Elaine Wolf - Camp

In the distance, Charlie and my father stood by the junior camp tetherball. Charlie followed the game with his head as if watching a Ping-Pong match. I told my mother I would get them, but her raised eyebrows stopped me. She didn’t want to stay with Uncle Ed any more than I did, and she squirmed around the Hollanders as if Erin’s family had an itchy rash. “Excuse me, Ed.” The chill in her voice made me shake. “I need to let Lou know we’re here.”

Erin jumped up as we got close, but Mrs. Hollander held her back. “No, baby. Let’s give Amy a little more time with her mother,” I thought I heard Mrs. Hollander say as I waved to Erin. Mrs. Hollander probably thought I’d been reporting on what Rory had done. Erin’s mom couldn’t know that my mother had decided all the problems were Erin’s fault for sticking close to me, or my fault for not being popular.

“I just wish you’d choose other friends. Like Rory,” my mother said when we wove between blankets and towels spread on the lawn. We skirted the clothed buffet table as we headed for Charlie and my father. “You could do so much better, Amy.”

Nothing I could say would convince my mother she was wrong. But she would see for herself soon enough, I believed. Rory would attack during lunch. I was as sure of it as I was that Charlie would race into my arms when he saw us coming.

My father waved as we approached. Charlie sped toward me until the sound of a dog halted his flight. Not a deep bark like Zeus’s, the Sparbers’ black Lab, but the squealing yap of an itty-bitty thing, as Robin had warned. I ran to my brother and scooped him up. “It’s okay, buddy,” I crooned as I hugged Charlie, while I scanned younger campers and parents heading for picnic places. I didn’t see the dog, though I knew who I’d see where the barking came from. “Hi, Mrs. Becker!” Rory yelled before my father reached us. “All set for lunch?” Robin stood beside her and grinned.

I turned away and hugged Charlie harder. “It’s all right now.” I whispered my promise: “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Why don’t we invite Rory to join us for lunch?” my mother suggested when my father caught up with us. “Give Erin’s family a little time to themselves.”

“That’s up to Amy. This is her day.” I saw the strain in my father’s smile as he looked at me and Charlie. “What do you say, honey?”

“No. I want to sit with the Hollanders.” Charlie’s arms tightened around me. “Just the Hollanders.”

“Okay then.” My father patted Charlie’s back. “The dog’s not here, son, and it’s time for lunch now. So let go of Amy.”

“No!” Charlie shrieked, not loudly enough to cause a commotion, but forcefully enough so I knew he wouldn’t budge. I carried him to the picnic area, now jammed with families. At first no one seemed to notice the eight-year-old who clung to me. Yet for a moment, I wished my father had heeded my letter and left Charlie home. But all thoughts vanished when I heard snickers behind us, clear as the bell that would open the buffet. I knew who it was: Rory and Robin, celebrating the success of the dog scare.

“I still think we should ask Rory to join us,” my mother said as we headed toward the Hollanders, “since her parents aren’t here.”

“Sonia, please, Sonia. Amy wants to be with Erin. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is she doesn’t give herself a chance to know anyone else. No wonder she doesn’t have friends.” My mother spoke as if I weren’t even there.

“Of course she has friends. You read her letters.” My father turned to me. “And your friends are lucky to have you. Especially Erin. She seems real nice, by the way, and so do her parents.”

“They’re so ordinary,” my mother snapped.

Erin ran over to us. “Hey, Charlie, my friend. Where you been?” She tousled his hair the way I always did, then peeled his arm from my neck and took his hand. Charlie lowered himself and, surrounded by Erin and me, hunkered down at our picnic spot. My father found his place next to Mr. Hollander. My mother positioned herself at the edge of the blanket, her legs tucked to the side like Patsy’s at our ice cream party.

I jumped at the sound of the lunch bell.

“Oh my God!” Erin slapped my knee. “Look who’s serving!”

Charlie’s hands clamped my ankle when I got up to scan the table. Junior counselors and counselors-in-training stood behind platters of fried chicken and baskets filled with rolls. And next to the youngest staff and CITs, Andy and Jed in white aprons.

“Who’s hungry?” Erin teased as she released Charlie’s hands and pulled him to his feet.

“Stop it. Come on,” I said, not wanting my mother to know about Andy.

“What’s the secret, girls?” my father asked. “Someone likes those fellows over there?”

“The kitchen boys are so nice, Mr. Becker,” Erin answered.

“Come on. Stop.” I whined my protest, but my father goaded Erin on.

“So which one’s the lucky guy? Or are they both?”

I hung my head.

“That good-lookin’ one on the right,” Erin said, “that’s Andy. And he’s really nice, and he likes Amy a lot.”

“Well, that’s great. Shows he’s got good taste.” My father lifted my chin. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey. Why, I’ll bet he’s a great guy.”

My mother shook her head as she rose. “He’s a kitchen boy, Lou.”

Erin held Charlie’s hand when we headed for the lunch line. She steered us toward Andy and Jed’s end of the buffet table. Mrs. Hollander followed, while Mr. Hollander and my parents trailed behind. “Andy, that’s his name, right? He’s awfully cute,” Erin’s mother whispered.

I took a plate for Charlie and one for myself as we inched along the table. “Hey, Amy.” Andy smiled. “I was hoping I’d see you.” He surveyed the crowd, scouting for Uncle Ed, I was sure.

Jed stabbed a chicken breast. “How b-b-bout this?”

“Thanks. That’s fine for me.” I held out Charlie’s plate.

“And my brother would like a drumstick, if you’ve got one.”

“I d-d-don’t th-think we have any more.”

“I’ll find one,” Andy offered. He dashed to the other end of the table before I could say it wasn’t necessary.

“Holy moly!” Erin’s tap on my shoulder nearly caused me to drop a plate. “He’s crazy about you. Isn’t he great, Mom?” I peeked around for Mrs. Hollander’s answer. And that’s when I saw Uncle Ed. He sidled next to my father on the lunch line. “What’s the hold up here?” Uncle Ed boomed. Then spotting Andy with a plate of chicken legs, Uncle Ed asked, “What did I tell you about staying at your post and keeping the line moving?”

I felt my uncle’s eyes on me as Andy forked two drumsticks onto Charlie’s plate. “Let’s keep moving,” Uncle Ed ordered. “Lots of hungry people here.” Andy looked down when I thanked him.

He’s a kitchen boy, Amy. I turned, but my mother wasn’t behind me. Yet I heard her voice while I balanced Charlie’s plate and mine.

“So, Ame,” Erin said, as we settled on the blanket ahead of our parents, “didya finally tell your mother about Rory and everything? My mom couldn’t believe your mother didn’t know what’s been happening.”

“I tried, but my mother says it’s my fault.”

“ Your fault? How could it be your fault?” Erin twirled a pigtail. “Guess your mother still doesn’t know what’s really going on then.”

Right, I thought. You don’t know anything, Mom. Nothing.