Love & Betrayal & Hold the Mayo

by Francine Pascal

  “When is he coming?”

  “In two days.”

  “Friday?”

  “Yes, he’s coming up a couple of days early because he knows I’m here. Oh, Torrie, I’m so nervous. I haven’t seen him in six months. That’s a lifetime. Anything could have happened. Maybe he won’t be attracted to me anymore. Oh God, I shouldn’t have cut these bangs. He probably hates bangs.”

  “Steffi, you’re crazy. Those bangs are terrific. He’s going to love them. I can tell from that letter you let me read that he wouldn’t care if you had two heads and both of them had bangs.”

  “You think so?”

  People become so different when they’re in love. Normally Steffi is pretty sure of herself, but when it comes to Robbie, she’s a mess. I guess when you love someone the way she loves Robbie, you always worry you’re going to lose them. I’ve had crushes on boys, but I’ve never been in love like that. I worry so much normally that I’d probably be a basket case if I ever fell in love.

  I don’t know how she’s going to survive the summer. He isn’t even here yet, and she’s falling apart. Well, at least I’m here to help her. That’s what best friends are for, right?

  “For starters, the bangs are great, you look even better than you did last summer. Don’t you remember how that guy, Ken, on the bus went gaga for you?”

  “Did you really think so or what?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “He was sort of nice, but I hardly even look at boys the way I used to since Robbie. I practically look at them like brothers.”

  “I don’t think he wanted to be your brother.”

  “No chance of anything else.” She shakes her head. “Torrie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I dribble on about Robbie for a while?”

  “No longer than a week.”

  “Forget that he’s the best-looking guy you ever saw outside of a movie. He’s sexy and he’s fun, and best of all, he cares. He’s the first one to jump up when anybody needs help. Torrie, he’s like a hero in a movie. I can see him saving people’s lives all the time.”

  “He sounds so great, I know I’m going to like him a whole lot.”

  “I want you to. You two are the most important people outside my family in the world. Sometimes I worry that you won’t like him, and then I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Are you kidding? I like him already.”

  “Is he really as gorgeous as everyone says?” Dena Joyce says, carefully coming out on the perilous porch. Obviously, she’s been listening. “Come on, Steffi, let’s hear it. I’m really interested in Robbie Wagner. Very.” She sounds almost hungry when she says the last very. I personally will kill her if she goes after Robbie. I really will.

  “John Travolta is almost as good-looking,” Steffi says, without even a trace of worry. It’s like a fat little lamb walking into a wolf’s den. I wouldn’t trust Dena Joyce with Frankenstein.

  “He’s just great,” my lamb friend goes on.

  “Really?” says the wolf, practically salivating.

  And Steffi launches into a description of Robbie that makes him sound like every girl’s dream come true. Certainly it’s Dena Joyce’s dream, and she’s probably going to try to make it come true, but she hasn’t got a chance. He really is in love with Steffi. I’ve seen some of his letters, and it’s serious.

  Still, Dena Joyce is very good-looking, the cheerleader type, long blond hair, blue eyes, good figure, just the way a sixteen-year-old girl is supposed to look but never does. Except Dena Joyce does.

  Steffi’s no slouch in the looks department either, but she looks more like a real person. Her hair is a rich, dark brown, almost the same color as her eyes, and even without rouge she has rosy cheeks all the time. Her features are small, not perfect, but soft and nice. Sometime in the last three years she picked up five extra pounds and they stuck. I kind of think they’re in the right places, but she’s always fighting them. So far they’re still there. Oh, well, it’s a lot better than my problems.

  I have long blond hair, my eyes are sort of greenish, I’m five five and I weigh one hundred and ten. Sounds pretty good, huh? It probably would be on someone else, but on me it just looks like me. It just doesn’t come together like it does on Dena Joyce.

  I would worry if Dena Joyce was interested in the boy I loved. But not Steffi. She rattles on about Robbie and doesn’t seem to notice old D. J. drooling.

  The conversation moves on to work, and Dena Joyce loses interest and goes inside.

