33
I’D AVOIDED EVERYONEall afternoon by lingering in the kitchen of the dining hall, channeling my nervous energy into arranging and rearranging a kitchen cart full of treats. This was supposed to be a celebration, one silly, final hurrah in the form of a sugar rush, before we said goodbye to Pine Lake for the very last time.
My friends were all gathered on the other side of the door, hooting and hollering and ready to get their ice cream party on. Yet here I was, a storm cloud, heavy and dark, my big feelings about to spill all over the place.
Lydia had gone radio silent since her earlier call, but with enough deep breaths, I’d almost been able to convince myself that there was nothing to freak out over. Maybe Amaya hadn’t been rage-panicking over my unsolicited email directly to our client.
But Mack not telling me about turning down Steve and Marla’s offer was something I couldn’t quite square as easily, especially against our last few days together. I’d thought I’d gotten the most authentic side of him, but maybe he’d just charmed me like he did everyone else. Whatever his reason for not telling me, the fact that he’d skated around it stung.
I cracked open the swinging kitchen door and caught sight of him sitting gamely at one of the giant circular dining tables, hands behind his head as he laughed at something Sam was saying. The longer the minutes ticked by, the more the ice cream on the cart in front of me morphed into liquid.
I couldn’t avoid him any longer.
“All right, everybody!” I barreled out of the kitchen pushing the massive, industrial-size food cart. The day’s heat—and the general lack of air-conditioning in every building at Pine Lake—had left my tank top damp and my hair glued to the back of my neck. I hadn’t expected to break a sweat prepping for a dessert party, but then again, I’d also gone overboard.
I’d put together a spread fit for seventy people, as opposed to seven: quarts of Brigham’s ice cream and sherbet, plus every topping imaginable—sprinkles, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and a giant glass jar overflowing with maraschino cherries. I’d triumphantly dug out an old container of Oreos from the kitchen pantry, and Eloise and Linus had picked up a giant plastic box of cupcakes from the General Store, plus a container of brownies.
“Remember, we’re playing truth or dare,” Eloise said as she dug into a tub of vanilla, scooping a softball-sized amount into Linus’s bowl.
“You go first then,” Sam said, reaching for the sherbet as she popped a cherry into her mouth.
“Okay.” Eloise looked up, a bottle of chocolate syrup squeezed between her hands. “Clara, truth or dare.”
“Dare,” I said quickly.
A smile spread across her face. “I dare you to dump this bottle on your head.”
“Seriously?” I countered. “You don’t want me to try to jump from table to table, or something like that?”
She nodded her head, a wicked grin on her face.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.” She tossed the bottle at me, and I caught it with two hands, giving it a shake. I held it over my head and squeezed, and a spray of gooey brown spluttered all over my face.
“Oh, shit!” Nick cackled as Sam watched me, mouth in an O. “I’m impressed, Clara.”
I wiped a stream of chocolate out of my eye and flung it in his direction, splattering it across his shirt.
It dawned on me that now was my chance to get the truth out of Mack about what Marla had told me.
“Mack—truth or dare.”
“Truth,” Mack said finally.
“Why didn’t you tell us that Steve and Marla wanted you to take over Pine Lake, and you turned them down?”
I tried to keep my voice casual, but I could feel the hurt etching lines across my face. He hadn’t told me, and I wanted to know why.
“Whoa,” Trey said as Nick opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again as if he kept finding and losing his words.
“Wait, seriously?” Sam asked, dumbfounded, as Eloise smacked her hands down on the table, jolting our bowls.
“I knew it!” she shrieked.
“Oh really, El, you knew?” Trey teased. “You haven’t been paying attention to anything but your boyfriend all week.”
“Honey, why are you picking on her?” Nick asked, finally discovering his voice again. Across the table, Linus calmly removed his glasses and rubbed them clean with a corner of his T-shirt before setting them back on the bridge of his nose, his expression unmoving as he studied them.
