Just a Boy and a Girl in a Little Canoe Page 2

  Bunk 6. Right here.

  There are two pretty girls my age standing on the porch. One looks familiar—I bet she’s Lis, the one who was here when I was a camper, too. She’s Asian American, with light smooth skin, and she’s wearing her straight black hair in a low ponytail. The other girl is shorter, tan, super thin, and has spiral curls in a loose bun on top of her head. They’re wearing tank tops and ripped jean shorts. They both look sweaty. They study me as I step up the stairs.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to make my voice sound extra cheerful and not at all nervous. “I’m Sam.”

  “I’m Talia,” says the curly-haired one. “Your co-counselor.” I can feel her looking me up and down, glaring.

  Why is she looking at me like that? Does she know about my nickname? Do they all know? Do they not like me already? Get it together, Rosenspan.

  I cross my arms tightly and then try to force myself to relax. “Nice to meet you,” I say. I push my sunglasses to the top of my head. I feel a bit like I’m standing in front of them in my underwear. The back of my neck feels tight.

  “I’m Alissa,” the familiar-looking girl says. “But call me Lis. You’ve been here before, yeah?”

  “I was here for one year as a camper,” I say quietly. Hopefully she doesn’t remember me.

  I study the porch. There are already four brightly colored towels hanging over the railing. There’s a poster on the left side that says “Welcome, 6A!” in bubble letters and glitter. Then it says “Counselors: Talia and Sam” and lists a bunch of girls’ names. “Francie. Shira. Emma C. Emma F. Lily. Prague.”

  I guess I’m in 6A.

  “Prague?” I ask. “Is that a nickname?”

  Lis laughs. “No! It’s one hundred percent real. Her brother’s name is Barcelona.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “It totally is,” Lis says. “He’s in Bunk Eight. Senior.”

  I laugh. Talia doesn’t. Her arms are crossed and she’s still kind of glaring at me like I’ve done something to offend her, even though I just met her ten seconds ago.

  On the left side of the bunk there’s a second poster that says, “Welcome, 6B! Counselors: Lis and Janelle,” and lists five names.

  “We have one less kid than you,” Lis says. “Although two of our kids are only seven, so it sucks to be us.”

  “I’ll show you where you’re sleeping,” Talia says tightly, and opens the door to the cabin.

  Great. She hates me already. I follow her.

  “Danish has her own room on the right, since she’s head staff and apparently needs her privacy, unlike us. The four of us are here.” She pushes aside a hanging white bedsheet and steps inside the counselors’ room, which is narrow and long. In the front part, there are two parallel single beds on metal frames, about three feet apart. One has a sleeping bag on it already and is under a window. “You and Janelle are here,” she says.

  “I guess that one is mine?” I ask, pointing to the bare one.

  “Yes,” Talia snaps.

  Seriously, what the heck is up with her? Did I run over her cat on my way into camp?

  In the far back of the room, there’s a bunk bed pushed against the wall. The mattresses are both made up with sheets and pretty comforters.

  “So why were you late?” Talia asks as Lis steps into the counselors’ room behind her.

  “I told Danish I had an exam,” I say. “But honestly, it was because my boyfriend is leaving for Rome today. Don’t tell?” Eli had convinced me that missing a day of pre-camp wasn’t a big deal. And I’d wanted to spend the extra night with him. But I didn’t want Danish to know I had blown it off. I wanted her to like me. I wanted everyone at camp to like me.

  “We won’t,” Lis says, biting her thumbnail. “How long have you been together?”

  “Almost a year,” I say.

  “Oh wow, forever,” Lis says. “So why’s he going to Europe without you?”

  “He’s traveling with his cousin. And I don’t have the money.”

  “Pictures, please,” she says.

  I see Talia glare at her. Is she mad that Lis is not being a bitch to me?

  I pull up a selfie that we took last night and show them. His brown eyes are squinting as he smiles at the camera. Our cheeks are pressed against each other.

  “OMG, you guys are adorable together. He’s so cute,” Lis says.

