Stacey says, “I don’t want you to ignore her because of me.”
“If I were you, I’d want them to pour honey all over her and put her on an anthill,” Betsy says.
Stacey bites her lip.
Betsy leans over to Stacey and says, “Do you want to swap lollipops for a while? I’m getting tired of this flavor.”
Stacey smiles and makes the exchange.
Soon everyone with lollipops is either swapping or licking each other’s lollipops.
My mother would die if she saw this.
I trade with Robin.
My mother would make me wash my mouth out with twenty bottles of Listerine. She won’t even let everyone use the same bathroom cup.
The bell rings for lunch.
Everyone seems to be in a better mood, in some ways closer because of what happened.
We all rush out of the door.
I can see Corrine sitting under a tree, talking to Ginger.
I’ve got a feeling that it’s going to be some summer, that I’ve got a lot to learn . . .and I’m going to have to learn it quickly.
CHAPTER 6
Lights out. It’s definitely time for that. The campers may not be exhausted, but I am—absolutely wiped out.
It’s been a long day, a very long day. The preparation, arrivals, getting them settled, taking them to the pool to be tested, to the showers after swimming, back to the bunk to change and go over the cabin rules, on to dinner (noisier than the school cafeteria ever was), a meeting so that the campers could meet the staff and learn the general rules and regulations.
The campfire. I hope marshmallows come out of hair or else Ginger’s going to attract a lot of flies. Somehow, someone managed to drop a freshly melted marshmallow on her head without getting caught. No one would admit to having seen who did it, not even Ginger. She wouldn’t let Corrine or me try to help her get it out.
I tried to talk to her, but she turned away.
Now we’re back at the bunk.
There’s lots of giggling going on. It began as soon as we turned out the lights.
Corrine walks into our room. “I’ve suggested they all settle down and go to sleep, but I doubt they will. After all, it’s the first night, to be expected.”
“What should we do now?” I ask.
“Why don’t you work on the diary we’re supposed to be keeping. Just relax a little.”
I get the notebook and look at the first-camp-day assignment. We’re supposed to write down first impressions of each camper, a little description of each of them, and my own feelings and perceptions about the first day.
I begin by opening the notebook and staring at it. That’s what happens when I confront a blank sheet of paper when I begin writing. I go as blank as the page.
I alphabetize the names, then doodle on the margins.
Risa sticks her head in the door. “We’re taking a poll to see who in the cabin has already gotten her period and how old they were when they got it. Do you two want to be part of it?”
Corrine chuckles. “No, and I think you should cut it out. It’s time for lights out, and anyway that may embarrass some of the kids.”
Risa shakes her head. “The poll’s already taken, six yesses, with the youngest age being nine. Four noes. One maybe. And one ‘if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.’ ”
“Let me guess,” I say. “The last one’s Ginger.”
“It sure wasn’t Stacey,” Risa says.
“I think that’s enough for tonight, Risa,” Corrine says. “Lights out.”
“We took the poll in the dark. The only light on in this cabin’s yours.”
Linda sticks her head in the door. “I think this camp’s haunted.”
“Why?” Risa asks.
“Because everyone here keeps talking about the camp spirit.”
“Out,” Corrine and I yell. “Get into bed.”
Risa and Linda vanish, giggling.
Corrine gets out of her bunk and stands up. “Marcy, please watch any comments about Ginger. If the kids think we can’t stand her either, they’ll just come down harder on her.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll try. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s understandable. Just don’t do it again, if you can help it.”
“Okay.”
Corrine pretends to pound her head on the wall. “I need a break. First days wipe me out,” she says. “Marcy, you’re in charge. See you in ten minutes . . . or so.”
She leaves. I’m going to have to try harder to be nice to Ginger. Setting an example is hard when you’re only a couple of years older than the campers. Being the youngest CIT isn’t easy. Still I’m glad that Barbara thought enough of me to ask when they needed a last-minute replacement.
I stare at my notebook for a few minutes and then write.
The day’s been really hectic.
Corrine returns. “Your turn to go out.”
I yawn. “I’ll skip it tonight. I’m exhausted.”
She grins, “I ran into someone outside who wants to talk to you.”
“Who?” I ask, jumping out of my bunk without even using the ladder.
“It’s Ted. I’m glad you got over your crush on Jimmy,” she says while I put on my sneakers. “I didn’t want to butt in before, but I know what he’s like. I went out with him once last summer. It’s just not worth it. You spend the entire time listening to him talk about himself.”
She crawls into bed. “I feel much better now that I told you. I feel like you’re the little sister I never had, but always wanted.”
“I’m glad you’ve adopted me. I always wanted an older sister.”
She grins. “Now go outside and say hello to Ted. And Marcy, don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
I wave and walk outside.
The kids are still giggling and talking to each other in their beds.
Ted’s standing near the cabin, looking at the sky. It’s glorious in the country. Clear. Stars. There’s even a full moon tonight.
I come up behind him, tap him on the shoulder, and say, “Pardon me, sir. Is this space taken?”
