One S'more Summer

by Beth Merlin

  The two knights retreated to their respective sides and then came down from their horses. Each one knelt down in front of Gordy and presented their banner to him. Holding one in each hand, Gordy marched forward, and in his best English accent said, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility. But, when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger.”

  I looked over at Perry and mouthed the words, “Shakespeare?”

  He held up his hand so his five fingers showed and mouthed back, “Henry the Fifth.”

  Gordy screamed into the microphone, “I bid you all welcome to Camp Chinooka’s One-Hundredth Color War Games.”

  The campers went crazy, and it took a full minute before they settled down and Gordy could continue speaking.

  “This year’s competition will pit Heroes against Villains. The Gold Team, led by General Goldstein, will be the Heroes. Gigi, please come join me.”

  I ran up to Gordy, and he handed me the gold banner along with a gold T-shirt that said General on the front and Heroes on the back.

  “The Blue Team, led by General Gillman, will be the Villains. Perry, can you please come up here as well?”

  Perry ran up from the crowd, getting high-fived along the way. He joined me on the other side of Gordy, who handed Perry his blue banner and T-shirt. We both slipped our shirts over our heads and were met with more cheers. Gordy handed me the microphone and a piece of paper that had the names of the counselor sergeants, CIT majors, and the camper captains for my team. I read off my list, and Perry did the same. When we were both finished, the counselors, CITs, and campers from all the different divisions lined up behind each of us.

  Gordy announced the first strategy session for the Gold Team would be at the Lakeside Amphitheater in ten minutes. The campers and staff hurried off to their bunks to change into their team colors and go to their respective meetings. Before I left to join them, I congratulated Gordy on another successful breakout.

  Perry nodded in agreement. “Where’d you find the knights?”

  “Medieval Times. There’s one about forty-five minutes away from here. The horses belong to the camp. I hired the actors.”

  Gordy walked away looking extremely pleased with himself. When he was out of earshot, Perry turned to me and asked, “What’s Medieval Times?”

  “It’s a kind of dinner theater where you watch the reenactment of a period jousting tournament and eat with your hands,” I said, giving him the best description I could come up with.

  “Sounds brilliant. Let’s go someday,” he said.

  “It’s a date,” I said, leaning up to kiss him. “So, General Gillman, is this it for the next four days?”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, taking hold of my hands. “Fraternizing with the enemy is tantamount to treason.”

  “Well then, far be it from me to be a traitor.” I started to walk away from him, but he pulled me back into his arms for one last kiss. “Think Mussolini and Churchill said goodbye like this?” I teased.

  “I hope not. See you in four days,” he said.

  “Oh, you’ll see me before then, General Gillman, and when you do, you and your team should be prepared to retreat.”

  “Starting with the smack talk already? Bring it,” he said.

  “Oh, I will.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Looking forward to it, Princess.”

  “That’s General Goldstein to you,” I said with a playful smile.

  He saluted me, and we separated to go to our first team strategy meetings. I walked into the amphitheater and was greeted by a sea of gold. The campers had wasted no time getting into the full spirit of Color War and wore anything they could find in a gold or yellow. Some had even painted their faces, arms, and legs with yellow war paint.

  I ran to the front of the stage greeted by massive cheers from the crowd. I reintroduced the sergeants, majors, and captains who were met with more applause. Once the kids settled down, I read through the schedule for the next day, letting each age group know the events they’d be competing in. I asked for volunteers to work on the team’s original cheer, song, and plaque. The Creative Trifecta accounted for almost half of the final score and would be presented during the final night of Color War. Knowing their significance to the competition, I asked the volunteers to stay behind a few extra minutes so we could brainstorm some ideas.

  As the other campers made their way back to their cabins, most of them still on a high from the breakout, the rest of us sat down on the stage to strategize. Since Davis, one of the drama directors from Fiddler, was assigned to our team, I begged him to take the lead on the song. He was hesitant to accept. When I pressed him on the reason, he explained that Perry had single-handedly written the winning song the last three years of Color War.

  “Gigi, you don’t get it. His songs are incredible,” Davis said.

  I did get it. Over the last few weeks, I’d been Perry’s very willing audience of one. He played different incarnations of his original composition, and I gave him my critiques. Knowing little about classical orchestrations, most of my comments were limited to my gut emotional response to the music. My gut told me he was incredible. So did my heart.

  “Just do what you can. You’re our best chance,” I said, rubbing his shoulders like I was prepping Rocky for his big fight against Apollo Creed.

  Davis still looked nervous. I reminded him that Sally, the head arts and crafts counselor, had been assigned to our team too, so we at least had an advantage where the plaque was concerned. That seemed to take a bit of the pressure off, and he finally agreed to help.

  All that was left to figure out was the cheer. A few of the girls from my cabin stepped forward with their ideas. I was happy to let them run with it. After admitting she’d been the captain of her high school’s cheerleading team, Jordana offered to supervise. I delegated out the rest of the tasks and dismissed everyone back their bunks.