“I’m not picking on anyone. I’m—” Trey was cut off by the slap of vanilla ice cream hitting his face.
Linus’s hand was still in the bowl when Trey turned toward him, furious.
“What the fuck, mate?” he spat.
“Wow, Linus,” Mack said, sounding both taken aback and impressed. “You starting a food fight, man?”
“Okay, I think we all need to take a pause,” Sam said, slowly standing with her hands outstretched, as if she could capture this ferocious energy, shove it back in its cage.
“Are you going to answer, Mack?” I pushed. “Because Marla told me.”
Mack shrugged, a cool look on his face shutting me out. “So then what is it you want to know?”
“We talked about it,” I said, my voice rising, ice cream scooper whipping through the air as I gestured with my hand. “About you buying this place.”
Mack shrugged. “You talked about it, Clara. You never actually asked me about buying Pine Lake.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “I was trying to tell you I believed in you.”
“Or maybe you’re just nostalgic,” he said, rubbing a hand along his chin as if he were a professor spewing some philosophical theory. “For this place, for the past. I mean, isn’t that what this is all about? Hanging on to a fantasy that will never be real?” he continued, gesturing around the dining hall.
“I think you’re talking about yourself, and why you dragged me into bed,” I said, scowling. “You just used me to distract yourself from Pine Lake closing, and your life changing.”
“Oh I used you? Really?” Mack dug into his pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper. The edges were frayed, liked it had been torn out of a notebook.
“I finished your friendship bracelet,” he said, tossing something small and green at me. “The one you threw out in the art barn the other night. I came by Sunrise to drop it off this morning, and this was on your bed.”
He was holding my camp list in his hand.
“You read my private stuff?” My heart was clawing its way out of my chest, and my voice was sharp and rising.
Mack leaned back in his chair like he was preparing to lob another grenade in my direction. “It was right on top of the letter you wrote yourself on the last night of camp, which I’m pretty sure you told us you never got.”
I glanced over at Sam, who was watching me with a hard, knowing look on her face.
Fuck.
He pointed his spoon at me angrily. “You’ve been checking things off like we’re just some items on your to-do list. Have fun? Check. Be with your friends? Check!”
“That’s not fair,” I started.
He scanned the group. “Did you guys know about this? I’m number seven on the list. Take a—”
A mix of hurt and embarrassment roared through me, so deep it felt etched into my bones. My shame over Amaya’s mid-party declaration of my burnout was nothing compared to this.
I grabbed the can of whipped cream in front of me before he could finish, and with a sharp press of the nozzle, I unleashed a stream of sticky white froth at his head, until he looked more snowman than human.
“Okay, it’s a food fight,” Sam groaned, pushing her chair out with a huff. “I’m Switzerland! I’m taking all your phones so they don’t get destroyed.”
“Sam, wait.” I moved to try to stop her, but a blob of something cold smacked my shoulder and slid down my arm.
“Oh, it’s a fucking food fight all right!” Nick shrieked with ecstatic abandon, dumping a bowl of cherries in Trey’s lap.
Sam grabbed our stuff off the table and made her escape onto the porch, but the rest of us were too far gone, full-grown adults sucked into this vortex of big feelings and personal confessions, with edible weapons within reach. Suddenly, it was mayhem, the kind of chaos that burst forth from your amygdala before the rational side of the brain could kick in and stop the worst from happening.
“Since we’re all being honest, why don’t you say what you’ve been wanting to say this entire trip?” Nick challenged Trey as he stood up from the table.
“Fine,” Trey said as he tore open the plastic box of cupcakes. “I want a break. From us. There, are you happy?”
He smashed a cupcake onto Nick’s shoulder and then turned and lobbed one at Mack, who was now dashing toward the back of the room clutching a bottle of chocolate sauce.
“It’s been obvious for months,” Nick hissed, reaching for a melting bowl of vanilla. “I keep trying to bring it up! Why can’t you ever just say what you feel?”
