by Una LaMarche
A few minutes later they sat down. “To reunions,” he said, knocking his bug juice back like a shot.
Emma looked across at Adam. He’d grown into his looks, too. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had changed, but he was definitely more handsome. She wished she could tell what was running through his mind. Her own inner monologue went something along the lines of, So, about that night three years ago, when I turned away instead of kissing you? That was a mistake. I was dying to hook up with you, but I was nervous about what that meant for our friendship. I lost my nerve and I ran away and I’ve regretted it ever since, so with that said, how do you feel about trying again, and maybe, I don’t know, deflowering me by moonlight someplace?
Out loud, she said, “So you’re a counselor now. What’s that like?” He laughed through a mouthful of bread.
“Um, it’s basically exactly like being a camper, only I get to be lazier. And I get paid.”
“Sounds like a good deal.”
“It is,” he said. “Only . . . I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m really bad at it.”
“What?” She was genuinely surprised. “I bet you’re great with little kids.”
“I’m good with the kids, I’m just not good with responsibility.”
“Example, please.”
“Okay . . . for one thing, I have to keep dozens of tiny humans alive in the wilderness for weeks at a time.” She laughed. “But seriously, I can’t wake up on time, like, ever. A bunch of ten-year-olds have to do that stupid omki thing to me.”
“You and Skylar both,” she said.
“Yeah, she and I are not the poster children for respected authority figures.”
“Well, waking up late doesn’t sound so bad . . .”
“What about leaving my wallet in the woods next to an empty six pack?”
“You did not.”
“Which some of the thirteens found during a hike.”
“NO!”
“Yes. But in my defense, it was very dark and I was intoxicated.”
“Adam!” She flicked a bean at him. Emma wasn’t really surprised, but their sporadic late-night G-chats had made her think he’d grown up at least a little bit in the three years since she’d left. He sighed.
“It’s just not my thing, you know that.”
“What, accountability?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“That sounds like an excuse to do whatever you want and never have to feel guilty about it.”
He looked at her seriously for a second and then broke into a grin.
“Damn, I missed you,” he said, like he was only just realizing it, at that moment. She knew it was a cliché, but suddenly Emma felt like the only person in the room. Everything else blurred to a watercolor.
“I missed you, too.”
“You don’t let me get away with anything.”
“Yes, I’m an excellent hall monitor,” she quipped. “It’s one of my gifts.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. He paused, looking down at his plate like he was trying to phrase whatever came next. “Why didn’t you ever come visit camp?”
It was a rare vulnerable moment; he seemed genuinely sad. Emma decided to take advantage of whatever brief window she had before he started shielding himself with jokes again and tell him the truth.
“Honestly, I wanted to,” she said slowly, taking a deep breath. “But I felt . . . awkward. I got rejected . . .”
“What?” His eyes widened. “I didn’t reject you. In case you don’t remember, I actually tried to—”
“Not you!” she said, cutting him off. So much for being brave, Emma thought. But she wasn’t ready to talk about the last night of camp. Not yet. “I meant Mack. I applied to be a counselor, and I got rejected.” Adam looked confused.
“Wait, I thought you said you got some internship at an asbestos company.”
Emma laughed. “An asbestos litigation firm,” she said. “And I did, but only because I didn’t get in here.”
“You could have told me.”
“I was embarrassed. It sucked.”
“I’ve told you embarrassing things,” he said, crossing his arms.
“Getting pantsed in second grade and having everyone see your Superman undies isn’t the same as experiencing professional rejection.”
“They were Batman,” he corrected. “Anyway, I’m just saying, you could have told me.” He pushed his plate away and shook his head. He looked angry. “If I had known you’d wanted to come back . . .”
“It wouldn’t change anything,” she said softly.
“Maybe it would.” He looked at her helplessly.
Emma was formulating a reply when she saw Skylar making a beeline for the table, with Maddie and Jo following close behind.