  After a while the lights go out in the bunk, and Steffi and I sit outside a while longer. It’s only a quarter moon and very dark. The sounds of the country are nice. I wouldn’t like to meet the noisemakers personally, but all together they sound good. I guess it’s mostly crickets. I don’t think snakes make any sound, or even mice or rats….

  “What kind of animals are around here?” I ask Steffi.

  “Not many. Sometimes you see a little garden snake or one of the ones that swim. And one time they caught a rattler near the pool. Last year we had a mouse in the bunk, and they say there are bats living in the rafters in the rec hall …”

  “Bats?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Torrie, they’re just the ordinary ones. Not the Dracula kind.”

  “Nice.”

  “And of course, raccoons and stuff like that. And spiders. Last summer we found the most gigantic …”

  “I’m going to bed.” And leaping across the broken boards and jumping inside the door, I hear Steffi in her most reassuring voice, “Gosh, Victoria, don’t worry. They killed it.”

  “With what, a cannon?” I hate the country.

  It takes me hours to fall asleep. There is just enough light for me to see the hole above my bed. It’s not the most comfortable position for sleep with your head twisted up and sideways, but that’s the only way I can keep a watch out for the invaders. There’s not much of me they can get, since I’m wrapped in my blankets up to my eyeballs. It’s a little warm, but well worth the discomfort.

  Here I am, just where I begged to be. It’s all my parents’ fault. Don’t they know how to hold on to a position? If they didn’t want me to go, they should have made sure I stayed home. God, they are so weak-willed it’s infuriating.

  And on top of everything, that boy in the bus really dug Steffi. In other words, he didn’t like me.

  Last thing I remember hearing is the sound of someone sucking her thumb. Either it’s a thumb-sucking bat or somebody’s got a very embarrassing secret. I’m sure it’s not Dena Joyce; it must be Claire.

  Of course I have a nightmare. I’m camping out on the ground in the jungle in shorts with no blanket or flashlight. I wake up in a sweat. Before the full terror hits me, Edna, the lunatic lady from yesterday, is screaming over the PA system.

  “Let’s go girls. Up and at ’em! Up, up, up … everybody up!” And then the most horrendous bugle blast imaginable.

  We all leap out of bed, racing in all directions, bumping into each other, rushing to get some place, but nobody knows where.

  Except Dena Joyce. She’s the first in the bathroom, first at the sink, first at the toilet, and first in front of the mirror. Amazing!

  The rest of us dummies begin throwing on our uniforms, backward, upside down, and inside out. All the while Edna screeches on.

  In less than ten minutes we’re all dressed, most of us unwashed and uncombed, but ready. Heading out of the door is the messiest group of waitresses, with the exception of D. J., perfect in her uniform, hair combed, teeth shining.

  We make it on the double to the flagpole, assume our positions of yesterday, and wait for the gargoyles. I had forgotten how horrendous they were, but the sight of the two of them marching toward us reminded me.

  We’re sixteen half-dressed waitresses, shivering half from the chill morning air and half from plain old terror.

  “I forgot to tell you not to put the pins in your hat,” Steffi whispers to me.

  “It’s okay, I don�
��t have any pins.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Tell me.”

  “We have to sing. Remember the camp song they told us about yesterday?”

  “Why do you need a hat to sing?”

  Suddenly she stiffens up and without answering me whips her head straight forward. Madame K. and the good doctor have arrived.

  “Okay, girls. The flag.”

  With that, two girls, I guess old campers, walk to the flagpole. Carefully they take the folded flag and attach the two ends to the pulley. To the accompaniment of the bugle we all sing something about raising the flag once again at the break of day. I still can’t figure out what the hats have got to do with anything.

  We hear a pep talk about how wonderful camp is, how lucky we are to be chosen, and what a wonderful summer we’re all going to have. Coming from anyone but the gargoyles I might buy it, but I just don’t trust …

  “Let’s hear it, girls!”

  Steffi whispers, “Just watch me.” Most of the girls are old campers and know what to do. They raise their right arms above their heads and drop their hands onto the tops of their hats. We, the new girls, follow and watch silently as (like they say in the books) they raise their voices in song. And their hats.