  “He’s cute,” Talia concedes, but her arms are still crossed.

  “Yes,” I say, smiling. “He is.”

  “Did you print any out?” Lis asks. “You should hang them by your bed.”

  “I forgot to,” I say, wishing I were the type of girl who remembered to do stuff like that. “But he promised to send me postcards. I’ll hang those.”

  Eli promised a postcard from every stop. And we are still going to talk all the time. And text. As much as we can.

  “So you used to go here?” Talia asks, moving into her section of the room. Lis follows behind her.

  “Um. Yeah. Just for one year.” I sit down on my mattress. It sags.

  “Wait, how old are you?” Lis asks. “One year older than me?”

  “Nineteen. Yeah. I’m at NYU now,” I add, trying to distract her. Nickname? What nickname? Look over there, a squirrel! “Where are you two going next year?”

  “I didn’t get in anywhere good, so I’m taking the year off to work at my mom’s office—she’s in real estate—and then I’m going to reapply. But Talia’s going to Penn. She’s a smarty pants. Do you like NYU?”

  “I love it,” I say. I love my classes. I love my boyfriend. I love my friends. New York has become home. I look around the room. “I guess I should make my bed. What are we supposed to be doing now exactly?”

  “It’s Dinner Washup,” Talia says. “So, nothing. Then after dinner we have a bonfire. You missed most of the unpacking.”

  “The kids’ stuff is already here?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we got their duffels on Thursday.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember that. But the staff unpacks everything for them?”

  “Just for the juniors,” Talia says. “You don’t want them unpacking themselves; they’re a mess. They can barely remember to brush their teeth.”

  “You should show her the rest of the cabin,” Lis says, biting her thumbnail again.

  “I was in Bunk Six when I was a kid,” I say. “But my memory is foggy.”

  “Come on,” Talia says. She pushes through the white sheet, disappearing into the main hallway.

  The cabin is divided in half with a wall down the middle: 6A on one side, 6B on the other. Both sides have beds in them and windows on the outside wall. I follow her to the left.

  Four of the eight 6A beds are made. Their mattresses are all decked out in colorful comforters and little welcome mats by their beds. Most of them are Disney. Elsa. Anna. Moana. I’m hoping Shira has a She-Ra: Princess of Power comforter, but she doesn’t. She went Star Wars. I love Star Wars, so I give her a mental thumbs-up anyway.

  “Oh, wow,” I say to Talia. “You did so much!”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I did.”

  I hadn’t known that coming late would mean more work for my co. I just thought I’d be skipping the get-to-know-you games.

  So that’s why she’s being such a bitch to me. She hasn’t heard anything about me as a camper, she’s just pissed. She had to unpack all by herself. I feel like a jerk. I am a jerk. Here I am wanting to impress everyone, and I’m making enemies already.

  “I am so sorry,” I say, my cheeks burning. “Seriously. I completely forgot that we had to unpack the kids. And you did them all! How can I make it up to you?”

  Her face softens. “It’s okay. There are still two kids left.”

  “I’ll do them now. You go relax! Take a nap or something. Or a shower.”

  Talia raises an eyebrow. “I look that great, huh?”

  I flush. “Oh, I just mean—”

  “Kidding. I know I look like shit. After a day of camp my hair has puffed
up. But anyway, we have more unpacking time tomorrow. After swim tests. I’ll take a nap then. And you can make the chore wheel.”

  I shudder. Swim tests. As a camper I came up with every excuse possible to avoid going in the water. Headache. Earache. Not because of swimming—I’m a good swimmer—but because I knew I looked different from the other girls in my bathing suit, and during the test, all eyes would be on me.

  “I forgot about swim tests,” I say.

  “Swimming is the worst. But the counselor tests are in the pool, at least. Come on,” she says, and leads me into the cubby room next. It’s a windowless room with a door out the back. Almost all the wooden cubbies are filled with tiny clothes, perfectly folded into squares.

  “You did an amazing job,” I say.

