Elaine Wolf - Camp

I gagged at the idea as I tried to flick my mother off my shoulder. Two wrongs don’t make a right , my mother whispered in my ear as Donnie opened the boathouse door. Was my mother telling me not to go after Rory? Would she say I had gotten what I deserved: punishment for being me, for not being pretty like she was? For not being sexy like Robin, like Rory? Sure, they might not have attacked me if I had big hair and polished nails. Yet it was my mother who wouldn’t let me use rollers; my mother who told me I couldn’t wear polish if I still picked at my cuticles. I heard her voice again: Two wrongs don’t make a right, Amy.

Whose code held the truth, my mother’s or Hammurabi’s? And what about the Takawanda code? The law of the jungle: Eat or be eaten.

“Okay, you guys,” Erin said as we settled in a circle on the dank floor. “First we need a secret word.”

“What for?” Paula asked.

“For when we’re at the social,” Erin explained, “which is when I think we should get Rory in trouble. We say the word, and bingo, we get her.”

An eye for an eye. Hammurabi was right. So what if Rory’s father would abuse her? I couldn’t keep letting her get me. Camp was a jungle; I’d play by the law. Eat or be eaten. “Think about what Rory does,” I said.

“Mean things.”

“Sexy things.”

“Right.” I enjoyed the limelight for a change, enjoyed ignoring my mother’s two wrongs don’t make a right mantra. “And when Rory does those things,” I continued, “she roars.”

“That’s great, Ame.” Erin picked up my thought. “She roars like a—”

“Lion!” we shouted.

“Holy moly! That’s it,” Erin said. “Lion. Our secret word, the code for our plan. Now let’s work on it.”

Paula spoke first. “All we have to do is arrange for Mr. Becker to find Rory doing something wrong, something bad enough to get her kicked out.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Donnie said. “Rory does bad things all the time. We just have to figure out how to get her to do it when Mr. Becker’s around.”

“Do it ?” Karen said.

Fran snickered. “ It , as in sex?”

I didn’t understand this focus on sex. I expected that from Rory’s gang, but not from mine. Yet even Erin grinned. “Now we’re cooking,” she said, pulling the rubber bands from her hair. “So here’s the deal. The Saginaw social will be in The Lodge. What if we get Rory to sneak upstairs with a boy? Then we’ll get Mr. Becker to find her there doing something naughty.”

“Doing it ?”

“Having sex?”

“Well, she doesn’t have to go all the way,” Erin explained. “Just has to have her shirt open or something with a boy in a room where she’s not supposed to be.”

“And how do we arrange that?” Paula asked.

“Well, we could tell Rory we’re sorry we haven’t been getting along better, and—”

“Or maybe I could tell her I’m sorry I got her in trouble in the dining hall over that stupid piece of cake,” Donnie said. “I could say I’m making it up to her by arranging a little privacy for her and the boy of her choice.”

“A piece for a piece,” Karen added. “That’s great.”

Fran elbowed her. “That’s disgusting!”

I couldn’t admit I didn’t fully understand what they were saying. If the girls found out how little I knew about this type of stuff, they might not want me in their group. I heard my mother’s voice again: You don’t know anything, Amy. Nothing. I realized she was right. I didn’t know anything. And if I admitted it, I’d have no one.

“It’ll never work,” Paula said. “First, we won’t be able to get Rory upstairs without anyone seeing. And second, even if we do, how’re we gonna get Mr. Becker up there to find her?”

If I helped with the plan, they would like me even better. If I helped with the plan, they wouldn’t know how stupid I was. I blurted out a better idea. “Maybe we could get Rory to go outside with a boy while we block the door so no one sees them leave, and then we could tell Uncle Ed we hear noises or something. Get him to go out and find them.”

“Ame, you’re brilliant,” Erin said. “So Operation Lion, ready to go. Amy and I can work out the details. The rest of you will just block the door when we say the word. So… the bell’s gonna ring soon. You guys go back to senior camp while Amy and I finalize the plan. And remember: top secret.”

“No problem.” Donnie spoke for all of us. “The lion is caged.”

“Not to worry,” Erin told me after the others left, closing the door behind them. “You and me, Ame. We’ll make it work. Pretty soon Rory will have roared her last roar.”

Erin put a hand on my shoulder as we moseyed toward the door. It opened before we got there. “Well, look who’s here, Ed,” Patsy purred. “Mr. Becker and I were just takin’ a little walk, and we thought we saw some gals headin’ out from here. So what are y’all doin’ in the boathouse?”

“Nothing. Just goofing off,” Erin answered.

Uncle Ed’s eyes fixed on mine. “This boathouse is off-limits, Amy. I don’t expect to see you here again. And by the way, I just spoke to your father. He says there hasn’t been much mail from you. So I suggest you use rest hour for letter-writing from now on. That’s the least you could do for your parents and your brother.”

Rory pulled a note from our mail folder. “Well, lookie here. It says there’s a package for Amy.” She held the paper high in the air. “Wonder what Mommy and Daddy sent their precious little girl.”

I knew what it was—certainly not a care package from my mother. I had asked Dad to send my light blue Bermudas with my blue and white shirt, and my navy pedal pushers with the madras top I had begged my mother to buy for my birthday last fall. I’d heard Rory and Jessica planning their outfits for the Saginaw social as if choosing from a closet of possibilities. All I had were my green camp shorts and Takawanda shirts. And though Erin had told me not to worry—I could borrow something from her—I wanted my own clothes.

“Ease up, Rory,” Donnie said. “Just give us the package slip.”

“ Us ? You and Amy are an us now? Well, la-de-da. Always figured you had better taste, Donnie-girl.”

“Just give it to them,” Fran muttered.

“Oh, stuff it.” Rory wouldn’t quit.

“You don’t need that paper, Amy,” Karen said. “Just go to the gatehouse and tell them you’re picking up a package. No one’ll ask for a slip.”

“Is that so?” Rory still held the paper as she approached my bed. “Well, what if I told you, Amy Becker, that they won’t give you your package without this ticket? The rules are different this year, girls: no tickie, no washie. Catch my drift?” Rory waved the paper like a flag. “And look who’s got the slip.”

“Not anymore you don’t.” Donnie moved behind Rory and swiped the form, then raced outside. “Amy, meet me in Bunk 10,” she called from the stoop.

Rory leaned forward, hands braced on my bed. Her eyes gripped mine. I looked down.

“What’s the matter? Never had a staring contest?”

My vocal cords stuck.

“Ah, cat got your tongue again, I see. Well, I’ve got ways to make you talk, Amy Becker. After your friends leave, that is.” Rory relaxed her hold on my bed and turned toward Fran and Karen. “Time for you to fly the coop so Amy and I can have a private little powwow.”

“Yeah,” Jessica said, “a powwow with someone who won’t even talk. You’re a riot, Rory.”