  The next morning, The Beach Boys’ song ‘Heroes and Villains’ played at top volume over the camp PA system to wake the whole camp. The song’s lyrics had almost nothing to do with heroes or villains, but I could only imagine how thrilled Gordy had been when he came across the apropos title. For the first time all summer, the girls didn’t complain about the early hour or try to burrow back under their blankets. They were ready for battle.

  Madison, dressed in tight-fitting yellow shorts and a yellow T-shirt, offered to let me use the gold nail polish she’d brought to camp. It had already become a huge trend with the girls, so the limited supply made it a hot commodity around the bunk. I thanked her and applied some to my own nails. I got dressed in my “General” T-shirt and paired it with cut-off jean shorts. I asked Jordana if she could braid some gold ribbon into my hair and then did the same for her. I walked passed the full-length bathroom mirror and stopped right in front of it. I couldn’t help but wonder what my very fashionable former colleagues from Diane von Furstenberg would have to say about my look. The truth was, I was having so much fun, I didn’t care one bit.

  The Cedar girls were competing in water events in the morning and tug-of-war in the afternoon. The water events consisted of swim relays, sailing, and rowing races, and, of course, Ishkabibble.

  Ishkabibble was Gordy’s favorite Color War event and mine too. All the participating campers stood around the edge of the pool while Gordy read a story over a bullhorn. Every time he said the word “Ishkabibble” the campers had to jump into the pool. To make it harder, the story was always littered with phrases that sounded similar to Ishkabibble, like Ishkasnivel or Ishkadribble. If you jumped in the pool on the wrong word, you were out. The tension was usually pretty unbearable, especially as it got down to the last few campers. From what I’d observed over the years, Ishkabibble was not a game for the faint of heart.

  When we arrived at the dining hall for breakfast, I reminded the girls all meals were silent during Color War and points would be deducted
from the team caught talking. The dining staff loved to try to get the campers to talk by putting disgusting combinations of food on their plates or heckling them. As a camper, I’d hated the silent meals, but as a counselor, I already loved them. We were only a few hours into Color War, and I was already grateful to have a few minutes to hear myself think between the wall-to-wall cheering.

  Most of the team heeded my warnings and ate their meal in complete silence. A girl from Elm cost the Villains some points when she asked one of the kitchen staff to get her a new grilled cheese after a Heroes CIT had covered hers in whipped cream. Madison and Alex Shane lost Heroes a few points when they were caught speaking to each other by the cereal dispensers. Perry caught my glance and stared me up and down. Who would’ve thought he was capable of saying so much while saying so little? I winked back at him and took my seat. Gordy, the only one exempt from the silent meal rules, made a few announcements and then dismissed us to our first contests.

  During the morning, the Villains pretty much slaughtered the Heroes in all events. We did manage to squeak out a win in Ishkabibble. Surprisingly, Candice won the game for the Gold Team. In the final round, it had gotten down to her and a girl from the Villains. The other girl had jumped in the water on Ishkariddle and we were declared the victors. I couldn’t believe that the girl who didn’t listen to anyone ever could actually be the victor in a game designed around paying attention. I was pretty certain Candice just didn’t want to get her hair wet.

  That small triumph wasn’t enough to even the scores. By the afternoon, it was clear we needed to win the tug-of-war to give us a fighting chance going into Day Two.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, the whole camp came out to watch the tug-of-war, which was set up on the far corner of the athletics field. It started out as a pretty evenly matched game. The Blue Team would gain some yardage, then the Gold. Perry placed their biggest campers at the far end of the rope to anchor it, and the smaller ones closer to the middle and front. From way in the back, he was leading his team in a chant of “One, two, three, heave.”

  On my side of the moat, I was shouting over the noise to try to get my campers to synchronize, but it wasn’t working. The tides turned and we were losing, although putting up a decent fight. For every couple of inches the Blue Team gained, we’d reclaim a few. My hands were being rubbed raw from the rope, and sweat was pouring off of my forehead. I desperately wanted to reach up and put my hair in a ponytail but was too afraid to let go of the rope for even one second. I was so focused, head down, pulling with all my might, I didn’t immediately notice Joshua watching me from across the field.

  I had no clue how long he’d been standing there. In an instant, everything moved in slow motion. I could barely make out the muffled yelling of my teammates, screaming at me to pick up the rope that I’d dropped. I stumbled over to a nearby tree stump to catch my breath and drink some water. Joshua spotted me and came down the field. My face couldn’t hide my confusion. How’d he find me? What did he want?

  “You don’t seem happy to see me,” he said before I could say anything.

  “Joshua.” Just saying his name again made me feel instantly vulnerable—like I was nine years old on that bus to Chinooka for the first time.

  “Your father told me where you were.”

  I shook my head and sat down on the stump. “My father?”

  “I went to his office and pleaded with him to tell me. When he said Chinooka, I didn’t believe him at first. It’s surreal to be standing here with you. Is Gordy still around? You’re head counselor of Cedar?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry I just showed up like this, but I didn’t think you’d see me otherwise. I had to see you. You look—”

  “Like a mess,” I interjected, looking down at my sweat-marked T-shirt and mud-stained calves.