He turns around, smiles, and says, “Hi, Marcy.”
After that wonderful start I’ve got no idea what to say next.
“I just wanted to see you, find out how your first day went. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” He looks a little uncomfortable.
I hear giggles from the direction of the cabin. We move to a more secluded area, where we won’t be the cabin’s late-night show.
We sit under a tree.
I slap at my arms, killing the mosquitoes who think I’m the local blood bank.
“So how did your first day go?” I say.
“Fine. And yours?”
“Okay.”
“This is a wonderful conversation,” Ted says. “For two people who were hired for their creativity, this is really dull.”
I giggle. Giggling must be catching. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed . . .by camp.”
“Not by me?” Ted grins. “Well, good then. I can handle that as long as I know that the diagnosis is overwhelmed due to occupational hazard.”
As we sit there, I see Jimmy walk by with one of the girls who is on the grounds crew. He’s got his arm around her waist and he’s pointing something out in the sky.
I’m glad that’s not me. Tonight at the campfire Jimmy asked if I wanted to go back to his room later to look at the newspaper clippings he’s got about his sports triumphs. He asked while we were trying to deal with the marshmallow in Ginger’s hair. I said no. Risa volunteered to go in my place, but Jimmy just looked at me, said, “Your loss,” and left.
Ted pinches me on the arm and says, “Marcy.”
I look at him.
“I don’t think you’ve heard one thing I’ve said for the last four minutes.”
“Oh, Ted, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “You were too busy looking at Jimmy. I can
’t believe you could be turned on to that creep. I thought you had better taste.” He stands up. “We’d better get back to our cabins.”
I jump up. “It’s not the way you think it is. Don’t be mad at me.”
He says, “I’m not . . . Well, maybe I am. I don’t really know exactly what I’m feeling. I just think you’re special and it makes me angry to think you like Jimmy better than me.”
“But I don’t,” I say and realize that it’s absolutely true. “I do care about you, not him. I’m just a little confused.”
“Marcy, I want us to be friends. At least friends. Probably more.”
At least friends. Probably more. This thing with Ted isn’t a crush. It’s something more for me too, only I’m not sure. What if I let myself start to care and get hurt? I’m not sure I can survive a broken heart. I get hurt so easily anyway, so I’ve never let myself get too close to a guy, not that there have been that many opportunities. I’m scared. What if it turns into a real relationship and it’s as bad as my parents’ marriage?
I look at Ted. He’s bright and fun and very cute. He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He likes me, obviously a lot, and he’s not afraid to let me know.
I push the hair out of his eyes and say, “Friends. At least friends.”
He puts his arms around my waist.
I bet he’s going to think I have no waist at all, that I’m just a puffball. Then I remember, I’m not fat anymore.
I put my arms around him.
A mosquito’s draining all of my blood out of my right arm, but I decide now is not the time to slap it.
We kiss.
It’s wonderful.
We kiss again.
It’s still wonderful—until the large flashlight beams on us, we hear a cough, and separate.
It’s Carl and Barbara, who are smiling.
I could die of embarrassment.
Ted says, “We’re on a ten-minute break. The cabins are supervised.”
Carl says, “We’re just doing our nightly check of the areas, to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Everything’s okay,” I say.
“So I noticed.” Barbara smiles.
I blush.
“About time to get back, isn’t it?” Carl says.
Even though our parents aren’t around, I’ve got the feeling that Barbara and Carl keep an eye on things.
I’m not so sure that’s bad.
As Carl and Barbara go off to check out the camp area, Ted puts his arm around my shoulder and we walk back to the cabin.
I feel good. A little nervous but good.
We stand by the cabin for a minute.
I hear muffled giggling.
So does Ted because he leans over and gives me a fast kiss and whispers, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I walk into the cabin, there’s applause and a lot of voices start singing:
Marcy and Ted, sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G;
First comes love
Then comes marriage
Then comes Marcy with a baby carriage.
Corrine’s standing there, singing with the kids.
I look at everyone, wave as if I’m a queen greeting her subjects, and walk into my room as everyone applauds again.
CHAPTER 7
Two weeks of camp gone already.
Linda and Risa organized a midnight raid on the kitchen.
Kitty’s been taking extra food from the dining hall and hiding it under her bed, in case hunger strikes late at night. We found a mouse under her bed. Stacey brought it to the nature shack.
Crying a lot from homesickness, Bobbie said she’s allergic to bug juice and wanted to leave. Now that she’s having fun, her allergy has disappeared and she’s consuming large quantities of bug juice.
Alicia’s teaching everyone to swear in Spanish.
Ellen’s circulating a petition, protesting the amount of meat served. She wants a choice for vegetarians.
Ginger’s been brutal. I tried to talk to her one day and she told me “bug off.” Another time I put my hand on her arm and she pushed it away. Only once was she ever friendly, the time that I suggested that she do some drawings for the camp magazine. When I asked her about the artwork later, though, she said, “Who wants to work on that lousy magazine, anyway?” So I gave up.