  Hats off to Katzoff and Da-vis,

  They lead a wonderful team,

  Rah, rah! rah! …

  Three stanzas. I don’t believe it!

  Here we are, sixteen normal teenagers, singing and tipping our hats like idiots. Steffi is afraid to look at me. She should be.

  Marching single file, still stepping to the inspiring beat of “Hats Off”, we head toward the mess hall.

  The mess hall is in a big white building at the far end of the campus, near the administration building. The eating part is one large room divided in half by a trellis-type wall covered with artificial philodendrons, thousands of shiny green leaves that look like someone oiled each and every one of them. Probably a perfect volunteer job for a camper-waitress.

  The whole place sparkles with cleanliness. Each side has about fifteen or twenty tables, some round and some long rectangles. All are covered with shiny green plastic tablecloths, the same color as the leaves.

  All the tables are numbered. Mine are seventeen and nineteen. They’re in good places, not far from the kitchen. I just can’t wait to get started.

  We get to look at the kitchen, and it’s empty and spotless. No problems here. I can just picture how smoothly this is going to go. We’ll just shoot through the whole thing, in and out in under an hour.

  They let us do a little practicing with the trays. Even though they’re a little heavier than I expected, still I feel very comfortable holding it. It’s going to be terrific fun, I know it.

  “That’s great,” Steffi says, when I show her my tray-holding method. “Someone show you that or what?”

  “A friend of my mother showed me. She was an actress when she first came to New York, and they do a lot of waitressing.”

  Now Alexandra and Liza come over, and they want a demonstration too. I show them the trick of balancing the tray on one shoulder so that it rests on the palm of your hand. They all try it, but it’s harder than they expected. I’ve been practicing for weeks, so I’ve got it down pat.

  I’m off to a very good start, I can tell. Sure, I’m a little nervous, but I know it’s going to be great. I just can’t wait.

  Steffi was up at five this morning. It’s Friday, the big day. Robbie is finally coming. The bus won’t arrive until eleven A.M. but it’s taken Steffi all morning to prepare herself. First she had to try on everything in her wardrobe. Naturally she hated everything and finally ended up wearing a combination of my shorts, Liza’s blouse, Alexandra’s belt, and one of the twins (horrible to say but I still can’t tell them apart—maybe it’s really only one person breaking through the sight barrier) lent her a small suede vest. It looks great over the white blouse. The only thing I’m not crazy for are the shorts, but that’s probably because they’re mine.

  Once she got the clothes under control, she moved on to her hair and makeup. She did at least fourteen different styles and ended up with the original one, long and softly curled at the ends, with one side pulled back. Except for the bangs, it’s exactly the hair style she’s been wearing for the past year. A quick hour to choose the nail polish and apply. By ten thirty she was ready. At ten forty-five she decided my shorts were wrong with the vest. At 10:55 she changed every stitch.

  It is eleven now, and she completely loses her cool and changes back to the original outfit, half dressing, half running to the parking lot. Her vest is on inside out and the zipper stuck open on my shorts. Fortunately the bus is a few minutes late.

  By the time the Grayhound pulls into the campgrounds, everything has been pulled into place. Now the zipper is closed—forever. Nothing matters except that Robbie is here. Well, almost. He still isn’t off the bus.

  I move back so Steffi can have the field to herself. I step away, just beyond the parking lot, far enough to be out of the picture but close enough to be able to watch, like it was a movie. It’s very romantic. I can’t wait to see Robbie, to see them together. After all the messing around with the preparation, Steffi looks beautiful. A lot of it is her excitement and anticipation; it makes her face absolutely glow. It’s hard for me to imagine someone making such a huge difference in your life. I’ve had lots of crushes but nothing that starts so far down and comes out all over. It’s great.

  Steffi is all by herself out there, just like it was a movie and she’s the star. The bus is more than half empty. I can see people inside getting up and reaching above the seats for their luggage. With the tinted windows it’s hard to tell which one is Robbie. I’ll just have to wait and see.

