17. Becca
Everything is fine.
It’s been three days since the kickball disaster, and none of my other campers have gotten injured. Maya had a black eye, but it’s already fading, and the nurse who spoke with Maya’s parents said they’re not upset, that these things happen.
They shouldn’t happen, though. Especially under my watch.
It’s also been three days since I’ve seen Miller besides in passing. We’re at the dining hall at the same times for meals, but other than that, I’ve kept my distance.
And what do you know? No accidents.
There’s a lesson in this somehow. Maybe it’s that Miller being around leads to accidents. More likely, it’s that I’m a hot mess when I’m around him, which frustrates me to no end.
During the kickball game, I should have been paying attention, focusing on my campers. Then Maya wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
I nod to myself. No more getting distracted. Especially not by Miller.
“Do you all have your bathing suits if you need them?” Vivien asks, looking from camper to camper.
Their first activity periods start in a few minutes, which means they’ll head out from the cabin to go to the classes they signed up for on their first day here, while Vivien and I go to our respective departments.
Murmurs of “yes” filter through the cabin from everyone but Bayley and Evie, who aren’t taking any classes in swimming or boating so they don’t need their suits.
“Towels, too?” I add, looking around the cabin.
Even though they’ve been doing the same routine for days, somehow at least one camper manages to forget something almost every day.
“Oh!” Mollie squeaks, her eyes going wide. I smile as she scurries out of the cabin to where the towels are hanging up to dry, Savannah following her.
I adjust the straps of my bathing suit, making sure the bottom edges keep my ladybug tattoo hidden as the campers come back inside, beach towels in hand. I grab my own towel from the laundry basket under my bed and tuck it into my backpack.
Boating has always been my favorite department. What could be better than hanging out on the beach the entire summer? Even when it rains, we always find ways to have fun. And while I could do without the rowboats, I absolutely live for sailing.
The camp bell rings to signal the end of rest hour, and the campers head off to their activities. As I head out of Ladybugs Cabin 2, other campers are streaming out of their respective cabins in a mass of excitement. I walk with Maya, who’s taking canoeing first period.
“How do you like your classes so far?” I ask, stepping over a root.
Maya watches the uneven ground in front of us, walking carefully. “I like them a lot. Camp is so much fun.”
“What’s your favorite thing so far?”
She looks up at me for a second, a grin stretched wide across her face. “The goat class. It’s so funny. Miller pretends like he hates Lucy. That’s the goat.”
I manage a smile. I’m not in the mood to talk about Miller, especially with Maya’s black eye staring me in the face as a reminder of my failings. “How about canoeing? You liking that?”
Maya nods. “Yeah. I hope we tip canoes today. The counselor said maybe if it was hot we could.”
I wave a hand in front of my face like a fan. “Well, you might be in luck. I’m already sweating.”
Maya tells me all about her favorite things at camp as we make our way to the boathouse. When we get there, it turns out I was right: canoe tipping is indeed on the agenda for today.
Maya jumps up and down, the ends of her towel fluttering around her. “I’m so excited!”
I give her a quick hug before I step over to where the counselors are standing. “Have so much fun! I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
Each afternoon the kids get three activity periods in a row, moving between departments while the counselors stick with their assigned departments and teach classes. I have a rowing class—not my favorite—canoeing, and at the end of the day, sailing. The best class by far, the one I look forward to all day.
By late afternoon, the wind has sometimes picked up enough that we can really get a good clip going. Just fast enough to get the wind in your hair and feel the adrenaline zipping through you.
When the bell rings for third period to start, I look out at the lake, smiling as I see the darkening of the wind flowing over the surface of the water. It’s a good day for sailing.
Three counselors are assigned to teach this class for third period. With twelve kids, it means we each get one boat to take out, and we divide up the campers, taking four in each boat. Most of the time we do the sailing ourselves, and the kids just ride along, maybe holding the rudder if they’re feeling confident.
But sailing isn’t something you learn in a few days, and most of them are just happy to be out on the lake and going fast.
Drew, the Boating department head, takes attendance after the campers arrive, checking off the kids one by one, and the sailing class splits into the same three groups as the other days.
I lead my group to the first boat. My crew is comprised of four thirteen-year-olds who have been remarkably fun these last couple of days.
“Do you guys remember how to pull the sail up?” I ask, looking around.
We went over this information both of the last two days. The goal of these classes isn’t really to have them master anything, more just get an experience, but I always like seeing the look on the kids’ faces when they realize they’ve acquired a new skill.
One of the boys points. “You pull on that rope.”
“Yes! Good job, Jacob.” I give him a high five. “Does anyone remember what the thing the rope is wrapped around is called?”
