Camp Rolling Hills

by Stacy Davidowitz

  “On it. I’ll get Play Dough. He’s the one who planted Mr. Fatty.”

  “Who’s Mr. Fatty?” Sara asked.

  “The fish.”

  “Gross.”

  Slimey didn’t scrunch her nose in disgust like the rest of her cabinmates. Or join the squealing over Jenny’s slide show of pictures she’d taken of Sa-Rick mid-kiss on her phone. Instead, she flopped onto her bed to be alone with her thoughts. Before she’d met Bobby, she’d convinced herself it was easier to just keep all her pain locked up inside. There was no point in opening up. It would just hurt more. But she realized now that there are people who can offer more than awkward pats and I feel bad for you smiles, and when they do, you’re one step closer to having everything feel normal. She promised herself she’d never shut people out like Sara had almost done to Rick and she’d almost done to Bobby, because sometimes the ones you think are out to get you are really just trying to get you. Or . . . you know, kiss you.

  Play Dough stood grandly in the doorway of Anita Hill Cabin. “Now, as to the matter of our underwear . . .” Dover stood over their stockpile of stolen goods: Jenny’s dresses that Melman had “lent” them for Campstock, toiletries, clothes, and accessories.

  “Go. Find it. Now,” Rick commanded Play Dough.

  “I will dispose of the fish in exchange for—”

  “We’ll exchange. Just get the fish!” Sara cut him off, holding a pillow over her face to mask the smell.

  “No!” Dover protested. “I did not pull multiple all-nighters deciphering your clues, only to have you hand us the answer!”

  Slimey wondered what deciphering Dover could have possibly been up to—the clues had been getting weirder and weirder, especially Missi’s and Jamie’s, and they kind of made no sense.

  “Dude, the answer is our underwear,” Play Dough pleaded.

  “We can do this!” Dover shouted. “Don’t give up, Play Dough! Never give up!”

  “If you don’t want your underwear, that’s fine,” Sara said. “But we’re still keeping our stuff, and you’re still removing the fish.”

  “Sorry, dude. I gotta,” Play Dough said, taking a few dramatic steps toward the middle of the cabin, clearly enjoying the suspense. After a few turns, he stopped with his index finger pointing at Jenny’s bed. Jenny’s whole body stiffened with anger. Slimey was afraid she might grab Sophie’s EpiPen to jab him with.

  Play Dough brushed past Jenny to her bed, plopped down on his belly, and stretched his arm out as far as it would go. He pulled out the rotting Mr. Fatty. It was caked in dust bunnies. Jenny screamed as Play Dough obnoxiously paraded the slimy, smelly, lifeless fish through Anita Hill Cabin.

  “Last chance, Dover,” Rick said. “Smell yourself and then tell me you don’t want to know where your underwear is hidden.” Dover smelled himself and coughed. “And if that’s not enough to change your mind, I also want to remind you that as of now we San Juan Hillers have no leverage over the—”

  “Vive la guerre!” Dover shouted at the top of his lungs, his eyebrows twitching.

  “No underwear it is. All right, buddy, let’s get you some rest.” Rick pushed Dover out by his shoulders, leaving the girls’ stolen stuff behind.

  Enough is enough. Slimey didn’t care how stubborn Dover was—it was time the boy she liked smelled better than his nickname suggested. But before anything else, she had to talk to her soul sister. She slid her pink Chucks on, took Melman’s hand, and led her to the bathroom.

  “I went, like, ten minutes ago. I’m good,” Melman said, rubbing her belly.

  Slimey squeezed Melman’s hand. “I’m sorry. You’re my best friend, Melman. In the whole wide world. And in the beginning of the summer, I acted weird. I didn’t tell you I liked Bobby, because you think boyfriends are dumb, and—”

  “I don’t think boyfriends are dumb.”

  Slimey lowered her eyes in disbelief. “But you said we don’t need them.”

  “Yeah. We don’t.” Melman slid her hand from Slimey’s and picked her calluses for what felt like an eternity. And then, another eternity later, she said, “But you can still tell me stuff, Slimes. I want you to.”

  Slimey nodded apologetically. She thought about how if Melman had a boyfriend she was sharing Twix bars with and spending all her time with and telling personal stuff to, it would totally feel like little stabbing pins and needles of betrayal. Slimey wished she’d thought about that earlier.