  “Thanks,” she says, looking pleased. “Lis and I had the nine-year-olds last year, but I remember some of these kids from Bunk Three. Prague is adorable. She’s a riot. Seriously cute. I don’t know Emma C., it’s her first year, but her cousin is here and Emma is supposedly a super athlete. She’s here on scholarship. Her dad died a few years ago and they had no insurance and she applied and the camp took her for free. Emma F. is new too, but her brother is a senior. She’s adopted, he isn’t. Fancy was here last year and is a total witch. Mean girl in the making. Just look at her clothes.” She points to the cubby across from us. “She brought Dolce and Gabbana T-shirts. To camp! She’s eight!”

  “Her name is Fancy?” I ask.

  “It’s really Francie. But come on. That was such an easy nickname.”

  I am not giving any kid a nickname.

  “Who brings Dolce and Gabbana T-shirts to camp? They’ll be covered in blue paint and chocolate pudding in four days max.”

  I laugh.

  “You laugh now, but these kids are gross.” She cracks a smile, and I see she has two dimples. She has a perfectly round face. Like a doll.

  “The bathroom is right there?” I ask, pointing to the next room over.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Warning, we got the teeny-tiny kid toilets. Ugh, I wish they’d given me my kids from last year. Or any inters. Or even seniors. Any seniors. Juniors are the worst.”

  There are three stalls on one side of the room, and two sinks and two mirrors on the other. Counselors share with the kids.

  “Be right back,” I say.

  The stall is small. And the toilet is definitely lower than a regular toilet. I feel a bit like Snow White.

  There are names all over the back of the bathroom wall from previous years.

  CS + TH forever.

  Kayla Novak was here but now she’s gone.

  She left her name to carry on.

  Those who knew her knew her well.

  Those who didn’t can go to hell!

  Lis Katzenberg was here!

  Lis! I’m not sure if Lis already wrote her name on the first day of pre-camp or if it’s from last year.

  I flush and head to the sink. Talia is already gone. I turn on the hot water handle and feel the shock of cold. Oh, right, there is no hot water, only cold. How had I forgotten about that too?

  I head back to the staff room and step inside. Lis and Talia are stripping off their clothes.

  “We’re running to the showers before dinner,” Talia says with a teasing grin. “Since you think I need one.”

  “I don’t! I—!”

  “She does need a shower,” Lis says. “So do I.”

  “Enjoy your city look, Sam,” Talia says. “It’ll be gone in an hour!”

  My “city look.” Funny. I blew my hair straight this morning. I probably won’t be able to get it this way again for the rest of the summer.

  “When’s dinner?” I ask.

  “In an hour,” Lis says.

  Eli’s flight leaves at seven, which means he’ll be boarding soon. I need to say goodbye. I look at my phone. Still no service. “Wait, guys, is there Wi-Fi? I’m not getting cell service here.”

  “Only in the office,” Talia says. “Not in the bunks.”

  “Crap,” I say, tensing. “I want to reach my boyfriend before he takes off.”

  “You can get a signal by the showers,” Lis says. “A faint one, but better than nothing. I’ll show you in a sec.”

  “Still no showers in the bunks, huh?” I ask.

  Talia shakes her head. “The senior girls have one. I can’t believe we got stuck with juniors again.”

  I sit back on the bed and wait for Lis and Talia to put on their bathrobes and flip-flops.

  “So where’s Janelle?” I ask.

  “She said she wanted to take a swim,” Lis says, and snort-laughs, looking at Talia.

  I raise my eyebrow. “What’s her story?”

  Talia picks up her shower bucket. “Let’s just say I lucked out.”

  “Talia!” Lis says.

  “I did,” Talia says. “Sam seems totally normal and Janelle is . . . well . . . a little freaky?”

  Me. I’m normal.

  They have anointed me as normal.

  Woot!

  Still, I remember what it was like to be called freaky.

  “What is normal, exactly?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. “Is there such a thing?”

  “There definitely is,” Lis says, lowering her voice. “And she is not it. Look what’s in her cubby! Tube tops!”

  “What’s wrong with tube tops?” I ask. “I don’t have any, but why do we not approve?”