“What happened to you?” Skylar asked, looking back and forth from Emma to Adam. “I thought you were waiting for us.”
“It’s my fault,” Adam said. “I abducted her outside the barn.”
“I tried texting,” Emma lied. Adam raised his eyebrows.
“No biggie,” Jo said. “Save us seats while we get food?”
“Sure,” Adam said. Or, that’s what he was saying when a cube of Jell-O hit him in the jaw with a wet smack. Maddie exploded in nervous laughter, and Skylar jumped back, wiping the neon green shrapnel off her shirt. They all looked over to see Nate standing at the dessert table and doubled over.
“Dude!” Adam stood up and wiped the green goo off his lips. He picked up his cornbread and lobbed it across the room, narrowly missing Nate’s groin. “You are so . . .” He looked at the girls apologetically. “Sorry, I have to go hurt someone,” he said, and sprinted after Nate, who was now pelting Adam with grapes.
“You’re cleaning all of that up!” Jo shouted, following him back to the buffet.
“I really am sorry,” Emma said to Skylar. “He just showed up, and I didn’t know how to explain where you guys were.”
Sklyar sat down, grabbing a corn chip off Emma’s plate. “It’s fine,” she said. “I just thought you said you’d outgrown the whole Adam obsession.”
“I am not obsessed.” Emma felt her cheeks get red. “He’s my friend.”
“I get it,” Maddie said. “Charlie was my Adam. You never really get over your first love.”
“Except they were never together,” Skylar pointed out.
“And I don’t love him,” Emma whispered.
“Well, I’d be careful if I were you,” Skylar warned, popping another chip into her mouth. “He still has a very short attention span.”
Emma concentrated on drinking her bug juice, not sure what to say to that. Was Skylar just punishing Emma for ditching her for Adam, or was she actually trying to be protective? What had gone on during the past three summers? The uncomfortable thought dawned on Emma that maybe there were no second chances. Maybe too much had changed.
Skylar
Reunion: Day 1
SKYLAR PULLED THE COVERS UP OVER HER HEAD. It had been a long time since she’d been in one of the bunk beds—now she was used to having her own queen-sized counselor’s nest—and her five-foot ten-inch frame felt comically large stretched out on the little twin mattress. She pressed her hands up against the low beams of the ceiling, creating a one-person blanket fort, and the sun shone through the sheets in hazy orange squares. They’d just come back from dinner, and Skylar was feeling oddly jealous. How had Adam and Emma ended up at dinner together? Why were they both suddenly acting like she wasn’t even there?
Crushes, Skylar knew, were called crushes for a reason. She still got sad when she thought about the awful things Zeke Tanner had said to her on the shore the last night of camp. But aside from him—and now, Adam—Skylar had always been the crushee, not the crusher. Not that she never liked anyone—it was just that they always liked her back more
. But as she’d said in her embarrassing display during never have I ever, she had never, to her knowledge, truly been loved. Then again, she’d never loved anyone either. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance.
“Crap! Is it supposed to rain?” Maddie leaped up from the bottom bunk, where she’d been tweezing her eyebrows, and stuck her arm out the open door.
“Nah, it’ll blow over,” Jo said. “It might be a little cold, though, so bring sweatshirts.”
“What you see is what I got.” Maddie spun like a runway model and gestured to her tank top and thin cotton capris. “Thank you, Southwest Airlines!”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Emma said, tossing Maddie a denim jacket.
“I have a bolero if that’s more your style,” Sunny Sherman chirped from across the cabin. Skylar, Jo, Emma, and Maddie exchanged eye rolls—no small feat from four separate bunks.
“Seriously, you couldn’t pull strings to get us our own place?” Maddie said to Jo through clenched teeth. Skylar snorted into her pillow.
Jo put a finger to her lips. “It was this or twenty-two-year-olds,” she whispered.
Emma made a face. “God, I hope I have better things to do when I’m twenty-two than go to a camp reunion.”
