Love & Betrayal & Hold the Mayo

by Francine Pascal

  We head off in a troop to meet the enemy, the friendly enemy. Most of the time too friendly.

  You can hear the music blasting before you’re halfway there. It feels good—it’s the first real sounds of home.

  It’s always horrendous walking into those things, even in a safe group like we are. I wonder if Dena Joyce has these regular human feelings. I can’t picture her being nervous about meeting a boy.

  “They’re probably all jerks, what do you think?” Alexandra is walking with Steffi and me. She’s a wreck too, you can tell.

  “I know one that isn’t,” Steffi says, winking at me.

  “Nobody could accuse Robbie Wagner of being a jerk. Ever!” Alexandra agrees.

  “And that other guy from the bus?” Steffi pokes me. “Remember him? He was cute.”

  “Except he was madly in love with you,” I remind her.

  Right away Alexandra wants to know who, what, and where. So Steffi tells her about Ken. She was really impressed with him. I thought he was okay, but not that good. She probably liked him because he was obviously so gaga about her.

  I personally hate him.

  “Sounds like everybody’s there already,” I say, trying to move the conversation off Ken.

  “Get a load of D. J.,” Steffi pokes me. And sure enough, there’s good old Dena Joyce pulling out ahead. She’s got to be first in everything.

  “She thinks if she gets in there first she’ll get the best one, like she did the first day with the beds,” Steffi says, laughing.

  “Right,” I tell her, “but you better move it because the best bed this time happens to be none other than Robbie Wagner.”

  Steffi laughs and pretends she’s making a run for it; Dena Joyce actually speeds up. Allie and I crack up.

  “What’s so funny?” one of the twins wants to know.

  Before we can answer, her echo joins her, “… so funny?” They’re really strange those twins. It’s like they’re Siamese but they’re not joined where you can see. They’re stuck together at the mind, which is barely big enough for one anyway. It’s the same person stamped out twice.

  So I answer the closest one. “Nothing,” I say, and continue to be hysterical. I still haven’t forgiven them for the poster bit on the first day.

  With Dena Joyce in the lead, Claire following respectfully a few steps behind, and then the rest of us, we go up the wooden steps of the social hall. The music is so loud inside they don’t even hear us. Before they see us, we get a couple of seconds’ free look at twenty-five boys, all brand new. Excitement and terror.

  Now someone spots us. You can see the word spreading through them. We keep heading in. They’ve become one large moving blur engulfing us.

  “Smile, Torrie,” Steffi whispers to me. Then I realize how tight my face is. It probably started off as a smile then froze into something horrendous. Something you practically have to chop off.

  “Steffi! Over here, Steffi!”

  I’d know that voice anywhere. It’s coming from over my left shoulder, but I don’t dare turn. Steffi starts to pull me toward the voice, but I say, “In a minute,” and she heads off into the crowd. Now I’m alone. I make a quick search for Alexandra, but I can’t find her. I’m on my own. Help!

  “Hi,” a nice voice says, and when I look up I see it’s Ken from the bus.

  “Oh, hi. How you doing?”

  “Great …” He searches a second for my name, then, “Don’t tell me. I remember. Steffi!”

  Jerk.

  “Steffi’s friend,” I say, as nicely as I can with one more try at being cute.

  “Right,” he smiles, “Steffi’s friend.” And he joins in the joke and he is nice. I get a quick sense that he’s taking another look at me.

  “Victoria,” he says, and I think he likes what he sees.

  “Right.” I smile a real smile back and point to him and say, “Robbie!”

  I can’t believe my ears. Did I say that?

  The instant it leaves my lips, the second the smile leaves his. I’m horrified. I really never meant to say that name. It jumped out of my head. I know his name is Ken, and I certainly know he isn’t Robbie. Oh God, I’m going crazy.

  He recovers first. “Okay, now we’re even.” And he’s back to smiling.

  “Ken Irving,” I say, to show him that I really do remember him. “How’s the telephone business?”