  “But I’m glad you’re coming to me now,” Melman said, a few shades brighter. “Sorry. I should have been more supportive before. It’s just . . . you know.”

  Slimey did know—now, at least. She hated that she’d hurt Melman, and she would do just about anything to make this awkward conversation stop and never come back and for the two girls to be hugging and laughing and joking like normal. “I’m really sorry, Mel.”

  “It’s OK,” Melman said, slipping her hand back into Slimey’s. “And since the kid didn’t steal your dress and didn’t mean to be all like, ‘Go backstage with me now, woman!’ and he just really likes you and wants to kiss you, then—”

  “What?!”

  Melman gave Slimey the same mischievous eyebrows-up-and-down look that she’d given her and Bobby in the pool. Slimey shook her head and let out a chuckle of relief. Melman always seemed to know what Slimey was up to before she even said a word.

  “But, Slimes? Next time, tell me. If you like someone, I mean. I don’t like sharing you with someone I don’t know squat about. For all I know, he could be addicted to piña coladas.”

  The girls broke into laughter. “Deal,” Slimey said, flinging her arms around Melman and kissing her head over and over again.

  “Save it for Bobby!” Melman squealed. The girls fell to the sticky bathroom floor, all tangled up and giggling. “Go!” Melman cried, giving Slimey a nudge.

  “I’ll tell you everything as soon as I’m back—I promise!”

  “Maybe not everything . . . ,” Melman said, scrunching her nose in playful disgust.

  “Oh, it’ll be everything.” Slimey tapped her heart twice, and Melman did the same, before she hustled out the cabin door.

  “Oh, let’s face it, we’re never gonna find ’em,” Play Dough grumbled, peering aimlessly down the camp’s dirt road.

  “I don’t get it,” Steinberg said. “The girls offered to give us our underwear back, and you geniuses told them no?”

  “The boxers have to be around here somewhere,” Dover said maniacally, pulling himself out from under the Arts & Crafts porch. “We’re so close, I can smell ’em.”

  “You’re catching a whiff of yourself,” Wiener said. “You haven’t slept or showered in, like, a week.”

  “Dover’s right!” Totle did his stroking-an-invisible-beard thing. “We shouldn’t give up on our underwear. Our underwear would never give up on us!”

  “That is just not true,” Steinberg said with a groan, looking to Bobby for support.

  Bobby nodded halfheartedly. Ever since he and Slimey had made up with a kiss on the cheek, and everyone had started calling them boyfriend and girlfriend, he was having a hard time caring about the hunt.

  “Read the last clue, PD,” Dover said.

  Play Dough pulled a note from his shorts pocket and read:

  Look up, look down, look all around,

  Think where Picasso would chill.

  Are you hungry for a cheeseburger?

  Stay away from Forest Hill.

  “It’s obviously here!” Dover exclaimed.

  “I’m hungry for a cheeseburger,” Play Dough mumbled.

  “But not as hungry as I am for our underwear,” Totle said. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Aren’t we next to Forest Hill?” Bobby pitched in.

  “Exactly. Girls always say the opposite of what they mean,” Totle informed him.

  “Should we find cheeseburgers?” Play Dough asked.

  “I’m going back under,” Dover said, getting ready to dive below the Ar
ts & Crafts shack again. “Who’s with me?” Play Dough and Steinberg rolled their eyes as they knelt to the ground. Totle dropped into a push-up and rolled under.

  “You guys go ahead,” Wiener called after them. “Smelly and I are gonna take a look inside. Right, Smelly?”

  “Sounds good to me.” It did sound good to Bobby. Especially after Wiener had told him there was a family of hybrid skunk-chipmunks living underneath the porch. Skunk-munks he’d called them.

  “FOUND IT!” Dover cried in a muffled voice.

  “Our underwear?” Wiener asked. “You found our underwear?”

  “No, dude! Another clue!”

  “NOOOO!” Play Dough whined, crawling out from under the shack. “Enough with the clues! They go on forever and lead us nowhere!”

  “Chill out, PD!” Dover said, emerging behind him. “Just listen:

  This next adventure

  Is not one to miss

  Especially if you’re waiting

  For that special kiss.

