Lorrie Moore - 100 Years of the Best American Short Stories

“C’mon, everybody,” Arnetta said after Mrs. Margolin left. “Time for us to wash up.”

Everyone watched Mrs. Hedy closely, wondering whether she would insist on coming with us since it was night, making a fight with Troop 909 nearly impossible. Troop 909 would soon be in the bathroom, washing their faces, brushing their teeth — completely unsuspecting of our ambush.

“We won’t be long,” Arnetta said. “We’re old enough to go to the restroom by ourselves.”

Mrs. Hedy pursed her lips at this dilemma. “Well, I guess you Brownies are almost Girl Scouts, right?”

“Right!”

“Just one more badge,” Drema said.

“And about,” Octavia droned, “a million more cookies to sell.” Octavia looked at all of us. Now’s our chance , her face seemed to say, but our chance to do what I didn’t exactly know.

Finally, Mrs. Hedy walked to the doorway where Octavia stood, dutifully waiting to say good-bye and looking bored doing it. Mrs. Hedy held Octavia’s chin. “You’ll be good?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“And remember to pray for me and your father? If I’m asleep when you get back?”

“Yes, Mama.”

When the other girls had finished getting their toothbrushes and washcloths and flashlights for the group restroom trip, I was drawing pictures of tiny birds with too many feathers. Daphne was sitting on her sleeping bag, reading.

“You’re not going to come?” Octavia asked.

Daphne shook her head.

“I’m also gonna stay, too,” I said. “I’ll go to the restroom when Daphne and Mrs. Hedy go.”

Arnetta leaned down toward me and whispered so that Mrs. Hedy, who had taken over Mrs. Margolin’s task of counting Popsicle sticks, couldn’t hear. “No, Snot. If we get in trouble, you’re going to get in trouble with the rest of us.”

We made our way through the darkness by flashlight. The tree branches that had shaded us just hours earlier, along the same path, now looked like arms sprouting menacing hands. The stars sprinkled the sky like spilled salt. They seemed fastened to the darkness, high up and holy, their places fixed and definite as we stirred beneath them.

Some, like me, were quiet because we were afraid of the dark; others were talking like crazy for the same reason.

“Wow,” Drema said, looking up. “Why are all the stars out here? I never see stars back on Oneida Street.”

“It’s a camping trip, that’s why,” Octavia said. “You’re supposed to see stars on camping trips.”

Janice said, “This place smells like the air freshener my mother uses.”

“These woods are pine ,” Elise said. “Your mother probably uses pine air freshener.”

Janice mouthed an exaggerated “Oh,” nodding her head as though she just then understood one of the world’s great secrets.

No one talked about fighting. Everyone was afraid enough just walking through the infinite deep of the woods. Even without seeing anyone’s face, I could tell this wasn’t about Daphne being called a nigger. The word that had started it all seemed melted now into some deeper, unnameable feeling. Even though I didn’t want to fight, was afraid of fighting, I felt as though I were part of the rest of the troop, as though I were defending something. We trudged against the slight incline of the path, Arnetta leading the way. I wondered, looking at her back, what she could be thinking.

“You know,” I said, “their leader will be there. Or they won’t even be there. It’s dark already. Last night the sun was still in the sky. I’m sure they’re already finished.”

“Whose flashlight is this?” Arnetta said, shaking the weakening beam of the light she was holding. “It’s out of batteries.”

Octavia handed Arnetta her flashlight. And that’s when I saw it. The bathroom was just ahead.

But the girls were there. We could hear them before we could see them.

“Octavia and I will go in first so they’ll think there’s just two of us. Then wait till I say, ‘We’re gonna teach you a lesson,’” Arnetta said. “Then bust in. That’ll surprise them.”

“That’s what I was supposed to say,” Janice said.

Arnetta went inside, Octavia next to her. Janice followed, and the rest of us waited outside.

They were in there for what seemed like whole minutes, but something was wrong. Arnetta hadn’t given the signal yet. I was with the girls outside when I heard one of the Troop 909 girls say, “NO. That did NOT happen!”

That was to be expected, that they’d deny the whole thing. What I hadn’t expected was the voice in which the denial was said. The girl sounded as though her tongue were caught in her mouth. “That’s a BAD word!” the girl continued. “We don’t say BAD words!”

“Let’s go in,” Elise said.

“No,” Drema said. “I don’t want to. What if we get beat up?”

“Snot?” Elise turned to me, her flashlight blinding. It was the first time anyone had asked my opinion, though I knew they were just asking because they were afraid.

“I say we go inside, just to see what’s going on.”

“But Arnetta didn’t give us the signal,” Drema said. “She’s supposed to say, ‘We’re going to teach you a lesson,’ and I didn’t hear her say it.”

“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s just go in.”

We went inside. There we found the white girls, but about five girls were huddled up next to one big girl. I instantly knew she was the owner of the voice we’d heard. Arnetta and Octavia inched toward us as soon as we entered.

“Where’s Janice?” Elise asked, then we heard a flush. “Oh.”

“I think,” Octavia said, whispering to Elise, “they’re retarded.”

“We ARE NOT retarded!” the big girl said, though it was obvious that she was. That they all were. The girls around her began to whimper.

“They’re just pretending,” Arnetta said, trying to convince herself. “I know they are.”

Octavia turned to Arnetta. “Arnetta. Let’s just leave.”

Janice came out of a stall, happy and relieved, then she suddenly remembered her line, pointed to the big girl, and said, “We’re gonna teach you a lesson.”

“Shut up, Janice,” Octavia said, but her heart was not in it. Arnetta’s face was set in a lost, deep scowl. Octavia turned to the big girl, and said loudly, slowly, as if they were all deaf, “We’re going to leave. It was nice meeting you, okay? You don’t have to tell anyone that we were here. Okay?”

“Why not?” said the big girl, like a taunt. When she spoke, her lips did not meet, her mouth did not close. Her tongue grazed the roof of her mouth, like a little pink fish. “You’ll get in trouble. I know. I know.”

Arnetta got back her old cunning. “If you said anything, then you’d be a tattletale.”

The girl looked sad for a moment, then perked up quickly. A flash of genius crossed her face: “I like tattletale.”

“It’s all right, girls. It’s gonna be all right!” the 909 troop leader said. It was as though someone had instructed all of Troop 909 to cry at once. The troop leader had girls under her arm, and all the rest of the girls crowded about her. It reminded me of a hog I’d seen on a field trip, where all the little hogs would gather about the mother at feeding time, latching on to her teats. The 909 troop leader had come into the bathroom shortly after the big girl threatened to tell. Then the ranger came, then, once the ranger had radioed the station, Mrs. Margolin arrived with Daphne in tow.

The ranger had left the restroom area, but everyone else was huddled just outside, swatting mosquitoes.

“Oh. They will apologize,” Mrs. Margolin said to the 909 troop leader, but Mrs. Margolin said this so angrily, I knew she was speaking more to us than to the other troop leader. “When their parents find out, every one a them will be on punishment.”