“Hey!” Jo said. “Watch your mouth.”
“Sorry, I just mean—we’ll be in college. We’ll be able to live on our own, go wherever we want . . .”
“And drink!” Maddie piped up.
“Right, and drink!” Emma said. “So why would we want to hang out someplace where booze is forbidden and everyone else is underage?”
“Hold that thought,” Skylar said. She had an excellent idea to get the evening back on track. She swung her legs over the side of her bunk, jumped down, and strolled casually across the room. “Hey, girls,” she said conspiratorially as she approached the other set of beds. Sunny and Kerry looked up from the Us Weekly they were paging through. Aileen put down her book on colonic therapy, and Jess turned down the volume on the game she was playing on her phone. Skylar lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in. “So, some of the guys went into town earlier on a beer run. I can’t go right now because of Jo”—she made a face and the girls nodded sympathetically—“but you guys should totally head down to the shore early. I don’t know about you, but I can’t be sober for the sing-along or I might die of shame.”
Sunny nodded. “Totally,” she said. “Want me to grab something for you? I can keep it in my purse.” Sunny carried one of those enormous leather satchels that looked like Mary Poppins’s carpet bag but which probably cost more than some people’s cars. Skylar wasn’t even sure that someone actually was down at the shore manning the stash, but, in the words of her tenth grade drama teacher, she committed to the scene.
“Yeah, one of those light beers, the sixty-four-calorie ones.” She flashed an impish grin. “Don’t have too much fun without me!” She turned and crossed back to her own side, and the others watched gleefully as the Sunny Sherman section of the cabin cleared out.
“Slow clap, Sky,” Maddie marveled. “That was beautiful.”
“What did you say?” Jo asked excitedly. “Please tell me you sent them to the HoJos down the road.”
“I wish,” Skylar said. “But they should be occupied for a while. And now that they’re gone, we can safely reminisce without the threat of judgment.” She dug in her trunk and fished out the Camp Nedoba yearbook. It wasn’t technically a yearbook, just a stapled sheaf of photocopied collages Mack put together, but campers traded and signed them at the end of the summer, just like at school.
“Oh man, I forgot about those!” Emma said, taking the yearbook from Skylar and examining the cover, which was a group shot of the entire Camp Nedoba population. Gus took it every year by standing on the roof of the barn.
“There we are!” Maddie cried, pointing to a row of tiny faces near the back.
“Ha!” Jo said, leaning in. “Look how short I was.”
“Look at my hair,” Emma said. “Why didn’t anyone tell me it looked like that?”
“Because we hate you,” Skylar joked. She looked at Emma’s shiny grown-up mane and flattering fitted clothes, thinking of all the times she’d shown Emma how to flat-iron her hair and coordinate her outfits. Of course she didn’t want Emma to look bad, but had she unwittingly created a monster?
“Look!” Emma said. “I wrote you something.” She squinted at the tiny print. “Dearest Sky,” she read, “I am going to miss you so much! It’s our last entrance! Leading songs, making s’mores, breaking hearts. So much to say, so little time. Wish me luck tonight. Summer of No Excuses!! Haha. :) Can’t wait to be a CIT with you, M & J next summer. JEMS ’til the end. Love, Emma.” She looked up with a smirk. “Well, I was always a wordsmith.”
Skylar studied Emma’s face for signs of Adam-related pain. Clearly, the message had been written the morning before the end-of-camp bonfire.
“Let me see,” Jo said, reaching for the yearbook. She paged through it, stopping short when she got to a photo of Nate and Adam standing on the basketball court with their arms around each other. “Oh wow,” Jo said. “Nate was big.” Adam looked even scrawnier next to his round friend. He was smiling his lopsided smile and winking. So typical, Skylar thought. Adam was even capable of flirting from a grainy photocopy. Too late, Skylar noticed that Adam had scrawled a message in sloppy block print next to his own face.
