wanna be the most respected, heroic camper in all of Rolling Hills?”

  Bobby thought about it. After finding out about his dad splitting, Bobby had done everything he could to follow Slimey’s advice to leave his problems at home, look on the bright side, and be himself around his new camp family. Even though he’d thought at the time that Rick was just doing his counselor duty when he said the San Juan Hill guys were cool once you got to know them, it turned out that he was on to something. And now that Bobby had actually made new friends, he figured being the MOST ballin’ Rolling Hiller would be nice. “I guess.”

  “ ‘I guess’?” Play Dough asked, as if Bobby had poured salt into his picked knee scab.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “You do, what?”

  “I want to be the most respected, heroic camper in all of Rolling Hills.”

  “Louder!”

  “I want to be the most respected, heroic camper in all of Rolling Hills!”

  “That’s what I want to hear!” Play Dough held Bobby’s arm up. “Isn’t that right, guys? If you were Smelly, you would do it and do us proud?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “So do it for me. Do it for you! Do it for San Juan Hill!!!”

  The San Juan Hill boys let out a big cheer, and Bobby was in the hot spot. But for the first time ever, he didn’t feel embarrassed or panicked or anxious at all. He was about to get everything he wanted: approval from his new friends, a cool reputation, and taking what he had with Slimey to the next level. His heart beat fast with anticipation, but it was a good beat, a beat that was in sync with the music. A beat that told him this summer was about to get awesome real fast. “OK. OK, yeah, I can do this!”

  “Sauce!” Play Dough cheered. “Now, remember the signal?”

  “You never told me the signal.”

  “When the slow song starts.”

  “OK.”

  “So, what’s the signal?”

  “When the slow song starts.”

  “You got it. All right, here we go. Stay with me.” Play Dough pushed his way through the packed crowd of twisting and jumping and clapping and hand-waving campers, closer to the Anita Hill girls, a few feet from the stage.

  Bobby followed, stealthily dodging Hula-Hoops, glow sticks, and punch spillage. He checked himself for sweat stains. Present. He pretended to fix the cape, but really he just pinched his shirt under the armpits to give them some air.

  Play Dough caught him. “Dude, let it go.”

  Bobby put his hands down by his sides.

  “Now, dance normal.” Play Dough bopped his head in all directions and raised his eyebrows at Jenny a few feet away. She mouthed something at him—Bobby didn’t know what—then twisted and turned with Jamie in her grasp.

  Bobby swayed nervously, then settled on a step-touch move with a few snaps. The snaps were dumb. He turned his hands to karate fists and twisted his torso. He stopped that, too, and nodded his head the way Play Dough was doing, plus bounced his knees. He was close enough to Slimey to say hi but far enough away to pretend he hadn’t seen her yet.

  Play Dough stepped close to him. “Don’t stop what you’re doing, dude. I’m gonna make sure the music’s set.”

  “OK,” Bobby said, continuing his head nods.

  Play Dough brushed past him and lifted himself onto the stage belly-first, kicking his legs hard for momentum. He whispered into Steinberg’s ear, and Steinberg nodded and looked out into the crowd.

  Bobby averted his eyes, not wanting to call even more attention to himself and what he was about to do. He looked down and noticed Slimey’s silver flats. They sparkled. Bobby inched closer and closer until he was near enough to smell her perfume. It was peach and rose petals. He waved, since he was too close to pretend he didn’t see her anymore, and he definitely didn’t want her to think he was being a jerk by avoiding her, but she seemed preoccupied with Melman.

  “I can’t believe you wore shorts to the Midsummer Dance,” Slimey yelled over the music.

  “What? I left my hat in the bunk. You’re saying I should have spent two hours getting ready, like the J-squad?”

  “I’m saying, you didn’t have to wear your soccer cleats.”

  “Why? They support my feet and elevate me, like, half an inch. I’m practically wearing heels.”

  “Don’t you want the boys to ask you to dance?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Slimes, one will.”

  Bobby followed Melman’s gaze to Wiener, who was grinning stupidly at her, pointing to the dandelion he’d Scotch-taped to his shirt. The girls giggled. Melman shook her head. Bobby glanced at Slimey, arm in arm with Melman, glowing. She caught him looking at her, and before he could even give her the chance to say hi, he looked down, then back up to Play Dough and Steinberg onstage. Play Dough gave a thumbs-up. This was the moment.

  “Slow song!” Steinberg and Play Dough sang-shouted together as the music shifted to a soft piano solo. The colored lights went dark, and only the disco ball remained. There was no fog, there was no screaming, there was no pumping and jumping and waving. To Bobby, it was just him and Slimey and no one else. His heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was going to fall out of his chest. Time seemed to stand still as he clenched and unclenched his fists, then wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

  “Hey, Melman, wanna dance?” he heard Wiener ask, trying to sound smooth.

  “Why are you walking like that?”

  “Oh, I didn’t notice,” he said, dropping the swagger.

  Melman nudged Slimey. “See? All right, let’s get this over with.” She extended her arms out to Wiener.