  “Beautiful,” he said, finishing his thought.

  I swallowed hard and Perry came up behind me. “Everything okay here, Gigi? He asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” I answered.

  “If you need me, I’ll be right over there,” he said, pointing to the tug-of-war match, which—remarkably—was still going on.

  “Who’s he?” Joshua asked when Perry was out of earshot.

  Before I could answer, Gordy shouted that the Heroes had won the tug-of-war. I looked over at Perry. He was panting and pouring water from his canteen over his hands, which were visibly red and raw. He’d conceded the Blue Team’s advantage when he left the game to check on me. Over on my side, the Gold Team was high-fiving and celebrating their win. I turned back to face Joshua. “I have to go. My team needs me.”

  “Gigi, please. I came all the way here to see you.”

  I crossed my arms and all the muscles in my back and neck tightened. “I said all I needed to say that night on the sidewalk in June.”

  He lifted his hand up to the side of his face and rubbed it. “Yeah, I know. My cheek’s still stinging. Gigi, come on. Five minutes for an old friend.”

  “I can’t.”

  He stepped closer and stroked the side of my cheek. “Georgica, please.”

  I softened my stance. “I can’t get away now. Maybe later I can, for few minutes.”

  He raised his eyebrows and flashed a closed-lipped smile. “I’ll go walk around and visit some of my favorite haunts. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

  I left the field to look for Perry and found him at the lakefront giving a motivational speech to his team, trying to psych them up for the competitions that night. When he finished, the campers dispersed to their next activity, and he waited behind to talk to me.

  “Was that who I think it was?”

  I nodded. “Joshua.”

  “He’s very charming,” Perry said while tying a blue bandana around his head.

  It didn’t surprise me to hear the self-doubt in his voice. Perry was just as handsome and magnetic, but he was rougher around the edges. Joshua was more polished, and he had a swagger and coolness that was noticeable to men and women alike.

  “He can be.” There was no point in denying what was obvious to anyone who’d met him.

  “What’d he come here for?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  Perry nodded and then asked the question I knew he’d wanted to ask from the moment he saw us talking earlier. “Is it really done?”

  I leaned in and kissed Perry hard.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  “You lost the tug-of-war,” I said.

  “No. I didn’t,” he said, touching my cheek.

  “No. You didn’t.”

  I spent the rest of the day in a tense daze, wandering among the different Color War matchups and looking around every corner for Joshua. As I was heading back to the Cedar horseshoe, Tara spotted him sitting alone in one of the gazebos on the Great Lawn.

  “Gigi, there’s your hot friend,” she said, pointing to him.

  “I should go talk to him,” I mumbled.

  Jordana gave me a sympathetic smile and ushered Tara and the rest of the girls away so I’d have some privacy. Joshua stood up to greet me as I walked inside the gazebo.

  “You sure know how to keep a fella waiting,” he said.

  “I figured you’d be fine without me,” I said and then realized the irony of the statement. I cleared my throat and changed the subject quickly, shaking my head. “I can’t believe you didn’t go home.”

  “I’ve been walking around looking at all our old stomping grounds. It’s amazing how much has changed and how little has changed. I ran into Gordy. He at least pretended to remember who I was.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he remembers you. That man has a memory like a steel trap and you pulled off the most legendary raid of The Canteen in Chinooka history. Campers still talk about it.”

  He brushed his hand across his lips. “You were the brains of that operation. I was just the muscle.”

  “Remembe
r how we woke Alicia up afterward and the three of us sat on the dock chowing down on all the snacks we looted?”

  Joshua walked to the side of the gazebo and leaned over the railing. “What was it Gordy used to call us? Not the Three Musketeers?”

  “The Three Stooges. You were Moe, Alicia was Larry, and I was Curly,” I said, holding up a piece of hair. “Funny, he never realized that Curly was actually the bald one.”

  “The Stooges, that’s right,” he said, laughing to himself.

  I got up and stood beside him. “Do you remember the last time we were here?

  He turned from the railing to face me. “In this gazebo? No? Should I?”

  “It was our last summer at Chinooka. Alicia was interested in one of the CIT’s. I can’t remember his name.”

  “It was Andrew, I think,” he said.

  I nodded. “You and I’d been spending a lot of time together. Then, out of nowhere, you passed me a note during dinner to meet you here. I read and reread the note trying to decipher what it meant.” I finished talking and looked down at the ground.

  “What it’d say?” he asked.

  I rubbed the back of my neck as I paced the gazebo. “I thought you liked me. I thought you wanted to meet here so you could tell me how you felt.”

  “Right,” he said, closing his eyes. “Instead, I asked you to help me get Alicia back.” He sat down and rested his back against the railing.

  I sat down beside him. “Why are you really here, Joshua?”

  He bowed forward and put his head between his hands. “She’s having cold feet or second thoughts. I don’t know.”

  “And you came to talk to your old friend, Gigi, about it. You were expecting me to fix it?”

  He looked up. “I’m not sure. I didn’t think anything. I just wanted to see you. God, being here, I feel like I’m thirteen years old again.”