I was so caught up in the breakup unfolding in front of me that I didn’t notice Eloise creeping up behind me until something sticky shot against my neck, dripping right down the back of my shirt.
Swinging around with a gasp, I found her grinning with a bottle of caramel syrup in her hands. Behind her Linus stood staring in shock at his hands, which looked like they’d just been used to murder a family of Hershey Bars.
I charged over to a shelf near the fridge that held all the condiments placed on tables during the summer. A tube of ketchup sang out to me in all its bright red, staining glory, and it felt powerful in my hands, especially when I ran back and squirted it directly on Trey’s pristine white sneakers before turning my aim back to Eloise.
“Clara, that is not okay!” Nick protested, and then dug a mound of frosting off his chest and smeared it down my face.
“See, this is why I haven’t even said anything to you about our relationship, because you’re always telling everyone what they can and can’t do,” Trey groused, kicking the tomato glop off his shoe.
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re breaking up, then. You won’t have to listen to me talk anymore!” Nick shouted before grabbing the chocolate ice cream and storming off toward Linus, who was currently licking something off Eloise’s finger.
Trey watched him, an odd look on his face, before he turned back toward me. Silently, he grabbed the ketchup bottle out of my hand and marched after his now-ex-boyfriend.
There was only one person left for me to find. I swiped the lone box of brownies from the table and took off for Mack.
Following the long route down a row of tables toward the back of the dining hall, I crept up on him slowly, stepping carefully over a slippery patch of melted vanilla.
When I was close, I leveled a brownie in his direction. It landed with a thump in the center of his forehead, chocolate crumbles sticking to his face. Mack froze, coughing out a shocked laugh before stepping toward me, close enough to swipe a finger across my brow, gathering up a chunk of frosting and smearing it against my bottom lip.
He pressed down gently, and as if on instinct my tongue shot out, swiping the sugary sweetness away. Now it was my turn to freeze, heat pooling between my legs, twisting me undone like a cork being yanked out of a champagne bottle.
He took advantage of my moment of weakness and yanked a brownie out of the box in my hands, patting it flat on my head like a pancake.
“Fuck!” I squealed, reaching for another sugary blob and smashing it onto his chest, grinding it into his shirt like I was trying to scrub grease out of a dirty pan. My focus was so intense that it took me a second to notice that Mack’s hand had paused, gently cupping my face.
“Give me my list back,” I demanded, glaring at him through ice cream-covered lashes.
“You are really pretty when you’re fired up, you know that?” He said it with delight like he’d just discovered something wonderful and couldn’t wait to share it with the world. “Lover.”
Everything went silent when Mack touched me, my senses giving up all autonomy, fully under his control. Everything in me that wanted to be angry with him seemed to melt away when his thumb pressed against my bottom teeth, his index finger stroking my chin. I was so focused on the sensation that it barely registered at first when my phone’s obnoxiously loud ring sounded from the porch, where Sam had gone to escape the chaos.
“Shit! Shit shit shit,” I said, dropping the brownies on the floor and taking off toward the door. Sam was moving through the doorway, holding my phone in her hand.
I skidded to a stop in front of her.
“I answered it,” she said, a strange look on her face. Oh no.
Amaya’s serene face, perfectly coiffed as always, appeared on my screen.
“Clara, hi. I’m here with the whole team.”
Suddenly the faces of my colleagues panned by as she scanned the camera across them, crammed into her office. Lydia was sandwiched on a couch with a laptop on her knees and gave me a small wave.
“I need you back in the—” Her mouth dropped, her sentence left hanging, unfinished. “What the hell happened to you?”
“She started a food fight,” Mack yelled a few feet behind me now.
“You started it!” I hissed back. “And please stop, it’s my boss.”