  He put his arms around her waist, and she collapsed hers on his shoulders. Wiener looked at Melman, towering at least six inches above him, and smiled the widest Bobby had ever seen him smile.

  “You just can’t wait to brag about this, can you?” she said.

  “I don’t need to brag. Everyone can see the magic that’s happening here.”

  She slapped the side of his head playfully.

  Bobby looked over at Slimey, who was twiddling her thumbs, her smile at Melman and Wiener fading with every second. He looked at Play Dough onstage, who was waving at him with great urgency. Bobby breathed in quick, sharp breaths. He just wanted to get this over with—rip it off like a Band-Aid. Then he could either go bury himself in his duffel again if she said no, or enjoy being the luckiest guy in the world if she
said yes.

  The first chorus was coming, and the clock was ticking. This song couldn’t be more than three and a half minutes long, and he guessed a whole minute had already played, leaving him only two and a half minutes to complete the mission.

  All he had to do was ask her. It was a simple question, really. Will you ask me to dance? I mean, will I ask—? Will you dance with my body? I mean . . . ugh! Can you—? You look pretty tonight, Slimey. I mean, you always look pretty. Wanna dance? I’ve got moves. I’ve got—No! I have no moves. I don’t move. I’ll sway. Please. Just dance with me. I’m begging you, not begging you, but asking, please, will you do me the honor? What am I, British? Ahhh! Slimey, dance-dance? Bobby was sure he was going to die.

  He couldn’t look in the direction of the stage, but even from the corner of his eye he could tell that Play Dough was gesturing at him like a madman. He couldn’t believe how confident he’d been on the opposite side of the Social Hall. He had no idea what had happened since. No more thinking, he thought. Do it. Do it. Do it!

  Bobby stepped toward Slimey, one foot in front of the other. The next thing he saw was Jenny pushing Jamie in front of Slimey. Jamie struck a pose with her hands on her hips.

  “What are you doing, Jamie?” Slimey asked.

  “Phase Three. Omigod.”

  Bobby had no idea what was going on. He looked at Play Dough one last time. Play Dough pushed his palms out from his chest. Does he want me to push her? Bobby wondered. Maybe it was like a human obstacle course—he had to fight through the other girls to get to Slimey. Prove his . . . He didn’t know.

  Jamie blinked her eyes all weird and smiled at him. “Hello, Bobert.”

  Even though she was acting strange, and no one called him that unless they were making fun of him, Bobby didn’t have time to defend himself, so he just smiled politely. “Excuse me,” he said. Then he took a deep breath, pushed past Jamie, and let it out. “Hey, Slimey, do you wanna dance?”

  “Of course I— Wait, whaaat?” Jamie squealed.

  “Whaaat? No! PLAY DOUGH!!” Jenny yelled.

  “Oops,” Play Dough said, hauling himself offstage to meet them.

  Jenny extended her arms to Jamie. “Are you OK?”

  “Yeah . . . ,” Jamie mumbled sadly, falling into Jenny’s embrace.

  “I’m gonna take care of this for you,” Jenny assured her. “Chicks before boys!”

  What happened? What did I do wrong? Is she going to say no?!?

  “Sure, I’ll dance with you,” Slimey responded sweetly.

  “Really?” He sighed with relief. “Cool!” Best. Night. Ever. Bobby stepped in close-ish, leaving about eight inches between them, and put his hands on her waist like he’d seen Wiener do with Melman. She put her hands on his shoulders. After a few seconds she put some weight on Bobby’s left shoulder and then right. “I think we need to . . .”

  “Oh! Yeah . . .” Dance, Bobby, he reminded himself. You can’t just stand there, staring at her. He stepped to the left, then to the right, then to the left, then to the right. Got a good sway going. He decided Slimey looked even prettier up close. Her eyes had a shimmer to them, and her smile was shy. Bobby smiled back at her for the first time tonight, and her lips opened, exposing her teeth, which were adorably crooked, pre-braces. They moved together in sync, in perfect rhythm, even more perfect than during the three-legged race. They got a little closer with each sway. There was probably five inches between them now.

  Bobby looked over at Play Dough, who was now on the dance floor, and gave him a reassuring nod that everything was great (it was more than great!), but Play Dough didn’t seem to notice. His full attention was on Jenny, with her sharp gestures, violent head-shaking, and scary-sounding whispers. Play Dough mumbled some defensive apologies in return.

  Bobby wondered what the problem was. After all, he was dancing with Slimey. Their plan was working! It crossed his mind that maybe they needed him to ask her backstage sooner than he thought. Perhaps that was why Jamie had just hurried to the side, sulking. Bobby thought she’d done a good job, too— being the obstacle course or whatever. There was no reason for anyone to be upset!

  “Are you OK?” Slimey asked.

  “Oh. Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool.” Bobby half smiled. He thought about dipping her to really prove the point that he was fine and having an awesome time, but he didn’t want to drop her—she’d never go backstage with him if that happened—so they continued swaying back and forth.

  Slimey giggled. “Look at Rick!”