  It rained earlier this morning, but now the sun is strong and there’s enough breeze to spread the wonderful fresh country smells. It’s not hot enough to make you sweat, and the breeze isn’t strong enough to mess your hair; it’s a perfect summer day. Perfect for meeting someone you love.

  The first three people out of the bus are girls. The next person is an older man and then … Robbie. It has to be. I can tell from Steffi.

  Even though her back is to me, I know it from the way her body stiffens and gets alert. For an instant Robbie doesn’t see her. He’s expecting her to be on the other side where the rest of the people are. He searches them.

  He’s too far away for me to tell much. But I can see that he’s probably terrific-looking, tall and slim, with a model’s body—very sexy.

  As soon as he spots Steffi he drops his bags and walks right to her. She’s still nailed to the spot, but now she’s tilted her head up to him. It’s only a few steps away, so he’s there in an instant, slipping his arms around her waist as she flows in and up against him. It’s all one move. Steffi lifts her face to meet his and then her arms are around him, and from the angle of their heads I can tell they’re kissing, and the kiss goes on and they move closer to each other, and I can practically feel their closeness. Now he takes her face in his hands and looks down at her, then kisses her cheeks and her forehead and then down again to her mouth. And stays there. Their bodies are pressed together, tenderly and lovingly.

  Wow! I can hardly believe it’s only my friend Steffi. It really is like a play. She seems so much like a woman, I feel I don’t even know her. Maybe I won’t with Robbie. Maybe she’ll be so different with someone she loves, it’ll be like she’s outgrown me.

  I’m so stuck in those stupid thoughts that for a minute I don’t even hear her calling me. Finally my name breaks through, and I drag myself out of the fantasy I’ve been watching, throw on a smile, and head toward them, taking a new look at my old friend. She’s beaming.

  “Victoria,” she says, putting out her free hand to me. I take it, and now we’re on two sides of Steffi. Me holding her left hand and the great Robbie attached to the right one.

  “My two closest friends,” she says. “Robbie, this is the fabulous Victoria. And Torrie,
this is some guy I picked up at the bus stop.”

  Now my smile is true, and I take my first close look at Robbie, the wonderful, the spectacular—

  Oh …

  Suddenly it’s as if everything stopped dead and opened up, and I fell out. The air is humming and buzzing around me, or is it only inside my head? I catch his eyes, and it’s like I touch an electric current and got locked into it. My God, Steffi! Surely she can see something’s happening, but she doesn’t seem to, because some place way back on the surface I hear her chattering on. I feel like I’ve been caught in a laser beam, something that stops me from moving or feeling anything….

  “Victoria.” It’s Steffi’s voice coming through.

  “Hi.” I jump in immediately, staring right past Robbie’s ear.

  He puts out his hand. “Good to meet you.”

  I don’t dare look at him. I’ll never be able to pull away. I don’t know what’s happening, but I hate it. Stop it, Victoria!

  He’s talking. Something about how he’s heard so much about me, and on and on, and all the time I’m smiling a goofy smile that’s directed somewhere between Steffi’s face and Robbie’s shoulder. Back and forth I go. Is he ever going to shut up?

  Finally he does, and then they wait for me to take my turn. I say the same sort of thing about how much I’ve heard about him. I take myself right up a blind alley, and then a weird silence falls and Steffi jumps in, and with a pull on Robbie’s hand and with a kind of loving shove to me, gets us moving.

  I keep falling behind, and Steffi keeps bringing me up alongside them.

  “We’ve got some beauties in our bunk. Something called a Dena Joyce. The pits, right, Torrie?”

  That’s easy. “Right,” I say.

  And for some reason, Robbie directs his next question at me. I miss the question because I’m bending down to tie my sneaker. Unfortunately I’m wearing slip-on sandals. They both stop and watch me dust my sandals.

  “How do you like being a waitress?” he says to the top of my head.

  I look up. They’re both looking down at me, my best friend and the boy she adores, loves, worships, and will probably even marry one day. He repeats the question. I should look at him to answer it. But I know once I look at him, once I fall into that magnetic field again, I’ll never get out. I’ve never felt such a strong pull to anyone ever. I don’t even know what it is, it’s so enormous. All I know is that it’s not funny.