  “Great. I’ve disconnected twelve people in only three days. What’s up with the waitressing? I haven’t seen any of you girls in the mess hall so far.”

  “We don’t start until tomorrow, when the kids come up. All we’ve been doing is learning the rules. You wouldn’t believe how complicated it is. I’ll never remember it all.”

  “So big deal. So you forget something. Don’t be so nervous about it. After all, it’s only your first time.”

  “Have you seen the gargoyles yet?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Would you like to make a mistake in front of them?”

  “I don’t think they’d do more than shoot you.”

  All the time we’re talking, I’m watching Steffi and Robbie out of the corner of my eye. They’ve been dancing, a slow dance, real close. When the music ends they begin to make their way over to us. They’re holding hands. I’m looking right at them, but I blur them out as they come closer.

  “Hi,” Steffi says, then I see her struggling for Ken’s name.

  “You remember Ken from the bus?” I say.

  “Right, Ken Irving,” she says, and Ken Irving beams. He’s been remembered right down to his last name. This boy could never be interested in me. Then she starts to introduce Robbie, but it turns out they know each other already. In fact they’re sharing a bunk.

  It’s happening to me again. I’m … I don’t know … upset by Robbie. When he’s near me he seems to take over everything. It’s really terrible, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I know I’ve got to start by getting away from him; then I can think out a plan of action.

  I barely wait for the new song to begin. “I love this song,” I say, looking directly at Ken, who is hopelessly lost in something Steffi is saying. He doesn’t even see me, but Steffi does, and before I can stop her she says to Robbie, “It’s your favorite, too. Torrie, show him that new step you were trying yesterday.”

  And she pushes me onto the dance floor. Of course, he has to follow. But I stop it.

  “I can’t,” I say to both of them (still not actually focusing on Robbie). “I twisted my ankle.”

  “I didn’t know,” Steffi says, concerned. “When?”

  “Just before.”

  Steffi looks at me in a funny way, like something’s up, but I just go right on. “I gotta get something to drink. I’m dying of thirst. Anyone want anything?”

  “I’ll get it,” Robbie says. “You should get off that foot.”

  “No,” I say, taking full control of the situation. “It’s better to walk it out.”

  “But not dance it out, huh?” Steffi’s looking at me really strangely, but I pay no attention. I have to do it this way.

  “Three Cokes?” I say, and head off without waiting for an answer.

  I don’t care what happens, I am not going to get involved with my best friend’s boyfriend. No matter what, I swear I will absolutely not go near him. I swear on our friendship. All the way over to the other corner where they’re giving out the drinks, I keep telling myself that this is the way it has to be. I have no choice. It’s simple. I’m just going to walk away whenever he’s around. I’ll find reasons. They may not be fabulous, but it’s better than what would happen if I stuck around. I know it. I can’t control it any other way. I never had someone be so totally awesome in my life before.

  “Torrie!”

  Steffi comes up behind me, pulling me out of my daydream/nightmare.

  “That’s okay,” I say, “I can carry them.”

  “What’s up?” she says. “What’s all this business about your ankle? There’s nothi
ng wrong with your ankle. You’re not even limping. What’s going on, Torrie?”

  “Nothing. I really did hurt my foot, but it feels better now. I told you I had to walk it out.”

  “You’re full of it. You just don’t like him. That’s what it’s all about. I know it.”

  “You’re wrong. I think he’s terrific.”

  “You hate him. I can tell. You were practically rude to him. I can’t believe you’d be like that to someone who’s so important to me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is, too, and you know it.”

  Here we are, the two best friends in the world, and we’re fighting over something that isn’t even real. I’ve got to stop it.

  “It’s because of Ken.” I have to say something, anything.

  “What do you mean? How can it be because of Ken? What’s he got to do with your being so awful to Robbie?”

  All the time she’s asking the question, I’m thinking like mad for an answer. Then I find it. “I really didn’t mean to be rude to Robbie,” I tell her. “It’s just that I think I’ve fallen in love with Ken, and he’s all I can think about.”

