Elaine Wolf - Camp

“I know enough to say you don’t know how to pick the right friends, Amy.”

“I know more than you think I do.”

“And what does that mean?”

Uncle Ed and my mother. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory came back. “Never mind,” I answered as we entered Bunk 9.

Patsy faced the wall when she changed into her bathing suit. The presence of mothers must have made her modest. Usually Patsy stood bare-chested by her bed a bit longer than necessary, showing off her body—a lesson on what we should aspire to, I figured. This time, though, it was Rory who showed off. She stood facing us, pulling up her suit in slow motion.

Most of the mothers chose not to put suits on. Let the fathers swim with their daughters, they probably decided. Fathers, who wouldn’t care how they’d look coming out of the lake. Fathers, who wouldn’t have to worry about flattening their hair with bathing caps.

What I worried about as I put on my tank suit was what Rory was planning for Charlie. Clearly, she had played up to my mother for a reason. My mother, who sat at the foot of my bed, her legs crossed as if she were ready to take dictation. I changed facing my robe and laundry bag, avoiding my mother’s glance. Rory was gone before I turned around.

“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.

“That 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.”