Camp (20 page)

“All right, y’all,” Patsy called from her side of the cabin. “Let’s hurry to the lake. Wouldn’t want any o’ my gals to be late.” Since when did Patsy care whether we were on time?

“You’re lucky you have a good counselor,” my mother said as she hiked up one of my bathing suit straps to sit higher on my shoulder. Her touch made me tremble. “And she
is
quite attractive. I’m surprised she chose to work at a girls camp.”

Erin came in to grab me for swim while Mrs. Hollander waited outside. “My mother says some girls like their privacy, especially at our age,” Erin explained.

Mrs. Hollander: not only affectionate but sensitive too. Yes, I imagined, Charlie and I would run away to Erin’s house. We’d find out how it would feel to have a real mom.

My mother’s voice drew me from this daydream. “You go on with the girls if you want. I’ll find my way to the lake.”

Charlie and my father met us there. Charlie bounced on the sand as if it were a trampoline. “Hey, buddy. Ready to swim?”

“I could barely keep him from running in.” My father looked around at clusters of campers and parents. “Where’s Mom?”

I told him she had said I should go on ahead with Erin.

“Well, you know your mother won’t be swimming, so maybe I should keep her company while you and Charlie go in. Okay with you, honey?”

“Sure.” I answered with the truth for a change. No need for an adult, not even my father. Erin had said she would swim with Charlie and me. Neither of her parents was going in either. We would stay in the crib area. Erin didn’t mind. And Rory and Robin wouldn’t swim with the babies. So we’d be safe, at least for now. But I looked around anyway, anxious to see where the enemy hid.

The staff took their positions on the dock. Charlie gave one hand to Erin and one to me. At the sound of the whistle, we ran into the lake. “Cold!” Charlie cried as our feet hit the water. Yet he made no effort to run back.

“Let’s find fish,” Erin suggested.

“Fish,” Charlie repeated, as goose bumps rose on his arms. But the crowd of fathers wading with freshmen campers must have scared off the minnows. “Not to worry,” Erin said. “They’ll come soon.”

Charlie stopped fluttering while I wet his shoulders. I helped him ease into the water. He
had
gotten thinner. No doubt about it. What were meals like for him at home without me, without anyone talking to him at the table? And what if he kept getting thinner—thinner and thinner until he’d nearly disappear? Unless I went home with him. Then he might eat again.

Maybe I was wrong to believe my parents wouldn’t let me leave camp. What if I told them about Rory, about the initiation? Would my mother really blame me, or would she allow herself to see my pain? If my parents heard the truth about Takawanda—better yet, if they witnessed it—they might take me home, where I would keep Charlie healthy. I’d be able to endure my mother’s criticism, but I might not survive Rory’s threats. At home, at least, I’d know what to expect. And at home, I’d help Charlie.

A new plan flooded my mind as I watched Erin splash him. I would catch Rory in a false move all right. Not
her
final move but
my
final one, the last false move I’d see at Takawanda. If Rory tried anything, I decided right then, I’d make sure my parents noticed. I would show them what camp truly was: a war zone in which I was trapped. So what if my parents would learn I had lied? What difference would that make?

“You okay?” Erin patted my shoulder.

“Sure. Why?”

“You got so quiet, like you disappeared or something.”

Leave it to Erin. Did she sense she might lose me? I couldn’t tell her I had made a new plan, one that didn’t need a group or a code word, one in which her only role would be to wish me a good trip home.

Charlie squealed as a school of minnows darted by. “Fish, Amy! Fish!”

I hugged him close. His hair, drenched with spray from the lake, drooped on his forehead. I pushed it back.

“See, I told you not to worry,” Erin said. “I knew we’d see fish.” She splashed his chest gently—a sprinkle of water, really—as if she knew a big spray might knock Charlie down. He giggled and showered Erin back. “Sometimes, Charlie, my friend,” she told him, hiding her eyes from the water he thrust at her with his hands, “you just have to wait for what you want.” Erin laughed as Charlie splashed harder, arms in full motion now. “And if you wait long enough, you usually get it.”

I thought about how much I would miss Erin when my parents would take me home at the end of visiting day. But I had waited long enough. It was time to get what I wanted.