  First I’m fighting, now I’m lying. It’s really gross what’s happening.

  “I didn’t want Ken to think I wanted to dance with Robbie because he’d just asked me to dance, and I got so nervous I had to say no, so …”

  Just looking at Steffi’s face tells me this is a stupid lie, but it’s too late.

  “So,” I dig myself deeper into the hole, “I couldn’t very well dance with Robbie, could I?”

  Steffi looks at me; she’s angry. I’ve known Steffi Klinger since the third grade. We used to have little fights, nothing serious, when we were really young, but we haven’t had even a real disagreement since we got into seventh grade. I’ve seen her angry, but never at me. I just stand there because all the baloney is finished. This is really intense.

  “I don’t know why you’re lying to me. And I don’t know why you don’t like him, unless, and I think this is crazy, you are jealous of him or what?”

  “Jealous of Robbie?”

  “With me, I mean.”

  I don’t believe it. I’m saved. She gave it to me herself. I know it’s more lies but it’s the only thing that’s going to work. It’s bad if I like him too much and bad if I don’t like him enough. This is the only way out. So I take it.

  “Well … I guess he is going to change our relationship.”

  “No he’s not. Sure, maybe I’ll be spending more time with Robbie, but we’ll still have a lot of time together. After all, we’ll be living together in the same bunk. We’ll be spending more time together than we do at home, right?”

  “I guess so, still …”

  “Really, Torrie, and besides that, we’ll all be together, all three of us.”

  Now it’s getting bad again. I have to stop complaining. “You’re right, Steffi, I guess I’m just not used to you having someone special, but really, when I think about it, I guess it’s no different from the time I spend with Todd when we’re in the city. Actually, you should be able to spend time alone with Robbie. I do with Todd, right?”

  “Sure, a little, but most of the time well all be together.”

  Not if I can help it, but I don’t say anything else. Enough. I’ll worry about the togetherness later.

  “Torrie, you’re my best friend and you’re very important to me, but gee, you can’t do things like this. You know we have that pact that we tell each other when something’s wrong. It would have been terrible if we lost our friendship over something like this. Something that could have been straightened out so easily.”

  I tell her she’s right and how I feel so much better.

  “Come on, Torrie, let’s get back. They’ll think something’s wrong.”

  “Steffi, I know you’re right about everything. And I feel so much better now, but I just don’t feel like going back in there.” And that’s the truth, and Steffi sees it and tells me it’s okay, she’ll tell the boys my ankle was bothering me.

  “You’re my best friend, Torrie. I hope you’ll be my best friend for always.”

  “I really love you, Steffi.”

  She smiles at me. “See you later,” she says, and turns to go up the steps to the rec hall. “Take care of that ankle.”

  “Hey, gimme a break,” I say, but she’s already inside the screen door.

  Okay, it’s not perfect but I can work with it. The most important thing is to stay far away from Robbie Wagner and keep close to Steffi. It’s a trick, but it has to be done.

  I go back toward the bunks. The air is nightime sweet, filled with the scent of honeysuckle and grass. If only I didn’t have this huge problem I really could be happy here. Tonight anyway. Tomorrow is another story.

  Tomorrow the kids arrive. They’re supposed to come here about eleven A.M., in time for lunch. It will be the first meal we’ve ever served. We’re all pretty nervous, especially since the gargoyles will be watching. Worse than that, they’ll be eating there too.

  I’m so lost in my problems that I don’t even notice that I walked almost all the way back to my bunk with nothing but a flashlight, all by myself through the jungle. Well, compared to New York four trees is a jungle.

  I keep shining the flashlight directly in front of me and walking fast. If I weren’t up to my eyebrows in all these other humongous things, I would have been scared to death to walk all by myself. It’s wonderful how horrible things become okay next to horrendous things.

  I’m the first one back and I hop right into bed so I can be asleep when the rest of them get there. I don’t want to answer any questions. Especially from Dena Joyce.