  Bobby looked over his shoulder. Rick was circling Sara, dancing like a zombie robot. “Oh, yeah!”

  Sara pushed Rick off and moved to a group of female counselors dancing together. “I wish she had someone special who could make her laugh,” Slimey said.

  “Uh . . . yeah, me, too.” Bobby wondered if he made Slimey laugh and if he should try to make her laugh now.

  “Sara was really upset at the beginning of the summer because her boyfriend dumped her, but now she’s halfway back to her old self. She’s, like, letting herself have fun with her friends even though she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Oh. Nice.” He wasn’t sure why they were talking about their counselors.

  “Sophie and Totle are dancing, too,” Slimey said.

  Bobby looked to his right at Sophie hugging Totle tightly as he tried to squirm out of her grip. It looked more like torture than dancing.

  “Is he into vampires?” Slimey asked.

  “What?”

  “Totle.”

  “Um. He likes sports.”

  “Oh.”

  Now Bobby was confused about why Slimey was asking about Totle. Did she like him, too? Was she just dancing with him to find out if Totle liked her? Did Slimey like vampires? “I like vampires,” he blurted out.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” Bobby floundered for a topic to avoid getting caught in his stupid lie. “Oh, look at Dover and Missi!”

  Dover shook his shoulders at Missi while she made cat noises.

  Slimey laughed. “That’s so funny! Missi can be really funny sometimes.”

  “Dover, too.” Bobby chuckled, thinking about how many cabinmates they had left to talk about before they ran out of things to say. It wasn’t that he and Slimey normally had trouble talking to each other, but it wasn’t every day that he was this nervous. It was a miracle he was able to speak at all.

  Bobby looked at Play Dough again. Now Jenny had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. It looked really sweet, until Bobby realized she was just using the slow dance as a chance to keep angrily whispering into his ear. Play Dough gave Bobby a thumbs-up behind her back. It must be time for the next step. He looked at Slimey, her head cocked in Jamie’s direction. She looked concerned. He’d better do this fast. “So, Slimey . . .”

  “Is she OK, you think?”

  “Um . . . yeah. She’s fine. So, look, would you—?”

  “She doesn’t seem fine.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess.”

  “I should check on her.”

  “Oh. Wait! Slimey, would you like to, um, go backstage . . . ?”

  “What?” She took her hands off Bobby’s shoulders.

  “Backstage. Would you like—?”

  “I heard what you said. I’m just . . .” Slimey removed his hands from her waist.

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for . . . backstage. I mean, we’re not even boyfriend and girlfriend yet.”

  “Well, OK.” Bobby felt like an idiot. What had he been thinking? Did he really expect her to go backstage with him when they weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend? Unless . . . “Do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend?” No! He was supposed to apologize, not ask her out! Say you were kidding. “Sorry, I was just—”

  “Sure.”

  Sure? Sure! Yes! Ask her backstage! “Good. So, then, we can go backstage?”

  “I dunno. That’s a big step, don’t you th
ink?”

  “But Play Dough said you wanted to.” Bobby turned to Play Dough anxiously. “Right? You said we should go backstage?”

  “Oh. Dude. Plan sort of . . . ,” Play Dough sputtered.

  “Bobby! Are you asking me, or are you asking Play Dough?”

  “You, of course! It’s just that I like you, Slimey, and—”

  “I like you, too. But what’s the rush?”

  “Well, I think it’s part of The Plan . . . and this is our chance of the summer.”

  “What plan?”

  “Phase Three.”

  Slimey took a step back and put a hand out to keep him from getting any closer. “I’m not part of some plan, Bobby! If we like each other, it’s between us, not Play Dough or anyone else. I’m not like that, and I thought you weren’t, either!” Slimey stormed past him and grabbed Melman right from Wiener’s grasp. “I should have listened to you, Melman—we don’t need guys. And whoever said it was right. Smelly is a red flag!”

  All the Anita Hill girls and the San Juan Hill guys looked Bobby’s way.

  Bobby’s face turned beet red. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Without answering, Slimey speed-walked to the back of the Social Hall, dragging Melman with her. As they whispered, Melman tossed a glare or two at Bobby over her shoulder.

  Bobby followed Slimey with his eyes until she was out of the Social Hall. He felt a stabbing pain in his heart.

  Play Dough laid a heavy hand on Bobby’s head and tousled his hair. “What happened? You were so close!”

  The pain spread through Bobby’s body like a virus, eating at his patience and feeding his anger. “What happened is, you ruined it! It was none of your business, and I should never have listened to you!”

  Wiener shoved himself between Play Dough and Bobby. “Thanks a lot, Smelly. The song’s not even over, and Melman’s gone!”

  “Blame Play Dough. He’s the one who pushed me to do it!”

  “Not with Slimey.”

  “You gave me a thumbs-up!”

  “ ’Cause I was dancing with Jenny!”

  “Ugh, you guys are idiots!” Jenny screeched impatiently. She wobbled over in her high heels to Jamie. “I’m sorry, Jamie. Boys are dumb.” She pulled her in for a hug. “Especially Smelly.”