I waved at Dad, standing near the lake, Uncle Ed beside him. Where was my mother? I scanned the beach, alive with parents.

And where was Rory? For the first time, I wanted her to find me. I wanted her to storm into the lake and shove me. Not Charlie, of course. As much as I yearned to go home, I wouldn’t risk Charlie for my cause. But I hoped my father would see Rory attack, see her strike me for no reason. No reason except that thrashing me made her feel good. But where was she?

Erin splashed me hard. “Hey, where are you?”

“Right here.” I scooped water and got Charlie’s back, then sprayed Erin as if she had it coming, as if she were Rory.

“Well, that’s more like it. Let’s get her, Charlie!”

A curtain of water came at me. As it lowered, I spotted my mother at the far edge of the beach, shoes in hand, Rory at her side.

Chapter 14

A Liar and a Misfit

“T
hat Rory’s a nice girl. And pretty too,” my mother said as we walked back from the lake. “What a shame her parents couldn’t visit.”

“She’s not, Mom.”

“How can you say that, Amy? She’s one of the prettiest girls here.”

“She’s not nice,” I said through my teeth. Should I tell the truth now: that I filled my letters with lies about the girls and all the fun we were having?

No time to decide before she spoke again. “Well, Rory’s a lot more friendly than the other girls.” If I hadn’t been so sad, the irony of my mother’s focus on friendliness—Rory’s friendliness, no less—might have amused me. What did she know about being friendly? My mother, whose shield of ice even Erin hadn’t melted. As if my mother had moved into my brain, she continued in a whisper, “Certainly more friendly than that Erin.”

I knew what Rory was up to. She had duped my mother to protect herself. Or she had fooled my mother to get to me. “You don’t know what Rory’s really like,” I said.

But my mother didn’t give me a chance to tell her. “Maybe if you didn’t stick with that Erin all the time, Amy, you would know Rory better—Rory and the other girls. She told me what’s been going on. How the only one you’re friends with is Erin— no matter what you say in your letters—and I’m not happy about that.”

So Rory had blabbed my less-than-popular status. Less than popular with her boy-crazy gang. She had made my mother see me as the misfit, confirming what I knew she already felt. Uncle Ed wouldn’t have to tell my parents a thing. A liar and a misfit. That’s how he would want me to be seen so his secret would be safe. Who’d believe me now if I snitched on him and Patsy? Patsy, who had already charmed my father. Patsy, who my mother said was a good counselor. Words wouldn’t work to get me out of Takawanda. My only hope was for my parents to catch Rory in action.

I shuddered as we approached the cabin. But Rory wasn’t there. In Bunk 10 with Robin, I thought. Probably planning a lunch attack, so easy now that my mother was on her side. “You don’t have to keep me company while I change,” I told her, my hostile tone a surprise even to myself.

“Where else would I go?”

I said nothing as my mother followed me inside. I turned my back, hurried out of my suit, and threw on the camp uniform in record time. While I tucked in my T-shirt, my mother fiddled with the pens and pencils in my cubby, lining them up with all points facing inward.

Mrs. Hollander greeted us outside Bunk 10. “Erin’s not dressed yet,” she said. “Go on in if you want, hon. I’ll wait here with your mother.”

For an instant, I forgot about Rory as I raced up the steps to see Erin.

“Well, la-de-da.” Rory sat, fully clothed, on Robin’s bed. “Yes indeedy. Look what the wind blew in. It’s Amy with her tennis racquet. Eager to show off for visitors, huh, Amy Becker? But guess what, fruit girl? No one cares how you play.” Aware of Paula’s mother in the cabin and moms outside, Rory kept her voice low. “Fruit. Now what kind of parent brings fruit?” Rory and Robin laughed. “I wonder where her pretty mother is?” Rory whispered to my cousin, just loudly enough for me to hear.

“Who cares about Aunt Sonia?” Robin answered in full voice. “Jeez! What an outfit she chose for visiting day. Like she thought she was going to a dance or something. No wonder she sent Amy a dress for the social.”