This group is on top of things. Between the four of them, they manage to recall the names for the cleat, jib, mainsail, and rudder, and it’s only five minutes before we’re all suited up in lifejackets and pushing out onto the lake.
I pull the rudder down into position and lower the keel as we get deeper, then steer us out into the open water. The wind is warm against my face, the sky a perfect blue.
I close my eyes, imagining. What if life could be like this every day?
Low stress, just enjoying the good things in life.
“Coming about,” I say to warn the kids that the mast is about to sweep over their heads as we turn. As the mast swings, I switch sides of the boat, then direct the campers toward the front of the boat to switch the jib sheet, the smaller sail of the two. “Uncleat from your side, then pull it to your side. Good. And pull it through the cleat right there.”
I love the smiles on their faces as they show off their new skill.
“Can we go any faster?” Abby, the camper next to me, asks.
At their age, it’s understandable that they want a little thrill. I’m not the most thrill-seeking person to be honest, but I want them to have fun.
I pull the rudder to put us at a sharper angle to the wind, and we pick up speed.
“This is awesome!” one of them yells over the sound of the wind in my ears.
I turn again to slow us down, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Abby grins at me. “Wasn’t that fun?”
That almost gave me a panic attack, but if they’re enjoying themselves, that’s what counts. Right? I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart.
“Can we do it again?” Tyler pipes up from next to Jacob.
“Give me a minute,” I say. I take another breath to calm my nerves and look out at the mountains in the distance.
Being out here on the lake, where it’s quiet and free? This is everything. I’m glad I made the decision to come up to camp this summer, because this is exactly what my soul needed. A chance to get away from it all.
And other than Miller, the summer so far has been perfect.
A small frown crosses my face, and I manage to school my features before any of the kids see it. What is it about him? There’s something that just grates at me, gets under my skin somehow.
I think it’s the way he looks at me. He holds eye contact way longer than most people. Usually, when you talk with someone, their eyes are all over the place, taking in the surroundings and focusing on you only part of the time. But when Miller talks to me, he’s focused on me alone.
It makes the world shrink, makes me feel like I’m the only thing that matters in that moment.
Maybe it would be nice if it were someone else. Or if things in my life outside camp weren’t such a mess, or if I were someone else entirely.
When he fixes me with his gaze, I want to tell him things, and that scares me.
Not to mention the way my body reacts when he’s around. It must be because I haven’t had sex in a while. Well, two years. But I’ve been busy, and my vibrator gets the job done, quick and efficient.
It’s not like med school leaves a lot of time for dating anyway, even if I wanted to. Most of the people in my class—my old class, at least—who are in a relationship came into med school with it already firmly in place.
The rigor of classes and the stress has already caused a few divorces and breakups, in fact.
So I’m not looking for anything right now, and even if I was, it wouldn’t be with Miller. Obviously. I’ll just be happy with my vibrator until I’m established in my career. Or with nothing, like I’m doing in the cabin.
It’s not laid out in the staff rules, but something tells me they’d frown on a counselor masturbating in a cabin full of ten-year-olds.
I force myself back into the moment, because sitting in a small boat with a bunch of young teenagers isn’t the time to be thinking about the purple Jackrabbit in the bedside table back in my apartment in New York. “You guys ready?” I ask, looking around.
I’m hoping one of them will say something like that was enough or you know, let’s just take it slow for a bit, but their excited expressions make it clear. This is happening.
A chorus of “yes” and “let’s do it,” blends together, confirming it. I smile. Their excitement is contagious. It’s terrifying, sure, but I guess going this fast is also fun, once you push past the panic.
“Okay. Coming about.” I switch sides again as the mainsail catches the wind, and the campers switch the jib without me having to remind them. “Hold on, guys. We’re going to pick up some speed.”
I take a deep breath as we start to pick up speed. I pull the rudder and main sail in close to me, holding us steady as the boat starts to lean.
“Woo-hoo!” Tyler yells.
Abby leans her hand back. She’s on the low side of the boat, her hand skimming the water as we lean even further over.
I pull in the sail some more, holding it tight against the wind. I lean back to give myself even more leverage. This is perfect, the spray in my braided hair as we skim across the waves. I feel powerful, free. In control.
I pull in even tighter as the preteens screech in delight. They’re right. This is exhilarating, freeing. I let a laugh bubble up.
Then I feel it. A slight shift in the center of gravity that has my stomach dropping. No. No, no, no.
I let the sail go completely and push the rudder away from me, but it’s too late.
We’re too far to one side.
And all I can do is watch as the sail touches the water and the boat tips on its side, spilling us into Lake Winnipesaukee.