  “She doesn’t shave her armpits,” Lis says, and wrinkles her nose.

  Plenty of my friends at college aren’t so into shaving. “Maybe she’s making a statement?” I say.

  “A gross one,” Lis says, and cackles.

  “Lis,” Talia says. “For all you know, Sam doesn’t shave her armpits either.”

  Lis turns to me. “Do you?”

  I admit, “I got them waxed in New York.”

  “Smart,” Talia says. She sits down beside me. “In all honesty, we were worried. But I can tell I like you.” She smirks. “Even if you made me do all the unpacking so you could hook up with your boyfriend.”

  I smile. “It was really good hooking up. Like, amazing.”

  Talia laughs.

  The truth is, the best part of the last week wasn’t even the hooking up. It was staying up late, my head on his chest, while he drew shapes on my back and we whispered and watched the sun rise. Then he’d sneak back to his room before his parents woke up.

  Talia swings her shower bucket. “C’mon. His flight is going to leave any minute. You gotta move.”

  “Thanks,” I say, and follow them out the front door and around the cabin toward the showers, which are between bunks 3 and 4, girls on the right, boys on the left.

  “If you stand just beside that tree, you’ll get service,” Lis says. “Don’t ask me why.”

  “I’m going in,” Talia says, leaving me. “There better not be a line.”

  “Thanks,” I say. And then I’m on my own and staring at the showers.

  There are about twenty stairs to get up to them.

  The incident that inspired my nickname occurred on stair seven, three from the top.

  I tripped on my flip-flop.

  I tripped, and then I tumbled down, down, down, and my bathrobe opened and my nether regions were exposed to everyone standing on Lower Field—girls and boys.

  Including Zoe Buckman. Who just stood there, laughing.

  “Porn star!” she shrieked. “Sam is a porn star!”

  It didn’t help that I was the only girl in my bunk who already had boobs and hair on those nether regions.

  I stood up and covered myself as quickly as I could. My right elbow and left knee were skinned. And I had bumped my head.

  By the time I got back to the bunk, Porn Star had morphed into Porny. I guess Porn Star was too much of a mouthful?

  They called me that for the rest of the summer.

  Porny.

  I shiver.

  I will not trip again.

  No.
/>   No one will call me Porny again.

  No one. Will call me. Porny. Again.

  This summer will be great.

  I am not the same person I used to be: I am no longer quiet. I am no longer shy. I am no longer eleven. I have a 3.9 GPA!

  I live in freakin’ New York City!

  And I am normal, dammit!

  Totally, utterly normal!

  And I have a super hot boyfriend!

  I press Eli’s name on my phone. It’s ringing! Ringing . . . ringing . . . Connecting! Woot!

  “Sam?” he says.

  “Hi!” I say, filled with relief at the sound of his voice. I turn away from the stairs. “Yay. I’m glad I caught you.”

  “I’m at the airport!”

  “I know! I’m at camp!”

  “I tried calling,” he says. “Did you see my texts?”

  “No,” I say. “Service here sucks. Apparently, I can only speak to you from deep in the woods.”

  “I guess you’ll be spending a lot of time in the woods.”

  “I love the woods. That’s where the ticks are.”

  Eli knows I am terrified of ticks. My mother had Lyme disease a few years back. She was in bed for months. Now she refuses to go into the backyard.

  “Good thing you bought a hundred bottles of bug spray,” he says.

  “It is a good thing,” I say. “And you packed your money belt?”

  “Oh, yeah, wearing it right now.”

  He’s teasing me. But his mom bought him one to keep his money and passport safe. You’re supposed to wear it under your clothes so you don’t get pickpocketed. I don’t think it’s the worst idea. “Did you even pack it?” I ask.

  “I did. But we both know I’m never going to wear it.”

  A mosquito lands on my arm and I swat it. “Apparently you have to put the bug spray on for it to work.”

  “Who knew?”

  A counselor comes out of the showers and rushes down the steps. I want to tell her to slow down so she doesn’t slip.