I hardly have any chance to be alone with Ted. Camp’s been in session for two weeks and while it’s mostly fun, Corrine and I’ve been run ragged.
We’ve just called a bunk meeting.
Barbara’s on her way up the hill right now to be part of the meeting.
The kids are sitting around, not saying much, playing jacks, writing letters, practicing dance steps.
I look over my notes about what we’re going to cover at this meeting.
Barbara arrives. “Hi, gang. Let’s get started.” She smiles.
Everyone looks at her.
“Why don’t we hold the meeting under a tree outside?” Corrine suggests.
“Good idea,” Barbara says.
Outside we go.
Barbara takes out a clipboard. “I understand some of you want the chance to air your feelings. Well, let’s do it.”
The girls look at each other.
“I don’t think it’s fair that we have to go swimming,” Janie says. “I don’t want to learn. It’s impossible.”
“But it’s good exercise,” Barbara answers.
“Not when Jimmy’s had to rescue me twice,” Janie says.
“Lucky.” That’s from Risa.
Ellen raises her hand. “I think the food here is nutritionally bad, too starchy, too much meat. Meat makes people act like animals.”
“I like meat,” Kitty says. “Just because you don’t, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to live on rabbit food.”
“I’ll give you my spinach,” offers Linda.
“Sugar’s bad for us. There’s too much sweet stuff given out.” Ellen won’t quit.
“How come there’s a rule that we can only get two candy bars a day from the canteen?” Janie makes a face.
“How about some rice and beans?” Alicia asks.
Barbara says, “I want all of you to notice the differences of opinion here and see how hard it is to meet all of the individual needs.”
“You end up meeting no one’s needs,” Robin says, pulling bark off a twig.
Sighing, Barbara says, “We try.”
Stacey says, “Someone put bubble gum in my flute. No one’s been caught.”
“And someone cut the strings on my guitar.”
“My sculpture got destroyed.” Ellen is angry.
Corrine says, “It’s hard to prove who’s responsible.”
Everyone stares at Ginger.
“I get blamed for everything. I don’t have to take this.” Ginger sticks out her tongue. “And I have a complaint too. How come you won’t let me bring up my portable television? I’d rather watch that than have to be part of all the stupid group activities around here.”
“No TVs allowed. You know that.” Barbara stares at her.
“Rules are made to be broken,” Ginger smirks.
“No they’re not.” Barbara shakes her head. “Not the rules here. They’re for your own good.”
“You’ve broken some rules in your life,” Ginger says. “So don’t play Ms. Perfect with us.”
“Ginger,” I yell. “Stop that.”
“It’s all right,” Barbara says. “It might as well be out in the open. I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately from a few people. It’s better to get it all straightened out.”
She looks very tired but continues. “I know I’ve taken some stands that don’t go along with everyone’s wishes. But I want you to realize, Ginger, that I felt that there were some very important issues at stake. It wasn’t done lightly or without a lot of careful thought. That’s different from the way that you’ve been acting, Ginger.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
“Well, that�
��s what we’ve all been trying to help you see.”
“Why don’t you just leave?” Janie says. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“No name-calling, please,” Corrine says.
Ginger says, “Someday I’ll be gone and then you’ll all be sorry.”
“I doubt that,” Betsy says, speaking for the first time at the meeting.
Everyone looks at her.
She shrugs. “Well, it’s true. None of us would be sorry if Ginger left. I know she’s the one who put peanut butter in my sleeping bag . . .the crunchy kind.”
Barbara says, “I really hope you can all learn to get along.”
“Dream on.” Kitty makes a face.
Linda says, “We’re making it sound like camp’s terrible. I don’t think it’s that bad. I’m having a lot of fun.”
Of course she is, I think. She loves camp and kidding around. The other day someone told her that if you put a sleeping person’s hand in warm water, that person would think she wet the bed. This morning I woke up with my hand in warm water.
“I like camp too. I just want a vegetarian diet,” Ellen says.
“I don’t want to find bubble gum in my flute again, but I like it here,” Stacey says.
The kids continue to talk.
I keep waiting for Barbara to come up with the magic solution, the thing that’s going to make it all better.
It doesn’t happen.
What does happen is that everybody gets a chance to talk out what’s bothering them.
Barbara takes some notes and promises to consider the suggestions.
The meeting ends, and the girls go on to other activities.
I’m not sure what’s been accomplished, except that I’m going to try again to reach Ginger, to do something no one else has been able to do.
Barbara puts down the clipboard. “What a week. I’m exhausted.”
“It’ll be okay,” I say.
She smiles. “Carl would say you’re beginning to sound like me, always sure that everything’s okay.”
“That’s what I tell her,” Corrine nods. “Barbara, are you getting discouraged?”
Barbara nods. “I figure that we’ve got a great place here—creative, open, sensitive to the individual—and still, people complain. Not only that, but we’ve had to send home two staff members for breaking the rules, smoking grass in their cabin. It’s not been easy.”
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