“Well, take a shower, scrub your face, whatever you need to do. And then I need you to get back here ASAP.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Her intensity caught me off guard. It shouldn’t have—I’d only been gone from work for a few days—but my ability to snap to order whenever Amaya came calling had already dulled. “I can’t. I’m in New Hampshire. At my old camp.”
“I know, I know, and I am so excited you’ve been enjoying your micro-sabbatical. But, Clara, the pitch you sent to Gabbie? She loved it.”
“She did?” I asked, trying to process what she was telling me.
“I did too,” she added quickly. “I always knew you were brilliant.”
“But you said I was burned out.” My fists clenched, fingernails stabbing my sticky palms. She’d forced me out of the office, rebuffed my email, and was now demanding I drop everything and run back to my desk. “You told me I had to take this time off.”
“And it worked!” she exclaimed, almost like she was trying to convince me. “Gabbie loved your idea so much that they’ve moved our pitch to tomorrow morning and won’t hear it unless you’re the one presenting.”
“Seriously?” I asked, dumbfounded. My plan had somehow succeeded, exactly how I’d wanted. I’d done it.
“Yes,” Amaya replied, her voice sounding sharp and impatient. “I need you at the Four Points office at ten a.m.”
I waited for the rush of excitement, the pleased, relieved warmth I always got from doing a good job. Instead, a sad, empty feeling settled in my stomach as I realized—I’d have to leave right now.
“Listen, Clara, this is huge,” Amaya said finally, her voice shifting from irritated to sincere. “You knocked it out of the park, okay? The stuff about sitting around the campfire, the letters you wrote yourselves? Finding yourself in the faces of old friends? Gabbie ate that shit up. And now you need to come back and close the deal.”
“Close the deal,” I repeated back. I kept waiting for some sort of euphoria to wash over me, but I simply felt numb.
Amaya piped up again. “They’re going to cancel if you’re not there,” she said, and it was then that I heard her anxiety, could sense her fear of losing this huge account, right through whatever satellite in space was connecting this call.
And knowing I could do this, could calm Amaya and prove I wasn’t a failure, I shifted back into work mode, like Clark Kent walking into that phone booth and stepping out as Superman.
Land Alewife, run the account, snag a promotion.
“Okay!” I agreed, forcing an upbeat game face. “I can’t wait.”
My voice was chipper, but anxious sweat pooled in the crooks of my knees, my eyes blinking furiously. Luckily, my panic wasn’t registering with Amaya.
Instead, she just shouted a satisfied, “Excellent!” and waved goodbye with a flap of her hand, her tiny video screen fading to black.
This was it. My chance to prove myself. This was what I’d wanted all along, wasn’t it?
So why was I crying?
“Clara?” Eloise took a step forward. “Is everything okay?”
I pressed my eyes tight for a second, but there was no holding back the tears that spilled down my sticky, frosting-covered face.
“Um, I should go pack,” I said, the words coming out so fast they blended into each other. I took off out the door of the dining hall and down the steps, moving so fast I was breathless in seconds.
Except I didn’t run toward Sunrise. Cabins flashed by in my peripheral vision, blotches of white and green, as I sprinted down the hill to the water. I didn’t even bother taking off my clothes this time, pausing only to kick off my shoes and toss my phone next to them on the grass.
All I wanted to do was lose myself in the water, as if submerging in the depths of Pine Lake one last time could somehow help me figure out just what the hell I was doing with my life. Normally I stayed close to shore, opting to float off near the diving dock before heading back to the beach. Today I kept going, as if I could swim myself to clarity.
But after a good ten minutes of paddling my frustrations out, I flipped onto my back, my hair spreading out like smoke behind my head. I waited for a sign, a loon to land gracefully beside me or howl mournfully. Something to tell me I was on the right path, to assure me of what happened next.
I’d checked all the boxes and done everything I thought I was supposed to do—in Boston, and here at camp. I was headed back home on the verge of professional rebirth, Amaya all but begging me to come and save the day.
Yet here I was, still drifting and unmoored.