“Stop it, you guys,” Erin said as I studied the baking tins on her bed—homemade cookies and brownies, I supposed. I pleaded with Erin to hurry so we could leave. I wasn’t looking for trouble in the cabin. I wanted trouble outside, where both of my parents would see it. I had to check the attack until lunch. “Not so fast,” Rory said as soon as Paula and her mother left the cabin. “Let’s get something straight. I’m talking to
you,
Erin. You and the fruit girl. First, we’re not your guys. And second, we’re not interested in what you have to say. Either of you.”

“Let’s go!” I held my racquet with one hand, latched on to Erin’s arm with the other.

“No. They can’t make fun of your mother that way.”

“Zip it, Hollander,” Rory hissed. “Who’s gonna stop us?”

“Come on.” I pulled Erin by the wrist.

“At least Amy’s mother showed up,” Erin shot back. “That’s more than I can say for yours.”

The sound of a crash followed us out the door. I knew what it was: a baking tin smacked at the wall. Erin’s cookies and brownies, broken and smashed, probably dotted the floor.

“What was that?” Mrs. Hollander wanted to know.

“Just Rory,” Erin answered. “It stinks, how mean she is.” “But she seems like such a nice girl,” my mother said as we

walked behind Erin and her mom. “She’s probably jealous, that’s all.” I clenched my fists as my mother kept on. “It must be hard for a camper without parents on visiting day. We should ask her to have lunch with us.”

Erin and her mother froze. “Don’t you know what’s been going on?” Mrs. Hollander turned and asked as campers and mothers, eager for lunch, hurried by at the head of the path. “If I knew that Amy hadn’t discussed it with you, then I would have told you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mother answered.

Erin’s mother locked eyes with me. She knew the truth about Rory. The truth about everything, I imagined, except about Uncle Ed. Erin had agreed not to tell that. Sure, it was okay for me to despise him, but I didn’t want the whole world in on his secret. He was family, after all. Dad’s family.

“Amy, why haven’t you told your mother about Rory?” Mrs. Hollander asked when I looked away.

“I … well … I just haven’t had a chance yet.” Seniors and mothers wandered ahead. Everyone but Rory and Robin, who stayed behind to steal goodies, no doubt.

“She has to know, hon,” Mrs. Hollander said. Her voice sounded as if she were comforting a sick child. “What about Rory?” my mother asked.

Mrs. Hollander glanced down, offering me a moment to get it out. But I didn’t know how to start. How could I explain why I hadn’t told my parents about Rory and her gang?

“I’ve been trying to tell you all morning,” I finally said. “Rory’s not nice.”

Mrs. Hollander hustled Erin ahead, leaving my mother and me behind on the now-empty path. We took a few steps in silence, the only sound the crunching of pine needles, laughter up ahead.

“And I’ve been trying to tell
you
, Amy: Rory says she tried to get to know you, but you didn’t make an effort.” My mother lowered her voice. “I suppose it’s Erin’s fault, the way she keeps you to herself. It’s obvious she’s not a popular girl.”

Anger burned in my chest. How could my mother blame Erin for my social standing? I wouldn’t let her put down the one person who had jeopardized her own summer by welcoming me on the bus. “You don’t know what goes on here.” The words spewed out. “And Erin’s the nicest person I know.”

“But she isn’t the kind of person who can help you. You never know when you’ll need your friends in order to survive, Amy.” Another clue to my mother’s history. But trapped in the present, I couldn’t think about her past. “And Erin’s just not the right girl for you to stick with,” my mother went on. “I have no use for her.” I thought I heard the period in my mother’s voice, but it was only a semicolon. She squared her shoulders and continued, her voice muted, even though Erin and Mrs. Hollander were far in front of us now. “I’m a good judge of character, Amy, and I have no use for her mother either.”

That’s when I knew I had to prove my mother wrong. We’d been waging our war for years, a war in which she had all the power. Yet she was wrong about Rory, wrong about Erin. Wrong about me. Certainly I was a better judge of character than my mother. I would make her see that, even if it wouldn’t get me out of camp. And maybe that was fine. Maybe Takawanda wasn’t worse than home, just more open in its battles. If not for Charlie, I might have wanted to stay after all. “You pays your money and you takes your chances.” Isn’t that what Clarence had said?