  “Backstage!!!” Play Dough shouted, grinning proudly and shaking Dover by his shoulders. “I’ve never been so smart in my life!”

  “Dude, it’s not over till our underwear is back in our possession,” Steinberg said. “Let’s check it out.”

  The boys set out on the dirt road leading to the Social Hall. Bobby hoped this was the last stop, but he knew Steinberg was right. They’d gotten their hopes up again and again, only to return to San Juan Hill Cabin empty-handed. Suddenly, Bobby heard someone trailing behind them.

  “Hey, Bobby.” He stopped short and smiled. He could’ve recognized her shampooed-hair smell and cheery voice anywhere.

  He turned around, still smiling. “Hey, Slimey! What are you doing here?”

  “We’re about to find our underwear, woman!” Dover shouted. “And you can’t stop us!”

  “Oh, yeah? Where are you headed?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know!” Dover screamed before darting ahead, dust flying at his heels.

  “Good luck, Dover,” Slimey called out to him with a grin. “Can I talk to you in private for a sec, Bobby?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.”

  “You coming, Smellsky?” Play Dough called back to him.

  “Nah, go ahead. I’ll meet you guys after.” Bobby turned back to Slimey. “What’s up?”

  “Follow me.” She grabbed his hand and led him in the opposite direction as the guys. They walked together for what seemed like fifteen minutes, even though he knew it was probably only five. It was just that his palms were really sweaty. He was telling himself not to sweat so he could continue holding Slimey’s hand until she let go and not vice versa, but it was proving difficult. Especially as they walked up and down Sherri Hill and another hill Bobby couldn’t remember the name of, through a forest clearing, past the Gazebo, and up to Baseball Field 2. “Now, close your eyes,” she said softy, finally letting go.

  Bobby did as he was told, and Slimey led him onto the field, her arm linked inside his like that very first Evening Activity, during the three-legged race. His heart was pounding. Bobby had no idea what to expect except that whatever was coming was probably good, based on her commitment to sweaty hand-holding these last several minutes.

  “Do you know where we are?” she asked.

  “At the baseball field . . . ?”

  “But, like, more specifically?” A pause. “You can open your eyes if you want.”

  Bobby opened his eyes, and right in front of him was Slimey, with home plate in the distance. To his right was the pitcher’s mound. He smirked. “We’ve reached first base, haven’t we?”

  “That’s right,” she teased.

  Without thinking, without analyzing, without letting his nerves get to him first, Bobby leaned in to kiss her on the lips. She pulled back. Please don’t tell me I blew it again, he prayed. Please, please, please.

  Terrified, Bobby looked at her, hoping to find an answer. Hoping that answer was not another rejection. But there she was, looking back at him, smiling, her eyes sparkling. He could tell she was waiting for him to say something. Do something. Should I try again? he wondered. Is Slimey flirting with me? Is this what flirting looks like?

  “First base stinks!” he said, attempting to flirt back but regretting it as soon as he said it.

  She gave him a knowing nod. “It dooooes, doesn’t it?”

  Something about the slow, deliberate way she said it made him think she was talking about something other than the two of them. Bobby chewed his bottom lip. “Our underwear! Is it buried under first base?”

  She recited the last clue: “This next adventure is not one to miss. Especially if you’re waiting for that special kiss.”

  “Does that mean yes?”

  Slimey leaned in and kissed Bobby on the mouth. It lasted less than three seconds, but that was still enough time for him to taste her sweet-mint-gum-and-pizza breath and make his lips buzz with excitement. She pulled away slowly, their eyes opening and locking.

  “There’s a shovel by the bleachers, and I was never here,” she whispered into his ear before running off, leaving him stunned after his first non-cheek kiss.

  Bobby watched her go until she was out of sight, then skipped around first base like it was his fifth, sixth, seventh . . . heck, every great birthday he’d ever had, and he’d just consumed every inch of icing off the cake. He grabbed the shovel, raised it over his head, let out a manly howl, and got to work.