“Hey S,” Jo read. “Been cool getting to know you more this year. Stay beautiful, Adam. P.S. You’re not flat anymore and I’m sure you need a bra. LOL Don’t hit me.”
“What?!” Maddie laughed.
“Oh,” Skylar said, “remember that time he told the whole cafeteria—”
“No, I meant the ‘stay beautiful’ sign-off. Who says that?”
“Adam does,” Emma sighed. “To some people, anyway. To me, I think he wrote ‘Keep being awesome.’” She frowned and looked down at her hands. There it was, Skylar thought. Proof positive that Emma wasn’t over Adam.
“Wait, who wrote this?” Jo asked. “You are an artwork. A Botticelli beauty. A sculptor’s muse. Mine.” Skylar covered her hands with her face and groaned with shame. Why hadn’t she read the yearbook before parading it around?
“That is creepy as hell,” Maddie said.
“It was Zeke,” Skylar said.
“It sounds like a ransom note,” Emma said.
“It was a haiku. That’s why it’s so short.”
“Still,” Maddie said. “Yikes.”
It made Skylar feel a little better to realize that Zeke had in fact been a pretentious idiot, but something about the words he’d chosen for his poem really rubbed her the wrong way. Did all guys think she was just some object to be looked at, like a piece of art? To be possessed? “Mine?” And Adam had written “Stay beautiful,” like it was some kind of command, like if she didn’t have her looks she would have nothing. Suddenly Skylar felt like crying.
“This is just depressing me,” she said, putting the yearbook back in the trunk. Her attempt to lighten up the afternoon had been a colossal failure. She felt dangerously close to cracking.
“On the bright side, at least you know guys like you,” Jo said, lifting her mattress and plucking out a Charleston Chew lodged in the rusty springs.
“Yeah,” Skylar sighed. “Whoop-de-effing-do.” She took the proffered candy gratefully and bit off a huge chunk, wishing it was one of the cold ones Mack used to keep in the deep freeze for particularly hot days. The brittle snap of frozen nougat against her teeth was something she would always associate with her happiest memories.
“I’m serious,” Jo said. “All the guys here treat me like I have a penis.”
Skylar looked at Emma and Maddie and they burst into laughter simultaneously.
“It’s not funny!” Jo said, even though she was laughing, too. “I’m a seventeen-year-ol
d nun.”
“But I thought you hated the boy talk,” Maddie said.
“Kind of,” Jo said. “But I don’t hate the boys. I think about them just like you guys.”
“Johannah! It’s like I don’t even know you anymore!” Maddie cried dramatically. “Don’t tell me you watch The Bachelor. Or, actually, do tell me, because I need someone to discuss the final rose ceremony with.”
“I might be able to help you out with that,” Emma said, shyly raising her hand.
Now it was Skylar’s turn to be shocked. She never tried to dish about dumb pop culture with Emma because she figured she’d roll her eyes and go back to marking up the pages of Anna Karenina or whatever important book she was reading for extra credit. Maybe she was guilty of pigeonholing people, too.
“But how do you fit it in with all of your work?” she asked.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Emma said. “Also, Hulu.”
Maddie and Emma launched into an analysis of that season’s contestants—who was there “for the right reasons,” who might be mentally unstable, and whether “pharmaceutical sales” was a legitimate career or just code for television prostitute—as Jo shared more of her candy stash with Skylar, and the combination of the sugar and the laughter acted like a tonic. In fact, Skylar was just starting to feel hopeful about reunion again when she heard the soft knock on the wood and turned to see Adam standing in the doorway.
She froze. Was he looking for a pre-bonfire booty call? Even though she was jonesing for his attention, the last thing she needed right now was for him to say something that would expose her secret to Emma.
Adam flashed his easy smile. “I hope I’m interrupting something,” he said.
“Just girl stuff,” Maddie said. “You know: flowers, unicorns, tampons.” Adam laughed.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your vagina monologues in a second. I was just stopping by to ask if I could borrow someone for a walk,” he said.