  The last thing I remember is pretending to be asleep.

  Five

  We’re all up by six thirty. Everybody’s a nervous wreck, even the invincible Dena Joyce. And the day doesn’t help. It’s been raining all morning, not heavy, just a drizzle, but it’s cold and gray and everything in the bunk feels and smells damp. All the talk has been about lunch—the first meal. Our big test. It looks like Claire is the most nervous, but inside my head I know I’m miles ahead of everyone else. Just the thought of remembering all those orders, balancing everything, and doing it all fast enough to serve lunch for thirty people (even if twenty-four of them are just kids) spins my brains and gives me a terrible whooshing feeling in my stomach. A little of it leaks out in a low moan.

  Nobody can even eat breakfast and since then we’ve been just sitting around waiting for the big moment. The kids arrived early, about ten thirty, and everything is different. The noise of all those kids settling in fills up all the empty sound space. I like the company. It brightens everything just to. hear the excited activity.

  “Ten minutes to blast off,” Alexandra announces. Of course we’ve all been ready for hours. Then it comes.

  “Attention all waitresses! Attention all waitresses! Report to the main dining room on the double. Let’s go, girls, move it!” And on and on she goes in that hysterical World War III shriek. Boy, do we move it. Faster than the first day to the flagpole.

  Again the stampeding herd barrels down to the mess hall, hands on their hats, flying across the grass. I catch glimpses of kids coming out on their porches to watch the whir of waitresses.

  From the distance I can see the gargoyles waiting in front of the mess hall. Madame Katzoff holds her hands up and we all screech to a stop.

  “This is it, girls,” she announces. “I hope you’re ready. We’re counting on you. Isn’t that right, Dr. Davis?” And the little doctor smiles his assistant-to-the-killer smile, and everyone shivers.

  “Yes, we’re counting on you,” Madame Katzoff continues, “and watching you. Now, let’s hear it, girls. What are you here for?”

  “To serve!” we all shout.

  “And how are you going to serve?”

  “Perfectly!” we answer as we’ve been trained.

  “To the tables!” she shouts, and we all race into the di
ning room.

  This is the first time all the tables have been set up. Going to be a lot of people, much more crowded than I expected. Jammed is more like it.

  We already know which are our tables and head right for them. Even though I’m nervous, now I’m beginning to get excited.

  I have the two youngest groups. One table of six-to-seven-year-old girls and one of the same age boys. They have to be the most adorable.

  I start setting up my tables. They’re a little crowded, but the kids are small, it shouldn’t be too bad.

  I don’t know why, but it seems to be taking me longer than anyone else to set up. Maybe it’s because Dr. Davis is watching me. He’s making me so nervous that forks and knives keep sliding out of my hands.

  “How you doing?” Steffi says, coming over to my tables.

  “Are you finished already?” I ask her, and fall into a real panic.

  She shakes her head. “I think my tables are smaller. I’ll give you a hand.” And she grabs some plates and starts helping me.

  “How many do you have?” I ask, stooping down to pick up the same fork for the third time.

  “About thirty.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re just jumpy today. First day and all.”

  “Yeah.” But it’s her first day too. I don’t know why I’m such a mess.

  Finally we finish. Actually it looks pretty good. In fact I add a little touch for my kids by folding the napkins a special way so that they look like birds. Well, sort of.

  “Trays, girls,” Madame Katzoff commands, and we all rush over to the stack of heavy metal trays. Everyone takes one.

  Somehow Steffi and I are last to get the trays, so we get the worst ones. Mine is crooked with a bubble right in the center that makes everything sort of slip to one side. Hers has a bend along the edge, the perfect place for a glass of milk to slide off. There is one tray in perfect condition. Claire gets it but it’s just a matter of time before good old D. J. wheedles her out of it.

  “Here, Claire, you take the lighter one,” D. J. says, handing Claire an identical tray, only not as new and perfect and certainly not one ounce lighter. Dopey Claire says thank you.