  Bobby took a deep breath and brought the megaphone to his face. “Attention, Boys’ Side. I have a very important announcement to make. The announcement you’ve all been waiting for. Gather round, gather round!” Bobby couldn’t help grinning as his confused cabinmates emerged. They’d followed his voice to the Boys’ Side Flagpole, where a crowd of male campers from Bunker Hill and Wawel Hill and every Hill cabin in between were already standing around with anticipation. He watched his cabinmates follow the other campers’ gaze to the tip-top of the pole, where there was no flag, just Bobby, suspended in the air by his pants loop, spackled from forehead to ankles in dirt, megaphone in one hand, two pillowcases in the other.

  “Is that what I think it is?!” Totle asked.

  Bobby held up the pillowcases excitedly. Totle performed his victory dance.

  “You found my high-thread-count Egyptian-cotton pillowcase!” Wiener shouted with relief.

  “Well, that’s not all,” Bobby said through the megaphone. For the first time ever, his heart was racing with a different kind of anticipation, a kind he could get used to.

  Totle took a second. “You got another fish?” he shouted up.

  “No. I got this.” In what felt like action-movie slow-mo, Bobby dumped the contents of the pillowcases onto the crowd of cheering, gagging boys and their counselors.

  The San Juan Hill boys jumped up and down and onto one another with glee as they grabbed their hazardous boxers raining from the sky. TJ had stuck around after helping Bobby and was standing at the foot of the pole, arms crossed, hands in his armpits, grinning proudly.

  “Oh, sweet, sweet undies, I thought I’d lost you forever,” Steinberg mumbled to himself, collecting his favorite argyle pair.

  “Where’d you find ’em?” Dover called up to Bobby, his eyelids and eyebrows twitching out of sync. “One Tree Hill Cabin?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Bobby said.

  “I KNEW IT!” Dover paced around the pole. “We eat our picnic lunch by the picnic benches, which were originally outside Notting Hill Cabin, which is situated diagonally next to Tyler Hill Cabin, which sort of hangs over Two Tree Hill Cabin, which is the rebuilt cabin after the original One Tree Hill Cabin got burned down by an untended hair dryer in 1974!”

  Steinberg cocked his head. “Dude, get some REM-cycle—”

  “My logic, exactly,” Bobby said into the megaphone.

  Dover gave a twitchy smile.

  “Good work, Sergeant Smelly,” Play Dough shouted up. “Now what?”

  With all the excitement, Bobby
forgot how much pain he was in. “Can you get me down? This is starting to feel like a wedgie.”

  TJ lowered Bobby from the top of the flagpole, and once he was unhooked, all his cabinmates attacked him with fist bumps, high fives, and hugs. It didn’t feel like the attack of enthusiasm he’d suffered on day one. It felt superhero amazing.

  “I’ve gotta hand it to you,” Play Dough said. “I never would’ve thought it, but you’ve found the weirdest way to make camp history.”

  “Yeah, well, I couldn’t have done it without you guys. In the beginning of the summer, you couldn’t pay me off in World Series tickets to do something like this.”

  “So, how do you feel?” Totle asked, wearing his pillowcase as a bandana.

  Bobby took a deep breath. “Crazy! Plus, my butt crack hurts.”

  The guys doubled over with laughter.

  “Residual pain from a wedgie lasts no more than forty-eight hours,” Steinberg assured him, stretching his hand out for a shake. “You’re a cool guy, Smelly.”

  Bobby felt his chest expand. “Right back atcha, Steinberg.” They shook. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to tell Keith and Jake about this.”

  “Who?” Play Dough asked.

  “My best friends from home. They’ll think this is hilarious.”

  “No, they won’t,” Steinberg said. “If you explain this to anyone at home, you’ll sound super-lame.”

  “Super-lame? How?”

  “Let’s start with your nickname.”

  Bobby let out a laugh. “True.”

  “And what did you do, exactly, that you’re so proud of?” Steinberg asked.

  “I dug up a pillowcase of dirty underwear that the girls stole from us!” Bobby said proudly.

  “See my point?”

  “Oh. Yeah, it’s weird.”

  Steinberg put his arm around Bobby. “Yup. We’re all a bunch of really cool weirdos.”

  Bobby looked at him, nodded appreciatively, and put his arm around Steinberg.

  “Group hug?” Totle proposed, picking Steinberg up via a wedgie.

  “Hey! Ow!” he laughed.