Elaine Wolf - Camp

“Please, Amy.” Nancy pushed harder. “You need to tell me what happened.”

I swallowed hard. Don’t talk. Don’t feel.

“I have to know what they did,” Nancy tried again.

“I’m sorry,” I answered, invoking my mother’s tone. “I can’t talk about it.”

“Not talking won’t make it go away, Amy,” Nancy said. “Not talking won’t make it all right. You have to tell me.”

I couldn’t look at her. Instead, I took in Nancy’s cabin, a miniature Bunk 9, save the shades at the windows, real windows. And a fan, propped on a wooden table in the corner. A sink on one wall, mirrored medicine cabinet over it. A weathered dresser with clipboards on top. No living out of a trunk like a camper. I longed to haul over my sleeping bag and move into the head counselor’s cabin for the rest of the season. No more threats. No more Rory.

“I’m all right,” I lied. “I just don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go home.”

Erin reached across Nancy to pat my knee. “You can’t go home. I mean, even if you could, you can’t. ’Cause then Rory wins, don’t you see? ’Cause then she believes she has power over everyone.

“And you can’t go home ’cause you’re my friend. I knew it as soon as I saw you at the bus, when I saw you with your brother.” Erin kicked her sneakers to the floor and pulled her legs up onto Nancy’s blue blanket. “So you can’t go home,” she went on, angling herself toward Nancy and me, “’cause you’re gonna be my best camp friend.”

I breathed in, long and deep, filling myself with the promise of friendship.

“See, Nance,” Erin said. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of her.”

“Good. You can start by telling me what happened last night.”

“I left before they did anything,” Erin answered. “Honest. I didn’t see it.” She glanced down for a moment, then turned toward me again. Tears filled her eyes, which darted around Nancy’s cabin as she spoke. “I’m really sorry, Amy. I should have pulled you away with me,” Erin explained. “But I was scared Rory would come after us and hurt you even more. The only reason I went to the stupid lake in the first place was I thought I’d be able to help you there. But Rory had it all planned. We couldn’t stop her. Honest, I tried. And she said if I warned you or told anyone, she’d get both of us. And she said she’d make it even worse if she thought anyone knew. And I really wanted to tell you, but I knew she’d find out. Somehow she’d know. So I couldn’t say anything.” Erin slowed for a breath. “I’m really, really sorry.” She let her eyes find mine as Nancy stood.

Erin and I got up as well. Erin hugged me, and the only thing I could do was cry.

“So you’re still not going to tell me what happened?” Nancy asked.

Now that I allowed myself to feel, I wanted Nancy to know what Rory had done. I wanted Rory kicked out of camp. But then Rory would know I had told. And she’d find a way to get me before she’d start packing. “I’m okay,” I said once more.

Nancy’s arms drifted back to our shoulders. “I’ll let you go in two shakes. But about last night…well, I suppose I can’t force you to talk about it. So I just want you to hear this: I’m always available to both of you. You come and visit anytime. And I’ll make sure the staff keeps an eye on Rory.”

“Thanks, Nance.” Erin slipped from Nancy’s arm, then hugged her while I stood there, wanting to.

I was as surprised to see cousin Robin at the tennis courts as she seemed to see me. With all her complaining about tennis lessons in the winter, I expected her to sign up for other activities with Rory’s gang—nature or drama, perhaps, where you wouldn’t sweat or mess your hair. Arts and crafts maybe, where I heard you could make earrings and pins using tweezers to pick up tiny enamel bits, guaranteed not to chip your nail polish.

Jody sent the juniors to the hard courts with two counselors, then huddled with the seniors by the three red clay ones. “We’re just gonna do a little warm-up hitting today,” she said as she scanned our group. “See how you all play.”

Robin and I, assigned to the same court, walked silently next to each other. How could you, Robin? I wanted to scream. My cousin turned toward me for a second, as if I had asked the question aloud. I felt like my clothes were invisible, leaving me as naked as I’d been the night before.

Jody reached into a shopping cart brimming with tennis balls. She tossed five or six our way. Two girls from Bunk 8 sprinted to the other side of the net.

Robin bounced a ball as if it were a Spalding. A my name is Alice, and my husband’s name is Al. A few years earlier, we were giggling together, turning our legs up and over on the bounce. How could Robin have sided with Rory?

My cousin took her time as if sorting through thoughts. Ready to apologize maybe?

“Come on. Let’s start!” our opponents yelled.

Robin hooked me with her eyes. “How ’bout we forget this hitting nonsense and play a game?” she said.

“But Jody told us just to hit,” I answered. Say it, Robin. Say you’re sorry.

“Little Miss Perfect, always does what she’s told,” Robin said instead. “Goody-two-shoes Amy. And then my father wants to know why I’m not helpful, why I don’t make honor roll. Well, at least I have friends. At least I’m popular. And I sure would have yelled and fought harder at the lake.”

How could Robin think the initiation had been my fault? That’s one thing my cousin and my mother would agree on: They’d say I was to blame.

“Come on!” the Bunk 8 girls hollered. “Hit the ball already!”

“What’s the rush?” Robin asked. “We’ve got two full periods.”

“Let’s just hit,” I said.

“Why? ’Cause that’s what the counselor said?” Robin’s stare gave me goose bumps. “Well, I for one don’t care what Jody says,” she went on. “We’re gonna play this game right, show those Bunk 8 campers who rules.” Robin watched me hug the baseline. “So get ready.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not. You need to be up by the net.”

“Why?”

“’Cause that’s where you’re supposed to stand when your partner serves. Jesus, Amy, if you don’t even know that, you don’t belong in intensive.”

I felt as if my cousin had rammed the ball down my throat as I inched toward the service line. I had played only singles. How far up was I supposed to go? Say you’re sorry, Robin. Say you’re sorry. The words repeated in my head.

I turned to see Robin holding the ball in the air, signaling our opponents. “I don’t need a warm-up. These are good.”

Ever play doctor with your cousin? Rory’s question rattled in my brain.

Hit the ball, Amy. Smack it hard. It’s Rory’s face, I imagined. Her perfect hair, her made-up eyes.

“Wow! Good shot!” one of the girls called when I slammed a forehand. “Where’d you learn to hit like that?”

“Good question,” Robin said.

“My father taught me.”

“Uncle Lou? Well, go figure.” Robin studied the ball for a moment. “Just another Becker secret, I guess: your father teaching you tennis. And all this time I thought it was Aunt Sonia who had all the secrets.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. You know damn well what I mean. All those things about your mother we’re not allowed to talk about.”

What did Robin know about my mother? What things? What secrets?

Hit the ball, Amy. Smack it hard. It’s Robin now. Her hair rollers and four-poster bed. Her record player, which my mother said I didn’t need for the pop music I listened to on the radio. A record player would be too expensive.