Elaine Wolf - Camp

We faced each other from opposite sides of the fireplace while younger seniors milled around the room, dodging folding chairs that lined the walls as if reserved for wallflower were written on them. Mr. Moose stared down on the space where the bear rug used to be.

“Well, lookie here,” Rory said, revving up for battle. “No red dress, Amy?”

The moose eyes seemed to shift, finding mine, challenging me to speak. I looked down, avoiding Rory’s stare, avoiding Mr. Moose.

“I’m talking to you, Amy Becker. Where did you dig up that faggy little outfit?”

I searched for Patsy. I wanted her to intercede. She had to be in The Lodge. She had walked us there.

“Y’all are mighty quiet,” Patsy had said to Erin and me on the path from senior camp. “Anxious about the dance, I suppose. But there’s nothin’ to be nervous about. Why, you two look so nice I’ll bet those Saginaw boys just won’t get enough o’ you gals.”

We hadn’t admitted we were nervous, not even to each other. But I knew we both were—our jitters having little to do with the Saginaw campers and everything to do with Rory.

“I asked where you got that faggy outfit,” she said again. From the corner of my eye, I caught Andy and Jed coming into The Lodge. Andy gave me a private wave, I thought, his hand not much higher than his hip.

“Amy’s outfit?” Erin answered for me as I watched the boys head toward Aunt Helen at the refreshment table. “I lent it to her.”

Rory looked me up and down, then studied Erin and barked a laugh. “Guess I could’ve figured that out.”

“Well, at least she didn’t wear the dress her mother sent,” Robin added, setting off giggles that snaked through her group. My stomach tossed around the meatballs I still tasted from dinner.

“Wouldn’t have mattered if Amy wore that dress,” Rory said once her gang settled down. “No one’s gonna dance with her anyhow.”

The Saginaw bus silenced them for a moment as it coughed its way to the back of The Lodge. Rory pulled Jessica by the arm. “They’re finally here. Come on, Jess.”

Aunt Helen darted from behind the refreshment table, where she had readied plates of cookies and pitchers of bug juice for Andy and Jed to serve. “You wait right where you are, dear,” Aunt Helen said to Rory, then glanced at the rest of us as if she just noticed we were there. “Honest to goodness, don’t you all look nice. Very nice, Robin honey.” Robin jerked back when Aunt Helen reached to fluff her hair.

“You have to excuse my mother,” my cousin announced as my aunt moved away. “She’s such an idiot. I hate her.”

It amazed me that Robin could say that aloud. Think it, yes. Didn’t I think how I hated my mother when she told me to fix my hair, when she warned Charlie not to spill his milk, when she gave my father “the look”? But I never said it to anyone.

“Robin, have you seen your father?” Aunt Helen called now from the doorway of The Lodge.

None of us had seen Uncle Ed. Other than Aunt Helen, the only adults in the room were the counselors from Bunks 7, 8, and 10. They huddled by the piano as if ready for a sing- along. Nancy had said she would stop by, but the boys arrived before she did.

We stiffened—even Rory and Jessica, I noticed—at the sound of male voices as the Saginaw campers walked toward the front of The Lodge. Then heavy footsteps on the porch. Hearty laughter.

I sang to myself to steady my nerves and to drown out my mother, who had taken up residence in my head again. I told you to wear the dress, Amy. What came without thinking was the song we’d been singing in the dining hall since the first day of camp:

“Welcome. Welcome.” Aunt Helen greeted them with a chuckle. “Come on in.”

The boys clumped in groups as we did. They glanced around trying not to be obvious, taking in the room and the girls. Aunt Helen chatted with a couple of Saginaw counselors. She scanned The Lodge as she talked, looking for her absent husband, no doubt.

But then the music started, and I lost sight of her. Jed placed a 45 on the record player set up on a table by the refreshment area. As Bobby Lewis sang “Tossin’ and Turnin’ All Night,” boys broke from their friends to choose partners. I looked down as they checked us out.

Everyone backed up to make space in the middle of the room. Robin was the first to be chosen. She danced with one of the few boys who negated our song about socials. Even Aunt Helen noticed Robin’s catch. My aunt stopped flitting around and beamed at her daughter, joined now in the center of The Lodge by assorted seniors from every cabin. Soon half the campers were bopping around.

I didn’t see Rory in the mix of dancers. “Probably dragged Jessica outside for a cigarette when nobody asked them to dance,” Erin said. “Maybe your uncle will catch them smoking and kick her out for that. All our planning, and she’ll get herself in trouble before we put ol’ Lion to the test. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Andy smiled at me when Erin and I walked toward the refreshment area, where younger seniors gathered.

“Hey, Amy,” Andy called over the “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” song. “I was hoping I’d be the first to ask you to dance.”

“Mr. B-Becker won’t l-l-like that.” Jed focused on a stack of 45s.

“But I don’t see him anywhere,” Andy said. “So put a record on and cover for me, okay?”

My heart pumped fast. I looked at Erin, eager for permission to leave her.

She smiled. “Go ahead, Ame.”

Andy clapped Jed on the back. “See if you can find the Big Bopper.”

Girls raised eyebrows as Andy came around from behind the table. He grabbed my hand and led me to the center of the room. The record started.

“Good. He got it. You ready, Amy?”

I couldn’t find words—not even a simple yes. Heat pulsed through me as our bodies moved in step to the music, in step with each other. Andy sang along to “Chantilly Lace.” He looked at me as he sang and we danced and the room spun around.

I didn’t see Rory work her way toward us. I didn’t notice Uncle Ed as he entered The Lodge, Patsy not far behind, as I would hear later.

“I told you nobody’d dance with you.” Rory’s words broke the spell. “Not a real boy anyhow. Just a pot-scrubbing twerp.”

“Well, I don’t see you dancing with any boy, Rory,” Andy hurled back. We kept moving, but in half-time now, our spirits zapped.

“It’s okay, Andy,” I lied, eager to keep the lion caged. And then it hit me, right on the Bopper’s last words. Andy was right. Rory wasn’t dancing at all. Our plan couldn’t work if she didn’t find a boy.

I had to talk to Erin, who came from one direction while Uncle Ed elbowed his way across the room from the other. “I don’t pay you to socialize with my campers, young man.”

The room quieted, even though Jed had put on another record. Andy’s eyes caught mine, then lowered in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Rory grinned as if she’d just won a contest—which she had, in a sense. Instead of us getting her in trouble, she had drawn Uncle Ed’s attention to me. And in that instant, when Andy stalked back to the refreshment table and Rory’s smile grew wider, something inside me snapped.

“We have to get her, and I don’t care what her father does,” I told Erin as we walked to the folding chairs. “We’ve got to get her with a boy, and fast.”

Erin raised her voice over Del Shannon’s “Runaway.” “Not to worry,” she said, patting my leg before she got up and scouted the room. I watched her stride across the floor, head high, shoulders back. Whatever Erin was about to do, she was sure it would work.